ENTRY FOR THE HIGH TIMES CONTEST
Story Name: In Case of Emergency
A/N: Thanks to AmeryMarie and famouslyso for the prereads and beta. I'm not sure I could get by without you guys.
Funny how it had only taken ten seconds to end a relationship that was two years in the making. Last Sunday morning, I'd been one blissfully unaware half of a long-term relationship; by Saturday night, I was the newly single—and honestly, sort of bitter—woman scorned. When my good friend Alice suggested a night out to chase away my troubles, it had taken some convincing (read: bribery with alcohol), but I ultimately surrendered.
She didn't tell me about the weed until she'd trapped me in the cab on the ride back to Emmett and Rose's place, which was also my building. Of course, I wasn't allowed to go to my apartment—we were meeting up for an "after-bar," as Alice called it, because it was way too early to go home. I had to ride in the fucking middle seat, sandwiched between Alice and her sister-in-law. Great. Now I had to start the night riding bitch for real instead of just metaphorically.
"Alice, don't be tempting me with that stuff when my defenses are down! You know it makes me lazy!" I whisper-yelled, because Alice made me feel like being just that annoying. Never mind that I really wanted to get high. It had been so long since college, the days of weed and bars and dining halls. Really, who would eat that shit they served if they weren't baked?
"Bella, you don't have to do it every day, but come on! Jasper's a pharmacist, and even he swears by it. That's practically doctor-recommended! And it's the good shit."
"He's a pot pharmacist, Alice! Of course he swears by it; he works for the Green Cross!" It wasn't that I was against weed. More like I was a little bit too pro-weed. And I had no willpower when it was right in front of me...
"Just keep it in case of an emergency," she cajoled, making Rose stifle a laugh.
"You know, instead of, 'In case of emergency, break glass,' it's 'smoke grass'."
"You are so not funny, Rose," Alice scoffed.
"Okay, fine!" I snapped, still staring at the fatty that Alice held blithely in front of my nose, waving illegal drugs around in a semi-public place. The still-paranoid former pothead in me cringed, and I grabbed it from her and tucked it safely in my bag, out of sight of the cabbie and any cops that might have had binoculars or high-powered lenses. "I'll take it. Happy?"
"Perfectly," Alice smiled.
"Just don't burn my house down, okay?" Rose asked with a wry smile. "Both of you." We were pulling up to the curb then, and everyone busily reached for their purses to pay the cabbie.
When everything was squared away and he pulled away from the curb, he yelled, "Have fun tokin' up, ladies!" and cackled until he was out of hearing range.
It was midnight, but the night was just beginning, it seemed.
О Ж О
"Wanna raid Emmett's liquor cabinet?" Edward asked with a sneaky grin, and I couldn't help but return the smile. I nodded, even though the movement made my head spin. I was so glad I'd agreed to this night out with my friends, which had been sorely needed after my horrific week.
Here I was, wheel number five at the after-party, with Rose and Emmett probably fucking somewhere, Alice and Jasper out on the terrace chain-smoking...and I was currently getting ready to raid the liquor cabinet with wheel number six—Alice's middle brother, Edward. Ever since I met the little dictator in line at the neighborhood coffee shop, the six of us had been friends. Her oldest brother Emmett and his wife Rosalie lived across the hall from me, and Alice often spent time there with the rest of her siblings. I was usually included by default since it was impossible to refuse Emmett, but also because Alice was a little OCD about even numbers. Edward and I didn't have the most talkative relationship, but we got each other. Silence was cool with him, light and free, and when we did discuss things, I found myself wishing our conversations could go on forever.
"You coming?" Edward asked, holding out a hand to help me rise. Through the haze of God knew how many vodka-club soda cocktails, his eyes were a blurry green, and they reminded me of murky sea water. The kind of green that could just swallow you up before you knew what was happening. I'd seen these eyes so many times, but they'd never sucked me in like this before.
Well, they had, but I wouldn't ever let myself focus on them. He was my friend and I was taken; that was just asking for trouble.
But I wasn't taken now.
That sent the pain and anger flooding back again. Two years and then...nothing but betrayal and hollow apologies. Memories of his golden skin against flesh that wasn't mine; his hands buried in hair that was the wrong color; tiny fingers that weren't mine exploring his body.
Not like it was really worth that much exploring.
"Bella?" A lopsided grin dominated Edward's face as he waited, unaware of my inner turmoil. I tried to stand, only to have my legs decide they were done for the night. My ass hit the couch before I even got halfway up.
"My knees have left the building," I blurted, eyes fixed on his smile. Something warm bubbled up in my chest as he laughed, and I wondered how I'd never realized how good it made me feel when he smiled at me. He made all that other shit just fade away. He moved to help me up and his foot hit my purse with a thump, knocking it over. I suddenly remembered Alice's 'prescription,' and I hoped nothing incriminating fell out of my bag.
