Page 49 of F*ckboys

"Maybe," I admit, my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of using someone else to get back at Aksel both excites and terrifies me. It's a dangerous path to go down, but I can't help myself. "You up for it?"

"Definitely," he says, finishing his drink and slamming the glass down on the counter. "Let's get out of here."

As we leave the bar together, I can't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. If Aksel wants to play games, then so can I. And tonight, I've found myself exactly what I need.

The dimly lit hotel room is a far cry from the opulence of Aksel's penthouse that I’ve seen featured in several annoyingly eye roll-worthy magazine articles about the ‘eligible bachelor’s net worth’ and his 'tryst pad', but it suits my current mood perfectly. The nameless stranger wastes no time in pinning me against the wall, his rough hands tearing at my clothes as he smashes his lips to mine, his tongue slipping through to explore my own.

"Tell me what you want," he growls into my ear, and I can't help but think of how Aksel would say those same words. But this isn't Aksel, it's just a random guy who's going to give me exactly what I need tonight.

"I want you to fuck me hard," I demand, desperation and anger fueling me. "Make me forget everything."

"Your wish is my command," he smirks, pushing me onto the bed and climbing on top of me. He lines himself up and slams himself into my pussy, his fingers digging into my hips as he thrusts inside me, causing a mix of pain and pleasure to wash over my body. This is not tender, slow lovemaking by any means. It's primal, raw, and exactly what I've been craving.

As the hot stranger continues to pound into me, my thoughts keep drifting back to Aksel. The way he touched me, kissed me,made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. I hate that I can't get him out of my head, even now. It's a stark contrast with the way this man is dragging himself in and out of me. I don't need tenderness when I'm fucking, and often I don't want it, including now. But he's making me feel interchangeable, like a hole to stick himself into.

"Harder," I demand, my voice cracking, determined to get what I need out of this empty interaction. The stranger complies, his massive calloused hands spanking me on the side of my hips with such force that I can already feel the red welts forming. It's painful, but cathartic—every hit feels like a release from the anger and resentment I've been holding onto.

"You like that, huh?" he asks, his breath hot against my neck. "You're a dirty girl, aren't you? I could tell by the way you were looking at me in the bar."

"Shut up and keep going," I snap, not wanting to hear his voice. But as much as I try to focus on the physical sensations, my thoughts refuse to cooperate.

His roughness only increases, and I find myself struggling to keep up with him, which is rare for me. His grip on my wrists becomes almost painful, and as his groans turn into roars, I realize that I've lost control of the situation. Panic sets in as I struggle to free myself from his grasp, fear clouding my judgment. "Take my giant cock, you stupid slut. You're a dumb fucking cunt just like the rest of them!" He growls, his tone feral, and he sinks his teeth into my neck.

"Stop," I say, wriggling my neck and managing to dislodge his teeth from my flesh. "Don't bite me. And let go of my wrists. I've had enough."

"You'll have had enough when I say you've had enough, bitch!" His eyes flash with anger and he tightens his grip on my wrists. They're stinging under his clamp-like grasp.

I wriggle and squirm in an attempt to find a weak spot. I manage to bend my knees high up near my waist and place them against his hips for leverage.

"Let go!" I gasp, finally managing to shove him off me with my hands and feet. He looks momentarily stunned, but I don't give him a chance to recover. In a flash, I shove him down on the ground, grab one of the silk ties from my purse and bind his wrists to the bedposts.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?" he splutters, trying to break free of his restraints. But I've learned a thing or two from Grave about how to tie a proper knot in the course of our work, and, regardless of his massive stature, there's no way he's escaping without help.

"Consider this payback, you fucking creep," I say coldly, pulling on my clothes and leaving him lying there naked and helpless. On the door, I pin a note for housekeeping: 'You probably want to call 911 before you go in there. But there's an abuser of women inside.' I don't want him to hurt anyone else, and nobody deserves to walk in on that in the course of their job.

As I stride down the hallway, adrenaline pumping through my veins, I can't help but feel both a twisted sense of satisfaction and a pang of regret. Aksel may have hurt me, but tonight perhaps I acted too hastily to try and take back some of the power I perceived he'd stolen. Maybe there's a totally reasonable explanation why he didn't answer my call, and I just put myself in danger… but to prove what to whom, exactly?

As I step out into the cold night air, my body shuddering from a mix of excitement and the lingering sensation of the stranger's rough hands on me, I can't help but feel I might have put myself in a needlessly risky situation that thankfully I was able to get myself out of. It would be much nicer to have Aksel dominate methan a random nameless stranger who could turn violent. I knew nothing about the guy and he was basically twice my size, after all, and was talking about revenge.

God knows I could have just dodged a misogynistic serial killer. I know I wouldn't need to worry about that with Aksel. Maybe I do have a little kernel of trust in him buried somewhere deep inside.

Chapter 25

Aksel

My heart skips a beat as I notice a missed call from Fallon. My pulse quickens, and for a moment, I'm hopeful that she wants to reconnect. But when I try to call her back, I find that she's blocked my number. The realization slams into me like a freight train.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, unable to shake off the feeling of despair that's slowly taking over. Her quick deletion of our main means of contacting each other intensifies my sense of isolation and longing.

Desperate to distract myself, I throw myself into work, trying to focus on the numbers and spreadsheets that usually occupy my mind. But it's no use—thoughts of Fallon keep creeping in, poisoning every moment of my day. I hate that she's so easilyable to pull me away from what's meant to be most important, just by one simple action.

"Damn it," I hiss, slamming my fist onto my desk. I need something else, something more physical to keep my mind occupied.

I head home to my gym, hoping that an intense workout session will help ease the turmoil inside me. As I lift weights and pound the treadmill, sweat pouring down my face, my muscles scream in agony. Yet, despite the pain, my troubled mind refuses to let go of Fallon.

"Come on, Aksel! Focus!" I scold myself through gritted teeth, pushing my body even harder.

But it's not enough. None of it is enough. No amount of work or exercise can erase the image of her face, the hurt in her eyes the last time we spoke, the sound of her voice when she told me she never wanted to see me again. And the blocked number that renders me incapable of getting in touch with her. But then the most precious of moments pop into my head, including the dinner at her place, the way we moved together on the dance floor at the gala. I'd give almost anything to relive those moments again, just for a split second.

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