I wrote this entry for Nina's DILF contest. Thanks to Ninapolitan for this FUN contest!

A very special thank you to my beta-licious beta, Dizzygrl28. You make my words sparkle!

This is the usual sad realization that I do not own these fake people, SM does. It's a good thing that they're fake so I can make them do crazy, magical things.

I . Want. A. DILFward. Maybe for Christmas... If I'm a good girl?


CH1- Ink & Ivory

I hurried around my fourth grade classroom, trying to clean up the fucking war zone of a mess my students had left in their wake. Humming to myself, I worked to right the disaster area before my meeting with one of my student's parents.

There was nothing I loved more than teaching and music. Teaching music had always been my dream, and now, I was living that dream- in paradise. Florida got a bad rap for being hot and sticky, but to live and work so close to the ocean- where the sea breezes tempered the heat- was fucking paradise.

I'd moved here to be nearer to my mom and her husband, Phil, the "Golden Boy" of the Major Leagues. Renee had suggested the change of scenery and climate after I'd completed my Masters. I was more than ready for a change from the constant rain after ten years of living out in Washington State with Charlie, my dad. I'd moved there for high school and I liked being close to him. The decision to attend the University of Washington, so we could still be within driving distance of one another, was a good one, but I was so over the damn rain. Seriously, it's never ending.

Pausing by the baby grand piano that was my pride and joy, donated by my generous show off of a step-father, I ran my fingers down the keys and the sound filled the room. My eyes wandered to the view out the window as the notes faded. Today was a typical northeast Florida day. I couldn't imagine anyone who wouldn't fucking love a place where 300 of the 365 days of the year could be spent lounging on the beach. I lived, worked, and played within walking distance of the pink beaches in Ponte Vedra. I wouldn't have pegged me for the beach bimbo type, and I'm not, but you know what they say, "Life's a beach."

What I didn't love was damned parent teacher meetings. I strongly disliked them. Hell, I fucking hated them. It's my least favorite part of being a teacher. Most of the time they were requested for less than pleasant reasons, and this was one of those godforsaken times.

It was my third parent teacher meeting in four days. I had dubbed this the week from hell thanks to a little incident that took place between three of my students on Monday, and I was anxious to get this last meeting taken care of and behind me so I could begin a long weekend. It had been a week of parents who all thought their babies were angels who could do no fucking wrong, and each one thought their child was more talented than the next. These breeders had a way of draining the life from you. At least my next and final meeting would revolve around one of my most talented students, Masen Cullen; although I called the meeting because he'd been misbehaving, it wouldn't be quite as miserable as the others.

I need a vacation so damn badly. Not so much from my students, but from their fucking parents! I'm so going for a long ride on the way home.

My newest toy waited in the parking lot, delivered only yesterday, and I couldn't wait until the weekend to ride the blue custom Harley Softail, so I had ridden it to school today. As I often did when I rode my last bike to work, I had worn comfortable clothes and brought more professional clothes in my bag. Downey wrinkle release was my best friend. No, seriously, I don't fucking iron. Anything.

There was nothing like riding a well built motorcycle.

Except riding well built man...

I moaned and shook my head at the thought. That just proved that I needed to get out and have some fun. All work and no play made Bella a horny girl.

Heading back to my desk, I hummed a song that I'd heard on my iPod on the way into school this morning, and grinned at the inappropriateness of the song choice. I didn't think the administration would appreciate me singing Ciara's song "Love Sex Magic" even if I was the head of the damn Music Department, so I edited the lyrics a bit as I stooped to toss the trash I had collected into the garbage can, shaking my ass a little. They came out more like, "Love and Hmm and Magic".


I was so engrossed in the song, wishing I was somewhere other than this classroom and getting ready for this meeting, that I didn't realize the time, nor did I notice anyone enter the room.

I heard a throat clear in the doorway behind me, and my head shot up- damn, caught. I righted myself and turned to see my student, Masen, and the most amazingly god-like man I had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

How have you never seen this man before? We're in what, the seventh week of school now? Damn.

He was fucking beautiful. All tall and muscled, with messy bronze hair and mesmerizing green eyes. He was dressed in faded jeans, a t-shirt, and ratty chucks. My eyes grazed the ink that decorated his forearms and followed their liquid lines up to where they disappeared under the short sleeves of his dark shirt. My fingers twitched, urging my hands to follow their path to their end, but I held them to my sides. Oranges, greens, blues, and reds blended together and became beautiful images that I could only imagine held deep symbolic meaning for their bearer. The colors and lines only enhanced his beauty.

