blood runs black

XII

'there is no better view than watching than watching you strip down after we argue'

- why don't we

Enzo

After Dior confirmed that she wanted Enzo to fuck her, Enzo eagerly invited her to his penthouse with no shame. There was hardly anything valuable in his penthouse that she could look at, or take, and that was why he offered. Despite the fact that he rarely ever brought his hookups to his penthouse, he didn't mind Dior being there.

She was a threat, yes, but as of then, he had one thing and one thing only that he wanted from her - a quick fuck.

Dior left the club first, getting into her Audi and driving off, and a short while after, Enzo followed. She knew where he lived, because she'd be an awful enemy if she didn't, and made her way there slowly, giving Enzo enough time to get there first. The doorman at his penthouse seemed to be alarmed by her presence, but didn't say anything.

Dior simply scoffed. Her security was much better.

She made her way to the penthouse, keeping the plan in her head. She was there for a reason, aside from sex, and she couldn't lose focus. Besides, she liked the idea of secretly being in control, because she was. Enzo was a cocky man with only sex on his mind, and Dior played into it with other intentions.

She liked that.

"You leave the door unlocked just for me, or are you really bad with home protection?"

Enzo looked at the door, a smirk on his face. He'd been waiting, leaning against a table with a glass of whiskey in his hand, his shirt completely unbuttoned, revealing an unsurprisingly beautifully sculpted set of abs, covered in tattoos that she knew had stories behind them. "I figured if I didn't leave it open, you'd try to break my locks."

"Try?" Dior laughed. "I would break your locks. And you'd cry about it."

"Cry about it?" Enzo pushed himself off the table he was leaning against, leaving the glass of scotch on the tabletop, and walked towards Dior. "I think that's more your forte."

"Are you insinuating I'm emotional just because I'm a woman?"

"No, just because you're emotional."

Dior was ready to continue arguing, just because she loved to argue, but Enzo stopped her from doing so. He was in front of her now, lust in his eyes, and pushed her back against the door with his body. Enzo looked down at Dior, his hand running up and down the curve of her back, and leaned in close.

"You sure you want this?"

Dior raised a brow, looking up at him, slightly surprised. "Why, Moretti, I didn't expect you to care that much about my consent."

"I'm not a monster."

"Could be argued otherwise."

"Answer the question, Castillo."

Dior wanted it. As much as she hated Enzo, she could admit he was a good looking man, and she had a feeling he knew how to please. Even if she wasn't there for just sex, for a task she didn't actually want to complete, she did want the sex. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure."

"Good." Enzo smirked, and then he lifted Dior up, her legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his shoulders. "This doesn't change anything between us, though. Don't forget that."

"Shut up and kiss me, Moretti."

Enzo didn't have to be told twice. His lips met hers, not wasting a second, immediately deepening the kiss, pushing her further into the door behind them, hands running up and down her back. Dior's hand moved up to the back of his neck, tugging on his hair ever so slightly, showing that she liked the kiss just as much as he did.

When Enzo pulled away, they were both breathless, and Dior's face was a little flushed, her lipstick smudged a little, and Enzo loved it. He wanted to see her more ruined, more imperfect beneath him. 

Wordlessly, Enzo wrapped his arms tighter around Dior's waist, moving away from the door and carrying her to his bedroom. His bedroom was exactly as Dior expected it to be - dark, simplistic, and yet somewhat sophisticated. She couldn't help but wonder how many other girls he'd brought there, how many other girls had been in the same position as her.

She didn't get the time to think about that, because Enzo threw her all but gently down onto his bed, taking her heels off and tossing them aside. He pulled his shirt off, and Dior couldn't help but admire his tatted biceps, running her hands over the muscle, her nails scratching against his skin in a way that made him shiver.

It suddenly felt a little too intimate, and she had to remind herself that this wasn't an intimate thing, and that they weren't anything but.. well, enemies with benefits. And she had things to do, trust to steal, information to find and relay back to her father. 

"You look so pretty beneath me."

Dior rolled her eyes and unzipped her dress, pulling it off and chucking it to wherever her heels had been discarded. "I'm always pretty."

Enzo rolled his eyes this time, looking down at Dior's body in the dimly lit room. He couldn't help but notice the bruises on her skin, and as much as he didn't care for her, not at all, he had to ask. Just for his own conscience. "Where are these from?"

Dior looked down at her own stomach, painfully reminded of why she was there, why her father had beaten her and forced her into completing this godforsaken task. "Sparring."

"That's it?"

"You keep asking questions and I might start to believe you care about me." 

"As if. I'm just not a monster, Castillo, like I said before."

"It's just from sparring." Dior lied, her words so effortlessly deceitful. "If I didn't train, I wouldn't be able to knock you on your ass every other week, would I?"

"You don't knock me on my ass every other week."

"Don't I?"

Enzo rolled his eyes again, and put his hand around Dior's ribcage, slipping under her body to unclasp her bra. It was far too effortless, and Dior couldn't help but laugh at how it showed off how much of a playboy he was.

"You're gonna have to teach me how do that. I can't even unclasp a bra with one hand."

"All part of the charm, darling."

Enzo pulled Dior's bra off, tracing the lightning tattoo that went down the side of her ribs, under her boob, and down to her hip, stopping just at the top of her thigh. It wasn't the only tattoo she had, and he liked it. He then pulled her underwear off, revelling in her complete nakedness, a form of vulnerability, in front of him.

"You done staring?"

"Can't I admire?"

"I thought we were here to fuck."

"You're so simple minded."

Dior let out a laugh, because if anyone was simple minded, it was Enzo. Especially because Dior was here with ulterior motives. "Sure I am."

Enzo undressed himself quickly, taking off his belt and leaving it on the bedside table - he wasn't sure what she was into yet. Very swiftly, he was bare in front of her, and Dior couldn't help but be the one to admire this time. Enzo was a cocky bastard, and he definitely made up for it with his body.

"Still sure?"

"So sure."

And then Enzo touched Dior, hands wandering all over her body, touching and teasing, preparing to show her the best night of her life. 

Dior's game had now begun.

Fuck you, Enzo.