A Forbidden Night With The Enemy

I stepped out of a black SUV. It was close to midnight, and a drizzle painted the air. I opened my umbrella, inhaling the fresh smell of rain on the asphalt stinging my nose, and headed toward Naomi.

Tonight was our graduation gala night, and I was ready to let loose; my whole life has been a script written by my father, Hector Reyes, and today I chose to embrace the spontaneity that life has to offer. Earlier, I graduated at the top of my class in psychology. The honors degree my father had demanded since I spoke my first word.

Everyone said I should soar, but I was a hollow shell, a void where joy should be. There was more to life than playing the perfect girl at an expensive family dinner, where everyone pretended to be someone they were not. So, when Naomi talked me into something exciting and reckless, I let her pull me along.

"Come on, Reyes," she teased, shoving open the bar's back door. "Tonight, you get to be wild. Doctor Wild." I bit my lower lip in excitement as she dragged me inside the bar.

The lounge hummed with low jazz and the clink of glasses. Naomi disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone. I ordered something strong—I didn’t even bother to find out what it was; I just needed the burn to steady my nerves.

I turned around, observing the room until my eyes locked onto his. He looked straight into my eyes. He must have had his gaze fixed on me ever since I entered the bar. He leaned against the far end of the bar, swirling a glass of something expensive. The dim light played across his jawline, sharp and clean as if it had been carved from glass. His eyelids were dark and predatory. He didn’t smile, nor did he look at anyone else; his gaze was solely focused on me. No one had ever looked at me with such intensity; it was unsettling and exciting.

He approached slowly and deliberately, his eyes still locked onto mine. He didn’t blink, and neither did I. At that moment, I felt an unexpected throbbing inside my panties. I was embarrassed by what was happening but had to face the truth—this stranger got me exactly where I wanted to be.

He came closer, his voice low, soft, and deliberate. "Celebrating something?"

"My future," I responded nervously, trying not to flinch under his gaze. "Or maybe… trying to forget it," I added, adopting a more relaxed posture.

He tilted his head, with a smirk. "Dangerous either way."

"I love Dangerous," I replied. His gaze sharpened on one side. "You have no idea."

We downed a few glasses. The room began to spin, but I forced myself to stay cool.

"You know, I love reading people," I tested him.

He leaned closer and murmured, "I don’t like being seen." With his hands placed on mine, he added, "People read what they want to see. They never look deep enough to see what’s broken."

I had never wanted to prove someone wrong so badly in my life. "Try me," I challenged. He took a sip of his drink, looking away as if he hadn’t heard me.

By 2 AM, he led me to the Wolfe's Hotel Penthouse. I didn't bother to read the sign, and I should have asked for his name or questioned the scars on his knuckles, but not tonight. I wasn’t curious; I just wanted to be led by someone else besides my father.

The elevator opened into a world dipped in midnight and gold. Everything in the room was elegant, just like him. I can only remember the details retrospectively because his presence filled the space and was overwhelming.

"You still haven’t told me your name," I whispered as I stepped off my heels.

"Names complicate things," he said, stepping forward. "Do you want this to be complicated?"

Our lips brushed, and the tension between us ignited. We were both breathing heavily; I could feel his heartbeat, and he could feel my pulse. His kiss wasn’t gentle the second time around; it was filled with hunger, his lips crashing against mine as if he tasted something that had been denied him for a long time.

I relaxed against him, my body surrendering to the pull. He kept his eyes fixed on mine while his hand explored my thighs with purpose, pushing the hem of my dress higher. He unzipped my dress and pulled the straps down. With a deliberate motion, he lifted me up, and my dress fell away. He took his time stepping back, his eyes roaming all over me as if he were memorizing my body. The hunger in his gaze made me tremble; I was so aroused, yet I had never felt so powerful.

"You’re trembling," he murmured softly.

"I’m not afraid," I lied with a shaky voice.

He took off his pants, closed the space between us. "You should be."

He led me to his bed and buried his face in my neck, sniffing it intensely. I dug my nails into his skin while he gently moved his finger towards my inner thigh, and he made a circular turn on my clit, which was as wet as a drowned rat.

Carefully, he ran his tongue towards my nipple in a circular motion. At this time, I completely surrendered because no one had ever touched me this way. It was as though he knew where I wanted to be touched and exactly how I wanted to be touched. I started moaning while he locked his eyes on mine.

I moved my hands towards his dick and grabbed a handful of it. The surrounding veins were killing me, and my hand felt like a baby grabbing its father's finger. My eyes were filled with lust.

He looked at me while I held his dick towards my pussy, and he entered throbbing slowly. It wasn't just physical-it was an emotional warfare, a collision of fire and restraint. He fucked me like a man trying to forget something but couldn't stop remembering.

I felt his pain, his loss, his anger, everything written on his face. With every thrust, every push and pull, he pressed his pain into me, and I took it willingly, offering something softer in return.

"I see your grief," I said. He kept thrusting, taking his eyes away from me. "I see your scars."

This time, he was more emotional, and he pushed harder, like he wanted me to stop talking. I kept my teary eyes gazing into his. I felt every bit of him, the anger, loneliness, and hatred that tormented his soul. It was like for that moment I was one with him.

He kept thrusting harder and harder. I arched into him, my hands tangled in his hair, and I was moaning. Our body moved in rhythm, a dance of ruin and redemption of a pleasure so raw that it burned.

I loved everything about this man; for the first time, I felt alive and free. My past and my future meant nothing to me at that moment. I forgot where I came from, I forgot Naomi, I forgot everyone and everything.

It's morning, and he was asleep, his arms heavy on me. My phone buzzed, 12 missed calls from Naomi. She was probably wondering where I'd been. I slipped out of bed, grabbed my dress, and then I noticed a letter on the nightstand.

It’s addressed to "Darian Wolfe." My heart skipped a beat. Wolfe? My father’s rival, I had not thought about the hotel the previous night.

The man whose family has been at war with the Reyes name for decades. I scanned the room, spotting a photo of Darian, younger, with a man I recognized but not clearly. I was nauseous. Did I just sleep with Darian Wolfe? My father’s enemy.

If my family finds out, it’ll be a scandal, a stain on the Reyes name that is bad for our business. My father built his empire on a solid reputation. Would this crumble because of me? I dressed quickly, my hands shaking.

The Reyes name is our power, our business, our everything. I can’t let one night ruin it. I left quickly back on the street. Naomi’s texts almost blew my phone up, but I ignored them. I needed to make up a story before I talked to her.

What if he knew who I was? What if it was all his plan? And that makes him dangerous. He could use this against us, against me. But his touches lingered—I was feeling something real, I was forgetting who I was. I shook it off.

He’s a Wolfe, my father’s enemy. There’s no room for weakness. I hailed a cab, and my hands were still trembling. I have to keep this secret, bury it deep. No one can know about this, not Naomi, not my father. I’ll avoid him, cut him out, and protect Reyes' name at all costs.

But as the cab pulled away, his face flashed in my mind—those eyes, that hunger, that pain. And a small, traitorous part of me wonders if I could truly let him go.