"Sorry about that," Edward stammered, grabbing the purse at the bottom. I watched in helpless resignation as the joint rolled out, along with a few tampons, a lot of receipts and, to my utter mortification, a single condom.
"I honestly have no idea where that came from," I blurted, pointing at the items on the floor. "I swear, I don't carry condoms around! I'm not like that!"
Giving me an amused look, he grinned. "You're denying the condom, but not the weed?"
"The weed is from Alice!"
Instead of responding, he calmly put all the stray items back into my purse, except for the joint and the condom, and tucked my bag between himself and the arm of the couch. The foil square went into his back pocket, and I smacked him on the shoulder. "You said you didn't carry condoms around. Sometimes I do. Problem solved, right?"
"You're a pig."
I gasped. "Charlotte's Web?"
"Yeah. You like the classics, right? That's a classic." He sounded almost shy, and I had to smile.
"I agree," I said softly, just staring at him like a goof. It was ridiculously cheesy, but I couldn't deny that it totally worked on me.
After a few moments of silence, he held up the joint and asked, "What are we going to do about this green leafy substance right here? I'm afraid I can't let you walk home with it, Bella. It's illegal without a medical marijuana license."
Well, it wasn't an emergency unless my utter embarrassment counted, but Edward seemed game..."Maybe we should smoke it, narc."
"'Narc?' I don't think so. My roommates at Dartmouth called me 'Iron Lung'," he bragged.
"Only you could name drop an Ivy League university in the same sentence as a reference to your awesome toking skills, Edward."
"I'll take that as the compliment it is and move on," he said with a smirk. He dug around in his pocket until he pulled out a lighter.
"Why do you have one of those? You don't smoke."
"Alice gave it to me earlier. She said you left it with her. I thought it was yours."
Scheming little... If I remember this tomorrow, I'm going to slap her.
"Forget Alice and her crap," he advised, holding the joint between two fingers as he brought it to his mouth and lit the end. My mouth went dry at the sight, and I tried to write it off as cottonmouth even though I hadn't had a hit yet. He blew out the smoke from the excess twist of paper and inhaled again, licking his lips as he handed me the smoldering smoke.
If there was one thing I'd never forget, it was how to get high. Smoking weed was like riding a bicycle. You always fucking remembered how. I was thanking God for that fact as I took a hit, because watching him smoke this shit was making it really hard to sit still. I didn't think it was because I had to pee, though I couldn't be sure. Of course, I took way too much while staring at Edward and my lungs immediately seized up. I did that half-wheeze, half-cough thing that's universally recognized by all potheads former and current, and Edward smacked me on the back, laughing.
"Good shit, huh?"
"Yeah." He took the joint back and took another drag, and I started to moan out loud but managed to disguise it as a giggle. He started to pass it but stopped, raising an eyebrow in question. I had to wait for him to exhale before he'd explain.
"You sure you need any more? You're already giggling."
"Shut it, Cullen. Watch the master at work." Snatching the weed from his fingers, I managed to take a rather impressive hit without coughing it all over the place. God, it burns! I'm so out of practice...shit! Then he had to go and smile at me.
I coughed, and this time it felt like the insides of my lungs were coated in super-glue. They got smaller and smaller with each failed inhale—I wished Alice would have warned me this was the lung shrinker shit. When I finally managed to get enough air, I opened my eyes to find no sign of the joint aside from the lingering scent of weed smoke, and Edward's arm was firmly wrapped around my shoulders.
"You okay, Bella? I put the rest of that shit away. I'm fucking ripped."
"Me, too," I croaked, setting off another coughing fit. "I can't hang any more."
"Me neither," he laughed, smacking his lips. "I need a fucking drink. Now can we raid Emmett's liquor cabinet?"
"I think you'll have to carry me there."
"Uh-oh. C'mon, I'll piggyback you." He grabbed my wrist and tugged me to stand, letting out a grunt when I fell straight into his chest. It stirred something low in my gut, and I wondered what it would be like to hear that sound in another context. An entirely inappropriate, naked, dirty context.
I was thankful for Edward's tight grip on my wrist and the strong hand he'd planted against my lower back. He wasn't quite as fucked as I was, but I doubted he'd handle me quite so roughly if he were sober. Hell, he'd hardly touched me at all before tonight, aside from the occasional one-armed hug or drunken high-five.
He sure was touching me now...and I liked it. It would do me well in the future to remember that weed made Edward a little handsy. Definitely a plus.
After making sure I was steady, he turned his back to me. "Hop on up!"
Our height difference was suddenly very apparent to me, and given the state of my chemically-impaired brain, I doubted I could make the leap. "Uh...you're too tall," I complained. I swore I could almost hear his eyes roll.
