Finders Keepers_An Enemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Kara Chase

  Besides, undressing in front of him was one of the most exhilarating things I’ve ever done in my life. My heart was racing, tingles were going up my spine, and you could almost feel the pressure rising in the whole apartment.

  I knew he was lusting after me, right then and there.

  God, I wish I could’ve just turned around to see the look on his face...and more than the look on his face; I’m betting that my eyes wouldn’t resist traveling down south, to someplace far more interesting.

  Hey, don’t judge—you’d want to do the same if you were on my shoes; don’t try to tell me otherwise because we both know it’s true.

  As I hear him walk away, his footsteps slowly fading, I finally exhale all the air I’ve been holding.

  My heart is still racing, and I can hear its heavy pounding on my eardrums. Hell, I’m shaking right now.

  And well, to be honest, I’m wet too.

  I don’t need to be coy around you, do I?

  It’s funny, though. I’m not the kind of woman to feel like this. It’s just not something I’ve experienced often. Usually, I’m only slightly interested...but I like to think that it says more about the kind of men I encounter than about who I am.

  But with Lucien...where do I start?

  He has a strong demeanor, that deep voice that always sounds so damn commanding, and his body...oh, his body.

  From his chiseled jaw to his broad shoulders, from his strong built arms to the perfectly sculpted abs that I’m sure he hides under those tailored shirts, everything in him makes my blood boil.

  I just can’t stop thinking how it’d feel to have him push me back against the wall, his hands running down the side of my body while he goes in for the kiss, and then—okay, shit, I need to keep it together.

  I need to keep my head in the game.

  Sure, he might have a body to die for, but I can’t let myself get carried away with it.

  If that happens, it’s game over. And you can be more than sure that I’m not about to give up on this apartment just because Lucien looks like some kind of sex god. No chance in hell.

  Whatever happens, I’ll drive him out of here. He might have hauled all his manly shit to this place, but I won’t stop till he has it all packed and ready to move again. I just hope I don’t have to go as far as throwing all his shit out the window.

  Oh, but if it comes to that, I’ll do it.

  The thing is, I’m not so sure if this is going to be that easy.

  In fact, I’m pretty convinced that kicking Lucien out is going to be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever attempted. Sure, I stared down mob bosses and Russian oil tycoons in the courtroom, but Lucien is a whole different ball game.

  Lucien is a real man. And there’s only one way you can beat a real man: you have to be a real woman.

  Throwing myself on top of the bed, I sprawl my naked limbs on top of the mattress and stare at the ceiling. My mind slowly drifts back to just a few minutes ago. I wonder what was going through his head when I started to take my clothes off.

  Did he, even if just for a fraction of a second, consider coming back into my room? Did he think about just going for it?

  I know he stared...I could almost feel his eyes going up and down my curves. But did he get hard?

  Oh, who am I kidding—of course he got hard.

  It’s just a damn shame that I couldn’t see it happen.

  You must be curious about it too, right? I mean, a man as confident as he is, with a body so perfectly built...a woman has to wonder just how many inches he’s hiding from me.

  Sure, alright, it’s not always about the size. Performance matters. But when you can have both size and performance, well...

  Smiling to myself, I close my eyes and let my mind wander just a bit more. I imagine my fingers working on his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, and I picture his strong chest and perfect abs revealing themselves to me.

  I imagine unbuckling his belt, and I let my mind build an image of the perfect naked man. Someone so damn sexy that I just can’t help but salivate.

  Oh, God, I’m so wet right now.

  Before I even know what I’m doing, I’ve allowed my right hand to slowly make it way down my stomach, my fingertips softly caressing the skin on my belly.

  I hesitate when I feel the fabric of my thong. I know I shouldn’t let him work his magic on me, but...

  Screw it, right? This is just a fantasy, and I remain in control.

  Biting on the corner of my lower lip, I hold my breath and allow my fingers to go further down. When I feel their soft pressure right over my clit, I feel a pleasant warmness spread through my body.

  In just a matter of seconds, that warmth turns into a scorching inferno, my blood slowly starting to boil inside my veins.

  “Mmm,” I sigh as my fingers slowly move over my clit, the fabric of my thong still in the way. Clothes can be so uncomfortable sometimes.

  Grinning like some silly teenager, I arch my back and undo the clasp on my bra.

  I take it off and exhale sharply as the cool air in the room caresses my hard nipples. Then, time to do away with my thong: I slide my hands down the side of my body, hook my thumbs on the piece of string tight against my hips, and push it all the way down as I lift my ass up from the mattress.

  Now completely naked, I take both my hands back to my breasts and give them a gentle squeeze, imagining my hands to be Lucien’s.

  God, I wish I could spread my legs, open my eyes, and have him right in front of me, ready to fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.

  My pussy is so goddamn wet, my nipples are as hard as a rock...

  Oh, I’m more than ready.

  Gritting my teeth, I actually have to fight against the urge to get up from the bed, waltz into the living room completely naked, and simply go for it.

  I want to feel his lips against mine; I want to run my tongue all over his body, savoring every single inch of it…

  I want to open my mouth and allow him in.

