Page 3 of Enemies to Lovers on Biker's Path
In fairness, it isn’t just from his hands that those words come out of my mouth. What really drives my absolute surrender to the pleasure he’s giving me is his mouth. His tongue explores my pussy ravenously. Nobody has ever even gone down on me. I never expect someone to do it with such absolute… What the hell is the word? Enthusiasm? Yeah, that works. I mean, he wants to taste every bit of me. It’s the most breathtaking experience of my life. Even though I can’t lose the reality of who it is actually giving me this experience, I can’t in wany way deny that this is amazing.
This is better than anything I’ve ever experienced before! If this is what it feels like for a guy when he gets a blowjob… Well, all I can say is that I gave blowjobs a little too freely then. I haven’t cum yet and this already feels better than an orgasm. You know the crazy thing? It feels intense as can be while simultaneously feeling very romantic and intimate. I mean, Grant’s lips and tongue have complete and utter control of me right now, so it’s almost like he’s taking whatever the fuck he wants regardless of how I feel about it. At the same time, though, the experience is so intimate and beautiful, so romantic and lovely.
It's like I’m getting fucked hard but it’s also like he’s making sweet and tender love to me!
Grant Hendrick’s, for fuck’s sake!
I don’t have any frame of reference for this contradiction, this feeling of helplessness mingled with this feeling of absolute… um, pampering. I guess that’s the word. I can’t believe the power of the moment and the incredibleness of it.
And then I cum.
And it’s like only at that moment do I realize what an orgasm is actually supposed to feel like. I mean, I know that sounds like an exaggeration but it’s true. The sensations that arrive when the climax hits are so damned powerful! My body locks up in ways no orgasm has ever made it before. I mean, my abdomen always experiences tensing with the orgasmic contractions. Everyone’s does, right? It’s like the rest of the muscles in my body contract, too. I mean, my foot tenses at the ankle and my toes curl up. I grip Grant’s forearms tightly enough that if I had long nails, I’d cut him.
My thighs and calves feel like they’re in the middle of a really difficult yoga stretch or something. Well, I’ve never done yoga but you get the point, right? My whole body tightens up when I cum, and I cry out, “Grant! Yes! Yes!” That’s an irritating thing because I don’t want to ever say anything nice to him. It’s also irritating when I cry out, “Fuck me, Grant! Fuck me!”
Wait. I already begged him to fuck me. So, I guess I already let him know he was making me want him, as much as I didn’t want to let him know. The first time, he didn’t fuck me. He put his mouth on my pussy instead. Well, this time, he does what I ask. This time, his cock slides into my pussy, and it’s like my orgasm gets twice as powerful as before.
And I cling to him and whisper, “Yes!” I whisper that. I swear, it makes the whole situation seem a million times more romantic. Romantic, for fuck’s sake! The really crazy thing is that I kiss him romantically. I move my body against him romantically, too. It all feels beautiful, tender, and wonderful even though I don’t want it to. When he cums, I feel wonderful. I mean, I feel wonderful because of his pleasure. You know what I mean? It’s just a beautiful kind of feeling to know you’ve given your partner pleasure.
But I experienced that feeling because I pleased the man I hate!
Anyway, I want to push him off me. Instead, I hold him tightly. I keep kissing him. When he starts to pull back, I hook my leg over his waist and whisper, “Please. Please stay inside of me.” Yeah, I treat this motherfucker like I like him. Damn it, I treat him just like I treated my toby, maybe better. How can I treat him better than I treated my boyfriend?
I finally get my leg down and push him off. Then, I stand up and pull my panties and my shorts up. I grab the rest of my clothes and start walking past him. “You fucking asshole,” I say.
He stands up, still pretty much naked, and just looks at me with that fucking smile! “Prick!” I shout as I hurry away. I duck into the trees just to get dressed without him looking. While I’m in there, I hear his Harley start up. I step out of the path, expecting a confrontation. I don’t get it. Instead, I see him on his motorcycle traveling away from me.
I am so fucking pissed!
And the next day I run the path and he rides up again. I get to fight with him then, thankfully.
And I fuck him again.
And the next day.
And close enough to every day that when it doesn’t happen, I’m disappointed.
And when I’m on my period, we fight and then I get on my knees and suck him off! What the hell? I still hate this motherfucker. I don’t get it. I just don’t understand why I’m wrapped up in all this, and I can’t wrap my head around anything that’s going on.
But for three months, I job this asshole outlaw biker’s path and fight with him and fuck him every time I see him.
Every fucking time.
Chapter Four
“You fucking asshole,” I say bitterly. Then, I reach for his belt.
He catches my hand. “Zoe, that’s enough.”
I’m utterly confused. I mean, this is what we do. We run into each other, fight as foreplay, and then screw. I stare at him in shock and soon anger. “What the fuck do you mean that’s enough?” I spit out.
“Where the hell are we going with all this?” he asks.
“Right now, where we’re going is pretty simple. Your dick is going in my cunt unless you’re too much of a fucking wimp to act like a man.” Calling my pussy cunt actually makes me feel powerful. I never do that, ever. It feels dirty and wrong. It’s like… I don’t know. It’s not sexy. I don’t mean I feel powerful because it turns me on. I mean I feel powerful because it further cheapens sex with Grant.
“Only if you say something nice to me,” he says. “I’m not going to have sex with you almost every damned day for the rest of my life and never hear anything nice from you.”
I stare at him for a minute or two and then just roll my eyes and try to get at his belt again. Once more, he catches my hands. “What the fuck is your problem, asshole?” I shout.