ENTRY FOR THE CURVACEOUS AND BODACIOUS BOMBSHELL FIC CONTEST
Story Name: Forbbiden Fruit
Penname: Kimmydonn
Rating: M
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Mrs. Cope/Edward
Total Word Count: 2430
Summary: Like her fellow staff, Mrs Cope often has passing fancies for the Cullens, but what she really loves is her husband.
Edward Cullen breezed out the door, dropping his pleas to be transferred to a different Biology class. My eyes followed that pert behind all the way out, not noticing Isabella Swan until she slid the mid-term registration form over the desk. When had she come in? Sometime while Edward was talking.
Edward... I shouldn't be thinking about him that way, but when he ran those long nimble fingers through his hair...
Shifting on my seat I took the sheet from her, trying to remember my age. "How did your first day go, dear?" Charlie was a dear friend, and I knew he was over the moon to have Isabella home. Hopefully she liked it here and would stay; he needed someone. He'd never really tried to find anyone after his wife left, flighty thing. This Isabella looked like she might be the same.
"Fine," she said drearily, and I noticed how pale she looked. That just turned me back to thinking about Edward's complexion, dark eyes against white skin. Dark eyes boring into me, entreating me...
Enough! I snapped at myself mentally. He was ten years younger than me, for goodness sake. Still, I knew more than one of the staff had the same problem with one or another of the Cullens. Banner had a soft spot for little Alice, Principal Greene would deny Rosalie nothing, Louise had admitted to having thought about Jasper at the Christmas party... It was a common affliction. None of us acted on them, not really. I mean, I'd indulged a fantasy in the private of my home.
I looked around, checking for anyone in the hall. I was technically supposed stay for another hour, but I was useless like this. Locking up the office, I rushed home, running myself a bath and lighting a pillar candle. Then, I gave over to the horrible thoughts in my head.
"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" Edward asks, leaning further over the desk and running one finger down my cheek. "Anyway I can arrange it?" The finger turns, brushing over my plump lips. I purse them, kissing the tip.
"There might be something," I say with a smile that pulls my cheek up and into the hand he cups around it.
"I'm so grateful," he says with a smile that promises more than I would normally hope to expect, even from Leonard, my husband. His lips meet mine and suddenly he's on my side of the desk, hands running over my hips. "Soft," he murmurs, "round. Almost too much woman for me."
"I think you can handle it," I tease, reaching up to put my fingers into that luscious hair he's always tugging. It is a stretch, being so much shorter than him. He moans and grips my ass, lifting me onto the desk with a slight huff. I hop to help, but he's strong.
"I'll certainly try," he promises, those long fingers working their way down my blouse. His lips make their way from mine over my chin, down into the cleavage he's revealing. Tipping my chin up, I pull his head closer, shuddering when he puts his nose right down to my bra-line, tracing it. Being fantasy, I'm not wearing the plain white G cup I normally do, but one that is black and lacy, pushing me up slightly. That perfect peaked nose turns to the side, pulling down the lace and exposing my nipple, already dark and pointed. His tongue running over it nearly undoes me by itself, especially when he starts using his teeth.
"Oh God, Edward," I murmur.
My voice echoing in the bathroom detracted a little from the dream. My hand made its way over my middle and between my legs, far ahead of Edward. It didn't matter. The thought of him lavishing me with attention has done more than enough. I run my nails over my inner thighs while pinching one nipple, still imagining his teeth.
Warm water, like warm arms, surrounded me, submerging me, letting me float very slightly in it's embrace. Hugging every inch of me, every crevice, my breasts and the tops of my thighs were the only patches pushed over the surface.
"Sheila," he murmurs, pushing up my skirt and sliding a hand between my thighs. His breath rolls in my ear, his lips on the shell, making me shiver. "I want to feel you."
Wantonly, my legs spread a little further and his fingers graze the damp fabric between them. "God, you're so hot, wet, ready." Each words pushes me a little further, making my breath come in heavier pants, breasts rubbing on his chest, each one burning at the touch. Why haven't we taken this ridiculous bra off yet? Instead I'm pushed up but exposed by the folded down cups.
"For you," I answer. "Touch me, Edward. Right there." My hand finds his elbow, nudging him toward me.
"I will," he promises, "and again, and again. I want to see your skin slick. I want to see you flush, the pink spreading over you."
His voice, god, his voice drove me mad, and those fingers, long, nimble, sliding into me, rubbing me. His lips roam, whispering more images more promises while stimulating me.
"When you're sure you can't handle more, that's when I'm going to take you. I'm going to keep you here, keep you going. I think perhaps I'll feel those round breasts wrapped around me. They look like they would be perfect to hold around around me when it's my turn. That won't be soon, though. I have so much more for you first."
The water splashed as I rubbed myself. My wrist was pinching from the angle, but I was too lost in the dream, in the lust to care. I thought I heard a thud downstairs, but like the pain in my wrist, it didn't really register. I needed more Edward.
"Everyone's gone home. You don't have to be quiet," he tells me, hand moving in and out, rubbing my clit when he wasn't thrusting. Then he turns his hand and rubs both together.
"Holy shit," I groan, closing my thighs around on his hand.
"Yes," he encourages. "Tell me how good it is." His head dips again, taking my breast in his free hand, fingers spread to cover it, leaving the nipple between, pinching as he squeezes.
"Fuck," I curse. "It feels fucking amazing. Don't stop... don't stop fucking..." My head falls back to the desk now that his arm isn't around me. He lifts his hand and my hips, working his fingers faster and putting his mouth to the neglected nipple. "God, Edward, don't stop..."
