Title: Let Go
Summary: What if you loved someone with all your heart and soul, but they weren't capable of loving you back? How long would you wait…before you let go?
Word Count: 490
Disclaimer: I don't own. That sucks. But I have awesome friends & a hot wifey. That's good.
I watched her body twist and turn under my hands—the way her neck arched, her mouth hanging open in mid-moan, her stomach muscles flexing each time I pushed deeper into her. My fingers trailed along her hips, slipping under her and lifting as I shifted to my knees. She cried out when my cock hit a different part inside of her, the deepest spot yet.
The lamp on the table spread shadows across the room, the darkness and light playing on her body. Her hands gripped the iron headboard, her muscles tensing with every thrust. Her eyelids closed tight, the way I liked them.
Her soft voice flowed through the room, the only accompanying sounds being flesh against flesh, and creaking furniture. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of her around me, how warm and wet she was. My mind replayed the feeling of her wet heat wrapped around my tongue only moments earlier, and the feel of her hardened nipples between my fingers.
I thrust powerfully into her, trying desperately to envision the woman I ached for. Remembering how her lips moved against mine, how she breathed heavily against my chest, how our hands affectionately caressed one another. I remembered looking deeply into her brown eyes, so overcome with lust and need for me.
I felt myself coil, winding tight inside of her. The yearning built up at a steady pace in my stomach and suddenly I was on fire, pushing harder and faster into her.
"Fuck...oh, shit," I called out, thrusting a few last times as I spilled deep within her. Collapsing on top of her, our bodies glisten with sweat, soft breasts pushing against my chest as we both struggled to catch our breath. I felt her fingers in my hair, lovingly twisting and weaving through the locks just behind my ear. The same way she used to.
Lifting off of her, I reached for my pants.
I looked down at her lying on the bed. "I have to, she's waiting."
Sorrow filled her eyes. "She's my best friend, Edward. When are you gonna let go?"
Once finished dressing, I leaned down to kiss her lips. "I'll call you tomorrow, Angela."
On the drive my mind flashed with what I knew I'd find when I got there: curious looks, nods of pity, and accusatory whispers. It didn't matter, she'd be sleeping.
The heavy door pushed open, moonlight filling the space. She lay on the bed, still and alone. The room was silent, except for the beeping of machines that kept her with me—alive, if you could call it that. She'd hate me if she was able to. The accident wasn't her fault; she just saw the truck too late.
"Hey baby, I'm here. I miss you, Bella." I kissed her hand, whispering "I love you" against her skin, knowing the answer to Angela's question.
I'd never let go.