Chapter 26. I Fuck Both Ways

Chapter 26. I Fuck Both Ways

Arjona POV 
My Fake Zorak  leaned in close,his  lips brushing my ear. “You tell me how does it feel.”
My skin lit up like fire. My thighs tightened against each other.
“You’re not him,” I whispered.
“Does it matter?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.
For a second, I hated him. I hated how much I wanted him. Then I shoved him hard into the wall, my palm flat against his chest.
“Take your clothes off,” I ordered.
He smirked, unbuttoning his shirt, slow. Teasing me. His abs caught the light, a faint trail of hair leading down into his jeans.
I licked my lips before I could stop myself.
“Faster,” I snapped.
“Patience, princess,” he said, sliding the shirt off his shoulders. “You wanted to practice. I’m giving you the full lesson.”
I pushed the silk strap of my slip down, baring one shoulder, then the other. His eyes tracked me like a predator.
When I dropped the dress to the floor, his smirk widened.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I stepped forward, grabbed his belt, yanked it open. “Don’t flatter me. Just show me.”
His mouth crashed into mine. Rough. Hard. Hot.
I clawed at his back, pulling him closer, grinding against him. My body betrayed me, heat flooding my core. It felt too good. Too right.
His hand gripped my ass, lifting me, slamming me onto the desk. Papers scattered to the floor. 
The glass toppled, bourbon spilling in a brown river across the marble, dripping onto my thigh. The desk was ice against my bare skin, but his body was fire. I could smell the mix of liquor, perfume, and sweat.
 Every thrust branded me deeper, like I was being claimed by the devil.
“God, yes,” I gasped as he pressed his mouth down my throat.
His fingers slid between my thighs, teasing, spreading me. I moaned, arching into him.
“You want Zorak,” he growled. “Say it.”
“I want…” My voice broke. I hated him for making me weak. “…I want this.”
He pushed inside me, sudden, deep, filling me until I cried out.
“Fuck!”
I grabbed his hair, pulling him closer, biting his shoulder as he thrust into me. The desk rocked beneath us. My nails raked his skin.
“Say his name,” he demanded, pounding harder.
“Zorak!” I screamed, even though I knew it wasn’t him. Even though it was a lie.
But God—my body didn’t care.
The heat built fast, too fast. His rhythm brutal, relentless, like he owned me.
My head fell back, mouth open, breathless moans spilling out. I was losing myself, and I didn’t care.
“Fuck—yes—don’t stop—”
He smirked, breath hot against my cheek. “Desk is too easy. I want to see how far you’ll bend.”
Before I could spit back, he grabbed me by the hips, spun me around, and shoved me down onto the leather chair behind my desk. My knees hit the seat, my chest pressing into the cool backrest.
“Spread,” he ordered, voice so close to Zorak’s it made my stomach knot.
I glared over my shoulder, but my body obeyed, silk slip bunched high around my waist. The cool air kissed my bare ass, and then his hand came down—hard. The smack cracked through the office. My gasp broke into a moan.
“Perfect,” he growled, dragging his cock across me, teasing, slick from the first round. “God, you’re dripping. You wanted this, didn’t you?”
“Shut up and fuck me,” I snapped.
He shoved deep in one brutal thrust. The chair rocked, the wheels screeching against the marble floor as he drove into me. My nails sank into the leather, my head falling back, every thrust forcing my moans louder.
The desk drawer rattled. Papers slid to the ground. His pace was ruthless, punishing, like he was proving something.
I looked back, breathless. His face—Zorak’s face—flushed, slick with sweat, golden strands falling into his eyes.
“Say it again,” he demanded, slamming harder.
“Fuck me!” I cried, even though my gut twisted at the lie.
He leaned over me, his mouth biting down on my shoulder, teeth sinking just enough to sting. The pain made the pleasure sharper, hotter, unbearable.
The chair nearly toppled as he hauled me upright against his chest, one hand tight on my throat, the other gripping my hip as he pounded from behind. My scream tore out, echoing in the office.
I came hard, legs shaking, silk clinging to my sweat-soaked skin.
And he didn’t stop.
“Good girl,” he snarled into my ear, his voice perfect, cruel, Fake Zorak’s voice.
Then the door creaked.
“Holy shit.”
I froze. My heart stopped.
Renzo stood in the doorway, robe half open, apple forgotten in his hand. His mouth hung open.
For a second, no one moved. The fake Zorak didn’t even pause. He just glanced at Renzo with a grin, still driving into me.
“Want a turn?” he asked.
Renzo’s eyes widened. His cheeks flushed pink. He dropped the apple to the floor with a dull thud.
“W-what?”
The fake Zorak laughed, kissing me hard, biting my lip until I gasped. Then he looked back at Renzo. “She’s not selfish. Share her. Or… I could share myself.”
Renzo’s breathing quickened. His robe slipped further open. His eyes darted between me and the double.
“Renzo,” I growled through gritted teeth, half drunk on lust, half furious. “Get the fuck out.”
But Fake Zorak wasn’t done.
“Don’t listen to her,” he said, still thrusting into me, making my body quake. “Come here. Touch me. See what the money bought.”
Renzo took a step forward. Then another. His face twisted, torn between disgust and desire.
The double reached out a hand, fingers curling, beckoning him closer.
“You think she’s the only one who gets to play?” he said, smirk sharp. “I swing both ways, sweetheart. Always have.”
Renzo’s robe slipped to the floor. He was trembling, his chest bare, eyes wide.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
I shoved Fake Zorak hard, panting, trying to collect myself. “Enough!”
But the double just laughed, pulling out of me with a wet sound, stroking himself casually as he turned to Renzo.
“Your turn, pretty boy.”
Renzo hesitated. His lips parted. His eyes flicked to me, then back to him.
I stood, slipping my silk back up over my shoulders, my heart pounding with fury and shame.
“You two deserve each other,” I hissed, grabbing my glass and storming past them.
As I left, I heard the double whisper in Renzo’s ear:
“Relax. She doesn’t own me. Tonight, I’m yours.”
And Renzo’s shaky laugh followed me down the hall.
Later — Fake Zorak Alone
The bathroom mirror was fogged from the steam. He wiped it with his palm, staring at his reflection.
Zorak’s face stared back. Almost perfect. The smirk. The cocky tilt of his head.
He practiced the voice, low and sharp.
“Nolie.”
He smirked.
“Little violin girl.”
He laughed, dark and hollow.
He touched his lips, still wet from Arjona, then from Renzo. The taste lingered, sour and sweet. His grin spread wider.
He loved this game. The Half-actor. Half-monster. All hunger.
“Let her fall in love with me first,” he whispered to the mirror. “Then I’ll ruin her.”
He pressed his mouth to the mirror, leaving a wet print, then whispered to his own reflection:
“She won’t know whose lips she’s kissing—his, or mine. And when it breaks her, I’ll enjoy every second.”