My heart beat quickened as I looked, but didn't see, a wedding ring.

Thank you, sweet baby Jeebus.

Not that it meant he was available. What I did see was the massive bulge straining against his button fly. Was this Masen's father? He looked so young. Or maybe, if I was lucky, this was his horny older brother.

My gaze quickly swept down his perfect form and back up again, settling on eyes so green they took my breath away. For a moment I was frozen where I stood.

Chill Swan. Down girl! Get it together sister! Professionalism, remember? I don't think eye fucking this man would be considered very professional.

I composed myself, and smiling warmly, I strode toward Masen and his own personal flesh-god.

"Hi there, Masen. It feels like I just saw you!" I teased the little boy. I really liked this kid, and the positive outcome of this meeting was very important to me. He had a lot of potential, but his recent behavior had shown me that he was in need of some extra attention.

"Because you did just see me, Ms. Swan! School just let out! You can be so corny sometimes." Masen smiled and looked down at his feet, his hands fidgeting with the straps on his back pack.

"Ahh, but that's why you love me!" His head flew up and something like panic or surprise flashed in his eyes. Did all nine year old boys really think they were the only ones to have crushes on their teachers?

I gently tousled his shaggy bronze hair. The shade almost matched that of the man-god that stood beside him, except Masen's locks had been kissed by the sun at the tips. Masen relaxed, gave me a sweet grin, and then looked up at the man beside him. I noticed that this man had not made a sound since first clearing his throat.

I also noticed him taking a long look at me.

Ahhh, but do you like what you see?

Self consciously, I brushed my waist-long brown hair off my shoulders and it fell down my back in soft curls. My hand smoothed and dusted my skirt and blouse, and I shifted under his gaze as it moved slowly, following the path of my hands over my curves. I was suddenly glad I had decided to wear this particular combination today; a dark grey pencil skirt with pleats in the back that hugged me in all the right places, and a deep blue sheer top with tiny polka-dots. The cap sleeves and ruffled neckline of the blouse were feminine, yet professional, and the sheer fabric made it a little sexy. When he took in my heels I noticed his eyes grow wider, and I saw something flash behind them. It was his turn to shift uncomfortably, and I took the opportunity to introduce myself.

"Hello. My name is Bella Swan. I'm Masen's teacher. You must be his...?"

I knew better than to assume in this day and age. Was he Masen's dad? His brother? Uncle? Nanny? Father's partner?

Oh, please, please, please don't let him be gay...

"Father. I'm his dad, Edward Cullen. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Swan. Masen speaks very highly of you, and often."

He playfully punched his son in the arm and flashed a crooked smile. Masen was standing there in shocked horror. Apparently all nine year old boys did think they were the only ones with a teacher crush. He was so cute and looked so much like his dad, even down to his well worn chucks.

I was a little surprised at the sound of his voice; it was smooth, like sex on satin sheets. I wouldn't have expected such velvet and refined speech from the scruffy, tattooed form before me, and it was almost too much to stand. So, I invited him to have a seat.

"Masen, why don't you go to the library and get a head start on your homework. Your dad and I will have a little chat and then when we're done we'll come down and get you, okay?"

Masen nodded in agreement and started for the door and then stopped. He turned back to his father and extended a fist to him. Edward, er- Mr. Cullen, returned the gesture and fist bumped his young clone.

I watched the back of Mini Me's bag as he left, and I motioned for Mr. Cullen to take a seat in a chair I had placed near my desk at the front of the room, fighting with every ounce of my strength to keep from straddling him when he sat. This was going to be an interesting P/T meeting, for sure.

My pulse quickened at the thought of being alone with the bulge. An image of being crushed in his arms; the several days old scruff along his jaw line scratching my sensitive skin flashed through my mind.

DILF. He is so my "Dad I'd Like to Fuck". Again and again and again...

My tongue swept across my lips as I imagined running it along his neck and licking him properly.

Just shove your tongue down his throat and be done with it. Damn, a hot man walks into my classroom and I'm suddenly Super Nympho! Well, I guess it'd be one way to make a big first impression.

