TSA Hot Lemon Contest
Liquor? I Don't Even Know Her!
Summary: Just another drab Thursday, or so he thought...
AH Edward+Bella Rated M for language & sexual content.
Written for the TSA Hot Lemon Contest
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight; all of its respective characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
Ugh. Fucking Thursday. Moaning with all the disdain that I can be bothered to muster, I roll over and slam my hand against the alarm that is blaring in my right ear. Fuck that hurts, my hand is now stinging, yet another reminder of the awful day ahead. Thursdays are the worst - my least favorite of days. But because I do not want to fail out of high school my senior year, and I only have ten minutes before Jasper shows up, I drag my ass out of bed.
No time for a shower, which blows because I could probably really use one. Grimacing at my fucking reflection, I scrub my face and run some water through my hair. That will have to do. I spit out a mouthful of toothpaste and flash a wide smile at myself. At least my teeth are white - whatever - the chicks dig me anyway, I could be fucking Pig Pen and they would be all over my dick.
A quick spray of my favorite Axe cologne across my chest and I am good to go. Back in my room, I throw on the first shirt I grab from my drawer and pull my jeans onto my hips. They hang off of me, but girls like that shit so I don't think about putting on a belt. I slip my feet into my Nikes, then grab my wallet and backpack.
I have just enough time to grab a pop tart and my letterman jacket before Jazz is honking obnoxiously from his Jeep. I roll my eyes at him as I jog out to the car because the douche won't stop honking until I'm in my seat.
"You know, I have fucking neighbors asswipe."
Taking a loud slurp from the o.j. that he obviously stopped at McDonalds for this morning, but failed to get me anything - dick, he only laughs. His wheels squeal against the pavement when he pulls away from the curb. "You could always drive yourself to school and then - oh, oh, wait… no you can't. That's right you're the loser with no car."
My fist meets squarely with his shoulder, my knuckles clip the bone when it connects, that shit hurts, but it hurt him more. He howls, and glares and rubs his sore spot. Fucking baby.
"Fuck you; you know I'm saving for Marylou."
He chokes on his orange juice. "E, man, I told you to stop fucking calling it that, it's creepy."
"It is not creepy. Guys name their cars all the time."
"Uh, yeah, but A - a car that actual exists; as in they already own it, not just have wet dreams about it. And B - they name it something like Tina, or Jennifer - not Marylou, where the fuck did you get that name anyway?"
I shrug; he doesn't need to fucking know it's from a book I read. Fuck him; I don't owe him any explanations.
"I like it, and the car does exist. Old man Black promised to hold onto it for me as long as I can pay for it by the summer."
I could have a car if I wanted. My dad practically had a coronary when I told him I didn't want the brand new Volvo he had plated on a silver platter for me on my 18th birthday. Truthfully, I didn't deserve it, but he thought I did. I didn't. I was a shithead, the worst kind of kid - jock, spoiled rotten, cocky, whatever, you name the vile adjective and I'm sure it applies. I got in trouble constantly as a kid, but my dad always had a way of making it go away. I was cool with that until the end of last year when I found out I might not graduate. Pops couldn't make my GPA magically improve itself, so I had to take matters into my own hands.
It was a bit of an awakening, I didn't even have a license because I didn't pass drivers ed. I had to take summer classes to even come close to graduating, so I was able to re-take the class. My stupid Dad was so proud, he drove me over to the lot on my birthday and said, "Pick one." I couldn't, something inside me - a conscience or whatever-the-fuck - told me I should keep doing for me; not fall back into letting others hand things to me. That was what I told the old man at least, and the look on his face - if he wasn't so crushed, I would have laughed, it was almost comical. However, I'm not soulless, I saw he was upset. The truth was it wasn't the car I wanted anyway.
One of the classes I took over the summer for course credits was auto shop. Mr. Black was the teacher, and I guess he was pretty cool. He brought in an old Camaro, a '69. Remember that car in fucking Better off Dead? Yeah it was that motherfucking car. Fucking sex on wheels.
We spent the summer rebuilding it, and the school was going to sell it as a fundraiser for new equipment or some shit. I fell in love with that fucking thing. Not only have I put my own sweat and hard work into it, but God - that fucking car is hot. I need it. I begged Mr. Black, asking him to let me buy it, but since I had made such a big deal to my Dad about doing it myself, I had no money. Sometimes I don't think shit through, I'm not gonna lie.
I guess Mr. Black is really cool 'cause he agreed to keep the car in shop class and let kids work on it, put some finishing touches on it he had said. He gave me nine months - but that meant I had to get a job. That brings me back to why I hate Thursdays - work. I went to school for two hours and then spent the rest of my day in the Library making $6.50 an hour to shelve books. Pathetic, I know. In my defense, it is hard as fuck to find a job in such a small ass town, and the Library was the best I could do. It is mid-way through the year, and I had just under a thousand bucks sitting in the bank, I needed seven hundred more to buy Marylou.
