I do not own Twilight

All love is unrequited. All of it...

Running my hands along your calves, working your tender skin under my hands gives me as much pleasure as it does you. I love watching you squirm, watching you thrust your hips up urging my hands higher and to the space you need me most. I love when your eyebrows furrow and your lips press together in annoyance.

You want to reach out and touch me but you know the rules.

I take my time, kissing, nipping, and licking against your hard flesh to drive you crazy, because that's what you deserve. You've been a bad boy and now you are being punished. I can feel your big hands fist my hair finally, pulling my lips to your cock. But I pull against you, just like you knew I would, and stretch up to bite the flat pale nipple adorned on your chest. The tiny sensitive bud hardens almost instantly against the splay of my mouth.

"Suck it" You hiss as you jerk my head back, my teeth catching your skin effortlessly. I know what you are referring to, and it isn't your nipple. I can feel your excitement, your cock leaking, leaving a trail of wetness between the valley of my breasts, and I bite down harder on you skin, showing you how much I want you.

It's the pain that brings you alive, the pain that warrants us as soul mates, the pain that keeps us together.

Your hand tightens in my hair; while your other hand reaches down to squeeze my breast, making me gasp in surprise. Even though you're kneading it with an intense vigor, I like it. Just the way I always like your hands on me; touching me, stroking me and fucking me until I cum in your hand, shiver against your body or clench around your cock.

You've had enough, your knuckles whitening and your lip caught between your teeth telling me so. I manage only a squeal as you tighten your hands around my arms and your strength throws me against the red satin of your sheets.

I watch you smile that wicked smile you always give me, as you squeeze my knee caps, urging my legs apart. I try to detest, not having finished my own fun with your body, but that look on your face means you're serious.

"Wait-" I cry out, but your lips are already against the inside of my thigh, your fingers rubbing against the cotton fabric under my dress. I buck when I feel you pull the material aside to slip your thick fingers inside my already wet heat. It's hot, buzzing, and alive. Because that's the way you make me feel. The way we feel when we are together.

You're whispering against my skin but I can't hear. I can barely breathe. The weight of your shoulders are pressing my legs further apart and I can feel my thighs aching as they stretch open.

I whimper as you shove your tongue in my pussy, your fingers pressing through the wetness to slide against my clit in hard, leg shivering, circles.

I don't even notice I am pulling your hair until you hiss and use your teeth to bite down on my thigh, muttering words like 'fuck' and 'shit' against my skin. I can feel that tightening of my limbs, the need to pull away from you or trap your body so close we are almost vibrating together.

I arch my back and fist the white sheets beneath us. It was wrong to do this in your hotel room with your ex-wife's honeymoon suite down the hall but I can't help it. I need it, just as much as you do.

I wonder if they can hear as I cry out, sob from the pure pleasure of just your fingers or the inability to catch my breath. I wonder if they can hear your pants and belt fall to the floor, the sound of my dress ripping down the middle, the sound of - oh - you pushing yourself inside me.

Your lips are wet and I can taste myself on you. With your tongue dancing and flipping inside my mouth I can barely keep my already feeble grip on reality. You're the only man who can make me see stars but more importantly make it feel as those stars are all over my body. Bright lights and searing heat scorching everywhere you touch.

The way you can melt me from the inside out. The way you have the power to twist me. I wonder if they can hear the way I scream into your shoulder as you slam into me, rock me gently, and sway me slowly. Can they hear when I come undone again, quiver and clench against you? Can they hear you panting, hissing, slapping you cock inside me?

Snarling, you pull out and flip me so quickly all the wind leaves my lungs. You don't care now. My face is against the pillow, my fist holding tightly to it as I feel you hands grasp my hips up and shift my ass closer to you.

You're running the head of your cock along my pussy, readying yourself to slam into me. I growl and snarl, pushing myself back wanting you to hurry up and fuck me already. I hate when you tease! I hate when you're so close yet so desperately far away.

There are no words, because we don't use them, have no need for them. When it is just us that is simply what it is. Our words mean nothing when our bodies talk so candidly to each other, speak in only tongues they know, ancient motions only the Gods knew.

I always try not thinking about the after effect but my thoughts always seem to drift there before it's even done. When your finished I know you are going to kiss me on the cheek, throw you jeans and black boots back on and walk out the door. You won't look back or contact me until you need me again.

But you surprise me this time. Your body spent and your weight pinning me to the bed, you easily roll over and take me with you, pulling me into a position we have never shared.

You allow me to snuggle against the side of you body as you reach for your jeans and pull out your packet of cigarettes. They are partly destroyed from the frenzy of escaping back to the room, after you watched the only woman you've ever truly wanted a forever with, marry your best friend.

I want to ask you so many things; why you brought me to the wedding of your ex-wife whom your still in love with, why you want me to stay beside you after multiple times of wanting the opposite.

They way your lips wrap around the end of your cigarette questions my memory banks into believing if this is the only true time I have seen your face so relaxed and carefree since you told me of Gianna's engagement. Ever since I had seen more of you, your presence in my bed more frequent than not.

You had thought she would be your forever but in like everyone's lives you both changed as did your love. I don't blame you for loving her, the mother of your only son, but sometimes I feel the inadequacy of your shared interest which ties you both, still together.

"Thank you" You breathe out, your fingertips playing amongst my hair in a delicate manner. Looking up at you I am almost startled to see you already looking down at me, watching me with the same dark eyes you've always possessed.

I want to reply, but I have no idea what you're talking about. So instead I kiss your shoulder and tell you it's going to be alright, even though I don't know if anything is or ever will be.

You chuckle humorously as you press your lips to my temple and butt out your cigarette on the antique side table. Though I love your clean scent, the low raspy smells of smoke that linger have also become apart of who you are and I know that even through a crowded bar I could still find you by your scent alone.

I glance at my bag and discarded dress, wondering if now would be a good time to leave, but the way you hold me has me feeling safe and warm and just plain tired. I want to ask if you want me to stay in your room or if you want me to leave, but the way your fingers dig tightly into my hip like I was the last woman on earth, has me splayed against you and not wanting to go.

"Stay the night" You whisper, pulling the thoughts straight from my mind as you draft the thin hotel sheet over our bodies.

Doing the only thing I can, I nod and slip my leg over yours, connecting us just that little bit closer. I know that the morning will bring the old you back so I savor what I can now. The affection, the want, the need you have for me all rolling together in this hotel suite could be one in a life time.

And if it is only for tonight, I am happy.