Justin Bieber & Jason McCann Dirty Imagines

2 (Pillows) Justin Bieber

EVERY IMAGINE IN THIS BOOK IS NOT MINE SO CREDITS GO TO WHOEVER OWNS THIS.

I couldn't process it at first, the sound
I heard when I creeped up the stairs on that early afternoon. It was as though my brain couldn't let my heart believe it was what I was imagining.

Moving slow so the floorboards wouldn't give me away, I had a pacing heart and a stirring in my stomach. The sound became louder and sent chills trickling down my spine.

The anticipation was almost too much.

Standing outside of the bedroom, my fingers gripped the door frame ever so tightly as she came into view through the small gap she'd left between the door and its frame. I could feel the heat enter my body and stir, causing me to take a slow, deep breath.

Her back arched beautifully, the light emphasising a thin layer of sweat covering it, and from where I stood, I could see the curve of her ass prominent on the white sheets.

But what I noticed a few moments later was the pillow tucked between her legs, just below her rocking hips that allowed her to find just the right amount of friction. I swallowed a moan just in time.

Somewhere deep down, I felt guilty for not turning around and letting her to get off in peace. All I could do was stand and watch, and occasionally brush a hand over my dick; each time I did, I was harder than before.

Soft whimpers left her throat, but just because they were soft, doesn't mean they weren't loud. They echoed around the room and my God, they were enough to make my cock twitch.

I'd never seen her in such a way, I'd never been given the chance to see her so wrecked and needing for pleasure. It was my first time and I wanted so much more.

See, [Y/N] was always my angel. She was always blushing a deep red at anything related to the subject of sex, and squirming away when my curious hands moved too far. Whenever my fingers would so much as brush against her inner thigh she'd retract completely; slam her legs together, brush off her shirt, all before giving me a look that meant a firm 'no'.

And I retreated immediately, of course; giving her a sly smile and a quick peck on the softness of her cheek. And later when I was alone, I'd make sure to jack off the pent up frustration, ready for another day.

But this, this was new. It was exciting, and it was as though my eyes were glued to the writhing girl in front of me. All I could do was drink in the sight of her thighs shaking whenever she hit a particularly good spot, I bit down on my bottom lip as I imagined see the view from below her and being able to feel her thighs shaking.

I'm not one to voice my pleasure too much, but I was another minute from imitating her whimpers; seeing her rutting her hips against the pillows and whining as though the pleasure was ripping her apart was almost too much. Would it be so wrong to make her aware of my presence? Would she be freaked out, or would she maybe let me sit and watch? I very much doubted the last one, but I let it feel possible for a little while longer.

My hand stopped taking breaks from palming my dick through my jeans and set up camp instead. I suddenly regretted wearing skinny jeans as the restriction caused me to break out in a sweat.

[Y/N] let out a string of 'Oh God's with a trembling voice and I was silently encouraging her to cum, but knew I couldn't make a sound; I don't think she'd be able to look me in the eyes if she knew I'd seen her, although I'd have no problem imagining her moaning while riding a pillow whenever I looked at her, despite how wrong that would be.

My head was in a daze. Whenever I thought I was over it, she'd let out a strangled whimper and entice me all over again. And the sounds only got louder as I assumed she got closer, striving for that edge.

My fingers clenched firmly on the doorframe while I drank in the sight of her hips rigorously thrashing against the soft material, I imagined her stomach was twisting and turning while her heart hammered in her chest. Another moan vibrated through her throat.

The guilt was sickening in my stomach. I knew enough to know it was wrong, so why didn't I stop? I'm a sucker for pleasure; once I'd had a taste, I nodded more.

I wanted more of [Y/N] writhing and wrecked, I wanted her moans closer to my ears, I wanted her on all fours in front of me. I wanted so much.

Everything intensified when she came. I could only guess, but the way her body jerked and the voicing of her pleasure became louder told me everything I needed to know.

It was music to my ears. It was everything I imagined it to be and more. The sound of a girl whimpering had never had such an effect on me.

She sounded almost in pain, as though she needed to cum more than she'd ever needed anything in her entire life, like she'd do absolutely anything.

It wasn't entirely silent after she came down from her high; her pants and occasional sigh echoed around the room.

It was probably time for me to leave, I kept thinking. I didn't want to pry my eyes off of her; if I did, it all ended. It'd be like a hollow dream.

But all good things come to an end. I watched her run a hand through her hair before - as silently as I could - tiptoeing towards the stairs and taking each one at a time. I'd made it so far; I was determined not to get caught then.

I adored the look of panic in her eyes when she caught sight of me in the kitchen, knowing she was praying I hadn't witnessed her little rendezvous. To save her some red cheeks and stuttering, I pretended to have just got home.

To my disappointment, she wasn't naked when she came down the stairs. One of my sweatshirts hugged her shoulders while a pair of shorts hid underneath, only making an appearance when she raised her arms and the sweatshirt rode up.

She blushed when our kiss lingered, and gasped when I moved my lips down her jaw and towards her neck, as though she'd experienced no higher pleasure.

But I knew.