Todos los capítulos de The Bad Boy’s Regret: Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

GABRIEL Upstairs the music is muffled but still loud enough to blur edges. I noticed almost all the doors are half-open. Shadows moving inside rooms but finally, I see her at the end of the hall. A guy has her backed against the wall near one of the bedrooms. His hand slides up her thigh.She laughs again but it’s thinner now. He leans in but she turns her face away. “Relax,” he says, and I hear it even over the bass. “I am relaxed,” she snaps, but it’s not her usual sober tone. His hand moves higher. She grabs his wrist. “I said relax.”“That’s not what I heard,” he replies, and his other hand grips her waist harder. I’m moving before I think. I grab his shoulder and yank him back so hard he stumbles. “Get the fuck off her.”He turns, confused, then annoyed. “Who the hell are you?”“Move.” Zoey pushes off the wall, glaring at me. “Gabriel, what the hell are you—”The guy shoves me. “Mind your business you–” I shove him back. Harder. He swings first, I felt his fist catch my jaw. The

JULIANI couldn’t stop staring at my phone, watching the notification pop up again. Dominic’s name. Again. The five hundred and eighty ninth call in a week. I felt my stomach churn with irritation, but I didn’t pick up this time. Hell, I didn’t even want to look at the screen anymore. Every time it was him, it was like a constant reminder of the mess I was in, of the fact that I was still in love with someone who didn’t want me in the same way.I kept the phone face down on the bed. Every part of me wanted to smash it into the wall, wanted to shut everything out, but I was too tired. Too fucking exhausted. My thoughts kept dragging me back to that conversation we had days ago, how he couldn’t even bring himself to say it, to just admit that he didn’t care enough.That was the thing with Dominic. He was stubborn, too damn proud. He’d never make the first move. He’d never make the leap. If he truly loved me, he would have claimed me by now, but no. He’d rather keep his distance. He didn

DOMINIC He rolls his hips and slams forward, stabbing my groin with his crown. Once, twice. On the third time, I’m thrusting as well, matching his rhythm and jerking as hard as he’s directing my hand, refusing to be the recipient.Wetness slips beneath our fingers and I’m not sure if it’s his precum or mine. I obviously don’t care, because I go faster, harder. Out of the control I excel at so well. “Your hand is jerking me so good, baby.” Julian groans, trapping the corner of his lip between his teeth and I can’t help looking at his face. At the fuck-me expression. The hollowing in his cheek as he releases these fucked-up erotic noises that destroy something inside me.How can a savage be so…attractive?“Does it feel good when I touch you?” He squeezes my hand on our lengths. “Does it feel intoxicating? Liberating?” All I can do is stare at him. Caught in a trance. Astonished. As if my soul has left the confines of my physical body.“You don’t have to answer. Your cock is doing the j

GABRIELI hadn’t been to Monica’s house in what felt like forever, and even when I had, I’d never really gotten the chance to be inside. I’d seen her place from the outside a thousand times, but stepping over the threshold now felt like a weird kind of return.She opened the door for me and gave me a small smile, the kind that wasn’t really a smile but still managed to make everything feel just a little less tense. “You never got to come in last time, did you?” she said, her voice quieter than usual, like she was still getting used to the idea of us being here like this.I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Guess not.”She nodded, then turned and led me upstairs. She walked ahead, moving through the hall.Her room was just as I imagined it. Soft lighting, cozy, and a little disorganized in the way only a teenager’s room could be. There were textbooks strewn across the desk and clothes thrown over the chair. It felt... lived in, but also like no one had really been there to see it. She

ZOEY Beep.Beep.I keep staring at the ceiling. “It’s not uncommon after traumatic events,” he continues. “Especially if there are triggers involved.”Triggers. That’s a cute word for it. He says something about stress management. About therapy. About monitoring. I don’t really hear it. The beeping is louder than him. It’s distracting. It’s irritating. I focus on that instead.Beep.Beep.Beep.I turn my head slightly and see the IV in my wrist. Clear liquid dripping slowly into me. Making me feel floaty. Dull. My phone is on the table beside the bed. I grab it. There are too many notifications. I ignore most of them.Wayne: Where are you?Wayne: You disappeared.Wayne: I can come pick you up.I stare at his name for a second then lock the phone and turn to the other side. I feel tired. Not sleepy. Just drained. Like someone unplugged me.Then I remember something. Hospitals give good stuff. The kind that makes everything quiet. The kind that smooths the edges off your brain.I sit u