BPOV
My name is Bella Clarks, and I...am an ass addict. In my defense, Justin's ass was ridunkulous. It's all round, firm and perky. Two little dimples were perched right above it on his lower back, and then there's this little smooth slope that rounds out deliciously into two muscular cheeks that hollow out when it's flexed. Add to that the creamy yumminess of the skin, and you've got a vision of divine assness.
Fucking sue me. I don't want help for my co-dependency. This works just fine for me.
It was morning and Justin was lying on his stomach while I was perched on my side next to him. He was still sleeping, and I was gawking at all his naked glory. He had kicked the covers off somewhere during the night, and when I woke, I was immediately greeted with the glorious sight of his delicious body in its untainted form: He was magnificent. Although I loved the way his clothes hung on his frame, this...this was so much better.
I watched as his back Becks and fell with his even breaths. Every muscle was defined and my fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and trace them. His face was turned toward me, and I marveled at the length of his dark, thick lashes. The lack of shaving over the weekend left a rather delectable shadow of a beard on his strong jaw. I rather liked it and made a mental note to try to find some way to convince him to wear it like that more often; corporate America be damned . His lips were slightly puckered and there was a tiny mar to the bottom, a reminder of our erotic session from the night before when he more than fulfilled my wicked little vamp fantasy.
A smile crept up on my face and I reached forward and gently cupped his face. As I delicately ran the pad of my thumb along his lower lip, he moaned before finally stirring. I probably shouldn't wake him before his alarm went off, but I just couldn't help myself. Lips like those had to be touched.
His eyes fluttered open and immediately met mine; pools of emerald so rich, you couldn't help but drown in them.
"G'mornin'," his scratchy morning voice greeted me. He puckered his lips minutely and kissed the pad of my thumb.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I lied and pulled my hand away.
"S'okay. What time is it?" He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside him. He groaned when he read it and flipped onto his back. "Fuck. I need to get up and go in to work," he sighed and then ran his hands over his face.
"Do you want me to make you some breakfast?" I asked.
His hands fell from his face and he looked at me in surprise. "You can cook?"
I giggled at him, because apparently I'm going soft. "Yes, Justin. We simple, blue collar folk actually have to do that sort of thing, unless we want to die of starvation."
"Can you make...bacon and eggs?" His face wore this adorable little hopeful expression.
I rolled my eyes and nodded. "How do you like your eggs cooked?"
"Over easy?"
"I can do that, Justin. I can make you breakfast like that," I said seductively, making a play on his words from the night before. You'd think I was offering him the same damn thing that he had been offering me, because I swear he got a hard on.
"Sweet! I'll just go grab a shower and get dressed." He was out of the bed in the blink of an eye, and I was left to stare after him. Yes, I was ogling the ass masterpiece; the assterpiece. Mmm...I wanna' piece.
I slid out of bed as well and threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top. It would do until I was able to take a shower myself.
Once downstairs, I grabbed a skillet from one of those fancy-schmancy hanging thing-a-mabobs that hung over the center island and put it on the stove. The stove...
