by L. P. Lovell
“Well, that’s harsh. I mean, you are a ginger. It’s a known fact your kind are difficult and temperamental.”
“Arsehole.”
Dinner is awkward. The only saving grace is that Aunt June got put on our table because they hadn’t set out a space for her…seeing as she wasn’t actually invited. She then proceeded to introduce Thor to the rest of the table as her boy toy, and the best part is he went with it. Aside from the obvious, there’s something about him, this energy that I can’t help but gravitate towards. I barely know him, but already, I think my family like him more than me.
I smother a laugh as Thor helps Aunt June into the back of her driver’s car. It’s eight o’ clock and he had to all but carry her out here. She’s that shit faced. Her driver takes the zimmer frame off me and puts it in the boot. The electric window winds down and she grins at Thor.
“We should do this again, darling.” She winks at him. Oh my god.
“You call me, June.” He tells her.
The car pulls away with her giggling like a school girl. “Well, you’ve certainly made an impression on her.” I say.
He places his arm around my waist and leads me back towards the hotel. “I always make an impression. Now, I believe you promised me some dancing.”
“I can’t dance.” I tell him.
“I can.”
I throw my head back and laugh as he moves me across the dance floor. He spins me away from him until our arms are outstretched and I’m clinging to his hand, then he pulls me back. I collide with his body and my breath leaves in a rush as my palm lands flush against his chest. I can feel his steady heartbeat through the thin material of his shirt and my own heartbeat skitters in response. His face is so close to mine, his breaths blowing over my lips. I flick my eyes up to his and a moment of clarity parts the hazy drunken cloud surrounding me. Those green eyes drop to my lips and my breath hitches, an irrational urge taking me over. There’s a heartbeat, a pregnant pause, and then his lips are on mine, or mine are on his. I’m not sure which. It takes a moment for my drunken brain to catch up, to realise that the beautiful man who has made this day bearable is kissing me. My fingers trail over the back of his neck and my lips part, kissing him back. What starts out as something soft and sweet quickly shifts to something demanding and animalistic. Heat rips over my skin, searing me from the inside. His tongue teases mine until I’m desperate and needy in ways that are downright shameless. I’m not that girl that kisses a guy she doesn’t know in front of a room full of people. But somehow he makes forget about everything and anything that isn’t him, his sexy smile, his infectious laugh. I have to focus all my energy to break the kiss. I press my lips together, trying hard to regulate my breathing.
“Wow, you’re good.” I say. His fingertips skate over the skin of my cheek and I drag my eyes open to find him staring at me, that sexy smirk on his lips.
“Oh, you have no idea.” His voice is low and husky and it makes me tremble. My throat goes dry and I struggle to hold his gaze.
“I need a drink.” I blurt out. Jesus, he’s going to think I’m a complete idiot.
That cocky smile plays across his lips and my heart misses a beat. I stagger away from him and head to the bar. I’m already drunk, but what can I say? Being around him pushes me to drink. Before I can reach the bar a strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back against a solid chest.
“I think you’ve had enough.” He rumbles against my ear, steering me towards the door.
“Hold on. Are you cutting me off?” We’re in the corridor before he releases his grip on me and I pitch sideways into the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks an eyebrow at me. Damn, he’s so fucking hot.
“You were saying…” Smug bastard.
“You’d be drunk if you were me, having to hang around you.”
Amusement crosses his face. “That makes no sense but okay.”
“I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.” I hold up a finger and it starts to blur into two fingers. “I can’t leave. That would make Vi happy. Fuck her.”
He laughs. “Well, you can’t be stumbling around. We need to sober you up ginge.”
“Original.” I slur.
