EWB: Enemies With Benefits

by N.R. Walker

I told myself I didn’t care, that I didn’t feel his absence. And that him making sure I ate food every once in a while didn’...

Marshall Wise meant nothing more to me than a mutually beneficial sexual agreement. He gave me exactly what I needed and letting him use my body for his own gratification was exactly what he needed, apparently...

So I told myself that I’d let him fuck me extra hard this Wednesday. That I’d encourage him to do it. And that I’d deserve it. The fact I needed it and loved it was an added bonus.

Why I was starting to feel conflicted about that, I wasn’t sure. Nor did I have any intention of unpacking that. Nope. I tucked that nonsense away and closed the lid tight. And counted the hours down until Wednesday.

But he still didn’t eat enough, and what possessed me to shove a breakfast burger in his hand at the manager’s meeting, I’ll never know.

I could tell myself that it was because if I was going to rail him a few times a week, he needed to look after himself. But his need to get called names while I fucked him hard made me question his self-worth enough as it was, and if he was going to add not looking after himself, then maybe he was on a quest for self-destruction, and that wasn’t a ride I signed up for.

But didn’t those people have faith in their sexual partners to look after them? To trust their sexual partners to ensure all their needs were being met? I didn’t know enough about that lifestyle and maybe I was a fool for diving in headfirst without asking questions or setting boundaries for myself. Making sure Valentine ate enough food was the bare minimum, surely.

He had invaded almost every waking thought. I found myself thinking about him when I was in the shower, when I was stuck in traffic, when I was at my parent’s dining table for Sunday dinner.

He’d tried BDSM clubs, but they weren’t for him because they didn’t really hate him. And he needed someone who actually hated him. Christ. Was I in over my head? I was beginning to think I was. Would I stop seeing him? No.

I still didn’t like the guy. In fact, he annoyed the hell out of me, and it gave me great joy to piss him off. But he wasn’t the complete arsehole I’d thought he was.

There were more layers to him than I’d assumed, and he certainly didn’t have the perfect life I’d thought he had. Sure, he had money. He was born into that, yes. But...

I could see now that he was a guy with issues and demons, just like anyone else. He wasn’t infallible. God, he was far, far from perfect. ...

Him, especially. That it was Valentine Tye who took my seed. That, like some fucked-up reasoning, I owned him. A guy who had been an adversary my entire life would bend over and take my loads because I owned him. And that was kinda fucked up.

They all laughed, and I had to question my ability to lie. Was it a lie though? Jesus Christ, Marshall.

But I didn’t want to. And not because it was a rule to mine and Valentine’s agreement. I just didn’t need to, because . . . well, because my needs were being well and truly met. With Valentine. Fucking hell.

And maybe it would have been if I hadn’t tossed and turned all night thinking about what they’d said. How I was a goner, how someone had their claws into me, and RIP to the man-whore.

Valentine’s nostrils flared and his jaw ticked, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. “You didn’t tell them anything . . .” “Are you insane?” I snorted. “Like I would ever tell them that. Or tell anyone, for that matter.”

“Are you jealous? When they said I had a boyfriend, did you think it was someone else?” He scowled at me. “Don’t be ridiculous.” And another jab. “Did you think it was the end of our agreement? Were you sad?”

And yeah, he was gonna get it tonight. I was gonna give it to him so hard he wouldn’t be sitting down tomorrow.

I really wanted to make Valentine suffer, I should not fuck him like he wanted me to. Yes. I smiled. Perfect. If he wanted to play stupid games, he would win stupid prizes. Bring on seven o’clock.

“Mmm,” I hummed, a low guttural rumble. I slid my hand up his thigh. “Good boy.” His gaze struck me, not with heat or fire but with pure annoyance. Maybe even a hint of hatred. I smiled as I ate more.

He kept his hands by his sides the whole time, and he kept his leg over my thigh. He could have stopped me at any time. He could have said the word no. But he never did.

“I’m full.” I don’t know why it made me happy that he’d told me he’d had enough food. He wasn’t just going to comply to play this game; he’d had enough and he told me. I respected that.

And there it was. That slow blink, that subtle smile. That place he needed to go, needed me to take him. And I was going to take him.

The fucker smirked, enjoying the audience, enjoying the hold he had on me. God, if only he knew . . . If he only knew the hold he had on me.

“You’ll get it when I give it to you,” I said, my nose close to his. His eyes flashed with heat and frustration. “I just don’t think you want it bad enough yet.”

So I kissed down his jaw to his neck, scraping my teeth along the soft skin. God, he tasted incredible. I wanted to lick every inch of him.

His collarbone, that hollow at the base of his throat. That made him gasp. Yeah, he liked that a lot.

His bound hands were above his head, his chest heaving. He was fucking beautiful. He was so sexy like this it took my breath away.

I ignored the thump of my heart, the knock against my ribs that should have given me pause. I should have called it what it was. That maybe I didn’t hate Valentine as much as I used to . . . Valentine fucking Tye. God, Marshall. What are you doing?

He tried to look away, so I grabbed a fistful of his hair and spoke against his lips. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

“Such a good little whore,” I rasped out. I realised I was cradling the top of his head with both hands, still fisting his hair, pulling hard as I fought for control.

He felt so fucking good. Like no one I’d ever had.

Having his mouth open like that was irresistible. I crushed my lips to his, kissing him deep, delving my tongue in as I began to slide back and forth in his arse.

This wasn’t going to be some quick fuck. I wanted more this time.

This was how I’d fuck someone else. This wasn’t how I fucked Valentine.

I thought I’d do this to annoy him because he’d hate it. But the sounds he made, the way he brought his tied hands down over my head, how he rocked into my thrusts . . . he wasn’t hating this at all. But I couldn’t stop.

I wanted this to be measured and meaningful. Meaningf...

Fuck yes. Just like that.

I pulled out slowly, my dick sensitive and somehow still not ready to quit. I would never get enough of him. I wanted to fuck him 24/7, and even that probably wouldn’t be enough.

I needed to catch my breath and I wasn’t ready to leave yet. Plus, I wasn’t opposed to cuddles after sex. It felt . . . nice.

I didn’t exactly want to cuddle Valentine, but the full body contact was warm and welcome.

I scraped my teeth along his nape, nipping the skin with a little bite, then kissed it better.

“How much do you reckon you can take?” He hummed. “As much as you can give me.”

I rolled my hips a few times and he lifted his arse up. Urging me, desperate for more. Christ. He was as insatiable as me.

He gasped and tried to rise up. To his knees? To get away? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.

“You move when I tell you to move. If I wanna fuck you like this, I will. And you’ll take as many loads as I give you.” He moaned, still trying to raise his hips. An involuntary curl? A deliberate roll? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I shoved my hand on his hip and held him down. “I told you not to move.”

Telling him he was worthless and that I was going to fuck him . . . it shouldn’t have turned me on. But it did. Like nothing I’d ever done before.

I wanted to be inside him all the damn time. I wanted my come inside him. Mine. I wanted to claim him, own him.

“You’re already wet.” I’d never get tired of seeing it. He groaned and tried to go to his knees, offering himself, urging me to take him.