F*ck Toy: A Dominatrix Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Sybil Swift

“I’m not relapsing. I wanted to make you breakfast because I needed time to think away from your bed. Where I wasn’t supposed to be staying, might I add. You cuddled me all of last night and when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t get away quick enough. So we both push things away that are good for us for different reasons.”

  “We spent half the night up together, I think we’re allowed to break the rules this once.”

  “But they’re there for a reason. If I have to take your kindness, your little romantic gestures, and genuine charmingness without making a fuss, without being afraid to blur the line, you can’t be a hypocrite when I try and do the same thing. I need to learn that good things can come around without strings and you need to understand that you deserve those things, even if there are no strings. We have to work with each other, balance each other. And, good god, stop analyzing every step forward for us as a step closer to the relationship we are both afraid to have together. We defined rules, we’ve been having a good time. We need to get off our paranoid high horses and allow ourselves to live in that good time without freaking out about the future or meaning of a gesture or anything.”

  “We don’t have much time left together.”

  “No, we don’t. And I intend to make the most of it, eyes firmly on the prize of my emotional growth with our rules in tact at the end of all of this, okay?”

  “So we have to trust in the process?” Noah laughed, low and rich, and shook his head as if he was disbelieving of the words that had come out of his mouth. “Everyone’s gone for off season and we don’t even need the staff, turns out we are our own therapists without the help of degree. No relationship comes without baggage, but, geez, try to have a casual fling and you see what happens?”

  “Just because it’s casual sex doesn’t mean it’s casual in every area of our brains. We’re only human, we crave connection.”

  “Then why didn’t you like waking up this morning to my arms wrapped around you, Chloe? Explain your issues, maybe it’ll make mine seem better.” He shot me a look that screamed that he dared me to open up my own can of worms.

  “The cuddling bothered me because you were really hot and heavy. But it also reminded me of how safe I felt in relationships.” She met his eyes and didn’t flinch. “How it’s so much easier to cuddle into the arms around me and not wonder why I’m doing it, than to think about why my own embrace can’t be enough for me. Why everything has to turn into some form of turbo commitment so I can feel that I’m doing all the right things at the right place in my life. The old me would have given up control by laying there, letting you think I wanted more of you than I’m willing to take. But I didn’t want you to wake up and think that it meant something. I didn’t want to think I was shoving you into a boyfriend hole simply because we’d fallen asleep together and now I was dreaming of marriage and kids. So I moved out from under you and did something nice to soften the blow.”

  “We’re really messed up.”

  “You’re more messed up.”

  “We’re not having this argument. None of the cutesy nonsense.”

  “What, you’re too much of man for it?” she teased running her hand through his hair.

  “No, I just don’t think I’ll win. I’m really good at letting you take the lead. “ He winked and she watched him fumble for his glasses on the side table. “Go get your breakfast and we’ll eat together. We might as well keep up this idyllic fantasy until we have to get up and get to work.”

  They’d decided to repaint the sides of the house that morning, refreshing the trim on the inside rooms as well. It had been a good choice because the motions were soothing. There was enough work between them that they become solely focused on their separate tasks—and yet completely aware of each other in their physical spaces. As Chloe’s mind went zen with the up and down brush strokes, her flesh ignited with every brush of air that came from Noah’s direction. Working side by side, every small movement and noise became a turn-on based on the small proximity between their bodies. The delicate warmth from each other’s skin pressed up against each other when one of them accidentally brushed the other until her body wanted a repetitive stroke that had less to do with a paintbrush.

  “You getting tired yet?” Noah asked dipping his long roller into the container where they’d poured a little bit of paint. “We can take a break if you need it.”

  “I’ll let you know, but thanks.” She smiled his way using the small brush to touch up the trim around the door jamb. “Although, could you come a little closer…you’ve got…something…” She gestured with the brush to his face until Noah looked confused and he moved forward toward her so she could get it off of him.

