THE SCENT OF A WOMAN

A/N: This story is completely, totally the responsibility of Einfach_Mich. It began as a simple observation of seeing a new and incredibly gorgeous doc at work. Somehow, that observation worked its way into a one-shot about Carlisle and Angela. No, don't try to apply the logic. It will surely evade you.

Things I Own: A dirty as hell imagination that makes me think really naughty things at work.

Things I Do Not Own: Anything Twilight. It's all Stephenie's.

As I'm presenting the case review for our interdisciplinary team, she quietly walks into the room. I watch as she searches for an open seat. Since she's late, the only available ones are in the front of the room. Next to me. I can see her eyes open wide as that fact makes its way to her conscious brain. She adjusts her glasses and moves quietly to claim an empty chair while I continue talking about the case specifics. Those glasses make her look like a sexy librarian, and I need to tell my cock to settle the fuck down before I sprout wood in front of the entire group. I casually button the front button on my lab coat, just in case my cock refuses to be controlled.

Her slender hands carefully open her notebook and she begins to take notes. I sense her watching me closely, nodding her head from time to time. Every time she flips her long brown hair over her shoulder, this insanely delicious smell wafts over to me. It's not the typical, heavy perfume most women wear; it's far more subtle than that. She just smells clean and fresh, and I imagine myself burying my nose into her collarbone. I'm sure I'd find her skin to be soft. I'd like to feel its softness as I run my fingers over the surface, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

Focus, Cullen. You're giving a professional presentation to your colleagues.

I'm trying to pay close attention to what I'm saying, but she's making it difficult. She has these long, beautiful legs and she's wearing a dangerously short miniskirt. How the hell am I supposed to present a case when that's distracting me at every moment?

Fuck, she just uncrossed her legs, then recrossed them. What am I talking about, again? Case review. Right. Case review.

I manage to tie up my part of the presentation, but she didn't make it easy. I've never made so many dramatic pauses in my life.

I sit down next to her and notice that now her legs are crossed at the ankles, leaving her thighs slightly parted. I realize that they're far enough apart for me to slip my hand up there, and I wonder if she's wearing panties, and what kind of panties they are. Red? Lace? Thong?

"Carlisle?"

Shit. I just missed the question.

"Yes, I'm sorry. What's the question again?"

"When do we need to regroup?"

When we regroup, she'll be here. I'll be distracted by her legs. Again. I imagine those legs wrapped around my face, while I bury my tongue in her. I love discovering a woman's taste; it's like their personal signature. A cleared throat brings me back to the question that was just asked. Jesus, I've got it bad. Then again, I've always been a leg man. I place the blame for my distraction squarely on those legs, less than a foot away from my own.

"I'll have my assistant set up a meeting in two weeks. We'll distribute an e-mail with all the details."

I glance at Angela again, and I see that her shirt is unbuttoned enough for me to glimpse her cleavage. Between that blouse and her skirt, I'm toast. My eyes meet hers for a moment, and she gives me a shy smile. She knows I was appreciating her legs. I can't help but return her smile with something a bit more sly.

Once the meeting breaks up, I deal with a few side questions from some of my colleagues. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her standing alone, waiting, taunting me with those legs and that cleavage. Does she have any idea what she does to me?

When my last colleague finishes with his questions, I'm left with her. I reach out my hand, gently.

"I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. I don't think we've had the chance to meet."

"Angela Weber. I'm the new research librarian in the medical library."

"Oh, so you're responsible for digging up all the details I need for the case reviews."

Another beautiful, shy smile. "Yes, that would be me. I thought perhaps we could meet sometime soon, so I could set up some standard parameters for each case review. Make the research process a little more efficient."

"How does your schedule look this afternoon?"

Did that sound a bit too overeager?

"Uh, just a sec." She opens up her iPad to check her calendar. "That works, actually. What time?"

"Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Lunch?"

I'm not sure why that came out as a question. "Yes, you know, food? The kind that's eaten at specific times throughout the day?" I grin at her cheekily.

"No, I know, I was just surprised by your question. Ah, no, I ehrm, I haven't had lunch."

Her nervousness is delicious. "Should we pick something up and head over to my office? Do a working lunch kind of thing?"

Her eyes widen behind the lenses of her glasses at my suggestion, but she agrees anyhow. We decide to stop by the hospital cafeteria before going to my office. I walk behind her the entire way, ostensibly to be a gentleman, but I really just want to watch her ass moving in front of me. I simply want to cup it in my hands and commit it to memory. She has a beautiful hourglass figure, and I want so badly to appreciate her amazing curves.

I don't know what's gotten into me—I've never reacted this way to a colleague before. I pride myself on being the consummate professional. There's just something about the combination of her shy naivety and killer body that affects me in a completely disarming way. While Superman may have had his Kryptonite, I clearly have my Angela Weber.

