EWB: Enemies With Benefits

by N.R. Walker

“I dunno what I’m doing,” he said. “I don’t either,” I admitted in a whisper. “What I’m doing, what this is. I don’t know.” I swallowed hard. “Just don’t go.”

“Every time your father calls you, I’m gonna eat your arse, because fuck him.” He pressed his erection against my arse crack. “I would fuck you while you speak to him, but you make the most obscene noises.”

Underneath that cold exterior, he has an inner whore with a kink for some weird shit.

Me

Our ‘lines not to be crossed’ were more like zigzags drawn by a squirrel on speed.

“My day’s gonna be awesome,” I said. “We usually have these team meetings on Mondays, but the reason I go won’t be there, so I’m not going.”

“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.

“See, tonight is Wednesday and usually by this time I’m up to my balls in you, and by the terms of our agreement, any delays should be rectified at the earliest convenience.” He barked out a laugh. “Is that right?” “Yes.” “I don’t recall that term.” “Believe me, by this time tomorrow night, you’ll be very well acquainted with it.”

I hung up before I could say something stupid like goodnight or sweet dreams. I tried not to think about how I was smiling or how my heart was thumping funny.

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.

It wasn’t the promise of sex. It was him.

“No, my internal body temperature is now forty-three degrees thanks to that bath.”

Ugh, Celsius. My American brain can't compute

Valentine wasn’t my anything. Apart from my enemy with benefits. Not that we were enemies anymore . . . My not-friend with benefits. A regular fuck. Someone I had an arrangement with. Someone I cared for. Someone I was beginning to care a great deal for.

I noticed the shirt he was wearing. The white button-down with the buttons I’d sewn on with red thread. And if you wear this shirt, it’s like you’re saying Marshall did this, and no one but us will know.

You showed me . . . things. Special things.” I frowned at that. “I showed you kindness. And it’s a little bit fucked up that you think that’s special.” “It’s special to me.

You showed me what was possible, and what I could have. And what I’ll miss when you leave me. What I will never find again. All I wanted was for you to fuck me. I never asked for anything else, and now I don’t know how to live without it.”

“Why is my name the pizza emoji in your phone?” He laughed, and so help me god, his smile was incredible, high or not. “Pizza. Nine inches. Deep dick . . . I mean, deep pan.”

But lying there on his couch, with him in my arms and his cat purring beside us . . . my feelings were pretty freaking clear. I didn’t hate Valentine Tye anymore. I hadn’t for a while.

“And if Enzo tries to tell you he hasn’t had breakfast, he’s lying.”

Why are you starving my baby

“Who ended it?” “He did.” I wasn’t sure if he was pleased or pissed. “Why? What was wrong with him?”

“What’s your longest relationship?” He inhaled deeply and sighed on the exhale. “None. Us, whatever this is. I’ve only ever had physical arrangements. Sometimes repeats. Mostly not. I never wanted anyone around. I’m not exactly easy to be around, let’s put it that way. It’s just easier to be alone rather than explain my . . . life, my job, my family. And I never found anyone who was compatible.” He shrugged. “Until . . .” “Until me.”

I smiled as I tidied the kitchen, remembering how Marshall had laughed at my attempt to cook anything. I smiled at the flowers on my table and at the silly little balloon. I smiled as I recalled what he’d done to me. Once on the back of the sofa, and the second time in my bed. I swear I could still feel him inside me . . . I smiled as I got into my sister’s car.

“So you have feelings,” she said. “And you and I both know feelings are like . . .” She made a disgusted face. “The worst thing ever?” “Exactly. But who knows . . . they can’t be all that bad. Other people seem to enjoy feeling . . . emotions.”

“Oh dear. Did he buy you those flowers? Those are dreadful.” I gasped. “Leave them alone. They’re the only flowers I’ve ever been given.” “They’re the blokiest flowers I’ve ever seen.” “He got them from the supermarket.” “I can tell.” “When he went there at sunrise to buy stuff so he could make me breakfast.” She pouted. “Well, that is sweet. But the balloon . . .” “Is the best part, so shut up.”

