Page 81 of XOXO

“What?” I demand, looking down at him, my breath coming in short pants.

“I just.” He wets his lips, his white-blond hair falling into his eyes and out of its perfect coiffe. “I want you to know… I had nothing to do with you being on the show. It was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. I only found out the day before we started, and if I’m being honest, I’ve had a thing for you since we met.” It’s all coming from him in a rush, like something he’s needed to say for a long time. “But for all of culinary school, you were with that fucking dick weed—”

“Dylan.”

“I stand by my phrasing.” He glares at the memory, our hips still rocking together. With anyone else, this would be a strange conversation, all things considered. With Miles, it’s not. We’ve always bantered like this.

He looks up at me again. “And truly, leaving the blast open was the biggest mistake of my life. I know I apologized to you in the moment, but please believe me, I haven’t stopped beating myself up over that. That’s actually why I stopped by the bakery last year. In my clumsy, useless way, I was trying to make amends. I was gonna writing you a glowing review — and holy fucking shit!” He lets out a low swear, tossing his head back; the sound only intensifies the low throbbing between my legs.I slide his pants down, impatience tugging at me. “As much as I love hearing you grovel,” I murmur, pulling off each pant leg, “I’d kinda like to follow this random, spur-of-the-moment urge and fuck your brains out.” A pause. “Is that okay?”He moans from low in his chest, his eyes never wavering from mine. “That’s… yes.” His voice is raspy. “That’s… fuck, Willa, that’s everything I’ve—”He cuts off with another string of swears as I reach down to pull his cock from his boxers, and damn… I let out a low whistle. He’s big.

I don’t have a lot of comparison, but definitely bigger than Dylan. A furious blush spreads over my body as I look down at the bead of liquid on the tip. And following that same impulsive, reckless train of thought that got me here in the first place, I decide to do the wildest possible thing: Take him into my mouth.

Words can’t describe the sounds that fall from him as I take him in… as I let my tongue travel up and down his length. He thrashes and moans beneath me, his hands coming to thread through my pink hair, and it’s only then that I’m able to identify the sensation that urged me towards this.

Power.

I travel up and down over his length, loving how he feels in my mouth… but more so loving how he makes me feel: Powerful. Deserving.

I wrap my fist around him and begin to pump, so focused that I don’t have time to consider that I’ve never enjoyed this before… never. I begrudgingly gave Dylan blow jobs when I was on my period, but I never felt like this about. I never wanted more, wanted—

He pulls me off his cock, his chest heaving.

I wince, hoping I don’t trauma-dump my way through an apology. I’m out of practice with this. “I’m sorry. Did I do something—”

“—no.” He cuts me off, his eyes slammed shut. “You’re, um. Doing this too well.”

Oh. I giggle. “Right… so is it okay if I just, you know.” I make a vague gesture; it’s hard to think when you’re this turned on. “Fuck you?”

He doesn’t answer in words.

With another growl, he wraps his arms around my waist, his mouth on mine. We don’t waste time after that. My peasant blouse comes all the way off, my skirt sliding down my ass and landing on the floor.

When he leans up to kiss me again, I already know what he’s going to do; without breaking eye contact, he rips my panties clean off. “You’re so wet,” he mutters, eyes heavy-lidded, as he reaches up to part my folds. I gasp beneath his touch, but I don’t think it’s a surprise to either of us that I’m already done with teasing. I want him inside me.I push on his shoulders until he’s flat beneath me, not caring about the insecurities that plagued me with Dylan. How could I worry about that little patch of pudgy skin on my stomach when Miles is staring at me like I’m the most gorgeous thing on the planet?I position myself above him, meeting his eyes once more. “I’ve got an IUD.”He dares to lift his lips in a smile. “I figured. You’d never do this — at least not to me — without some form of protection.”I cut him off with a kiss. “No more commentary.”A smart retort dies on his lips as I sink onto his cock — but honestly, a smart retort would’ve flown from my head too. We both release staggered moans as I slide onto him, but he’s bigger than I thought. It’s funny how it works that way. I’ve already seen him and had him in my mouth, but fitting inside me is something else entirely.“Take your time,” he murmurs, his palms coming up to grip my ass.“Don’t tell me what to do,” I hiss, but listen regardless, taking him inch by inch. When he’s finally inside me to the hilt, he extends his palms to help me balance above him.“Okay?” he whispers, as my hips start to rock.“Okay,” I confirm, losing myself in the sensation, and oh… oh, my God.