I spent most of my afternoons in the shop room, tuning her up and polishing her paint. She was beautiful, and I was no doubt unconditionally and irrevocably in love. But there was no way in hell I was gushing about it like that to this prick.
"Have you seen the girls that come down to the shop room and hover over me while I'm working on that car?"
Jazz grins and shakes his head, taking another loud sip of his o.j. - prick. I tear open my cold pop tart and bite into it, strawberry, figures, I hate strawberry, "Well they practically hump the thing and eye fuck me while they're doing it."
He stares, blank faced.
"It's a chick magnet ya noob."
"Yeah I guess," he gives in. "Just don't tell 'em what you named it."
Another punch. I smile, satisfied; he groans, nursing his arm. His orange juice sits in the cup holder - not enough hands; I smile wider and toss my strawberry piece of shit out the window just as the school parking lot comes into view.
The walk from our school to the Library is quick. The two buildings practically share a parking lot, so getting there is no issue. Ever. Unfortunately. I stroll through the front door and straight back to the break room where I drop my backpack and jacket. When I turn around she's there, and I nearly trample her.
"Shit!" I mumble and jump back; effectively knocking into a freestanding metal shelf that holds various books and signs. Her eyes bug from her head like they always fucking do, her glasses sliding down on her nose, and she grips the collar of her shirt, gasping - like that shit'll do any good.
"I'm … I'm sorry," she murmurs. I can barely hear her over the residing clang from my heel hitting the base of the shelf; the metal digging into my skin.
"God damnit," I growl, biting into the side of my cheek so I don't scream at this chick.
"Edward, are you okay?"
I nod, keeping my fucking mouth shut so nothing too terrible comes out. Like - why the fuck are you so goddamn silent! Who sneaks up on people like that? But I can't say that shit to her because she's my boss, and I need my fucking job.
"I'm fine Bella," I say in an exhale, retaining my composure.
I turn, picking up a few books that fell to the floor. When I move to leave she is still standing there. Staring. Her eyes keep dropping to my shirt and she looks like she wants to say something but her damn hand clutches her collar again and she doesn't.
"Is there a problem?"
Her eyes snap to mine, she's like a fucking deer in headlights, you'd think I had asked her to strip naked for me; she looks absolutely shocked and horrified that I am speaking to her. Weirdo. It's not as if I never talk to her, but then I think that over and decide that maybe I don't ever talk to her. Whatever.
"Um, it's just - your, um… your shirt."
I look down, it's a shirt, it's black, it's got writing on it - what the hell is her problem? My face must ask the question because before I open my mouth she fumbles an explanation.
"It's just the back is a bit inappropriate, and well - I don't personally care, but … I mean there are small children, and…"
I take a second look at my shirt. My school day had been so short I never bothered to go to my locker and had kept my jacket on. It was my favorite Beastie Boy's concert tee - and then I remember - the back says GET OFF MY DICK all big and bold. Ha, that's why I fucking bought the fucker in the first place.
I stifle a smile, not wanting to laugh in my boss' face. "Do you want me to take it off?"
Her face goes white, ashen. For fucks sake, I wasn't saying right then and there - I hadn't even used my sexy voice. "No - no, that's fine, just stay in the stock rooms and in here for today," she says in a hurry and then turns, leaving before I can respond.
"Whatever, Bella," I mutter, grabbing my clipboard with the list of shit I have to do for the day.
Shelving books is out - thank fuck, which left me with a shipment of new books that had come in and needed to be added into the system. Using the back door, I walk through the utility corridor to the rear stock rooms. A huge pile of boxes sits in the middle of the floor, a hand held scanner resting on top of the mound.
Grabbing the scanner and the top box, I pull my box cutter from my jeans pocket and slice it open. A swell of new book smell hits me like a crashing wave and I smile instinctively, catching myself belatedly. Books are okay. They are alright. I fucking love books. I wouldn't tell anyone that though.
Setting to work, my mind wanders like it always does - that's what happens when you're performing a mindless task. I keep thinking about Bella and her stupid face. I honestly didn't mind working in the library, it wasn't too bad - and the books were a perk. I'd read more since I'd started working here than I probably ever had. It's Bella and her - her stupid face that always ruins my day. Ever since I started working here, she always looms. Granted she's my boss, I suppose she's paid to do that shit to an extent. And so I wrote it off at first, but it's reached creepy status.
She's a silent loomer, which makes it ten times worse; I don't always know when she's around. And when I do notice her she always gives me the same face - the same stupid face, with those big dumb doe eyes. It's surprise at first, and then it's like she's trying to read me or some shit. Well, I'm not a goddamn book, and I wish she'd knock that shit off.
