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"No. You're completely wrong about that. Pennyworth was not the spider's-" Jasper began.

"It was not a spider," Emmett butted in as usual.

"Ewww! I hate spiders!" Alice shrieked.

"Then what was it if it wasn't a spider? Sure looked like a spider to me, if you ask m-"

"Get your eyes checked."

"No, I agree. It was a spider." Edward interjected. The conversation was getting heated.

"No one asked you or him what you thought."

"Look, that's beside the point," Jasper continued. "Pennyworth was a pawn for whatever that thing with the glowing stomach was."

I sat there with a smile on my face as I watched our friends—all dressed so sophisticated and having a not so sophisticated conver…argument about the ins and outs of Stephen King movies. Everyone had now moved on to IT and why he only attacked the little children of that one podunk country town.

I leaned forward from the back of the chair, lazily resting my arm on the edge of the large round table that held our friends--still bickering--as I sipped on my chai tea.

My gaze shifted from everyone else to you. I smiled to myself as I watched you, so comfortable as you, on occasion, added your two cents on the movie. I laughed as you pissed off the one and only with your ever changing, sometimes contradicting comments about the movie. I knew you did it to piss him off though.

"…who are you to talk about hating the movie? You, who watches it every time it comes on."

"Well, at least I'm not afraid of clowns." Despite Emmett's muscle exterior, he had a heart of gold and was as soft as a puppy. And deathly afraid of clowns.

"Hey! You know I had a bad experience with those…those…those paint shop reject demons."

"Look," I said standing, "the movie is stupid and has no point, none-whatsoever, and before you start," I added looking pointedly at our curly haired friend, "I too watch that ridiculous movie every time it comes on. It's Stephen King." I finished with a shrug turning away in the direction of the bathroom.

I laughed to myself as everyone continued probing at the content of the movies.

I walked slowly down the hallway just off the side of the dining room, still able to see part of the table and you as I glanced back. I admired the old paintings that hung and the molding that adorned the walls of this house that seemed so regal to me.

As I approached the door to the bathroom, hand outstretched toward the knob, I was suddenly pushed up against the door. I knew it was you. By the smell of your cologne as it engulfed me and warmed me from the inside out. Your hands, the way they grasped my hips like fire on ice. Gentle yet demanding and possessive, but somehow still made me feel safe and secure in your powerful embrace.

I tried to pull away from the door to look at you. "Edward, what are yo-" but before I could finish my question, you grabbed my wrists and held them to my sides further pushing me into the door almost roughly.

I could feel your warm breath on the back of my neck making the little hairs stand on end as you grazed your lips across my hairline teasingly.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" I demanded. I knew it would piss you off, me calling you Eddie. You didn't like that nickname and I only used it to piss you off a bit and get under your skin. But instead of backing off like I expected, you leaned in closer pressing your body against mine.

I could feel every contour of you body. Every curve, muscle and tendon as you flexed against me. The heart in your chest, beating slow and steady as you rested your delicious weight against me. I groaned on the inside—not wanting you to know what you did to me. I could feel everything through the thin material of my ensemble.

You leaned in once more, your warm breath blowing against my ear. "You do realize you're going to pay for calling me that?" you whispered huskily. I shuddered; an intense feeling running up and down my spine.

"But-" before I could complain, you opened the door quickly moving us inside and closing the door. Before I could even blink, my back was up against the door.


"Shhh." You ran your hands, soft and warm, up and down my body slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. I tried to grab your hands and move them away from my body, but you only restrained me; placing my hands at my side as you once again pressed your body into mine. I was melting to mush. I suddenly felt so underdressed.

You slowly released my hands—never speaking—gliding them slowly, ever so gently along my body. Over my hips, down my thighs until you reached the hem of my skirt. You ran your hands up my bare thighs until you reached the top of my lace thong. You slipped two fingers under the thin band. Agonizingly slow, you pulled them down.

I wanted to object. Tell you to stop, but I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth. You had taken complete control of the situation and I could do nothing to stop it. I wasn't even sure I wanted to stop it. We were in our friend's house, in the bathroom and everything about this was wrong, but no matter what argument I came up with, I couldn't speak the words to stop your assault on me.

You tapped my foot and I slowly raised each as you slipped the thin garment over my heels before standing back up.