We take our seats on either side of my desk, and I ask her about her professional background while we eat. I'm trying to pay attention to what she's telling me, but she keeps licking barbeque sauce off her fingers. She catches me watching her again, and this time her answering smile is anything but shy.

"Mmm, I love a good, sticky barbeque sauce," she teases, then slides the finger all the way into her mouth, removing it ever so slowly.

It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? They come off as innocents because they don't offer much in the way of personal opinion, but get them alone, and they can blossom in front of you. God, I want to see Angela Weber blossom.

I bet I can make her scream.

Where are all these lascivious thoughts coming from? I'm usually very respectful of women; I cherish them. Something about this girl, though, ratchets up my libido to molten lava levels. I want to fuck her senseless.

The tidbit of personal information she offers up to me after licking her fingers is unexpected. "I was a dance minor in college, until I injured my back."

A dancer. Flexible. Strong. Holy fuck.

She leans back in her chair, legs apart, and scoots her skirt up a little higher on her thighs. Her thigh highs and garter are now exposed.

They're red. The panties. I can't see enough to know if it's a thong. Yet.

I try to reclaim some composure; I don't make it a habit to screw my co-workers.

Doing it once wouldn't make it a habit, the devil on my left shoulder tells me.

I flick the angel on my right shoulder away. I don't much want to hear what he has to say.

"So, we need to be careful not to put any undue pressure on that back of yours."

"Yes, that's right."

I walk over to my bookshelves, adjusting myself when my back is turned to her. I shouldn't do what I want to do, but I'm going to do it anyway. As I'm trying not to listen to the devil on my shoulder, her scent is suddenly surrounding me. I look over my shoulder to see her standing directly behind me. I try very hard not to breathe; if I do, I'm certain I'll turn around and attack her, and I don't want to do that.

Well, I actually do want to do that, but it's unwise to do that.

While I'm having an internal argument with myself, Ms. Weber takes it upon herself to form fit her body to my backside. Reaching around, she finds my erection and palms it. My entire body jerks, both at the sensation and the surprise. I catch myself in a loud moan.

She whispers in my ear. "Do you know how long I've worked to get this position at the hospital, Dr. Cullen?"

I can't possibly speak when her hand is covering my cock, so I just shake my head.

"Since I did an internship as an undergrad. This is the only medical library I've ever wanted to work in, because you're here. I've wanted you for years."

"Me?" I clarify, confused.

"You sound surprised. You have to know that every woman in this hospital, married or single, wants you."

She gives my cock another good squeeze then walks around me, facing the wall. I watch as she unzips her skirt and it falls to the floor.

Her ass is now fully exposed—it's a thong. I should have guessed. God, what a vixen.

"I want you," she says seductively.

With that, my thin veneer of professionalism vanishes. I sidle up behind her, rubbing my cock between her cheeks. I squeeze them with my hands, then reach down to unhook the garters. She arches her back into me to increase the friction.

I deftly remove her flimsy excuse for underwear and whisper a command in her ear. "Spread those gorgeous legs apart. You've been driving me to distraction since you walked into the case review."

I turn her body to face mine, and her lips are right in front of me. They're plump and pouty, just crying out for a kiss. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and give it a little nip. "You're such a naughty girl for making me want you so badly."

Her breath hitches, just the reaction I was looking for. I deepen the kiss and cup her ass once again, pulling her body into my hard cock.

With her pouty lips, hourglass curves, and librarian glasses, this woman just oozes sexiness. It's been far too long since I've had sex, and my defenses are weak. I can't resist her, nor do I want to.

"Shirt. Off. Now," I grunt. She's reduced me to single syllable words, but complies with my demands.

She's wearing one of those bras, the kind that practically push a woman's tits up into their chin. I look down at her cleavage and I just want to bury myself in there, so I do. I pinch her nipples through the lace, hard. She moans, so I do it again. I want to push every button that I need to in order to have her scream. I want to turn this shy, quiet vixen into a talking—no, babbling—mess.

My hands head southbound, where my fingers slide easily along her slit; she's so wet for me. I want my mouth on her, but there isn't really a convenient way for me to do so; my office is rather utilitarian, just a desk and two chairs. I could put her on my desk, but it happens to be littered with the remains of our half-eaten lunches. Plus, the height just isn't right for my specialty. Cullenlingus.

"Can you still do a handstand?"

"What?" She asks, totally confused.

"I just want to try one thing. Do you trust me?"

"Yes?"

She's not convinced, so I ask again. "I mean it—do you trust me?"

"Well, um, I guess so," she hesitates, looking me in the eyes. What she sees there tells her that I'm not moving forward without her approval. "Yes."

"Good. Take off your shoes, then position yourself in a handstand."

She looks concerned, so I reassure her. "I'm going to do something wonderful, that won't hurt your back."

She carefully positions herself in a handstand in front of me. I bend my knees, grabbing her around the waist then straighten myself up so her arms are off the floor.

