Contest entry for the Dirty Talkin' Edward Contest

Title: Slide

Pairing: Edward/Alice, Edward/Bella

Rating: M

Summary: Where are your lines? Would you tip-toe or would you slide across them?

Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.


Slide

EPOV

"Fifty fucking shades," I grumble under my breath as a woman in a nauseating pink, Mom of the Year T-shirt strides down the aisle toward the Erotica section. Now, I've got absolutely no issue whatsoever with erotica; it's a legitimate literary art form. What I take issue with is poorly written crap, and crap or not, it's still flying off my fucking shelves.

I shake my head and immerse myself in the inventory spreadsheet begging for my attention, but it isn't long before the metallic clang of a bell cuts through my concentration. When I look up, long mahogany hair and even longer creamy white legs are walking toward the back of the shop. Her ass just barely has enough curve to warrant a second look—not exactly a ten-year-old-boy ass but pretty close.

I always hated that analogy: ass of a ten year old boy. Why is anyone scoping out the backsides of children? Moreover, why would anyone want a woman to possess that physical trait?

No, women are meant to have curves. When I bend a woman over, I want to see the plump slopes of a round, ripe ass. When I grip her hips to fuck her hard, I don't want to feel bone. I want my fingers to sink into hot flesh.

She walks up the four stairs to the second level, disappearing in the rows, and I go back to my inventory. It isn't long before Mom of the Year leaves with her purchase—and a healthy blush on her face. Twenty minutes later, tired of looking at the computer screen, I close the laptop and grab a stack of trade-ins that need to be shelved.

I tuck a few books away in the Young Adult section and then make my way to the second floor. As I round the Do-It-Yourself section, a soft moan sounds. My brows shoot up when I remember that I haven't seen Long Hair and Tiny Bum leave the store yet. Slowly, I creep up the aisle and around the corner, following the airy sounds.

Her back is to me, her head tipped back, right hand clutching the shelf, and well, it's rather obvious where that left hand of hers is. If I close my eyes and block out the traffic outside the store, I can hear the distinct sound of fingers fucking—pushing through the wet folds of a pussy, searching for that Oh my God ending. It's very identifiable sound, just like a car horn or the phone ringing.

I clear my throat and she squeaks, her hand quickly withdrawing from the plaid shorts just barely covering her. When she turns around, her face is pink, whether from embarrassment or excitement, I can't tell, but her flush causes a twitch, and suddenly I'm sporting a semi.

"What are you doing?" Standing there staring at a girl who, just seconds ago, had her hand down her pants and not saying anything boarders on pervy so I had to say something.

"Social experiment," she says with a shaky voice, running a hand through her hair.

Not the answer I was expecting. "In my Self-Help section?" I look around at the books and snort.

"Your Self-Help section?" she says, her eyes running up my body. Her eyes stop mid-circuit, perusing my cock then resume their travels. When those chocolate cake coloured eyes finally find my face, I swear to shit she moaned.

I see what ya did there. It's all right, sugar, eye fuck me all you need. Whatever takes you there, kitten.

I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and look her over. She can't be more than twenty-five. "Quill and Ink," I say, my finger waving above my head.

"You're the store owner?" She cocks her hip.

I nod and take a few steps toward her, reaching past her to place a book on the shelf behind her. Her stance falters and she gasps, as if bracing for something, until she realizes my intention and exhales. Standing this close, I can smell the sticky, thick sex on her, and her warm, shaky exhale fans across my arm. I quickly go from semi to full on hard.

Perfect.

"So what kind of social experiment has you masturbating in a bookstore in the middle of the morning?" I take a swift step back and pray she doesn't notice the bulge my traitor dick has created. I spare a second to remind him that hips and ass are essential, and this pretty young thing has very little in that department.

She looks me over again and a slow grin picks at the corners of her mouth, and right there I know I'm busted.

"Behavioural Sciences," she answers, leaning against the book shelf. "Everyone has a line, the things they won't do. Things they think are taboo or beyond them. I want to see what it takes to slide even a toe across that line."

Not gonna lie, I was intrigued…and still hard. Damn it.

"Step across your own line this morning or are public acts of deviancy the norm for you?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe to which? Tip toeing across the taboo or your exhibitionism?"

She pointedly eyeballs my crotch, bites her lip, and says, "Why didn't you call the police?" She steps around me, like a shark circling a seal. "Or at the very least kick me out of your store?"

