Nemesis (Enemies-to-lovers Standalone)

by Maya Rose

  “Have you ever thought of being with a woman, my dear Ms Walton?” Selena asks her, and Ariel colors up.

  “I don’t...I’m not…” She husks, unable to finish.

  Ah, for the love of Christ. “Ariel--my office. Now. Unless you want me to drag you there.”

  “Buzzkill.” Selena mutters, finally opening the door and marching out.

  Once we’re enclosed in my office, I lean my ass against the edge of my desk, cross my arms and give Ariel a probing look, “Why are you mad at me?”

  She stands less than four or five feet away, in a tight little black pencil skirt and a solid red blouse with a loose collar and a faintly deep neckline, buttons starting right above the valley between her tits.

  “Because you’re confusing me.” She responds, and I thrill in how she doesn’t lie or play games stretching this out. I ask a question, and she answers truthfully. Always.

  “How am I confusing you?”

  “By asking me what I think. Changing plans or timelines if I comment on something. Defending me when I criticize someone. Correcting them when they call me by my name.” She exhales, and it’s a defeated breath that aggravates me. “We were just supposed to pretend for Warren’s sake. Is all of this pretending?”

  “No.” I grit out.

  She observes me for half a moment before asking, “Are we still keeping our deal?”

  I have to. It’s who I am. “Yes.” I take a deep breath and ask her, “Do you want more?”

  She crosses the space between us, coming right in front of me. Stroking the pad of her thumb at the corner of my mouth, she professes in a gentle voice, “Of you, yes. The hotels, no.”

  I cover her hand with mine. “You have all of me.” And she does. After she’s done with college, if she wants to work here, part-time, full-time, whatever, I’m not going to stop her. I will have the hotels and she will have me. If that isn’t a neat little bow on things, what is?

  Her lips gently spread in a smile. But it’s vacant and incomplete, and I know that because there’s no dimple. What is bothering her? Why am I afraid to find out?

  “So tell me more.” She says, sliding closer, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “More?” My brain short circuits at her nearness. Still. Always.

  She presses a soft kiss on my lips. “About those endorphins.” And another one.

  I cup her cheeks in relief and kiss her like the infatuated fool I’m turning into. Soft and slow, curbing the primal urge to raid her mouth with my tongue and fuck hers with it. Instead, I stroke her lips with my tongue, indulgently, till her lips part, a whimper flying into my mouth. I touch and taste every warm spot, while my hands drift down her arms, winding behind her to massage her back up and down. Then our tongues touch, and my dick expands and bobs in my goddamn jeans. She shudders in my arms, right before abandoning my lips.

  I’ll never get tired of that dazed, passionate, wholly acquiescent look on her lustrous face.

  “How can I fuck you today, Ms Walton?” I ask her, knowing fully well what my dirty talk does to her. I’m not even touching her there, but I know her pussy is soaked and clenching. And the way she gets speechless is just priceless. I could just--wait a second. I tail the path her eyes have taken, behind me, to the surface of my desk. Well, fuck me.

  I cluck my tongue near her ear. “Tsk tsk, princess. What a dirty mind you have.”

  Adorably red, she hits my chest with her fist, without any real force behind it, her eyes glaring, without any real anger in them. “We shouldn’t. Not here. Not in the middle of a work day.”

  We shouldn’t. Not I don’t want to. Because she wants this like I do. She’s right, though. And I have a rule not to do this here. But do any rules apply when she’s mine to have whenever I want?

  I reverse our positions, and spin her around, so she’s facing the desk, her back against my chest. “I think we should.” I shift her hair to the side and kiss her neck. Fuck, her scent, her taste, is unbelievable. “I think we should do it right here on this fucking desk. With all those people outside.” I bite down on her soft flesh, feeling a shiver tear through her, and she places her palms on the glossy wooden surface for support. “Think you can stay quiet with my cock giving you what you want?”

  She doesn’t answer, but I wasn’t expecting her to. Instead, she bends slowly, till her chest is pressed against the cold surface. Then she turns her face, a weighty, meaningful gleam in her honey brown eyes.

  “What is it, baby girl?”