With a heavy, exaggerated sigh, he bent his knees. "Here, shorty. Better?"
"I don't think—"
"Just jump! I won't let you bust your ass."
I jumped, and might have slapped him in the face while I was trying to grab his shoulders.
"Jesus, Bella. I know my nose is a little crooked, but it's not a goddamn handle," he griped as he rose to his full height.
"Your nose is kinda pretty. All of you is kinda pretty." Getting high made me talk way too much...God, maybe I shouldn't have any more to drink, because if I did, I could kiss any remaining inhibitions goodbye. Now that I was plastered all over his back, legs spread wide and pressing against his lean muscles, his strong hands cradling my thighs just above my knees, I couldn't think about anything else but him. His hotness was damn hard to ignore.
"I'm so flattered." Yeah, I could tell. His voice couldn't get drier if he'd spent three days in the desert.
"You're welcome." It was better to act flippant than to let him think I was serious, right?
He started off down the hallway, and I tightened my arms around his neck, trying to surreptitiously cop a feel of his chest at the same time.
"Stop feeling me up, Swan, or I'll drop you."
"Hey, I'm just hanging on!" I totally wasn't. Jesus, he felt so nice...
He sighed. "That's what they all say."
"I hope there's not some sort of perverted joke in there."
"Isn't there always?" We laughed the rest of the way down the hall. Neither of us was particularly steady, and he bumped our shoulders against the doorframe on the way into the kitchen. "Are you okay?" he asked nervously, bending his legs and letting my thighs slide down the outsides of his so I could stand. Quickly, he turned to face me and rubbed my shoulder gently.
"Yeah, it's okay—I do that kind of stuff all the time. I think my eye-body coordination is about half a foot off. One of these days, I'll probably lose a pinky toe to a stray corner or doorway somewhere."
"Your poor toes. I'd kiss them better."
I gasped. "That's gross. Do you have some kind of foot fetish?"
He paled, stammering for an answer. "Uh, no...I...shit, I'm a little more inebriated than I thought. It sounded better in my head."
"Well, if I ever let anyone kiss my toes, I promise it will be you," I admitted, looking down as my cheeks flamed.
"Good to know," he said, laughing softly. He backed away and pointed to the liquor cabinet. "Drink?"
"Yes, please." He waited, his expression expectant. "What?"
He smiled at my spaciness. "What would you like, Bella?"
"Oh...vodka and club soda, if he's got it." Edward started pawing through the cabinet, making a huge racket as he searched. I had an absolutely perfect view of his ass.
"Got it. You want lime or cranberry with?"
He didn't talk while he worked and I was tongue-tied over the view; the only sounds were the rush of my breathing, the excited beat of my heart. The ice tinkled in the glass as liquor poured in a perfect stream. He expertly mixed the drink and took a generous sip before turning back to me. There was something weirdly exciting about sharing a glass with him.
He handed me the drink and our fingers brushed. The heat of his skin compared to the chilled class was shocking. Our eyes locked—his stormy green with my dirt brown. We were so close...I could feel his liquor-scented breath against my lips. My entire body was buzzing, and I wasn't naïve enough to think it was all because of the weed. I'd always been attracted to Edward, but it wasn't like I could act on it.
Things were different now.
"Are you gonna stare at me or drink?" He had that devastating smile going full-power, and I was pretty much toast.
"What if I said I wanted to stare at you?" I asked softly and took a sip. His eyebrows rose high at my question, and his Adam's apple bobbed. His gaze flickered between my eyes and the drink, and cotton-mouth decided to show up in full force. Half the liquid was gone before I knew it; wordlessly, I handed the vodka back and he finished the remnants in one gulp, setting the glass on the counter.
"I'd say go right ahead." His voice was lower, rougher. Laughter and jokes floated in from one of the rooms off the hallway, but they were just background noise. I couldn't be bothered to pay attention to anything other than him. My extremely sexy friend. Edward. Oh, Jesus...
"Are you flirting with me?" Damn my loose tongue. And damn the Green Cross.
"Are you?" There was a hopeful bent to his words, like he wanted it to be true. He was looking up at me through his eyelashes in some kind of lady-killing way that made me squirmy.
The silence hung heavy between us, some unseen force pulling us together like magnets, until I could see the golden and blue flecks that rimmed his pupils. All I could do was blink like an idiot, but that was better than blurting out what I was thinking. Because if he turned me down after I offered to lick him head to toe...I'd be mortified. I'd have to block it out of my mind for my own sanity, and there were parts about tonight I really wanted to remember.
