Dark Glow

I showed up to Hugo’s door with nothing but my tote bag, a vivid fantasy, and urgent need pooling low in my stomach.

I first met him when I was working with my friend Wanda at a bar in town. She’d got me the gig and, it turned out, her uncle was the bouncer. Hugo was forty-five, bald and built like a Russian hit man, but when he spoke, it was with a soft German accent burnished by years on the East Coast. It made my toes curl, as did the look in his dark brown eyes as he peered down at me, a little quizzical, a little laughing, and asked whether I was tall enough to reach the beer taps.

I knew he felt it too, because he was touchy with me like he was with nobody else; a protective loom here, a hand on the small of my back there, big square fingers that trailed along my wrist when I handed him a pint. Once, very drunk after our shift, he’d leaned back in his chair and said, “Wanda has told me I am not to sleep with anyone under the age of thirty. Most especially not at her work. But, sometimes…”

I’d stored up the look he’d given me, recalled it in vivid, excruciating detail, brought myself to climax remembering the slow, supremely confident sweep of his eyes down my body, and then back up to my tits, my mouth, my eyes. He’d shrugged and smiled in a way that made his mouth turn down in the corners and I’d nearly thrown myself at him before I realised that the dishie was just a few meters away. Nothing had happened that night except some very intense stares and, when I’d said goodbye, his hand trailing across my ass, somehow both protective and promising something deliciously dangerous.

Then, my contract had run out and I’d got work someplace else. Then, Hugo had gone travelling, settling back down a few hours away. Then I’d got into, and out of, several relationships. But now I was in his neck of the woods, pretty much single, and with a desperate hunger I was pretty sure only he could meet.

“Wanda’s not here,” he said, now. A little frown was furrowed between his eyes, and he looked slightly fuzzy, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

“Oh.” I tried to look confused, and to not blush as he blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. “Oh, shit, is she still in France? I thought she was back today, she said I could crash on her couch. Your couch. Your… shared couch.”

“Chloe.” He looked like he was trying not to laugh at me. “You have her Instagram. You know where she is. Come on, little Chloe, you should not be here.”

“Why not?” I took a step closer, out of the wind and under the awning of his porch. I knew my hair was a mess from the walk over, and I ran my hands through it, trying to smooth it down. Despite himself, his eyes were all over me, and I felt warm and alive.

Hugo closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Because you are a tiny, pretty woman half my age, and my niece is not home, and what will the neighbours think? This is a small suburb, Chloe.”

“Maybe…” I took another step closer, smoothing my skirt over my hips, my voice a little quieter so he had to lean in to hear me, “Maybe they’ll think we’re having a really great time. Maybe they’ll think it’s nice to see grumpy Hugo have a friend over. Maybe…” I was close enough to smell him, close enough to rest my hand ever so gently on his chest, “Maybe they won’t think anything, because I’ll be so, so quiet. Like a little mouse, barely a peep, if you just let me in…”

“You are a devil,” he grumbled, half-laughing, “Sent straight from Hell to test me.”

“Mmhmm,” I agreed, stepping right up into his space so he was forced to either wrap his arms around me or back away into the house.

He chose the latter; in two big steps, he was over the threshold, and I’d slipped after him, pressing myself back against the door to close it. I didn’t even have to pretend to shiver; it was a cool Autumn afternoon, my skirt was fairly short, and the sound of the door closing sent excitement racing up and down my limbs.

“Chloe,” he sounded agonised, “What are you doing?”

In response, I bit my lower lip, looked up at him from under my eyelashes and pushed my hair behind my ear. I was really putting it on, and it had the desired effect of making him laugh. He was beautiful when he laughed, twisting up his face to try and control it, chest and shoulders shaking.

“Okay, fine, you are seducing me. Why? Why here, why now? Don’t you have some rodent-looking man with a terrible moustache waiting for you?”

I choked back a laugh of my own, and felt a little tension leave my body. This wasn’t just the hottest man to ever haunt my dreams — it was Hugo, who I liked, and trusted, and who knew me well.

“No rodent guy. The last one really was a rat. I’m here because I’ve been thinking of you since I met you, and it didn’t stop when you moved away. Now I have a chance to make that dream really happen.”

Finally, Hugo stepped up to me, shaking his head. “It is… the same for me, Chloe. I think I could draw you from memory.”

His voice was so earnest and heated that the warmth spread from my stomach through my limbs. He reached for me, then, and took both my hands, tugging a little so I moved a step closer.

