I wrote this with the wonderful Chartwilightmom a few weeks back and I thought I would share this on my own site as well.

Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters are property of Stephenie Meyer. This story is in no way an attempt at copyright infringement. The email addresses, phone numbers and physical addresses are a product of the authors creative process. This story and all plot lines therein are the property of Elvirina and chartwilightmom.

Thank you to IamTheAlleyCat for beta'ing this, and to AnnaLund for pre-reading.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 12:05 p.m.

To: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

From: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

Subject: Blushes

Dear GreenEyedMusic,

Your words from your last email had me blushing. As if you didn't know that would be the effect when you wrote them...

If you could only see the soft pink that fills my skin and heats me from within... I wonder if your fingers grazed along my cheek, would you feel the heat? Would the temperature rise from the contact?

And now I'm blushing again.

Your words, your passion for music makes me happy; it gives me hope that one day we would meet, and your fingers would find that contact with my skin.

You want to know why?

Because everything you do, everything you say, you execute with conviction. That force flows through you, gives you the drive to succeed in everything you do, everything that you set your mind to.

Have you set your mind to finally come meet me? To see for yourself the blush that your words create?

I hope so.

Yours,

TaperJeanGirl.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 4:30 p.m.

To: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

From: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

Subject: Fruits of my labor

Dear sweet TaperJeanGirl,

As always, you know when to call a man out. I will admit I took a dare and wrote those words on purpose, hoping you would admit to that beautiful blush. I sit here imagining how it creeps down you cheeks only to slowly encroach your neck. It would be nothing short of spectacular to witness in real life, I am sure.

These fantasies, delicacies you reveal about yourself, I am sure you have purposefully designed to drive a man wild. And trust me when I say this, it is working.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't constantly think about what your skin would feel like under my hands. From your—what I am sure to be less than justifying—description of yourself, I know for a fact your body would fit my hand with perfection. Come to think if it, the temperature would rise between us, just as surely as Caleb Followill absolutely seduces the female crowd with the lyrics of Sex on Fire. They are no more immune to him than I am to you.

So when you ask if there would be heat, all I can say is yes. Even from a distance, I feel the burning, the smoldering warmth emanating from each one of your deceitfully innocent words. So when I close my eyes, I can almost smell the strawberry fragrance from your hair, feel the tangles from your bed hair between my fingers, and taste the unearthly softness of your skin. Does that convince you?

Now, if you'll excuse me, this is why God invented a cold shower. Once more, I have let my mind take me indecently far from where the subject originally started. Right now, I do not dare to close my eyes.

Stay safe, sweet girl

Yours,

GreenEyedMusic.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 5:45 p.m.

To: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

From: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

Subject: Conclusions

Dear GreenEyedMusic,

As much as I love Kings of Leon and have borne witness to the swoon that Caleb Followill has over the crowds of fans at their concerts, nothing compares to what your words do to me.

As you keep your eyes open, your words have burned into my mind before I let my eyes close and running them on an endless loop.

My eyes stay closed, and the words are wrapping around the image of me in my head, naked and bare for you. Each phrase surrounds me, moving along my form, finding its perfect place along the dips and swells of my body.

The blush has returned in full effect, searing each expression to my skin as though I were being inked.

I like the idea of you marking me.

I can feel the enjoyment from them, a tickle here, a caress there, but then, slowly, they all descend lower on my body.

I moan at the pleasure they provide me.

No silence for me, no cold shower. I want nothing to get in the way of what your words do to me.

My noises ring loud for you.

If I had known the effect that you would eventually have on me when I wrote that response, I would have written you sooner.

Yours,

TaperJeanGirl.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 6:55 p.m.

To: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

From: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

Subject: Arts of seduction

Dear enchanting TaperJeanGirl

Are you trying to kill me? Because that is exactly what you are doing. You just have me completely in your thrall. I am nothing now but a mess of emotions and fantasies of a woman that I have never even met. How do you even do that? Words, such few words, but with a promise of what you and I could be together, leave me with no air in my lungs.

