Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 38: Getting Naughty (ii)

Justin POV:

Call me crazy. Or a love-sick puppy. I didn’t care anymore. I just couldn’t get her out of my fucking head.

So yeah — when it was early enough not to be called stalking, I went to pick her up.

The voices in my head? They were calling me names, mocking me, asking what the hell I thought I was doing. But I ignored them, for once. I’d fucked another girl at the club trying to forget June, trying to quiet everything. And yeah, it was good. But not good enough — not like her. Not like pretty cat who somehow manages to silence all the noise in my head, even if just for a night. I think is because her features were more strictly familiar to that of june or maybe it’s her

When she walked out of her house — and yeah, that place screamed wealth — I waved her over. She looked surprised at first, probably didn’t expect to see me there. But then came that sweet smile, soft and honest, and something in my chest fucking squeezed.

She slid into the car, and right away I noticed it. That everyday energy she carries? Gone. The usual girl-power pep she wraps herself in like armor? Slipping. She was trying to keep the act going, but it was falling apart in the cracks between her thoughts. And I had no idea what was tearing her up like that.

I didn’t ask. I just drove.

When we got to school, I parked the car, turned to her — and couldn’t help myself.

I pulled her in, hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her. Hard. Devouring. Claiming.

And maybe that makes me selfish, or insane, or whatever the hell else my voices whisper in the dark — but I didn’t care.

Because for the first time since yesterday, the noise in my head stopped. Everything went quiet.

It’s fucking weird how she does that to me. Always.

Okay, call me weird—or insane. At least I know I’m the latter.

But is it really that weird? That Army’s words got under my skin so bad? That whether they were true or not, I wanted June so ruined by me that every time someone touched her, she’d think of me? That no one else would ever be able to tune her body like I do?

I missed her. So fucking much.

Missed the way she smelled. The way she looked at me. The way she touched me like I wasn’t broken.

So yeah. I pulled her behind the bleachers.

And she didn’t resist.

She came with me like she needed it too. Like I was a light at the end of her long, twisted tunnel.

Only when I’m with her do the voices shut the hell up.

Only with her... do I feel quiet.

And yeah—we ended up making out like maniacs.

Intense. Raw. Desperate.

Fuck, the things she does to me.

In class, I noticed it again—that look on her face. The way she slipped into that dark place, like her mind had wandered somewhere she didn’t want to be.

I hated it.

I tried to get her to talk, to tell me what the hell was wrong, but she just brushed it off. Acted like I was imagining things. Like I didn’t see it—the dread, the fear, the haunted silence behind her eyes.

So yeah, I did the only thing I could think of.

I distracted her.

And that’s why, right now, she’s got her hand wrapped around my dick under the table—soft, warm, slow. Fucking perfect.

And it’s taking everything in me not to thrust into her palm like a fucking lunatic.

Jesus. This girl.

I, on the other hand, had already slipped a finger inside her—warm, wet, ready.

God, I love how she’s always like this for me. No hesitation. No waiting. Just mine.

I curled my finger, slow and deep.

She gasped. Tried to stifle it. Bit her lip hard enough I almost stopped.

Almost.

Her thighs tensed around my hand, and I could feel her struggling to keep it together. We were in a full-ass classroom, people everywhere, and here I was knuckles-deep inside her, pretending like I gave a damn about macroeconomics.

She shot me a glare—half warning, half begging.

I leaned in just enough to whisper in her ear.

"Shhh... You don’t want them to hear, do you?"

Her breath caught. Her nails dug into my thigh.

And I knew right then—I was going to push her to the edge.

Right here.

Right now.

It was thrilling—watching her squirm beside me, trying so hard to keep her composure while I slowly thrust my finger in and out of her. Her face had flushed deep red, her jaw tight, eyes unfocused as she stared straight ahead, pretending to care about the droning voice at the front of the room.

She clenched her thighs, trying to trap my hand, slow me down.

Didn’t work.

If anything, it only spurred me on.

