Does It Hurt?: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

“Let me taste you, bella.”

I moan, spreading my legs just as Enzo crawls up my legs, placing soft kisses along my thigh as he goes.

“Please,” I whisper.

A flailing hand whacking me in the head brings me out of my dream, startling me awake.

I growl, sitting up and glaring at Enzo. He’s sucked into another nightmare. Whatever brain demon is plaguing him is causing me bodily harm now, and with the fact that I was in the midst of a sex dream and now feel like I have blue balls, I’m beyond frustrated.

All day, we’ve been on edge after that thing scared us out of the lighthouse. I was damn excited to pass out and hopefully escape into some place better. I had achieved that, too.

I don’t even care that the dream was about him. I can’t blame my subconscious for wanting to relive the best sex I’ve ever had. Nonetheless, I am mad that the real-life thing fucking ruined it.

“Enzo,” I snarl, pushing his arm roughly. Fuck not waking him. If I have to be wet and miserable, then he gets to be angry and awake.

He doesn’t wake up, so I ball my fist and send it flying into his shoulder.

One second, he’s thrashing his head, the next, his hand is wrapping around my wrist, and he’s rolling on top of me while his other hand is around my throat, squeezing tightly.

I yelp, my brain having trouble catching up to the sudden change.

“Enzo,” I squeak, the pressure around my wrist and throat becoming too much. “Enzo!” I shout, my voice barely making it through.

Then, his spine is snapping straight, releasing me with a gasp.

“Che cazzo succede?” he barks. I can’t see his eyes, but oh, can I feel them. The heat from the fire spouting from them is giving me a sunburn.

I choke out a cough. Now that I’m no longer dying, the anger comes right back.

“You dickhead!” I shout, pushing at his chest, but he’s an immovable beast. He snatches my wrists, forcing them above my head, the both of us panting heavily.

“The fuck is your problem? I could’ve fucking killed you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was having a really fucking nice dream, and your stupid-ass hand smacking me in the head ruined it.”

“That’s why you woke me? Over a fucking dream?” he asks incredulously.

“It was a nice one,” I say petulantly. “And it seem I did you a favor anyway.”

He’s silent, and I huff out angry breaths.

“What was the dream?”

I blink several times, wondering why the hell he cares, and especially why he’s still on top of me.

“What? Why does that matter?”

“Apparently, a lot, if it’s making you hit me.”

“You hit me first.”

That was childish, but I’m regretting mentioning the dream. I refuse to admit that it was about him, and I am absolutely adamant he never finds out that he was about to fuck me in it.

“What was the dream, bella?” he asks again, his tone dropping wickedly. And just like a goddamn wizard, I’m opening my mouth to tell him exactly that.

“You know what? Whatever. When a man and a woman are attracted to each other, they have coitus. That was about to take place in my dream, and you fucking ruined it. Happy? Get off me now.”

It was my intention to make it sound as unsexy as possible—a fantastic distraction technique—yet his weight seems to have only grown heavier as he leans in more.

“It was about me,” he states plainly. I open my mouth to deny it, but it feels like my lungs have been incinerated. The air between us is smoldering, and even if I did have lungs to speak of, I wouldn’t be able to breathe through the tension.

Arousal is rebuilding between my thighs, and I’m transported back to that place of needing something that I should never have had to begin with. I never should’ve touched Enzo Vitale.

“What was I doing to you?”

“N-nothing,” I stutter. “You woke me up, remember?”

“That’s another lie, Sawyer. I can smell your pussy from here. That’s not nothing.”

A whimper whittles out of my throat, despite my desperate attempts to swallow it down.

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s much easier to just spread my legs and let him have his way.

The sound of the chains begins, starting from the metal steps, up to the hallway, and down toward Sylvester’s room.

I hold my breath, waiting for Enzo to roll off me and let the sounds of a lost prisoner take over.

Except he doesn’t. Instead, he draws my wrists together, holding them in place in one hand while his other slowly trails down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I shiver as his fingers catch the collar of my t-shirt, brushing across my skin, then moving down again.

“What was I doing?” he asks again, quieter this time.

I have a mouth full of sand, unable to formulate a coherent thought beyond his touch.

Hours ago, he spat in my face about how much he hates me. He also swore that he wouldn’t fuck me even if I begged him to.

What good is that promise now while he plays with the edges of my shirt, as if my body is a composition where his fingers engrave each note of intention within?

He’s no better than me—throwing away his integrity for selfish needs.

“You were going to fuck me,” I tell him. “You were going to do exactly what you said you would never do again.”

He’s quiet for a beat, and part of me wishes I just kept my mouth shut and let him fuck me. Wait to remind him how much of a liar he is after he’s come inside me.

“What’s one more nightmare to live with?” he whispers.