  “Can you…” She halts, and there’s that edged bite I feel every time I see her hesitate to tell me something. But she finishes after a lick of her lips, “Can you not use a condom?”

  I try to grope for words in my head but I can’t find any. Like? I like her? Such a paltry fucking word for the maelstrom of emotions she can create within me with a look or a word or a question, boundless trust in her lucent eyes.

  “Eli?” Her soft voice flows up to where I’m frozen in inaction. “You can pull out, right?”

  Right this minute, if she asks me to jump out of the window of my eighteenth floor office, I will. And the intensity of that thought causes my heart to jackhammer. So I deal with it the only way I know how. I sneak my hand under her belly and pull, till her ass is raised towards me. “Lift that skirt up.” I order, then ask her with a smirk, “You wore it for me, didn’t you? So I would take one look and go crazy and desperate wanting to fuck you like this?”

  I hear her breathing accelerate on incoherent words, as she pulls her skirt up all the way to her waist.

  Oh fuck.

  Oh fucking shit.

  When will she stop trying to decimate me? We made out in the car this morning on the way to the office, with her straddling me. How did I not notice? That she’s been roaming all this time today around every Tom, Dick, and Harry, without panties.

  I can’t stop the blunt hard strike my palm gives her on one ass cheek. Then the other.

  She cries out at each blow, tilting her neck back, and now her goddamn honey is running down her thighs in a steady trickle. Her ass buzzing with my handprints, her pussy asking for more, her little gasps of encouragement...she could break a saint. And I’m just a man. I part her ass cheeks and circle my tongue around, and then thrust it inside the tight ring of muscle. She yelps, even as her hips rock to meet me. She’s hot and sweet there too, exactly like I had guessed from that first time. I hadn’t let my tongue breach her too far then. But then was different. Now, I lick her hole in generous strokes, until she wails desperately, “Eli, Please!!!”

  I rise up, and fumble through opening my jeans and freeing my cock.

  Placing my hands on either side of her head on the desk, I bend, hovering my lips over her ear. “Stop or go?”

  “Go...always go…” She replies, husky and needy.

  I part her legs with mine. And then I use one hand to slide my bare cock into her slick opening, as slowly as I can, so I can feel her warm, tight pussy sheathing every inch. “I love this fucking pussy.” I groan. “Made for my cock.”

  She moans, so damn loud, and maybe it’s risky, but I don’t care who hears us. When I’m all the way inside her, packed to the end, I luxuriate in it. Is this what heaven feels like? Or home?

  “Eli...oh shit…” She murmurs, thrusting her ass back for me.

  Whatever she wants. I’ll give her whatever she wants. So I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her head back. Then I pound into her, thoroughly, rigorously, brutishly, as deep as our bodies will allow with every pump. I slide one hand under her to her breasts, squeezing them through the thin fabric.

  “Eli Eli Eli…” She chants my name in devoted delirium as the tremors build within her. Then she’s coming, a warm, heavy shower all over my hungry cock, no latex in the way. I keep thrusting into her, hitting the place she needs me to, until I feel her go slack between me and the desk, and she’s still moaning my name. Pressure builds within me, my heart strained and hungry almost as much as my dick. And when I
know I’m close, I pull out, and come with a harsh groan all over her perfect round ass.

  When I stop shaking, I slump my chest on her back for a second, letting her hair go, only to tell her, “I’m not going to clean your ass. And neither will you. You’re going to walk around with my cum on you all day today.”

  She meets my eyes and smiles. Fucking smiles. A purring, satisfied smile that finally brings out her dimple, and relaxes my unease.

  We go home and I take her over the couch. I wake up in the middle of the night because I need to suck on her clit and hear her cries of passion begging me to let her come.

  For the next week, maybe more, we’re in a bubble, cloaked in each other. After Warren’s announcement, we don’t really need to stay...cooped up--he called it. But Jesus, I love cooped up. And from the looks of it, so does she. We wake up together, cook and eat together, shower together, go to work together, watch movies where people get killed by vengeful spirits, and we fuck when we feel like it, on every surface we can.