"Ed-," I finally tried to object, but you cut me off with your lips--hard and passionate--searing against mine. I couldn't stop my hands from intertwining themselves in your hair as I pulled you closer. Everything inside of me screaming to push you away, yet I could only pull you closer.

You pulled away abruptly, a smirk on your face. You dangled my thong in the air, sniffing them and smiling in smug delight.

"You're ready for me." You said matter-of-factly. I couldn't deny you. I knew it was true. I was wet, dripping wet and my drenched panties were evidence of such. You balled them up, sticking them in your right pocket. "I think I'll keep these as a souvenir," you said, your eyes staring into mine, penetratingly so. You slowly--so slowly it almost killed me--slid your body down mine never breaking contact.

Once you were on your knees, you started to fondle my legs. Your fingers danced across my skin driving me insane with your touches. Grabbing the back of my knee, you raised my left leg and placed it over your shoulder.

"You smell delicious, love."

Wasting no time at all, you attacked my heat. My body immediately responded from the contact. I grabbed the door knob as I tried to brace myself. My knees were getting weak as you licked and sucked on me. Gently, you nibbled on my clit, sending the waves of pleasure though me. I grabbed a fist full of your hair, pushing you deeper as I felt a finger push into my core.

Pumping faster, you added another, and then another. I couldn't take it, it was too much for me to handle. I moaned. I had to touch myself. I removed my hand from your head, dragging my fingers over my mid-section until I reached my breast. I grabbed them hard, massaging and kneading them. I swirled my fingers over my peaks, pinching them as they got hard from my ministrations.

You drove your tongue into me then, sending me over the edge. I came in your mouth as you moaned at the taste of my juices flowing into you. Leisurely, you raised your body from the floor, licking your lips as you stared at me. You kissed me. Deepening the kiss almost immediately, wanting me to taste myself on you lips.

"Fuck, you taste so good." You whispered harshly as you attacked my neck. My head lulled to the side on it own, wanting to give you better access.

"Edward…we…we…we can't."

You didn't like that. You didn't like me telling you what you could and couldn't do. Abruptly—too fast for me to know what was happening before it was too late—I was perched on the edge of the sink. As my wrap around was tied on the left, your left hand grasped both of mine, holding them over my head up against the mirror as your right hand released the knot of my blouse.

Your eyes roamed of my body once I was revealed to you. Realizing the black strapless bra I wore snapped in the front, you quickly released me from my hold. I threw my head back as you grabbed hold of me, caressing me. You brought me into your mouth, tasting me. You swirled your tongue around my taut bud, teasing me before you took me completely in your mouth, suckling hard; your teeth grazing my peaks as you bit down making me cry out.

"Quiet, love. We wouldn't want the others to hear." Before I could respond, you shoved your hard, thick cock into me. I cried out even more.

I wanted so badly to touch you, but you wouldn't release your hold on my wrists no matter how bad I struggled. You held me against the mirror as you shoved into me, each time harder than the last. I cried out again.

I fed you with my moans of pleasure and whimpers to be released. You reached into you pants pocket and retrieved my soaked panties, shoving them into my mouth, my cries were muffled as you fucked me.

Harder and harder, you rammed your throbbing dick into me, fire igniting all through my body. Reaching your hand down, you began to pinch my clit, making me cry out louder than before. The panties meant to muffle me were not working so much anymore as the fire spread and rose higher in temp.

You finally released my hands, snatching the thong out of my mouth and grabbing the back of my neck as you brought me roughly to your mouth in a searing kiss. Your hot breath was no longer steady as it mingled with mine. I could still taste the sweetness of my nectar on your tongue and the smell of my arousal on your lips. I moaned at the taste. The thought. The feelings that you brought to me.

Pulling me away from you, you spoke deadly serious. "I want you to be quiet."

"But, Edwa-"

Jerking me closer--still fucking me hard--you spoke again, further arousing me with you demands. "Don't speak, love. Do you understand me?" I nodded obediently.

"You are not a bobble head, answer me. NOW. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes," I whispered. You freed my neck from your hold and continued fucking me. You felt so good inside me. Hard. Hot. Throbbing. I could feel you pulsating in me, making me drip for you. Again, it was too much pleasure for me to handle. Never had I felt anything like this. Never had I been fucked so thoroughly.

