Call Me A Liar [Book 1] (Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

28

A hot Friday evening turns cold and gloomy rather quickly, ran splashing against the windows of Justin's bedroom windows. Thunder claps loudly enough to rattle the room, but not enough to stop me as I move up and down over his length while he lays flat on his bed. His hands grip my legs, the sweat that graces our bodies making it so much harder for him to keep his hands from sliding off of me. I grab onto his wrists to help him, holding them tight.

This one comes quickly, and I fall down over his body while I tremble above him. He's quick to cover my mouth with his by holding the back of my neck, then he fucks me through my orgasm until he gets his.

The way he tongues my mouth after we both come will never get old. He's so slow and passionate, his lips sure to ease me in every way possible.

The line begins to blur between physical chemistry and passionate affair. And it happens fast.

"Justin," I hum into his lips with him still inside of me.

"Hm?" he sits up so that we're more comfortably eye level, although he's not looking at me at all. He's still kissing me deeply, causing me to wonder if the line is blurring for him too.

I wonder who will admit to it first.

"Are you sleeping with anyone else?" I ask bravely, the daze I'm in making the question a little bit easier.

At least that's what I think until he separates our lips, making me face the beautiful gaze that always has me in a state of hypnosis.

He smiles, stroking just below my ear. "What?"

"You're not having sex with anyone else, right?" I reiterate.

"God, no," he says as if it's the most obvious thing. "I wouldn't do that."

I nod, swallowing hard. Relief hits me like a train.

"Jane, I haven't slept with anyone else since I met you. I promise," he adds.

Dark eyes that look so loving follow mine, the soft curve of his lips not leaving for anything as he continuously brushes his thumb over my skin. He admires me from just inches away, looking beautiful as ever while he does it.

"I, um," I start, looking down for just a second. "I'm not either, in case you were wondering."

"I know you're not," he squeezes me, in turn pulling me closer.

"How do you know?" I mirror his smile.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I just do."

"How do you know I don't have, like, four other boyfriends?" I tease.

There's a quick pause before he finally says: "Do you?"

"No," I laugh.

The soft creases return to the outer sides of his eyes again when he laughs, his smile lighting up the dimly lit bedroom. In my haze, my motor functions must not be working correctly because I bring my fingers up to them, dragging the tips of them over the fine lines shamelessly like I've done it thousands of times before.

"I slept with someone back in April. That was the last before you," he says softly.

"Who was it?"

"Someone I went to high school with," he shrugs. "It was nothing serious, just a one night stand kind of thing. What about you?"

"May was the last time," I reply. "Back when you heard me telling Birdie about it."

"I always meant to ask about that. Who was he?"

"He's a friend of my family," I roll my eyes. "My parents and his parents are dead set on us getting married and having kids, but he's like eleven years older than me. What could I possibly have in common with a thirty-one year old?"