  “What is it?”

  “I got it.”

  Within the span of a second she’d painted a long light blue stripe from the center of his forehead to the tip of his nose with her brush. He hadn’t even had time to react. And she couldn’t control her laughter, doubled over with it while he made a noise of frustration. But he didn’t seem that miffed. At least, he couldn’t have been when he took his roller and painted from her lower back up into her hair while she was clutching her stomach from laughing so hard. Oh, it was war. Before long her arms were aching and they were both smothered in paint. After about the third brush sword fight, Chloe had the brilliant idea to start throwing the stuff by the globs at each other. Until they were each reaching into the large buckets with cupped hands and splattering paint everywhere as it dribbled out from between their fingers.

  Her voice was hoarse from screaming and Noah’s glasses were covered with paint to the point where he could barely see anything. But that didn’t stop him from wrapping his paint covered arms around her waist and bringing her in close for a kiss. The tenderness, a gentle give and take, rocked to her core. Such a contrast from the playful games that they’d been engaged in mere minutes ago together. But she took his kiss with the sweet, slick slipperiness of the paint sliding across their bare skin while they grappled for more of each other with their hands—she took him and she raised the stakes higher. Even the smell of turpentine couldn’t erase the passion that fed through their bodies.

  When she pulled back, he tried to catch her with his lips again. But she remained half an inch away from him, unbending, with her eyes still closed in bliss.

  “Let’s go for a swim and get cleaned up.”

  “The shower?”

  “The sea.”

  He nuzzled against her cheek, his cheek sticky and rough with a mixture of newly painted stubble.

  At that second she knew he might follow her to the ends of the earth—and she would let him.

  She still had droplets of salt beading off her lower lip and wiped them away with the soft towel. She shoved herself into the hot shower that lashed steam against the bathroom mirror. After they’d cleaned off, goofing around in the surf, Noah had agreed to make dinner again and she’d promised to provide the night’s entertainment. The water trickled down her shoulders, gritty with sand. A long inhale made her lungs sting. She blinked back the warmth behind her closed eyelids and let out the giggle that had been knocking at her lips for hours but she’d been too afraid to let out the weird glee. Glee—that was a word best not associated with a man. That kind of happiness was fleeting at best. She knew it. And yet…naked and laughing with the shower wiping off evidence of her fun with Noah her stomach was in a tight knot of nervousness.

  Life wasn’t supposed to be so…easy. And part of her hated him for making it so painless, so uncomplicated, so full of something and nothing all at once. Wasn’t this supposed to be her time of learning? The only thing she had any knowledge of anymore was that she wanted him. And another day didn’t make it any easier or any worse. It was a fact, as bald as anything. And she hated it. Loathed that she could hate him—and that she loved who she was becoming in his arms. The “getting to know you” game she’d pre-approved for the night suddenly seemed like too much.

  She didn’t want to think about the reason why—whethe
r it was because she wanted to know him better or that she couldn’t bear continuing their game without having a firm handle on him, along with her sense of control. With a firm shake of her head she went through the motions of her shower and hopped out without another thought. There was no use ruining everything when they were getting along so well. She’d weather these weird…emotions…like she’d tackled everything else. Ignorance, a trait she was well-known for could now be used quite well. Maybe she could ignore her sudden urge to pick at things and glide along as if the whole time she was doing Noah she wasn’t thinking about all the reasons she wasn’t supposed to be falling, knowing full well that from the second she’d thought about not doing it—it had happened.

  And now she was a giant, walking catalyst. God, she should put a big bold end to their relationship. Yet every time she got near him, the heavenly scent of his skin, the warmth of his chest, and that delightful way he moaned into her mouth when she did the exact right thing with her hand, it all converged to stop her from doing the one thing she knew was inevitable. Relationship rehab wasn’t the place to pick up a boyfriend. Neither of them should have even embarked on…whatever fucked up fantasy they were role playing. The whole thing, relationship, sex, twistedness, whatever, it needed to stop, she had to stop it before she made Noah reject her and forced herself into another downward spiral. Except this time she knew all about caring and she felt every little bit of it. Not because her mother expected her emotions, but because Noah demanded feeling with his every smile and compliment.