I braced myself on your shoulders. My nails digging into you shoulder blades, your mouth on my tits. I wrapped my legs around you, pulling you to me. I needed to feel more of you. I needed to be so close that I wouldn't know where I ended and you began, but you jerked away from me again.

Again, I did something wrong.

You ran your hands down my legs, unhooking my feet from around you. Placing you hands on my knees, you wrenched them open. "I want your legs open completely for me," you demanded. I felt the fire start again, stronger than ever. I was close.

I braced myself—instead—on the sink behind me, arching my back into you as you penetrated me deeper if that was possible. Fucking me endlessly, I was dying to touch you, to feel your body pressed to mine.

Your balls were hitting my ass hard and fast, further pushing me over the edge as you fucked me good and hard.

Just as I was about to cum, you pulled me into a hard, wanting, needy kiss, drowning my moans as I climaxed. You continued thrusting into me, finally spilling your hot seed inside me, sending me over the edge again.

We pulled away breathing hard, your body glistening with sweat. I hadn't realized when you lost your shirt.

Pulling out of me, you reached for your shirt. Putting it back on, buttoning it up, tucking it in and redoing you pants. You turned to walk out the door, "Edward," I called to you. You had already begun to open the door; you turned your head slightly to acknowledge me.

"Yes, love?"

"My panties. I need them back." You closed the door back, turning to me. Your hand rubbed up my inner thigh, finding what it was searching for. Pulling your hand out, you wiped my juices against my lips and kissed it off, sucking on my bottom lip until I whimpered.

"I told you, I want to keep them as a souvenir. Besides, I want to be able to smell your sweetness all through the night." And with that, you left without another word.

I tried to pull myself together as much as I could before rejoining you and the rest of our friends. As I stepped into the dinning room, no one looked up. Apparently they hadn't missed us all that time, still arguing—this time about actors and actresses that played in the dumb movies we loved.

Time passed and everyone finally fell into comfortable conversation. "Who wants dessert?"

"You know I do."

"Yeah, something has smelled so sweet. What'd you make?"

"Hmmm. It doesn't matter what she made. You know anything that smells that sweet has to taste delicious!" you commented.


I looked up from the rim of my glasses closing my notebook that doubled as a part-time journal. Dr. Vaughn had passed out these black and white marble notebooks and asked us to write in them daily for class and turn them into his box on Fridays and he'd return them on our Monday meetings. Anything we didn't want him to read, we were instructed to fold, but I left everything unfolded.

This class was one that I hadn't expected to be so interesting. Unlike the other courses, this one lasted all year and was categorized under poetry/philosophy and listed as creative writing, but I came to realize that this course was in a class of its own.

I let my eyes sweep toward him. He sat in the back of the auditorium near the top. His eyes penetrating me the way I imagined in my writing. I wondered what he thought about my writing. Not just the writing, but the content it held and how closely related it could be to him.

Our class size was just north of a hundred and far too many students for our professor to go through every class meeting. And I only hope he didn't realize I was writing about him. I'd learned his name a couple of months ago as I walked past him one day in the courtyard. He was arguing with who I think was his brother. Apparently he hated being called Eddie.

Thank you, Ms. Swan. That was a particularly...enticing short story. Did you have anyone in mind for inspiration?" Dr. Vaughn asked.

It took me a minute to answer. I wasn't sure what to say. If I said yes, then one would assume there was someone in my life and I didn't want him to think that, but I also didn't want him to know that it was written about him. For him. My only other choice was no. But then I could be regarded as either a really horny virgin that seriously needed some dick in her life or a freak that couldn't get enough, so she wrote about it to get off during daylight hours.

I decided to give a very me type answer. "Possibly." Simple, to the point, and absolutely elusive in an irritating way.



So huge thanks to my wonderfully, awesomely, great, famstastic—yes I know that's not technically a word, but it's me here—Beta MISTY!!!
I'd probably lose my head in confusion if it wasn't for her. And damn if she doesn't know it.

Anywho, I hope you liked it.
It was a super fun write, even though I was sick when I did it, I still enjoyed writing it and there'll be more if you like.
Just say the word and it'll be there…wow. That line was so Jackson Five, right?

Thank you a million Orange baby dinos!
So cute,