Then it didn't matter as his mouth met mine, warm and soft, sending a shock throughout my whole body. My surroundings, my thoughts, even my name; all of it disappeared. I didn't want to remember the last couple weeks; hell, I didn't want to remember the past two years. Eagerly, I returned the kiss, tasting the firm curve of his lips and venturing into his mouth. Expensive vodka and tangy limes overwhelmed my senses, the slight bittersweet scent of good weed flavoring it all, and when his tongue pushed past my lips to brush over mine, I whimpered.
He pulled back immediately. "Bella, I'm sorry—"
"No! No 'sorry.'" I pleaded, reaching, searching for his mouth but hitting his cheek. "Don't be sorry..."
"But what about—"
"It doesn't matter," I insisted, not wanting anything to ruin this moment. I just wanted to feel good...and Edward was doing that with his kisses. "I just want to forget him."
I kissed him this time, and he didn't take too long to give in. One of his hands tangled in my hair, the other snaking around my hip. His body pressed into mine, the long lines of his arms and legs pulling me in. There was no question who held me; he felt so different, yet so damn good against me. I was already embarrassingly aroused, warmth buzzing and building between my legs, my heart pounding. My hands curled into fists in the collar of his shirt; I lost myself in the taste and feel of him, my skin tingling all over, and all I could think was that I'd never felt anything like this. Ever.
And it was amazing.
The feel of his long body against mine, the softness of his lips, the way he held me like I was precious to him—all of it was exactly what I needed.
I just needed him.
I forgot the possible embarrassment of tomorrow morning; I pushed the lingering remnants of the past from my mind. Now was all that mattered. Eager to learn all of him, I let my fingertips wander from his chest to his jawline, loving the rough, gritty-sugar feel of the stubble that studded his skin. I touched the place where our lips met, and his tongue grazed the pads of my fingers as he opened wide to taste me. His low groan made my lips tingle, did things to me, made me feel alive and free and so, so sensitized.
"I want you," he almost moaned, somehow managing to keep kissing me at the same time.
I wanted to let him have me. Had anything ever felt this good? I couldn't remember.
He turned us suddenly and pressed me into the wall. My head hit the drywall with a thump, but his roughness made the whole thing hotter. His lips were so soft but firm, and I couldn't help taking one between my teeth, nipping at the lush curve. He grunted and nipped me right back, forcing my head harder against the wall. It was impossible to miss the hard ridge of his erection that rode long and thick against my belly as his hips rolled against mine, and it was impossible to misinterpret his enjoyment of this encounter. He wanted me...and it felt so good.
A high-pitched laugh broke through the bubble of arousal that sheltered us. My eyes popped open to meet his, coming face-to-face with stormy-green surprise. The sound grew louder, the bearer closer, and I realized we were about to get caught.
I did not want that to happen. I was pretty sure I'd cry if it happened.
Without thinking, I pushed Edward away from me and grabbed his hand, tugging him through the nearest doorway and slamming the door shut behind us.
"Have you seen Bella?" It was Alice, her voice a little muffled by drink and the heavy oak door that hid us from the rest of the room.
"Nah...maybe she went home. That is, if her stoned ass could even make it across the hall." He started cackling like some kind of southern donkey, and I scowled at the closed door. "Did you hear all that coughing? Classic!" Thanks, asshole. Edward snickered behind me and I elbowed him.
"You're an ass, Jasper," Alice said, but didn't sound too pissed on my behalf. "But yeah, she's so out of shape." Her giggle joined his braying, and I fumed.
"Hey, I'm not—" I started, offended, but Edward clapped a hand over my mouth. The rest of the conversation in the other room faded away as he turned me to face him.
"Do you want them to come in here looking for you?" He dropped his hand from my face, trailing a finger down over the curve of my neck, snaking the other arm around my back to pull me closer. I shook my head mutely. "And why's that?" he asked softly, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. The room was mostly dark except for the tiny bit of ambient light shining from the nightlight behind him. His handsome face was a mixture of shadows and pale skin, and I wanted to kiss him again.
"Because I wasn't finished kissing you," I whispered.
"Good," he said, his breath hitting my lips. "That's really fucking good." I opened to him right away, eager to pick up where we'd left off. He sidled closer, until we were glued together chest to toe, and I moaned when I felt him still hard against me.
Flattening my palms against his chest, I drew my hands down, savoring the feel of firm muscle and bone, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Hesitating as I reached his waistband, afraid to go lower, I brushed my fingers over the divot of his navel, wishing I could touch his bare skin. Would he stop me? Would it ruin the moment? Did he want to take this as far as it would go?
Because holy fuck, I wanted to.
Letting that last thought fuel my courage, I went for it, slipping my fingertips under the hem of his t-shirt, humming at the warmth of his skin, teasing the wiry hairs just above the top button of his jeans. His muscles went hard as a rock beneath my touch, and everything changed, intensified. He angled his head to deepen our kiss, his tongue dancing with mine; lower, his hand moved down to cover the curve of my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulled my hips up to his and ground himself against me.
