Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen were just strangers. Co-workers who had to exist in the same space. When Edward discovers their desires aren't so different they embark on a torrid affair. Soon Edward wants more than just there sexual relationship, Isabella accepts him as a sexual master but can they transcend into a real-life relationship?
A/N: Hiya! I'm a perv who couldn't get this naughty thought of Edward shagging Isabella so I wrote a story bout it! Very naughty! Hope you like!
It seemed like the minute I decided to become a writer I gave up everything else. Writing took a lot more self-sacrifice. More truth than you should ever reveal. It took blood, sweat, and tears.
I lived life as a man barely getting by. Money, family, sanity; all those things had become foreign to me. I lived like a monk in a two bedroom apartment in Hampton, North Carolina, right next to the metro station. Each time the train went by it shook the whole apartment and I could practically wave to the morning passengers from my kitchen window.
None of my family would come by, each of them citing different reasons. Alice was the only one who was completely honest by telling me the smell from the Korean restaurant below me made her stomach churn.
I was a man completely isolated only going to work and having dinner with my family every first of the month. I worked at a law firm with my older brother Emmett as a mediator. It was a career I left long ago, but found myself back in after a brutal divorce left me broke. Each day, it reminded me why I didn't go through with law after I passed the bar. It was dull and routine.
It was affecting my writing badly. I had just finished my novel, which to me was the biggest piece of crap I have ever written. It wasn't my best it was just garbage I didn't even believe in. A man who has been divorced talking about marriage and love?
Each day I listened to people who once loved each other and vowed eternal devotion before their friends and family fight like they were now at war. Over minimal things like who would keep the dog. All it did was remind me I was alone and it was better this way. Commitment was nothing but a fairy tale that didn't pertain to me, since my life never consisted of happy endings. I just need the job to get by and the novel was what my agent requested. Even though my heart wasn't in the novel, I was going to submit it anyway. I was doing what everyone expected from me.
Working with Emmett didn't seem to be too bad and the law firm is where I met Isabella. It was a small office of about twenty people in a tiny but modern building. I hardly got a case thrown my way. Most people didn't want to mediate they just decided on divorce, but those rare cases that I did get were solved pretty quickly. Most of my time was spent in my office, door closed, computer on. I would spend my day writing my stories and posting them online under a different penname.
Isabella was a grad student who worked part-time at the firm as an IT Tech. She was in her mid-twenties, a drop-out from East Carolina University and was now attending University of Hampton. She worked in the office during the day and took courses at night to obtain her degree.
Still, I never thought I would connect with Isabella. I admit, I was quick to judge her. Isabella wasn't so bad. The first day I met her at the office was celebrating her engagement to her boyfriend of six months. I introduced myself, but mostly stayed away from her.
I assumed that she was like most girls her age; vain, no intellectual ambitions and just looking for Mr. Right now. Isabella was of medium height, very nicely built, with a lush and splendid body with long brown hair and deep brown eyes and she always dressed well. Isabella just seemed like your ordinary girl to me. She wasn't weird or a loser. She was your normal every day girl with normal every day desires.
She seemed to have a passion for her job and since Emmett refused to upgrade the computers Isabella and I saw a lot of each other. Whenever I ran into a problem she was there fixing it. At first Isabella kept her position a safe but friendly distance from me, but as her wedding date came closer she started to chat me up.
I was known to be a pretty quiet guy. I liked to get the feel of someone before opening up to them and once I get to know you I relax. Since I was getting along with all the co-workers I decided to take go out with them to a local poetry place. Maybe that's what drew Isabella in; my calm side.
Whatever it was, she seemed to have a sudden interest in me. She was soon coming to my office just to discuss writing. Angela Webber, Isabella, and I made the poetry hang out a once a month thing. That is when my dark secret emerged. We met at Firebelly's, a hole in the wall near campus, with the drinks flowing and us in an environment outside of work I became comfortable.
