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Fake Dating The Bad Boy

Chapter 18 / 136

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Chapter 18 - Bad Wolf

Fake Dating The Bad Boy

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June's POV:

The moment I stepped into the room, he was there—waiting. Tall, dark, unreadable behind his mask. My heart slammed against my ribs, not from fear but from something far more dangerous.

Need.

I didn't say anything. We never did.

Instead, I moved toward him, tilting my chin up in silent permission. His fingers brushed my jaw, a single moment of restraint before he grabbed me and

turned me around

, shoving me hard against the cold wall.

Yes.

This was what I needed.

Not soft. Not careful. Not sweet.

His hands were rough as they gripped my hips, pushing me flush against the unyielding surface. My breath hitched when I felt him press against me, his heat searing through the layers between us. I arched instinctively, craving more, craving everything.

My bra was gone in a flash, discarded like it was nothing. His mouth was everywhere—biting, sucking,

branding

. A sharp gasp tore from my lips as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of my shoulder before he soothed it with his tongue.

The wall was hard against my cheek, grounding me as his hands roamed lower, dragging my skirt up roughly. He didn't ask. He never did. Because he

knew

—knew what I came for, what I needed.

One sharp tug, and my underwear was gone.

My body burned, my skin electric under his touch. I pressed harder against the wall, desperate to erase the filth, to replace it with something else—something

real

.

His fingers dug into my hips as he positioned himself behind me. The anticipation was unbearable, my body strung tight, aching.

Then, without warning, he

thrust

—deep, brutal, raw.

A strangled cry left my lips, my nails scraping against the wall as he set a punishing pace, each thrust forcing the air from my lungs. There was no gentleness, no hesitation. Just

heat

, just

power

, just the kind of ruthless domination I craved.

The filth was gone. The memories erased.

There was only

this

.

The relentless rhythm, the pressure building, the way he gripped me like he owned me—

like he was the only thing that existed in my world right now.

And maybe, for these fleeting moments, he

was

.

He didn't slow down—not even for a second.

With a firm grip, he pulled out almost completely, leaving me trembling, then

slammed

back into me with a force that made my knees buckle. My palms flattened against the cold surface, trying to steady myself, but he wasn't having it.

Strong hands grabbed my waist, spinning me around in one swift, effortless motion. My back hit the wall, my chest heaving, eyes wild as I stared up at him. The mask concealed his face, but I didn't need to see it. I

felt

him—his dominance, his need, his silent understanding of why I was here.

He gripped my thigh and lifted it, hooking it around his waist before

plunging

back inside me, deeper this time, forcing a gasp from my throat. The angle was different now—

intense

, raw, perfectly devastating.

My head fell back against the wall as he

owned

me, each thrust sending shockwaves through my body, unraveling everything that had tainted my skin before. The filth was gone, erased by the brutal, overwhelming pleasure of

this

.

He didn't let up. His hands were everywhere—gripping, claiming, branding. His teeth found my neck, biting down just hard enough to blur the lines between pain and pleasure, making me

feel

something other than the ghosts in my head.

I clawed at his back, my nails dragging down on by his hair, needing something to hold onto, to

ground

me as he fucked me deeper, harder, completely.

The room was filled with our ragged breaths, the sharp sound of our bodies colliding, the desperate, aching rhythm that neither of us tried to control.

I was close.

Too

close.

And he knew it.

He

always

knew.

His grip tightened, his pace relentless, and then, with one last brutal thrust—

Everything

shattered

.

The tension snapped, the pleasure crashed into me like a tidal wave, dragging me under, drowning out

everything

. My legs trembled, my vision blurred, my mind went blank.

His hands gripped my thighs—tight, possessive—before

lifting

me off the ground like I weighed nothing. My breath hitched as my back

slammed

against the wall, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat burning between us. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking him in,

trapping

him against me.

But he wasn't the one trapped.

I was.

He didn't hesitate. Didn't give me a second to catch my breath before

thrusting

back into me, deeper than before. My head hit the wall, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure

ripped

through me.

I gasped—

no, I screamed

—but the music outside drowned out everything. It was just us. Just this.

Just the brutal rhythm of his body taking what I offered and giving me exactly what I needed.

His grip on my thighs tightened, bruising, grounding. He held me up effortlessly,

fucking

into me like he had all the time in the world, like he was determined to make sure I

never

thought of anything else but

him

.

"Forget," his voice was low, almost a growl, sending a shiver down my spine.

And I did.

I forgot

everything

. The filthy hands that had tainted my skin. The monster who haunted my nights. The pain. The shame. The

past.

The only thing that existed was the way he

owned

me, how his cock filled me, stretched me, drove me to the edge of pleasure

again

and

again

—relentless, unforgiving, addicting.

My body tensed, toes curling as my second orgasm

slammed

into me, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my very

soul

.

But he

wasn't done.

Not even close.

He pulled back, letting me feel

every inch

of him sliding out, before

slamming

back in so hard I nearly saw stars. I

clung

to him, legs tightening around his waist, arms wrapping around his neck, desperate, helpless against the way he

wrecked

me.

His pace was brutal, his thrusts deep and merciless, like he was

chasing

something—like he wanted to bury himself so deep I'd

never

forget who made me feel this way.

"Mine," he murmured, voice rough, possessive, filled with something

dark

.

I moaned—

no, I sobbed

—because I needed this.

I needed him.

And when he finally

shattered

inside me, his growl vibrating against my throat, his body shaking with release—

I knew I'd never be the same.

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