Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 27: Not Fantasizing

Justin's POV:

In the kitchen's harsh fluorescent light, every detail felt magnified—the damp heat of our bodies mingling with the cool, clinical ambiance of the room. I could taste the salt on her skin, and every labored breath she took filled the space between us with an intensity that bordered on feverish urgency.

I drove into her with a relentless force, the hard impact echoing off the tiled walls. Her cry, raw and unfiltered, only spurred me on further. Each thrust was driven by a desperate need to claim her completely, to drown out all the memories and nightmares that haunted both of us. I felt her body arch into mine, surrendering to the brutal, unyielding rhythm that had overtaken us.

My hand roamed down, gripping her waist as if to hold on to her with every ounce of strength I possessed. The sensation of her soft skin, the way her legs tightened around me, sent shockwaves of desire through my veins. In that cramped kitchen, with the hum of the refrigerator and the clatter of distant footsteps as our only witnesses, every nerve in my body was alight with raw, consuming hunger.

Her moans grew louder with each forceful, passionate movement—a symphony of need that drowned out the mundane sounds of the world outside. I could feel her heat, her vulnerability, and her hidden strength all at once. The overwhelming mix of desire and urgency made time blur into a haze of electrifying sensation.

I didn't slow down. I couldn't. With every movement, every sharp intake of breath from her, I knew I was etching this moment into her memory—erasing the pain, the nightmares, and everything else that had ever haunted her. In that moment, it was just us—a wild, unrestrained collision of bodies and broken pasts, desperate to find solace in raw, relentless passion.

And as the kitchen faded away into nothing but the sound of our mingled breaths and the relentless, pounding rhythm between us, I realized that tonight, nothing else mattered. All that mattered was the fierce, intoxicating intensity of now.

I didn't give her any time to recover from that fierce explosion of desire. With her still trembling beneath me, I shifted our position abruptly. I pulled her off the counter and guided her to the edge, forcing her to lie across it. The cold surface of the countertop contrasted with the heat of our skin as I positioned myself between her spread legs.

I drove into her with raw, unrelenting force, every thrust punctuating the air with the sound of our desperation. Her moans filled the room, mingling with the clatter of our movements as I alternated between hard, rapid thrusts and slow, deliberate strokes. I wasn't content to simply stay in one position; I wanted to break every barrier, to claim her in every possible way.

With a rough tug, I flipped her over so that she was straddling me. Her eyes, wild and defiant, met mine as she began riding me with a ferocity that made my own pulse race. The roles shifted—now she controlled the pace, her hips moving with a mix of urgency and restraint. I grasped her wrists, pinning them momentarily to assert my dominance before letting her take the lead again.

Every change in position only intensified the heat between us. I could feel the pressure building, my body responding to her every movement as I adjusted my rhythm to match hers. Her soft gasps and the sharp sound of our skin against the cool countertop created a symphony of raw need and unfiltered passion.

I reached around to grasp her thighs, pulling her even closer, my thrusts growing rougher, more insistent, until it felt like we were melting into one another. The kitchen's harsh fluorescent light bore witness to our wild abandon, every detail etched into my mind—the way she arched against me, the raw, guttural sounds that escaped her, and the way her body answered mine with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

There were no words—only the pounding rhythm of our combined need, the relentless movement that left us both gasping for breath. Every thrust, every shift, was a declaration of ownership, a fierce attempt to erase every memory of pain and loss. In that moment, nothing existed outside of the brutal, beautiful chaos we created together.

And as we moved together, lost in the fervor of our passion, I knew that no matter what demons haunted us, for these precious minutes, all that mattered was the raw, unyielding intensity of our desire.

I couldn't hold back any longer. With June still trembling from our earlier encounter, I lifted her effortlessly from the kitchen and carried her into my room. But before we reached the bed.

I pressed her against the door, the solid wood cool against her heated skin, and she instinctively spread her legs, inviting me closer. I didn't waste a single second. With raw, unrestrained force, I drove into her, every thrust a fierce reminder that I wasn't here to play games—I was here to own her completely.

I wanted to make sure that tonight, nothing would remind her of the nightmares or the past that haunted her. I needed to be the one to erase every bitter memory. With rough insistence, I pressed my lips to hers—a deep, searing kiss that told her I was taking full command of this moment.

Her moans, sharp and urgent, filled the room as I alternated between hard, rapid thrusts and deliberate, punishing strokes. I could feel her body respond, trembling in the grip of both pleasure and pain.

I wanted every part of her exposed, every hidden detail revealed in the harsh light of the room. Her breasts, now unguarded, pressed against my chest, her nipples hard and sensitive as if waiting for my touch.

Without a pause, I trailed kisses along her collarbone, my tongue teasing, tasting every nuance of her flavor. She moaned softly, and that sound ignited something fierce inside me—a raw, possessive need. I could feel her body shiver beneath my every move, the tension between us growing almost palpable.

As I pounded into her, I reached up and raked my hands roughly over her exposed breasts, squeezing and fondling them until I felt the heat intensify in both of us.

Not stopping there, I pulled her back from the door and bent her over the bed, positioning her so that every part of me could claim her again.