“Uh huh. Come on.” He offers me his arm and I take it, allowing him to lead me down the corridor. The music from the party drops away and in the silence of the deserted hallway, I become hyper aware of him. I inhale the scent of his aftershave mixed with the lingering hint of cigar smoke. His jacket is thrown over his shoulder, his shirt sleeves rolled up. Heat seems to emanate from the exposed skin of his arm, sending wave after wave of awareness ricocheting up my arm. I’m drunk, that’s all. He’s hot and I’m drunk. I want him and I’m too inebriated to rationalise any reason why I shouldn’t be a raging pervert. I slowly brush my finger over his forearm, tracing the edge of his rolled up shirt sleeves. If he’s bothered by my petting him he doesn’t show it. He keeps walking slowly, allowing me to sway beside him. My eyes trace the length of his muscular arms, straining against his shirt. His gaze remains focused ahead of him and I study his profile, the square jaw covered in light stubble, the perfect lips that quite frankly, I’m jealous of.
“You’re really pretty.” I blurt. Wow, brain to mouth Poppy.
“Is that right?” His lips twist into that sexy smirk that he wears so well.
I wobble again and pitch sideways into him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me against him more tightly.
I look up at him and find his eyes firmly locked on my cleavage. My gaze moves to his lips and I remember what they felt like on mine, the soft yet brutal feel of them.
I chew on my lip and then my filter fails me once again. “And you taste good.” His nostrils flair slightly as he takes a deep breath. “Really good.” He stops walking and grabs my wrist, using it to pull me flush against his chest. Fingers wind through my hair, gripping hard enough to cause a sting across my scalp.
Those green eyes flash dangerously before he lowers his face to mine. My breath hitches and I close my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch mine. I feel the slightest brush, the taste of his breath on my tongue, but nothing more. “Careful, ginge.”
My heart hammers in anticipation. “Or what?” I dare.
He brings his lips to my ear. “Or I’m going to taste more than just your mouth.” His voice is a low rumble that rips right to my core causing a small shiver to work over my skin. Oh god.
“You can’t say shit like that to a girl.” I say, lightly slapping him on the chest.
His fingers tighten in my hair, forcing my head back until my back bows and my chest presses firmly against him. “I just did.” He breathes against my lips. Fuck, I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Apprehension and excitement swirl in the pit of my stomach as our eyes lock. I’m drunk, my head is spinning and my underwear is soaked. Elodie would say you only live once.
The boatload of tequila has me feeling brave. Too brave. So I decide to push that giant fucking red button. “Promises, promises.”
His eyes darken and then his lips slam over mine so hard I lose balance raking my nails over his arms in an attempt to hold onto something. His fingers pull mercilessly at my hair, while his forearm braces against the small of my back unforgivingly. He throws me against the nearest wall, trapping me quite literally, between a rock and a hard place. His fingers trail down the side of my throat and skim over the exposed skin of my chest. I’m overheating, my body threatening to combust at any moment. My hands work up the side of his throat until I’m cupping his face, caressing my fingertips over the short stubble of his jaw. His tongue thrusts inside my mouth as he takes what he wants without apology. I gasp when his hips press against mine and I feel the hard length of his cock plastered against my stomach, promising so much.
His hand slides down my body, tracing over every line and curve I have to offer before his fingers dig into my thighs. And then he’s lifting me and I’m spreading my legs, inviting him between them. I cling to hi
m and throw my head back on a silent moan when his teeth skim over my throat. My mind is too clouded to register his movements, but one minute we’re in the corridor, the next he’s opening a door before closing it and plunging us into darkness. My back hits the ground with a thud but his hand remains on the back of my head and his weight never lands on me. It’s pitch black, and in the darkness, my senses become heightened. Hot breaths blow over my neck and my skin breaks out in goose bumps. I run my fingers through his thick hair, pulling him closer. His hands work up my thighs, hiking the material of my dress higher with each of my desperate breaths. By the time his fingers brush over the scrap of lace covering my pussy, my breathing is embarrassingly loud. He bites my bottom lip hard enough to leave a sting. I don’t care. I want more. I want everything. His touch, his lips, his fucking presence brands me and I can feel it simmering beneath my skin, just waiting to bubble over into something completely uncontrollable. His finger works beneath my underwear, just brushing my entrance. I’m drunk. He’s drunk. But I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I were sober I would still do this because he’s just that hot. He’s that guy that you’d regret saying no to simply because this is a one-time shot, a unicorn moment. Without warning, he thrusts a finger inside me. My back arches and a moan falls from my lips. Teeth skim over my earlobe, hot breath blows over my neck. Holy shit.
