Page 24 of F*ckboys

He groans. "Fucking hell, your pussy feels amazing," as he plows himself into me, my pussy clenching tightly around his sizable shaft.

"More," I gasp, digging my nails into his shoulders, urging him on without another word. He understands, responding with a thrust that sends waves of pleasure rippling through my core. Everything else fades away—the anger, the vengeance, the unrelenting ache in my heart—leaving only this base connection between two strangers desperate to feel alive.

Our bodies move together in a wild, urgent rhythm, each thrust erasing the memories of the day from my mind. His grunts are carnal, him needing me as much as I need him. This man is a balm to my bruised soul, a temporary reprieve from the darkness that threatens to engulf me. And yet, even as I lose myself in the pleasure he provides, there's an emptiness that lingers, a hollow feeling deep within that can't be filled by sex alone.

But for now, I push that thought away, focusing on the rough slide of skin against skin, the taste of sweat and desire on my lips. I cling to this stranger, drowning out the world with each gasp and moan, praying that for a moment, just a moment, I can forget everything else.

My mind starts to drift despite the pleasure he's giving me, and I know I need to change things up in order for this encounter to give me what I truly need: distraction and a sense of control. "Are you ready for what I have planned next?" I growl in the man's ear. "Can I dominate you for the rest of our time together?"

He raises an eyebrow, momentarily pausing his thrusting. "Youwant to dominateme?" He smirks, but also looks intrigued. I bet nobody has ever suggested that to him before.

"That's what I said, didn't I?" I growl, digging my nails into his back a little harder.

"Go right ahead," he growls.

The sexy stranger hops off me and I retrieve a few items from my bag and return to the bed.

"Get on your knees," I growl, and the man complies, turning his ass to face me. The sound of the leather straps slapping against each other echoes in the room as I secure the man's wrists to the bedposts. My hands shake slightly, but my resolve remains firm, unyielding. I need this, and so does he—this release from control, this surrender to something darker, more primal.

"Is this okay?" I ask, my voice rough with desire. He nods, his gaze locked on mine, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty in his eyes. I can't help but grin, feeling powerful, untouchable, as I reach for the harness and silicone toy I brought along. I don't normally carry a strap-on around with me, but I had a feeling I'd need a distraction tonight, and I wanted nothing more than to be in control of someone much bigger and stronger than me. Luckily, he's a willing participant. I can usually pick them out in a crowd, a hidden skill.

Adjusting the straps around my hips, I give him one last look, searching for any sign of hesitation. But there's none—only a wordless plea for me to take control, to give him what neither of us knew we needed until now. He doesn't flinch as he watches me apply a generous amount of lube to the dildo. And so, with a deep breath, I kneel behind him and line myself up between his legs, gripping his thighs as I push forward into him.

"Fuck," he groans, his body tensing beneath me. The sound of his submission sends a shiver down my spine, a surge of satisfaction that only fuels my hunger for more. I start slow, working my way in slowly and he moans a little each time I make my way further inside him. Before long, the dildo is fairly well into his ass, building a steady rhythm that has us both gasping for breath, our eyes locked in a dance of dominance and submission.

"Harder," he whispers, his voice strained. I oblige, increasing the pace, the force behind each thrust. It's exhilarating,intoxicating, this power I wield over him, and yet... it's not enough.

Aksel's face floats into my mind, his piercing gray eyes, his smug smile—a reminder of everything I've lost, everything I'm fighting for. I try to push the thought away, to focus on the man writhing beneath me, but the image lingers, taunting me, stoking the flames of my rage.

"Damn it," I hiss, frustration clawing at my chest. The man twists around, concern etched across his face, but I shake my head, refusing to let him in on the turmoil that threatens to consume me.

"Keep going," he urges, desperation in his voice. And so I do, pounding into him with renewed vigor, each thrust an outlet for the anger, the pain that courses through my veins. But it's no use—Aksel is there, behind every thrust, every gasp, mocking me even as I try to forget him.

I pause, and the man twists around again. "Please, I never knew this would feel so good—please keep going," he begs, but I can't, and instead, I shake my head.

"Fuck this," I growl, pulling out and unfastening the harness, throwing it aside and then unsecuring both of his wrists from the leather straps that held him captive and helped bend him to my will. The man flips around and watches me, confusion in his eyes, but I can't bring myself to care. All that matters is the fire that burns within me, the need for vengeance that refuses to be quenched by anything else.

I decide to give it one more try. Maybe if I come, the release will help to free some of my mental anguish. He's lying on his back at this point, so I climb onto him, straddling his hips between my thighs and feeling his hardness pressing against me. "We can keep going, but do you mind if I call you another name?"

"Call me anything you want," he says, his eyes dark with a combination of lust and residual confusion.

"Good," I say as I slam myself down on his cock, enjoying the sensation of his girth dragging against my walls. He groans as my pussy strains against his hardness.

"Fuck, Aksel," I gasp, my fingernails digging into the man's shoulders as I ride him, but it's not the nameless man beneath me that I see. Instead, it's Aksel's eyes that bore into mine, his lips that curl into a smirk as if he knows all my secrets, all my weaknesses.

The stranger reciprocates by grabbing me by my hips and plowing into me from below. "Harder," I demand, my voice raw and desperate, and the man obeys, thrusting up into me with a fierce power that has me teetering on the edge of release. Yet still, it's Aksel who dominates my thoughts—Aksel who I crave even as I punish myself for wanting him at all. Instead of anonymous sex with a stranger, I'm now using this man as a vessel for the only person's body I truly crave. And it seems to be working.

"Say my name," I order the man, needing to hear it out loud to banish Aksel from my mind.

The man hesitates, clearly unsure of how to respond to such a strange request, but eventually he complies, his voice strained and breathless as he gasps, "What is it again?"

I smirk. "Fallon," I pant.

"Fallon," he rasps.

"Again," I command, feeling the coil inside me tighten further with each utterance of my name. It should be enough—it should send me spiraling into oblivion, shattering me into a million pieces so that I can forget, if only for a moment, the twisted game that Aksel and I are playing.

"Fallon," the man repeats, his voice cracking under the strain, but it's not enough. I need more—I need the one thing I know I can never have.

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