Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 105: Naughty Boyfriend

JUSTIN POV

I came back with the bag swinging from my hand and a grin I couldn’t wipe off my face if I tried. The moment I opened the door, the scent of coffee hit me—rich, warm, and familiar. My eyes found her immediately. She was leaning over the kitchen counter, cup in hand, her hips tilted ever so slightly as she sipped. That damn black skirt flared just enough to tease, and I swear she did it on purpose. Or maybe I was just already too far gone with all the thoughts I’d had on the way back here.

She didn’t hear me at first, too lost in whatever memory she was replaying in that beautiful head of hers—maybe the kitchen counter escapade from yesterday, judging by the look on her face. Her eyes flicked toward the door just as I stepped inside, and her lips parted, soft and surprised.

"Bought you something," I said, unable to hide the glint of mischief in my voice. The way her eyes narrowed? Fucking perfect. I lived for that fire.

She didn’t even get a chance to say a word before I crossed the room, cupped her jaw, and kissed her like I hadn’t kissed her in years. Like I didn’t just fuck her senseless a few hours ago. Because with June, I could never get enough. Every time felt like the first time—intoxicating, urgent, addictive.

She pulled away, slightly dazed, and reached for the small carrier bag. The second she peeked inside and saw what I’d picked out, she screamed and dropped it like it bit her.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. "Come on, it ain’t that scary."

Her response was instant: "Nope, Justin. Not doing it."

"Stupid boyfriend bought sexual toys!" she accused, full-on scandalized and blushing.

"Come on, baby, pleaseee," I teased, dragging it out, knowing damn well I’d wear her down.

"No. No way," she repeated firmly, arms crossed.

I tilted my head, giving her the look—the one I knew melted every ounce of resolve she had. "Okay, I’ll do anything you want after this. Anything."

I saw the light flicker in her eyes. The wheels turning. "Anything?" she echoed, suspicious but intrigued. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

I nodded, grinning. Hook. Line. Sinker.

"Now come here," I said, retrieving the bag and letting my voice dip into that low, dangerous register I knew got to her. Her breath hitched—yeah, I noticed—and she slowly walked over like a moth to flame.

I bent her over the kitchen counter in one smooth motion, flipping the back of her skirt up to expose that thong I picked for her earlier. God, she was beautiful. Her ass was perfection, round and firm and just begging to be touched. So I did—palming, kneading, watching the way her body responded to every squeeze.

The thong? Worth every moment of my morning planning.

I slid it aside with one finger and watched as her folds glistened, still sensitive. My hand slipped between her thighs, and she gasped, already wet. Perfect. So fucking perfect.

I dipped into the bag and pulled out the first toy—one of the smaller vibrators. Her breath hitched again when she saw it, and she twisted her head back to look at me.

"Justin..."

"Shhh, baby," I whispered, rubbing some of her slickness upward to massage her tight, unused hole. "Just relax."

She stiffened slightly, but I worked slow, easing her open with gentle fingers, watching every flicker of emotion dance across her face—shock, heat, nervous excitement.

And then, when I felt her give, I slipped the vibrator in with care, pushing it until it nestled snug and perfect.

She moaned, breath trembling. "Fuck."

I wasn’t done.

The V-balls came next—slippery, cool, smooth. She sucked in a breath as I guided them inside her, one at a time, her walls clenching beautifully around them. She whimpered, moaned, her forehead dropping to the counter as she tried to stay upright.

I stood, gently pulling her thong back in place, trapping the toys inside her, then smoothed down her skirt like I hadn’t just ruined her.

"Come," I said calmly, like we were about to take a walk in the park. "We need to go. We’re already late."

She blinked at me, eyes glassy, brain fogged.

It wasn’t until she took her first step that the magic happened—the V-balls shifted deep inside her, teasing her already overstimulated body. She squeaked, legs wobbling.

"Fuck, I can’t do this," she muttered under her breath.

But I was already at the door, smirking. "Yes, you can."

And I was going to enjoy every second of watching her try.

