Nemesis (Enemies-to-lovers Standalone)

by Maya Rose

  So I run my thumb gently below her lip, pulling till it pops out shiny and round, and her eyes finally trace mine. And I see it. She might be afraid, but she trusts me. Why the fuck would she do that?

  “Did I do anything you didn’t want me to do?” I demand. It sounds angry when I don’t mean it to be.

  She blinks, like she doesn’t understand my sudden shift. Then slowly shakes her head.

  “Words, Ariel.”

  “No.” She says in a whisper.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “A little.” She answers in that low voice again.

  Fuck.

  “But I like it.” She adds on a quick breath. “What you’re doing.” She pauses, almost halts breathing, reddening. “What you’re saying.”

  Oh sweet fucking goddamn. I barely suppress the groan at the back of my throat. “You can change your mind at any point about this. You understand that, right, Ariel? You can tell me to slow down or stop, and I will.”

  She stares at me curiously, like I’m a strange creature. Then her fingers fly to her jacket, grip the pull tab of her zipper, and start pulling so fucking slowly, that my shaft can feel each tooth along the chain separating. She shrugs it off equally slowly off her shoulders and from her arms, and it drops behind her on the counter.

  Then she shakes her head again. “Don’t stop.” She says softly, eyes glittering. “I want you, Eli.”

  How is it that with the amount of sex I’ve had, no woman has ever said these exact words to me before? My dick perks, hot and stiff. Practically ready to pop off. I’m not sure if I should focus on that, or on the accompanying turbulence in my chest. Because this...with her...it’s more than I ever thought I would want. More than I ever thought was possible to get. And right now it’s everything I need. For her to see me. For me to see her. So before doubt or prudence can prevail, or before I can read too much into how I’ve never done this before, I buckle and go down on my knees for a woman for the first time. And Christ, do I fucking love the view.

  Chapter 11

  Ariel

  ◆◆◆

  I should be bothered by this. By how quickly it’s escalating. Three days ago he insulted me to tears and now I’ve somehow ended up here?

  But he showed up when I needed someone to. He came for me himself, when he could have just as easily sent that woman again or someone else. And now he’s at my feet, his words driving me wild, both filthy and sublime. The way he takes charge makes me want to submit. Because falling apart at his hands doesn’t seem so scary. The rampant desire smoldering in the blue abyss of his eyes doesn’t make me feel weak. I have the same power over him that he has over me.

  While I’m ruminating, his head droops forward, nuzzling between my thighs, pressing warm kisses on my hyper-aware skin as he inches up. A gush of sticky moisture flows out of my pussy at the sight, and I try to clamp my thighs, mortified, but he holds them apart firmly, sticks his tongue out and straight-up licks up the evidence of my need from my thigh.

  Holy shit.

  I should tell him. Now. I have to tell him. I’ve never done this before. Will it make him stop? I don’t think I’ll survive it if he does. I’ve known him for all of four days, but God, the rightness of this. I’ve never looked at a guy twice. Mostly afraid of losing my way like mom did. But I’ve also never really been interested in anyone. What if I don’t do this and then I spend my whole life waiting for it to feel right again? And what if it never does? He’s not lying to me. No false promises. No illusion of forever. I’m walking into it with my eyes open. Just my flesh. Nothing else needs to be a participant in this, right? Then nothing else can break.

  So no, I’m not saying anything that stops this trainwreck. It’s a choice I’m making. If nothing else, I’m skilled at picking up the pieces when they fall.

  His gaze comes up to hit me, hot and sharp, his jaw clenched. “Why are you clean?”

  What?

  My silence collects a scowl from him. “Who did you shave your pussy for, princess?”

  A slice of pleasure flushes through me. Damn if that didn’t sound jealous. That just means he thinks you’ve done this before, moron.

  “No one.” I croak out. “I just...I like it...like this…” I try to elaborate, pretending like this is the most normal conversation of my life.