She was just an odd one in general. She went to my high school, but graduated three years ago. I honestly didn't know that until another lady that works here told me; Sandra, an older woman. She's like a town gossip, she knows everything and is always trying to pump me for info on the high school kids, or tell me what's been going on in case I didn't know. She's like twice my age, and way too nosy for my taste. She's not bad though. We're kind of tight. We eat lunch together every Thursday. I may gossip like a teenager girl. Whatever.
She told me that Bella was only 18, which shocked the ever-loving shit out of me. But then when I thought about it, I could sort of remember her in school. Sort of. She moved to Forks my Freshmen year, but tested into the Senior class. Apparently she went off to some college, took extra courses and advanced shit and graduated with a degree in two years. I didn't think that shit really happened, that people really did that - but I guess they did. Or at least Bella did.
That I honestly don't get; why blow through your college experience? Isn't it supposed to be the best time of your life or some shit? It's just plain wrong. And then to work your ass off just to come back to Forks to be a librarian? Something's fucked about that.
I am used to being ogled; all the girls at school are always trying to tie me down, but I'm not looking for any added bullshit in my life. Girls are nothing but trouble, but they all look at me, stare, eye fuck me. Like I said, I'm used to that. The thing is, Bella doesn't look at me the same way the other girls do; it makes me uneasy.
I suddenly remember a conversation we had one day. It was short, but a conversation nonetheless - I guess I do talk to her. She asked me if peanut butter and jelly was my favorite sandwich, and it freaked me out that she noticed what I usually brought for lunch. I didn't tell her that though, I shrugged and pointed out that she liked the same. Her face got real red like a tomato and she left the room.
Then there are her glasses. Those damn things never stay up, she is constantly pushing them up the bridge of her nose. And isn't it kind of a stereo type for librarians to wear glasses? I mean, aren't girls all about busting through stereo types? Buy some fucking contacts or something.
And don't even get me started on her clothes. I am not fashion savvy, I'm not anywhere close to being a metro-sexual. I know nothing about girl's clothing; only when something catches my eye because it makes a chick look hot. Like Lauren's fuck me boots she wore today. Those things made her ass look edible.
One thing I do know - Bella dresses like my Nana's closet threw up on her. It is all florally patterns and shirts that buttoned up to her damn chin. The only time I ever saw her wear a skirt it was a floor length khaki skirt. Really? Even I know that's old lady attire now-a-days.
As odd ball as she is, I do find myself feeling badly for her sometimes. She's uncomfortably quiet, eats lunch alone most days, and all she seems to have is her job. She doesn't have any pictures of family on her desk, no pictures of a boyfriend or significant other. She never talks about going out or what she did over the weekends. She talks about books, changes she wants to make to the library, and that is it. She has recommended some pretty kick ass novels though. She seems to have a knack for it - always knows exactly what will grab my interest.
Two boxes down, and I realize I have been thinking about my boss for over an hour. That shit sends a shiver down my spine, and I physically shake. Stretching as I stand, my back pops in several spots. A break sounds like a good idea, but when I turn to head back to the break room she is standing there. The fuck -
"How's it going?" Her eyes stay glued to the floor when she speaks. I look down at it waiting for it to answer. When it doesn't I decide she was talking to me.
She glances up and it's those big stupid doe eyes leering at me from behind those librarian glasses. She waits, for what I have no fucking clue, but I stay there like an idiot. Most people would have pointed out her oddities by now, asked for them to stop, I don't know why I don't. Those brown eyes are trying to read me again, and it does something funny to my stomach. I think I might be sick. I think I fucking hate this woman.
She probably likes you. My Dad's words infiltrate my brain like a fucking ticker tape parade right at the wrong moment. I made the horrible mistake of mentioning Bella to him one night, and that was his genius opinion. Yeah - and that's why kids don't talk to their parents.
Her bottom lip pulls slightly between her teeth. I recognize a flicker of something I see often in other girl's faces. Huh, maybe… Nooooo. No. He couldn't be right. He's fucking clueless. Her eyes are boring into me, what the hell does she want? It feels like it has been ten minutes, but in reality I think it's been maybe 30 seconds. That's 30 seconds too long to be putting up with this shit.
Like a little devil on my shoulder, the jackass side of me pipes in. Well, make her squirm if she wants you… it may back her off… The thought sends the corner of my mouth up, I smirk unwittingly. It's hard to tell in this darkened stock room, but I'm pretty sure she blushes. Maybe the old man wasn't wrong…
"Hey, Bella, listen," she gulps loudly when I say her name. I smirk again. This might be too easy. "I'm really sorry about my shirt, I kind of just threw it on this morning," Snapping the fabric against my stomach, letting it raise just so, I take a step forward as I speak. Her eyes flit to my waist line, and she swallows hard again. "I wasn't really paying attention, but it won't ever happen again." I'm now standing one pace from her, obviously too close, she steps back slightly.