The thought reminded me of another first impression that was recently made, but not by me, but rather by Mr. Mike "Fucker" Newton, Mikey's dad. He too had come in for a P/T meeting just yesterday, reeking of cheap cologne and stale cigarette smoke. From the moment that man walked in my classroom I had the creeps. Unlike Masen, I wouldn't let Mikey out of my sight during our meeting for fear of what Mr. Newton was sure to suggest. Spewton, as I had started calling him since yesterday, had come on fast and hard, and I couldn't get away fast enough. He had his hands all over me, promising me to "Rock my world," as he put it. And all in front of his kid!

Sick fucker.

After several polite, yet unsuccessful, attempts at trying to put him in his place, I decided to handle the situation in a way that would make my father proud. All those self defense classes he'd insisted I take paid off. I took the very sharp and very pointy heel of my stiletto and brought it down squarely on his big, fat toe. He screamed like a little twat and hopped around holding his throbbing foot in his hand. I made one last attempt at being polite.

"Mr. Newton, that is a warning. You may have a seat and act like an adult for the remainder of this meeting, or you can find out what else I can skewer with these 'sexy ass heels', as you referred to them as. For the record, the body part I have in mind is a bit further north of your big toe."

With that, he sat wide eyed and whimpering, rubbing his toe for the next eight minutes and twenty-three seconds. Yes, I timed it. His only input was to nod and murmur an "uh-huh," or a "yes, ma'am". I suggested that he send his equally unlikeable bitch of a wife, Lauren, the next time I requested a parent-teacher meeting. While that would be a miserable experience as well, I wouldn't be in danger of being groped! At least I hoped not; she was married to that dip shit. Who knew what kinda nastiness they indulged in. I tried to shake off the horrible memory of that disgusting Spewton.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, there. Just the thought of him makes my skin crawl, and if Mikey doesn't straighten out he'll be just like his fucked up father!

The thought made me shiver.

Mr. Cullen and I settled in for our meeting. I wanted this to be as brief and to the point as possible. I had rays to catch, a new bike to ride, and- even though it was a holiday weekend, papers to grade. Not to mention that, even sitting, this man's…, uh… manhood was very noticeable and I felt my body reacting to the thought of what he was capable of doing with that impressive display.

You've lost it, perv. I need to get some soon before I start taking my student's fathers by force. I can't even remember the last time my lady parts came out to play!

I once again shook off the overwhelming desire to leap from my chair, straddle him on his, and make this meeting really productive.

Instead I softly cleared my throat, smiled warmly, and got to the point of our meeting.

"Mr. Cullen, thanks for agreeing to meet with me today. It's nice to meet at least one of the people responsible for raising Masen. He's an amazing kid, you know?"

"Thank you, Ms. Swan. Please call me Edward. He's is pretty amazing, but something tells me that you didn't just call me in here to tell me how wonderful my son is. You'd mentioned in your message something about an 'incident' that occurred on Monday. It was very cryptic."

"Mr. Cull... I mean, Edward. You're right, I asked to meet with you because I wanted to make you aware of what took place and handle it as you and your wife saw best to."

I paused to gauge his reaction. He remained calm, but he raised his eyebrows curiously.

I continued, "Masen and two of his friends, Mikey Newton and Josh Crowley, were in the back of the room Monday just before the start of class. I had asked everyone to have a seat so class could begin. They all headed to their seats, but there was a little scuffle between the boys. I didn't see what happened, but I heard the result. From what information I can get from the boys, it seems they were goofing off and one of the other boys, Mikey, tweaked Mason's nipple and yelled, 'Purple Nurple!' Masen's reaction surprised me with the colorful shades of his vocabulary.

"I know that he was only reacting to the situation, but it's his language that I'd like to talk to you about. I see a lot of raw talent and potential in your son, but we all have to learn that certain words are impolite and not acceptable to use during school hours." Again I paused, both to give him a chance to respond, and also to gather my thoughts.

When I looked over at Edward he had an unbelievably sexy half smirk on his face, seemingly amused that I was trying to tell him that his son had a potty mouth. He shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands in front of him- just inches from my knee. I shifted a little in my seat when my body reacted to the thought of him being close enough to extend one of those long, slender fingers and brush it against my leg. Edward chuckled.

"Are you trying to tell me that my son was using inappropriate language in your classroom? Would you mind telling me exactly what was said?" His voice was heavy as he asked me to repeat Masen's outburst.

So, he wants to hear me say dirty words? Fine.

I wasn't a prude, and I was about to make sure that he knew that. I lifted my chin, just enough to be able to look him straight in the eye, and recounted the incident.

