Disclaimer: I don't own The Twilight Series, or the characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Edward Cullen is disgusted with women, who use sex to get to up the corporate ladder. However, after finding himself in the same situation, can he feel something else for his brown-eyed assistant? All Human. Drabble-ish.
This story is entirely from Edward's POV
The softness of her lips was the first thing that made be press into them harder, the sweetness of the breath the second. A sigh of contentment escaped me as I allowed my hands to fall from her shoulders and easily sneak behind her, pressing against the middle of her back and pulling her closer to me.
A mewl — so quiet, I barely heard it — passed her lips. Her small, delicate fingers traced my body until she buried them in my hair and pressed my head closer to hers.
A growl escaped my lips as she hesitantly licked my lips, asking me to open them. As if I would…as if I could. The feeling of Isabella's lips on mine was something I wasn't sure I could live without from this moment on. Why had I deprived myself from the feeling of her luscious lips for the duration of all those years?
My tongue touched hers and a fierce, scorching, fierce and fervent tango. I couldn't get enough of her. Her proximity, although close, wasn't enough. I wanted to, I needed to, I had to be closer to her. I had to be inside her…kissing her, looking at her, studying her.
Shit. I wanted to...fuck her all missionary style. I didn't do that, not anymore.
I let the hand that wasn't pressing her to me sneak underneath the material of her robe. I caressed her body from her throat, down past the valley of her amazing breasts all the way down to the knot stopping me from going further down. Instead, I wrapped my finger around her waist and let my fingers roam as much of her skin as possible.
And it still wasn't enough.
I pushed her gently toward the closest wall I found and slammed my hand down next to her head, my lips never stopping the kiss. Bella moaned, breathed out and drove me crazy with each stroke of her tongue.
My dick was impossibly hard at this moment, seeking friction and needing the release, but I didn't push it into her. I didn't want her to think that was what I was seeking.
What was I seeking even I had no idea of, though.
I pressed my lips harder to hers when I needed to come out for breath. I didn't want to, I realized. I never wanted to stop.
I was beyond a point of doubt, completely and irrevocably fucked. Isabella Swan, my assistant, the girl I had used only for my pleasure — had somehow crawled her way up my heart and settled there.
I pressed my lids shut before opening them for the first time since I felt Isabella's mouth on mine. Her eyes were closed, but that didn't stop my gaze from roaming every single feature of her face. From so close, she was even more breathtaking. Her cheeks were flustered slightly and her lips were deliciously red and swollen. Her tongue seeped out and moisture her bottom lip, taking it in between her teeth. Unable to stop myself, I kissed her gently once, twice, thrice before pressing my forehead for just a second to hers.
Her eyes were still closed and I wasn't having that. I wanted to see them.
"Isabella," I whispered. I saw her face flinch at the name. I'd never seen her reaction to her full name before. "Bella," I tried a second later.
Her eyes opened so hesitantly one would say she was just waking up from sleep to the rays of the sun, caressing her face. Her lids were hooded as she looked at me from underneath her eyelashes.
My cock was ready to burst through my pants.
"Don't go," I begged. I was ready to fall down to my knees at this point.
The corners of her lips turned downward as she shook her head. "It's over, Edward. I'm going. I can't do this anymore." Her voice was so quiet, so small. Scared.
She was always scared. "Is it because of what had happened before you met me? Why aren't you telling me?"
Her eyes hardened and she straightened up. "Because," she said. "For once you don't get to do what you want. You don't get to know what I don't want to tell you. For once, you don't get to shove it down my throat!"
Isabella escaped from my arms and walked away from me. She straightened out her clothing and pushed the hairs framing her face behind her ears. Walking over to the door, she placed her hand on the knob, but left it there — reconsidering, over thinking, analyzing. Too soon, the door opened and she hid behind it, as she whispered the words that made my heart burn.
I stormed over to her, angry beyond all recognition. "I swear in my life, Isabella, this is not the end."
"We'll see about that." Were the last words she uttered to me, closing the door in my face.
I stood there, in the dimly lit hallway, staring at the wooden door separating me from the one woman I wanted I my life. The one woman I wanted to…be with. What "be with" entitled exactly I didn't know. I did, however, know that Isabella was without a point of doubt important to me.
As her cries echoed through the door, I pressed my back against it and slid down the wooden surface, allowing each sob to hurt me painfully.
Death on Stephenson Street, tonight! *woot, woot*