"It's okay, Ed-dward," her voice waivers on my name. "I'm sure it was a mistake, I trust you," she says softly, eyes connecting with mine and she smiles. My stomach does that funny thing again, and I pray I don't throw up on her. If I do this right I can make her uncomfortable enough to stop being a lurker at the very least. I step closer again. Her eyes have flecks of gold I'd never noticed before buried deep in the warm brown. I stare a beat too long, her glasses slip to the tip of her nose, and I realize too late that I'd stepped closer than I had intended.
She is less than a foot from one of the back walls, and I'm right there with her, sharing breaths. "Edward…" she exhales. It almost sounds sinuous rolling of her tongue that time.
"Bella…" I coo in turn. I am using my sexy voice now, and she definitely fucking blushes this time.
The smell surrounding her isn't appalling. It's sweet and clean. It's nice I suppose. I kinda really like it. It fills my head, and I feel a bit dizzy, our eyes are still locked. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm going to fail at this, and it will end up as just a highly uncomfortable moment.
Make a choice Eddie-boy, all or nothing. Without thinking anymore, I lift a hand to her cheek, drawing a finger across her skin; as the tip of my finger makes contact she draws in a sharp breath. It was like she was fucking waiting for it; her whole body relaxes against my hand. Her skin is soft like fucking rose petals or some shit, and I have an urge to feel it everywhere. Her eyes fall closed, a small smile rests on her lips. It is sort of endearing.
Her lips are just the right shade of pink, natural and warm. She wears no lipstick, but there is a light sheen, probably from chapstick. I find myself staring at them, they look supple. I wonder if they're softer than her cheek…
My face lowers to hers, hovering but not touching. "Edward," she purrs again, and her voice curls around me, sending vibrations under my skin. When I realize I am panting lightly against her mouth, my whole body buzzing, an intense sensation I'd never experienced just from being so damn close, I freeze. My cock is rock hard; that is another alarming factor.
When the fuck did this turn real? I chastise internally. "This is wrong," I mutter, but it doesn't sound like me, my voice is weak and rasping. All from fucking touching a girl's cheek?
Her eyes snap open, worry filling her stupid face. Those eyes go all doe like on me and the flecks of gold dim. "What… why?"
My hand digs into the back of my hair, I'm getting irritated, but I don't know if it's more at her or myself. "Oh I don't know Miss Swan… because you're my boss, because we're at work, because we don't even know each other?" I spit, stepping back, I begin to pace in a tight square.
"I know you," she mummers.
"What?" I stop short, letting my irritation fucking shine through.
"I know you," she repeats with more gusto this time. Her spine straightens and she looks me right in the fucking eyes; her glasses are shifted back into their proper place. "You're Edward Cullen, you are a typical all American jock asshole, who eats peanut butter and jelly every day for lunch like you're still 5 years old." Her words sting unexpectedly, and her voice rises in volume as she speaks.
"You have a mother and a father that love you very much - maybe too much because you are spoiled. You have one sister who graduated with me and is still in college. You used to draw on the table in your biology class when you got bored, because despite your façade, you're actually a very intelligent individual, and you didn't need to pay attention in that class to get an A."
I gap at her stupid face, the doe is all gone and there's this fucking lion in its place. I don't know what to say to it.
"You took this job because also, despite the fact of your intelligence and ability to ace tests without putting in the work - grades require more than just acing test, and you're in danger of failing out. So you actually had to learn a lesson about what real life is like, and what it means to work for something, and that is rubbing off on you."
"Stop," I say weakly because my head is fucking spinning with her words. My gut feels like it has been stabbed with my own box cutter. I feel emptied. Bare.
"You need money because you want to buy a car - Marylou," she continues. More pain.
Tears well up in her eyes but she continues. "Your favorite color is blue, and you hate onions, your favorite book is On the Road, and you drink water over soda. You-"
"STOP!" I finally yell, because I can't take anymore. "Just stop!"
Biting that bottom lip again, the lion fading, she pales to timid again. I stare at her, unbound by her words, but shaken by her perceptiveness and knowledge of my life.
Clearing my head, I start with the first question that comes to mind. "How did you know I got bored in biology?"
"I was a teacher's aide in your class," she reveals, and it hits me. I remember the quiet girl that sat at the front of the classroom and handed out papers but never once spoke.
"How did you know I was failing out of school?"
"Your father called when you applied, asked me to hire you as a favor. He went on and on, raving about how you were trying to turn your life around, get better grades, buy your own car."
"How did you know I need money to buy - to buy a car?"
"I overheard you talking about it to Sandra."
"But the name - how did you know about the name?"
"I saw you doodling pictures of a car and the name on the inside of one of your notebook, and I kind of put two and two together," she replied sheepishly. Oh don't get shy now Miss Swan.
"I noticed you prefer blue whenever given the chance, and water instead of soda is an easy enough observation. You always carry a copy of On the Road." She offers without prompt.
"Why? Why do you know all of these things?"