“There will have to be rules,” he said.

His fingers caressed my elbows, swooping down to stroke along my arms and then back up the tender underside of my forearm. Dizzy on the fact that he was touching me, he wanted me, he was outside my fantasies and honestly truly stroking my skin like I was precious and fragile, I half-closed my eyes and tilted my head back in pleasure.

“Lucky I’m really obedient.” At his snort, I grinned and leant further into him, resting my head on his chest as he continued stroking my arms. “I actually mean it. I’ll do whatever you want; I love being a good girl.”

Because my eyes were closed, I didn’t see him move. Suddenly, his hands were gripping my ass cheeks, those confident hands I so lusted after digging in to my butt hard enough to hurt. My eyes snapped open and I gasped, and he tugged me tight against him, lifting me slightly so I was forced to come up on my toes.

“For example,” he growled in my ear, “There will be consequences for comments like that.”

“Fuck,” I gasped, “Fuck, what sort of consequences?”

Hugo went very quiet and still, and I could feel his heart pounding under my hand. His erection was pressed up into my stomach, and I felt dizzy at its hardness and size. I stroked two fingers down his jaw, bringing his mouth down nearly to mine. The other hand was clutching his back, keeping my trembling body balanced on tippy toes.

“What sort of consequences, sir?” I whispered into his mouth.

His hand gripped my jaw hard, then, and he looked directly into my eyes, his own eyes glittering with desire and darkness. “Consequences that might hurt a small woman like you. I will try to be careful, but…”

“No, don’t… Do whatever you want.” I tried to lean in to kiss him, but his hand around my jaw held me in place. I huffed in frustration, wriggling against him, trying to get some friction on the ache between my legs.

“Will you really do whatever I want?”

There was genuine curiosity in his question, as well as that dark lust in his eyes, and I tried to think about it seriously.

“I might… need to think about some stuff.” His hand was tight on my jaw and I wondered, vaguely, if it was going to bruise. The thought of waking up with his finger marks on my face was so hot that I nearly lost my balance. “But I’ll,” I was nearly gasping now, “I’ll probably say yes.”

“If I ask you to get on your knees?”

He let go of my face abruptly and, without even really thinking, I dropped to my knees. The carpet was lush and thick beneath my stockings, and I ran my hands up his jean-clad thighs, eyeing that thick bulge in his crotch.

His palms came down to caress my hair, and he murmured, “No hands, sweetheart.”

A little confused, my heart nearly beating out of my chest, I looked up at him with curiosity. “Show me what you mean?”

Hugo placed both his hands on the back of my head, pushing my face gently towards his covered crotch. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and wondered what it felt like for him to be holding my head in his hands.

Slowly, tenderly, I rubbed my cheek against the bulge, feeling it press into my face. Hugo sighed, tangling his fingers into my hair, so I continued, swapping cheeks as I nuzzled into his crotch, trailing my hands over his firm ass.

It was so fast, the way I’d instinctively obeyed his question. The hardness of his cock, the roughness of the scratchy fabric against my cheek, the warmth of his hands rubbing my hair, the submission of being on my knees as he loomed over me, the longing to kiss and caress the hardness I could feel so close to my face… Foggy with lust, I heard a sound and realised I’d made it — a soft little sound, somewhere between a whine and a meow. Hugo’s hands stilled in my hair, and I knew he’d heard it too.

“Was that you, kitten?”

He pulled my head back so I was gazing straight up at him and I blushed deep, burning red, truly embarrassed in a way I hadn’t been for years. He tugged at my shoulder-length hair, a small smile on his face.

“Was it?” he insisted, and I couldn’t lower my head in shame, so I was forced to nod.

“Yes… yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

His whole face softened, and he drew me up into his arms, cradling my body against his. “You just want to be my little pet, don’t you, sweetheart? Come on, darling. Come here.”

Hugo smoothed his hands down my back, over my ass, and then tugged under my thighs. I jumped a little, and wrapped my legs around him, cuddling in as he cradled me against him and walked further into the house.

Instead of taking me to his bedroom or even the lounge, he walked through the kitchen and into the fine, formal dining room that ran along the back wall of his house. A long table filled most of the space, and tall windows overlooked the yard and then the street, filling the space with grey Autumn light. I had little sense of what was happening, just that Hugo was in control, Hugo was holding me, my whole body was pressed into his, and I trusted him almost as much as I wanted him.