Hell, yes...looks like it's all systems go.
I couldn't resist exploring more of him, and I pushed my hands completely under the soft cotton of his shirt, tracing his sides, feeling the flex and pull of muscle made even more evident by his accelerated breathing. As I went higher, he broke the kiss and I opened my eyes to find him watching again, our foreheads pressed together as we shared labored breaths. He pushed a lock of hair from my face, his touch lingering on the curve of my cheek and over the turn of my jaw.
"You're so pretty, Bella. I've always thought so." The talking sounded out of place in the dimly lit room, yet I wanted to hear more. But when he backed away a bit and removed his shirt in some ridiculously sexy move where he reached behind his head and nearly ripped it off instead, I wasn't too disappointed. My throat went a little dry, and I could have sworn a firework went off somewhere inside me as I blatantly ogled his chest. Not like I'd never done that before the few times I'd had the pleasure of seeing him in swim trunks and shirtless, but it was so much different now. Back then, I was firmly in "look, but don't touch" mode. Now I was free to touch. To taste.
A dumb grin pulled at my mouth as he reached behind me to lock the door, anticipation flooding my whole body at the sharp click of metal on metal. It made me think of sparks, which made me think of us together, skin to skin. "You're not so bad yourself, Edward." I might have slurred, and definitely got a little tripped up and dropped the "E." Way to go, moron. You called him "'Dward." But how could I blame myself? I was really fucking high, my blood was liberally diluted with alcohol, and all of that was rushing elsewhere in my body. Lots lower. My tongue simply didn't have the willpower or energy to do anything that wasn't related to kissing him.
Gracing me with a sexy, heavy-lidded smile, he closed the gap between us and reached for the hem of my shirt. "Your turn," he said simply, and slid his fingers underneath the fabric. The backs of his knuckles barely skimmed my sides as he stripped it off over my head, dropping it to the floor at our feet. My bra was gone a second later, and his mouth was fastened to the base of my neck while his hands greedily charted my bared skin.
"You're impossibly fast." Shit, mouth, be quiet!
He just smiled against my shoulder in response, his hard hands at my hips guiding me backward. When I inevitably stumbled over my own feet, his arms kept me from toppling. The backs of my thighs hit something hard, and Edward lifted me to sit on the wooden surface easily. A desk, then.
"And strong." Christ, why can't I shut up?
"Bella?" he asked, lips burning a light trail up to mine.
"Shh." He wrapped my legs around his hips and then planted one big palm flat against my back as he closed his mouth over mine, kissing me so hard that he forced my back to arch over his arm, my nipples brushing against the sparse hair on his chest. The hard line of his erection pressed right where I needed it, causing the seam of my jeans to rub my clit in the most delicious way. I locked my ankles around him, trying to increase the friction.
His other hand was gripping my ribs, the back of his hand barely grazing the lower curve of my breast. My nipples tightened even more, and I was sure I'd die when he finally touched them. I'd probably die if he didn't. When he finally did it, I think I did die. He bit down on my lower lip and at the same time, he brushed the pad of his thumb over my nipple before pinching it firmly. I moaned into his mouth, amazed at how good it felt.
I'd never felt anything so good. Ever.
"Shh," he reminded me, releasing my lip to kiss me fully again. "I'm not done with these gorgeous tits." His low and gritty tone made my clit throb, or maybe it was just the way he was now palming my breast, his hand nearly covering the whole thing.
I let my hands wander as we kissed, and when I encountered his jeans, I slipped the top button from its mooring. The rest of his buttons were opened with an easy yank, and I didn't even waste time with an over-the-boxers grope before I shoved my hand inside to encircle his erect dick. His mouth went slack against mine and he started trailing kisses down my throat, then lower. He covered a nipple in one lush lick before taking it into his mouth, sucking gently at first but finishing hard. Hot green eyes looked up to mine as I squeezed him in my palm.
"How do you want me?" With perpetual Priapism and tied to my bed...
"Just...now!" I panted, going for the button of my own jeans before he could. He took over, lowering the zipper and lifting me to stand so he could shimmy the pants down to my knees.
And then he spun me around. Oh, God...yes.
A foil packet ripped behind me, and I saw the flash of the wrapper out of the corner of my eye as he tossed it toward the trash basket. I couldn't be bothered to check if he made it or not, because I was blatantly staring as he rolled the condom on, and the sight of his sheathed cock jutting out from his open jeans was one of the most erotic things I'd ever seen. I watched as he came closer until his body filled my vision and he was fitted against my back.