Her eyes fall, but she steps closer to me, they return - smoldering. "Because … because I have loved you ever since that biology class." Her voice is hardly a whisper, but it's like she screamed the words at me.
"What?" No. No. That's not what she meant to say. How could she? Why would she? This shit is worse; even more wrong. It would have been better if I had just thrown her up against the wall and fucked her stupid, this - this is not what… I don't love her. I fucking hated this woman. No no no.
I feel my nose wrinkle up. My face must register my thoughts because her eyes water again. But there is this determination in those fucking eyes, and she steps closer still. I'm the one backing up now.
"You don't have to say you feel the same," she says smoothly. "I know you don't really know me, or have noticed me the way I've noticed you." Her hand trails to my collar, fingers glide to the tip of my shoulder and curl around it. Where the fuck was this sudden confidence coming from?
A wall is at my back, Bella is centimeters from my front, her smell is all around me again, my fucking head is swimming in it. I feel drunk from her proximity. I have nowhere to look but at that stupid face. Flecks of gold dance, and I notice her nose is rather straight and kind of cute.
"Bella, I don't think…"
"Shhhh, don't. I'm not asking you to think." Fire burns in those eyes, molten want bubbling; her mouth quirks up in a secretive smirk. A shiver runs through me because the look on her face registers with my dick and it reacts. The need there is obvious, her eyes moving to my lips and back up. I feel like prey, paralyzed, but it's not necessarily unwelcome. Which is weird as shit; too many mixed emotions drowning my brain, I can't fucking think.
She moves, I stay still. I go crossed-eyed watching her nose as she moves ever closer. Her lips are at my lips, they are hovering like I did to her. I breathe and wait, my focus at her hairline. Maybe she just wants a kiss, fuck it - whatever. I can give the crazy bitch a kiss and be done with it.
Suddenly warmth spreads from my mouth through my face and down my body. Her lips have touched mine, but only barely. I press my face forward automatically, my body liking the fucked up warmth. Then we are kissing. Her lips fully against mine move in slow rotations, indulgent and smooth. Oh God, her lips are soft. My body feels like its vibrating, the source starting at my mouth - which I fear might go fucking numb from it, and reverberating throughout my limbs - all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. If I thought I felt light headed before, that was nothing.
She pulls away and my hands brace against the wall behind me so I don't fall over. I'm definitely panting now, so is she - I am not alone. Fuck, she didn't even slip me any tongue, what the shit? Her small fingers press into my chest, curling into the worn cotton, she's steadying herself as well.
My skin burns under where her hands rest. It's a slow simmering burn, and that shit is turning me on, stirring something inside of me. My hands act on their own, finding her hair and weaving into it at the base of her neck. Tilting her head back, I force eye contact. Sudden anger rakes at my heart. "I don't love you," I growl through clenched teeth. "I don't know you." Her chin trembles; water brims her eyes again, spilling over this time.
I crush my lips to hers almost harshly, a tear slides between our cheeks; that warmth spikes, rocketing through my body, electrifying my veins. Maybe hate is too harsh of a word.
My mouth moves hungrily, that anger lapping at the surface. How is this woman doing this to me? I am not in control of anything, my thoughts, my feelings, my fucking actions. She has unraveled me in less than ten minutes, and that feeds my irritation. I don't like the feeling. Maybe I like it too much.
Her hands claw at my shirt and chest. I know she's going to fucking leave scratch marks, but I don't give a shit. She moans into my mouth, the sound is like a live wire straight to my cock; it hardens impossibly more. My tongue slinks between her soft lips, mingling with hers, and I'm the one who moans at the contact this time.
My hands move freely about her body, eagerly feeling all they can. The swells of her breasts heave against my palms, causing her breathing to catch. Her nipples are fucking hard; I squeeze firmly to feel them pebble harder under my palm. God, I want to lick them, to fucking taste them - they feel fucking fantastic. Maybe I hate that I don't know her better.
Frantically, I grope for more. More, more, more, I want it all at once. I find her ass, cupping each cheek and it's like a perfect fit, my fingers curling and gripping hard. My long fingers dip into her center, and she makes a squeaking noise when they press gently there. The sound brings an evil smile to my mouth; I bite her bottom lip as I pull away. I want to hear her make more sounds like that. Our foreheads press together as we catch our breath, but my hands are still roaming, and I notice so are hers - running along my biceps, under the hem of my shirt. I hiss when the pads of her fingers make contact with my bare skin. Her touch burns me from the inside out.
I let go of her ass, begrudgingly, because that thing feels awesome in my hands, and slowly start to unbutton her shirt. I glare at the buttons, my breathing slowing. She's wearing one of those fucking shirts that buttons all the way up to her goddamned chin. A million fucking little buttons. It is taking forever; I have to force myself not to rip her fucking shirt. "I hate this shirt Bella," I grind out softly. She laughs, fucking giggles, and the sound is adorable. I don't think I've ever heard her laugh before. I like it, I want to hear that more too. Maybe I always thought she was out of reach, maybe I hated that.