“Hold tight, sweetheart,” he said, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his neck. He tugged the curtains shut sharply with one hand, and then returned his hands to my ass, stroking up and down and gazing into my eyes with something like wonder. The new gloom made the room seem bigger, and his hands on me more urgent and sensuous. “You are so beautiful, my little kitten.”

My voice was scratchy as I tried to answer him. “I’m so… I’m so yours, Hugo.”

“So mine,” he crooned. “So mine, such a good girl.” He nudged a chair out of the way with his hip, and placed me tenderly on the dining table. I scooted forward and, as he stepped back, he put those beautiful big hands on the inside of my knees and pushed my thighs apart, gentle but insistent. “That’s it, my girl. Nice and wide. Now, I never want to see these again.”

With little preamble, he reached up under my skirt and tugged sharply at my stockings. His fingernails scratched down my thighs as he drew them all the way down, and I kicked off my shoes so he could pull them off entirely.

Hugo sank down before me, breath hot on my thighs, and kissed the inside of both my knees.

“Now, let’s see if you need any extra lubrication, my girl.” His hands pushed my thighs further apart and I tugged my skirt up over my hips, giving him a full view of my panties, almost translucent with wetness. Hugo growled in satisfaction and kissed further up, sliding two thick fingers against the slick silky fabric.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he grunted. His words were sharp, almost angry, and I felt my pussy clench and more liquid slither out to pool between my legs.

Hugo yanked the strip of fabric to one side and groaned when he saw my pussy, swollen and shining with wetness, a little strip of hair running up to my panty line, the rest of me waxed and smooth. Without any other words, he ran his middle finger firmly down my pussy, from clitoris to vagina, and then pushed firmly into me, up to his second knuckle.

“Fuck!” My pussy and legs clamped tight around the sudden intrusion, and Hugo shoved my legs back apart roughly.

“Control yourself,” he growled. At the same time, he pushed his middle finger deeper, his other fingers spreading wide over my crotch, and lowered his mouth to my clitoris.

“Or what?” I managed to gasp, keeping my legs carefully spread even as I longed to wrap them over his shoulders and squeeze him tighter against my aching need.

In answer, his teeth scraped my clitoris just this side of gentle and I squealed, hips rising off the dining table as my back arched in pleasure. With his other hand, Hugo pushed my hips down firmly, flattening me against the table. I squirmed and writhed but he had me trapped. Hugo fingered me firmly, far slower than I wanted, licking and sucking at my clitoris, forcing me to buck and wriggle against his strength.

“Please,” I was gasping, desperate, “Please, Hugo, faster.”

He ignored me, and I whimpered in frustration, before remembering what had made him grab me earlier.

“Please, sir! Please, sir, I need it faster.”

Without looking up or even acknowledging me, Hugo picked up the pace. His whole forearm flattened across my hips, pinning me down as he fingered me faster. His finger curled inside me, his arm locked me to the table, and I tried to hold my orgasm back but he was too clever, too firm, he had me exactly where he wanted me.

My breathless gasps turned ragged and whimpery before I came violently, squealing and desperately thrashing, thrusting my hips up into his clever mouth and wicked fingers even as he forced me flat and wrung every last drop of pleasure from me.

Stars. Little white lights and the feeling of a great pressure being lifted from me.

I blinked slowly, rolling my limbs in pleasure. I wasn’t even naked, I realised. My skirt was up around my waist and my panties were a twisted mess, but Hugo had done all this to me without even taking most of my clothes off.

When I looked down, he was still crouched in front of me, hands on my knees, looking very serious.

“What’s wrong?” I leaned forward, running my hands across his smooth scalp, kissing the tops of his ears and his worried brow. “Hugo? Hugo, that was so…” I laughed, shaky. “Let me get my breath back. That was… extraordinary.”

He rose, then, and kissed me very softly, bundling me against him, caressing my hair. It was pure pleasure, something I hadn’t felt from any of my boyfriends, really; not like this, not this combination of reverence and feral desire. His tongue worked slowly in my mouth and I imagined him falling inside me, fusing with me, into the dark golden glow that his touch had stoked within me.

As if he’d heard my thoughts, or tasted it on me, Hugo groaned and tugged at the zipper on my dress.

“All of this off,” he said between kisses. “All your clothes off, never put them on again, please.”

