Stuck on You (Steamy Enemies To Lovers Rom Com)

My heartbeat pounds so loudly that I can literally hear it. The waves are hotter and longer, and they drag me under and toss me around, which is perfectly fine. I’m okay to surrender to it.

And then Ash buries himself deep inside me, and I feel him tremble. He makes a grunting, caveman sort of noise so hot that it nearly sends me into another series of waves. The existing ones pick up when I know he’s coming, falling apart like I am. I wrap my arms around his neck, and I imagine I’m holding him when I’m probably just holding on. He’s big and heavy on top of me, covering every bit of me, and I’m enfolded in the circle of his arms. I have my legs wrapped around him, pulling him close, keeping him inside me. We’re hot and sticky, stuck together in parts, soaking wet, and still, the waves keep washing over me.

This has to be the longest, most intense climax in the history of climaxes ever felt by anyone in the world and throughout history, ever.

“Holy baked potatoes,” Ash grunts.

“Yeah. Loaded with sour cream and bacon bits,” I pant.

“And those chive things.”

“And maybe some grated cheese.”

“Loads of grated cheese, topped with chili,” Ash adds breathlessly.

“Chili is good,” I giggle.

He kisses my forehead, grunts like a caveman again—why is that so hot anyway—and rolls to the side. My legs are still locked around his waist, so I roll with him, trembling as the aftershocks hit. I untangle myself carefully and try to regulate my breathing. Ash seems to be doing the same. I have the urge to thank him for the most spectacular experience of my life, but instead, I kiss him and let him wrap his arm around me as I rearrange myself next to him. I tuck my head against his damp chest, inhaling the delicious and dark male aroma that comes off of him in heady waves. He’s spicy and salty, and god, was there ever a better combination? Don’t get me going on sweet and salty because I’m still hoping that’s coming.

“So, if that was the dummy round, I’m curious about the others.”

Ash runs a hand over my hair, and I practically melt because it feels so intimate with his heart hammering under my cheek. “Soon. Unless you want to kill me, I promise, soon.”

“Oh. You’re going to do the thing all guys do and fall asleep now?”

I can already hear his breaths getting deeper, and somehow, even that is intimate and touching. “I’m just going to rest my eyes. I need five to recover from the dummy round, and then you’ll have the real thing.”

My lady cave throbs in excitement though I don’t know how because she was just truly and thoroughly pleasured twice. There are things I clearly don’t know about my own bits. Like how right they feel with Ash’s bits and how much they enjoy the shared experience between us.

I realize then, with no small amount of horrible shock, that I’m truly, irrevocably, and beyond a doubt—I don’t know anymore if it’s just about the curse—entirely screwed.

This Ash isn’t the Ash I thought he was, and I’ve completely changed how I feel about him. I have to break the curse before I spend days, weeks, and months learning that he’s even less of an asshole than I thought he was. That he’s actually a good person, a good man. Because I’m pretty sure I could learn it. I could learn to like him. My body already does, but whatever, my body is a traitor. She just likes to participate in the O’s Ash gives. And he gives super amazing O’s. Yeah, my body’s on board, but what’s even more dangerous is that my mind and my heart could get on board too.

I have to remember that it’s the curse.

The curse of Ash’s dick.

Shut up. That is not helpful.

Whatever. You know it’s true. Your fingers are a poor substitute, and you’re not brave enough to buy sex toys, so what can I say?

Maybe my internal voice is more like an internal dialogue with my lady cave.

Whatever the curse, be it the curse of the ring, the curse of Ash’s dick, the curse of finding out how exciting it is to have him participate in orgasms or whatever, or even if it’s the curse of kindness, it is still some kind of curse, which means it’s not real. How many times have I heard the old adage about feelings not being facts? As in, don’t trust that shit, don’t trust the afterglow, don’t trust swelling heart feels, and don’t trust your gut reaction. Wait, maybe you’re supposed to trust that one.

Ugh, this is such a bloody mess.

I can hear Ash’s heart beating beneath my ear, and it’s making things wonky. His breathing is getting deep and slow, which means he’s going to fall asleep. I’m still trapped in the circle of his arms, squished up against his big, sweaty chest. His heavy legs are tangled up with mine, pinning me down, and his breathing tickles my forehead. It all feels so good.