I feel her right behind me, and I know she's waiting for me to answer, but I've got nothing. I should have escorted her perverted ass out the door the second I found her, but I didn't. Instead, I batted and played with her like a kitten with a toy, and I have no idea why. If it'd been a twenty-something year old guy rubbing one out in the stacks, I would have called the police, had him charged and banned from the store so fast his head would spin. But here I am, standing in Self-Help, conversing with the weird little Behavioural Sciences student.

"I don't have decent answer for that," I respond, feeling her come around the side of me.

"Where are your lines?" Her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip before it disappears into her mouth. "Obviously, public acts of a sexual nature aren't a hard limit for you."

Apparently not.

"If I slipped my hand back into my panties, would you stop me?"

I don't say a word. I stand stalk still and listen to my thundering heart sounding off like a fucking drum.

"If I took your hand in mine, and begged you to touch me…" Her eyes are big and brown and dilated.

I risk a quick glance at her chest, her nipples strain against the simple navy cotton shirt she wears. If she wasn't aroused before, she is now.

"What if I bent over…?" She continues to circle me, her hot breath washing over me as she movs. "Asked you to take me right here?"

My jaw flexes, and I feel my chest tighten at the very thought of shoving her face to the books and hearing her grunt as I pull her hips back and slam into her.

"Where's that line, hmm?" She stops in front of me again, and her hand reaches out, dragging down my stomach and stopping to cup my balls.

Brazen little thing.

I open my mouth to speak, but the bell above the door chimes and my jaw snaps shut. She holds her hand in place for a moment longer and then steps away. With her other hand, she slides a piece of paper into my hand and turns. She doesn't look back; she keeps her head up and calmly makes her way through the stacks.

"Fuck," I say, exhaling.

"Um…hello?" I hear and will my dick to just fucking stop as I make my way back to the front of the store.

I sign for the delivery and as soon as the dude in brown is out the door, I drop to my chair. I look down at the paper made soft by sweat and crumpled by my nervous hand. The name Isabella is written on it and an address just two streets over.

~(SLIDE)~

At eight that night, I turn off the store front light, bolt the door, and flip the "Come in, We're Open" sign over. I balance the till twice and then stuff the money into the late night deposit bag. After making a quick stop at the bank across the street, I wait for the traffic to slow before sprinting back the way I came and unlocking the door just five feet from Quill and Ink.

I've lived above the store for three years now. I used to commute a good forty-five minutes each day, and I rationalized it by convincing myself the cheap as fuck rent was saving me in the long run. The apartment was a hole in the wall, utilities extra, roaches included.

When this opened up, I practically broke into a touch-down dance right there on the street. The apartment is easily three times the size of the old shit hole. Red brick in every room, sandy coloured hard wood floors, and simple creamy accents run throughout the apartment.

I kick off my shoes and hang my keys around the neck of a vintage Coke bottle that sits on display just inside the kitchen. Pulling the Henley over my head, and chucking it to the floor by the couch, I flop down and pick up the remote. I land on the History channel and zone out as the narrator drones on about some ancient tomb.

My hand slides into my jean pocket and fishes out the change from lunch, dumping it out the coffee table in front of me. A much abused white piece of paper lands next to the coins. That fucking paper was the proverbial penny in my pocket today, burning a hole. I would take it out, study the delicate hand writing, trying to discern something, then shove it right back in. My hand found its way to my pocket way more than strictly necessary, and I found myself palming it, my fingers playing with the folded corners.

"What if I bent over…Asked you to take me right here?"

"Fuck," I groan and palm my dick. I close my eyes and picture the way she moved around me—like a cat stalking a mouse—and I swell a little more.

"…begged you to touch me."

Reaching down blindly, I grab my shirt and pull it back over my head. "Fuckin' skinny behavioural sciences…Fuck." I snatch the piece of paper off the table as I stomp toward the front door. I look down at the address one last time and shove it back into my pocket.

~(SLIDE)~

Apartment 616. I stand and stare at the door for a moment before knocking hastily, half of me hoping she's not home.

But of course not.

I hear a chain slide across a plate, then the click of a bolt giving way, and the door opens. She's standing there, one hand on the frame the other on the door, wearing chocolate brown, lacy boy shorts and a cream coloured tank top. The cream melts into her skin, nearly giving the illusion that she's standing in nothing but underwear.

God damn skinny, panty wearing, behavioural sciences, I grumble internally, hating that her long, lean legs are making my mouth water.

