Page 40 of Deranged Imposter

Mikah shoves his phone to my face, smirking smugly as I read the results, along with the feedback from his professor.

I swallow nervously, twiddling my fingers on his phone’s back to divert my attention from his very swelling, prideful chest.

I know our deal, and I was too confident when I took him up on it.

Considering it was rare for students, especially law students, and their rigorous learning materials, I assumed Mikah would cave under pressure and get a measly passing grade.

He does not do mediocre work, but circumstances aren’t as kind to him as his lucky stars.

So, I shook hands with the bet. If I win, I get to eat his jelly stick. The fruity gelatin, nothisjelly stick. If he wins, and he promised he would bring back only an A grade, Mikah left me stewing in curiosity.

“Okay,” I whisper, breathless.

“Okay?” he echoes as a warm breeze flaps the collar of his yukata.

The beautiful inn that Mikah booked for us is huge, furnished with sturdy tatami flooring and sliding shoji doors. An outdoor onsen to soak in with a tray of alcohol, and to finish the relaxing experience, the inn has soft yukatas to wear.

I’m supposed to be respectful, and I try to be. However, when the flap of his collar comes loose and shows off the ink-covered buff chest, I suddenly hope the bet’s reward is something the walls can cover my shame from.

“Just be nice about it,” I mumble, feeling exposed under his intrusive gaze as he takes the phone from me while closing the shoji door.

Enclosed in the largest room, two futons lay neatly beside each other on the floor as the faintest hollow sound of water tipping the bamboo tube slice my shuddered breath in half.

“I like being mean.” He hums, cupping my flushed cheek with a calloused palm.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, yet the gleam in his wickedly gleeful eyes answers my question.

“Let me show you,” he purrs with a breath from my trembling hips.

He swoops in for a light kiss, seemingly to test the waters, as I let out a desperate whimper against his lips. It’s barely visible, the little uplift in the corners, but it’s there to bear witness to the cruel taunting of his kisses smudging his love on mine.

He pecks my lips with an earnest sequence like he’s flipping a book with clumsy fingers until we’re on the same page.We are, my eyes convey pleadingly, as my lips chase his smirking ones.

“I love you,” he says as he gently puts me on the futon.

Mikah’s love is the white on angel feathers, pure and innocent but so powerful. They flutter and dust a storm of comfort, folding around me to silence the seething sins dipping in black ink and rewrite our fated future with one of his precious feathers.

“I love you,” I whisper into the column of his throat.

I love him with an overbearing obsession. It escapes through my nails, grazing the lines of his muscles. It embeds poison on my tongue as I curl his with mine, and thick possessiveness hits like a sinister drug, tempting me to drench him in molasses and make him high off my love.

He’s mine.

“Always been,” he agrees and drags his tongue down my neck.

He litters the skin with bruising nips, laughing quietly as I spread my thighs wider around his hips to be closer to him. My nipples ache beneath the soft fabric, gravity slipping the yukata off my shoulders, and his lips mar the new skin.

His eyes hold mine as he unties the sash from my waist. It pools to the sides just as the yukata glides away, exposing my flushed nipples to him. He palms my breast, not letting my shyness get a head start, and then comes the harsh pinch to the pebbled bud.

It’s moments like this I regret not having my voice begging for more. Juices wet my panties, staining them as my hips buck to hover over the heat exuding from the tent in his yukata.

Mikah is good at knowing what I want through passing glances and frantic whimpers. He grips my tit so hard I moan from the tingly pain, and a sadistic part of me hopes the ache turns into his possessive bruise.

“It’s alright, Isa,” he coos, flicking my nipple during his journey down to my ribs. “I’ll give you everything.”

Then he neglects the other tit because he’s very, very mean with a mischievous grin.

“One can’t be too greedy,” he chides while snapping the elastic of my black panties.

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