Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 108: Wicked

JUNE POV

I needed release.

Desperately. Urgently. Now.

Justin had left me shaking in that seat, trembling and soaked, teetering right at the edge of oblivion—and then he’d switched it all off. Just like that. Like some evil sex god playing puppet master and dangling my orgasm by a thread.

If I didn’t do something soon, I was going to lose my mind. So, I did what any woman pushed beyond her limits would do.

I lied.

I raised my hand halfway through the next slide, voice calm, face neutral, only slightly pink from suppressed insanity. "Excuse me, I need the restroom."

The professor barely glanced my way and nodded.

I bolted. Not running—but fast. Focused. Purposeful.

I didn’t head to the regular bathroom by the main hallway—too busy, too visible. I went upstairs, two floors up, to the forgotten girls’ restroom tucked between old labs and storage closets. No one liked it. Too many stairs. Too out of the way.

Perfect.

The moment I stepped inside, I let out a shaky breath. Finally. Finally a moment to deal with the pulsing ache still twisting between my legs and the v-balls that moved with every breath I took. I reached toward the stall door.

And froze.

The door clicked shut behind me.

What the hell—

I spun around—and there he was.

Justin.

Inside the ladies’ room.

Leaning back against the door he’d just locked, smug as ever, like he hadn’t just committed two crimes: invading privacy and looking entirely too hot doing it.

"You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?" he asked, voice low and amused.

My breath caught. "You followed me?"

He gave a small shrug. "You really thought I’d let you sneak away and come without me?"

I opened my mouth—possibly to yell, possibly to protest—but nothing came out. I was too flustered. Too turned on. Too caught.

His eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, and then he stepped forward.

Step by step until my back hit the cold tile wall.

He caged me in with a hand on either side of my head. "You’re soaked, aren’t you?"

"Justin—"

"Still clenching around those toys?" he whispered, eyes dark. "Still aching for me?"

I swallowed hard. My body answered for me, hips already pressing forward before I could stop them.

His gaze flicked to my mouth. "Say it."

I didn’t want to.

But I did.

"I need to come," I whispered, voice wrecked.

His eyes flashed. "Good."

He leaned in, kissing the corner of my mouth gently—too gently—and whispered against my skin, "Let’s fix that."

********

My heart was pounding so loud, I was sure he could hear it. The door behind him was locked. His body towered over mine, heat radiating from every inch of him, and the worst part?

I didn’t want to run.

I wanted him closer.

His lips ghosted over the shell of my ear, a wicked promise in every breath. "You were going to touch yourself without me, weren’t you?"

"I didn’t—" I swallowed hard, pulse fluttering. "I needed—"

"Oh, I know what you needed," he cut in, voice like molten silk. "But you don’t get to come without me. That’s the deal, baby."

His hands didn’t touch me yet. They hovered—taunting. His presence alone was undoing me. The vibrator still sat quiet inside me, but the echo of earlier pulses still haunted my nerves, twitching in memory. The v-balls rolled gently every time I shifted, and now, trapped between a cold wall and a furnace of a man, I could barely breathe.

"You like sneaking around?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "You like the thrill of almost getting caught?"

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My body was giving me away anyway—chest rising and falling too fast, thighs trembling, mouth slightly parted, craving.

He leaned in further, nose brushing mine, and whispered, "You’re a little rebel when you’re desperate, huh?"

His hand finally moved. frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

It slid down my side, warm and firm, finding the hem of my blouse and slipping under it. His palm pressed flat against my stomach, then moved lower, thumb grazing the waistband of my skirt.

I gasped as he hooked a finger in it, tugging lightly. "Still wearing what I picked?"

"You know I am."

He smiled like I’d just handed him the universe.

"Then you’re going to let me finish what I started," he said softly.

His hand slipped around, over the curve of my hip, and he pulled me into him, grinding my body into his. I felt the tension in his jeans, hard and unforgiving against my stomach.

"I thought I told you," I breathed, my voice cracking with a mix of defiance and need, "you don’t get to come if I don’t."

He grinned, slow and dangerous. "Baby, we’re past negotiations."

And then?

He kissed me.

Not gently. Not sweetly.

It was fire and friction and tangled breath, and I kissed him back like he was the only thing keeping me from combusting. His hands roamed, finally—bold now. One on my waist, the other finding the swell of my ass through the flare of my skirt.

He groaned low against my mouth. "You like that."

I nodded against his lips, dizzy.