She doesn't say anything, but the look on her face tells me that she fully expected to see me here at her door.

"You wanna know where my lines are?" I reach for her wrist and pull her out into the hallway, pinning her against the wall.

Shock passes over her features, but she quickly schools it.

Sliding my hands over her ribs and down to her hips, I lean in, my lips touching the delicate shell of her ear. My fingers dig into to her and she works to stifle a moan. "Beg me," I whisper.

Her eyes go wide and dilate. Her pelvis pushes forward, but I'm certain she isn't even aware of the movement. She bites her lip. "Touch me."

My rough hands grip her waist, fingering the delicate lace panties. Her hips roll again just as my hand pushes between her legs, forcing them open. I can feel the heat pouring from her, and I'm sure that tight little cunt of hers is throbbing. She lets out an airy sound and her eyes close, and I know I'm right. The lace becomes damp as I rub and push my palm against her.

"I would have sunk my fingers deep inside you and fucked you until you were a panting, wild mess had you asked me." I know it was true enough. Standing among the stacks of books, I would have given her what she wanted, if she would have just said it outright. What ifs are great daydream and spank material, but like most men, direct and to the point is what works best. Tell me you want me to finger you until come. Tell me you want my cock in your mouth.

"Yes," she hisses. Her hands grip my forearms and her body moves like water, rippling in waves.

I tug on the lace, forcing it up between her slick pussy lips, and she gasps. I let my fingers pass over her swollen, excited lips and she sighs as if my fingers were the cool comfort to her burn. Before her body relaxes, I pull the panties to the side and plunge one finger inside, absolutely fucking delighted by the raspy moan it pulls from her.

"You can do better than that." I drag my teeth over her neck and bite. "Let them hear you, Isabella. Show them your line." I suck on her neck, leaving a hot red mark as my finger fucks her slowly.

She wants more, I can feel it in her body, the way it bucks forward to meet my hand, the way she squeezes my arms, her nails digging in. I push a second finger in and increase the pace; that slow easy fuck turning into something more frenzied. She grunts when I shove my palm against her.

Her thighs begin to shake, and I know she's close to coming. I kiss her mouth, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth.

"My lines are a lot more blurry than you think, kitten." I pull back to watch her face as she explodes.

"Jesus fuck," she all but screams in a shaky voice. Her nails dig in a little more, and I'm sure she's drawn blood.

She quakes as I slide my hand away from her. I lick the tips my fingers. She tastes like fucking taffy, sweet with just a hint of salt. Her eyes are hooded, her cheeks flushed and sweaty, and tiny tendrils of hair cling to her forehead.

"Taste," I order, slowly gliding my slick finger into her mouth. Her tongue wraps around it and my hand moves to my throbbing cock. "Six o'clock tomorrow."

She nods once, her lips still cupped around my finger. I remove my finger, turn, and walk down the hall toward the elevator.

~(SLIDE)~

It's six o'clock on the dot when a tiny brunette crosses the store's threshold and the bell chimes above her. She looks amused and curious when she spots the small black haired women perched on the countertop next to me.

"Isabella, meet Alice. Alice, this is the social pervert I was telling you about."

"Kinda skinny," she says with a shrug. "Edward likes his girls like he likes his meat, thick."

Alice is fucking stunning, short and curvy in all the places that count. A voluminous chest spills out of the tight black scoop neck she's wearing. Smooth, firm, sculpted legs wrap around my waist fucking perfectly. And her hips…her fucking hips kill me. Soft, and flared; she has the perfect hour glass figure.

I move around the counter toward Isabella. It's my turn to stalk. I walk around her—I'm inches from her—and sweep her long hair off her should. She shivers and I smile wickedly.

"She's beautiful, isn't she," I say, looking at Alice while running my hands up her waist and over her rib cage, stopping just beneath her breasts. I pull her against me, her ass immediately grinding, seeking.

When Isabella hears the lock on the door engage, her breath hitches. Alice smiles coyly, watching my every move. Placing my hand on the centre of her back, I urge her forward until she stands within feet of the petite woman on the countertop. I move between them, my hand resting on Alice's knee.

"Lines can be solid, like walls." My hand slowly rakes down Alice's thigh, my nails sketching lines on the fabric of her legging. Isabella's eyes zero in on my hands as they move closer to the juicy, warm core between her thighs. "Lines can be moved, replaced, divided." I turn away from Isabella, my hands grazing over Alice's hips, halting at the waist of her red leggings. "They can curve and zig-zag. They can disappear altogether."