  One night after dinner, I get back from a quick run to the nearest drugstore, with a fresh batch of the suckers that she inhales like an essential food group. She pulls me in the moment I unlock the door. Pushes me against the wood that slams shut behind me, and locks my lips with hers.

  When she tilts back, she pants, “The pills kicked in today. Fuck my ass.”

  Blood drains from everywhere in my body, beelining for my cock. It’s been seven days already since she started on the pill? “What?”

  “I liked your finger in it...that day in the bathroom...I want more.” I’m at a standstill when she starts unbuttoning my pants and shoving them down, in front of the fucking door.

  “Ariel, you’re not ready. It’ll hurt like hell.” I hesitate, my erection wishing it could come up and strangle me.

  “It wasn’t a request.” She jiggles out of her lycra pants and tugs me into a bedroom. No hers or mine anymore. Ours. All of it.

  Inside, she climbs on the bed, gets on all fours facing the headboard, sticks her ass out, and turns to face me with a shy, trusting smile that a man could sell his soul for. “You got this, Mr King.”

  I pull her back by her waist till she’s on her knees, my lips brushing the edge of her ear. “We need lube.” I whisper to her.

  She angles her head to meet my eyes with a frown. “Eli, just do it without--”

  I cut her short, spin and lay her on her back, prop a pillow under her ass for later, and let my weight settle on her. Sinking my eyes into her soft brown ones, I push a finger inside the tightest, wettest fucking pussy in the world. Then I tell her how it’s going to go down. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers and then use your cum to grease your asshole. Any objections?”

  She shakes her head quickly, pulse throbbing at her throat. When I finger her clit, her eyes roll back before her eyelids shut down, and she licks her lips, writhing like a siren against me. Soft, shaking fingers weave through my hair and then grab on like she’s dangling from a cliff and will fall if she lets go. My free hand slides under her top, handling her tender, warm tit until she moans. I wind up her puckered nipple, pinching it firmly, as she arches her back, her other hand pushing urgently between us to feel my cock.

  Fuck, the things her touch incite in me. I want to use her like my personal fuck toy till the end of time, and I want to plant her on a pedestal and worship her with my last breath. The unknown brimming on the horizon scares me to the point of madness. What if the money drives us apart? What if she outgrows this crush? What if I do something to mess it up? What if all this goes away and I never get to touch her again?

  I thrust two fingers savagely in and out of her, and she rides them with equal gusto. I love this dynamic between us. We’re different, but we’re equals, giving as good as we get from the other.

  She spasms when I map out the path to her g-spot, something I can now do in my sleep. “I want to come, Eli.” She whines, making a smile crop up on my lips.

  “Do you now?” I tease her, thumb keeping the pressure on her swollen bud, middle finger hitting her g-spot, index finger dipping in and out of her entrance. When she rubs her tits in my face, I cover one nipple with my tongue before swooping it in insatiably in my mouth.

  She comes on my hand. All over it. If anyone saw how beautifully she falls apart, they would make a fucking documentary out of it. No one--no one--but me is ever going to see this.

  “Red or green?” I offer her a chance to back out like I always do. I’m not sure why. Because every time I do it, it wrecks me when I wait with a stilted breath, and elates me when she unconditionally chooses me over playing it safe.

  “Do you want me on my belly?” She offers a question that answers mine.

  I unreservedly don’t. “No, I want you to see what you do to me.”

  Her eyes glow, and I slide down, the slit on the mushroom head of my cock squeezing out copious drops of precum that drip a trail on her sweet naked skin. But I ignore it, and grab her shins to fold her legs at her knees. I urge them up and apart over the pillow, until her forbidden hole is exposed to me. I suck in a ragged gulp at the vision it is. Perfectly small and dusky pink. My tongue aches to lick just one stroke up that crack, maybe a thousand, but instead I smear it thoroughly with her cum that coats my hand. Slowly opening it with two fingers, I also paint the inside with her juices. Pumping steadily with my fingers for a few moments, I hear her gasp. I see her shudder, the tight bite of her teeth on her lower lip to hide any noise, her knuckles gripping the sheets, the touch of nervousness in her brown eyes as they look on, wide.