He bracketed my hips with his hands, slipping his thumbs underneath the elastic of my panties, pulling me back toward him. I rested my hand atop his and guided him to lower the black fabric; he slowly complied, dragging his fingertips along my flesh until the scrap fell to the floor.
"Can you spread your legs a little more for me?" he asked softly, pressing a sweet kiss to my earlobe. I complied and heard him whisper, "Good girl," but it was so soft I wasn't sure he wanted me to hear. In response, I leaned forward a little and pushed my hips back against him, smiling when he groaned and palmed my cheek, his thumb dipping down between my thighs. Then he bent his legs and I felt the tip of him probing my lips, hot and hard, burning...and so thick. He didn't seem to be in any sort of hurry, which was fine with me because the sensation of his flesh stretching mine so slowly, so deliberately, was the most intense thing I'd ever felt. A hoarse moan slipped out of me and he stopped, running a gentle hand over the length of my back. "You okay, Bel?"
"So okay." I was panting and didn't even care if he knew it. "More, Edward." And did he just call me Bel? It did things to me. Dirty, embarrassing things. I went by a damn nickname all the time; why did people feel the need to give me another one? Coming from him, though, it was hot. I'm such a hypocrite.
He laughed, gritty and breathless, and pushed forward until his hips met my ass and I had to stand on tiptoe to touch the floor. "Is that better?"
"Fuck..." My vocabulary had degenerated to only curses and slang, it seemed. But who needed to speak eloquently at a time like this?
He curved his body around mine, his hands everywhere, but he wouldn't move inside me. I was full of him; he felt so good, so different, just so...so...perfect. His fingertips ventured lower and lower, past my navel, playing at the sensitive flesh below, spreading his fingers wide, one of them grazing the top of my slit. I tried not to move, I really did. I squirmed, arching my hips back at his, and once I moved, neither of us could stop. He anchored his hands beside mine and thrust fully. Again. And again and...
"You feel so good," he breathed, burying his nose in my hair. I could only hum a response and moan as he reached up to pinch my nipples, thumbing the sensitive peaks one at a time in no discernible rhythm, which felt fucking perfect in time with his strong, perfectly-timed thrusts. He seemed to know my body perfectly, and he seemed to know just when I was ready for a different touch. Slowing the movement of his hips to a lazy roll, he trailed his hand down the midline of my body, pausing to coat himself in our wetness.
Soft, slick fingertips brushed my clit too lightly. "Please, right there. More," I begged, almost growling in frustration when he repeated the exact same torturing motion. He laughed softly and stopped messing around, caressing me in tiny circles that had me close to exploding much faster than I'd known was possible.
Edward was taking me from behind, but there was nothing detached or impersonal about this act. I had no doubt who was behind me and he made sure of it; one arm was planted right beside mine on the desktop, fingers overlapping, his other hand buried between my thighs, fingers wet and slick. The lean muscles of his chest pressed tightly to my back and his head hung down over my shoulder, his cheek touching mine. All I had to do to kiss him was turn my head toward his, and he seemed quite happy that I did it often. It was a lot easier to keep myself quiet that way.
When he bent me all the way forward to rest on my elbows and urged me to put one knee on the desk, I almost lost it. When he bent his knees again, one strong thigh brushing the back of mine as he mirrored my position, I nearly bit through my lip. He was so thick, and I could feel him so deep...
He braced himself on one elbow and moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, still rubbing the peak of my sex in a tiny-circled counterpoint. His balls brushed against the underside of my clit at the end of each thrust, and it was enough to send me flying. We were both too loud as I clamped down on him and he went rigid above me as he held on through my climax.
"Come, Edward," I breathed when his touch became too much, pulling his fingers away from me as I pushed my hips back at his, hard.
"Fuck, yes," he gritted as he slammed into me twice, three more times, groaning as he spilled into the condom and collapsed onto my back, his chest working overtime. "Holy shit."
Holy shit, indeed.
I just fucked Edward. My friend.
And it was so, so good.
О Ж О
The next morning I woke up feeling like there was an axe buried in my head, bright light streaming through the open blinds and slicing right through my skull. I was positive I must look like one of those cartoons they always draw for people in sinus medicine commercials. My head was literally a giant cartoon nose and forehead. "Ow," I groaned, because it hurt too much to do any more than that.
"Fuck," came a deep voice from the other side of the bed. "I'd swear I was dead if I didn't hurt so fucking much."
"Uh-huh," I agreed, something tickling at the back of my brain. I tried to find a reason why I should be uncomfortable that Edward was in bed with me, but aside from the roaring hangover, I liked that he was there.
"Did you try to kill me last night? With an axe or something?" I heard him stretch while he asked, the sheets rustling, and he finished with a little whimper that made me want to hug him. Well, maybe just pat his hand, because that would hurt less. For both of us.