"Oh! Dr. Cullen!" She exclaims.

"Trust me, Angela. Trust me," I soothe. "Now your pussy is right where I need it. If you want to wrap your arms around me for support, you can, but I've got a good hold on you no matter what."

Her legs are spread in a center split position, so she's totally open. Her lips are small, but parted. Her wetness is pooled, just for me. She's beautiful. I will never cease to appreciate how every woman looks so different, but still so alluring.

I feel her hands fumble with my belt, then move to my cock. I try to tell her that she doesn't need to do that, this is about her, but she cuts me off. "I want you," she insists.

Who am I to argue with her? If she wants to bury my cock in her throat, I'm not going to stop her.

Before I taste her, I breathe her in. "Your smell, oh, your smell," I mumble. "It's so good."

She probably would have answered if she didn't have my cock in her mouth. Instead, she just moans around my erection and it feels so incredible. I haven't had head in ages, and I can't remember the time a woman was able to deep throat all I had to give her. Angela Weber is earning herself some gold stars today.

With her pussy right in front of my face, everything is perfect. I start out slow, warming her up, fucking her with my tongue. Since my hands are otherwise occupied, I'm all tongue. Well, tongue and teeth. I can tell by her rate of breathing and the fact that she released my cock that she's close, so I suck her clit into my mouth. Using as much suction as possible, I work her hard. When she comes, she lets out a garbled, groaning scream. It sounds like something from the call of the wild, I've never heard anything like it. Almost primal in nature. Once again, these quiet ones—they have a treasure trove of secrets to reveal when they finally let you in.

I let her breathing slow down before I tilt her back on her feet. When they first come into contact with the ground, her knees wobble a bit, so I keep my arms wrapped around her. When she pushes against me, I'm worried that she's falling, but then I realize she's just pushing me into my chair. My pants are around my knees, and my poor cock is as hard and swollen as ever.

"Do not move," she warns as she looks me straight in the eyes. She grabs her purse and rifles through it. She pulls out a condom, and I feel my eyebrows rise. This hot woman is just full of surprises. I fucking love it.

When she's back in front of me, I merely watch as she opens the condom and rolls it onto my erection. She clearly knows what she's doing. Still clad in her thigh highs, she slowly slides herself onto my dick until I'm buried inside of her. She places her arms on my knees and her tits are once again in my face. My mouth goes straight for one of her nipples, and I suck on it. Before she starts to move on me, she does something with her hips that drives me absolutely nuts. I release her nipple in order to look down, and she's fucking circling her hips around my cock. I have no idea how she's doing what she's doing, I only know that this isn't going to last long. Where in the world did she pick up this stuff? It's not that I really care, exactly, I just want to thank whoever it was that taught her, because damn, she is one hot girl.

She feels so good on me; I can't concentrate on anything except watching her move over my cock. Up and down, up and down, alternating the pace in such a way to drive me insane. Every now and then, she does that thing with her hips, and I swear to god, she's going to break my balls. She keeps trying to kiss me, but I just can't manage; every single one of my brain cells is focused on my cock. I really want to explain this to her, so she doesn't think that I don't like her kisses, but I can't talk. I can't think.

My cock… what she's doing to my cock.

So fucking… so fucking hard… feels so good.

I want…

I want more.

Is she screaming?

I explode.

When my breathing finally resumes to normal, I open my eyes again. I carefully peel the condom off of my spent dick and toss it in the garbage. Angela is searching around my office for all her bits of clothing, so I get an extended view of her bare ass as she bends over and reaches down periodically.

"What are you grinning about, Mr. Cheshire Cat?"

"Who, me?" I ask innocently.

She just gives me a look. She isn't buying my innocent routine.

"A man who fucks like that has no business playing innocent, Dr. Cullen."

"I might say the same thing about you, Ms. Weber."

"I think we might need to keep up these lunchtime research meetings; this was very… informative. "

I smile at her. "We might even need an all-day session in my own private library. At my house. Conveniently located just off the master bedroom."

She digs through her purse again, this time procuring a small business card. She writes a number on it. "This is my personal number. Feel free to call it any time you need help with research."

I watch her slide on her pumps, checking out her ass one final time. It's really a nice view, I decide.

"Goodbye, Dr. Cullen. I'll be in touch," she says with confidence as she leaves my office.

"Goodbye Ms. Weber. Thank you for your assistance with that sticky situation." I catch her face flush, and I love that I broke through her reserve enough to make that happen.

A slow smile spreads over my face as I think about making that happen again. Often. On a regular basis. My cock stiffens in approval.

END NOTE: The upside down 69 is just for xoxocullenluverxoxo, in honor of her birthday. She begged for sexual favors, and you all know I can't turn down a sexual favor. Better late than never, eh? Cullenlingus belongs to Ninapolitan, who always kindly allows me to use it when I need to.