“You’re so wet, Poppy.” His voice is low and guttural and it could make the alphabet sound dirty right now. His tongue swipes the length of my throat, and he presses another finger inside me. I can’t breathe. I’m clinging to him so hard that a dull ache starts in my cuticles. Sliding my hands between our bodies, I pull at the material of his shirt. I just want to feel him, the heat of his skin against me. The second my palm glides over his bare stomach he groans and thrusts his hand harder against me. My fingers trace every bump and dip of his abs while my hips roll shamelessly, seeking more friction, more of him. Our lips brush against each other until we’re sharing the same breath. I can taste the scent of tequila on him. His stomach muscles roll beneath my palm and his hard dick presses against the inside of my thigh. He has me in a frenzy, desperate and yet not even knowing what for.
“Fuck me.” I demand in a voice I don’t recognise.
He huffs a laugh and nips at my jaw. “I said I wanted to taste you ginge, not fuck you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he’s gone. I can barely make him out as he rises above me. He works my underwear down my legs, pulling my feet up until the heels of my stiletto’s are propped against his chest. Long fingers wrap around my ankles, and then he’s wrenching my legs apart roughly, making me gasp. His hands glide down the inside of my thighs and by the time one finger brushes my pussy, I’m ready to explode. It’s so raw and exposed, so fucking dominant. Holy shit, I think I’m going to come the second he touches me. The only warning I get is a stream of warm breath on my pussy, right before he drags his tongue over the length of me. It’s like a shot of electricity straight to my core. It’s so strong that my body catapults off the floor before collapsing again.
He laughs, sending another stream of warm air over me. “Hold on tight.”
He thrusts his tongue inside me and I don’t even have time to recover before he’s circling my clit. I’ve had plenty of guys go down on me before, and maybe it’s because I’m drunk, or maybe I’m just that turned on by his hotness, but this puts every single guy who has ever had his mouth on my pussy to shame. He sucks, licks, nips, and there’s never a flat moment, never a let-up. Every single brush of his mouth pushes me higher and higher until I’m clawing at his hair and thrusting my hips in his face. The more I respond, the more he gives. He slides one finger inside me and I can’t take it. I fall apart, screaming his name and squirming beneath him. He forces wave after wave of orgasm out of me until I’m physically recoiling away from him. I flinch when he removes his finger, and again when he places a feather light kiss on my clit.
“Holy fuck.” I pant. I don’t think I can move. My legs feel numb, my throat feels hoarse and my pussy is super sensitive. “You’re really good at that.” I mumble.
“I know.” He brings his body over mine and grips my jaw. “You taste fucking amazing.” He murmurs before swiping his tongue across my bottom lip. I can taste myself on his tongue. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“Fuck me.” I beg him shamelessly. I’m not a one night stand in a cloak room kind of girl, but fuck it. In for a penny in for a pound, right?
He laughs, the sound low and deep. “That’ll cost you extra.” He teases.
I wake up with a banging headache. I groan and roll over, turning my back on the light creeping around the blinds. My hand lands on something warm. I trace my fingers over smooth skin and tear my eyes open. Fuck.
I don’t know where I am, but I do recognise Poppy’s red hair splayed across the pillow next to me. Her face is turned away from me and the duvet is pushed down, revealing her small body, barely covered by my open shirt. My eyes trace the way the material lays over the swell of her tits, barely covering her nipple. My dick starts to harden and I yank my hand off her thigh like it’s on fire. Shit.
I roll over and sit up on the edge of the bed, clutching my pounding head in my hands. How did this even happen? At no point was fucking her on the agenda. I don’t remember fucking her, but then I don’t remember getting here, wherever here is. This is why you don’t break rules because one thing leads to another, and before you know it, you’re like some eighteen-year-old on a one-night stand. Fucking hell.