"Are you reading my mind? I was just going to ask you if there was an axe in my head." It was hard to talk over the pounding agony of my pulse, not to mention my dry mouth, and my tongue felt two sizes too big.
"Some hangover," he groaned, rolling over. I barely managed to turn my head to the side. He looked like I felt, but in spite of the puffy, red-rimmed eyes and the pillow creases on his cheek, he still managed to be pretty. I imagined I looked like the mail guy at the Afterlife office in Beetlejuice. The flat guy with tire tracks all over him.
"Axe-murdering hangover," I groaned. I think his lips twitched at that one. "I'll give you a hundred dollars if you get me a drink of water."
"It's your place," he whined, making a face.
"I drank more than you." I tried batting my eyelashes, hoping it looked sweet. It just made my head hurt.
"You're the one who busted out the weed."
"You lit it." Take that!
He sighed and tossed the covers off his body. "Okay. Fine. I'll go." Putting a hand to his forehead, he slowly stood and hobbled feebly toward the door.
"Glasses are in the cabinet above the dishwasher," I said, watching him all the way. He's naked? Am I naked? Oh, Jesus, he has ass-dimples! Manly ones, of course.
I couldn't wait till he came back. If the front view was nearly as good as the rear... I suddenly didn't have a saliva problem anymore. The man had the world's finest ass.
I squirmed a little in the sheets, because apparently it's possible to be really hungover and really horny at the same time. My nipples beaded and the blanket provided some nice friction to counteract my pounding headache. That's when my brain caught up with my body.
Wow, I was naked.
I was naked with Edward, and we had sex last night. In fact, that was the last thing I remembered, as if whatever came after simply didn't matter.
Naked Edward. Sex.
Naked Edward chose that moment to come back, bearing a glass of ice water with a bendy straw and a bottle of aspirin. He dropped the medicine to the bedside table nearest my head, starting when it bounced once and rolled toward the edge. Scrambling to catch the wayward pain pills, he forgot about the glass in his hand and dribbled cold water on my head. I squealed embarrassingly and then clutched my head in agony, which made him laugh and then grab his head respectively. While he secured everything, I dabbed the water off my face.
"Why do you keep straws in your medicine cabinet?" he asked, opening the pill bottle and shaking the medicine loose into his palm.
"I don't know, I do weird things like that sometimes. You know, cereal box in the fridge, milk in the pantry..." How could he expect me to talk when I was eye-level with his junk?
And what nice junk it was...
"Straws in the medicine cabinet?" He looked doubtfully at me for a second and then handed me three aspirin, holding the water so I could grab it.
After we finished medicating ourselves, I asked, "What were you doing in my medicine cabinet?"
"Getting the aspirin," he laughed, pulling me to lay my head on his chest. "The straw was just an afterthought."
"Oh, that was nice of you." The feel of all his naked skin against mine was helping the horniness overcome the hangover of death. I thought I should probably feel guilty for being naked in bed with Edward, and I was surprised that there was, for the most part, no awkwardness between us. It felt right to snuggle up with him to nurse our pounding heads together, like my body was made to lie against his chest. Just the smell of him was comforting on its own, the traces of clean-scented cologne mingling with his own scent.
"I don't know why this doesn't feel weird," Edward said, reading my mind again.
"I was thinking the same thing. And it feels much better than weird." I turned my head and pressed my lips to his collarbone. Sure, I still felt like hell, but even though I was still hurting from the break-up, I wanted to be exactly where I was. With Edward. He didn't expect anything from me other than what I was willing to give. Edward was comfortable. And definitely fuckable.
I most definitely lost some brain cells last night.
О Ж О
The next time I woke up, my headache was mostly gone. Edward was already awake, watching me with those deep-sea eyes, a soft smile on his face.
"Morning." His voice was still deep and rumbly, and did things to my lady parts.
I blushed; I couldn't help it. "I think it's more like afternoon."
His eyes flicked to the alarm clock and he groaned. "One-thirty? We are officially too old for drinking like that. Emmett warned me it was all downhill from thirty..."
I couldn't help laughing at the sad look on his face, because I couldn't tell if it was because Emmett was right or because we were both in the last throes of our twenties. Eventually he laughed along with me, giving me a light hug at the end.
Why is this so easy? Isn't this the part in the movie where the couple that hooked up have an awkward as hell conversation and completely pussyfoot around what they really want?
Like more sex. Thank God I hadn't blacked out—I remembered everything and it was glorious. I wanted more. Lots more.
"Should we..." He gestured one hand to the way I was lying practically on top of him. "Should we talk about what happened last night?" he asked hesitantly.
"Umm..." I drew out the word a little, trying to buy some time. Damnit, there goes the easy shit.
