Hey guys! So here is my first shot at a one-shot, and an idea I've had for awhile now. I thought about making it into a whole story, but for now I think I like it like this.
Definitely NFSW.
Enjoy, you dirty mf'ers. :)
"Bella."
His voice floated over the whirring sound of the electric mixer, and I could hear his leather shoes tapping monotonously as he walked into the dark and nearly-empty kitchen.
"Why are you in here in the dark?" He cleared his throat, hesitating. "Why are you even still here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I whispered, pulling the metal bowl out from under the whisks, dipping my finger in and bringing it back up to my mouth to taste the cream cheese frosting.
I had been spending as much time as possible at the restaurant lately, wanting anything more than to be alone in my small apartment in the middle of such a crowded city. It had been almost six months since I had moved to New York City from a small town by the name of Forks, Washington, yet I was just as lonely as my first week here.
People back home had laughed when I told them I was going to be a pastry chef. I didn't think I could handle hearing another joke about being from Forks and making food for a living. No one understood how much of an escape it was for me, though. I was never happy at home. I barely had a relationship with either of my parents, and I couldn't remember the last time I had any semblance of a best friend.
It's not that I tried to be anti-social. I just never fit in, and to this day, still feel as though I have the right to blame this on my mother. She was irresponsible-- never meant to be a mother-- and I ended up raising myself, even with Charlie's ceaseless attempts at trying to be a father. So I grew up much faster than the rest of my generation, and was made out to be some sort of freak.
I preferred to spend my Friday nights with a novel or bent over the stove, rather than going to the mall or movies with the rest of my peers. Cooking and baking quickly became my escape-- while I wasn't good at being a normal teenager, I was damn good at whipping up a batch of cupcakes, and people appreciated me for that. Or, at least they acted like it.
So here I was now, the head pastry chef at an upscale restaurant in the heart of Manhattan, whisking my life away and letting all of my troubles be cooked out in the oven, along with the bourbon I added to the cake batter.
And unfortunately for me, I was no longer alone.
"Hello, earth to Bella Swan," Edward sang, peeking over my shoulder into the mixing bowl.
"What do you want, Edward?" I had tried ignoring him in the past, but my patience was wearing thin. He was interrupting my calm, invading my space. Increasing my pulse.
"Nothing at all, I just wanted to know why you're still here. It's almost two in the morning; I'm pretty sure we closed hours ago."
Edward was the head chef here, and never failed to remind me of this fact. This restaurant was his life, his baby. He had opened it with his two best friends Emmett and Jasper-- my bosses-- a few years ago, and it had immediately become a major Manhattan hotspot for some of the best gourmet American food around. Recently they had decided to have a larger dessert menu, and that's where I came in.
Basically, I answered to Edward. Which I hated more than anything in the world, because to put it nicely, he was a pompous ass. It didn't help that he was easily one of the most gorgeous men I had ever laid my eyes on-- his bright emerald eyes went on endlessly, and I couldn't help but to want to run my fingers through his mussed-up bronze hair. He absolutely oozed sex, and the worst part was, he knew just how attractive he was.
Women flocked to him like he was the second coming of Christ or some shit, and he ate it all up. He was the epitome of a womanizing bachelor, and I had to deal with him.
Every single day.
I had spent more time with him in the past six months than anyone else in my entire life, and it was wearing me thin.
I had tried so hard not to be attracted to the adonis of a man who worked by my side every day, but if I was being honest with myself, I was failing miserably.
He was gorgeous, and smart, and had the best sense of humor. Our endless witty bantering back and forth throughout the day was one of the few things I looked forward to when coming to work. And to top it all of, he was, obviously, an amazing chef. I think he won me over at approximately the exact second I tasted his food for the first time.
Everything he cooked was just absolute heaven, and I hated, yet loved, him for it.
He was quickly becoming what I loved most about this job, and that made me angry. I had come here to escape my life, to throw my entire self into my baking. I someday wanted to open my own bakery, where I could call the shots and make anything and everything I wanted.
But until then, I had to deal with Edward Cullen and his beautiful pompous ass.
"Mmmm, cream cheese frosting, my favorite," he moaned, breaking me out of my embarrassing haze as he tasted my latest concoction. Unfortunately, his moan took my mind to places it shouldn't go, and my face turned beet red.
