35. Mallory
Chapter 35
Mallory
Low laughter trips from between my lips. It's my question, turned around on me.
His length presses against his jeans, and as much as I'm dying to get to him, I have some sense. It's the middle of the day, in a low-slung sports car. Kissing on the sidewalk for the entirety of Olive Township to see is one thing. My head bobbing in Hugo's lap where any passerby can spot us is another.
Looks like teasing him with my words is my only option. "I don't want in your pants. I want you out of them. I want to get on my knees and put you in my mouth. I want your face to disappear between my thighs. Then I want you to bend me over the kitchen table and make it so you'll never eat there again without remembering me."
Hugo gapes at me before his brow sets in determination. "I can have us home in twenty-five minutes."
Home.
Not I can have us back to my house in twenty-five minutes.
But, home .
My physical attraction to this man is already nearing nuclear, but the way he gives himself to me without reservation might be one of the sexiest things about him.
Who knew twenty-five minutes could feel like twenty-five years? The tension in Hugo's car is thick, syrupy.
We're on the long stretch of Summerhill Road, a few miles from the turnoff and the sign announcing the olive mill. I reach out, drift my fingers along the front of his pants. I've done this every so often during our drive, just to tease him. But this time, I'm switching it up a little.
A flick of my fingers undoes the top button of his jeans. I look at Hugo, find his gaze on mine. His eyes squint, only slightly, as he tries to figure out what I'm doing. What I'll do next.
Between pinched fingers, I pull on his zipper.
"Mal," he breathes.
My fingertips meet the soft fabric of his underwear. "Swordsman?" I ask, eyebrows raised, voice soft. When he doesn't say anything, I say, "Teasing is fun, but I need just a little bit more." My chin dips, and I ask, "Can I have more?"
He swallows, clears his throat. Adjusts himself on the seat. "The last thing in the world I will say right now is no."
My fingers dig into the opening at the front of his boxer briefs, wrapping around warm skin. Hard and thick in my hand, I pull him out. He's big, bigger than I've been with before. Wrapping my hand loosely around him, I glide upward.
He groans through tight lips. It's so sexy, so enjoyable, I find myself pressing my thighs together.
The pad of my thumb finds the bead of dew at the top, swirling it.
Hugo's right hand leaves the wheel, covers mine. He pumps slowly, once, twice, three times. The muscles in his jaw are snare drum tight.
"That has to be it," he says reluctantly, releasing his grip over me. "You have to stop. I have no intention of this being over anytime soon."
"Noted," I say, and I plan on listening. But not quite yet.
Using my elbow, I prop myself up, loosening my seat belt the tiniest amount to allow for a little wiggle room. Leaning over, I lower my face and take Hugo into my mouth. Not completely, just enough that I can gather his moisture on my tongue.
Above me, the sound of a heavy exhale.
And then I wrap around him with my lips, one slow release. For good measure.
I pull off and sit back, sending him a satisfied smile. He looks dazed, one hand on the wheel while the other rubs his jaw. He's still stiff and punching the air, defined ridge and veiny.
Reaching over, I help him back into his jeans. Zip and button. Like it never happened.
He's looking at me, and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "You just might be the death of me."
I shrug, rubbing at the corners of my lips. "I was curious. I had to see it."
He breathes an incredulous laugh, taking the turn for Summerhill. He is forced to drive slow, mindful of the employees, the guests.
When we pull up to his house, he says, "Don't move."
Through the windshield I watch him unlock his front door, open it, and leave it open. Then he comes to my side of the car, opens the door, and offers his hand. The second I'm on two feet, he lifts me.
"Wrap your legs around me," he instructs. Once I'm situated, he says, "I expect to have these legs pressed against my head in less than five minutes. Understand?"
I wiggle my core against him, as much as I can with this belly in my way. "Understood."
Hugo walks me into the house, kicks the door closed with his foot. "And I will definitely be paying you back for that little move you pulled in the car."
I capture his mouth, say against his lips, "All part of my master plan."
He marches us into his bedroom, lays me down on the bed. Around the room he treads, lowering the Roman shades. When he turns back to me, his eyes are heated. He stalks forward, to the edge of the bed. Offers me a hand. "Stand up."
Bossy.
I love it.
With my hand in his warm palm, he helps me off the bed. Stands me upright, and takes a step back.
