Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 88: Different Bad Wolf?

June POV

I walked into the room—mask in place, skin already buzzing with anticipation, thighs pressed tight like they knew exactly what was coming.

The door clicked shut behind me.

He was already there.

Bad Wolf.

Leaning against the wall like sin in human form, broad arms crossed, his mask shadowing those dark eyes I could never quite read but always felt in my bones. He was all stillness and tension, like a storm waiting for permission to break.

And break he did.

The moment the lock snapped into place, he moved.

Fast.

Ruthless.

His hand curled around my waist and yanked me forward, flush against his chest. Then his mouth was on me—no hesitation, no softness, no time for pleasantries. He kissed me like a man unhinged, like I owed him something he planned to take.

His mouth was heat and punishment, lips crushing mine with a hunger so sharp it bordered on fury. Teeth scraped. Tongues clashed. He kissed me like he wanted to erase the world—like my mouth was the only absolution he’d ever find.

Fuck.

My hands gripped his shirt, fingers clawing at the fabric, needing more. Wanting all. He growled low in his throat and spun us, pressing me hard against the wall, one leg between mine, thigh grinding where I was already soaked.

Every movement screamed control—his control. But underneath it, I felt the desperation. The need to feel, to escape, to burn.

God, I didn’t know who he was. But my body didn’t care.

He kissed like pain. Like punishment. Like I was the only thing standing between him and the edge of a cliff.

And I was so fucking ready to fall with him.

His tongue forced its way in, claiming mine, teeth dragging across my lower lip like punishment. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was possession. And I gave in instantly.

My back slammed against the door. freewēbnoveℓ.com

His hand came down hard on my ass, a sharp smack that made me gasp into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound with a dark growl. My fingers clawed into his shirt — gripping, needing — as he ground his hips into mine, already hard and thick and pressing into me like a warning.

No words. No pretenses.

Just heat.

Violent, dizzying heat.

He pulled back, just an inch, just enough to breathe against my lips.

"You kept me waiting."

I opened my mouth to answer, but he didn’t give me the chance. His hand slid up to my throat, just enough pressure to make me feel it.

"You think I like waiting?" he asked, voice gravel-wrapped and low, as his fingers flexed lightly over my windpipe. "You think I don’t notice when you show up already dripping?"

He dropped his other hand between my legs, cupping me through my lace thong — his palm flat, fingers possessive.

"I can smell it on you."

I whimpered.

He growled.

"Take your clothes off."

I moved to obey, trembling fingers fumbling with my dress. He didn’t help. He watched, eyes burning holes through me as I peeled off each layer under his scrutiny — mask still on, body bared.

"Leave the heels," he said.

Of course he did.

He walked around me slowly, dragging a fingertip over my shoulder blade, down the curve of my spine, across the swell of my ass. Every nerve in my body lit up like fire.

"Face the mirror. Hands on the glass."

The mirror wall gleamed in front of me, full-length and merciless. I moved into position, watching my own reflection — wild hair, flushed cheeks, lace mask still perfectly in place. My thighs pressed together, desperate for friction.

He stepped behind me, his body a wall of heat. I could feel the anger rolling off him like thunder.

Rough night?

Good.

I wanted it rough.

"You don’t speak unless I say," he told me, his voice like smoke curling down my spine. "You don’t move unless I say."

Then his hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head back until my neck arched.

"You understand?"

"Yes," I whispered.

He spanked me again — harder.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl."

My heart stuttered.

He turned me back around, his hands gripping my hips so tight I knew there’d be bruises. I didn’t care. I wanted them. Proof that I was here. Proof that someone wanted me.

Bad Wolf looked at me like a man on the edge. And then he shoved me down to my knees.

"Open."

I did.

He freed himself, thick, hard, already leaking. He fed himself into my mouth with both hands buried in my hair, holding me there, breathing ragged.

"Fucking hell," he hissed. "That mouth."

He started slow, but it didn’t last. His hips snapped forward, and I choked. Tears blurred my vision. He was ruthless. Unrelenting. Angry. And I drank it in. The punishment. The need. All of it.

I moaned around him.

He pulled out with a pop and yanked me up to my feet. Spun me again.

He shoved my thighs apart with his boot, then dropped to his knees behind me. A moment later, I felt his mouth — hot and unrelenting — on the back of my thigh, then higher. His teeth grazed the curve of my ass before his tongue slid up my folds from behind.

I gasped, hands smacking against the mirror to steady myself as he licked me like a man dying of thirst — rough, messy, possessive.

"Already soaked," he murmured between licks. "Did your little boyfriend leave you like this?"

I whimpered.

He smirked against my skin. "I can smell his failure on you."

He stood abruptly and reached between us. I heard the sound of his belt, the slide of a zipper. Then his cock — thick, hard, unforgiving — pressed between my legs.

No warning.

He shoved in.

I screamed — loud, feral — both pain and pleasure searing through me as he filled me completely. One hand gripped my hip, the other tangled in my hair again, pulling back until my spine arched like a bow.

He started moving. Rough. Fast. His hips slapping my ass as he pounded into me like he was trying to fuck the rage out of himself.

He fucked me like he hated me.

Like every thrust was an exorcism.

I stared into the mirror, watching him take me, watching us, my face flushed, mouth open in moans I couldn’t swallow.

"That’s it," he grunted. "Take it. Take all of it."

I did.

Every inch.

Every punishing thrust.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room. His cock pistoned into me with relentless force, and I shattered — over and over — eyes rolling back, nails scraping down the mirror.

He spanked me. Once. Twice. Again. I cried out, arching into him, desperate for more.

And still he didn’t stop.

"You’re mine when you’re in here," he growled against my neck, teeth sinking into my shoulder hard enough to bruise. "You don’t walk out of this room with anyone else’s cock in you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I panted.

He pulled out.

I almost sobbed.

But he spun me around and lifted me, slamming my back against the mirror. I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, and he thrust back in, this time with a groan so guttural it made my toes curl.

He slammed into me. Over and over. My body rocked, my orgasm building fast.

Pinned my wrists above my head. Drove back into me, deep and brutal. His mask inches from mine.

He kissed me again — brutal, devouring.

Then his hand came between us, fingers rubbing my clit in hard circles as he fucked me into the mirror like it owed him something.

"You want to come again?" he rasped.

"Yes, please—"

"You come when I say."

His fingers stopped.

I almost cried.

But then he dropped me onto the padded bench and flipped me onto my back, pushing my knees to my chest. He entered me again, deeper this time, his hips slamming against mine in a ruthless rhythm.

I was gone.

Utterly destroyed.

And he knew it.

"Look at me," he ordered.

I did.

His eyes — behind the mask — locked on mine. Dark. Hungry.

"Now come."

I exploded.

My entire body convulsed, toes curling, throat raw from screaming. He fucked me through it, harder, faster, until he roared and spilled inside me, grinding deep and burying himself with one final thrust that left me gasping.

Silence fell.

I was limp.

Boneless.

Wrecked.

He didn’t speak for a while. Just stroked my thighs slowly, tracing the marks he left like a signature. Then he leaned down and kissed me again — not as rough this time. Still firm. Still his.

Then he whispered:

"Don’t let him touch you again."

And just like that, he was gone.

I lay there on the bench, trembling, covered in sweat and slick and bruises, staring up at the ceiling.

My mask was still on.

But everything else had been stripped bare.

I have fucked Bad Wolf for many times but this time, It was like it was him and the same time not him. But Fuck I needed every fucking second of it.

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