I turned away quickly, cracking open the oven door to check on the cake, sucking in deep breaths to calm myself.
I had been doing such a good job of hiding my attraction to him, and how much I had wished for a repeat of three weeks ago, but now that we were alone, I wasn't sure how strong my willpower was.
"So why are you still here?" I asked, turning to face Edward once I was positive my face was back to its normal pale coloring.
"I just wanted to finalize the menu for next week before going home-- I have a lot of orders to make tomorrow morning."
His voice sounded strained, and looking more closely at his face, he didn't appear too at-ease, either.
"Hey, is everything okay?" I prompted, seriously curious as to what was wrong. Even with all of our useless banter, we had grown fairly close over the past few months, occasionally confiding in each other when the stress of this job, and this life, got to be too much.
Edward shrugged, licking more frosting off his long, slender finger.
Ugh, I thought to myself, Get a grip, Bella.
"Seriously, what's going on?" I urged.
"I'm just stressed, is all," he whispered.
"More so than usual?"
"Good point," he chuckled, lifting himself up to sit on the counter. "You know, I used to think of this place as the answer to all my questions, all my problems. I could come here, and cook for hours on end, and just not think about anything. This job used to be my therapy, I guess you could say. I used it to take out all my aggression, my confusion, depression. But lately it just hasn't been giving that same effect."
He paused, looking at me and shrugging one shoulder. "I guess you could say I'm getting worn out."
"Maybe you just need a vacation," I suggested. "Think about it, Edward. When was the last time you took a break?"
He mumbled something incoherently, looking down at the linoleum floor.
"What was that?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"I haven't taken a break since before we opened the restaurant," he sighed, shaking his head.
"Yikes." I couldn't imagine going so long without at least taking a week to myself, let alone four years.
"Yeah," he agreed, "I don't really want to think about it."
"Alright, so what do you wanna think about?" I questioned, slightly bored yet intrigued with where this conversation was going.
Just then the timer beeped for the cake, and I pulled it out of the oven and onto the industrial counter to cool off.
"Smells great," Edward mumbled, sliding off the counter to stand in front of me.
Too close in front of me.
"Thanks," I breathed, my pulse racing at his close proximity. I could see the small beginnings of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the tiny freckle underneath his bottom lip. Oh, how I wanted to touch that freckle with my mouth.
"Bella," he whispered, his deliciously sweet breath blowing across my face. He smelled like sugar and vanilla, with the faintest hint of tobacco. "Breathe."
I let out a slow, measured breath, closing my eyes momentarily. This had to be a dream. A one-time thing, I could understand. We had been stressed, and speaking for myself, extremely sexually frustrated. But now? I just couldn't wrap my mind around Edward Cullen wanting me, especially more than once.
"Are you going to open your eyes eventually, or would you rather fall asleep standing?" He joked, and I felt the pad of his thumb brush across my eyelid.
"What are we doing?" I whispered, not trusting the sound of my own voice.
"Well, I believe that one is up to you, Miss Swan." Edward's voice was like liquid gold. Or melted chocolate. Or both.
I opened my eyes slowly, trying to measure the look on his face. I knew I wanted him-- hell, I always wanted him. I just had a hard time believing that Edward could still want anything from me. I had seen him with other women-- he was a total player.
Yet something about the way he looked at me stopped me from writing him off completely. That, and the way I felt totally alive when I was near him. I hated him for it, yet wanted him especially because of it.
His finger found its way to my bottom lip, brushing back and forth across it as his bright green eyes seemed to burn into my dull brown ones.
"What do you want from me?" I breathed, trying to control my overwhelming emotions. There was no way that this meant anything to him, especially not the way it meant everything to me.
"Everything," he whispered back, his eyebrows pulling together in what appeared to be nervousness.
"Everything, being..." I trailed off, not wanting to jump to conclusions, but definitely wanting to jump his bones.
"All of it. All of you." Edward paused, wringing his free hand through his messy hair. His other hand was still cupping my cheek.
"What are you talking about?" I just couldn't believe it. I needed him to confirm what I thought he was saying before I completely freaked out.
"Look, Bella, I know I can be a total ass, and I'm not very good at the whole relationship thing, but I've wanted you from the moment you stepped into this kitchen, and it took me up until that night three weeks ago to realize that I actually have real feelings for you."