"These sweet little dresses you favor." His eyes rake the length of me. "I like them, too. But right now, I want you naked." He gathers the hem in both hands, and I lift my arms in the air. So eager.
Hugo works the dress over my head. Tosses it across the room. It's just me, my bra and panties, and my belly. For the briefest second I feel shy, and then I decide I don't want to feel that way. This is me. My body as it is right now. If I feel anything less than confident, it will detract from this experience. And I refuse to have a less-than-enjoyable experience with Hugo. This is too important. Too special.
Reaching behind my back, Hugo unclasps my bra. My breasts, swollen and heavy from pregnancy, tumble out. Hugo flings the bra somewhere around the room, eyes glued to me.
"I thought I was going to melt into the dressing room floor that day," he says, standing back to admire me. A low growl rumbles in his throat as his hot gaze swallows me whole. He leans in, wraps a hand around my neck, guiding my mouth up to his. He devours me, pulling at my tongue, sucking it into his mouth. One hand is in my hair, the other riding the length of my body, cupping my breast. Gently he squeezes, massaging circles. Thumbs my nipple.
I arch into him, moan into his mouth. Wrap my hand around his neck.
He breaks the kiss, moves it lower. Peppering my neck, my collarbone. My chest. Finding my nipple with his tongue. My hands run through his hair, scratch over his scalp.
He lowers himself to his knees. Kisses my belly.
My heart .
His nose presses to the V at the top of my thighs. He inhales deeply, says, "You can't possibly know how often I've thought about spending time down here."
Looking down at his thick head of dark hair, I say, "Me and my lady part are very happy to bring your daydream to fruition."
His chuckle against me is warm. "You think you're so funny, Mallory." He hooks his fingers into the straps on my thighs, pulls my underwear to my ankles in one swift motion. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to me. "Let's see how funny you can be when I make it hard for you to speak."
With a gentle push, he guides me back onto the bed. Grips my hips and hauls me to the edge. His dark-eyed gaze is on my face, hungry.
"You're so beautiful." Hands on my knees, he peels them apart. Gaze drops, attaching to the center of me. "This part of you? A totally different kind of beauty."
His fingers touch me now, spread me apart. Lazy strokes, up and down. Slow. Luxurious .
Almost like he's playing .
"Hugo," I whimper. I need his mouth, his tongue.
"A tease for a tease," he murmurs.
Throwing a forearm over my eyes, I playfully pout. "You are so mean."
His finger slides into me. Curls. "Is that mean?"
"Yes."
He breathes a chuckle. Then there's the swipe of something warm and wet over me. "Is that mean?" he asks, his deep voice pressing into my sensitive part.
I let my forearm drift back over my head. Eyes on the ceiling. "That was very nice."
The softest, sweetest kiss over that little bundle, and I stiffen.
"Should I keep being nice?" The vibration of his words rolls over me.
"Yes, please."
"So polite," Hugo teases. His tongue takes the place of his fingers working those slow, lazy strokes. "Let's see how impolite I can make you be."
Two hands slide under my ass. My hands find his dark hair, fisting. His pace is unhurried, like he could spend all day where he is.
Behaving as if he doesn't just like it down there, he loves it.
My nails find his back, scratch. My hips bow off the bed. Groaning and mewling, I say, "Just like that, Hugo. Just like that. Don't stop."
When I come, it's like a freight train barreling down the tracks. A body-wide experience. Hugo stays where he is, softly lapping at me, as if he's bringing me down the same way he brought me up.
Planting soft kisses on the insides of my thighs, he says, "You taste amazing, you smell incredible, and I could listen to you come everyday."
Living on a beautiful olive orchard with a man like Hugo, and coming every day? That's my idea of utopia.
Hugo stands, and that's when I realize he's still clothed. I sit up, reach for him. He thumbs his glistening lower lip while I unbutton and unzip his jeans.
"Take off your shirt," I tell him. He reaches behind himself, gathers the fabric, removes the shirt in one fell swoop. It's backwards-hat-level sexy.
He helps me work his jeans and boxer briefs over his hips, and then he kicks them away. And here he is, naked and glorious and mine to do with what I please.
