I Can't Make You Love Me (Justin Bieber Fanfiction) (BWWM)

chapter 17

I sat on the bed in a lingerie set, aesthetically positioned by the director and Justin himself. Justin was currently talking about the story board of his visual album.

I sighed to myself getting a little impatient. We had a whole day shoot, we came here early as fuck. Call time was 6 in the morning.

The way he expressed his creativity was cute. He wanted to show out like the attention whore he is and make an extra ass video of him pretending to fuck me on camera so the whole world know not to touch me. He thinks I am stupid but I know his ulterior motive. The man is so territorial and jealous, he is literally putting a brand on my forehead at this point.

Justin new exactly what to say to me. He was a master manipulator. He just had to bat his long thick eyelashes at me and I caved. So when he told me I was his muse, I couldn't help but be the girl in his video.

When my man asks, I deliver like the true white man's whore that I am.

Our new relationship had only solidified my intense attachment to this kid. I was a delusional ass bitch for so long that I had to keep pinching myself that we both were actually dating one another.

Was my need to be around him 24/7 a little toxic? Maybe. We might have the tendency to be co-dependent on each other, but I love him. I don't even love myself. I was dickmatized. I wasn't going no where. Was the dick really that worth it, to loose myself in. I was gonna disappoint my good sis, Michelle Obama, but yes girl. Justin's dick was worth everything I've worked so hard for.

Today's problem was that Justin wasn't pussy whipped like I thought I had this nigga 48 hours ago, and the more I watched Justin, the more turned on I became. He refused to touch me because he wanted to "method" act. Sometimes I look at this white boy and pray that God saves me from beating his ass. He got the fucking bright idea from Will Smith a couple nights ago when we came over to his house for dinner.

He wanted our sexual chemistry to be illustrated through film. I fucked with his vision but I was mad at this hoe for how quick he was to take what I wanted most for him, his long dick. I have been deprived. All the times he made me say "that's my dick, Daddy" and he don't even mean that shit whole heartedly, meanwhile this nigga finger popping his dirty finger nails in me w/o washing his hands in public. The audacity of this caucasoid. The double standards.

I never punished him with sex but he is so quick to punish me. I knew he was big hurt about the nerf game, but he started it. What a petty little bitch. Whatever he can do, I can do twice as bad, baby. I can ruin his whole life if I wanted to. Don't get me started, he don't want none of this. Cos if I was really plotting, he wouldn't ever disrespect me and pull this stunt again. Period!

I am a bird ass bitch though, hear me caw caw like a pigeon for this XY chromosome. I need a drink. This man threw my whole circadian rhythm off.

I felt myself pout a little as I wallow in my sexual frustration, the way the cloth of the lace panty rubbed against my clit was uncomfortable as my lips became wetter. I started remembering Justin's stroke game, his tongue game, the way his dick always hits my g spot.

I wanted to fuck this morning, I begged him but he yelled at me. I remembered his little attitude this morning and the little altercation that happened too. It was all part of the plan, to get what I wanted . I am one emotionally and mentally unstable ass bitch.

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"Please let me put my mouth on you" I whispered in his ear.

He ignored me as he continued to write an email on his phone.

My leg was stretched out on his lap as my bare pussy was angled against his gym shorts-clad thighs, I began to rub my pussy against him until I felt friction against his bare skin as his shorts rode up.