I crooked my finger just right and felt her jerk slightly, her breath catching in her throat.

God, she was trying so hard not to make a sound.

My lips brushed her ear again, barely a whisper:

"Still pretending nothing’s wrong, baby?"

She let out the softest sound—half moan, half whimper—and it shot straight through me.

This wasn’t just sex. This was control. This was escape. This was ours.

And I wasn’t stopping until I broke her right here. Quietly. Completely.

Apparently, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Because somehow—somehow—she managed to slip her hand past the waistband of my briefs and pull me out. Yeah, damn right I was hard for her. Only her.

Her fingers wrapped around me in slow, deliberate strokes that made me pause mid-thrust inside her—because, damn it.

Her smug little smirk said she knew exactly what she was doing.

That soft, sinful hand moved with lazy confidence, dragging every ounce of restraint out of me.

I shifted in my seat, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the front just like hers—pretending to be paying attention while my body burned in her grip.

Two can play, sweetheart.

But fuck... her hand. That rhythm. That wicked glint in her eye when I twitched in her palm.

Yeah, she wanted a war?

She was getting one.

Then her finger circled the head of my cock—slow, teasing, deliberate.

Spreading the precum like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Fuck.

I had to bite back a groan, my teeth digging into the inside of my cheek.

She knew.She fucking knew how to use that hand—how to drive me to the edge without saying a word.Each stroke, each swirl of her fingertip around my tip, was a silent challenge. A silent promise.

My thighs tensed. My breathing hitched.

If this was her way of getting back at me for starting this in class, it was working.God, it was working too well.

One more second and I was going to lose it—control, the game, all of it.But I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction just yet.

I shot her a side glance, my voice low, rough in her ear.

"Keep that up and class won’t be the only thing you’ll be sore from."

She didn’t stop.Didn’t even flinch.

Her fingers wrapped firmer around me, her strokes lazy, confident. She was smiling—that smug little smile she knew would ruin me.

Alright, princess.You wanna play?

Two can fucking play.

She smirked.

The kind of smirk that said she knew she had me.

And maybe she did—for a moment.

But two could play dirty.

I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my voice a low growl.

"You want a war, baby? You’ll get one."

I slid my chair even closer, like I was just shifting to get comfortable—but my hand dipped further under her dress.

One finger wasn’t enough anymore.

Without warning, I slipped a second finger inside her.

Slow. Deep.

Her breath caught.Her legs clamped around my wrist.But I wasn’t stopping now.mile.

I angled my hand, curling just right, right where I knew she needed it.

Her legs jerked.

She gripped the desk like it might anchor her.

My fingers moved in a slow, rhythmic thrust.

Purposeful. Wicked.

"Eyes on the professor," I whispered, voice husky.

She tried.

God, she tried to focus.

But her breathing was shallow now. Her thighs trembling. Her body betraying every lie her face tried to tell.

I curled them—slow and deep—pressing into that spot I knew made her see stars.Her hand paused. She tried so hard to keep stroking me, but her rhythm faltered. freёnovelkiss.com

I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear.

"Don’t stop now," I murmured, my voice wicked and low. "You wanted to play dirty, right?"

Then I thrust my fingers again—deeper, harder—drawing that soft, muffled gasp I lived for. Her hand squeezed me in response, almost involuntarily.

She was falling apart right there in the middle of class.Flushed cheeks. Shaky breath. That glassy look in her eyes that was only ever for me.

I fucking loved it.I lived for it.

And I didn’t stop.

Not even when her hand faltered on me, tightening unconsciously around my cock as another wave of pleasure overtook her.

Not even when her lip was caught between her teeth, trying so hard not to make a sound.

Because this was mine.

She was mine.

My fingers moved faster, her hand sped up in retaliation.

A war in silence.

A symphony under the surface.

And when her hips started to roll—desperate, instinctive—I bit back a groan of my own.

God, I was so close.

But not yet.Not until she broke first.

Not until I won.