"No, of course I don't. Masen told Mikey to, 'Keep your hands off my tittie's,' and then when Mikey teased Masen and told him that he knew that he liked his, 'tittie's tweaked,' that's when Masen told them both to, 'Fuck off'."

Edward's face flashed in shock for just a moment and then broke into a huge smile as laughter roared from his chest. I wasn't sure if I was shocked at Masen's words or my retelling of them.

"Masen said that, huh?"

I felt my brow furrow in disappointment, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

What's so damn funny about your nine year old son telling his classmates to F-off?

"Yes, he did, and while he wasn't the only one at fault, he was the one who resorted to using fowl foul language in my classroom. I'm not a prude, Mr. Cullen..."

"Edward." The smooth tone of his voice from earlier was gone; it flashed dark and gravelly.

Did he just growl at me? For the love of Donna Summer! This man is hot! Have mercy...

"Uh, Edward, I have been known to use a foul word or two hundred myself, but there's a time and a place for everything, and personally, I don't think a nine year old should be using that type of language anywhere."

Edward had composed himself, and when he spoke his voice was once again silky and controlled.

"Ms. Swan, may I call you Bella?"

I had to think about that for a second. We were both adults, why not? The idea of him saying my name caused me to unconsciously uncross and then re-cross my legs in the opposite direction. His eyes darted towards the movement and then back to my eyes.

"Of course. Please, call me Bella." It sounded more like a plea than permission.

"Fine then, Bella. Masen came home Monday and told me about what took place. He was very embarrassed and disappointed in himself for having upset you. He all but put himself on restriction. Of course when his grandmother heard of the matter she gave him the full run down on what was and was not acceptable to say in public. She also assured him that if she ever heard him use that sort of language again before he was old enough to vote, that she would introduce him to the joys of liquid soap on his tongue. Needless to say, the matter has been handled and Masen wanted to wait until our meeting to tell you himself that he was sorry for what took place. And for the record, there is no Mrs. Edward Cullen. Masen's mother is not a part of our lives."

Edward sat back in his chair, glancing at the piano positioned in the corner of the room and then back to me. Waiting for my response, his eyes moved over my hands, and up my arms, following the line that led to my chest and then moving further up, settling on my mouth. I shuttered at his perusal and squirmed under his intense gaze. I was fucking thankful that I was sitting and hoped there wouldn't be a wet spot on the back of my skirt the next time I stood up.

"Um, well, it's good to hear that Masen talked to you about this on his own. I've always been impressed with his maturity. I believe that may have been why I was so shocked to hear him speak that way. I'm sure we won't have a repeat of last Monday."

I was pleased to hear about Masen telling his family about Monday, but even more pleased to hear that there was no wifey in the picture.

That doesn't mean he isn't seeing someone though, Ms. Eager Beaver. Ugh! What am I doing? I should be focused on getting through this meeting, not getting into this man's extremely tight and yummy pants!

Glancing down at the notes I had made for this meeting, I continued, "I had also wanted to talk to you about Masen's musical studies. You know, he has some of the most inherent musical talent I have come across yet. He amazes me each time he touches an instrument. His strongest are the piano and guitar, but we've been giving him other instruments to experiment with as well. He's an impressive individual, Edward; you should be very proud of him."

"I am very proud of my son, and I have to confess that he probably picked up his less than desirable language from his Uncle Emmett. My brother is a little rough around the edges and tends to overuse crass language around Masen. He has a good heart, but a filthy mouth. Our extended family is very close, so Masen spends a lot of time surrounded by my parents, brothers, and sisters. I'm guessing Emmett's where he learned his most colorful words. Thankfully he has been able to pick up other, more acceptable forms of expression from his other family members."

I already liked this Emmett character. I did love a good swear fest, just maybe not in my classroom, and definitely not coming from the mouth of my nine year old student.

"It seems like Masen's talent is genetic. It would be interesting to see if anyone else in the family possessed hidden talents."

As soon as the words were out my mouth I knew the mistake I'd made. I blushed at the thought that crossed my mind of Edward showing me all the ways he was talented. Fuck, I haven't blushed since I was a virgin.

Apparently Edward caught the unintended double meaning of my words. He was trying desperately to keep from laughing at what I said, only to snort in the process. Clearing his voice in an effort to try to cover up his laughter, he responded, "Yes that would be very interesting."