All I could respond with were little mmhmms against his wonderful mouth, my fingers trailing wherever they could make contact with his skin. I hooked my legs behind him and reached for his buttons as he scrabbled with my zips, each of us loathe to lose contact with each others’ mouths.

Finally, gasping, slick with spit and sweat, I was naked on the table before him. Hugo’s shirt was off, revealing beautiful planes of muscle, and his pants were around his ankles.

“Chloe. Oh Chloe, I want to paint you, I want to eat you, I want to…”

“Fuck me,” I whispered. “Please, Hugo, fuck me.”

#

I don’t remember how I got to his bedroom, but he must have carried me. What I do remember is bouncing as I was thrown onto his bed, spreading my legs instinctively as he crawled after me. I felt hunted, desired, both dangerous and in danger. Hugo’s cock swung loose and I eyed it up, wondering if my hand would even fit around it.

I sucked in a shaky breath, and Hugo’s smile was animal.

“How has it taken me six years to see those tits? I’ve dreamt about them every night.”

“I thought you dreamt about my pussy.”

I smoothed my hands over my breasts, squeezing them gently and running my thumbs over my nipples until they hardened. Hugo’s expression went glazed.

“I dreamt of every part of you, kitten.”

He shoved me back, not gently, and followed me down with his hand until he was looming over me, hand wrapped around my neck, knees on either side of my legs. His cock brushed my stomach and I shivered.

“How,” my voice was raspy again, “How are you going to fuck me?”

His hand tightened a little around my throat. “Sir.”

I grinned at that, and my body came alive every place he touched me. “You’ve got to stop making it so… delicious… to disobey you.”

Hugo’s eyes were stony as he slid a hand down my body, cupping my breast and then pinching my nipple hard enough to elicit a gasp from me. He pinched harder and then twisted, the other hand firm on my neck, and my gasps became rhythmic, something in my core pulsing in time to the pain in my nipple and throat.

“Siiir,” I managed to moan, and Hugo laughed gently.

The pressure eased on my neck, and he twisted the other nipple sharply before exploring down my body, kissing, licking, pinching. Down my belly, down my hips, lifting my legs to access my butt, right down my legs, kissing each of my toes before working his way back up to my tits.

He treated my body like he owned it, and I had never been so turned on in my life.

When he got to my neck, he stroked it gently. “I think, next time—” he paused and added, very formally, “—if you wish to come back, of course—I think you would look very good in a collar.”

A vivid, detailed picture flashed into my mind, too fast to chase away: me completely naked except for a collar around my throat, and Hugo with a leash wrapped around his fist, tugging so I fell onto my hands and knees on the bed. Me, choking on his cock as he forced — I felt my eyes roll back, and groaned low and feral.

“Buy it now,” I whispered, running my hands up his back and down over his perfect ass. “Buy it now, get it express.”

“A little silver collar for my pretty little kitten. So pretty, so obedient,” he teased, one hand stroking my neck tenderly.

The other pushed between my legs, greedy and insistent as he parted my folds and stroked into my burning core. As he pushed his fingers into me, I felt the spongy wetness of me open to allow him access.

“Anything you want,” I murmured, eyes drifting shut in ecstasy. “Anything, oh, fuck, mm, right there. Right there, right there, you’re making me feel so, mm, so fucking good.”

I think he had two fingers in me, maybe even three; I wasn’t sure. I was floating, oceanic, completely at the mercy of those tidal fingers. When they retracted, I moaned in dissatisfaction, but Hugo’s hand came up to cover my eyes.

“Shh shh shh. Easy does it, kitten, easy does it, my sweet thing.”

Something hard and huge was pushing between my legs, and I opened them wider. When it nudged at my entrance, I lifted my hips and sighed. His cock was desperately hard, and I realised how much he had to have been holding himself back as he warmed me and opened me up and made sure every nerve was alight and sparking.

“Hugo, oh—”

When his cock breached my entrance, I moaned low in my chest and rose to meet him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pushing him deeper. He responded in kind, sinking into me slowly while I got used to his size and length.

“I’ve never—I need—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know, kitten. Shh now, shh, let me—”

When he had buried himself in me, Hugo took his hand from my eyes. I felt like my whole body was made up of him. Again, he held my hips firmly down, refusing to let me set the pace.

“My girl,” he murmured, eyes very bright on mine. I had to close my eyes again from all the light and pleasure, and he laughed and brushed his fingers, and then his lips, across my cheek.