You say you want me to mark you, but do you understand that you have already marked me? Every inch of me is pulsing, beckoning you, screaming at full force for you to come find me, release me from the purgatory of merely knowing you as a part of this beautiful and all consuming fantasy.

If I turn my head to my bedroom now, I can see you. Your glorious form spread on my bed, naked and bare for me as you say. Letting the seconds drag, I dare not blink in case I miss one single moment of time with you. You're simply too precious to so callously succumb to a reflex.

I close my eyes again. This time I revel in it because I know you want it, too. You are so trusting in my care that I can only act on what you want from me.

I want to take you to bed. I want to hear those soft and seductive moans you describe, see the faint marks on your skin where my mouth has been. I want to feel the burn of your blush beneath my lips. May I?

As a desperate man, my plea is only that you tell me what you want. Take us that next step. Sweet girl, show us how good we are together.

Yours,

GreenEyedMusic.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 8:20 p.m.

To: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

From: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

Subject: Replies

Dear GreenEyedMusic,

I will answer your plea. My desire to know what happens is as great as yours.

And only because I know that one day you will take these steps with me.

You will take the step to meet me, in person. You will extend your hand to meet mine. Your warm greeting will only be the start to the many blushes that will occur from being in your presence.

Your voice will be the only thing my ears hear, absorbing every word that falls from your kissable lips.

The tenor will vibrate through my body, sending pleasures even before your mouth meets mine.

We will find some quiet café or bar, enjoy each other's company, sitting closely together, looking more like a couple that has been together for years than a couple that has only just met.

I can picture it so easily right now...

As your hand holds mine, our fingers laced together and my body pulled close, you lead me back to your dwelling.

Only moments inside the door, your lips find mine in a fevered rush to taste and savor.

I lick my own lips right now in anticipation of how delicious you would taste.

In what looks like chaos, our clothes are shed upon your floor; they make a mosaic of colors and patterns, a path marked for us to create over and over again.

Naked and bared on your bed, my dark hair is feathered along your crisp white sheets. The rush of cold creeps along my body as my heated skin reaches the fabric.

You waste no time as you drink me in, touching and taking what is yours.

What has always been yours.

Yours,

TaperJeanGirl.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 9:05 p.m.

To: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

From: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

Subject: Release

Sweet TaperJeanGirl,

I am lost. Lost to you, in you. Sweet girl, you let me take you to bed. I am honored; I feel graced with your trust and faith in me. And now you leave me scared. Almost scared to be a man, terrified that I cannot give you what you need.

As I stare at you, your eyes burning, scorching mine, and my instincts connect with yours, binding and blinding us with need. Even from a distance, I realize I know you; I know your body. I know its wants and needs, dips and swells.

From afar, you are mine. Your wants, your breath, which is deepening as we merely stare at each other, are mine. I long for you just as much as I can see you yearn for me.

Going to the bed where you so patiently wait for me, it is a luxury to finally touch your skin, to drag my fingers around the contours of your sweet belly button, drawing invisible lines between small and perfectly round birthmarks littered sporadically on the way to your breasts. I watch enraptured as you suck the air into your lungs and hold it. I feel the tightening of the nipple, fantasizing how that would feel against my lips. Would the rosy skin grow even tighter when it is met with the cool air of my breath?

Looking into your eyes, it is clear what you need, what you want. Am I a man if I don't give you exactly what you need? How can I leave you in my bed without the release that your body craves? The truth is that I can't… And I won't.

Bending down, I kiss your mouth, just a gentle pressure, a token of my admiration for you. You are the most seductive and brave woman I have yet to encounter.

You squirm underneath me, your body urging me, educating me, telling me what it needs. All I want is to please, to please you and watch that blush spread from your cheeks… To your neck… To your chest… I ache to make it happen.

One thing happens, one sign is telling me that I am a man and that I am who you want. Your legs part slightly, inching apart slowly as I pull back and watch as you are completely exposed and bared to me.

Beautiful.