Her hands still mine, pulling them away from those damn chastity buttons. Her fingers lithely take over, slipping them loose with no problem. I watch with rapt attention, something about watching her undress herself is highly enthralling. Oh my god, I am living a goddamned porno! I realize momentarily; a fucking librarian - my boss no less, in the back stock room, this is like something Jasper would be watching. Holy fuck.
Slits of skin slowly reveal themselves as her hands move downward, my internal ramblings are immediately cut off by the red lace bra that I can now see part of. I have no inner thoughts, I think I've gone brain dead, so I just stare and pray to God I'm not drooling.
All of the buttons are unfastened; Bella drops her hands away, seemingly unsure of what to do next. She lifts her face to mine, her eyes search my expression. She is fucking nervous, I can see that in the crease of her brow. My hands dip under her shirt, gliding along her ribs, fuck, the skin is even softer there. Goosebumps explode across the surface of her skin as my hands run gently up her sides and pause just at the fabric of her bra.
I am watching her face, it has shifted from worry back to want, her mouth drops open slightly. She reaches up and pulls her glasses from the tip of her nose. They can't be doing her any fucking good there anyway.
I don't cup her breasts like I want to, something makes me move slowly. Painfully slow, because my dick is threatening to bust the zipper on my jeans. Instead, my thumbs graze over her nipples. They are hardened and lace covered, I let out a heavy, wanting sigh. Her head tips back slightly at my touch, her eyes rolling closed.
For the first time I notice her cheek bones, her long, dark lashes, a light dusting of freckles at the bridge of her nose. She looks beautiful like this, wanting and uninhibited; nothing like the stuffy, uncomfortable librarian she personifies. My thumbs work small circles against her nipples, the pads of my thumbs are going numb from the textured fabric and the constant motion. She begins to emit small mewing sounds, her chest rising and falling faster. I wonder if I can make her cum just by rubbing her nipples. God that would be hot.
Leaning in, I continue working my fingers, and kiss lightly under her ear. "Fuck," she mutters under her breath, but loud enough for me to just barely catch. Holy shit - I made her curse; I smile against her skin.
Her breathing accelerates, her body is beginning to writhe in place. I swirl my tongue there three times slowly. One… she digs her nails into my arms. I pinch her nipples then keep rubbing. Two… her head falls back completely. "Oh God," she utters, writhing more. Three… her hands find the small of my back and she is pressing me to her, panting and wiggling, moaning loudly. I feel her body shake against me as she comes. Fuck… I was right, that shit was hot.
My hands dip to the small of her back, but stay connected to her skin. I am holding all of her fucking weight, but her arms still hold onto my back. Her cheeks are flushed rose to match her lips. Her eyes open, heavy lidded, a smile perched on her lips - she looks drunk. She pulls up her weight a bit, tipping onto her toes and placing a kiss on my lips. I press her body to mine, firmly against my hard on. I moan, our kiss becoming more passionate.
Hands scatter once more, I am a fucking needy, horny motherfucker at this point, and am struggling to keep that beast under control. Her shirt is discarded, my lips find her neck, collarbone, right side of her breast. She pulls my face back to hers and kisses me again before my shirt is pulled off.
Her hands skim reverently down my chest as she stares. Her fingers trace the contours of my hips bones; I am frozen. Her touch is torturously fucking divine. Everywhere she makes contact comes alive; every single cell earns a heartbeat of its own. Untouched parts of me feel cold, dead, while where she treads it's almost too much.
I stare at her fingers as they move, looking for whatever goddamned magic must be there, but it's only neatly cut nails and soft fingerprints. She drags a nail above the elastic of my boxers, I hiss, a fucking current of electricity shooting straight through my stomach. She giggles again. Her fingers hook into the tops of my jeans and they are unbuttoned quickly. Those damn little fingers - they can unbutton some shit, let me tell you.
My pants fall to the floor; I watch her face as she appraises my obviously swollen cock. She looks fucking thrilled, like a kid in a candy store. A gentle hand curls around my shaft, I grunt, bracing myself on her shoulders, my fingers digging into her skin. I am near self-combustion, taking this shit slow isn't going to work anymore.
My hands grab her face, I kiss hungrily; a starving man who has found a single ration of food. Bella's bra is removed, my shaft is being pumped through my boxers, and I want to tell her to stop before I explode all over her hand, but I never want her to stop. My breathing is a ragged fucking mess, my hands cover her naked breasts, then my lips. I lick her hardened nipple, pulling it into my mouth. She gasps and wrenches too hard on my dick.
Grabbing her fucking hands that will be the death of me, I wrap them around my back and press myself into her. My own hands find her pants, I unbutton at least one goddamned button successfully, and they fall. The floor is littered with our clothing as we step all over it, neither of us gives a shit though. I pull away from her lips only long enough to see that she is wearing white cotton panties. My hands find her ass again, lips devouring lips, my fingers cup and curl into that perfect fit, and I lift her against me.