“Oh, and I changed your name to the peach emoji.” I glared at him. “Nice.” He grinned at me. “You should be grateful. I wanted to make it the washing machine emoji, but there isn’t one.” “A washing machine?” “Yeah. I put loads in it.”

I had to make myself not smile, trying to seethe at him instead. “I hate you.” He stood up, and with both hands on my desk, he leaned forward, smiling. “I hate you more.”

I gripped the eggplant and, with my arms around him, held his hand with the knife, showing him how to slice it so he didn’t massacre it like he’d done the tomato the other day. “This is unnecessary,” he whispered. I kissed the back of his neck. “I disagree. Foreplay starts now.”

“When I push you around and hold you down. You could actually stop me if you wanted to.” He laughed. “Why on earth would I want to stop you? You and I both know I beg you for it.”

“I liked you better when you didn’t interfere.” He laughed at that. “So you do like me?” “No. I hate you.” He grinned as if he’d won a prize. “I hate you more.”

I know relationships aren’t your deal, Valentine, so I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re in one.”

“I liked it better when you were just here for sex. When you’d walk in and fuck me, and when I was Enzo’s favourite.”

“You’re cute when you’re hungover and sulking. But if you keep pouting like that, I’ll find a better use for that mouth.”

But then Marshall shoved me onto the bed, folded me in half and fucked me good and hard. Like he loathed me. Like he couldn’t get enough of me. Like he loved me.

Every part of me wanted him. My dick always wanted him. That was nothing new. But now my heart was leading the race.

Who did this to you?”

AH THE MAGIC WORDS

“Still don’t like you,” he mumbled as he snuggled in closer. “Still don’t like you either.”

I was already looking forward to Wednesday night. From the moment I left him on Sunday, I was already counting down the minutes until I saw him again.

So Enzo’s at home by himself? My phone rang. “Are you more concerned about him than me?” “Yes.

I’m at a restaurant right now. Well, I’m outside speaking to you. I told them I had an important call to make.” “This is an important call.”

They are disgustingly cute

I know how to survive, how to be on my own.” I put my hand to his cheek. “You don’t have to be on your own anymore.” He pulled his face back. “I don’t need you.” “Well, too bad. You’ve got me.” “I don’t want you.” “I said too fucking bad.”

“I don’t want you.” I never budged, never lessened my hold. “No. You don’t want to want me. You don’t want to need me. But you do.” Valentine shook his head. “No.” “And I don’t want to want you either,” I murmured. “But I do.”

“We’re finished. This agreement is over.” “No it’s not. We’re far from over.”

“You need me to love you and it terrifies you.” Valentine shook his head, tears in his eyes. “You’re supposed to hate me. That was the deal. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“I hate that you think so little of yourself when I think you’re kinda great. I hate that your parents cast you aside and use you, and they make you feel worthless when everything you do is for them. I hate that you put up these walls of ice like you need to protect yourself. I hate that you—” Valentine thumped his chest, a tear spilling down his cheek. “Me. You’re supposed to hate me!” “I hate that I don’t hate you anymore.”

“I can’t make you love me. But I can love you. I know you think you’re not loveable, or you’re not worth worthy of it, but you are.” God, my heart hurt so damn much. “I wish I could make you see that.”

“I’m a fucked-up mess.” “I know,” he said. I snorted out a laugh. “It’s true. I’m selfish and detached.” “I know. I know who you are. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“But you’re worth it, Valentine. You’re worth it. You deserve something good in your life. And that’s me, if you haven’t guessed. I’m the good thing you deserve.”

“You’re the only good thing in my life.” “No I’m not. You have your sister, you have Lleyton. And Enzo. And your whole rugby team. Those guys have your back too.” He brushed the hair from my forehead and searched my eyes. “You have you. And you’re stronger than you realise.”

“I know. I know how you like it. You like me to walk in, bend you over and put a load in you, and walk out. I know you like that. And I’m still on board with that because it’s hot as fuck. But sometimes I’ll slow-fuck you and put a load in you. And other times I’ll make love to you for hours and—” He shrugged. “—put a load in you.”

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.” “Uh, you shoved me into a toilet cubicle and sucked my dick.”

Marshall, you have to promise me you won’t leave me. Even if I push you away. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you, and if you throw that back at me, I’m not sure how I’d survive that.”