Alice lifts her beautiful ass off the counter, and I slide the leggings down, letting them crumple to the floor. She spreads her legs a little wider, and a look of devilish amusement licks at the corners of her mouth.

"Will you watch me devour her?" I ask, not bothering to look in Isabella's direction.

A quiet "Yes" whispers behind me.

I kiss Alice, pulling at her lip the way she likes then place my palm at the centre of her chest, prompting her to lay back on the counter. Once her back is nearly flush with the smooth, dark wooden top, I fold my body over hers, kissing and licking the soft skin on her throat. She hums her approval, her capable little hands gliding through my hair.

The black scoop neck top Alice is wearing is tightly fitted and zips down the front. As I lower the zipper, exposing more of her flesh, I realize I can't see Isabella's reactions. I want to see her face as my tongue pushes between plump, pink lips. I want to watch her squirm and flush as Alice loses control. I peel away the top, gently kiss each of Alice's satin covered tits, and turn to the Behavioural Sciences student.

As I move toward her, I see her breathing pick up. Her chest heaves as I grab her hand and show her to the chair on the other side of the counter.

Alice gives her a cute little wave, closes her eyes, and then reaches for her ample breasts.

I slap her hand away. "No touching," I chide her. Her hands fall to her side and she bites her lip.

My eyes find Isabella's as she lowers herself into the chair behind her. Her eyes are fixed on my face. I lower myself until I'm eye level with her, my hands resting on her knees. "Boundaries, I found, are rarely strictly enforced. Given the right circumstances all lines blur."

As I move back around the sales counter, I let my fingers graze the flesh laid out before me. My fingertip dips into Alice's belly button and she smiles, but when my digits run lower, her smile fades and her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

I stand before her, nestled between her thighs, my hands lightly dragging up and down her legs. "Have you ever let anyone eat you while someone watched, Isabella?" We were all aware that anyone walking by the store could potentially see Alice in all her spread glory. Stacks and shelves would obscure much of the view, but at the right angle…

"No."

"Have you ever watched?"

Her head dips slightly and she answers, "Yes."

A smirk takes over my face when I lean down, my eyes still on Isabella, and take Alice's bra clad nipple in my mouth, biting down just hard enough to make her whimper. I pull the cups down, exposing the dark pink peaks and let my tongue tease and taste. One hand works the left breast, while my mouth assaults the other, sucking and nibbling until marks appear.

"Fuck. Enough!" Alice half shouts, shoving my face down her body.

I lock eyes again with the girl in the chair as my mouth hovers over Alice's swollen, beautiful cunt. Alice pulls my hair, urging me to get on with it. She's never been very patient. My tongue snakes out, and I flatten it, listening to the mewling sound pouring from Alice as my mouth fucks her. My teeth scrape at her soft, wet flesh and my nose rubs against her swelling clit. I close my eyes, savouring the smell and the taste all around me.

When you're young and stupid and inexperienced you tend to talk ridiculous shit about sex, about the pussy in particular. You toss jokes around like you've got a sweet fucking clue, but until you've got your head buried between the legs a woman, you've got no idea what it smells like, what it tastes like, how it feels. That a thick, heady, tangy smell can make your mouth water, and that molasses and salt mingle so well your tongue aches to be coated in it. You don't yet know that slick, warm, spongy flesh of a pussy is one of the most beautiful things you'll ever lay eyes on. You have no idea that Heaven is nestled inside a wet cunt.

When the hand on the back of my neck begins to grip tight, and she begins to ride my face, I pull away and stand over her, my fingers tickle her sensitive, sticky flesh and she pants like a wanton whore. I fucking love that sound.

Staring into Isabella's chocolate brown eyes, I lick my lips and push two fingers inside.

"Christ!" Alice's voice is harsh and shaky. She's not much for talking, but she's big on screaming, and I know she's close to hitting that high note.

"Watch her, Isabella. She's comes so fucking beautifully." I rock my hips forward, pushing my fingers in deeper and let out a moan of my own when her heat seeps through my jeans.

Twisting slightly, I add a third finger and begin to stroke that tiny balloon building with pressure inside her. Her legs lace around me, ankles digging into my ass.

"Fuck me, Edward!" she says, slamming her hand on the wooden countertop.