I couldn't help myself and asked him innocently, "Do you have any hidden talents, Edward?"

To his credit he answered without cracking a smile, "I don't know that they are hidden, but I do play the piano and the guitar. I taught Masen to play."

Looking down at his hands, now resting on his thighs, I could imagine his fingers dancing over the keys of a Grand piano, or plucking the strings of a perfectly tuned guitar. A shudder shot through my body at the thought of what else his fingers could dance over and pluck.

"Would you play for me sometime?"

For the second time in ten years, not to mention ten minutes, I blushed crimson red. I didn't even have the chance bring up the second reason for our meeting; the opportunity to suggest that Masen might benefit from additional private instruction.

He looked at me thoughtfully and rose from his seat without warning, his fingers brushing against my knee as he stood. I wasn't sure if the touch was accidental, but it sent a shock of electricity through me and left every part of me begging for more of his touch. He walked over to my piano, and casting a look over his shoulder at me, he said, "As you wish."

Ugh! I am so many shades of wrong! I think I may have just had a mini "O" when he touched me! God I hope he touches me again! And did he just quote "Princess Bride"? Fuck me!

Edward's hand softly caressed the side of the instrument as he walked around it. In one fluid movement, he sat on the bench and placed his hands gently on the keys. I couldn't see his hands from where I sat, and I really wanted to see this man's hands on my piano. As he coaxed the first notes from the keys, I moved to perch on a nearby student's desk. I sat on the desktop and propped my feet up on the seat, chuckling out loud when the familiar sounds of "Claire de Lune" filled the room.

"Seriously?" My eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"What? Do you mind telling me what is so humorous about Debussy?"

"Oh. Nothing. It's just... a bit overdone, that's all. You play it well, though. You have good form and technique."

I tried not to snicker. I was enjoying teasing him a little, and besides, I'd stopped counting the number of times I'd heard that piece played for auditions and concert pieces.

Did he really expect to impress the Director of the Music Department with fucking "Clair de Lune"? He does have amazing presence and style, though. I can see where Masen gets his talent from.

He smiled a devious grin, and my heart skipped a beat.

The melody transitioned into a complicated arrangement of notes and rests. It was one of the most beautiful pieces I'd ever heard, almost bringing tears to my pathetic eyes. The emotion dripped down from his hands onto the ivory. It was at that moment that I found myself overwhelmingly jealous of that piano. I began thinking of ways to get his hands on me. My eyes never left his hands, but from the corner of my sight I could see him staring at me watching him. When he finished playing I took a deep breath and softy cleared my throat.

"That was singularly the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. I don't recognize it. Who is the composer and what is it called?"

Jeebus, Swan, emo much?

"Masen." His one word reply brought my focus back to him, and I was shocked.

"Masen wrote that?!"

"No, no. I did and it is entitled 'Masen'. I composed it when he was born."

"Okay, now I'm impressed."

It was his turn to chuckle.

"Please, don't be. I've been playing for a long time. Would you please play for me?"

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. Then in a more teasing tone he said, "I showed you mine, will you show me yours, Bella?"

I'd been playing for many a year myself, and I am not shy about playing in front of strangers. Hell, I wasn't named the head of the Music Department solely for the way my ass looked in a skirt; although, it did look pretty damn amazing today, if I do say so myself.

He was openly flirting with me now, and the teacher's handbook be damned, I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to flirt with this fuckhot man.

"I'd love to show you mine, Mr. Cullen. I mean, Edward."

I smiled coyly as I moved from the desk and took the four steps to the piano bench. The silence hung in the room like fog in a forest as I stepped between the keys and the bench, forcing him to slide over to the right or be sat on. I was disappointed that I wouldn't be sitting in his lap for my performance.

Settling for just sitting next to him, I began playing my favorite piece by Vivaldi: the piano arrangement of Mandolin Concerto in C Major. Fuck yeah, I was showing off, but he did ask to see mine. I watched his hands while he was playing, a habit I picked up from years of teaching, but as I played, he was watching me and studying my face as I enjoyed the music.

I had expected him to make some sort of comment when I'd finished, maybe a smart ass remark about my being a showoff, but he surprised me by gathering my hand in his, reverently turning it over and smoothing my fingers open. Then his head dipped down and he pressed his lips to my palm.

