Takedown: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance

by Lana Hartley

  Hunter grabs my tits and starts playing with my nipples. Suddenly I feel my toes curl. I’m cumming again, for the fourth time. It’s wild and amazing. I’ve never came this many times before. Each orgasm is getting more and more powerful. My body is numb and shaking.

  As I come down from my climax, Hunter pulls out of me. Logan tells me he wants to fuck my pussy again and I turn around, climbing on top of him and facing him. I bounce up and down on his cock. I’m so wet from cumming and he’s holding onto my hips. Gripping them hard.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he says.

  “Mmm,” I moan.

  He starts fucking me harder, and then he pulls me down and I shoves his cock in my ass without warning.

  “Oh fuck!” I yell. And he starts fucking me harder. Our moans grow louder and mix together, filling the air around us. His dick is shoved deep inside of me. I can’t get enough of it. I want more.

  Hunter comes over and sticks his dick in my face. I start sucking him and can taste my pussy again. It tastes sweet and I leave my mouth open so he can start thrusting in and out of it.

  Logan is fucking my ass, helping me bounce up and down on it and then he stops and puts it in my pussy and starts fucking me hard. I go back to sucking on Hunter.

  “You’re so fucking good at that,” he says, as he thrusts himself into the back of my throat.

  I gag and pull my head back.

  “I want to fuck her,” Hunter says.

  I get off Logan wait for them to move around. Logan stands and Hunter bends me over the desk. He pushes himself into my pussy and Logan walks around to be in front of me. I take him into my mouth while Hunter continues to fuck my pussy hard. He switches to my ass, getting deep inside of it.

  “I’m gonna cum,” he says and grabs my hips. He uses his grip on my hips to help fuck my ass hole and then, I feel him pull out of me. He spreads my ass cheeks apart, examining my holes and I feel a warm liquid squirt all over my pussy and ass.

  I take Logan out of my mouth. “Mmm. That’s so hot,” I say as he finally stops cumming on my ass. It turns me on so bad how he came all over me like that. I love cum so much. Especially both of theirs.

  Logan grabs my head and I open my mouth. He starts thrusting himself in and out of my mouth, hard. It’s hot and rough and I can tell he’s getting close. He pulls out and I feel the stream of warm cum cover my face. I feel it go into my hair but I don’t really care. He’s moaning as he’s cumming on my face, and the sound is fucking hot.

  With cum dripping out of my ass and mouth, I throw my head back and close my eyes, just savouring the moment. I can’t believe that I’m inside my own office with both Hunter and Logan, and that they’ve fucked the living daylights out of me. Right now, there are thick ropes of cum hanging from my skin, beads of it dripping down to my breasts, and I can’t help but feel as if this is one of the best moments of my entire life.

  I remain like that for a moment, just catching my breath, and then exhale sharply.

  I stand up and tell them I’ll be right back. Both guys are getting dressed. I walk over to the bathroom that isn’t too far away and I use the sink to wash the cum off my face. I use a paper towel to wipe away the cum that got into my hair. I walk back out into the office area and find my clothes which had been scattered around the floor throughout our various activities. I get myself dressed and look at the two of them.

  “That was amazing, thank you,” I say to them.

  They grin at me. “No, thank you,” they say together.

  Logan starts cleaning up all of the paper and pens that he threw off my desk when we first started fucking and I bend down to help him.

  “Careful how you bend down,” Hunter says to me.

  I look at him over my shoulder. “Why?”

  “Because it might cause you to get fucked all over again,” he says.

  A feel a chill run down to my pussy. “Is that so?” I ask.

  He nods his head. I bite my lip and go back to helping Logan. We get all of my things picked up and placed back on my desk.

  “You didn’t have to help,” Logan says. “I was the one who knocked everything on the floor.”

  “Yeah but it’s my stuff, and I’m a little anal about where it goes.”

  I watch it dawn on him what I said.