My fingers trail over his abdomen. "It's criminal how muscled you are." Placing my hand on his hips, I haul him forward to me. Lick his abs, tongue tracing where my fingers were. His length brushes my breasts, and he fists it, gathering the wetness like I did on the drive, runs it over my nipples. My head dips, and I take him in my mouth.
His moan is strangled, and I love it. Love the way I can make him sound like that. This man who operates a huge business, who cares for his employees, who's been so hurt and covers it so well.
He hits the back of my throat, and I gag .
"Are you ok?" He brushes the hair back from my face.
I pull back, let him sit in my mouth while I look up at him and nod.
"Fuuuck," he groans.
I let him go with a loud, overdone pop and ungracefully roll over onto all fours. Sticking my rear into the air, knowing he can see every part of me, I say, "Now, please."
Hugo palms my ass with one hand. Lines himself up with me. "I don't need a condom?"
"Pretty sure I'm already pregnant," I joke. "And I'm clear."
"I am, too, but..." He runs his length through me, hesitating.
I look over my shoulder. He looks like a pornographic version of a Greek god, naked with rippling muscles, holding himself from underneath, poised to split me in two.
Over my back he meets my eyes. "Will I hurt the baby?"
If that isn't the sweetest thing. "No," I assure him. He looks so worried.
"Are you sure?"
Because he's already pressed to me, I only have to move back an inch to capture him. His eyes are trained on where we're marginally connected. I press back further, taking in another inch of him. "I am one hundred percent certain. Now, Hugo, please fuck me."
"Can't deny you a thing when you talk like that." He buries himself inside me in a measured pace. Maybe one day he'll manhandle me, but for now, he needs to do this his way. I don't care how it's done, only that it happens. I want this man more than anything, his heat and his weight and his strength.
Hugo gathers my hair, holds my shoulder with his other hand. "You're gorgeous, Mallory. Beautiful and luscious." He releases my hair, hand wrapping over my breast. "Here." He flicks my nipple, hand descending over my belly. "And here." Back up to my hip, where his fingers curl, holding me in place. "I want to take care of you, Mallory. You, and your baby."
Steadying, he creates a rhythm. There is a slap of bodies, heat generated by us. His tempo breaks, becoming frenzied. He moves on from my hip, only to dip his hand between my legs.
"One more from you," he growls, working me.
I love it. The way he fills me, leaves me empty, fills me again. It's heady, and lusty, and sweet, and this man is almost too much. Too good.
My thigh muscles ache, that slow burn, and soon I'm constricting. Jerking and clenching. Hugo cups my sex, holds onto me. Thrusting harder now, losing his grip on that easy pace. He's beside himself, chasing his pleasure. And then he shouts something, a sound not a word, raw and animalistic. Grips me hard, and comes.
"Fuck, Mallory," he pants, leaning over me, kissing down my spine.
"Same," I gasp, grasping for my senses.
He pulls out, but doesn't leave me. I feel him, slipping around. Covering me in his spend .
I drop to my elbows. Give him better access. "Are you marking me?"
"Yes," he answers. "The same way you've marked me."
"I most definitely have not done what you're doing right now."
"Your marks aren't visible," he replies, the answer quick and ready. He stops, sits on the bed, urges me to sit up. "But I promise you, I'm covered in them." He captures my mouth, kissing me with a ferocity I would've expected before the mind-blowing sex. "Let's get cleaned up," he says, when he pulls back. "I want to take a nap."
"I can go back to my room," I say, pushing off the bed.
He grabs my hand, spins me back to him. "Don't you dare. I want you in my bed, curled into me."
My answer comes without reservation. "Yes."
We go into his bathroom and get cleaned up, then we settle back into his bed. He fits me up against him. Runs his hand over my stomach. It's not that I've forgotten I'm pregnant, it's that I spent the last hour feeling like a woman. With Hugo's touch on my belly, it brings reality into stark relief.
Here I am in his bed, carrying with me proverbial suitcases of baggage. I don't want him to feel like he's taking me on. Or worse, that I'm a charity case. Though if I have to be someone's charity case, I don't mind if it comes with orgasms that make my toes tingle.
My hand falls over Hugo's, stilling it. "I know I'm a lot. I won't hold you to anything you said when you were, you know. "
His mouth, near my ear, takes a little nip. "When I was what? Between your legs? Buried deep inside you? Kissing your back?"
Heat unfurls in my belly at his words. "I was going to say in the throes ."