  “Ariel, swear you’ll tell me if it hurts too much.” I need to hear her say it, because the girl is used to hiding her pain and hell if I ever let her do that with me.

  She nods. “Swear you won’t stop if I tell you?”

  I’m beyond help, I realize. Why does she want me this much? What do I need to do to keep us in this stasis? Fed up with the thinking, I nudge my tip lightly inside her tight entrance, kneading her asscheeks with both hands so she’ll relax. The give is threadbare, if any. No matter how much I pace it, it’s going to seriously sting. For her. Me, I’m going to come the second my cock is in. Shit, this was a bad idea. Why did I ever let her talk me into it? She doesn’t need to ‘talk’ you into anything and you know it. Stop this before it hurts her more. Stop it now.

  I still my cock, poised to get out. “Princess--”

  Her hands fist my shirt, her firm legs wrap unexpectedly around my hips, and she uses them as a lever to yank both of us forward towards each other, pushing me deeper inside her ass. Both of us groan, both of our chests surge and fall in a staccato rhythm, but she’s the only one with actual tears at the whole head of my shaft gaining entrance inside her virgin backdoor.

  “Goddammit Ariel.” I growl angrily, but she just hoists her hips, sliding me further in. Bare. Because she’s on the pill now. Fuck. I’m...fuck.

  Taking one of my hands, she steers it to her pussy folds. “Play.” She directs me on an unsteady whisper.

  Wet. So fucking wet that it oozes on my fingers when I provisionally stroke her clit. All my indecision flies out the window. Pressing my fingers in her pussy and starting a languorous drive in and out of her, I caress her clit tenderly, my other palm massaging her butt. I watch my cock spread her, disappear inside her bit by bit, and I watch her winces turn to whimpers. I lean forward to feast on the nipples she is offering, and she flails frantically under me, her soft little hands playing havoc everywhere they touch. It breaches the limits of my already waning patience.

  I play with her pussy and keep edging inside her ass. With every thrust I make, her hole grips me tighter, and it fuels my need like a fucking inferno. I keep sinking into her slowly, until my balls slap against her hot skin. I’m in. Every thick inch of me. All the way. Inside her ass. Fucking hell, she’s tight. The pain is dazzling, and the need that flares in me is primal.

  “Gonna fuck you now, princess.” I warn her, because I have to. Because nob
ody will ever hurt her again against her will.

  “Eli.”

  Just Eli. That’s all she utters, her eyes bright and consuming. I plant my palms on either side of her head, push up, and slam into her. Again. And again. Speeding up, hardening my thrusts, grunting loud breaths, I go as physically deep inside her as I can. She moans my name like a prayer and a benediction, my fierce princess letting me own her completely, until we both freefall to a climax likely to stroke us both out. But I’m unwilling to let her cum go to waste. So I pull out and take my mouth to her pussy, licking in every last droplet, before gliding up next to her and rolling to face her sideways.

  She looks at me like she just won the lottery. “I did good, right?” She asks me, curiosity brimming on her glowing, femininely sweaty face, and I remember the paper bag that fell out of my hand when she attacked me at the door. I feel her confused eyes on my back when I sprint out of the room. They light up like a Christmas tree when I get back to bed and offer her an unwrapped DumDum--butterscotch, her favorite. She sucks it in and my cock is ready to go again.

  Then we talk for hours, like we do every chance we get, especially post fuck, hungry for every broken, unbroken part of each other. She tells me about the time she cheated in an exam on a dare. How she used to go trick or treating alone in middle school because her mother wouldn’t come with, and her friends were too weirded out by her home situation. That she cried for hours when she couldn’t make it to a class trip to Disneyland because she got the flu. I tell her how terrified I was when I joined Walton Hotels. How long I faked it before I made it. And about the time I almost got a tattoo but chickened out last minute. That I hid a puppy in my room for five months when I was ten, and that I was devastated when I came home from school one day to find out that mom had him sent away.

  “Tell me about the stupid girl.” She asks me the next Saturday morning, curled up on my lap on the couch wearing only one of my button-downs, her face nuzzled in the arc of my neck.