  Two screwed up people could find love, but that didn’t mean love wouldn’t cut out and run. No guarantees. No promises. In the end they’d be left gripping air. Only a few days until she was piling into a car to go back to her old life and who knew what the hell Noah was going to do—she didn’t even know him that well to take a guess. Chloe blew out a long breath, straightened her beach dress, and picked up her rubber banded note cards before walking back into the lion’s den of delicious cooking smells upstairs in the living room. At least it was almost over. She wouldn’t have to subject herself to mental torture much longer and she could keep pretending like the best of ‘em. Clearly it made more sense to go out on a high note.

  “You look like you’re thinking awfully hard. Maybe you should stop that before you break something.” Noah flipped the pork chops in the pan and leaned to snatch up the spoon for the mashed potatoes. “Seriously, we did so much work today you should be exhausted. Just, uh, don’t become useless because I have extravagant plans for the night…with your approval, of course.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Didn’t I just get done saying you were thinking too much?”

  “I’m sorry, is listening supposed to be one of my better skills?”

  He scoffed and shook pepper into the mashed potatoes.

  “What have you got for us tonight?”

  She shot him a level look, unwilling to deal with his sexual expectations so close after her almost breakdown in the shower. Was he really raring again? So soon? She winced and tried to hide it—but there wasn’t much to hide it with, so Noah, being the gentleman, ignored it flat out. Nice of him. Or lazy. Ugh, why did her head keep going around in circles. It was a complete mess up there.

  “You’re doing it again. If you don’t stop it you’re going to have an embolism and I really, really don’t want to play whatever it is if it kills me, okay?” He kissed my cheek. “Set the table, will you?”

  With a silent nod she completed the task set out, completely blanking her brain. Until a somewhat brilliant idea almost made her head ache. Who was to say the after dinner entertainment had to be specifically after dinner—couldn’t it be during dinner and be just as good? Or, rather, she’d be so distracted with food that she wouldn’t be able to contemplate any of Noah’s witticisms.

  “We ready?”

  He came up behind her so fast she jumped and his expression was priceless. A cross between utter confusion and complete inability to deal. Almost as if he knew whatever road she was going down, he wanted no part of it. With a dull smile and butterflies, she plopped down into the nearest chair. If she ignored it, which he clearly wanted her to, he would serve the food and she could stuff her face. Less than a minute later he pushed a plate in front of her and took the seat opposite across the table.

  “Did you have a good shower?”

  “Uh, yes. But actually I was kind of hoping to push our game into dinner since I’m kind of beat.”

  Noah almost choked on his pork chop. “Well, I didn’t think I worked you over that well. I’ll take that as a compliment. Sure, what’s the game?”

  “We pick random questions from the cards I made and we have to answer them. Each one of us answers, no holds barred, everything on the table.”

  Noah regarded her with a questioning gaze that took quick stock.

  “This sounds…not like a game…”

  “Trust me,” She blurted out quickly shoving a spoonful of peas between her lips, chewing with a smile. Because people chew peas a million times. At least, if they’re old, they do.

  Noah plucked at the rubber band so the sound thrummed through the room before working it off and picking a random card in the deck.

  “Oh, this one’s good.” Noah tapped the card on the table and shot her an eager grin. “The sexual position you most want to try. Be creative, I’m flexible.”

  There it was again, that niggling in her stomach and the riot inside her chest that made it tighter than a vice. Better to answer than stay silent. If she kept up with the zipped lips, he would know something was wrong. And she really, really didn’t want that conversation spilling out into the open air. What was one answer in the span of everything else that could come flying unexpectedly from her lips—and, hey, if she made it a good one maybe they could try it later? There was an upside? Maybe? Or was she reaching?

