Page 41 of My Irresistible Enemy

He stroked my cock with quick, confident movements, tugging on my balls with his other hand before sliding it back. He circled my hole a few times, probing it gently as I whimpered, before sliding one finger inside, just up to the first knuckle. A moan tore from my mouth, completely out of my control.

“That’s it,” Nolan said. His voice was gentle but sure. “You can let go.”

I wanted to tell him to shut up. That I didn’t need his praise or his direction or anything at all—except warmth shot down my spine at those words. I whined, unable to stop myself. I didn’tneedto be told what to do. But maybe I wanted it.

Nolan’s eyes were intense, focused but oddly tender as he worked his finger in and out of me. His expression turned hungry when he added a second finger, and I could feel heat building in my core, a molten desire growing. I groaned as he slipped a third finger inside.

“There you go,” he said. “Show me how much you like it.”

It was so fucking presumptuous, so condescending, so—goddammit, it was so hot. His fingers stroked across my prostate and my hips stuttered against the wood, another moan escaping my lips. The only thing that made it bearable was the desire I saw mirrored in his eyes.

It wasn’t long until I was shaking on the counter, Nolan’s clever hands knowing exactly what I needed before I could even ask for it. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, and was on the verge of begging him to fuck me anyway, to forget about condoms, to tell him I didn’t care, when he slid his fingers out, leaving me empty and craving more.

I followed him with my eyes as he walked to the end of his workstation. A bunch of cooking implements were gathered in a jar, like a bouquet of silicone and silver flowers. My stomach fluttered as he inspected them, then thumped when he selected a spatula with a thick, rounded handle. It was made out of silicone, the end torpedo-shaped to provide a comfortable grip.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. I’d held a copy of that spatula at my own workstation while deeply fucking up more than one bake. I’d never once considered how it would feel inside me.

Nolan flipped it around so he was holding it by the flat end, then brought it over to the jar of coconut oil. He dipped the handle in, then pulled it out, thickly coated and dripping. When he came back to me, I spread my legs again, and he brought a finger back to my hole. I could tell it hadn’t even fully closed yet.

“Tell me to stop,” Nolan said, his eyebrow arched, his smile way too satisfied. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

Dammit, I wanted to wipe that smug look right off his face. But I wanted him to fuck me even more.

“Don’t stop.” My voice was faint but needy. “Don’t go.”

He removed his finger and replaced it with the tip of the spatula. I felt my entrance give in at even just that slight pressure. My hole was eager, desperate to be filled again.

“Ready?” Nolan asked, his other hand circling the head of my cock.

I nodded. “Fuck, yes, I’m fucking reaahhhh—” I breathed out as he slid the handle inside me.

He did it in one smooth motion, pushing way past the point his fingers had gotten to. I panted and whined, my ass accommodating the intrusion until, at last, he stopped sliding it forward and went back to stroking my cock.

“Fuck, that’s—it feels—it’s so—” I babbled as he began to move the spatula inside me, lightly at first, his motions gentle and teasing. But soon enough, he was sliding it in and out with a twist, making my hole stretch around the widest part of the base, pulling it almost all the way out before thrusting it back in. And it still wasn’t enough.

“I want—please, you have to—oh God, I’m so—”

“Tell me what you need,” Nolan said, his eyes radiating satisfaction. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

“More,” I begged. “I need—fuck, just—more. I’m so close. Please, Nolan.”

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” His smile widened. “You even said please. I didn’t know you knew how to be that polite.”

“Fuck. You,” I panted, my hips bucking off the counter at the same time.

I wanted to ask for it rougher but didn’t want to give him the gratification. Then again, it wasn’t like I had much dignity left. That had flown out the tent flaps somewhere around the time my underwear had come off.

I grabbed his wrist, and he stopped moving immediately. His eyes went wide, flashing with fear.

“Sorry,” he said, already drawing the spatula out. “I’ll stop. I shouldn’t have—”

“Jesus, fuck, don’tstop,” I growled, pulling his wrist towards me, shoving the spatula back in. “Harder. I need it harder. That’s all I was trying to—fuhhhhhck.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up the pace, each twist and thrust wringing waves of sensation out of me. I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I’m—I’m gonna—fuck, Nolan, I’m—”

My head fell back on the counter as I came. Nolan’s hands kept up their rhythm, pulling out every ounce of pleasure until I was floating, suspended, my whole body lit up. He didn’t stop moving until my hand slid from my thigh to the counter, my chest heaving, my eyes closed.

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