There is only a few thin layers of cotton between us; her warmth against my dick is overwhelming. Her hands fist into my hair, tugging and begging. I carry her to the only chair in the part of the stock room we are in. Setting her in to it, I hover above her. She pulls away questioningly, and I bring her back into a kiss. My hand runs up her thigh, fingers dip in between her legs. Her back arches, naked titties pushing against my chest. My face automatically buries into them, nipping and sucking the sweet skin there.
Pulling her ass forward on the seat, I kneel in front of her, slinking her panties down her legs. She is perched on the edge; I kiss the inside of her knee, then a little higher. She leans back, eyes closing, breaths heavy and shaking; hands twist into my hair again. I part her legs kissing even higher still; she is so fucking wet a bead of moisture trails down her leg, glistening. Without hesitation, I lick that shit off her skin, pressing another kiss against her inner thigh, just to the side of her center. She rips my hair and moans when I get so close, but not quite there. I am driving her nuts, but it's so fucking intoxicating, I can't help myself.
I place another kiss just to the side; she groans and pulls harder on my hair. "Lick me," she moans. Fuck, she is going to kill me. My fingers dig into her hips as I resist the urge to plunge into her right then and there.
"You can't say shit like that Bella," I groan, my face pressed into her thigh.
"Please?" she tries again in a desperate huff.
Lifting her right leg and placing it over my shoulder, I lick leisurely straight up her slit. She cries out, back arching and hands clawing at my scalp. I lick again before finding the tiny sensitive bud and sucking it into my mouth. More licking and nibbling and sucking. Bella is pressing my face hard into her pussy, moaning and humping shamelessly. It only takes a minute for her to unravel, she shakes and fucking screams; holding my shoulders and head for dear fucking life.
Her body finally relaxes, and she melts from the chair into my lap. I kiss her neck slowly, just fucking liking her body against mine. She seems drained, but after a second her leg hitches over my hips and she is straddling me. She kisses me deeply, swaying her hips and creating blissful fucking friction against my dick.
She lifts her body, biting her bottom lip as she shimmies my boxers down my legs. The linoleum floor is goddamned freezing, but my body is so hot it almost feels good. She pushes my shoulders, and I follow her lead, laying back. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, she lines herself up and then slides down onto my cock. The motherfucker sings and does back flips, the tight warmth surrounding it is unearthly. I groan embarrassingly loud, my eyes roll into the back of my head.
She rises and then drops back down, her hips swirling with every pass. As my breathing increases she picks up her pace, pushing back harder each time. Lifting her body all the way up, so that the tip of my dick barely brushes the surface, I grunt at the sudden sting of cold air against my junk. The loss of her warmth and feel of her squeezing around me is fucking criminal. But before I can protest she drops back down to the hilt, pulling a sharp cry of joy from my lungs.
Kneading my hands into her ass as she moves, I push my hips up, crashing into her and pushing the pace. My body is fucking tingling, and now every cell has a heartbeat. I am so close, I move faster and harder against her. Bella's head has fallen back and she is gasping for air before her body tremors once more, she comes for a third time, crying out. I watch her expression - unleashed and utterly fucking thrilled as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.
Her breasts bounce above me as she picks up the pace; I grab one and squeeze. Perfection. My dick starts to pulse and a bolt of lightning scorches through my body as I come harder than I ever have in my entire fucking life, my cock releasing everything as she milks me dry.
My right hand is still on her right breast, our breathing has slowed. Bella slumps down on top of me, her lips nipping lightly at my chest. My hands move to wind through her soft tendrils.
"Wow," she hums into my skin.
"Yeah…" I reply dumbly. I'm having trouble wrapping my brain around what just happened. I just fucked my boss in the stock room. My boss that is in fucking love with me? The person I have all but loathed these last few months? My heart palpates funny when I think that, I couldn't hate her. I try and decipher what I feel but its so fucking jumbled, I am at a loss.
I know nothing about her, and what kind of level of stalker has she achieved by knowing what she does about me? And more importantly, why the hell doesn't it bother me. I feel more flattered that she has observed me so.
"Why are you a librarian?" I blurt. I needed some kind of understanding.
She lifts her head, brown and golden eyes swimming with contentment bathe my face. She is actually fucking beautiful. "Um… what?"
"You went to college, for a degree I'd assume. So why the fuck did you come back here and get a job as a librarian?"
Her face falls. I immediately regret asking her the question. "My Dad is sick," she finally answers. The look on her face splinters my heart. "I came back here to take care of him. I was supposed to write a book."
"I have a degree in English literature, got an offer from a publishing company before I even graduated college, but my Dad needed me … so I came back."