  His eyes shimmer in emphatic approval, his mouth parting as he runs his tongue from the corner to mid-way his upper lip and then goes back inside. A lewd look dons his face. “I’m going to fuck this beautiful pussy with my tongue first. Make you come and drink every drop. That cool, princess?”

  Eli King and his smutty, smutty mouth. My body thrills at the low note of his voice. He’s all alpha, all precipitous dominance. Still giving me a chance to back out. I’m frustratingly speechless. So I nod like a damn bobblehead.

  Something happens on his face. The spread of his lips. Then a throaty sound. He’s...smiling? No. Chuckling. Like he’s...happy. Like he’s enjoying himself. He is? My heart struggles to stay in position, entranced beyond belief at how he looks when he smiles. Almost boyish. Utterly divine.

  Then he ducks, disappearing between my legs again, pulling me forward and angling my legs, boots and all, over his shoulders. His big hands cup my ass cheeks, spreading them. Then I feel his tongue. Oh God. Oh shit. My ass. He’s licking my asshole, squirming his tongue around it. Testing the strength of the perimeter. My core clenches at the insane sensation, excited, trembling at every lazy stroke he draws all the way from my ass to my pussy. Until they’re not so lazy anymore. Grabbing my hip on one side, he starts licking the inner walls of my pussy with long sure sweeps of his tongue. And the slick fingers of his other hand glide up my thigh...all the way to the crease of my ass. One finger presses there, teasing inside just a little. I’m petrified...that I want it. What kind of a virgin am I?

  “Eli! I…I need...”

  I really freaking hope he knows what I need. Trying to keep from wholly falling back on the counter, my hands flail around, gripping his suit, and then leaving it for his hair. Completely oblivious to my predicament, his warm tongue fills me up deep, lurking in every corner, tasting every nook. Then his hand on my ass is gone, and he hooks two fingers deep inside me, exploring, then slipping out, hitting a spot that makes me doubt if I know my body at all. He keeps going in and out, in and out, his rhythm relentless, and when his thumb flicks my clit, I almost jump off the counter.

  He detains me with his palm on my belly. “Easy, baby girl.”

  His voice is like sweet hot chocolate, burning my throat and warming my belly, slowly and just right. I’m buzzing with profuse pleasure, when he changes tactics. His fingers pull out, right before his teeth clamp around my pussy mound, and he sucks. Groaning, he sucks like he’s learning to breathe, while rolling his stiff tongue into every crevice he can find. Then it moves down and goes back into my tight little ring, pushing in further just a little, and I squeal at the barest of intrusions.

  He raises his head swiftly and I want to scream at the loss.

  “Too much?” He asks, with messed up hair, bloated lips, face on fire, eyes so dark I have to remember that they’re blue.

  “No.” I tell him impatiently, before closing my hands around the lapels of his suit, pulling, and blurting, “Kiss me.”

  I don’t have to ask twice. I inhale his musk and feel his lips in the next breath. His mouth moves slow, so damn slow over mine that my heart aches at the attention. I can feel his steely hardness through his pants when he pulls me against him, unerringly hitting my exposed wet pussy. A shiver runs straight to my clit. He lingers on my mouth, his tongue leisurely scoping the seams of my lips, then opening them to glide inside. Teasing my tongue with his, tasting it, he then leaves it to feel every inch of my mouth. Full and deep, the kiss burns me, and my hands roam down his body, annoyed when all they find is cloth. I break the kiss, vexed and discontented. If I look into his eyes, I’ll lose my nerve, so I don’t. I just start pushing the jacket off his hard physique, a
nd he helps me by raising his arms so I can tug it off. He’s not wearing a vest today, and the shirt he has on fits him like a second skin, the shape of his cardboard pecs pressing through it. He’s buttoned up to his neck, tie completing the all-business look, and I imagine taking the tie off, and going through that row of buttons, one by one, until I can see his naked chest. Shit, do I need to ask his permission to do that? My heart’s drumming, but it’s not just lust. I’m nervous. Color me crazy, but I don’t think I’m ready for his naked skin yet. For his naked anything really. When I dare to look up at him, his nuclear blue gaze blazes a path of heat that starts on my face and trickles down my thighs.