The touch of his kiss shot through my hand, up my arm, and straight to my chest. It found its mark on my heart, which began to beat wildly, so furiously that I felt he must have heard it trying to bust through my ribs and into his pants. His touch was light, purposeful. His other hand, with its long beautiful fingers, pressed flat against my breast, feeling where my heart roared beneath it.

His eyes never left mine, and he planted a second kiss on the inside of the wrist he still held. The fire that threatened to rage inside began to burn brighter, and I was determined that his third kiss would be met by my lips. I slipped my hand from his and my fingertips brushed along his arm, finally tracing the lines embedded in his skin. My hands seemed to move on their own, making a path upward and came coming to rest on either side of his face. I knew this was not my best fucking idea ever, but I was beyond thinking about good versus not so good. Leaning in, I pressed my mouth to his. He responded instantly to my advances and returned my kiss. His hand that was covering my chest shifted to hungrily cup my breast, as my hands snaked around his neck. I pulled him closer, my hands tangling in his bronze hair.

So soft.

Edward pulled back, breaking our kiss, and looked at me for a brief moment, gauging my response before crashing back into me. It was rough and primal, and the air was filled with our quiet moans and pleas for more. Our hands flew over each other as we struggled to remove the other's shirt. I made fast work of his t-shirt and threw it back over my shoulder. I'd thought he was beautiful fully clothed, but he was fucking magnificent as he sat before me without his shirt. The ink I was able to see before continued up his arms in full sleeves, and the images bled together as they spread across his chest. They met in the middle where the name "Masen" arched across his entire chest in all caps and old English text. I took a moment, studying the images he had chosen to mark his body with forever, and in that instant I hoped I'd someday hear the stories behind his choices.

The air around us was charged and punctuated by our breathing as we touched, our fingers pushing one another further into passion.

Edward had my blouse unbuttoned and pulled it down my arms, tossing it to the side, only to be faced with the matching camisole beneath it. He groaned in frustration. Taking pity on him, I pulled the flimsy material over my head, my curls cascading down my bare back and over my shoulders. The camisole joined my blouse in a heap.

A smile spread across his lips as he watched the source of his frustrations vanish. The smile changed and darkened when he turned to see me sitting next to him in my bra and skirt. In an instant his hands were on my hips, lifting me and sitting me down hard on the keys. The sound of random notes being played at the same time filled the room, joining our pants and moans in a sonata of passion as our hands explored, groped, teased, and caressed each other.

His hands ran up my legs, bunching my skirt up around my thighs, continuing up along my sides where they finally cupped my breasts, causing me to moan and pull him towards me. He pulled the straps of my black lace bra down off my shoulders and freed the soft tissue of my breasts from the sexy lingerie I'd chosen to wear this morning. It was his turn to moan.

"God, Bella, you're perfect."

The bra was off in an instant and resting somewhere on the floor of my classroom with the rest my other clothing. Edward stood and pressed his bare chest to mine, the warmth from his skin spreading throughout my body. Our personal symphony still playing as the sounds of the piano sang out each time my weight shifted. He pushed and pulled my skirt up around my hips, his mouth, hot and breathy, on my skin as he licked and nipped at my breasts. I felt it when he found the waist of my matching lace thong. It was in that moment we both heard something outside the door.

Gasping, I pulled him to me like a shield as we froze in place, listening for what was on the other side. After a few moments of silence we realized that it was nothing, but Edward, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, strode over to the door and turned the lock with a click, and then moved to do the same to the other door as well. Retuning to me, he had the look of a predator.

"Where were we?"

His hands slid back to their position around my thong and began to pull it down. His kisses were deep and penetrating, each thrust of his tongue pushing me further over the edge of reason, but I knew this was wrong and I tried to tell him so in between the incredible tongue-fuck he was giving me.

"Edward... Edward. Edward! We. Have. To. Stop. Ugh!"

"What? Why? You want to stop?"

"Fuck, no, I don't want to stop, but this isn't right!"

Edward never stopped moving his hands and his tongue continued sliding along my breasts and skin. He wasn't making stopping this train easy.

"Not right? Bella, you can't tell me you don't feel that electricity each time we touch. Or kiss. Or lick. This is every kind of right."

"Edward, I'm your son's teacher, dammit! This is twelve shades of wrong! I can't be having hot piano sex with my student's parent. In my fucking classroom. It's not ethical."

He grabbed my hips and dragged me off the piano and onto his lap. Finally, I was in this glorious man's lap!