JUNE POV

I was trying—desperately—to walk like nothing was wrong. Like I didn’t have a traitorous vibrator inside my ass and weighted balls shifting deep in my core with every damn step I took. My thighs clenched on instinct, my breath caught somewhere between a moan and a curse, but I held my head high.

I was not going to give Justin the satisfaction of watching me crumble.

He walked ahead like a smug devil in denim and confidence, throwing a glance over his shoulder every now and then, clearly enjoying the way I was trying to pretend I wasn’t seconds away from either falling apart or begging him to take me right there on the pavement.

And that smirk on his lips? Infuriating.

We made it to his sports car—the one I hadn’t seen before, because apparently, my boyfriend collected cars like sins—and just as I stepped in, he reached past me and...

Buzzed it on.

The vibrator inside me came to life with a sudden jolt that had me gasping, my hand flying to the car door for balance. The shock, the pressure, the way the vibrating plug stirred the weighted balls in my core—it was too much.

A traitorous moan slipped out of me.

"Careful," Justin murmured, voice soft and maddeningly amused. "Didn’t want you to fall."

He was loving this. That bastard.

I clenched my jaw and dropped into the passenger seat, trying to arrange my skirt in a way that didn’t betray my trembling legs. Every shift, every breath was an exercise in control. My panties were useless—completely soaked. My body was betraying me with every beat.

He settled into the driver’s seat, calm as ever, one hand on the wheel, the other brushing my thigh.

"Still holding on?" he asked casually, turning the knob on the remote just a notch higher. I gasped, arched forward slightly, and gripped the seat.

"I hate you," I muttered under my breath.

He chuckled darkly. "No, baby," he said, voice dipped in sin. "You love this."

And I did.

That was the worst part.

I was soaking wet, overstimulated, and we hadn’t even left the driveway yet.

The buzzing was deep inside me, sending vibrations that echoed through the rest of the toys like a wicked little symphony. My mouth opened in a silent gasp, back arching involuntarily against the car seat. My knees threatened to clamp shut, and I gripped the doorframe, my nails digging into the smooth metal.

He chuckled softly, closed the door, to the driver’s seat, like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

"Still want to act tough, baby?" he teased, the engine purring to life beneath us. And the second it did, the vibrations from the car itself joined in—subtle, rhythmic, rumbling through the seat and directly into me. Every bump in the road, every gear shift, sent another pulse crashing through my nerves.

I clenched my fists in my lap, lips pressed into a thin line, trying to hold onto the tiniest shred of composure.

But Justin wasn’t done.

He reached for the control again and—mercy above—switched it off.

Sweet, blissful silence. My body sighed in relief, muscles relaxing just slightly, breath returning to something resembling normal.

Until he turned it back on again, mid-traffic.

The sudden return of stimulation had me biting back a moan so sharp, I thought I might choke on it. My legs squeezed shut. My head thudded gently against the window.

Justin didn’t look at me, just drove casually, one hand on the wheel, the other toying with the controls in his lap like it wasn’t the biggest power play of all time.

"Doing okay over there?" he asked, voice full of that maddening calm.

"I hate you," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"You love me," he grinned. "And your body loves this."

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because he was right.

The car rumbled again beneath me, and I squirmed in the seat, thighs pressing tighter together, hips shifting restlessly. Heat bloomed across my cheeks, down my neck, and all the way to my toes. My eyes fluttered closed for a moment, drowning in the delicious torment.

The vibration surged again. I clenched the seat, biting back a moan as the damn toy inside me buzzed to life without warning, sending sparks down my spine and into the soles of my feet. I shot Justin a glare, but he didn’t even look at me—just smirked at the road like he wasn’t committing psychological warfare on my sanity.

Fine.

If this was war, I wasn’t going down quietly.

I crossed my legs, shifting slowly until my knee just happened to brush his thigh. He didn’t flinch, but his smirk twitched.

I let a few seconds pass before I rested my hand on his leg. Casually. Innocently.

"Everything okay, baby?" he asked, mocking me with my own moan from earlier.

"Mmhmm," I hummed, my fingers brushing across the fabric of his pants. Not enough to be obvious. Not yet. Just a whisper of touch right over where I knew he was hiding that smug cock of his.

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