Page 61 of F*ckboys

"Fuck, Fallon," Aksel growls as I dig my nails into his shoulders, unable to contain my desperation for him. "You're going to ruin me."

"Good," I pant, the word a declaration of war.

This time, I can focus on the sensation, and god he feels good. Images of him are no longer floating through my mind, because he's here right in front of me. He's inside me. The man who haunts my dreams and preoccupies my every waking thought is inside me. But he's a means to an end. This is simply to keep my distraction at bay while I plot how to take him down for the pain he's caused me, after all. His very nice cock is just coming in handy in the process.

"Holy fuck, Fallon." He grits his teeth.

I lean forward, my breasts brushing against his chest as I kiss him hard, tasting myself on his lips. Our tongues wrestletogether, a violent dance of dominance and submission. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer as he fills me completely. I feel every inch of him inside me, stretching me in ways I didn't know were possible.

"You like that, Aksel?" I whisper against his neck, nipping at the skin. "Being owned by a woman?"

He growls, his voice low and full of lust. "Fuck yes."

With each thrust, I feel him hitting my cervix, claiming me as his own. I grip the back of the couch, my nails digging into the plush leather as I take him deeper. We're both panting now, our bodies moving together in a rhythm of catharsis and lust.

"That's it," he mutters, his voice rough. "Ride me, baby."

I do just that, riding him harder and faster, determined to make him see that I've never been his. I've always been my own person. And I've learned a thing or two since high school and college.

His hands slide down to my ass, squeezing me tight as he slams into me from below with rough strokes. I cry out, my body betraying me as the sensations build. He's not gentle, but neither am I. We're both animals now, seeking release from this tension between us.

"You're mine," he says, his voice harsh. "Always have been."

I bite my lip, feeling the sting of his words. But I won't let him take away my freedom. I won't let him define me.

He grabs my hair, pulling my head back roughly, exposing my neck. I taste blood in my mouth. "Say it," he whispers, his hot breath on my skin.

"No," I whisper back, but I can't deny the pleasure coursing through me.

He growls again and slaps me hard across the ass, leaving a stinging that only fuels our passion. We continue like this, our bodies moving together in a primal dance of hate and love. Of desire and anger. It's confusing and exhilarating all at once.

He grunts my name as he releases inside me. I scream, "Aksel," feeling him pulsing inside me which sends me over the edge, the coil within me snapping and sending bursts of white-hot electricity coursing throughout my body. The stings from his slaps are momentarily sensitized even further. The pain and pleasure blend together until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

As we catch our breath, he pulls out slowly, his eyes full of lust and something else—possessiveness, maybe? He slaps my ass again, marking me like a brand.

"Remember this," he says, his voice hoarse. "You're mine."

I push myself up from the couch and begin to walk away from him. While he can't see my face, I mouth, "I'll never forget it." I'd never give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud. And I can't possibly mean it. It must be the afterglow of what I have to admit was some pretty amazing sex.

He collapses back onto the couch, sweaty and spent, and a large part of me wants to join him. But this isn't over. Not by a long shot. I still have a score to settle.

As I put on my dress, I feel his eyes on me. They follow every movement, drinking me in. I feel heat rising up my chest and onto my face under the scrutiny of his gaze.

"You're leaving?" he asks, his voice broken.

I turn to face him, and purse my lips into a smirk. "I'm just getting started."

He looks at me quizzically as I slip out of his condo, my heart pounding. This isn't the end of our twisted game. It's a continuation.

As I step out of Aksel's apartment, the night air hits me like a slap in the face. It's cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat we just created inside those walls. The door clicksshut behind me, sealing away our momentary fulfillment. As the reality of my situation sinks in, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold onto some semblance of warmth.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, the word carried away by the wind. With each step I take, the distance between Aksel and me grows, but the lingering sensation of his touch remains. This unspoken connection we share is as dangerous as it is thrilling, and I can't help but feel like I'm playing with fire.

In my car, my hands tremble as I grip the steering wheel. I'm shaking with excitement and fear. What if this goes too far? What if he doesn't understand? But he has to. He deserves to understand.

As I drive off into the night, I replay our encounter over and over again in my mind. The way he took me from below while I was riding him—so rough, so raw. The way he growled my name. The way it felt to be his completely. It was intoxicating... and horrifying all at once. The memory of his hands on me, his lips against mine, both excites and terrifies me. How can something that feels so right be so undeniably wrong?

But I need to get over it. It was a means to an end. I didn't fuck Aksel to catch feelings. I did it because every time another guy touches me I wish it was his hand. His mouth. His cock. So I took it, in hope doing the real thing would get him out of my mind. I just hope it doesn't have the opposite effect.

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