I pressed my hands against her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh as I moved behind her. My body responded instantly—hard and unyielding—as I positioned myself behind her, my desire burning hot and relentless. I leaned down to whisper something raw and possessive in her ear, but the sound was lost amid her soft, desperate sighs.

Then, without a moment's hesitation, I plunged into her with a force that took both of us by surprise. The rough, unrelenting rhythm that followed was more than just passion—it was a declaration. Every thrust was driven by the need to erase every trace of the nightmares that haunted her, to replace every memory of pain with the overwhelming intensity of now. I drove into her hard and fast, the impact echoing off the walls of the room and making her cry out in both pleasure and a hint of protest.

I spanked her lightly on her ass, each slap sending a shudder of mixed delight and frustration through her. The combination of rough passion and the slight sting of discipline only made her moans grow louder, more desperate.

Every movement was unyielding, every thrust a declaration of ownership. I could feel the tension in the room—her shuddering body, her wild, ragged breaths, the sound of our skin against the sheets—as I continued my relentless assault. I moved with a ferocity that was both brutal and deeply consuming, determined to erase every trace of her past torment with each forceful collision of our bodies.

Her eyes, half-lidded with desire and the haze of lust, locked onto mine in a silent challenge. In that charged moment, as I claimed every inch of her, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the overwhelming need—the primal, raw connection that bound us together in that furious dance.

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She bucked against me, her body arching, as if trying to find an escape from the intensity. But I held her in place, my hands clenching her hips, anchoring her to me. My pace was relentless—each thrust deep and powerful, leaving little time for hesitation. I could see the strain in her eyes, the way her breath came in ragged gasps as I pushed her to the edge and then pulled her back. Every movement, every collision of flesh was raw, unfiltered, and filled with a dangerous intensity.

At one point, she cried out my name—a sound so raw and genuine it sent a jolt of electricity through me. I could tell she was on the verge of surrendering completely to the moment.

I wasn't content with a single position. I shifted seamlessly on to bed, our bodies a tangled mess of urgency and need. I pulled her against me on the bed, my hands roaming freely—gripping her thighs, squeezing her ass, and caressing her soft skin with rough determination. Every thrust was punctuated by the sound of our mingled breaths and the occasional sharp cry that spurred me on further.

One of her legs draped over my shoulder, a perfect, seductive invitation that I was more than eager to answer. I could see the wild desperation in her eyes—a mixture of lust, need, and an unspoken plea for release. It was as if all the nightmares, all the memories of pain, were being drowned out by the overwhelming intensity of this moment.

I moved my body in sync with hers, a wild, relentless rhythm that defied logic. Every thrust , every rough, unyielding movement, was an attempt to etch this moment into both of us, to overwrite the past with something so brutal, so raw, that nothing else could ever compare. I could feel her body tighten around me, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as I drove into her with a force that left little room for doubt.

The sounds in the room—the slap of skin against skin, the muffled groans, the low hum of our combined breaths—faded into the background as the intensity between us grew. I could taste her desire, feel the subtle shifts in her body as she fought to keep pace with me, as she tried to surrender entirely to the overwhelming sensation.

In that moment, I wasn't just trying to please her—I was trying to imprint this memory into her, to make sure that she would never forget that I was the one who silenced her nightmares, who drowned out the voices in her head with our raw, untamed passion.

I continued to move, relentless and determined, my every action driven by the need to both punish and save her from the ghosts of her past. With each rough, unyielding motion, I carved out a space for us—a moment where only our fierce desire existed, where every touch was a promise that she belonged to me, and that nothing would ever be the same again.

Time seemed to stretch out, every second an eternity of raw, unfiltered passion. I could feel her clenching, her body trembling under the relentless rhythm of our union. And then, in a final, explosive moment, I pulled back just slightly, my eyes locking with hers as I slowed down for a fraction of a beat—teasing her, heightening the tension even further.

She gasped, her lips parting in anticipation, her eyes shining with a desperate need that nearly made me choke on my own desire. I leaned in, my hand firm on her thigh, and resumed with an intensity that left no doubt: every thrust, every raw movement, was aimed at erasing the past, drowning out the voices that haunted her, and claiming her as mine.

In that dimly lit bedroom, with the cold echo of the wall and the soft rustle of sheets as our only witnesses, we became lost in a wild, unending storm of lust and desire. I could hear her cries mix with mine—a cacophony of raw need and the promise that, in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Her body moved with mine as we reached a fevered pitch—a tangled, raw dance of two souls desperate to forget everything but the here and now. I could feel her trembling as I pulled her back toward me, our breaths mingling in the charged air, the intensity of our connection burning brighter than the harsh fluorescent lights above.

In that final crescendo, I could only think of one thing: if I could make her forget the demons that tormented her, if I could drown out the whispers of pain and loss, then maybe—just maybe—this rough, unyielding passion would be enough. Enough to give her a moment of solace, a temporary escape from a world that had always been too cruel.

And as I took one last, powerful thrust, I pressed my lips to hers in a kiss that sealed our fate—a kiss that promised that no matter how many nightmares returned, tonight, at least, we would be the ones who controlled the darkness.

I held her close as the intensity finally peaked, every part of my body screaming in silent victory. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that remained was the fierce, consuming heat of our desire—a desire so raw, so unrelenting, that it threatened to erase everything else in its wake.