Title: Mirrors
Summary: Who knew playing your very own cat mouse game could be so much fun? Especially when the mouse wants to get caught? ExB,AH
Word Count:374
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I just make her Bella play with Edward for my own joy! I also don't own Mirrors by Natalia Kills although that song is HOT! J/S Thanks to all my betas and pre-readers I would mention you by name but then you would know who I am lol.
Prompt: I didn't use a picture but I watched and listen to the video for the song Mirrors by Natalia Kills to write this.

His seemingly sweet, innocent, forest green orbs are wide in shock as they meet mine across the club through the flashing greens, blues, and silvers as smoke goes swirling dancing across the floor. Ah Mr. Cullen, I see you now realize that you have been a bad boy, and I am out to get you. I always get my mark, no matter how hard they try to run from me. Like the cat that stalks it's mouse into a corner and then toys with it for hours before allowing it to meet its demise. I will enjoy taking my time to make you understand the error of your glorious, sex hair ways. You can play coy and innocent, but I know better, you're as guilty as a mobster with an empty truck.

I have been tracking your sexy ass for the last three months, trying to find the right moment to make my approach, I must admit you have been the most difficult of my marks. I have not been sure how to make my initial contact. I have been to countless of these same type locations, watching you enjoy the rhythmic sway of bodies, turning away countless, nameless, and for all purposes, faceless women. Never engaging in conversation with either sex or losing the seemingly permanent growl on those plump pink lips, making people think you're more of a lion than the kitten you truly are. We both know the truth though, don't we, Edward? We know who you truly are.

What you like between the sheets. How the feel of cool leather against your bare skin sends shivers down your spine and makes your toes curl. How a hot breath against your ear, telling you what to do, turns you into a pile of panting mess. I wonder if the feel of my rabbit fur, along the swell of the muscles of your ass and upper thighs, would cause you to quake? Are you waiting for my sign, Mr. Cullen? Cause we are, of course, playing my game again tonight. You are my mouse now and all it takes to get you to walk out of those doors and into my dungeon, is one flick of my lighter. *click* Game On, Love.