"I don't plan on stopping, Sheila," he says. "I'm just going to replace my fingers in a little while, feel those slick hot walls of you closing on my cock. You want that don't you? You want me to fuck you."
"Fuck, yes," I murmur between pants, linking my knees behind him as I bear down on his hand, the orgasm loosing inside each time he thrusts over the spot inside that clenches. "Fuck me, Edward. Please."
"Soon. You don't like my fingers? They aren't filling you enough? Should I give you another?" Acting on his suggestion, I'm spread further, head knocking on the desk as I shudder. I'll take his whole hand, all of him, anything.
"Yes, fuck me, yes. Coming so hard on you, Holy, fuck... Damn, God."
"Holy, fuck, damn, God. Ungh." My voice resounded, my pussy clenching on my fingers, wishing they weren't mine. "Oh, god."
The bathroom door burst in. Leonard stood there, pants around his ankles stroking himself. He stepped out of them toward me. "Fuck, you sound so fucking hot." He started to climb in the tub with me. "And you look amazing, so ready, so open. God, I want you."
"Wait!" I pulled my hands out to put to his chest. The water was already sloshing onto the floor.
"Oh, fuck the water," he said, descending on me. "You are so sexy, baby." His lips found my neck and it could have been Edward again. I was still so hot, still needed him inside me.
He leaned heavily on me and pinched my arm making me squeal. Then his knee ended up in my side. I couldn't help it, I started to laugh.
"Len, there isn't enough room in here. Take me to bed."
"Yes, ma'am," he said happily, half-lifting me to my feet. His hands never left my ass as he chased me out of the bathroom, slipping in the puddle we'd made. He squeezed each buttock, fingers brushing the bottom, just close enough to my heat to make me gasp. When I made the bed, he sunk, kissing the flesh he'd been caressing a moment ago. His nose fell between just as I'd imagined Edward's in my cleavage.
"Fuck, Len. What are you doing?" I tried to look over my shoulder, but his lips and tongue were at work, obviously finding something he wanted. My legs twitched a little, lifting to my toes, wanting that tongue and fingers just a little lower.
"I'm getting there, baby," he promised, rubbing a finger along my slit and making me moan. Using both hands he held me open, tongue working over my pussy and then my clit and back.
"M-more," I stuttered. I'd done as much myself. I needed his cock. I tried to imagine Edward's in my mind. I didn't really have anything to work with there, so it was Leonard's that slammed into me, both in reality and in my head. Arching back off the bed, he slid his hands from my hips, up over my belly to cup my breasts, holding me like that, not moving, just burying himself in me. My hips swivelled, seeking friction, movement. "Fuck." That's what I needed, what he wasn't giving me.
"Soon," he said, hand sliding down again to be caught between bed and belly, fingers at the edge of my pubic hair. He twiddled them, teasing, catching my clit at odd intervals, perfect for making me crazy. I was grinding harder, clenching my teeth seconds before my ass.
"Yeah," he whispered, "come all over me, Sheila. Come hard for me. God you feel good in my hands, on my dick. So hot."
Shuddering, I started to come down. He had to have known. At that moment, he curled his fingers and slid back. His hand on my breast dropped to my hip, resulting in my weight falling onto the bed, my legs useless. His fingers moved for the first few thrusts, but then joined it's mate on my opposite hip, holding me for his fucking. Thumbs pulling me open, fingers digging into my ass, he gripped as he fucked, making me scream again.
"Fucking damn, Len. I'm going to come again. Oh my God."
"You better," he threatened. "I'm not going to stop fucking you until you do. Until you come so hard you pull it out of me."
"Oh, ung, God... damn..." I started swearing in time to his fucking, each thrust pushing another puff of air, another expletive from my lungs. When he throbbed though, when I knew he was coming with me, it was like I hadn't really come before at all. Twitching, writhing, gritting my teeth, I shuddered around him, nothing clear anymore. Was that my husband behind me? Was I in my room? Or was I still in the office and Edward Cullen was erupting inside me? It didn't matter. Feeling the flush, the sweat spreading over me, I thought about needing a shower so soon after a bath, giggling to myself.
"Funny was it?" Leonard asked, bouncing on the mattress as he flopped next to me.
"Sort of. Are you early or was I in the tub that long?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm the mailman in disguise."
I snorted, and shuffled further onto the bed, curling into his arms. "Actually, you were a totally off-limits, under-aged young man. Did you know your wife was a perv?"
He grinned. "You think I don't know how lucky I am? Pervy wives are all the rage."
Laughing, I had to ask, "So who was I?"
He snorted. "You were you. I can imagine someone else sometimes, but it was your voice that drove me mad." His lips found my temple, my ear. "The thought of you getting off, seeing you glistening and wet in the tub," he said in a groan.
I chuckled, but sighed, too, looking down at myself. "You don't miss 'size 9' me?"
"Never," he swore. "More of you to love. And damn that ass is fine," he squeezed a cheek, making me laugh again, and nuzzle his chest, still covered in a t-shirt that was damp from the bathwater. He made the dreams possible; he made the fantasies more than incredulous fiction. To him, I was sexy. To him I was the ripest fruit ready to fall from the tree, not the elusive piece at the top. To him, I was all he dreamed of, all he wanted. To him, I was beautiful, and so, I was, and could be for Edward Cullen in my head.
Shaking my head to rid it of the forbidden, bitter fruit, I rubbed my legs along Leonard's. I wanted him again. Only him.
a/n My hubby is a big fan of 'more for me to love' and I HATE it. Still, he dreams of me. *g* Thanks to Fangmom for the pre-read