I know Alice, she wants it hard, and she wants it to hurt a little. She enjoys the burn that comes from being fucked properly.

"Feeling greedy, Alice?" I ask, watching the flush on Isabella's face burn a little brighter with each thrust of my hand.

Alice doesn't speak; she simply nods her head, giving me permission. Without warning, I slide a fourth in and pick up the pace. Her stomach muscles quiver and tighten, and my eyes fix on my little student. I wonder if she's ever seen a woman ejaculate? I smile, knowing that in a matter of seconds Alice is going to lose control.

She begins to squirm in that telltale way she does just before her muscles push and force me out. Isabella is watching me, her lips red, her face and neck a bright, excited shade of pink, and I have the distinct feeling that the simplest of touches would have her riding out an orgasm of her own.

"Watch," I demand, looking pointedly at the writhing girl. Isabella's eyes drop. I take a half step back, watching my hand move.

Alice exhales loudly and grabs my wrist, pulling me free. She screams, her tummy contracts, and then she begins to squirt, her body shaking from the force of her orgasm. I chuckle, amused by the way her frame shakes and, if I'm being honest, I'm feeling a little fucking smug. Getting a woman off like that is goddamn skill.

Sitting up, looking dazed and perfectly sated, she says, "You're a fucking mess, Edward." She pinches my shirt away from my body, and I look down at the wet and stickiness clinging to my stomach and groin. I shrug and help her off the countertop.

Without a word, Alice goes to the back of the store and cleans herself up, leaving me with the studious young brunette.

"There's a towel behind the counter…would you mind?"

Isabella hands me the towel, reaching across the counter, and when her soft fingers brush my hand, her teeth dig into the supple flesh of her lip. I wipe my hands and the counter.

"She's stunning, isn't she?" I cock my head in the direction Alice toddled off to.

"She is. Have you been together long?"

"Alice and I aren't together. We just like to fuck sometimes. Alice has a Jasper. And subtlety is not your strong suite." I smile at her coy way of asking about my relationship status. "How old are you, Isabella?"

"Twenty-three," she answers and then shifts gears. "Jasper doesn't mind that you fuck his Alice—sometimes."

"Jasper is generous. He likes to share. He's very equal opportunity lovin'."

"Equal opportunity, as in the boy swings both ways, or…?" She looks very intrigued, and I can practically see the thoughts forming in her pretty little head.

"Jasper is Jasper, Alice is Alice, and they swing whichever way the fucking wind blows them. Me, I prefer women, though I've had my fare share of adventures with Jasper. Of course if you ever saw Jasper you might be inclined to go on an adventure of your own." Her face flushes all over again with my confession, and I swear it's the sweetest blush I've ever seen. I lean forward and drop my voice. "How close were you to coming watching that little scene?" I tap my finger on the still warm surface of the sales counter.

She inhales deeply and steps closer to the counter. "It would have taken very little," she confesses, looking me straight in the eye.

"Did it make you nervous…the possibility of being caught?" I was referencing the night before, but I'm sure she picked up on that.

"No…" she shakes her head "…it turned me on."

"And what about tonight turned you on? You're gorgeous when you're aroused, by the way." A very truthful statement.

She blushes a little and leans her hip into the counter. "Her body, the sounds, the look on your face, the way you worked her, like a fucking instrument you'd been playing for years."

I smile. I have been playing Alice for years. When you find a creature like her, you don't give her up. And I found Alice a little more than nine years ago at the University of Washington at an End of The World party.

"It was rather intense," Alice says, sauntering toward us. She walks right up to Isabella, takes the girl's chin in her hand and presses her mouth to Isabella's.

I expected a shocked gasp or something of the sort, but no. Isabella opens her mouth to Alice, her body arching toward her ever so slightly. Their pink tongues mingle and play together and my already throbbing cock begins to leak.

Soft moans and sighs pour from each of the girls, and all I can do is thank God for allowing me the opportunity to witness this. Fucking hottest thing I've seen in awhile.

Alice steps back and sweeps her thumb over her swollen bottom lip. Turning to me, she pats my arm and leans in, standing on her tippy toes. "Hope she fucks like she kisses." She spares Isabella one last glance as she leaves the store.

"Quite the compliment," I say to a flushed Isabella.

She shrugs and drums her fingers on the sales counter. "She's yummy. Tastes like coffee and mint."

"Double agent?" I'm curious about the curious little brunette.

