Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 103: Double Trouble

June POV

By the time we were done, I could barely stand.

My legs were literal jelly — useless, shaking messes that could not support the weight of my own body, let alone the aftershocks of what just happened in that damn shower. So yeah, Justin had to help me out. Arms around me, towel slung low on his hips, water droplets still clinging to his skin and trailing down like a goddamn movie scene. I was half delirious and one-hundred percent wrecked, and he was still walking around like a Greek statue.

He dried me off with a tenderness that made my chest ache — like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour rearranging my internal organs — then carried me bridal style back to the bedroom. I flopped on the bed like a soggy noodle, limbs splayed, too dazed to care about anything other than not dying.

Then I watched — still very much naked, mind you — as he casually strolled to my closet flipping through hangers like he had every right to be there. I watched him, sprawled in the sheets, my body still recovering.

I blinked. "What... are you doing?"

He didn’t even glance back. "Picking out your outfit for today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

He pulled out a black skirt — flared, short, but not scandalously so — and a crisp white blouse. He turned to me with that wicked smirk, the kind that never meant anything good and yet made my stomach do somersaults.

"I want you to wear this today."

That smile. That tone.

Yep. He was up to something.

But the outfit wasn’t bad. Actually, it was cute. So I just blinked at him and nodded, suspicious but too curious to resist.

Then he turned, looked around, and asked, "Where are your undergarments?"

Excuse me, what now?

He tilted his head like I was the one being weird. "Your panties. Bras. Where are they?"

Was he seriously going to pick those too?

"Nope," I said, holding up a warning hand. "No way am I letting you—"

But I didn’t even get to finish my mental protest. He was already moving, yanking open drawers like he owned the place.

"Oh my god, Justin!" I shouted, trying to sit up, only to flop back down like a weak kitten. "It’s not proper for you to rummage through a girl’s underwear drawer!"

He just grinned. "It’s proper if the said girl is my girl."

And then he pulled out a black thong, holding it up like he’d just won the lottery.

"Wear this for me," he said, eyes gleaming with mischief.

I swear I nearly combusted on the spot.

I was embarrassed. Flustered. Shocked. Flust-ocked. Is that a word? It is now. My brain could not compute.

"Come on, baby," he said, voice dropping to that deep, sinful register that made my spine tingle. "I’ll make sure it’s worth your while."

My eyes narrowed. "You’re planning something."

"That obvious?" he teased.

I snatched the damn thing from his hand and stuffed it behind my back, glaring at him.

"Fine. But you owe me."

He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. "Don’t worry. I plan on paying you back. In full."

Then he turned right back to the drawer — this time plucking out a black lace bra like he’d done this a thousand times. gods. This guy.

He laid the whole outfit on the bed beside me like he was proud of himself. And I... well, I was still catching my breath, caught somewhere between wanting to punch him and wanting to jump him again.

He leaned down, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "My clothes are still on your kitchen floor. I’m going to grab them, head back to my place, shower properly, get changed, then come back and pick you up for class."

I blinked. "You’re... coming back for me?"

He gave me a gentle smile, something soft and honest in his expression that made me momentarily forget how recently he’d been destroying my soul in the shower.

"Of course. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, silly girl."

My stomach flipped. Stupid nickname. Stupid voice. Stupid... butterflies.

"Now get dressed," he added, already walking toward the door. "And make sure you eat something before I get back. You’ll need your strength."

I buried my face in the sheets to scream, because what else could I even do?

He closed the door behind him, and I lay there blinking at the ceiling.

Okay. That just happened.

I was leaning over the kitchen counter, sipping coffee, my mind shamelessly replaying yesterday’s events — especially everything that happened right here on this counter. The memory alone had my cheeks heating up. My eyes were glued to the front door — it was an open kitchen setup — waiting for my ridiculously hot, chronically mischievous boyfriend.

He was late. Thirty minutes late, to be exact. And I was already dressed, wondering what the hell he was up to.

Just then, the door creaked open, and in walked my sinfully dressed boyfriend, looking fresh and hot, his trademark smirk tugging at his lips — the kind that promised trouble. He smelled incredible, that intoxicating mix of cologne and something uniquely him, and he was holding a small shopping bag.