"Oh, well that sucks." I look away - I can't look into those eyes anymore. I sound like such a dick, but I can't say what I want; that it was the saddest most selfless thing I have ever heard. I just… I just fucking can't say that.
"So this will be a good story to tell your buddies I guess." She shifts, lifting herself up, her voice sounds despondent, cold. I am shocked by her sudden change in demeanor, and that shit cuts deep.
Her panties are back into place, bra covers her soft, silky breasts again. She refuses to look at me. "You fucked the town librarian, the stiff, unfriendly, shrew of a girl. You'll get to tell them all you made me scream, fucked my brains out."
Pants are pulled over her hips, her eyes stay away still, her words are like razors. I lay naked on the floor, speechless. "That's not…" I try.
"It's fine, it'll be a different story to tell for once," she shrugs. I am fucking outraged.
Jumping up, I rip my boxers onto my hips and grab her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. "Bella, what the hell are you saying, don't talk like that - demean yourself."
"Why not? You do it enough - I know what you think of me, you can barely stand me."
I gape, how do I refute something I thought to be true myself not an hour ago?
"Look Edward, what I said before, just please, please forget it. At the very least, leave that part out of the story."
"Bella, I'm not going to tell anyone," I shoot back at her, anger taking hold.
"I thought, shit, I don't know what I thought. But the way you were acting before, and then when you touched me… screw you Edward for doing that to me."
My eyebrows hit my hairline. What the fuck…? "For doing what to you?"
"For making me think that maybe you did care, for unhinging me by a simple touch and causing me to lose all my inhibitions. I have wanted you for so long, and the notion that maybe…" She stops herself from continuing that line of thought. "I should have never been so delusional."
The sadness in her eyes is like quicksand, it pulls me in, and I am drowning in it. I can't breathe. I did not want to make her feel this way, to use her, I never… Bella has always intrigued me, and the only reason I noticed her looming is because I was paying attention to her. I wouldn't let myself admit it, but I knew deep down I'd always felt this unexplainable pull to her.
"You're right," I say evenly, looking her right in the fucking eyes. "I didn't like you, couldn't stand you, hell I even thought I fucking hated your ass." She shrinks away from my words. I grab her arm to hold her there.
"You were always around, just there, watching me. But your eyes were different and it felt like you were peering into my fucking soul Bella. I felt disarmed and exposed, and I hated you for creating this feeling in me. I always saw you watching, because I was always watching you; wondering, curious about you." She pulls at her arm, trying to get loose, but I won't fucking let her go. The flood gates are open, and she has to hear this shit.
"Your favorite sandwich is also peanut butter and jelly. You wear the same clothes in a rotating order, except on days when you seem especially sad - then you wear your black sweater and black pants. It looks horrible, but I've always thought it must be because you feel horrible that day. You hate your hair in your face so you always keep a band around your wrist, even though you make an attempt to keep it down. Your favorite book is Wuthering Heights, and you also carry around a copy. You hate coffee and gum, but you're addicted to Tic-Tacs."
"Edward, I…" her voice trembles, she stops pulling away from me.
"Fuck Bella, I don't know if I love you because I'm a stupid prick, and I don't know what love is. But I do know that I've never felt for a girl at all, and you - well, I can't get your stupid face out of my fucking head."
"My face isn't stupid," she pouts, but there is a shadow of a smile hidden there.
My hands slide into hers, our fingers lace. "Can we just start over Bella?" I pull her into my arms, kissing the top of her head as she sighs a yes. "Good, because that was some of the hottest sex I've ever had -"
She cuts me off with a hard slap against my chest, but she is giggling. Yeah, I really fucking liked that sound. "Oooo, baby, I like it rough - hit me again." She pushes my shoulders and squeals as I nuzzle against her neck.
"Edward you're such an ass!" She laughs, pinching my stomach.
I pull back, smiling down at her. "I know," I shrug. "But you love it," I fucking tease her ass because I like this playful Bella.
She rolls her eyes, "Whatever."
I quirk a brow at her. "Oh, just whatever?" Leaning in I whisper wickedly into her ear, "Why don't you tell me to lick you again Miss Swan?"
Her face goes that fucking tomato red and she blanches. "That was, just - I was in the moment. Oh God, that is so embarrassing," she moans burying her face in her hands.
I chuckle, pulling her hands away and kissing her gently. "Don't be embarrassed baby, that shit was hot," I breathe against her lips.
Pulling away, she narrows her eyes at me. "Baby huh?" Her head tilts like she's considering that shit. "Yeah, I guess you can call me that. It's okay. I suppose I don't mind… I kinda like it." A devious smile stretches across her lips before her fingers grip into my hair, pulling my face to hers again. "Say it again, I fucking love it."
I laugh and kiss her stupid face because she sounds like me. Kissing her and muttering baby over and over again; I have a feeling Thursdays won't be so bad anymore. They'll probably be pretty good - I think it's my favorite fucking day of the week.