  “You are a naughty, naughty girl,” he says and grabs my ass. He gives me a rough, passionate kiss. Then Hunter quickly does the same thing.

  How the hell did I go from single and lonely to fucking the two most eligible bachelors in the States?

  Hunter

  “Another scotch, sir?” the bartender asks me and I wave to the glass. I’m sitting at the bar of the Intercontinental Hotel in Midtown. Mainly because I have no idea where else to go today.

  See I was supposed to meet this fucking slut that came by the gym a while ago. Some wife of some fucking high and mighty Manhattan hedge fund manager. Gimme a fucking break. Not so fucking high and mighty if his wife is going around looking for other cocks to suck, you know what I mean?

  But then Natalie happened.

  That’s right. Natalie fucking happened. Or I fucked Natalie.

  And the walls of Jericho came tumbling down.

  Basically, in a nutshell that’s exactly what fucking happened. Overnight I knew in my heart of fucking hearts that my world was never going to be the fucking same. No more banging random fucking broads. No more one night stands.

  I’ve fallen for a woman that I shared at the same time with another fucking man.

  I take a sip of the scotch and lean back.

  Yeah, I curse a lot. What the fuck are you going to do about it? You would have stopped reading much earlier if it bothered you that bad.

  Besides, you’re probably wondering how we even get to a happily ever after, after what happened the other day. I mean, for all you know the three of us fucking might just have been the HEA that you were looking for.

  All this is probably some fucking extended epilogue.

  I mean, how’s this shit going to work? Logan and I fuck Natalie at the same time? She spends Monday night with me and Tuesday night with him? He moves into my apartment? I mean, if I have Natalie, I want her all the fucking time. I don’t know if I can share forever.

  I mean, how does that even work? What happened with Logan and me with Natalie the other day…It was…

  I take another sip of the scotch. I have no fucking clue what to think.

  But if it could happen once, then it could maybe happen again, couldn’t it? Don’t get me wrong. It was intense. It was raw. There wasn’t any thought that went into it. We didn’t go in thinking hey, we’re going to both fuck this woman at the same time. The only thing that guided our motions and our movements was lust.

  If it happened once, it could happen again.

  But if it happened again, then what does that mean about me and fucking Logan. Is it maybe time to see if it’s worth burying the hatchet?

  I mean, I know he was hurting too. After Sarah. After everything. We both took her death pretty hard. People change. Maybe Logan has changed enough that we can go back to the fucking relationship we had when I first joined the fraternity. The friendship. The brotherhood.

  I pull out my phone and flick to Logan’s number. I never got rid of it. I always kept it. Despite everything that motherfucker ever did to me, I never got rid of it.

  He’s probably somewhere in the city. He could come over to the hotel bar. Have a drink. Maybe take a first step towards repairing this fucking chasm we’ve built over the years.

  Fuck it, I’m going to call him.

  I take another sip of my drink when my eye catches the television. It’s on mute but I can read the headline.

  “Turn up the volume,” I point to the television and command the bartender. He takes a look at the screen, looks at me, and nods. His face has gone white.

  The volume to the Sports Network comes on.

  “Sources inside the Gazette are telling us that the two premier boxing
titans of the world have a deeper history than the world has ever imagined,” the network anchor begins and my heart fucking stops. I swear to you, it fucking stops.

  Although, not sure why I should be surprised. The headline that I saw that made me ask to turn up the volume? Its still there. Reading: “Hunter and Logan. Two of Boxing’s Heavyweights Linked By College Tragedy.”

  How the fuck did they ever find this shit out?

  No one fucking knows.

  Someone must have fucking gone through my shit.

  I look at my phone, my vision turning red. But I don’t call Logan. I flip the contacts to get to Richard, my agent. It rings twice and he picks up.

  “You see the fucking news about me, Rich?” I ask right as he picks up the phone. No need for a fucking hello.

  “Are you surprised, Hunter?” comes the question right back at me. Almost as if he’s expecting it.