"Brought you something," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I narrowed mine in suspicion, which only made him chuckle as he sauntered over to the kitchen. Before I could say a word, he pulled me into a kiss — deep and toe-curling, like it was the first time all over again. I barely recovered when I reached for the bag, peeking inside.

And screamed.

The bag dropped from my hand like it burned.

"Justin!" I gasped, horrified.

He was chuckling like I’d just handed him his favorite dessert. "Come on, it’s not that scary."

"Nope. Nope! Justin, I’m not doing it. Absolutely not!"

I knew he was planning something naughty — that glint in his eye was unmistakable. But sex toys? Before class?

"You don’t want to try it at least once?" he teased, grinning.

I folded my arms. "No way."

He pouted like a kicked puppy. "Please, baby? Just once?"

"I said no—"

"I’ll do anything you want after this," he bargained, and that stopped me cold.

I raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

He nodded eagerly, not even pretending to hide the devilish excitement dancing in his eyes.

Before I could overthink it, he reached for the bag again and gave me that wicked grin that spelled my doom. "Now come here."

And stupidly, I did.

He bent me over the kitchen counter with a smooth, practiced motion, like he’d been fantasizing about this all morning. My heart was hammering. He lifted my skirt — and that’s when I realized why he’d picked it. The flare style gave easy access, and with the thong he’d chosen, my ass was on full display.

The damn tease had planned this perfectly.

He hummed in satisfaction behind me. His large hands began kneading my ass — squeezing, spreading, teasing — while I gripped the counter and tried to steady my breathing. In minutes, I was moaning like he’d cast a spell on me.

He pushed aside the thin strip of fabric barely covering me and started toying with my folds, already slick and throbbing. I bit my lip hard.

"Fuck... Justin... I don’t think I can handle another—"

His fingers dipped lower, slicking my juices further down. That’s when I felt him begin to circle my other hole.

My breath caught. "Justin—"

"Shhh, baby," he whispered. His voice was sinfully calm, like he was lulling me into surrender. "Just relax."

He massaged slowly, deliberately, his touch both gentle and commanding. My thighs trembled. My mind was a blur of heat and curiosity and tension.

He was up to something — something wicked. And the worst part?

I didn’t want him to stop.

His fingers kept teasing places that made my knees weak, but nothing—nothing—prepared me for what came next.

I gasped, tensing instinctively as I felt something cool and slick press against a place I wasn’t expecting. My breath hitched. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"Justin—"

"Shhh," he whispered against my ear, his voice low and wicked. "Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you."

My body trembled at his tone, a mix of control and affection that always made me melt. His free hand slid over my lower back, grounding me, stroking softly as he eased the small toy past the tight resistance, letting my body adjust slowly.

It was overwhelming—the sensation, the fullness, the way it made everything else sharper. I gripped the counter like a lifeline, biting my lip to suppress a moan.

"Good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss between my shoulder blades.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I felt his fingers slide between my folds, dipping in, making sure I was more than ready. His touch was gentle at first, slow and calculated. I thought I might collapse just from that—until I felt the next toy, warm and slick, teasing my entrance.

"Justin—wait—what is that—"

"You’ll see," he said, clearly amused at how breathless I sounded. "Just a little something to keep you company today."

And before I could argue, he pushed the weighted balls inside me with practiced ease, his fingers gentle but firm. I gasped again, my core fluttering around them as the sensation of being filled doubled—every nerve lit up, every breath shaky.

My legs nearly buckled.

He slid my thong delicately back into place, like he’d done nothing at all. Adjusted my skirt so it swished around my thighs with deceptive innocence.

Then he stepped back, smoothing down his shirt and slinging the now-empty bag over his shoulder.

"Come on," he said, utterly composed, "we’re already late."

I blinked, dumbfounded. "You made us late!"

He smirked, grabbing my hand and pulling me gently toward the door. "And I regret nothing."

As I took my first step, the weighted balls shifted deep inside me, pressing in all the right—wrong—ways. I let out a choked gasp, nearly stumbling.

Justin looked back, all innocence. "Something wrong?"

"I hate you."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me closer. "You love me. And you’re going to think about me all through class."

God help me, I already was.

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