Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. Beta'd by HollettLA.
"Class Act"
Chapter Twenty-Four: Slippery Slope
After he dumped me onto his king-sized bed, I bounced with a giggle and heard him kick off his shoes. I took in the room first. There was no clutter anywhere. The color scheme was black and white, with many shades of gray—like us. Nothing was personal about it either, and I dug that.
After this, there was no going back. I'd screw Edward and then go back to little boys who didn't know my nipple from my clit? I stopped those thoughts dead. Just because he had the years did not make him some master of the bedroom.
Then all thoughts stopped when he took off his shirt. He was man—a man. He wasn't as built as Jake, but he had a scruffy, ruggedly sculpted chest along with his face.
He was beautiful—aged to perfection, if I wanted to be all cliché about it. "Wow."
He puffed his cheeks, blowing out a big breath. "You're here—really here."
I nodded, rising to my knees. "I am." Slowly, I inched toward him, and he reached low to lift my shirt from my torso.
Edward stared at my breasts. His hands came out too, only to grasp the air. "You're here."
"Yes." I nodded, matter of factly.
He trailed his finger down the center of my breasts, and a chill ran down my spine. "What—what do you want me to do?" He was quick on the uptake, since he noticed my clasp was in the front.
His fingers were chilled as he undid it, and then another breath fell from him, and he stared—stared at my bare chest—for a very long time. I wasn't looking at a clock, but I bet a few minutes passed us by.
"Ed—"
"What do you want?" he whispered, going for my jeans.
I sucked in my stomach to stop it from trembling. "You—"
He let out a growl that rumbled through his chest before he hovered over me.
Pinned to the bed, I found that funny. Eighteen or twenty-six, men were still as eager as ever. "You're warm." In contrast to his hands, the rest him felt almost feverish.
He hummed, snaking his hands around my back to hug me tight, planting his ear to my chest. "Your heart's beating so fast."
His bronze hair was threatening to tickle my nose, and it looked so soft. Just as I was about to touch it, he faced me—pursing his lips with hooded eyes. "You feel amazing." He thrust his erection into me, and holy fuck, it felt like a monster.
"Ouch," I whimpered.
"Shhh." He soothed. "Are you on, uh, something? I have condoms . . ."
My eyes widened. "I am, but . . . you're an adult," I mumbled. "We should use. . . something?"
He shook his head. "If you're covered . . . I want to feel you—all of you."
"When—when—" I stammered, trying to sit up. No matter how intense or passionate all of this was, Edward and I just weren't one-night stand people. We had to talk about it. At least I did, as I didn't want to die for a fuck.
"Can I just fuck you?" he shouted.
His voice, so loud and commanding, made me shudder. "Yes."
He nodded. "Good—Christ—I'm sorry." He sat up, resting back on his calves. "I need a minute."
I frowned.
He twirled a finger by his ear. "I need to get my head together." And he was gone. He left the bed and the room so fast.
"Uh . . . we're still going to—"
"YES!" he screamed. "I just need a minute." His voice was much softer.
At a crossroads, I didn't know whether I should get naked or run for my truck.
I had no idea what to do.
What would you do?
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