  “What you talking about, dude?” I’m curious. In my head I wonder as to everyone that knows about this shit. There’s Sarah’s family. Logan and me. A handful of fraternity brothers who have never said shit so far.

  And Natalie. Who works at the fucking Gazette.

  Is Richard talking about Natalie?

  “You see what that bitch at the Gazette’s been doing? Profiling Logan?” Richard asks and I frown as I hear his words through the phone. “I guaran-fucking-tee you that Logan got some decent press coverage and got his panties in a twist because you’re the bigger star, baby.”

  Fuck. Pretty boy Logan. It makes sense. But why?

  I don’t get a chance to ask or even think.

  “He wants to fucking fight you in the ring I bet,” my agent says. “Wants to finally settle the score that you guys started so long ago. Now that he’s famous, he thinks he can do anything.”

  I mean he was famous before, but I think I understand the reasoning. He’s got Natalie at his side, pumping up his ego.

  “Natalie,” I almost whisper. And Richard picks up on it.

  “And that bitch Natalie – the reporter – been very close to Mr. Logan the last few days. They hung around the offices of the Gazette. The two of them, Hunter, would absolutely fucking do something like this,” Richard states.

  Logan the greedy fucker who absolutely will do whatever it takes for a multi-million dollar payout. Yeah, I can totally fucking see that. But Natalie? Working with that jackass?

  Breaks my fucking heart.

  Without another word, I hang up. Every fiber in my body is telling me to go find them. Find Logan. Punch him in the fucking mouth. Finish what I started that day Sarah ran out.

  Natalie isn’t like Sarah. She made her choice where Sarah couldn’t. And looks like Natalie picked Logan.

  That’s fine. I’m not going to go track him down and kick his ass in front of her.

  No.

  I’m going to go and destroy Logan where it hurts the most.

  The ring.

  Logan

  I step out of the shower, and towel myself off. The steam has fogged up the mirror, and I wipe it away with the palm of my hand. Now I can see my face.

  It's my father's face. The chiseled jaw line, strong brow. I even have his eyes and matching crease across my forehead.

  You're a champion. Stay focused. Don't lose sight of the end goal.

  The words of my father run through my mind again. "When you've completed 95 percent of your journey, you're only halfway there."

  I wrap the towel around my waist and walk into the living room. The TV is on, and I see the Sports Network flash across the screen. The volume is up and I reach for the remote to silence it. But before I can do that, I stop when I hear what they're discussing.

  “Sources inside the Gazette are telling us that the two premier boxing titans of the world have a deeper history than the world has ever imagined,” the network anchor says. "Few people know the tragedy that has haunted them both since college."

  My body goes tense and for a few seconds, it feels like I'm holding my breath.

  It's like I'm underwater and the pressure of it is pressing down on my chest.

  I force myself to exhale.

  Why is the Sports Network talking about Hunter and I?

  I put the remote down. I refuse to silence the volume now.

  The headline is still on the screen. It reads: “Hunter and Logan. Two of Boxing’s Heavyweights Linked By College Tragedy.”

  What the fuck is going on? How do the Sports Network anchors know about this?

  No one fucking knows the history that Hunter and I share. Not even those closest to us. The only person who knows is Hunter himself.

  And then it hits me. There's only one other person who knows: Natalie.

  A familiar sense of rage wells up inside of me.

  I need to see Natalie.

  I quickly dress and grab my keys, immediately driving to Natalie's place.

  Within moments I'm knocking on her door. I hear her footsteps approach the door and then she answers.

  "What are you doing here?" she smiles.

  Instead of returning the smile, I give her a solemn look.

  "Do you have anything to do with it? Tell me the truth," I say.

  She stares at me, speechless. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

  "Cut the crap. It's all over TV."

  She shakes her head, and opens her door a little wider. "Why don't you come inside," she says, motioning inside of her studio.

  I step in and immediately notice the small size of her place. She wasn't kidding when she said she could fit everything in the space between my fridge and dining table.

