EWB: Enemies With Benefits

by N.R. Walker

He hummed a little. “It’s . . . enjoyable.” “That’s fucked up.” “I like what I like.” “And I like that you like it.”

He snorted. “Would you prefer I lie to you?” “No. I don’t want you to ever lie to me.”

More silence then, and I was beginning to think maybe I’d said the wrong thing. “I don’t want you to lie to me either,” he whispered, his voice so quiet I barely heard him. Holy shit.

God fucking damn. I replied with zero regard to my pride, or to our agreement. You are so fucking sexy. My marks on your skin are hot.

If anyone else saw that pic, there was no way they’d know it was Valentine. But I knew. And that somehow made it hotter. It was just for me. He was just for me.

“He’s a Tye, right?” And there it was. “He is,” I replied. There wasn’t anything I could add or deny or argue or announce. There was no point in trying. But still . . . I felt an itch to defend Valentine, a burr under my skin to protect him.

Which is how, Marshall? How do you feel about him now? I . . . I don’t know. I wasn’t sure. I certainly didn’t hate him like I used to. I’d already established that. Hell, I even liked him. Was it more than that? I didn’t know.

Actually, the only thing I was certain about was the fact it could never be anything more. And that sat in my belly like a rock. Like an anchor, keeping me stuck against the flow which I was trying to go with. What I was . . . was confused.

He laughed then. Actually laughed. It plucked at something inside me.

“What time’s your flight?” “I get in at seven. By the time I get home—” “I’ll pick you up from the airport.” I had no idea why I just said that.

I tried not to think about how I was smiling or how my heart was thumping funny. Instead, I thought about him wearing that robe for me and what I might do to him. Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough.

But I didn’t need to do that anymore. I yearned for nothing. Every need I had was met, and it was met very well.

Marshall fulfilled every sexual desire, every sexual need, every sexual craving I could ever have. He was also filling another vacancy in my life. It wasn’t something I thought I’d ever want, but the non-sexual interactions were nice.

didn’t deal well with emotional attachment, and I’d never needed the company of others. But his texts every night while I was in Melbourne w...

How could I say no? I didn’t want to say no. I wanted to see Marshall. To deny that would be a straight out lie. Though as I walked through the terminal to the pickup zone where he’d said he’d be, I felt giddy. I had butterflies.

Which was ridiculous. I could lie and say it was in anticipation of getting railed so thoroughly. But the way he grinned at me when I got into his ute made my heart thump and stomach swoop. I had to bite the inside of my lip so I didn’t smile right back at him. It wasn’t the promise of sex. It was him.

Enzo meowed again. “It’s all right, little guy,” Marshall said. “We’ll be home soon.” God, the way he talked to him . . . I hated that I liked it so much.

Then he shrugged and chewed on the inside of his lip. “And if you wear this shirt, it’s like you’re saying Marshall did this, and no one but us will know.” What the hell? I had no idea what to make of that.

“You want me to wear something that identifies me as yours,” I asked, my voice quiet. He made a face, his cheeks pink.

I let out a long breath, as steady as I could make it. “It actually sounds kinda hot.” His eyes flashed to mine. “You like the sound of that?” “I like it when you mark me,” I admitted. “Hickeys, bite marks.”

However you want me to do you,” he murmured, nuzzling the back of my neck. “Your wish, my command.”

I dried off and put my robe on because he’d said he’d like to fuck me in it, and I wanted to see his face when I walked out and he saw me wearing it. I wasn’t disappointed. He stopped, stunned.

His lips parted and he blinked, and his breath came out in a rush. “Jesus,” he whispered. I smiled far too smugly, but damn. I felt desired, wanted. Sexy.

He gently revealed one collarbone and kissed it, soft lips skimming up the column of my throat. His warm hands raked down my body, sliding the silk under his touch, and he undid the sash.