  Tilting his head to one side, his gaze pierces mine. “Can I touch your tits?”

  “Yuh…” I garble on a stuttered gasp. I might need to check after this if I’ve actually lost my voice, but if I have, it would still be worth it. So worth it.

  He doesn’t dwell on it, his lips landing on the sensitive skin of my neck. He sucks me there, and he bites, and his hand caresses one tender breast, pressing, pressing so hard. So good. I moan, my fingers darting through his hair, sliding down to the warm skin of his nape. God, I love how he feels. Like a wall that will shelter me from a hurricane.

  His mouth moves lower, and he takes my other breast in his mouth fiercely, so sharp that I can feel his teeth right through my T-shirt and bralette. I’m sizzling all over, tension keying up in my core.

  “God...yesss…” I whimper, and he pauses to lift his head, his wildly flickering eyes seeking mine.

  He grabs my throat and squeezes, breathing on my lips. “Eli.”

  “Eli.” I correct mindlessly. I don’t care what he wants me to call him. I don’t care what he wants me to do or say. I’ll do it all. I just can’t let him stop.

  Presumably mollified, he bends again, closing his mouth on one areola, tugging and twisting my other nipple with his fingers. It’s like the T-shirt and the stupid bra aren’t even there. When he said touch--

  “Goddamn what you do to me, princess. Fuck.” He tears his mouth away, and says thickly.

  And before I know it, guides my hand to his rock hard erection, tightening my fist around it, moving our hands together to give it a stroke through his pants. He twitches under my touch, and damn it, I’m going to combust. I’m going to--

  He drops down suddenly to his knees again, roughly parting my legs, thrusting his tongue inside my pussy, lapping up the moisture over and inside my folds like his mouth is barren.

  My hips buck into his face indecently as I fight to keep my eyes open, and maybe he can feel my gaze on him, because he looks up at me too. A strange kind of intensity simmers under the surface of his eyes. And it intensifies when he leans in and pulls my clit into his mouth, his tongue vibrating over it again and again as he groans. His azure eyes watch me writhe and moan, and it’s somehow both reverent and profane.

  Then I get a first-hand demonstration of the fact that Eli King doesn’t do anything in halves. He rakes his teeth steadily over the sensitized flesh of my clit, chewing indulgently, while one finger gently penetrates fully inside the tight ring of my ass. His other hand moves up to tweak and pull firmly at one sore nipple through the two layers of cotton.

  I hadn’t realized how close to the edge I was. And then it’s too late to watch for it, because I’m tumbling. Thrashing violently against and into his face, holding the table like I might otherwise get pulled into a vacuum. I’m screaming his name. Or screaming something that sounds like his name. Our gazes disconnect when my eyes close so tight that I see white. Or blue or black. Stars. Or dots. Triangles? I can’t freaking tell shapes or colors apart. I can tell that his mouth is attached to my pussy the whole time I ride that wave. Drinking every drop like he said he would. It’s dirty and insane and fierce and everything I never imagined this to feel like. A dash of fear, so much good hurt, but mostly mind numbing euphoria. It’s perfect.

  “Fucking delicious.” His silken voice flows through my afterglow, when he slips his hand under my waist and pulls me upright. He runs his tongue across his lips and presses his mouth on mine. Only when his tongue touches mine, do I get it. Me. He’s making me taste me.

  I hug him closer, clinging my arms around his neck, and then we’re lips and tongues and teeth, clashing and stroking as desperately as when we started.

  My lips are sore, possibly chapped, when he draws back, his hands skimming restively over my sides and back, his eyes printing a wildfire when they scour my face. “I want to pound your pussy so fucking hard--I can’t go slow. You still sure about this, princess?” His voice is cut with an edge of gravel, as he forces me again to make the decision of crossing this line.

  I am. I’m so damn sure. But his raw, direct words are my perdition. Why does this feel like I’m deceiving him? I hunt for the perfect words in my brain to articulate what I’m feeling in some way, but in the end, what escapes my mouth is, “I’m a virgin.”

