M for Mature
Summary: Edward has a dark secret. A compulsion. An addiction. To soft creamy skin and hypnotic brown eyes. Will his intense obsession destroy him or somehow be his salvation? AH. E/B.
I wrote this for mostlyalurker for her and Leo's HEA.
Thanks to my beta Twilifed113 and my pre-reader gjficfan for their awesome feedback.
I want to see you. I'm desperate.
To be deep inside you.
But I'll never tell you that.
I hear you before I see you. A clicking, and the door opens.
A rustling. The sound of your bag falling to the floor.
The sight of you brings relief. And want. And sin.
Your eyes search the empty room for me.
Slowly, I step out of the shadows. Hands in my pockets.
I freeze, unmoving and watch you.
And I wait. Again.
I can be patient. If I choose to be.
I notice your heels. The curve of your calves. My cock thickens as I mull over what is or hopefully is not under that skirt.
That short skirt.
I want to tell you that this fuck is going to be quick and hard.
But I don't.
We don't speak. Words are meaningless. Worthless.
The words are in your eyes. They exist on your silent lips as your mouth parts slightly.
I lick my lips as I watch yours.
I want your mouth on me. Maybe on my cock.
You take a step towards me. Hesitant.
That's what I've been waiting for. Your movement. Your assent.
Quickly, so quickly, I'm standing inches from you. Even with your fuck me heels on, I tower over you. I like that you are small. Dainty. Petite.
No touching. Not yet. I let my eyes scorch the little bits of your exposed skin.
Your fingers wrap around my tie. And pull. Hard.
You need this almost as much as I do. I revel in your craving for me. I gloat in it.
Lust glows in your eyes. There is passion alight. Desire and cravings and salaciousness. Emotion without affection.
I know the dark space between your legs is wet. Calling to me. I know that the moisture there glistens like the fiery hunger in your eyes.
You know how hard and thick I am for you.
Lips touch. Harshly. Intensely. Urgently.
Your tongue tastes like cinnamon. It's spicy. Delectable.
I suck it hard into my mouth. I want more.
You're against the door. Because I shove you against it. You gasp a little. You like it rough. But I have to be careful.
I hitch your skirt up to your waist.
I smile my approval at you before I'm on my knees ready to devour. My tongue is on you. In you. Swirling. Curling. Snaking. Dipping. In and out of your wetness. You're tangy. Tart. And tasty.
You writhe and moan. My hair is yanked. Jerked. By your small hands. I want the pain it produces.
You're panting. Above me. Because of me.
I'm lightly teasing your clit. Little nibbles. Bites. Nips. I make sure it's not enough.
My cock aches. Weeps for you.
You say a word. One word. The only word that has been spoken since you stepped into this dimly lit room. "Please." Your voice is raspy. You want me to give you more.
My body craves you. Like an insatiable addiction. The fire I have for you can only be quenched by your moistness.
But not yet.
I want to feel you spasm. Quake. Shiver.
A finger. Another finger. Finds your opening.
I can hear you. Your fingernails clawing at the door. My tongue and fingers play your beautiful pussy like it's a delicate instrument. I work you into a symphonic frenzy.
"Fuck," you cry out. Your legs weaken. Your silky blouse-covered chest heaves. But I'm not done.
I stand up. Your eyes are hooded. Heavy. They lazily dip. Lower. To where I'm aching for you. I know what you want. The pleasure you want to give me with your mouth. But not tonight.
My hands make fast work of my belt. Everything below my waist hits the floor. My suit jacket, dress shirt, and tie all stay untouched.
I lift. I spread. I enter you. Quick and hard. Sheathing myself inside you. You cry out from my invasion. Your hot, wet warmth surrounds me. Sucks me in. Consumes me.
My lips and tongue coated in your wetness invade your mouth. As I kiss you. You like your taste. It feeds your lust.
My pace is relentless. Raw. Primal grunts and groans escape my lips. My thrusts are sharp and rapid. I pant hard against your creamy neck.
The door shakes and creaks with my pounding. I get closer and closer. My cock moves in and out of you in rapid succession. I increase my speed. I feel it coming.
That moment of pure euphoria.
A growl deep inside of my chest explodes from my mouth as I feel myself releasing hot spurt after hot spurt deep inside of you into your darkest depths.
The pleasure is so intense that it weakens me. I lean us hard against the door so I don't collapse. I stay connected to you as I try to catch my breath. I smell your hair. It smells of coconuts, reminding me of somewhere else.
With sunshine and sea shells.
I look at you. Your face is rosy red hot.
Luminous. Pouty, kissed lips. Beautiful.
I feel satisfied. My hunger for you fulfilled. But it's always temporary. I wonder how long it will last.
Possibly an hour?
The satisfaction your body gives me is always short-lived. Until I yearn for more.