I am no longer scared to do what you body asks of me. I follow the same invisible path running between small perfect birthmarks, but I use my mouth this time. This is where I feel the warmth, that glorious heat you asked about in the beginning. This is where it is, so scolding and nerve teasingly enthralling that I give in—to you, to me, to the desire that fills this room.

Your moans fill the room, echoing off the walls like a lyric designed just for me.

Stunning.

Magnificent.

Thank you for taking me here, for bringing me to you, for allowing me to please you. I am forever in your debt.

Yours,

GreenEyedMusic.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 11:05 p.m.

To: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

From: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

Subject: Real life

Dear GreenEyedMusic,

You are the one who is magnificent. You have pleased me even without having met me. Your words delight me more than anything in this crazy world.

You say that you are in my debt, then pay it.

Meet me.

In the real world.

I want you.

I need you.

There is nothing left for me to do but beg, plead, and argue all the reasons why we need to meet.

Will you meet me? The words scare me to say, rejection is the worst fear of all.

Will you stand in front of me and capture my gaze as you have imprinted your words into my soul?

I beg you to touch me.

I want your lips on mine, to kiss me sweetly and tenderly, then with all our passion, leaving them swollen and needy.

I want your hands… Everywhere.

I want you naked. I want you in my mouth. I want you to beg for me.

Because I will beg for you.

I will beg for you to make true all the words that you have spoken, to give me the most important thing—you.

I want you filling me with your motions driving pleasure through my body. I want each and every touch of yours to send me into a place that only you can, a place where there is just the two of us, our bodies moving and aligning together as two pieces of a puzzle.

I can't wait anymore. Everything you say is true; I yearn for you.

My body sings for your touch. Only you know how to play me.

So do this.

Don't let any what ifs stop you. Don't let yourself fear I would not instantly fall into your arms. Because I would.

Just tell me I will meet you.

I bare more than my body now, I bare my soul.

The fall is great when the words are the gentle push over the edge.

I give you all of me now.

My real name is Bella Swan. You already know that I live in Seattle. My address is 5674 Willow Drive. My phone number is 206-555-6397.

I can't keep going like this. I need you. I need to feel you. I want to hear these words that you write—words that have touched me—coming from your mouth.

And I know you need me too.

Please. Don't make me wait.

Forever yours,

Bella.

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Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012, 11:55 p.m.

To: taperjeangirl at yahoo . com

From: greeneyedmusic at hotmail . com

Subject: Granting your wish

Dear sweet Bella.

What a beautiful name. I stand here and feel how it rolls off my tongue—effortlessly and as sweet as your words.

A small smile stretches across my lips. I will rise to your challenge. I have neither fear nor doubt that we are right for each other, in the flesh and in person. Your soul is bared to me just as I am vulnerable and exposed for you. You should not be begging; I am the one on my knees for you.

Your bravery knows no bounds, and I am proud of you. I take pride in the trust that you have shown me, both with your body and your life. I treasure you, adore you, and mostly, I will not fail you. Ever.

It won't be long until I gently sink my hands into your long hair and whisper words of seduction directly into your ear. I have known passion in my life, but never like this. Never even having touched your body, having been touched by your mind is the single most erotic experience of my life. Imagine when we finally come together; my lips finally meeting yours. I can't wait, I have no patience. I long, ache, and yearn to seduce you, hear you, feel you, taste you, fill you… Love you.

Chances are many in life, but destiny is a delicate rarity that cannot be passed on. I grasp your offer with an open heart and a soul bared just for you. Never anyone else but you, Bella. Now that fate has left it in our hands, we are the ones who can let our passion grow and love unfurl.

My name is Edward Cullen, and as I stand here, I am simply at your mercy. I am yours to take or cast aside; because, as I press send, the knock on your door would follow instantaneously.

Most sincerely and forever in love, Edward.

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To: 206-555-6397

From: 206-555-5298

My address is 5682 Willow Drive, Seattle. Take me, strip me, love me, seduce me, use me, because I am forever yours.

I press send and hear the muffled echo of an incoming text on the other side of the door.

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Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

You know where to find the review button if you want.