Isabella seemed to show a strong interest in writing, mostly poetry. I decided to impress her by telling her about my first book. The way her dark eyes lit up with interest it took me by surprise really. She asked what kind of book it was and I quickly answered romance. That wasn't entirely true because, I wrote more than just that. I wrote pornographic, from all genres. Sci-fi, angst, drama, but all stories were erotic and under a different were my form of therepy. I was pouring my sexual frustrations into them.
It wasn't something I was proud of and I usually kept it very hush-hush, but that night caused me to let go of my inhibitions. Isabella seemed to really been into it and had a wide grin on her face that was breathtking. I wanted to be the reason for that smile so I told her. I didn't get many chances to impress anyone let alone a girl like her.
I did the unthinkable. I gave her the name to my website, with my erotic stories on it. It was not the smartest thing I've done and I knew better than to tell anyone about it. Especially someone I worked with.
Actually, I knew why I did it. I was a lonely middle-aged man. A failure compared to my older brother and would never have the prestige someone like Isabella would respect. I was initially trying to impress her. I was a loser in my real-life but a master in my liteture.
I wanted her to know what I was like inside. I pretended I that they were just silly musings of a lonely man, pretended to be ashamed, but I truly loved writing them. I told myself it would be okay, that she would never read them any way, so why would I care. If she did read them and became shocked then too bad. At least I had the pleasure of scandalizing her in some way. I told myself that she probably wouldn't even remember my penname.
The next morning I had an hour long staff meeting with Emmett. We started early in the morning at around seven o'clock before everyone came in. The meeting seemed to run over and we left at ten o'clock. For the first time I was anxious to see Isabella as I left Emmett's office and slowly passed hers. When I passed by her cubicle and saw no one disappointment settled in my gut.
Entering my office I sat my briefcase down on the floor and sat in my office chair. I spun around in my office chair and noticed a post it stuck to the front of my monitor My heart began to hammer against my chest as I read it over and over. Slowly, a wide grin came over my face.
I read the stories Edward. I enjoyed them VERY much. Loved the one about the librarian.-Isabella
I sat with my heart in my mouth. I knew what story she was referring to. I went over the story in my mind, trying to see just how much I revealed about myself. Apart of me was ashamed and another part was wildly thrilled. That particular story was a BDSM mixed with a bit of truth. Uncapping my pen I wrote her a small note back.
Later on that day, when I entered the tiny break room where we had lunch I spotted Isabella with her head down, focusing on her a magazine. I stood in the door frame for a while and kept a causal eye on her. Isabella had her longs legs cross at the ankle. I noticed the way her breasts thrust forward against her cotton tee with every flip of the page. I started toward the back table where I usually sat alone and gobbled down my lunch.
I sat there and continued to watch her. I was mesmerized by the way she twisted her hair around her finger as she concentrated. She looked up and caught me staring and we held each others gazes for longer than necessary before she turned back to her magazine. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I saw a slight smile on her lips.
When Isabella was done she walked toward me and threw her lunch away. Casually she gave me a nervous smile while she played with her necklace. I noticed the emerald cut solitaire her fiancée gave her was hanging around her neck like a pendent instead of on her hand. Slipping out the post it note I had written I handed it to her before leaving the room. I glanced at Isabella over my shoulder as she read it. The tip of my mouth turned up in a grin as I remembered what I wrote.
If you ever get curious again, I have more.
It was fifty degrees outside, slightly chilly so I was taken aback when Isabella came in wearing a tank top that was a bit snug. She paired it with a cardigan that she left open, revealing the slopes of her breasts. She was wearing a pleated skirt. It wasn't out of the ordinary, but my mind flashed back to my story. It was the same exact outfit the librarian was wearing. It blew my mind to say the least.
She didn't act her usual place self either. Today, Isabella was much bolder with her flirtation. My eyes focused on her bare knees as she walked in front of my office. Isabella tipped the pen to her bright red lips, doing all but fellate it. Her intentions were so blatant I would have laughed if I wasn't so turned on.
