Page 48 of Faker

“Screw you.” I push at his chest, and he takes hold of my hands and laces our fingers together, pressing them against the wall again.

Why do I still want him? The overbearing asshole is too much. But I’m so wet, I love this back and forth. I love each part of him, the darkness and the light. My eyes go wide, and he sees it.

“What, Storm, what are you thinking about?” He lets go of one hand and I place it on my heart.

Do I love him? I watch as he runs his thumb under the strap of lace on my hip as I pant and try to get my thoughts under control.

“You wore it over these,” he says, looking at my suspenders. “So I can fuck you with them still on?”

“Screw you.” I try to shove him back, but he has other plans as he places his hands under my ass and picks me up like I weigh nothing, and on instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist, and he walks backwards to one of the boxes and sits me down. He leans his head back, ogling me.

“What are you doing?” I whisper as he yanks my hips up and snaps the lace from me, revealing my wet pussy to his gaze. He bites on his bottom lip and stares at me there. I want to bury my head against the crook of his neck, but I keep looking at him while he pushes his boxers all the way down, revealing his impressive hard shaft.

“Please, Sum, what do you want from me? If it’s sex, I can give it to you, but if this is the only thing,” I say, staring at the scar that runs down his eye. “Then this is the last time we’ll see each other.”

He shakes his head and rubs both hands over his face. Locking his eyes on mine, his big hands grip my waist and drag me to the edge of the wooden crate. He digs his fingers in my flesh and pulls me down onto his cock. I groan the moment his hard tip parts my pussy lips.

“Give me this,” he pleads, resting his forehead against mine.

My hands disappear into his hair while I pull on the strands, and I gasp, loving the feeling of him spreading me open. He runs his hands over my ass and down to my crack and up again. I cry out his name when he circles my asshole with his finger. “You are dripping for me, baby,” he whispers against my ear.

“Stop, Summer,” I tell him, pushing at his arms. It’s like he can’t hear me as he slams his hips forward and shoves halfway in on a deep growl.

“I missed you so bad,” he moans, kissing my mouth.

I bite on his bottom lip and his eyes flash open. “I said stop, fucker,” I tell him, hitting his chest. He stumbles backward and guides himself back inside his boxers, while I pull my dress down. My panties are lying on the floor in pieces.

“I-I…” he stutters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, I’m not like him,” he says, as his cheeks flush.

“Get the hell out,” I yell in his face. “You are just like h…” I spit out, and I want to take the words back the moment they leave my mouth.

“I’m sorry, fuck, Storm, I…” he begins, and swallows hard while he runs a hand through his long hair. It reaches his shoulders now. The man looks flawless, but the dark circles under his eyes tell me he isn’t the only one who hasn’t been able to sleep the last couple of weeks.

“Just go,” I tell him as I turn around, anger, sadness, and love coursing through my body.

“I, I’m sorry,” he confesses, then I hear the door open and close, and when I turn around, the man is gone.

My heart breaks by having him walk away again. I can’t let him, he’s mine. “Fuck, wait,” I swear, running after him. When I get outside and dash up the stairs to the street, he gets in his car, along with Han. I wipe at my nose as the cold air hits my face, and the tears start to stream down. I should have asked him to stay. He told me he didn’t know how to talk about his feelings, but he bought a painting of mine, so doesn’t that mean something? I start to walk down the hill to the end of the street and spot his car waiting to make a left turn. I call out his name and I start to run. The light turns green, and he revs the engine of his black sports car and is gone in a second. I stop, catching my breath, and stare at the road as cars drive by and know I made a big mistake letting him walk out the door. I make my way back to the gallery slowly, walking down the steps and closing the door behind me.

“Why didn’t I tell him what I feel?” I ask myself, as I try to locate my bag and phone. I frown, looking around the empty space. Something feels off, but I cast the thought aside when I locate my bag lying next to the back entrance. Weird. I check for my phone, it’s still in there. I try to turn it on, but the battery is dead. “I can use the walk instead of ordering a cab,” I tell myself and straighten my shoulders.

I slide the heavy door leading to the back of the studio open and gasp. No. I drop my bag and run to the opened boxes and trashed paintings. Some are sliced while others are covered in white paint.

“Who the hell did this?” I swear while I scan the dark area. I jump back when the door closes and my ex-boyfriend steps out of the shadows.

“Took you long enough to get here,” he says, his voice shrill. The man looks like he is drunk and hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“You did this?” I ask, fighting against the tears threatening to spill over. I will not give it to him, he isn’t worth it. I’m stronger than he ever was. That’s one of the things Summer taught me, I’m strong and can do anything and be anything with someone just as strong by my side.

“Yes, after what you did to me,” he tells me, sounding nothing like the man I used to know.

“I…” I say, raising my voice. “I didn’t do shit, you stole my money. I had to make a deal,” I tell him.

“With the devil,” he finishes for me.

“Don’t, Jason,” I say, calling him by his American name.

“Your boyfriend ended my father and me,” he howls, his sharp voice echoing through the large space.

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