  Remembering her saying that brought back the first night we met, and the first night I brought her back to my place. I shake these thoughts from my head.

  She breaks the silence. "It wasn't me."

  "So you do know what I'm talking about … but if it wasn't you, then who?"

  "I wish I knew," she says, shaking her head. "I swear it wasn't me."

  "The only other person who knows is Hunter," I say. "Could it have been him? But if it's him, why would he do that? That was always a carefully guarded secret between he and I."

  "There's only one way to find out," she says. "Pick up your phone and call him."

  Good idea. I don't know why I never thought of that. Of course. That's the simplest solution. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial him. The phone rings, but he doesn't answer and it eventually goes to voicemail.

  "Let me try," Natalie offers. But she dials too and again, it goes to voicemail.

  Just as we're about to try for a third time, we both turn and face the TV.

  A sound has caught our attention.

  What the fuck is going on? Just when I didn't think the day could get any stranger, it does. Sports Network is broadcasting an impromptu press conference with Hunter.

  Natalie and I watch as he takes the stage. He's in a Navy blue suit, perfectly tailored, wearing dark sunglasses. But when he says my name, he has my undivided attention.

  Hunter is standing behind a podium and speaking into a microphone.

  "There's been a lot of talk in recent days about Logan and I. Sports analysts have been wanting to see us matched up for a long time. Some say it would be the match of a lifetime, and I'm here to officially go on record saying that I'm receptive to that match up. Logan, if you're listening, I'm ready to fight you, unless you're too scared to step into the ring with me."

  The audience is going wild. They are chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And flashes are going off as reporters take pictures for the next day's newspapers.

  Hunter poses for them with both fists balled and raised.

  Just then, my phone starts to ring. It's ringing with unrecognizable phone numbers. Has the media already managed to dig up my number? I ignore the calls and shut my phone off.

  I take a deep breath. It looks like I only have one choice now. My back is against a fucking wall.

  "There's no way out of this," I say to Natalie. "I'll ha
ve to fight Hunter."

  "You can't," she says, shaking her head. It's not what she wants to hear.

  "What about the truce? You can't break that. You made a promise."

  "That's in the past," I say, "and unfortunately, Hunter is using our past together to blackmail me into fighting him. I never thought he'd go that low, but now it's clear he has. I can't fucking stand that."

  I look out the small window of Natalie's studio, lost in thought.

  "I have to fight Hunter," I say, nodding my head with the recognition of it all, "because it's the honorable thing to do."

  Natalie

  “This isn’t fair!” I pout, looking down at the empty shot glass in my hand. I turn it around, watching my pale reflection on it, and then just slam it down on the counter. “TWO MORE!” I say, or, well, shout. Dutifully, the bartender makes his way back toward Michelle and I and refills both of our glasses.

  “For someone who doesn’t like to drink when she’s out celebrating, you sure go at it when you’re commiserating,” she tells me, throwing her head back and drinking her own shot. She makes a grimace and then coughs into her hand, the tequila clearly getting to her.

  “But it isn’t fair!” I repeat. Just like Michelle, I make a grimace of my own as I down my tequila. Oh, I’m going to have a massive headache tomorrow. “Everything was going great, and now this! It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “I know, I know…” she agrees, taking the empty glass out of my hands and setting it down on the counter. “But drinking yourself silly isn’t going to help, is it?”

  “I dunno. I feel good,” I shrug, although the whole counter seems to be leaning away from me. “TWO --” I start, raising my hand to call for the bartender, but Michelle moves fast and grabs me by the wrist.

  “No, no more. We have to be in the office tomorrow morning, did you forget about that?”

  “I don’t care about the office,” I pout, but I still allow her to pull me up to my feet.

  “C’mon, let’s go. I’ll get you a taxi.”

  With one arm around my waist, she guides me across the packed room of the bar, pushing our way through the sea of people drinking their Friday night away. We step out into the street, the cold night breeze caressing my skin, and I notice that there’s already a yellow taxi parked out front.