"I think I took advantage of you, Bella. I shouldn't have let things go that far; we should take our time. I'm—"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry, Cullen," I interrupted, finally finding my voice. "Please do not apologize for the best sex of my life. I might have been drunk—and really freaking high, thanks to your sister—but I certainly remember how hard you made me come."
He grinned widely. "The best?"
"Uh...yeah, by far." I nodded vigorously, which was a mistake. Ouch. So the headache wasn't completely gone yet.
"Same here. Even better than all the times I imagined." Wait...he imagined?
He pulled me closer to him, one of his hands sliding down my back, hesitating at the curve of my ass. My blush started traveling south and I bit my lip, hoping he'd keep going. "So, you're sure it was the best?" he whispered his lips grazing my ear as he spoke. "Maybe we should try it again, so you can compare one more time. I'm nothing if not thorough. You get a more accurate result if you increase the sample size."
"Oh, God." I guessed it was good enough for him. He rolled me to my back, wedging his hips between my thighs. His mouth burned across my chest, nipping the top swells of my breasts, licking at the hollow of my throat. He finally smoothed his hand down to squeeze the swell where my thigh met body, his fingertips teasing still-sensitive lips of my sex, stroking me open. I could feel the head of him slipping into me and I threw my head back into the pillow, arching toward him.
"What the fuck is going on here?"
I peeked around Edward's shoulder to find a very unwanted visitor looming in my bedroom doorway.
I met Edward's surprised—yet still smoldering eyes—and we both froze, mouthing curses at each other. His eyebrows rose, then mine mirrored his; I'd widen my eyes, he would do the same thing. I was the first one to stifle a laugh, then he tried to "shh" me and ended up laughing instead. Before long, we were cracking up in that sort of insane way that people have when they've got no idea what else to do. I wondered if we were still high... Then I noticed that he was still just barely in me—and still very hard. I could feel each laugh, and I really wanted James gone.
The laughter abruptly stopped and Edward's eyes darkened to a molten green. With one last squeeze of my ass underneath the sheet, he pulled away and laid on his stomach by my side, and I liked that he didn't distance himself from me. Don't worry, Edward, James has got nothing on you. I'd been right last night—he was pretty everywhere. Especially below the belt.
"You really need to leave," I said finally, pointing toward the door.
"I can't believe this, Bella!" James sputtered, gesturing wildly to the pile of clothes right next to the bed.
I started laughing again, amused by the irony of the situation.
Oh yeah—my story was different. I was single.
Edward took pity on me and rolled over, sitting up and raising his knees a bit. I caught James looking in the area of Edward's crotch, so I couldn't help but stare, and then looking away became impossible. My eyes widened as I noticed the outline of the head of his penis poking against the sheet. Wait...was that a...a leak? Thank God my sheets were white!
"She's asked you to leave once already, James. Don't make her ask again." Edward's voice was cool and collected, but I knew him well enough to know he was masking the signs of anger.
"Get out, and leave your fucking key," I said, in a grouchy mood because I'd been severely cock-blocked by my cheating ex. I'd always wanted to lay that on someone, like I was singing a garbled version of that Cake cover of "I Will Survive."
"What are you...? When...? Who's that douche?" James finally spat out, fuming.
"Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but this is my friend, Edward. You've met him several times. Now. Get. Out."
"Fine," he growled, turning on his heel and stalking out. The loud bang of the door slamming shut made me jump.
Edward let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Holy shit, Swan, you've gotta change your locks."
"First thing Monday, I promise."
He pounced on me suddenly, looming over me as he pushed me to my back. "I'm glad you didn't make me leave. I like being in bed with you like this."
"Me, too." I swallowed hard, relaxing as his lips curved into a warm smile.
"So...what now? I'm not ready for this to end, Bella."
I wasn't either. I had no reason to mope about the past any more—since it was looking like my future had been right under my nose the whole time.
"Would it be inappropriate to request that we pick up where we were before?" I asked in a hopeful voice.
He made a thoughtful face and then said, "I don't believe so." He was still smiling as he leaned over me and took my mouth, his tongue dipping inside right away. His hips were between my thighs before I knew he'd moved, his erection pushing inside me, hot and hard and slick. Everything else fell away as he surrounded me, and I learned that sober sex with Edward was even better.
Everything with Edward was better.
Thanks again to Yoga_Gal and AngstGoddess003 for hosting this contest. I had a blast writing this thing (and an even better time getting 'prepared' for it).
Thanks to the judges for thinking this was good enough for third place in the contest, and special thanks to HunterHunting for writing the super nice review on the High Times profile.
For those of you who've asked for more, I've written more of these two already. It's coming. If you don't already have me on author alert, you might want to add me, in case I want to change the title of the extended story. I'm so indecisive. I can't decide if I like the current title for an extension.