"No, but for Alice, I'd make an exception." She's not being cheeky or flirtatious; she's being honest, and there isn't much I wouldn't give up to see them fuck.

Interesting. Could I be that lucky to have found not one, but two amazing women in this lifetime? Women that wouldn't judge my proclivities, but celebrate them?

"Come with me, Isabella."

"Bella," she says, looking down at my outstretched hand. "And that depends on what you plan on doing with me."

The corner of my mouth hitches up in a crooked smile and I answer, "Fuck you six ways from Sunday, of course."

~(SLIDE)~

After giving her the ten cent tour of my apartment, I lead her to the picture window that overlooks the Seattle skyline.

"Why did you choose this?" I ask, running my finger up her spine. "Surely, you could have chosen any number of topics, but you decided to dive head long into the world of sexuality."

"Alice Walker," she says, gazing out on the half lit city, her back to me.

"Pardon?"

"'Sexuality is one of the ways that we become enlightened, actually, because it leads us to self-knowledge.' I'm simply seeking a little enlightenment." The quote rolls off her tongue as easily as her own name.

"Trying to trace your own lines and boundaries?"

She nods, her finger tracing the skyline.

"And what have you found so far?" My finger caresses the back of her neck.

"They're pretty flexible."

I take a step back, draw my hand back, and let it land hard on her firm, perky ass; the curve of which reminds me of a tear drop, just a little heavy on the bottom. She squeaks, but doesn't protest. Her hands flatten against the window. I coil my hand around her mahogany hair and pull back so my face is looming over hers. "Still feeling flexible, Bella?" I whisper.

Pushing her ass out, begging to be smacked again, she purrs and nods.

"Spread your legs, kitten." I nudge my knee between them and apply a little pressure. She responds as if on auto-pilot, grinding on my thigh. Letting my hands slowly roam down her body, I give her ass a rough squeeze before dropping to the floor.

She hears me, looks back, and begins to turn around and face me.

"Stop," I say, catching her eyes.

She smiles and bites that fucking bottom lip again.

I grab the waist of the grey yoga pants she's wearing and pull them down in one swift move. She's not wearing any underwear and the red, five fingered welt I've inflicted on her is just beginning to appear on her left ass cheek. Unable to help myself I palm that tear drop shaped ass, hoisting it, and bite the sore looking hand print.

She cries out, but makes no move to step away from me.

"Have you ever been spanked, Bella?" Her name drips off my tongue like melted butter.

Her dark locks wag from side to side.

"Did you like it?" I lightly run my fingertips over the swell of her ass, soothing the sting.

"Yes," she answers in a rasp barely above a whisper.

A sly smile stretches across my face as my hands glide down the expanse of her long, silky legs. "Step out," I order, tugging her pants away from her feet. She obliges quickly.

My hands slip between her thighs, teasing her clit. "So slick. Poor, kitty." As one finger slides inside, the other hand comes down on her right cheek.

"Oh fuck," she groans, pushing down onto my hand.

"You wanna play, sweetheart?" I thrust a second finger inside her, and I can already feel the telltale signs of impending orgasm. Her insides begin to flutter and clench, but she takes a deep breath and settles herself. Impressive.

She blows out a puff of air and speaks through clenched teeth. "I want you to make me come. I think I deserve that much after watching you work Alice the way you did." She stops only for a mere moment to cry out when I pinch her sensitive clit. "Then I want you to fuck me." Her hips roll and her legs shake. She's walking a fine line.

I withdraw my fingers and she makes a cute but frustrated sound. I chuckle because I have a feeling she's going to like this game. "Beg," I say, licking the wetness off my fingers.

"What?" She sounds annoyed and my grin grows.

"You want to come? Beg for it, kitten."

"Please," she whines, pushing her tiny round ass out.

I stand up and press my back to hers. "What do you want me to do? Tell me," I say, nibbling on her ear.

"I want your mouth on me."

"Where?" I whisper, and her body shivers. The tip of my tongue traces the shell of her ear. "Here?" I cup her breast and she shakes her head. "Tell me then."

"You shouldn't toy with me, Edward." She pushes back and runs her hips in a slow circle; the friction is fucking divine.

"Then say it." I pinch her nipple through her shirt and delight at the sound that pours from her.

"I want your mouth on my pussy."