It’s a punch to the chest, enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Normally, I’d thrash to get him off me and refuse him, but a different type of anger courses through me. If he thinks I’m a nightmare, I’ll be the worst one he’s ever had. I’ll be the one keeping him up at night for the rest of his life, waking without me there but always yearning for me.

I’ll let him have me one more time, only because he’ll regret losing me after.

“What’s one more,” I echo forlornly.

Tonight, he’s determined to do this, and I wonder if it’s only to escape his own mind. More than anything, I want him to tell me what plagues his dreams at night, but the lingering sting of his words and the hard press of his cock on my lower stomach keep me silent.

“Were you naked?” he prompts.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He hums, then grabs the end of my t-shirt and pulls it up, releasing my arms to remove the fabric altogether.

My nipples harden as the chilly air settles on my flushed skin, coercing goosebumps to the surface. I shiver, despite how I’m burning up inside.

Next, he slides my bathing suit bottoms off, then spreads my legs so he can settle between them.

My cheeks burn when I feel just how slick my inner thighs are. My brain is split into two sides of the same coin. I want him to feel how badly I need to be touched, but I don’t want him to know it’s only for him.

Gathering my wrists back in one hand, he once more pins them above my head, hovering above me. Hot breath fans across my sensitive flesh and I can’t help but squeeze my thighs around his hips.

“Where did I touch you?” he questions, keeping his free hand safely on my outer thigh. His palm burns against my skin, but his mere presence radiates heat.

“My nipples,” I confess hoarsely. “With your mouth.”

He hums, the deep sound crawling along each nerve in my body. I inhale sharply when he leans down and captures my right nipple between his teeth, drawing the peak into his hot mouth and sucking sharply.

My back is bowing off the bed, tremors racking my body as a moan rolls off my tongue.

“Yes,” I whisper, grinding my pussy against him, disappointed when I feel the material of his shorts instead of his bare cock.

I should’ve said he was naked first, purely for my own self-gratification.

He delivers a sharp bite before releasing my nipple, tipping his chin up just enough for the moonlight to catch the severe planes of his face and reveal his darkened eyes.

It’s paralyzing—the way he hates to want me. It’s empowering.

“You were kissing up my thighs,” I tell him, holding his stare. “You were begging to lick me.”

A divot appears in his right cheek, a slightly crooked curl to his lips. Those dimples give him away, otherwise, his amusement could only be detected in his eyes.

“You said let me taste you, bella. My pussy was dripping wet just as it is now, and you were nearly drooling just to get a taste.”

A growl forms deep in his chest, and he sits up, releasing his grip on my wrists.

“Keep your hands above your head, Sawyer. If you want to touch me, you’ll be held to the same rules and you will beg for it.”

Shouldn’t be an issue.

Except the moment he slides down my form, settling his shoulders between my legs, I’m bursting with the need to run my hands through his hair.

I resist while he brings my sweet dreams to life and places soft kisses up my thigh, maintaining eye contact as he does. The shadows are deeper now that he’s no longer directly in the moonlight, but I can still see his eyes just enough to feel the intensity behind them.

Right when he reaches my pussy, he pauses, his breath fanning across the sensitive area.

“Let me taste you, bella,” he whispers devilishly, that accent making the words sound so much more delicious than in my dream.

My heart flies into my throat, nearly preventing the desperate yes from escaping.

The dimple reappears, but he denies me the sight, dipping his chin down and gliding his tongue in one long sweep up my slit.

Again, my back is arching off the bed, and I’m curling my hands into tight fists to abate the need to touch him.

“Oh, fuck,” I moan, panting when the pointed end of his tongue swipes back and forth across my clit, igniting every single nerve within.

How does he manage to hit every one of them?

My hips buck, and my eyes roll. Already, I’m nearing an orgasm. That dream pushed me toward the edge, and Enzo bringing it to life is transcendent.

My hands grip the pillow above me, curling into it fiercely. He diverts his attention down, plunging inside my pussy with fervor, licking me so thoroughly that I’m convinced there isn’t an inch of me he hasn’t feasted on.

He hums against me before growling, “How does it feel to be eaten alive?”

“It’s not enough,” I mewl breathlessly. “I’d rather you fuck me to death.”

He rises to his knees and tugs his shirt over his head by the back of his collar. My mouth waters at the sight of moonlight and shadows engaging in a war across every ridge and curve on his physique.

I’m on the verge of sitting up and licking his abs. However, he’s already pulling down his shorts, revealing something much more tantalizing. His cock juts straight out, curving upward just the slightest bit. That’s the secret to him hitting all those perfect spots inside me.

“Why did you get to be God’s favorite?”

He stares down at me with a savage expression.

“You can ask him yourself when I take you to see him.”