He groaned. “You’re fucking killing me.” He put his finger under my chin and kissed me softly.

wanted him to do everything. I wanted him to take complete control, to do whatever he wanted to me. To use my body however he saw fit. Handing over that control was my favourite part.

In that moment, I never felt freer. Especially with Marshall, because I trusted him so completely. It was total surrender.

“Oh god.” Then his grip on me tightened, he pulled the robe down, scraped his teeth up to my shoulder blade, and nipped the skin. I’d be riddled with hickeys and bite marks tomorrow. I couldn’t wait.

I was breathless and gasping, torn between needing him to stop and never letting him go.

I was going to be sore tomorrow. Hell, I was beginning to feel it now. “I’m going to run you a bath,” Marshall murmured as he kissed the back of my head. “Then order us some dinner.” “Mm.” I wasn’t capable of anything else.

I tried to protest, but then he folded back the blankets to cover me. I hid my face to hide my smile. I was so spent, so used and sore. I was also the happiest I could ever recall being.

I was too scared of what I’d find. I knew it was only a temporary fix. It was only ever supposed to be a temporary fix. After all, there was no way Marshall would want to play this fucked-up game forever. No matter how much I wished he would.

Where he’d bitten me. “Does it hurt?” he murmured. “In a good way,” I whispered. “It’s tender and soft, and it reminds me of where you’ve been.”

He put his forehead to my shoulder. “Valentine,” he whispered, then he drew his nose up to my nape and pressed a warm kiss to the back of my neck.

It was such an intimate thing to do. Such a personal, sweet thing to do. How he could be so rough when I needed it and then be so gentle when I needed . . . And I’d ...

I’d taken care of myself and got through just fine. I was resilient and self-sufficient. I’d anchored myself to...

He let go of my hand and I quickly grabbed his fingers, fighting the sudden urge to cry. I suddenly felt as if I was drowning and he was my only lifeline. “Stay.”

I hadn’t meant to say that. I had no idea what pulled those words from me, but I had to swallow down the lump in my throat. I closed my eyes as if that somehow helped to hide my tears. Why the hell was I crying?

I couldn’t help it. I laughed and he pulled me back against him, his arm around my chest, and he held me like that until I felt better.

I didn’t even object when he pulled me to the couch and had me all wrapped up with my head on his chest. He chose some stupid show on TV, and I didn’t even mind, because the circles he drew on my back and his fingers in my hair—his warmth, his strength—was sublime.

It was intimate and sweet and like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Gentle physical touch without any prelude to sex. Huh. Weird. But oh, so nice. I felt safe and cherished.

I knew there was no emotional connection on his behalf, and I told my heart not to get too excited. Just enjoy it for what it i...

I wanted to stay awake and enjoy it for as long as I could, but my eyes kept betraying me. And I knew that meant he’d be leaving. I didn’t know why that hurt so much. I didn’t want ...

I stared at him. “What . . . what do you think you’re doing?” His gaze met mine in the half-lit room. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.” My heart almost stopped before it kicked into high gear, and my nose burned and my eyes watered.

When we climbed under the covers, Marshall quickly pulled me into his arms. He wrapped me up tight, my head on his shoulder, his leg over my thigh. I’d never been an affectionate person, never been one to cuddle. But oh boy, this was nice.

Marshall tightened his arm around me and kissed the side of my head. I was warm and protected in his arms; no monsters would find me in my dreams tonight.

I smiled into the dark, wishing I knew what this was or why I wanted this to be real and not just some stupid agreement. Why I wanted it to be like this every night, and why the Marshall in my mind didn’t glower at me anymore. He didn’t shoot lasers at me with loathing and contempt.

Instead, he smiled. Why didn’t that bother me? Why did it make me happy? Wh...

Stop overthinking, Valentine. Enjoy whatever the hell this...

“What was that?” Marshall asked, half asleep. It took a second for me to catch up. “What?” “You mumbled something.” He gave me a squeeze and snuggled in closer, his arms a...