Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 31 **

Patricia

After I've wrapped my legs around Dior's muscular body, he carries me into my bedroom while kissing me. My imagination is already running wild. I'm tasting his tongue and running my hands through his thick, dark hair, already wet and ready to take him.

The man standing inside my bedroom looks like he just stepped out of every woman's wet dream. Dior is dressed casually in dark jeans and a white t-shirt that hugs his bulging biceps and does nothing to hide his cobblestone abs trying to escape. I can count the sexy ridges through the fabric.

I stop biting his lower lip and lean back, and as expected, those piercing blue eyes are even more intense when we are this close.

Dior smiles at me, a devious half-smile that makes my heart stop inside my chest—he is gorgeous. I'm panting while my belly churns in anticipation. The alpha man, who I'm trying to hate, seems ready to eat me alive—and as embarrassing as it is, I want to let him.

I take a deep breath and try not to overthink. Dior helps me by speaking again and renders me unable to think and breathe. I'm lost around him, a freaking slave to his lips and body. I'm not a small girl, but I'm tiny in his arms.

"I'm liking this new side of you, Patricia," he says, still grinning in that seductive way.

And the little piece of resistance I thought I had disappears when I hear the lust in Dior's rough voice. My pulse is drumming against my neck, and I try not to laugh. But I can't help myself—this is too much—I'm about to have sex with Dior fucking Lavigne, and I'm nervous!

Dior circles the bed, eyeing me with curiosity sparkling in his eyes. He lifts one eyebrow when I snort. "Did I say anything funny?"

"No." I bite my lips and squeeze his shoulders as I study the blue in his eyes. Shit. There are those butterflies again. His face is inches away from mine, and his breath is like a warm caress against my skin. "I guess I'm... Freaking out over this situation."

"Ah, regretting allowing me to get this far?" Dior asks though he is still smiling.

"No." I wish I were lying, but my underwear would tell him the truth either way—all Dior needs to do is feel down there and see for himself how utterly wet I am for him.

He shows a glimpse of his teeth. "You're not very talkative today, but that's alright. I think I can make you communicate with me in other ways."

Dior angles himself, and I'm slipped down from his arms onto the creaking mattress below him. A scent of detergent fills my nostrils before it's knocked away by the masculine musk of Dior. He climbs into the bed with me, down on all fours, until I'm trapped between his immense, brawny, hot-as-hell chest and my white sheets.

I lean back against my pillow, and my hair spills out. I'm locking my eyes with the large man, entirely out of breath. I'm taken by his appearance, enchanted until I realize the difference in sheer size and power between us. Dior isn't the boy I once knew, but a grown-ass man pinning me beneath him.

His voice comes out low and commanding. "Take off your clothes."

"But-..."

Dior tilts his head, and I stop talking when his lips curl into that private smile, which I'm begging to know what it means. It turns me on, and I sit straighter, removing my clothes while Dior hovers over me. He is sitting on his knees, watching me with his intense eyes.

"Good girl," his voice is husky, and although praising, I can tell Dior is in charge. I shudder when he speaks again. "Relax, Patricia, lie down against your pillow and spread your legs."

I blush. What if I smell bad or something? Shit. My nerves are through the roof, and suddenly I'm afraid I will be dirty down there, filthy. What if Dior will think I'm nasty and bolt out through the door and leave me humiliated beyond relief?

"Do I have to?" I ask, biting my lip for the billionth time today.

"Yes," his blue eyes bore into mine, willing me to let him do whatever he wants with my body. I'm in his hands, and the glint in his eye tells me I can't prevent this from happening—he will have me. "I want to know how you taste like."

"Uh..." I'm running a cold sweat. "I have done nothing like this before."

His gaze dips over my body. "Very surprising, considering what you look like—you're beautiful."

My cheeks burn even hotter. Was that a compliment? I'm too shocked to talk like a normal person and my inhale is sharp when Dior spreads my legs and dips down. My eyes lock on the ceiling while my heart delivers one punch after the other to my chest.

"I'm nervous," I admit, even if I understand Dior must have noticed.

There is a chuckle before I arch my back—Dior licked my opening, and the little tease was enough to cause a reaction.

"Well, I'm going to go down on you, and there is nothing you can do about it, princess," Dior says darkly, totally shameless about his words. "Enjoy the ride."

Dior bends down again, and my pussy throbs in anticipation before his wet, warm tongue presses against me. God, it feels so good. I close my eyes by instinct, and somehow, my hands find his thick, dark hair to bury themselves in.

I've never experienced this kind of pleasure, and one glance down at the sexy-as-hell man working his skilled tongue down there is almost enough to send me over the edge.

Dior pauses from licking me, dragging his mouth up to my clit, where his warm breath tickles it. He then speaks, and the vibrations, holy shit—I can't take it without letting a moan slip out through my lips.

"Fuck, you're hot as hell. Spread your legs further," Dior orders, and the only thing I'm capable of is obeying.

A series of fireworks are going off within me, and I groan softly, rolling my hips to get his tongue deeper inside of me. I want Dior to be rougher, faster, and give me more—yes, I want more of this man!

My whole body shivers. Dior is tracing the insides of my thigh with his large, calloused hands, squeezing while pressing his tongue against me, lapping like he loves every minute. My hips buck forward again, toward the sensation. Dior adds more pressure, reading me like a book, and soon I'm arching my back, moaning loud and clear.

I dig my hands into his hair, gripping and pulling while my pussy pulses and flutters. I need Dior to be rougher. Sadly, I realize he is only teasing me, not letting me finish. I'm a blink away from being overwhelmed and drowning in bliss, but the hot guy busy licking me clean is a devil.

"More..." I breathe. "Please, I need more."

Dior pauses, kissing my clit before speaking. "More?"

"YES!" I exclaim. "Don't be gentle—I need you to be rough!"

There is a chuckle before the air is knocked from my lungs. Oh-my-god, yes! Dior goes down again, and this time he is relentless. Jesus Christ, the man is a freaking sex god!

I gasp, and I pant, going entirely lightheaded before it seems as if I'm climbing a ladder, one that makes me rock my hips. I want to cry out and die, slip away, but Dior is holding me with both hands, tieing me to the pleasure delivered by his mouth, and then it happens. For the first time in my life, I orgasm and tingle all over—it feels so good!

"Oh-my-god!" I cry out, panting like a freak.

I open my eyes, facing Dior, who is gazing down upon me with a satisfied grin over his lips. His hair is messy from my fingers having run through it, and his teeth are pearly white.

"Don't celebrate yet, Patricia," Dior widen his grin. "We aren't done yet."

I stare at him standing over me and let my eyes fall to his enormous bulge. Dior gives me a knowing wink, and then his hands are removing his jeans, revealing grey Calvin Klein boxer briefs and a happy trail pointing down toward it.

I almost lose the ability to breathe. Seriously, my mouth turns drier than the deserts of Sahara—the man's stomach is a work of art with sexy abs, larger-than-life pecs with protruding nipples, and further down, there are v-lines and ridges and valleys of hard-packaged muscles.

"As you may have guessed, I still want you to pleasure me," Dior crashes down next to me, meeting my eyes with a cocky smile. One arm goes behind his head, making his muscles pop. He winks at me yet again. "Do whatever you want with me, Patricia. I'm all yours."