"There, now you're not on the piano, better?" Edward began kissing me again, and his hips began to shift and lift as he worked to generate friction where our bodies met. My own body mimicked his movements, the buttons on his jeans rubbing in all the right places, and I began composing the thank you letter in my head that I'd be writing later...

Dear Levi Strauss, I just wanted to fucking thank you for the genius that is the button fly jean. You may never know what it has done for the dry hump...

I felt him responding with each grind and movement, and my "Goodie Two Shoes" teacher side was warring with my "Naughty" Bella side. Goodie Two Shoes tried one last time to reason with him. I really hated that bitch sometimes.

"Edward, the bench isn't much better than the piano keys." I smiled against his kisses. "We're still in my classroom, and you are still the father of one of my students."

My last attempt at restraint was punctuated with pants as his hands and mouth did things my body most definitely didn't want him to stop doing. He apparently didn't want to stop either, and his response was immediate. The passion had lifted the smooth, collected exterior revealing the side of him that I originally expected, with all the ink and rough edges.

"Fuck! So, I'll transfer Mason to another teacher or school."

"You can't do that! There isn't another Magnet Music Program in the county, and it's not fair to Masen. Edward, please listen!"

Despite Goodie Prude Shoes' efforts to calm things down, my hands had a mind of their own, touching, caressing, and scraping their nails up and down his muscled back, even grabbing his ass to pull him closer as he rocked under me.

"Fine, so I'll homeschool him, for fuck's sake! I want this, Bella! I want you! I know you want me too. You really want me to stop doing this...?"

Edward punctuated his question with a forceful thrust of his hips into mine.

Oh, please, no! Never stop doing that! Ever!

My body responded before my brain had time to recover from his movements, and my sex possessed hand reached down between us and rubbed along his length, feeling every inch of him. I gasped from how hard he felt under my grip. My traitorous hands continued to rub him, and his moaning grew louder, more insistent.

"Bella, I'm close, please?"

If he was close then I was at the edge of the cliff, and while my experiencing a big "O" wouldn't be noticeable to others, his would be.

He licked and sucked my nipple until it was puckered and almost painful, and I couldn't remember why I wanted him to stop.

Oh, yeah, because his son is waiting for you in the library. Because you are going to have to see this man again in a public setting. Because he's going to walk out of your classroom and through the halls with a massive stain on his crotch from you dry humping him on your piano!

I stood there on the "Cliffs of Release", or the "Cliffs of Insanity", depending on which voice I was going to listen to, and decided that I really liked extreme sports. So I leaned over and plucked my blouse from the floor. Edward moaned and looked confused, but too focused on not coming right there to question me. I grinned at the beautiful man under me and reassured him.

"It's okay, Edward, I've got this."

Making quick work of those sexy ass buttons, I released him from the denim that confined him and took him into my hand. His groan was loud and almost pained. I was grateful that he'd locked the door earlier.

"Bella, oh, God, your hands. Mmmmm. Fuck!"

I began to stroke and work him to release, still rocking over him and trying to find my own. I licked and kissed his lips, pushing, and urging him to touch me. Releasing his grip on my arms, one of his hands found my breast while the other moved under my skirt, between my legs. We both moaned as his fingers brushed against my wet heat, the sensation of his touch intense in its pleasure.

"Edward... Please!"

"Bella, you're so beautiful. And wet. Your hands feel so good on me. Don't stop."

His hands slid against my wet skin, and he hissed in a ragged breath at the feel of me. He had the fingers of a magician and a pianist. He had fucking magic piano fingers, and I finally had the chance to know what the piano must have felt as he coaxed the notes from within. I sung my own notes as he brought me closer and closer.

"Please, Edward, right there." I gasped. "Oh, Edward! You're hands are...fucking amazing!"

After a few minutes of "playing" each other, we moved to the edge of the cliff together, jumping off, and spiraling towards bliss as we came at the same moment. My favorite blouse had been sacrificed to save him from the embarrassing proof of our stolen time together. I collapsed against him, breathing hard and deep. The rise and fall of Edward's chest matched my gasps, and the sound of our breathing was the only noise that filled the room.

"Wow. That was..." I had no words. I refused to feel guilty for what we'd just shared, and as I looked into face his I saw the same determination in those clouded green eyes.

"Yeah, fucking amazing."

"Yeah." My forehead was pressed into his shoulder, allowing me to kiss and nibble his collar bone in post-coital bliss.

