Prompt #27: Quote—"I'm not asking for your permission."

Title: Up All Night

Pairing: Sam/Bella

Genre: Romance

Rating: M

Word count: 567

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: I've never had the courage to post anything before, so I decided to participate in Tricky Raven's Weekly Fanfiction Flash Fic Challenge as a way to dip my toes in the water, so to speak. Unfortunately, I missed the deadline for this week's prompt, so I'm posting it here.

Thanks for taking the time to read.

Bella sat in her truck, cell phone to her ear. Please pick up, she silently prayed. While the phone rang, she absentmindedly rubbed the spot over hear heart. All day it felt like a physical weight was pressing down on her chest, squeezing with every beat of her heart.

Several rings later, the voice mail came on, prompting her to leave a message. "Hey, it's me," she said softly into the phone. "I'm stuck at the diner—flat tire. Can you pick me up?"

She sighed and tossed her phone into her purse. Charlie either would or wouldn't show up. However, if she were being honest, she'd be more surprised if he did.

Twenty minutes later, she'd had about all the waiting she could take. She shouldered her purse and stepped out into the rain, heading for home.

She was several blocks from the diner when she stopped short as a big, shiny black truck pulled up alongside her. She couldn't see the driver. The windows were tinted black.

She braced herself as the automatic window rolled down. Rain was dripping from her hair, running into her eyes, when a face she recognized came into view. "Get in, Bella." His voice was a deep rumble that vibrated through her.

Her face heated in embarrassment. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. The way he looked at her as if she were something precious, something to be revered and adored. The way his hands roamed possessively over her while he moved inside her body.

She chalked last night up to a temporary loss of sanity. Much to her shame, she knew only his name and the feel of his body as it moved over hers. Everything else, including the man himself, was a mystery.

What was she even supposed to say to him now that he was here? Thanks for the orgasms? Thanks for making me feel like a used receptacle when, immediately afterward, you whispered, "I have to go," and all but ran from me?

Her embarrassment gave way to anger. She'd been longing for him all night and day. "No, thanks," she hissed. "Walking ain't crowded."

He got out of his truck and walked around to the passenger side, crowding her against the door with his body. Cupping her face, he tipped it up toward him. "You're not walking."

"And I'm not asking for your permission." Her voice came out breathless and husky, much to her dismay.

She could breathe easier in his presence, the weight seemingly gone. She drew in a slightly shaky breath, licked her lips.

His eyes drifted down to her mouth and her lips parted, anticipation stealing her breath. "I'm going to kiss you, baby."

That was the only warning she got before his mouth crashed down on hers and he kissed her hard, roughly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. With a growl, he cupped the back of her thighs and lifted her, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He traced her jaw with his lips. Moving down, he breathed hot, moist kisses against her neck, using his teeth and tongue as he went. "You smell so goo—"

His head snapped up suddenly and he gazed into the forest.

"Sam, what's wrong?" she whispered.

He started at her a long moment, his jaw tight, before setting her carefully on her feet. "Time to get you home."