  “I’ve always wanted to try it upside down, but worried about the whole blood, head thing.” Chloe smiled shyly.

  “Ambitious.”

  “And you?”

  “Legs over the head.”

  “You’ve never tried that?”

  Noah coughed on a bite of his food.

  “And you’ve tried everything?”

  “Not even close, I’m only saying…that’s a pretty common position. I mean, it’s not upside down.”

  “So because I don’t want to roll over like I’m in space orbit, I’m an uninspired lover, is that what you’re saying?”

  “No!”

  “Well, maybe that position is popular if you’re a porn star. I wouldn’t know because mostly when I’m doing casual sex I’m thinking of the wham-bam aspect and not what pretzel position she’s contorted into but how long I’ve got before I have get out of there.”

  Chloe’s fork clattered to the plate before she’d registered the movement.

  “Is that…what you think of me? Since this is only casual sex, right? So all you’re thinking about is whatever we have to do next? You’re that preoccupied?” There was no cutting her tone in half—not when she couldn’t seem to keep it all inside as her eyes snapped up from her glare at the table and caught his dead on with no mercy.

  He stuttered. That was all he had to say for himself. All he could manage was a bunch of intelligible noises until he pressed his lips tight together and hit the table with a fist. Anger snapped bright from behind his brown eyes. And yet she couldn’t muster up a single apology because she didn’t feel sorry. Push him away, that was the best thing to do right now. A giant, messy blowout that would throw both of them out of bed and her into the quickest cab so she could make an escape. Then she could stop having these damn thoughts.

  All the while she was planning the demise of her arrangement her rage was like a hot, meaty weight inside the middle of her body coursing down to her fingertips. When she looked down they were knotted in the tablecloth. She could only guess at her facial expression, but pretty, it was not. That was a given.

  “N
o, don’t say anything. You’ve said it all and I’m not in the mood for a cover-up. No more of that lovey-dovey bullshit you’ve been pedaling. Let’s lay it all out on the table. I’m something to occupy you, a nice, warm hole and you know what you are to me? You’re a surrogate boyfriend. A surrogate boyfriend that I’ve been trying to move away from but you just keep coming back like the damn plague, as if the world knows, there goes Chloe, better find her a man before she withers away and dies. Well, I’d rather wither away over the course of a million long years than spend another second being a warm hole for you to find whatever misguided commitment therapy that you need from me. Because, you know what? And here’s the kicker…I don’t need you.”

  “Sh-sh.-shut-up!”

  “Excuse me?” Chloe staggered out from the table with clatter as Noah jerked forward, half his chest in the bowl of mashed potatoes, and snatched her wrist. “You don’t want to touch me right now.”

  Before she could speak another word he ambushed her and pressed her up against the wall with one hand cradling her face while the other cinched tight around her waist.

  “Doe-s-s-s this-s-s-s…sss-eem like I’m thinking of anything els-sss-e?”

  She tried to turn her head to reject his kiss but there was nowhere to go against the crush of his overbearing, deliciously hard body. He kept her pinned in the moment with his palm grazing her cheek, while the rest of him made her very aware that he was thinking of nothing else but the taste of her lips and the feel of her body. All of her anger trickled down into the bottom of her toes. Until she could no more be angry at him than be angry at herself for thinking the horrid thought that would be—but wasn’t—truth. Noah needed no words to communicate. And, damn it, it didn’t make her dilemma any easier with her back pressed against a wall.

  His hot breath kissed the cartilage of her ear as she pressed into him. Her eyes went half-lidded and slightly blurry with nowhere to escape from her pointless fight turning into…madness.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she murmured through tight, erratic breaths as his fingers trailed up her inner thigh beneath her dress. Chloe whimpered and sucked in a breath. “You’re supposed to be mad at me.”