I didn't even think she was actually working. It looked like she was just walking by to catch a glimpse of me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her lean and stretch back her shoulders a bit. Her breasts pressed against the front of her tank top and I could see her nipples were hard. It caused me to lose focus on the case files in my hand.
Whenever I looked up, her head would be down, but she was giving me all the signs. She did everything but thrust her hands between her legs. It was a wonderful performance and I saw that I had seriously misjudged her. She might or might not be a submissive, but she definitely wasn't shy.
When everyone was leaving for the day I asked Isabella to stay behind. We waited for the other co-workers to filter out of the building before Isabella entered my office. Maybe my description of her behavior made her appear to be more shameful, but I will assure you there was nothing sordid about Isabella. She was beautiful with a natural classic gracefulness that stole my breath and made a rush of desire burn through my veins.
"Yes, Edward, how can I help you?"
I collected my files not looking her in the eye. "So you read the story?"
Isabella's eyes lit up with a smoldering glow. "Yes. I read a few other stories by you. You have-" she said as she cleared her throat loudly, "a lot of them."
I nodded then looked up at her. "Isabella, I only told you about those stories because I trust you. I can trust you, right?"
I knew I could be intimidating. I knew I had a lot of intimidating qualities; maybe it came through when I was trying to be serious. To me it was a very serious situation and I needed to know she understood the severity of keeping this a secret.
Something inside me felt Isabella starting to respond. I couldn't say what it was. Whether it was her change in breathing or something in her eyes, maybe the shift of her body and the way she leaned forward, I couldn't say.
Isabella's cheeks became flushed. "I wouldn't tell anyone else Edward, I mean, I don't think anyone else would understand."
"You're right Isabella, they wouldn't," I said as I snapped my briefcase closed, "But you do, don't you Isabella? So tell me, what do you think?"
We began walking to the door of my office. She was just behind me. "Well…they're different, but very good. Very vivid. I felt like I was there, like I was that girl."
I snapped off the lights leaving the only light illuminating the room the street light. I didn't know if it was the effect of the dim lights or the palpable tension between us, but I turned to Isabella.
"They're all based on things, things I do. I've changed the names, the settings, their ages, but it's all true Isabella. I hope you don't think differently of me." It was late at night, almost ten o' clock and there was no one in sight. Even the parking lot was deserted. Isabella stood with her back to the door, but did not meeting my gaze.
There was a long moment of silence in which nothing stirred between us but our breath. I put my hand on the door frame blocking her way. I did it without even thinking. In the darkness I saw her chest rising and falling.
"Do you think badly of me, Isabella?"
I put down the briefcase and locked the door. It made an audible clicking. The cleaning crew wouldn't be in until midnight. I knew we had time. We were alone in this vast, enclosed, and vacant space filled with sexual tension. We had no control over what happened next.
I put my hand on the wall next to her head and leaned over her. I had no doubt about what she wanted. Like a fox knows his prey, it was an animalistic instinct.
"Answer me," I calmly said.
Even in the darkness I could tell she was looking up at me. "I don't think badly of you. Now it's the opposite Edward," she paused before finishing her sentence," I can't stop thinking of you."
I took her hand. "Come here. Away from the door."
I led her a few feet into the office, away from the square light filtering through the small window on the door. She was still standing with her back to the wall and I leaned over her again, keeping her trapped. Her eyes were shining with something between fear and excitement and her lips were parted and glistening.
"Lift up the front of your skirt."
"What? Edward I don't think," she cried looking shocked.
"Just do as I say. Lift it up and hold it to your waist." There was a moment when our wills collided and we just stared at each other, but I knew she wanted this.
Slowly, her hands went to her skirt and she began to gather up the fabric. "You've been aching for this haven't you, Isabella?"