"Good girl."

Before I could respond, he grabbed my thigh and lifted, pinning me to the wall with practiced ease. The cold tiles hit my back as his body pressed into mine, solid and sure. I clung to his shoulders, breath hitching as his hand disappeared beneath my skirt again.

And then—he pressed the remote.

The vibrator inside me buzzed to life.

I gasped, head falling back with a thunk against the wall.

"You’re cruel," I whimpered.

He kissed the underside of my jaw. "And you love it."

*******

With one leg hooked around his waist, my back pressed against the tiled wall and his body pinning me in place, the vibrator buzzing deep inside me, I was losing it. Completely.

I grinded against him instinctively, chasing friction, chasing sanity—chasing that elusive release he kept dangling in front of me like a wicked reward. But even with my hips moving, even with the hot, hard pressure of his body against mine, I couldn’t reach the edge. Not fully. The tease was maddening.

My brain was a haze of need. I barely noticed the shift—the way his hand moved between us, the way he adjusted something lower. But I felt it. The distinct, electric jolt of skin-to-skin. And then—oh god—his cock, hot and heavy, sliding between my folds, rubbing against me instead of in me. Coating himself with my slickness.

He didn’t push in.

Just slid.

Up. Down. Back. Forth.

Friction but no entry. Tease but no climax.

A cry caught in my throat—half plea, half protest. My thighs trembled, and my fingers clawed uselessly at his shoulders, his back, needing more. But he didn’t relent. Didn’t give in.

And then?

He dropped my leg from his waist.

Spun me around with effortless control.

Bent me forward over the counter beside the sink, my palms bracing against the cold porcelain, my skirt bunched around my waist. My breath hitched. The buzzing still hummed inside me, and the damn v-balls rolled with every heartbeat, every twitch.

He reached behind me and, with careful slowness, slid the plug from my body.

I let out a gasp—half relief, half loss.

But the balls stayed.

Then I felt his hand, slick with my arousal, spreading the wetness lower. Downward. To the place I knew—knew—he was about to claim.

I stiffened, body already trembling from the earlier torment, my legs unstable and my thoughts a jumble.

"Justin..." I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for.

Mercy? More? A moment to breathe?

He leaned over me, his chest pressing into my back, lips brushing my ear.

"Relax, baby," he murmured, voice sin incarnate. "Let me take care of you."

*******

He didn’t stop.

As my chest pressed against the cold sink counter, my body already trembling from the relentless buzzing and the slick heat pulsing between my legs, Justin moved with a controlled precision that made me unravel even further.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I felt him—his fingers between my thighs, reaching inside me again, and this time... he pulled the v-balls out slowly.

They slid free with a wet sound that made my cheeks burn. I was soaked, and he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, the low groan that rumbled from his chest told me he liked it—how wet I was, how wrecked I’d become.

"Look at you," he muttered darkly behind me, admiring the way the glistening beads caught the light. "Fucking perfect."

I shuddered when I heard them drop somewhere on the counter, slick and warm. Then I felt him again—his body lining up behind mine. A different kind of pressure now. One I knew instantly.

His cock.

He replaced the emptiness inside me with himself.

Thick. Hot. Unmoving.

He just stayed there.

Not thrusting. Not moving.

Just letting me feel him—deep, filling, and still.

I gasped, gripping the counter harder.

And then, while I was adjusting to the fullness, his hand moved lower again.

Lower than expected.

His finger brushed over the sensitive spot he’d already teased earlier, the one that still throbbed from the earlier plug. My entire body jerked in response.

"J-Justin—"

His name fell from my lips, half warning, half desperate plea.

But he didn’t stop.

One finger, slick with my own arousal, pressed in slow, testing. And I cried out—not from pain, but from the overwhelming wave of sensation. The fullness. The tension. The overstimulation.

"I want you to feel everything," he whispered, mouth grazing the shell of my ear. "Every inch. Every stroke. Every time you clench around me."

I could barely breathe. My walls fluttered around him as my body trembled, caught in a storm of sensation that blurred the line between pain and pleasure.

I wasn’t just going to come—I was going to explode.

The air was thick with heat, my skin slick with sweat, and his breath hot on my neck.

I was already gone before he even started to move.

But when he did—when he pulled back just slightly, hips flexing to grind deeper, his fingers still teasing, still pushing—

My entire world blurred.

The last coherent thought I had before my vision went white was: He’s going to ruin me.

And then everything broke.

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