Thursday, 10:55 pm

I'm so excited by the possibility of who's there that I run to the door, foolishly throwing it open, not considering the late hour or the fact that I have an unexpected visitor.

The sight that greets me is enough to nearly drop me to my knees.

Edward stands there; his green eyes, nearly black in the dim light, are a mixture of confusion and determination. One hand's in his hair, obviously having just pushed it off his face; the other holds a black motorcycle helmet. A well-worn leather jacket sits squarely on shoulders that are held high, quite the opposite of the defeated person that walked away from me earlier this evening.

I can't help how my eyes scan him—he's truly breathtaking—but his demeanor has me on edge.

"Edward—"

My words are cut-off when he steps toward me. Setting his helmet on the floor just inside the door, he pulls me into his arms. His hand is behind my neck, fingers firm in their grasp as he holds me locked so close to him that I can feel his heavy breaths fluttering against my skin. If it's even possible, his eyes darken further and then he's crashing his lips brutally to mine and his tongue's pushing into my mouth. Everything about this kiss is forceful… and again, determined. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I'm powerless to stop him. I don't want to stop him.

Without taking his lips from mine, he walks us backward into the entry. I feel him reach to shut the door, the click of the lock echoing loudly in the tiled room.

And then I feel the hard wall behind my back. Taking both my hands in his he lifts my arms high; it's as if he's securing me to the wall. His body pushes firmly against mine. I can feel him at every point of contact; his hard boots against my bare toes, the denim of his jeans dragging over the soft cotton of my pajamas, the cold metal of his belt buckle against the skin of my stomach, the zipper of his jacket pushing into my chest, and his teeth and lips as they punish mine.

"Couldn't stay away…" he mutters against my neck. "Want you… Fuck that! Need you."

"I'm yours, Ed. You have me."

As if he hasn't even heard what I said, he keeps muttering. "So much, baby… Couldn't stay away… Fucking beautiful… Feel so good… Taste so. Fucking. Good."

"Edward!" I force my hands down and bring them to his face, cupping his stubble-rough jaw. He tries to resist, continuing to nip at my skin, but I repeat his name. "Edward." His eyes meet mine again; they are no less determined but I seem to have his attention. "Let's go upstairs, love."

All I get in response is a nod; he allows me to take his hand and lead him silently up the stairs.

We walk into my bedroom, reaching the middle of the floor before I feel his grasp on my hand tighten and I'm pulled around and back into his arms. He just holds me, his face nuzzled into my neck and his arms tight around my waist. There's so much to the embrace, it's warm and comforting, and I feel as if it's repairing the distance I've felt between us. When Edward's lips begin to nuzzle my skin again I sigh. It feels good and so tender in comparison to what happened only minutes before downstairs.

The calm doesn't last for long though; I begin to feel the hard edge of Edward's teeth, and the bruising force of his lips as he begins to suck on my skin. His body starts to rut against mine. I may not be pinned to a wall, but the pressure of his embrace allows me to feel every part of him just as if I were.

Hands grasp at my sleep-shirt, pulling it up my body. Fingers trail the path as he lifts, sending little sparking currents into my flesh. Pulling back he lifts it over my head and then discards it on the floor. His lips meet mine again at the same time as I feel his hands push down over my hips and under the fabric of my pajamas. Down my legs he goes, reaching nearly halfway down my thighs, and when he pulls up again his hands stop and cup my buttocks, his fingers kneading the flesh and pulling my hips forward to meet his.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" he asks, again pushing his pelvis into mine. "I can't stay away from you."

Why is he saying this? "Edward, you don't—" Again he cuts my words off with a kiss, leaving me no room to speak, and little desire to do so if I'm honest, but my mind's a cacophony of confusion. He's saying one thing and then totally contradicting himself with his actions, but I have little time to lament it when he hooks his fingers under my waistband and pushes my pajamas down my legs. They fall to the floor, pooling around my feet.

I'm naked—exposed in so many ways.

His hand reaches forward and cups my cock, his fingers massaging my sack for a moment before gripping my length in a tight hold. He strokes me, agonizingly slowly, rubbing his thumb over my tip… around and around. Never do his eyes leave mine. Even when he leans in—his hand still pumping me—and kisses me, his eyes bore into mine. Pulling back, his free hand caresses my face, his thumb grazing my bottom lip, then he moves down over my neck and across my chest, stopping just short of my nipple—teasing me.

He takes half a step back, removing his hands from my chest and cock at the same time. Still his eyes are locked to mine, even as he says, "Get on the bed, Jazz."


Thanks for reading.