"Bella?" He whispered into my hair.

"Yes, Edward?"

"Just so you know... I plan on doing that again, many more times over, and in other places than this classroom."

"I fucking hope so, Mr. Cullen."


We collected our clothing that had been thrown around the room, and instead of putting my blouse back on, I walked to my desk where I had put my bag that held the shorts, tank top, and chucks that I'd worn on my ride to work this morning. Edward gave me a strange look, but I explained that I usually change after school for the ride home.

"I wouldn't have figured you for a chucks kind of girl, Ms. Swan."

"It's Bella, and I'd bet there's a lot you didn't figure me for... like being able to say 'fuck' and not blush."

"No, I didn't, but I can imagine what else you could do with that mouth of yours."

He pulled me to him and kissed me hard and quickly, tickling my sides as he did. I squealed and squirmed away, using my best teacher voice to admonish him.

"Mmmm. I am so hot for teacher!" Edward teased.

With that, Edward smacked my ass and I swatted his at his arm. We were already so comfortable with each other that it didn't feel like we had just met a little over an hour ago.

As we dressed, I shared my thoughts with Edward about Masen's potential to grow musically with a little special attention from a qualified instructor. I offered to suggest the names of a number of people I knew who would be able to help Masen.

I was surprised when he refused the list.

"That won't be necessary. I'm hoping that you would consider tutoring Masen yourself. I can imagine that you are a busy woman, but I believe that he would benefit best if he continued with your philosophy towards music. I wouldn't want to send him somewhere else only to confuse what he learns there with the progress you are making in class. Plus, I'd like to see more of you. Will you tutor Masen, Bella?"

Before I knew what I was doing, I was, in fact, agreeing to tutor Masen Cullen twice a week at his father's beachfront condo on Tuesdays and at my house, which also happened to be beachfront, on Thursdays. As it turned out we lived about seven minutes, give or take a few, from each other. A part of me wondered what else I was agreeing to. That thought had me fighting the urge to rip his clothes off and ravish him the way I was fucking dying to.

He stood behind me while I locked up my classroom, his hands sweetly resting on my hips and his face pressed into my hair. He took a deep breath and sighed when he let it out. His next words both touched and surprised me.

"Bella, I've waited a long time for you. You have no idea how long."

I turned to face him and looked both ways down the hall to be sure we were alone. Satisfied that it was just us, I kissed him deeply, acknowledging without words that while I didn't know, I understood.

We walked toward the library to get Masen, and I ached to reach out and hold his hand, to touch him as we passed through the halls, but settled for our arms brushing against each other and stealing knowing glances.

Edward gave his son the opportunity to apologize for Monday. Masen was so sweet, and I told him how proud I was of his progress in class so far, reminding him that I expected a lot of wonderful things from him.

We filed out to the parking lot and told "Little" Cullen about the tutoring sessions. He was ecstatic at the idea of having extra time with his "favorite teacher". I was ecstatic about seeing Mr. Edward "Hot Ass" Cullen on a bi-weekly basis. Or more.

Edward asked me where my car was, and I chuckled as I motioned to my blue Harley that was parked next to a beautiful red chopper. His gaze followed where I pointed and his head quickly snapped back to meet my eyes.

"You ride? I would have never guessed."

"Again, Mr. Cullen, there is so much about me you couldn't have guessed."

He handed Masen an adorable little red helmet that had been hanging from one of the handle bars and grabbed a second one that matched it exactly. He looked me up and down before placing a sweet kiss on my cheek.

"Then I suppose I'll need to spend a great deal of time learning all about the real you, Bella."

Grinning ear to ear, I put my own helmet on, stashed my gear in my saddle bags, and climbed on my bike. Edward helped Shorty onto the chopper and then straddled the bike himself. He grinned in that sexy half smirk I loved, and revved the engine playfully.

I revved my bike in response and called out, "Hold on tight, big guy. It looks like it's going to be a wild ride!"

"Don't worry, Ms. Swan, I know how to ride when Dad's driving. He's a good driver; it's Uncle Emmett that scares me." Masen's smile was so much like his father's.

I grinned at Masen's response and winked at him.

"Ahhh. Well, I was talking to your dad. He's in for the ride of his life."


A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing my little fic! A special thanks to all of you who voted for Ride in Nina's D.I.L.F. Contest! It was a lot of fun and a joy to participate in that contest!

Are you ready for chapter 2? Here, ya go...