  For a brief moment, I pause and catch myself.

  What the fuck is happening to me?

  I’ve just seen him a couple of times, and I’m this wet! This isn’t normal.

  But then the thought of him returns—Lucien, his hands smoothly trailing down my arms, down my hips, and into my…

  Oh, well—I guess I should just enjoy it, right?

  Running my tongue between my lips, I take my hand back to between my legs and without an afterthought, I press two fingers right above my clit.

  My eyes roll in their orbits, and I feel electricity rising up my spine. My thoughts seem like leaves blown away by the wind, and the only thing I can focus on seems to be Lucien.

  It doesn’t take long for my fingers to be moving as if they have a life of their own. With two of them inside of me, my thumb still working on my clit, I feel as if I’m making my way up to Cloud number 9.

  “Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I feel a tidal wave of pleasure building inside of me.

  My muscles are tensing up, my breathing is growing ragged, and my mind feels as it’s on fucking fire.

  “Fuck!” I repeat, this time louder, and then I arch my back as sudden pleasure takes over every single muscle in my body.

  With ecstasy running through my veins, I just grit my teeth and ride this wave of pleasure as best as I can. By the time I’m through, I’m covered in sweat and more exhausted than if I’d just finished running a marathon.

  “Oh god,” I whisper as I lay sprawled on the bed, breathing so hard it feels as if my lungs are about to pop like balloons.

  In just a few seconds, I’m fast asleep.

  “What the...?” I mumble, sitting up on the bed.

  From outside of my room comes the drowsy sound of guitars and a lazy voice I can recognize from my dad’s old records.

  Alright, what the fuck are the Pink Floyd doing in my living room?

  Swinging my legs off the bed, I put on some clothes and storm out of the bedroom.

&n
bsp; What the fuck is Lucien doing?

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucien

  At this point, you’d think I’ll just pack up and leave—that all this pink and girly shit Vivian’s thrown in this apartment nullifies it of all its worth.

  Wrong.

  Even if it took all of me to get over Vivian’s deliberate display, when she flaunted herself at me, when she took her shit off in her room, teasing me with that luscious little body of hers…

  I always remember one thing.

  No matter what this broad pulls out, I got one better.

  I’m serious—this is a war.

  And any war has a series of battles.

  I may have had to retreat from a few of those battles already, but I’m not surrendering in the war yet.

  Not by a motherfucking long shot.

  Remember—Lucien Parker does not give up.

  That pink and girly living room—with splotches of man furniture interspersed throughout—now has one new addition I brought in from the master guest room.

  Right there in the middle is one of the loves of my life.

  My exercise bench.

  And it’s more than a bench.

  It’s my fucking happy place.

  I bought it when I was just an intern at Solomon Brothers. I installed everything—from the seat, to the notches where you could put the barbells.

  I’ve got that and one more thing—an old school boombox.

  That’s right. Vivian wants to play Brittney?

  Wait till she hears some Pink Floyd.

  So that’s my plan.

  I’m going to lay here in the living room and bench press two hundred pounds as I listen to The Dark Side of the Moon.

  She wants to drive me out by being all fucking girly?

  She wants to tease me as she does it?

  Tempt me with her wiles?

  Well, wait till this little girl sees what it’s like to play with a real man.

  Let’s see if she can handle it—shall we?

  “What is going on in here?!” Vivian yells out shrilly, her heels clicking on the living room floor.

  I’m down on my back, pumping up my pecs on my bench press, so I just grunt in response.

  I can’t be expected to talk to her as I’m doing my set.

  It would be irresponsible.

  Vivian stands there, tapping her foot on the hardwood floor, her arms at her hips, looking at me with eyes of fire as I continue lifting.

  I wonder if I should stop.

  I normally do twelve reps, but I’m counting on fourteen now, just because I don’t want to fucking look at her. She’s probably changed.

  No. I want her to look at me.

  I want her to see my body as I lift more than her body weight. Now on the fifteenth rep, and she can take her time while I exercise my muscles.

  I want her to see that I’m a fucking man.

  I’ve got a bottle of scotch on the end table that I’m saving for later.

  I won’t lie—I took a drink beforehand and spilled some on the floor. But I cleaned it up.

  With that fucking pink Hello Kitty pillow, that is.

  Now Hello Kitty is all fucking drunk because she smells like Glenfiddich 15-year old single malt.

  Welcome to my world, baby. After this, I’ll light up a cigar, and Hello Kitty can cough all the way to the fucking pound for all I care.

  They still take cats to the pound, right?

  Speaking of pussies, I glance over.

  Jesus-fucking-Christ.

  Yeah, Vivian isn’t wearing that shirt and yoga pants anymore.

  Now she’s got this black wraparound dress that hugs her body like a fucking extra-small condom on a black dude’s cock.

  This is probably not a good idea. I really shouldn’t be getting a boner looking at a broad as I’m lifting two hundred pounds of iron.

  I mean the blood needs to go to my upper body muscles—not to my cock.

  But let's face it though.

