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Story: Pucking His Enemy

I’d be a goddamn liar if I said it didn’t flip a switch in me.

I kiss her again—deep, possessive, like maybe I’ll taste her name on her tongue.

Then I finally pull out, cock dragging slow, and she gasps like it hurts.

Yeah, I feel that shit in my spine.

I don’t say a word.

What am I supposed to do— thank her for the best fuck of my life? Compliment her pussy like we’re swapping Yelp reviews?

None of it fits.

So I keep my mouth shut.

I stand, glance back at her one last time, and make my way to the bathroom.

Condom’s still clinging like a regret— I strip it off, drop it in the trash, and lean against the sink.

Piss. Wash. Breathe.

Try to calm the wild-ass idea in my head that maybe I want more.

Not forever. Not feelings.

Just…another night. Another taste.

I open the door, towel slung low on my hips, cock already halfway hard again just thinking about her.

“Hey, so —”

My words die on my tongue.

The bed’s empty. Sheets twisted. Her scent still in the air, her heat lingering on the mattress.

But she’s gone.

No name. No note. Not even a fake number scribbled in lipstick.

Just the ghost of her kiss and a promise I never got to make.

Chapter three

Katarina

Threeweeksisplentyof time to forget someone—unless, apparently, that someone has kaleidoscope eyes and a mouth that ruins you for every other man on Earth.

I still don’t know why I left without saying goodbye.

Well, maybe I do.

He’d wrecked me in every possible way, left me boneless on his mattress like some used-up dish towel, and then waltzed into the bathroom like nothing happened.

And I… I panicked.

No, that’s a lie.

I bolted.