"Um. Thanks, I think," I mumbled, my mind in a foggy haze of confusion and doubt and above all, lust.
"Am I doing it again?" He groaned, fiercely pulling on his hair. I didn't understand how he wasn't balding by now.
"Doing what?" I asked, startled.
"Being an ass."
"No," I hesitated, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Wait, you're not joking, are you?"
"What? No!" Edward nearly shouted, grabbing my shoulders with more force than necessary.
"So what happens now?" I asked, pressing my hands to his perfect chest.
"Uh, I'm not really sure, I didn't exactly plan anything past that speech-- I'm still surprised I could even get it out."
I laughed, smiling up at him apprehensively. This still didn't feel real. At all. It happened much too fast for my liking.
"Well, you could always start by kissing me," I suggested, feeling like a nervous teenager all over again.
"I could do that," he whispered, reaching up and pulling my hair out of its tight ponytail.
His hand pulled my bottom lip out of my teeth-- I hadn't realized that I was nervously chewing on it-- and moved down to cup my chin as his face descended towards mine.
I breathed in nervously before closing my eyes, and then finally, finally, felt Edward's soft lips press against my own.
With just one touch, it felt as though my veins were on fire, and what was meant to be a soft and slow kiss, quickly turned into quick, rough, passion.
Edward's lips pushed hungrily against mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I groaned loudly, tasting my frosting on his tongue.
His hips ground into my own, pushing me back until I was leaning up against the counter. He lifted me up until I was sitting, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, desperate for more friction.
Edward's hands found their way to the hem of my shirt, slowly dragging it up my stomach as his lips attacked my neck, sure to leave a mark. He broke away momentarily to yank the shirt over my head, then his own, throwing them both on the floor by our feet.
My fingers pushed his pants down over his hips and he quickly stepped out of them as I pushed my mouth back against his lips, sucking and biting his swollen bottom lip. His warm hands found my breasts, ghosting across them before reaching behind me and unclasping my bra.
Before I could process what was happening, Edward had managed to get both of us completely naked in record time, his hands attacking my chest, his nimble fingers twisting and pulling my nipples as my lips travelled down his neck and across his collarbone.
I moaned against his neck, biting down lightly as he continued to pinch the sensitive skin. I ground my hips against him, feeling his erection this close to where I wanted him the most.
"Condom?" He whispered against my neck questioningly.
"I'm on the pill," I breathed, extremely thankful for that at the moment. I didn't want him to move away from me for even a second.
Edward nodded, returning his lips to my own, tracing the outline of my mouth lightly with his tongue. His hands travelled down my torso, rubbing into my sides as my fingernails lightly dug into his back, trying to relieve some of the pressure.
His left hand rested on top of my thigh as his other hand, thank god, finally made contact with my already wet core. His fingers circled my clit before plunging inside of me, making me gasp into his mouth. He pumped his fingers in and out, pushing his thumb against my clit, and all too soon I was spasming and shaking around his fingers, arching my bare chest into Edward's and crying out against his neck.
He kissed me roughly before sliding his fingers out of me, grabbing my ass for leverage as he finally slid into me, just as I was coming down from my high, making me scream out again.
I frantically ground my hips against Edward, needing more friction, and dug my heels into his lower back.
His mouth returned to my own, attacking my lips and my tongue as he repeatedly slammed into me, not even trying to take it slow. I rocked my hips into his own, and his hands found their way to my breasts again, making me see stars.
I could feel the slow build begin, my legs stiffening slightly, tingles of electricity shooting through my veins. I could hear Edward's labored breathing, signaling that he was close as well.
I sped up the pace, no longer able to hold off on the inevitable. One of Edward's hands slid in between us, his fingers kneading into the spot I needed most to send me completely over the edge. I arched against him, the tingles turning to a burning as my orgasm overtook me completely, causing me to shake uncontrollably against Edward. I felt him come inside me simultaneously, both of us collapsing back against the counter.
As we both came down from our high, Edward's lips met my own, slow and perfect and exactly what I needed.
"How was that for a start?" Edward sighed, leaning his forehead against my own.
"Pretty damn good."
Reviews? Complaints?
What's your favorite type of frosting? ;)