  This Vivian woman can make a gay dude—who is so fucking gay that he pisses rainbows—throw away his homosexuality for one night in between her fucking legs.

  By the time the dude finishes licking those delicious titties and spanking that perfect round ass and sticking his cock inside of her, he’ll probably forget all about his love of show tunes and Gilmore Girls and saving furry animals.

  But then just as he’s coming down from heaven because he got converted by Vivian, I’ll be there to punch him in the face—and knock him out.

  Because Vivian Sweet is fucking mine.

  And anyone who tries to touch her has to touch me first.

  And if you touch me, I’m going to fucking kill you.

  Unless you’re Vivian.

  Okay, I need to stop doing reps. The blood is leaving my fucking brain, and I don’t think I’m making any sense anymore.

  I put the barbell back on its notches and give a loud sigh of exertion.

  I’m fucking sweating.

  My muscles are fucking screaming from being ripped to shreds with my twenty reps.

  I sit up and look at Vivian.

  I’m going to take my time as she stands there, glaring at me.

  I start at her feet. God, I want to put those toes in my mouth and make her fucking squeal.

  Then, those shapely as fuck legs. Of course, you’ve heard me go on and on and on about her pussy and her ass, but let’s not forget those amazing fucking hips.

  And that fucking cute and flat tummy.

  Those tits.

  That neck.

  And that face, with

  those eyes, staring daggers at me.

  “Are you quite fucking done?” Vivian asks, trying to be angry. “You’re acting like a beast.”

  I say she’s trying to be angry because that’s exactly what she’s doing.

  Trying.

  This woman isn’t angry.

  No.

  This woman is all wet.

  I stand up. My full height, and I take two steps close to her.

  Her anger turns to a flash of fear. But it quickly goes away and becomes irritation. But extremely weak irritation, as my sweaty naked torso comes within a hair’s breadth of her.

  “That’s because I am a fucking beast,” I growl into her ear.

  “You can’t just turn the living room of my dream apartment into a corner gym, Lucien!” she gets out, trying to recapture the anger she never felt.

  “Well, you can’t turn my dream apartment’s living room into a fucking doll house with your fucking Brittney-bitch music blaring,” I retort back.

  “Oh yeah?” she asks.

  I almost fucking laugh in her face.

  “I mean, you can try,” I say to her. “But you’ll fail.”

  Vivian looks up at me defiant.

  “Why exactly is that?”

  Sweat falls from my forehead, and I’m so close to her that it falls on her.

  Or rather, one drop falls from my forehead and down onto her left tit, the part that’s exposed from the dress.

  Yeah, this is fucking odd, I know, but it's like it does something to her.

  “Because I’m too much of a fucking man, baby,” I whisper, not moving.

  That’s when I know it.

  We’re going to fuck.

  She’s going to spread herself on my exercise bench, and I’m going to impale this woman with my fucking cock.

  She’s going to hold on to my barbell for support as I fucking take her in ways that will make her fucking go crazy. She’ll make noises that only birds can hear.

  I knew I was right.

  I feel her nails graze my left pec.

  “You think being a man lets you take whatever you want?” she asks, her voice all husky.

  It’s the kind of voice where you know whoever’s talking wants to do less speaking and more…sucking.

  Cock-sucking.

  Me. My cock.

  “Sucking my cock,” I say, letting my thoughts come out of my mouth.r />
  “Excuse me?” Vivian asks, momentarily startled.

  “You want to suck my cock,” I say, grinning at her.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she says with a look of disgust on her face; a look I don’t buy at all.

  “I should ask you what’s wrong with you, baby,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “I mean, I can smell you from here.”

  Those nails that were grazing my chest?

  Now, they slap me on my bicep.

  And then they come back for a squeeze.

  Fuck. We’re actually going to do it this time.

  I’m not going to let her say something snarky and bounce away.

  I’m going to go in for the fucking kill.

  This hunt is going to be over soon. And Lucien Parker will be victorious. Once I fuck her, she’s going to give up the apartment to get away from the memories.

  At least, that’s the desperate plan my brain hatches.

  Something tells me that’s not exactly what I want. But my mouth is already moving in towards her.

  I’m going to kiss her soft soft lips.

  And I’m going to pull her close—all the way to me.

  Her eyes are already half closed. She’s waiting for me. Her lips are parted.

  BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

  What the fuck?

  We’re both jolted out of our little bubble.

  We look to the door.

  BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Dude—what’s going on here?

  It’s almost like someone doesn’t want us to fuck. They’re purposely cock-blocking us.

  What could possibly happen now to ruin the moment? Fat Putin coming to tell us we can’t fucking live here?

  BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

  We’re both out of our lust haze at this point.

  I take a deep sigh as Vivian backs away.

  “Coming!” she says to the door and begins to back away.

  She turns around, and I see that ass and how it looks in that dress.

  Like a soft heart-shaped sourdough roll made of lust and desire. I can’t take it any longer.

  I need her.

  Now.

  I’m going to take her.

  Fuck whoever is knocking.

  No—don’t.

  The only person getting fucked right now is Vivian Sweet.

  Time to take what’s mine.