You watch my eyes. There are things there that I don't want you to see. I keep them hidden. Tucked away.
I set your heels down on the carpet and hold onto you. For just a moment. You are still watching my eyes. You nod. To let me know you're okay. That I can let you go now.
Clothes are adjusted. Rearranged. You step into the bathroom. The light illuminates softly under the door.
I sit down and wait. The colors of the carpet under my black, shiny shoes become fascinating. .
The door opens. I stand, but I'm quiet. I walk towards you as you put the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
I don't want to hear the words. The back of my fingers brush your cheek. Lightly. Ever so lightly.
"I have to go." The undesirable words are spoken. From your soft lips.
My lips brush against yours.
You turn and leave. I watch the door as it closes.
That's when I realize that I just fucked you and didn't utter a single word.
Guilt. I feel it. It tries to drown me. I try to flush it away. But it lingers. Always. I don't like associating it with you.
I dream about you. When I sleep. While I'm awake.
I don't want to. If I could, I would purge every thought of you from my soul. Erase every memory.
My addiction for you burns. I can feel it in my fingertips.
I need to see you. I miss your taste.
I fight my demons. I wrestle with my obsession for you. But it is always the victor.
I have only known you for six months. Yet I wish I had never met you.
If only I had kept walking past that coffee shop that fateful day.
If only I hadn't darted in there to get out of the pouring rain.
If only you weren't there at that precise moment.
If only my eyes had never looked upon you.
That's all it took. One glance. And my addiction was born.
Regrets are a bitch.
I tell myself that I will not call you. So simple. Yet nearly impossible. I have to heal this sickness that I have for you. This depraved disease. It's eating me alive. Both of us.
I try to consider you. How this is affecting you. To put you first. But I'm a selfish bastard. I'm a powerful man.
Do I have a God complex?
I'm simply a man who knows what he wants and takes it. I wanted you. The moment I saw you. I was relentless in my pursuit of you. But it was my addiction for you fueling my behavior. At least that's how I reason it.
It's been six days since I wordlessly fucked you. That's a record. Not an accomplishment to be proud of. The longest I've gone without you is five days. I increased it by a day. It sounds so inconsequential. But when dealing with addiction, every second is momentous. Especially when there is an unsated burning inside, roasting me alive.
I'm in my limo when I pull out my phone. A particular phone. A phone that only calls one other phone. The phone that I gave you.
I send one text. I only press one character before I hit the send button.
It's simple. It's effective. You know what it means.
I wait. As I wait for your response, my need for you becomes almost overwhelming.
I hear the alert and my anxious eyes are on my phone.
A sense of calm comes over me since I know my next fix is coming very soon.
"Seth? Change of plans," I tell my limo driver.
"Yes, sir. Where to?" he asks.
"The Carlyle." Eyes meet in the rearview mirror. He nods. Seth is a man of impeccable loyalty.
I put away that phone. I pull out my other phone. I check email, send off a few necessary texts and make several phone calls before we arrive at our destination.
I vow to myself that tonight will be different. Not a wordless fuck against a door.
I enter the room. I slip off my suit jacket. I loosen my tie.
I pour myself some Vodka while I wait. The burn feels good down my throat.
I stare out the window at the darkened New York skyline littered with millions of lights.
I hear you enter the room. My cock begins to harden at just the thought of you being near me.
I don't turn.
Your hands tentatively touch my back. Explore my shoulders. They wrap around and feel my chest and abs. And graze my hard cock.
I turn. And gaze at you. I let myself consume your beauty.
It captures me.
"Bella, I…." Your fingers touch my lips. Stop my words. You shake your head. You tell me everything with your eyes.
"This is enough," you say quietly.
And it is.
Slowly, very slowly we undress each other. We are on the bed. Hot skin touching hot skin.
Tongues on secret places.
Touches not enough. Needy. Desperate in their pursuit.
Touches too much. Full of significance. Allusion. And implications.
I watch you as you ride my cock.
Reddened skin down to the curve of your breasts.
My tongue runs over every inch of your heated skin. I've lost control. My hands. My lips. My tongue. My eyes. My cock. They no longer belong to me. They are yours. All over you. In you.
I hear mumbled curses slip from your lips as you breathlessly shatter on me.
I explode into you with such ferocity that it is almost painful.
I hold you tightly to me and try to enjoy this moment. It doesn't last long.
You pull away from me. I have the strong desire to yank you back. But I don't.
You move to the restroom. Shortly after, you come out and begin dressing.
I watch you.
I desperately want to talk to you. But I don't know what to say. So I stay silent.
You finish dressing. You stand motionless, staring at me for a long moment.
Confessions are conceived, shaped and poised to be shared. But I can't form the words on my lips.