"Gladly." I turn her around and look down into chocolate syrup coloured eyes. "Keep those beautiful eyes on me. I want you see what I do to you." Slowly, I lower myself, my hands meander over her body as I go. Her head lolls back, arching her neck and back just the slightest bit. "Eyes down here, Bella."

As soon as her eyes meet mine, I press my tongue against her damp curls. Taffy sweet stickiness coats my tongue, and I feel like I'll never get enough. My mouth works to bring her to the right to the edge. She moans and pants, tugging my hair. I look up and her eyes are locked on me, devouring the scene before her. I keep my eyes on her as my tongue laps at her delicious cunt. With a nibble to her clit, I shove her into the abyss.

"My fucking…God!" Bella shouts, slapping the glass behind her. Her body shakes violently, knees threatening to give way.

Rising to stand in front of her, I hold her hips and ever so gently sweep the pad of my thumb over her excited clit. She shivers and her hands clamp down on my forearms. A small, but powerful, aftershock rocks her tiny frame. I watch as she reins herself in, pulling in deep breaths and exhaling slowly.

Finally, she speaks, "Your mouth is amazing. Thank you." She chuckles and opens her eyes.

"It was entirely my pleasure." I back away from her, taking her hand in mine and leading her to the sofa. "You're wildly responsive, a light lick and you're shaking."

"Having someone go down on me is still kind of a novelty to me. Ex hated it. Thought maybe it was me, but it turns out he just hated pussy."

"That's...unfortunate. You taste like candy."

Her eyes lower and a sheepish grin plays on her lips. I take her chin in my hand, just like Alice had, and force her to look at me.

"Salt water taffy. When I licked the cum off my fingers last night, that's what I thought, taffy. I'd gladly die buried between your thighs."

Her lips press together in a fine line. She stands up, strips off her top, and makes her way to my bedroom. For one dazed moment, I sit, not moving, and then I hear what I can only presume is her bra hitting the hardwood floor. When I reach my room, Bella is standing in the centre, looking for all the fucking world like some sort of demigod. Her tits are well shaped and perky. Her rosy nipples are standing proud and begging for me to suck the shit out of them.

"I told you I wanted you to fuck me," she reminds me.

I'm not going to make her beg, not this time. I want inside her, to feel the way her walls tremble and clench around my cock. In three quick strides, I'm digging a condom out of my dresser drawer. I tuck it into the palm of my hand and move to stand in front of her.

"Take them off," I say, pointedly looking down at my jeans—jeans that still wear the marks of Alice on them.

With ease and confidence, she opens my fly and pushes down my jeans.

"Step out," she says, repeating my own words.

I kick the jeans to the side and look down at the slight brunette. Curvy she isn't, but she is a fucking goddess to be sure. "Put it on." I hand her the condom. She eyes my cock with something that looks like greed and rips into the foil packet. With care and a teasing wink, she sheaths me. I pull her to her feet and kiss her perfect, pink lips.

Fucks like she kisses…God I hope so.

I back her up until her legs meet the mattress. She lowers herself with ease. She slides to the middle of the bed and lets her legs drop to the side.

"Fucking hell," I say, pulling my shirt over my head.

She gasps when she sees the tattoos that cover my upper body—a virtual map of my life.

"You're all colour and chaos." She chews on her lip, and I'm tempted to feed her my dick. Her mouth is killing me. From the moans and shaky sighs in the Self Help section to the way her mouth wraps around every word to those goddamned pink, bitten lips.

I crawl on the bed and hover over her. Lowering my face to her neck, I whisper, "Trust me."

She nods once, and I slip the head of my cock between swollen, ready lips, feeding it to her slowly. She moans and bows toward me. "Breathe," I prompt her.

As she exhales, I thrust forward, clasping her wrists and drawing them over her head. The sound she makes is close to animalistic, and it spurs me on. Our eyes are locked on each other as I move over her.

"Amazing," I mumble, feeling her tightness. I lean in and kiss her, letting our tongues taste and teeth clash. "Roll over, Isabella."

Her eyes go wide for a moment and then without a word, she makes the adjustment. Kneeling behind her, I grip her hips and pull them up. The handprints are still, if only a barely, visible. I reach between her legs, wetting my fingers with her sweet honey.

When she feels the tip of my finger push gently at her backdoor, she tenses and looks over her shoulder. The look on her face tells me not only that she's never done this before, but that she's scared. I press a little more and lean over her.

"Slide over that line, Isabella."


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Public voting: August 13 2013 to 27 August 2013.