I bite my lip, but a gasp breaks through when he grabs my hips, lifting them to the height of his own, and then lines his cock to my entrance with only my upper back on the bed.

He keeps me there suspended, so close to feeling complete again.

“Let me take you to him, bella.”

“Fuck, yes, fill me up—”

He drives inside before I can finish, a sharp cry replacing my plea. He pauses, giving me time to adjust to his size. It’s unnatural, the way he fills me so completely.

“Shh, the caretaker will hear you,” he murmurs.

On cue, there’s a creak outside our door, racketing up my heart rate to catastrophic levels. I curl my lips together, attempting to keep quiet while Enzo withdraws, then slams inside me again.

“Enzo, let me touch you,” I beg.

Uncaring of his response, I grab onto his forearms before he can answer, feeling the thick protruding veins threaded throughout them. He picks up a steady pace, his grip on my hips becoming bruising.

My mouth opens on a silent scream, my back bowing until I’m practically balancing on my head as he fucks me.

I’m clawing at his arms while the sharp sound of skin slapping arises.

“Oh God,” I cry, trying to keep my voice down but failing miserably.

“Can you see him, baby? Ask him for forgiveness.”

“Why?” I pant, another high-pitched moan nearly swallowing the word.

“Because you worship me now.”

He ends his promise with a sharp thrust, this one angled differently to hit that spot inside me that has electricity racing down my spine.

God, how could I not worship him? Sex with him is the only time I’ve ever prayed.

I bite my lip hard, the orgasm deep in my stomach building rapidly. I’m trying to slow it down—to savor this—but my body has taken on a mind of its own. My hand darts to my center, and I’m circling my clit firmly, amping the pleasure up to dizzying heights.

“Enzo, I need to come,” I rush out, my tone hushed but high-pitched.

“You come when I tell you to,” he growls.

One hand releases my hip, moving to where he drives inside me. I feel pressure, and then his finger is slipping inside my pussy above his cock, stretching me further.

An unnatural sound leaks from my throat, the foreign sensation shocking. I’ve never in my life had a man fuck me with his dick and finger at the same time.

His digit curls, hitting my G-spot so precisely, it’s almost too intense.

“Oh my God, that—wait, fuck, Enzo,” I stutter, the entirety of my body beginning to vibrate.

My bladder feels like it’s on the verge of releasing, and though I know exactly what he’s going to make me do, I feel out of control over my bodily functions.

“You’re going to come for me, bella, and you’re going to fucking paint me in it. If I’m not covered, then I will make you do it again until there’s nothing left of you.”

Once again, he’s curling his finger, massaging the area with savage persistence. It only takes seconds before I’m erupting.

I have enough forethought to slap my free hand over my mouth in an attempt to disguise the scream tearing out of my throat.

After that, I lose all cognitive function. My soul is ripped from its vessel, no longer sustainable when it’s been completely decimated in this moment.

I’m consumed by the euphoria transporting me back into the middle of that ocean, where a much greater force seized control over me.

This time, I don’t know if I’ll ever resurface. I don’t know if I want to.

Distantly, I feel Enzo pull out of me and deliver sharp slaps directly on my pussy, heightening the pleasure. I’m exploding, but I’m too far gone to process what’s happening around me. All I know is that my eyes are rolled far back into my head, and my body is seizing.

Then he’s driving inside me again, resuming his position with both hands gripping my hips while he savagely rolls his own into mine. It doesn’t take long before he’s lost right alongside me; my name growled so deeply, that I feel it along the surface of my skin.

Reality eventually takes over, pulling me from the sea of bliss. Slowly, my senses come hurtling back in, and I’m thrown back into my body.

I’m flat on my back with Enzo hovering above me, still inside me but no longer moving. His head is bowed, and he’s trembling and silent.

“Enzo?” I croak, growing concerned. There’s an innate fear that he’s already regretting what we just did.

He straightens, and my eyes widen. Just as he demanded, his chest and abs are dripping with my release, droplets trailing down the contours of his body.

“Oh,” I breathe, at a loss for words. I grab for my discarded t-shirt on the bed and sit up. “Let me clean that off.”

His hand snaps around my wrist just as I lift the shirt to him. “Don’t.”

Awkwardly, I retract my hand and scoot over to huddle against the wall. The bed is soaked, and I’m glad it’s on his side.

“Was that the nightmare you were hoping for?” I mutter, feeling the tension thickening between us.

He glances at me. “No. It was worse.”

I swallow the hurt, not even sure how to interpret that. I can’t tell if it’s a play on words or if he truly thought the sex was awful.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

We’re back to hating each other.

The silence is suffocating as I slip under the covers and turn away from him.

On our first night together, we either talked or basked quietly in the aftermath of a good fuck. Now, all I feel is cold while I listen to the low creak outside our door, followed by the sound of chains dragging along the floor.