There’s a soft moan from the other side of the bed. “Oh god. Please put me out of my misery.” I glance over my shoulder and Poppy has pulled the duvet over her head. “What time is it?” She grumbles, seemingly oblivious to just how fucking uncomfortable I am right now.
I glance at my watch. “Uh, it’s half nine.”
“Why are you awake?”
“I need to go.”
“Uh huh. You have fun with that…going.”
I can’t help but smile. I don’t know what it is about this girl that makes me so easy around her. Two minutes ago I was annoyed, and now I’m smiling.
I stand up and clasp my hands behind head in a stretch. “Poppy, I need my shirt back.” She lowers the duvet and squints down at herself.
“Why am I wearing your shirt?”
I shrug. “I’d love to be able to explain it myself.”
She closes her eyes and throws her head back against the pillow. “If I wasn’t so hung over I’d feel ashamed.” She opens her eyes and glances at me. Her eyes go straight to my stomach before dropping to my boxers. “Or maybe not.” She breathes.
I shake my head and cock a brow. “Poppy, if you’d fucked me, you’d remember. Trust me.”
Her cheeks flush pink and she swallows heavily. “No doubt.” She sits up and gets out of the bed, leaning against the nearest wall. “Oh god, being upright is about three thousand times worse.” She presses her hand to her head and follows the wall to a door, opening it and disappearing inside. A few seconds later and her arm shoots through the crack of the door, holding my shirt.
“Thanks.” I take it from her and put it on. It’s still warm and it smells of her, the scent of her perfume mixed with something naturally sweet.
By the time she staggers out of the bathroom wearing a dressing gown, I’m dressed and ready to leave. “Well, thanks for a non-memorable night.” She jokes, taking a seat on the end of the bed.
I may not remember getting back here, but I certainly remember everything before that. “I’m clearly not as good as I thought I was if you’ve forgotten everything.” I say. She drops her gaze and that blush makes another appearance. “See you around, Poppy.” I open the door and make my way through her apartment. When I step outside, I realise I don’t have my car. Great.
I take my phone out and call Xavier. “Hey.” He answers.
“Hey. I need a lift.”
By the evening, my head has finally stopped hurting. I head downstairs
and find everyone hanging out down there as usual. Even Xavier is lingering in the office doorway. Cora is sat on the breakfast bar and Maddox is pressed between her legs, a cocky smile on his face. He’s been trying to get in her pants ever since she got here. Everyone knows she’s more into girls.
“You know, I’m very good with my mouth.” He tells her.
“I’m sure you are, big boy, at least when it’s wrapped around a cock.”
“Oh, she’s got you there, Mad.” Kaden calls from the sofa.
“Well that’s something we have in common so I hear.” Maddox grins.
She lets out a tinkling laugh. “I’m better with pussy.”
A strained groan makes its way up his throat. “Damn, I’d pay good money to see that shit.”
“Oh, you can. I have this friend.” She sits up, bringing her lips close to his. She runs a hand up the back of his neck, pulling him even closer and wrapping her leg around his hip. “Ten grand and we’re yours for a night.” She whispers. Poor guy looks like he’s about to come in his pants. To be fair, I probably would if Cora were wrapped around me like that. The girl is smoking hot and she wears sex like it’s just another outfit in her vast wardrobe.
The problem with Maddox and Cora is that they work together a lot. If someone wants a threesome then it’s those two who go, because whatever situation arises—guys, girls, both—they’ll do it. They should just fuck and get it over with.
I ignore them and go to the office, closing the door behind me.
“Hey. How was Dubai?” I ask Xavier when I walk in. He’s sat at SJ’s desk using the computer.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anything outside of the hotel room.” Xavier has some gig with one of the daughters of a Sheikh. He’s a braver man than me, those guys cut off body parts for less.
“How was the wedding?”
“Yeah, good. That Whitely chick was actually a good laugh.” I glance over at him and he’s staring at me with a cocked eyebrow. “What?”