I want to tell you how sorry I am for what I've done to you. How ill it makes me when I think about the darkness I've drawn you into.
I want to tell you that you mean more to me than just a fuck.
I want to tell you that I'll stop. That I won't call you again. But I can't. I can't break the addiction. It's taken root. I'm powerless against it.
"Well, I'll see you soon?" you ask. Fear flashes briefly in your beautiful eyes. I hate that your addiction is equivalent to mine.
"Yes. Soon," I breathe quietly. A relieved smile plays along your swollen lips.
You open the door and turn back around to look at me. "Bye," you whisper quietly.
I nod. "Soon," I confirm again.
I take a shower. I don't want to remove the remnants of you. It pains me to wash you off of my body.
I get dressed. Back in my suit and tie. I pour myself another drink. I stare at the liquid. I want to get drunk. I don't want to remember anymore.
I stand by the window again as the fiery liquid coats my throat.
My phone rings.
The phone that never rings.
That one. Is ringing.
Confusion rolls over me in waves.
I pull out the phone.
"Yes?" I answer, a nervous tinge to my tone.
"Edward, he knows," you say in a frightened voice.
"Jake knows. He was waiting for me outside."
This isn't how things were supposed to happen. This was supposed to be different. I'm terrified for you.
"Are you okay? What did he say?"
I hear your soft sob. "He called me a… whore." You don't deserve this. It hurts me. So much. Cuts me deeply.
"Bella, you know that's not true, right? Please don't listen to what he says. He can't understand. He can't know this connection… this thing we have…." I don't understand it myself.
Your voice is small when you speak. "Okay." I don't want to see you in pain. Ever.
I want to comfort you. "Where are you?" I ask.
"I'm on my way to my apartment. He told me to… pack my things."
The knowledge of something I've been denying breaks free. I feel calm. Resolved. "Pack what you need. Meet me back here as soon as you are done."
I know what I must do.
I call Seth to take me to my apartment.
I find her in the kitchen.
"Edward," she exclaims happily. Blissfully unaware. "How was your day?"
"Busy. Where are the kids?"
"In bed," Tanya says as she pulls a plate from the oven. "Are you hungry? Jess made chicken with mango salsa. I saved you a plate."
"No. I'm good. Sit down, Tanya."
She studies my face for a moment.
They all flit across her features. Before she sits.
"Tanya. There are things we need to discuss."
She sighs. "Like what?"
"There's something really important that I need to tell you." I pause. I don't want to say the words. But I have to. For you. "I've met someone."
I expect anger.
I expect rage.
I expect disbelief.
Instead her expression looks tired. "You really thought I didn't know about her? You think I'm that fucking stupid, Edward? Of course I knew about her. I don't care about the itches you need to scratch as long as you come home to me at the end of the day."
I frown. "I want a divorce, Tanya."
"How can you ask for a divorce? I just gave you permission to fuck whoever you wanted on the side. How can you pass up an opportunity like that?"
This is the reaction I didn't expect. But realize it's the one reaction that I need. It's a confirmation. "The fact that you are not the least bit upset about my profession of having an affair just proves to me exactly what I suspected. You don't love me, Tanya. You haven't for a long time. You love my money. And what I can provide for you. I can't continue like this. I'll get with my attorney and draw the papers up."
"Fuck you, Edward. You are a fucking bastard, you know that?"
The truth hurts. "Yes. I know I am. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. Truly sorry."
I make my way to my children's bedrooms. I kiss them tenderly and whisper my apologies to them. I vow to make this up to them. To cause them the least amount of pain as possible. I won't make them pay for my sins.
I pack a bag. Seth takes me back to The Carlyle.
I see you on the bed when I step into the room. You are crying softly.
"Bella…." I rush to you. I kiss away your tears.
"What am I going to do?" you whisper. I know the answer to that. But you're not ready for it yet.
I want you to know that I'm in this with you. "I told Tanya. I'm getting a divorce."
You gasp. "But… but what about your kids?"
"I know it'll be hard on them, but we'll work it out. I'll take care of them. Don't worry." The lock on the cage that I've been trapped in falls off and crashes to the floor.
You sniffle. "Jake will be serving me divorce papers." Your voice is sad.
Full of guilt.
I stiffen hearing his name on your lips. I want to tell you how happy I am at the thought of you divorcing. I want to tell you how much I hate him. How jealous I am of him. But I can't tell you the wickedness of my thoughts.
I simply nod. And murmur, "I'm sorry." And wipe your tears. And rub your sweet, soft cheeks.
I know the days that lie before us are going to be filled with pain.
But I feel free. Already.
I want to tell you that we can now be together. But we still have so much ahead of us.
I want to tell you that I'm happy. But I know I shouldn't be.
But most of all, I want to tell you that I love you. But not yet.
I will tell you someday.