I release a ragged breath, adjusting my hips so my clit hits his stomach. He answers with a moan beneath me. It’s reassuring, in the strangest way, that it’s as good for him as it is for me.But good isn’t enough of a description, really. This is better than anything I ever had with Dylan, not that I want to think about him now. Good can’t possibly describe the feeling of being soaked around Miles’ cock, of his hard length deep inside me, of the tightening that’s just beginning in the base of my belly. We’ve just started, but I’m already close.He can tell.“You gonna come for me?” Miles asks, his voice doing that low rumbly thing again.For the first time, I don’t answer with a snarky rebuttal. “Maybe?”

He chuckles, a vein throbbing in his neck. “Let me help.”I don’t get to ask how before he moves. In a flash, his hands leave mine to work simultaneously. One slides into my bra, pinching my nipple; the other slips between my thighs, sliding along my clit, and ohh… OH. “I’m gonna—”“Come for me, Willa,” he commands, his eyes an unmistakably darker shade of blue. “Come for—”

And with a scream, I do.

I really, really do.

My cry fills the trailer, but I’m so lost I hardly hear it. I surge on the waves of it, my peak so intense it’s almost painful… so intense that I hardly hear him screaming my name, hardly feel his fingertips on my hips as he pumps once, twice, before his cock twitches with his own release.

Sensation finally returns to my body as I slump over, sated and warm, my cheek pressed to Miles fucking Compton’s bare chest.

He brings it up later, when we’ve both recovered a bit.“I think we should both resign from the competition.” WHAT?!

I lift my head from his chest, ignoring how his skin sticks to my cheek. “Why?”He sighs, looking down at me. “Listen. I know I can be impartial, but if this gets out, it’ll look… bad.”I consider this. His image, his brand, is very important to him, but still… “Listen, Miles Compton.” I narrow my eyes. “You might have the funds to just open a bakery, spur-of-the-moment, but some of us are broke. Dead broke.” I shoot him a glare. “I don’t expect I’ll win the grand prize, but second would really help. Hell, even third place is ten thousand dollars! It’d be enough of a little nest egg to put down a deposit, and—”“—Okay, okay.” He raises his hand to cut me off. “Point taken, but listen.” He swallows, his eyes meeting mine. “I’ve… actually been looking to open a bakery. Somewhere in the district.”I scoff, returning my cheek to his chest. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”“No, I’m serious! I have the funding, you’re right, but I’ve been looking for someone with enough experience and drive to go in as co-owner.”Oh. My heart beats in my ears. I’m half-naked on the couch of his white production trailer, but this feels more monumental, more important, than Dylan’s shitty, drunken marriage proposal. “Are…” I wet my lips. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”He chuckles, his hand returning to my bare ass. “I’m saying whatever you’d like me to say. I’ve known you for ages, Willa. Through all of culinary school. I know this seems like it… came together fast.”“No shit,” I mutter; he disregards me and plows on.“But really…” He traces swirls on my ass; my skin erupts in goosebumps. “I’ve… been into you, more than into you, for over half that time.”I bite my lip. I wish I had a guide on what I’m supposed to say to that. Sorry, I only realized I was into you yesterday, but I’m still totally down for opening a bakery with you!“You don’t have to say anything,” he says lightly. “I just… wanted you to know. So it didn’t seem like a random offer. Which brings us to the real issue here.” He sighs, his hand dropping from my skin. “I’m not gonna be able to return as a guest judge.”I don’t expect the burst of anger at his words. I lift from his chest again, my nostrils flaring. “THE FUCK?!”He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Willa, listen. Like I said, I don’t doubt my ability to be impartial, but–”“—then that’s all there is to it!” I insist, raising my eyebrows. “This is absolutely not the first time a reality show judge has slept with a contestant. You know that, right? Besides, you’re enough of an asshole that I definitely believe you can be impartial. No offense.”He waves this off. “None taken. But, really… we’d have to keep this quiet. Whisper-quiet. We probably shouldn’t meet up again, or even show we knew each other beforehand.”I think back to all my conversations with Danielle. It would be easy enough to lie to her; she’d understand. “I can do that.”He smiles down at me, his eyes no longer piercing. Or threatening. “You’re probably gonna win anyway, you know that?”

Valentine’s Day, Next Year

From the front of the shop, the bakery bell chimes, announcing the arrival of a customer.

“Are you on that, Patrice?” I call into the headset, my hands covered in flour.

“Got it!” she replies, chipper as always. “Welcome to Enemies to Lovers, DC’s finest bake shop. Can I take your order today?”

I chuckle, kneading the flour into a soft dough. The name of our shop still cracks me up. Miles is less amused, but I’m not sure what he expected after going into business with me, of all people. Frankly, he should be happy I didn’t go with a pun. Believe me, I wanted to.

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