Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 101: Good GirlFriend

June POV

The room smelled like him. Like warmth, spice, and something sinfully addictive.

My legs were still tangled around the crumpled kitchen towel he’d laid under me — a failed attempt at being considerate before he lost all control and made me see stars. My body ached in that delicious way, the kind that reminded me he’d touched every inch of me with reverence and hunger, and now all I wanted was to curl up in his arms and never let him go.

The clock on the oven blinked 10:02 PM, blue and annoyingly real. I felt his hand trail slowly across my thigh, fingers lazy and warm as he stood between my legs — freshly dressed in his shirt, hair a mess, looking unfairly good for someone who had just ruined me on a counter.

"I should head back," he murmured, voice low, almost reluctant.

I blinked up at him, heart tugging in a weird soft way I hadn’t prepared for. I should have told him okay, should have nodded, cracked a joke, something chill and normal. But instead, my chest ached a little.

"Oh," I said quietly. Brilliant.

He tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to memorize something. "Unless you want me to stay," he added.

I wanted to say yes. Gods, I really did. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to stay because I was falling for him or because he made the silence in my head a little easier to bear. And that terrified me.

Still, I reached for his hand and curled my fingers around his.

"You really want to go back to your cold, empty apartment when there’s a girl here who makes great pillow forts and has an emergency chocolate stash under her bed?" I tried to keep it light, teasing, but my voice cracked just a bit at the end.

His lips quirked. "That does sound tempting."

"Stay," I whispered before I could overthink it. "Just tonight."

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to my forehead so gentle it nearly undid me, and nodded.

"I was hoping you’d say that."

And just like that, I had the stupidest grin on my face. Wrapped in his hoodie, I followed him to my bedroom, already mentally assigning him a side of the bed... and maybe a permanent drawer too.

I was taking this too fast.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself — like if I repeated it enough times, I’d believe it. But could I really say that after everything we’d already done? After the way he touched me like I was both fire and salvation, the way he looked at me like I wasn’t just a girl who haunted his mind but someone who mattered?

Even back when we were pretending, when everything between us was supposed to be fake, he still saw parts of me no one else did. Hell, he knew things I never meant for anyone to know — things I thought I’d buried so deep they’d never rise again. And yet... he stayed. He chose to stay. That had to mean something. Right?

This wasn’t some high school crush. This wasn’t just lust. We had passed that line long ago — crossed it, burned the bridge behind us, and maybe even danced in the ashes. And I couldn’t deny the way his presence quieted the voices in my head, the chaos that usually ruled my thoughts settling when he was near.

Maybe it was fast.

But maybe fast didn’t mean wrong.

Because truth was, we were already too far gone to pretend we were just "taking it slow." Too many kisses, too many stares that lasted too long, too many nights spent thinking of one another in places we didn’t dare say out loud.

And maybe... maybe falling for someone wasn’t about perfect timing. Maybe it was about who stood there when your walls were down, who didn’t flinch when your demons bared their teeth.

And Justin? He stayed.

Even after knowing mine.

He stayed.

That simple truth echoed in my chest louder than it should’ve. Because he didn’t have to. He could’ve kissed me goodbye, told me he’d call, and walked out the door like every part of him hadn’t just claimed me.

But instead, he stayed.

We didn’t say much after dinner — there wasn’t really a need. The silence between us felt... full. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just full. Of emotions we hadn’t yet dared to name, of questions we were still too raw to ask, of a closeness that went beyond skin on skin.

Now, hours later, the room was dark except for the faint glow from the streetlamp outside, and he was wrapped around me like I was something worth holding onto. His leg was slung over mine, arm around my waist, chest pressed against my back. We were both still naked, still tangled, our bodies warm and messy from everything we’d shared.

His heartbeat thudded steady against my spine. Safe. Solid. Real.

I let my fingers trace idle patterns on his forearm. I could feel his breath on my neck — soft and even. He was asleep. Peaceful again, just like earlier, when I caught him holding my legs like I was fragile glass. He wasn’t the Justin who barked orders or flirted with danger. Not now. Now he was just... mine.

And for once, I let myself be his.

Maybe this wouldn’t last forever. Maybe we’d still crash and burn — we were reckless like that. But right now, in this quiet room, with his body molded into mine and our limbs locked like a secret pact, I didn’t care what tomorrow brought.

Because for tonight, he stayed.

And that was enough.

JUSTIN – POV

I woke up with June naked in my arms, soft skin pressed against mine, warm and snug like she belonged there. But that wasn’t what dragged me out of sleep.

It was her hand.

Wrapped around my cock.

Slow strokes. Gentle. Curious. Wicked.

My eyes fluttered open and landed on her face, lit by the pale morning light. She was biting her lip, looking down at her hand working me with the concentration of someone who had no fucking idea the kind of power she was wielding.

Her fingers tightened just a little, twisting at the top like she’d learned how I liked it. And when she noticed I was awake, she didn’t stop — just looked up at me through her lashes, lips curved in a shy little smile like she wasn’t currently making my cock twitch in her grip.

"Morning," she whispered.

Jesus.

Her voice was raspy with sleep, and fuck if that didn’t add fuel to the fire already burning in my veins. I could barely speak. All I could do was groan low in my chest as her hand kept gliding up and down my length, slow and lazy, like she had all the time in the world to play with me.

"You trying to kill me?" I asked, voice rough and half-choked.

She gave a soft laugh, fingers teasing along the underside of my shaft. "You were already hard when I woke up."

"Yeah, well—" I sucked in a breath as she thumbed over the head, smearing the precum that had already gathered there. "You were naked and wrapped around me like a fucking gift. Of course I was hard."

She giggled — actually giggled — but her hand never stopped. If anything, she picked up the pace, her small fist pumping me in smooth, wet strokes. Her eyes stayed on mine the whole time, and that look — innocent but knowing — did something to me I couldn’t explain.

I growled, low and dangerous, hips thrusting up into her palm. "Keep going, baby. Just like that."

Her cheeks flushed deeper, but goddamn, she obeyed. Her rhythm got faster, tighter, wrist twisting just right at the top, dragging moans out of me with every pull. My hand slid to her waist, gripping her warm skin, needing to touch her while she kept me at the edge of losing control.

I watched her — this beautiful, maddening woman — jerking me off in her bed like she’d been doing it forever. Her hand fit me perfectly, her movements growing bolder, messier, the slick sounds obscene in the quiet morning.

I was close.

So fucking close.

"God—June," I breathed, chest heaving. "You keep doing that and I’m gonna come all over that pretty hand."

She leaned in close, lips brushing my ear, voice soft and devilish.

"Good."

And that was it.

I lost it — hips bucking off the bed as my orgasm tore through me like a goddamn hurricane. I came hard, thick pulses spilling over her fist, onto her wrist, warm and wet between us. My eyes slammed shut, a loud groan ripping from my throat as the pleasure crashed through every nerve ending in my body.

She didn’t stop right away. Kept stroking me through it, milking every last drop with lazy, loving strokes, even as I twitched in her hand.

When I opened my eyes again, she was watching me — wide-eyed, slightly flushed, clearly proud of herself.

I reached for her, hand on the back of her neck, and pulled her down into a messy, deep kiss. She hummed against my mouth, smiling into it, and I swear I felt myself harden again.

"Your hands are dangerous," I murmured against her lips.

"You’re welcome," she said, grinning.

Updated from fr𝒆ewebnov𝒆l.(c)om