Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 102: Awarding Good Girlfriend

JUNE – POV

I left him in bed, still catching his breath, eyes half-lidded with that sleepy, post-orgasm look that made my heart flutter more than it should’ve.

I didn’t expect anything else.

I’d only meant to sneak off and take a long, hot shower to shake off the way my legs still trembled. I needed time to breathe, to clear my head... to pretend I wasn’t dangerously close to falling in love with the man who made me come undone with just his voice.

The water was already running down my shoulders, warm and comforting, when I started rinsing the shampoo from my hair. I sighed, letting the water drum against my scalp, eyes closed, body relaxing into the steam.

Until I heard the door open.

I froze. For a second, I thought maybe I imagined it — but then I heard it click shut, soft and slow, followed by the unmistakable sound of bare feet padding against tile.

I turned my head, blinking through water and steam.

A second later, I felt it — warm hands on my waist. A body pressing into mine from behind. Solid. Familiar.

Him.

Justin.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just slid his arms around me, holding me gently, like he’d done this a thousand times before. Like it was natural. Like it was us.

His lips brushed my shoulder, soft and unhurried. Then again, lower. And again.

"I figured," he murmured against my skin, "if you get to wake me up like that, it’s only fair I return the favor."

I laughed, breathless and flushed, leaning back into his chest. "That wasn’t a favor. That was me being selfish."

He hummed, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Good. Be selfish more often."

His hands were slow, gliding over my stomach, my hips, up to my ribs. Nothing rushed. No greed. Just a patient worship that made every nerve in my body come alive.

"You’re so damn beautiful," he whispered, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

My breath hitched. I didn’t want to care about words like that. I wasn’t supposed to. But the way he said it, soft and reverent, it hit deeper than I wanted to admit.

His hands found my breasts, cupping them gently, his thumbs brushing lazy circles around my nipples until they hardened under his touch. He wasn’t in a hurry. He was savoring. Exploring. Learning me like I was a song he didn’t want to stop playing.

I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, water trickling down both our bodies.

"You always this gentle?" I asked, trying to sound teasing, but my voice came out shaky.

His lips curved into a smile against my neck. "Only when I like the person."

Fuck.

My chest squeezed. I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Not when his hands were sliding lower now, following the trail of water down my stomach, parting my thighs with practiced ease.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered. "You’ve been on my mind for too long to not give you everything."

Then his fingers were on me — soft strokes at first, teasing me through the folds, circling my clit without pressure, just enough to make me want. I gasped, hips twitching.

"Relax," he breathed, fingers spreading me gently, stroking me slow, like he had all morning. "Let me."

He dipped one finger inside me, then another, sliding deep and curling just right. My knees nearly buckled, but he held me tight, his other arm strong around my waist. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"Oh my God," I moaned, back arching.

The water cascaded over us like a curtain, like we were in our own world. His fingers moved in and out, building heat, coaxing moans out of me with every slow pump. His lips never stopped — kissing my neck, my shoulder, the back of my ear.

"You’re so wet," he murmured. "So tight. I love how you open up for me."

I gripped his forearm, grounding myself as he added pressure to my clit with his thumb while his fingers still worked inside me.

"Justin—" I whimpered, body trembling.

"I know," he whispered. "I got you."

He turned me in his arms suddenly, so I was facing him, and kissed me. Hard. Wet. Deep. The kind of kiss that stripped you bare and left you breathless. I felt his hardness pressing into my stomach, heavy and pulsing with need, but he wasn’t rushing.

He lifted me — just like that — and pinned me gently to the tiled wall. The heat of the water now hitting his back as my legs wrapped around his waist.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked against my lips, rubbing his cock against my soaked entrance.

I nodded, eyes dazed, breath ragged. "Yes. God, yes."

He entered me slowly, inch by inch, making me feel every fucking second of it. We both moaned — bodies locking into each other like puzzle pieces.

"You feel like heaven," he growled, his forehead pressed to mine.

Then he started to move.

Slow at first. Deep thrusts that made my toes curl and my head fall back. He kissed my throat, his hands under my ass, holding me up effortlessly as he rocked into me.

