Love thy Enemies

The Negativity

"Oh I can't stand you right now!" I yelled at Jack Atlas.

"Really? Well I can't stand you either!" He yelled right back at me. His thick English accent coming off strong. His eyes dropped as they stared straight at my lips. His hands caged me in. My back pressed flat against the glass wall of the high-rise building. His soft pink lips claimed mine smooth ones and my hands, out of habit, touched his toned chest. Trailing up his muscular body and around his shoulders to play in his spiky blonde hair. His hands came up my thighs and held them up. Grabbing my ass whilst he was at it, making me throw my head back giving him more access to kiss and devour my jaw line and chin. My mind's telling me 'he's no good' but my body's screaming 'yes!'. My body kept wanting more of this bad boy. We had a thirst for each other and even if it wasn't the least bit healthy, at some point in time it was worth dying for. His hand groped my crotch and I moaned. He grabbed a fist full of my straightened out hair and sunk his kisses into my neck like a bloodthirsty vampire. He was working me, winding  me up til I was wanting him, needing him, practically begging him for it all and sure as ever he'd give it to me like hell. Thrusting into me so fast and hard I couldn't help myself but heave out in pleasure. Trying to reclaim the air he forever takes from me with no mercy. He would love it and grunt out my name when his grip on himself loosened and I'd weakly follow and say his too.

The next day it'd be back to square one. I'd eye him nasty and pour salt in his coffee as revenge for when he'd cleared out the girls room of tissues the same week I had my period. I made it a point to go ahead and paint his entire office a tacky neon pink and made his furniture a bright and sickening yellow green colour. Once he had his office redone he brought me in for a "talk" where he bent me over his desk and spanked my chocolate backside raw whilst giving me deathly slow, long and deep strokes. I'd come so much that night, there was a sweet sticky wetness running down my legs like I'd pissed my pants. His pants were stained too and he only noticed after he came in me. His hand prints we're vivid on my chocolate skin and it confused me at how hard was this man gripping my body and slapping my ass. I called his tailor and Jack lead me to the private bathroom in his office. There he decided to care for me and clean me up. He brought my pencil skirt in and offered to replace the entire drawer of panties he'd so carelessly torn to shreds every single time we had some fun. Did I enjoy fucking my boss? Yes. Dude is blessed for a white boy. The only issue was that Jack Atlas was a manwhore. He had a bitch with him everytime I wasn't having it. I'm not sure if he had fucked them too, but this is Jack Atlas we're talking about. Multi billionaire play boy. He's definitely got a body count bigger than the one million Huns Mulan single-handedly unsubscribed from this planet.

"Kyna. To my office. Now!" He spoke harshly through the intercom. I got the memo clear as day. He wanted me to be his stress reliever. I should put an end to this toxic relationship with him. It's no good for me and I've had just about enough of it. Sure the sex is undoubtedly the best I've ever had, but no amount of sex can compensate for his past errors. I took a notepad and I walked over to his office. Gently I knocked on the door, regardless of how many times he's told me I'm the only one allowed to barge into his office as though it were mine. He answered for me to come in and he then told me to lock the door. His hands snake around my waist and I drop the notepad and pen. My hands press flat against his chest. His lips trail up my neck before they lock onto my lips. He brushes my dreadlocks away from my ear as he leans in to whisper into it.

"Come to New York with me. Please." He whispered. The word "please" sounded so foreign coming from him. Why is he asking me? Usually he'd have no regard of my life or my own opinion and he'd whisk me away without my consent. We'd gone around the world in conference rooms and boardrooms. Never sight seeing. This man would just put me in his private jet and have us shoot off to the next city in a winged tube, all because he felt it was necessary for me to take a "break". The break being him between my legs, breaking every single barrier I've set up against him. Barriers to stop myself from catching feelings any further. It started when he asked me to be his fake girlfriend to get his ex fiancé off his back. He had me in large sun hats that covered my face, so he could protect my identity, and designer dresses he picked out so only he could enjoy the sight of me, whilst parading me around to socialites and the rich folk. Some of the dresses were tight he'd be unable to resist touching me, whilst the other dresses were short and he would place his hand on my thigh whilst we drove through the city in one of his expensive cars. We went on dates for his publicist to capture photographs of. He made it clear to his photographer that he better make sure to not catch my face. The headlines would read, 'Jack Atlas is officially off the market', 'New York's Milk and Honey' and the one that infuriated me the most, 'The play boy multi billionaire Jack Atlas' forbidden fruit.' like being black is the equivalent of being from an inter-galactic extraterrestrial alien life form originating from an entirely different planet! He's a good actor, because I couldn't read between the lines that our non disclosure agreement of a "relationship", that all of it, every last bit of it, was all for show and that not a single part of it was real. That it was all in my head. At some point though, I thought he fell for me, just as I had fallen from the skies above for him. I fell so hard for this man I hated myself for it.