With her skirt still gathered above her panties I could see the imprint of her sex. I lowered my right hand and touched her thigh, midway between knee and hip. She stared at me through the darkness, as her nostrils flared.
"Some people trust each other enough to let them control one aspect of their life." My fingertips slid up her thigh, slowly working around to reach the soft and sensitive insides where the skin seemed to tremble. Stroking first one leg then the other, caressing her gently.
My body was very close to hers almost touching her. Her breasts rose and fell in the dim light. Suddenly, Isabella put her hands on my shoulders and her skirt dropped over my wrist.
"No," I barked, "These are my rules Isabella and you will obey them. The first one is you don't touch me. Not without permission. Understand? Now pick up your skirt and hold it like I told you to do."
Isabella removed her hands from my shoulder and revealed her snug panties, the smooth plane of her belly, and toned legs. I boldly stroked her between her legs through the synthetic fabric. I felt her legs quiver. She was warm and soft, humid, and I could feel every inch of her perfectly through the thin material- her swollen labia, the bump of her clit.
"I can feel you getting so wet in my hand. You love it, don't you?" I pushed my finger against her and felt the fabric give over her opening. Isabella moaned a soft sound that excited me. It was simply exhilarating. I never knew I could feel this way and didn't know she would be the person to bring it out in me. She was giving me what I craved for so long.
She was warm and hot. A sticky wetness began to moisten the thin fabric instantly. I wondered had she ever had anyone solely focus on her or did they take selfishly, not knowing the pure pleasure of seeing her face contort in ecstasy. Isabella threw her head back against the wall still holding her skirt. Her delicate fingers were gripping the fabric so hard her knuckles were turning white.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked nervously.
It was obvious what I was going to do to her, since I was already doing it in the first place. But I understood that Isabella needed to hear it, it didn't take a genius to realize dirty talk got her off.
"I'm going to touch your pussy. I'm going to make you come, right here in this empty room. In the same space we work. You know why Isabella? Because you need it so fucking bad."
She swallowed as if her throat were very dry. I slid my finger up and down her slit, forcing the fabric against her. I found the bud of her clit and bore down on it then eased up and let my fingertip flicker against it like a little flame, back and forth, closing my own eyes and letting the actuality of what I was doing wash over me for a moment, giving myself time to fully and entirely realize I was touching this beautiful stranger as she held her skirt up with her legs spread widely apart.
I moved the crotch of Isabella panties to the side. I could no longer hold back as I thrust my finger into her walls being engulfed by her tight, wet, muscles. "Fuck." I grunted. She looked at me in panic and I saw she was losing it.
The excitement of being fingered and played with made her hot. It was astounding to have a woman like this, getting turned on by the loss of control. I wanted to give her more. So I reached behind her with my free hand and lifted the back of her skirt, worked myself under the back of her panties and pressed a finger against her tight anus.
Her eyes went wide with panic as I felt her buttocks clench against my finger and slam her pussy against my finger in helpless excitement. Isabella looked too scared to say no, but I knew better than to go any further. I could tell even that was enough to rev her up.
"That's right Isabella fuck my finger." I growled in a voice I didn't even recognize.
I moved enough to give her room so that she could see the way her hips were pushing out and how she was pumping my finger. She looked down, her eyes a mixture of horrified and excitement. "Oh God!"she moaned.
I moved my hand from her ass and curled my fingers in her hair, pulling it back. I studied her as she began losing it.
"Touch me now!" I demanded.
Isabella's thighs trembled, her legs growing weak. Obediently she dropped her skirt and held onto my shoulders, one hand crushing the fabric of my tweed blazer into a ball, her elegant nails digging into me.
"Yes!" she screamed.
I was afraid her screams would alarm someone. So I kissed her; holding her by her hair and devouring her mouth with mine muffling her cries as she shrieked out in pleasure. With her pussy pumping, her internal muscles pulling at my finger as she pushed her hips forward one final time she finally came.