And then — as I clenched around him, as my moans grew louder — the rhythm changed. Harder. Rougher. Our bodies slapping together in the steam. My back against the cold tile, his heat crashing into me again and again.

He fucked me like he wanted to brand himself into me.

"Mine," he groaned. "Say it."

"You— you’re mine," I gasped, crying out as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over.

"Louder."

"You’re mine, Justin!"

He growled like an animal and slammed into me so hard I thought I’d fall apart. My orgasm hit seconds later — sudden and violent, tearing through my body as I screamed into his shoulder, legs shaking, nails dragging down his back.

I was still reeling — legs shaking, chest heaving, vision white-hot with the aftershocks of my orgasm. My body felt like it had turned to liquid in his arms, but he held me steady, strong, steady hands wrapped around me like he was anchoring me back to earth.

But Justin... Justin wasn’t done.

Not even close.

I barely had a second to breathe before he put me down, spun me around, pinning my front against the cold tile wall. I gasped, palms slapping against the wet ceramic, nipples brushing the slick surface and instantly hardening again from the chill.

"What—Justin—?"

He didn’t answer with words.

His hand gripped my hips, yanking them back just enough to tilt my ass out toward him, and I felt it—his cock, still thick, still hard, pressing into the slick heat between my thighs.

He hadn’t come yet.

And now I was about to pay for it.

His palm slid up my spine, pressing between my shoulder blades until I arched, completely open and vulnerable to him. Then both hands found my breasts — rough, greedy palms molding over the soft flesh, squeezing, kneading, pulling.

"Fuck," I choked, my forehead resting against the wall, legs shaking again. "Justin..."

"You didn’t think I’d let you get away with just one, did you?" he growled behind me, low and dangerous and dripping with hunger.

And then he thrust into me — in one, long, hard slide that made me scream his name.

There was no patience now.

No slow rhythm.

He set a brutal pace from the start, hips snapping against my ass, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

His fingers twisted my nipples as he pounded into me from behind, and I was a fucking mess — moaning, panting, clawing at the wall for support.

"You feel that?" he grunted, leaning in to bite the back of my shoulder. "You feel how tight you still are for me? How soaked you are? You want more, don’t you?"

"Yes," I cried, my voice breaking as he slammed into me again. "Yes, fuck—don’t stop!"

One hand stayed on my breast, gripping it like he owned it, while the other slid down between my legs, finding my clit again. He rubbed rough, tight circles that sent sparks dancing down my spine and up to my skull.

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

My body was his now — wrecked, exposed, shaking apart under every ruthless thrust.

His hips crashed into my ass, again and again, his cock driving so deep I thought I might break. He wasn’t just fucking me.

He was claiming me.

"Tell me who’s fucking you like this," he growled, teeth grazing my neck.

"You are!" I sobbed, back arching, thighs burning. "You, Justin — only you!"

"That’s fucking right."

He slammed into me harder — deeper — each thrust stealing more of my voice, leaving me trembling and gasping and right there again, right on the edge of another orgasm even though I’d barely come down from the last one.

And then—

I snapped.

My knees almost buckled. My entire body spasmed as another orgasm slammed into me, harder than the first, clenching around him so tight I felt him groan and lose it right behind me.

He cursed loudly, thrusts faltering, and then I felt him spill into me with a long, guttural moan. His hands stayed on my breasts, still squeezing as he emptied every last drop inside me.

We stayed like that for a moment — bodies still joined, his chest pressed to my back, our breaths echoing off the tile like we’d just run a marathon.

And maybe we had.

My legs felt like Jell-O.

My entire body buzzed.

Justin leaned in, kissing the nape of my neck, then letting his lips trail across my shoulder, warm and possessive and maddeningly tender for someone who’d just wrecked me.

"Still think it was selfish?" he whispered.

I smiled through the haze of pleasure and exhaustion.

"Maybe. But if that’s what selfish looks like... I think I need to be a lot more greedy."

He chuckled, still inside me, still hardening slightly again — and fuck, was he actually ready for round three?

"Careful what you wish for, baby," he murmured. "I’m not done proving it."

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