  Time stands still as I wait for his reaction. Or a natural disaster to hit the island of Manhattan.

  The shock on his face is absolute, his eyes widening, nose flaring, making me wish I could just disintegrate without a trace. But the damage is done.

  I hurry to explain, make it sound less jarring, I don’t know what, “Eli, I--”

  “You’re a what?” He asks, clipped, cautious, stupefied, his hand stilling around my waist. Like I’ve blindsided him. And I have.

  “I’m not...I haven’t…I’ve never--”

  “Anyone put their fingers in you?”

  “N-No.”

  “Their mouth on you?”

  Can I please just die now? “No, but I--”

  “And you? You put that mouth on anyone?”

  Given what we just did, these questions should not seem awkward. But they are an awkward times thousand. “Eli, just listen to--”

  “Yes or no?!” He yells, his arm around my waist closing in tighter, and my back lurches reflexively.

  “No.” I answer.

  He sucks in air, like he’s trying not to go postal, and his stewing anger makes my belly squeasy. Why am I so afraid? Okay, I didn’t tell him, but it’s none of his damn business. It’s mine to give to any man I want. What did I do that was so wrong? Why is he angry--

  “So this was your first time doing anything with a man?” He asks, face wild, “And you allowed it to happen in a fucking bathroom?”

  “Nothing actually happened!” I yell, and I’m such a liar liar. Things happened. So much, so many, that I might be a little tipsy.

  Lord, he symbolizes incomplete sex, with his angry breaths fanning my face, his arousal still hard and erect on my thigh, and his face set in a tempestuous snarl. “You riding my face was nothing? My mouth on your nipples was nothing? Me sticking my finger in your goddamn ass was nothing? Your cum dripping down my throat was nothing?”

  I’m approaching the heat level of the sun as his eyes trail my body with every word.

  “I wanted it!! I liked it.” I tell him, gulping.

  His face tells me he can’t believe my guts. “And you didn’t think it was an important piece of information to share with me that this is your first time?”

  It was. He stopped for my consent. Again and again. I never even gave him a chance. But something else gnaws at me. He assumed I wasn’t a virgin. And more things. “What--and pop your bubble about me being the kind of girl who’s messing around with two men at once?”

  He pins me with a glare like he wants to slap the hell out of me. But instead, he finally lets go of me and steps back. “Straighten your skirt. Put your jacket back on.”

  “What?” God, I’m so cold, the chasm between us making me both crazy pissed and sad.

  “Which part was unclear?”

  I have two options, the way I see it. Accept that he doesn’t want to do this with me anymore, or…

  “You’re still hard.” I tell him, my brain getting it’s brazen side back. “I know you want this.” God, I must sound pathetic to him.
Why can’t I stop?

  Every part of his face hardens to the extreme. “Straighten. Your. Fucking. Skirt.” He bends and picks up his suit jacket before looking at me again, wooden, switched off. “First room on the right outside the bathroom is yours.“

  Is he serious? The hell with that. I’m not leaving this time. “No.” I say, sitting up straight, pulling my skirt down. Then I hop down from the counter. He shifts, and I see the massive bulge tenting his pants.

  “What did you just say?” He asks in a warning.

  It doesn’t shake me. “I said no. I’m not going. Neither are you. Is this about the damn hotels again? I don’t want them and I already agreed to your terms. So I’m not going until you tell me why we can’t finish this.”

  “Don’t test me, Ariel.” He seethes out, threatening.

  I’m so tired of this man’s crap. Of all the mind games. And after I saw the dirty-talking, considerate and lighthearted version of him that gave me toe-curling pleasure, I’m not settling for this bargain version of Eli.

  “And what are you going to do if I do?” I hiss back. “Disappear for days again? Avoid me? Humiliate me? You did all of that already, Mr King, and look where we are. So grow a pair and tell me why me being a virgin is getting your man panties all twisted!!”

  “Because what happened was wrong!!” He thunders, his fingers ironing his hair and it flips my lid. Like he’s removing all evidence of me.