Thank you to sadtomatoff and mylifeandhis for running this contest.

I wanted to make this a short story, but 100 words would never have cut it, so I aimed for 1,000. I hope you enjoy this very short piece.

PLEASE DO NOT engage in forms of BDSM or play that you aren't well-educated about, and especially do not engage in them with people you wouldn't trust with your life.

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Nobody does it better. And by "it," I mean fucking.

Carlisle had a sex drive I'd never experienced. He could fuck in missionary position and still make me come, a skill few men had. He could fuck doggy-style and rub my clit, never losing his pace. He could fuck me against a wall, in the shower, anywhere. Everywhere.

I thought about what he might want as I got ready for him. He'd sent me lingerie that afternoon by courier. I blushed and set the box aside when my assistant asked what it was, knowing the familiar color and shape and what it meant. It wasn't the first time I'd received scandalously small pieces of underwear for his pleasure, and I knew he took pleasure in sending them to me at work, where I had to hide them and then spend all afternoon thinking about how he'd fuck me.

Opening the box, I smiled at the note.

For my Bella. Love always, Carlisle.

I loved him with all my heart.

My shower was longer, hotter than usual. I shaved extra carefully, ensuring my legs, underarms, and pussy would be smooth, anticipating his mouth would be in each place.

I dried off then used his favorite lotion. When my hair was dry, I swept on the lightest of makeup, knowing he hated I when I wore too much. After I pinned my hair up in loose waves around my face, I dabbed on perfume. Just the scent from the bottle he'd given me two Christmases ago made me wet, ready, and eager, knowing how wild it drove him.

Slipping into the panties, I fingered the lace edge and made sure it sat just right against my skin. When I had the bra on, I did another quick once-over in the mirror before I grabbed my tallest black patent heels and slipped them on. The last thing I needed was his tie. I found the purple paisley that was my favorite hanging in the closet on his tie rack and wrapped it around my neck, the intricate knot slipping into place easily.

Since waiting was boring, I brought a book and lounged on the couch. I'd hear his car in the garage when he got home, so I flipped through a magazine, then grabbed my Nook and tried to distract myself. Of course, I ended up reading erotica, which only made me want him home more.

At the first sound of him, I set my reader down, crossed my legs, and sat up straight. I knew exactly how I looked, thanks to the photographs Carlisle had taken of me, and could imagine the way my breasts laid against my skin, the tie nestled carefully over the lace between them.

"Fuck," he said, dropping his briefcase just inside the living room.

"Welcome home, darling."

His clothes fell to the floor, piece by piece, as he walked toward me. When he was naked, I licked my lips and looked up at him for permission. His small nod encouraged me and I leaned forward to take him into my mouth. Carlisle held my cheeks, guiding my pace and the depth of his cock in my mouth as he fucked me. One of his hands slid down to tease my nipple, then to the tie, pulling. Demanding. Taking.

Just as I'd adjusted to the way he'd grabbed me, his other hand spread, his fingers moving to my nose. The panic swelled, but I tamped it down and breathed as best I could, reminding myself of the infinite love we shared. Carlisle loved me too much, and he loved my body too much to ever permanently hurt me.

Carlisle's hand pulled in the tiniest bit, and my oxygen lessened.

My movements slowed, but in reaction, Carlisle picked his pace up.

"Good girl," he whispered. "I'll let go in just a second."

Hearing him made my pussy throb. Knowing he was in control over something as basic of a function as breathing made me wetter. I wanted to ride his cock and scream as I came.

Since I couldn't take in a slow, steady breath to calm my nerves, I focused on the way his cock felt in my mouth. I focused on the heat from it, the slick feeling as it slid between my cheeks, and the way my tongue loved the ridges.

When he let go, on instinct, I gasped around him, inhaling as deeply as I could, knowing I might not be allowed a second breath.

My eyes flicked to his, questioning, pleading, begging.

His grin was perfectly evil as his fingers tightened again. I knew from our talks that he was counting the seconds, that he knew all of my limits and boundaries, but it still scared the shit out of me. And thrilled me.

When the first tear fell from my eyes, he let go of the tie and swiped it off my cheek, then stuck his thumb in his mouth, humming as if the salty expression of my panic and frustration was his sweetest dessert.

His fingers moved again, allowing me another sweet, burning breath, and I knew I'd be allowed more than one when we reached to twist my nipple.

Bracing my hands on his thighs, I opened my body to him. Just because he'd let go of the tie didn't mean I could slack off. Each of his hands pulled at a nipple and my eyes welled with tears again.

Without warning, he pulled back and out of my mouth.

"Grab the couch," he said, his eyes focused on the back cushion.

I did as he instructed, then felt the fabric of my panties ripped away from my body, followed quickly by his cock deep in my pussy. He paused, his arm wrapped around my hips, holding me so he could fuck me like he wanted, and came hard. Minutes passed as he softened, catching his breath.

"Time for bed," he said, kissing my cheek.

Nobody fucks like Carlisle.