June's POV:
I was thoroughly fucked—every inch of claid and consud by Justin. My body writhed in the aftershock of pleasure, limbs trembling, heart pounding, the world reduced to a blissful blur. My mind was blank, the relentless voices finally silenced at last.
In that mont, I realized I didn't need the club. I didn't need so masked stranger to chase away my demons. I'd found my own Bad Wolf right here.
I didn't need to call anyone else. All I needed was Justin.
We didn't talk about it.
Not a single word passed between us after we ca down from whatever storm we'd stirred up together. No whispered regrets, no awkward laughs. Just this strange, raw silence that sohow felt... full.
I lay there, still catching my breath, his arms draped around like they belonged there—like I belonged there. My head pressed against his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm under my ear. It was warm, grounding, dangerous. I should've pulled away. I should've said sothing. But instead, I stayed.
We acted like nothing happened.
Not because it didn't an sothing—but maybe because it ant too much.
And before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep tangled in his arms, like we were lovers. Like we hadn't just crossed so invisible line. Like I hadn't just let the one person I promised I'd never need... in.
Maybe tomorrow would co with questions.
But for tonight, I just let myself hold him back.
I woke up feeling like I'd had the best sleep of my life. No nightmares. No traumatic mories. Just... peace.
I opened my eyes and realized I was still naked, tangled with a very naked Justin. I could feel the hard press of him against , his body warm and solid beneath mine. My cheeks flad red as I tried to wiggle free of his hold, but he only wrapped his arms tighter around , pressing closer.
"Stop moving about," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and sex—good lord, that voice could make any girl wet on the spot.
I froze, heart pounding, and took the chance to really look at him. Up close, the rumors hadn't done him justice. He was insanely handso—sharp jawline, dark hair tousled just enough, and eyes that were both fierce and sothing else I couldn't na.
He shifted, a lazy grin curling his lips as he felt staring. "Morning," he whispered, voice low and gravelly.
I swallowed, heat pooling between my legs. "Morning," I managed, my voice small.
He tightened his arms around again, nuzzling into my hair. "Sleep well?"
I closed my eyes, savoring the mont. "The best."
And in his arms, with the world still outside, I believed it.
"Care for a morning exercise?" he asked, voice low and teasing.
"What... morning exercise?" I murmured, still lost in the hazy warmth of his arms.
He smirked, leaning down to capture my lips in a lazy kiss. His hand slid between us, guiding the length of him as it slowly hardened against my crotch.
"This."
Who could say no to that?
Fuck—he knew exactly how to push every button. His hands were everywhere, caressing, fondling, squeezing with a possessive urgency that had a trembling ss. I couldn't help the desperate moan that tore from my throat. "Justin..." I gasped, my voice raw.
He didn't make beg. Didn't give ti to form words. Instead, he whispered filthy promises in my ear, his voice a growl that sent heat coiling through .
With a swift movent, he flipped onto my side, my back arched and exposed. His hand gripped my hip, anchoring in place. Then, without hesitation, he lifted my leg and—fuck—he ramd into in one brutal thrust.
I was a goner.
My body shook, every nerve alight as he claid again and again. He was dominant. He was sexy. He was everything I needed—and he was relentless.
He didn't slow down. Not for a second.
His thrusts were hard and unrelenting, each one driving deeper than the last. I felt the slick burn of pleasure with every collision of our bodies. His hand tightened on my hip, fingers digging in as he set a savage rhythm—one that left breathless and begging.
"Justin... harder," I gasped, my voice shaking.
He responded with a low chuckle, pressing a rough kiss to the back of my neck. "You asked for it, baby."
Then, with a quick, practiced movent, he spanked —smack!—his palm landing squarely on my ass. The sting flared hot and sharp, mixing with the fire of his thrusts to send over the edge.
I cried out, my body trembling, my back arching as he drove into with renewed force. Every sense was on fire: the cool air against my heated skin, the throb of his cock buried inside , the sound of my own ragged breaths and his guttural grunts.
His other hand slid up to cup my breast, squeezing and kneading with a possessive urgency that made my head spin. I could taste my own desperation on my lips, feel it pooling between my thighs.
"Look at you," he growled, voice thick with lust. "So wet for ."
I tried to speak, but all that ca out was a broken moan.
He leaned closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "You're mine," he whispered, and then he slamd into again, harder, deeper—claiming in the most brutal, beautiful way.
I was lost in the intensity, in the fierce, unending need that bound us together. And as he continued, every forceful thrust, every rough caress, every heated word, I knew I'd never be the sa.
His breath ca ragged against the shell of my ear, each exhale branding , marking as his. I felt him pulse inside , the final thrust sending us both shuddering over the edge. His grip on my body didn't loosen — if anything, it tightened, like he was afraid I might slip away now that the storm had passed.
We stayed like that, tangled and sweat-slick, for what felt like forever. My heartbeat gradually slowed, syncing with his. The silence between us this ti was different — not the weighted kind from the night before. This one was... soft. Fragile.
I didn't dare speak. I didn't want to break the spell.
But eventually, he moved. Gently this ti. His lips brushed my shoulder in sothing that felt too much like affection, and not enough like the casual, aningless thing I was supposed to want this to be.
He rolled onto his back, pulling with him until I rested on his chest again. Like before. Like always.
"I'm not sorry," he said quietly.
The words hit harder than they should've.
I swallowed. "I'm not either."
And that was terrifying.
Because this — whatever this was — wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to need him. I wasn't supposed to feel safe in the arms of a man who once made it his mission to unravel .
But there I was. Wrapped in Justin's sheets. Wrapped in Justin.
"You thinking too loud," he murmured, his fingers trailing along my spine in lazy, slow circles. "Don't do that."
"I can't help it." I pressed my face into his chest, hiding. "This changes everything."
"No, it doesn't," he said, way too quickly. "It only changes it if you want it to."
His voice was even. But his hand had stilled.
"Do you?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "Want it to change?"
He didn't answer right away. I felt the rise and fall of his chest, the tension in his body. Then he spoke.
"I want you."
Three words. No hesitation.
No promises, either.
I wanted to believe him. God, I did. But I'd learned the hard way that wanting wasn't enough to build a future on. Not when ghosts still lived in my closet and fear still curled beneath my skin like smoke.
"I don't know what I want," I whispered.
He nodded like he understood. Maybe he did. "Then don't decide now."
Silence stretched again, but this ti it wasn't awkward — it was full of everything we weren't saying.
Finally, I sat up, the sheets clinging to my skin. The room was still dim, morning light seeping in through the slats of his blinds, painting soft golden lines across the bed.
Justin watched , eyes unreadable. "You going?"
"No," I said honestly. "But I might need a minute."
He reached out, brushing hair from my face. "Take all the minutes you need."
Goddamn him. Why did he have to be good to ?
I slipped out of bed, feeling the stretch and ache of what we'd done. The mirror on his wall caught my reflection — wild hair, flushed skin, bruises blooming along my hips like love notes written in his hands.
This wasn't just sex.
It hadn't been for a long ti.
And now that I'd let the door open even a crack, I wasn't sure I could shut it again.
I gathered my clothes slowly, trying not to overthink. But of course, I did. Every movent, every breath, felt like a decision I wasn't ready to make.
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