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

37

Is it possible to hate-fuck someone you love?

If it is, Justin and I were certainly very close to it after leaving the bar that night. It's aggressive and rough— a territory we haven't quite explored before then. It's interesting, because this harshness somehow makes me fall deeper.

The first time I come is with his hand wrapped around my neck while he fucks me hard from behind, slamming into me like we actually hate each other. The second time I'm on top, moving up and down over him while he lays flat on the bed and I rub my fingers over my clit. And the third is the one that truly sends me over the edge. I have my legs draped over his shoulders with his body weight on mine, my hands pinned above my head with one of his while his other forcefully makes me look at him. He makes me beg to let him come inside of me, which I so shamelessly do.

"Please, Justin," I beg through tired lips that are roughly pressed to his.

His fingers sink into the skin on my face to hold it in front of his while he relentlessly slams into me, my thighs aching terribly from the persistent pressure.

"Please what?" his voice is thick with demand as he bites my lip.

It takes everything in me, the tension and harshness making it so hard to speak. But I eventually whimper out: "Come in me. Please, Justin."

"You're going to have to do better than that," he growls, his wet thighs hitting the back of mine.

My eyes roll in the back of my head as I teeter on the edge of pleasure, desperately needing to be pushed over only to hurdle face first into an earth shattering orgasm that I know Justin is capable of giving me.

While capable, he's also capable of withholding it until I give him what he demands.

"I need you to come inside of me. I'm begging you," I muster out though my mind goes hazy.

He forcefully shoves his lips to mine, but takes them away when he hurdles another demand at me. "More."

I cry out in a mix of frustration and pleasure. I'm desperate to find words in my vocabulary that can explain what I need from him, any and all dignity going out the window as I whimper shamelessly.

"More," he commands again, his hot breath coating my lips.

I nod helplessly, giving into him. "Justin, I can't—" I gasp. "Please give it to me. I need you. I—"

I'm not making any sense. My mind is completely scrambled. I can't think straight with him doing this to me, let alone get the words out of my mouth that he needs to hear.

"Hold it a little longer for me, baby," he presses, his voice only softening slightly. "A little more."

I nod again, fixating on the sound of his voice as I lose control of all of my other senses. My hips and insides ache in the best way, knowing that it's all from the man I love. His fingers sink into the flesh on my cheeks to hold me in front of him, but I'd never dare to look away. Tears well in my eyes from the immense pain and pleasure that encapsulates my body, which he's certain to wipe away.

"That's my good girl," his lips rest against mine. "I love watching you take me—" he pauses as his breathing hitches. "So fucking pretty."

My back arches involuntarily to feel him closer. With Justin, I have no control over my body unless he grants it to me. It's a rare occasion that's usually short lived.

He bites my bottom lip before murmuring, "Come."

And like a well-trained dog, I do. I come for him, my body tensing beneath him as I take in a sharp gasp of air that's followed by whimpers and intelligible curse words. I feel him come inside, the warmth only easing me from the orgasm that pulses through every inch of my body. I tremble like a leaf beneath him, my hips involuntarily spasming from the intense pleasure.