Disclaimer: lemons


Big God - Florence The Machine

"You need a big god. Big enough to hold your love. You need a big god. Big enough to fill you up."


Jasper

"Faster," She pants into my mouth as I claim one of her moans with my mouth, doing as she says by grinding faster against her. "Right...there..."

I can't deny her anything—not now—I didn't want to deny her of this. Of what we both wanted.

God, she's insatiable.

I loved every single minute of it.

I couldn't get enough of this one woman that intoxicated the very air I breathed from the moment I laid eyes on her at the wedding. I was sure every man noticed her the moment she walked into the room with her deep green silk dress that hugged her curves and breasts. Noticed the way her long dark brown hair cascaded down the pale skin exposed on her back. It was impossible to miss. She was a goddess.

But it was those eyes that stopped me in my tracks. Those damn eyes that fluttered open to meet mine every time she looked at me. The deepest brown I'd ever seen meeting my eyes, holding me captive. Intriguing me bad enough that I knew I wanted, no needed, to meet this girl I'd never seen before who was attending my brother's wedding. And when I heard her gentle, timid voice? Noticed the pink tint on her cheeks that bloomed across her face while she swayed her hips back and forth on the dance floor—

"Fuck, baby." I hissed into her shoulder as her nails dragged down my back. Every line burned down my skin, marking me with her delicious need to claim me and I claimed her, over and over again. All night. I thrust deeper into her, making both of us moan loud enough that I suspected my neighbors could probably hear us. Fuck, if I cared about that now.

Her whispered moan made my heart race, "Please don't stop...please—" I claimed her mouth again, slipping my tongue past her soft lips while simultaneously pushing my hips against her swollen pussy. Giving her what she wanted—never once wanting her to beg for what I was so willing to give.

"You're so wet. So good." I pant as I thrust into her soaking wet core, faster and faster. I could feel her tightening around me, pulling me in with the same intensity in which I needed to be buried deep inside.

I take one of her nipples in my mouth and bite down hard as I roll my hips into her, in and out, hitting that delicious g-spot of hers that makes her toes curl every time. My cock aches for the release, but I don't want this to ever end. My heart is pounding in rhythm to my thrusts, and my breathing is heavy.

"You want me to make you come, darlin'?" I whisper into her ear before leaning back to look her in those hazy, lust-filled eyes.

"Yes, make me come. Oh god," she says breathlessly, propping herself up on her elbows to get closer to me—capturing my lips with hers. Her fingers dig into my hair tugging hard enough that it ignited the feral need to claim her. Every damn inch. And I did.

Normally I wasn't one to let go of control. I was the control. In every aspect of my life. At work, I was known as a strict, jackass with a god complex—or so I'd heard. My home was often called a clinic by Emmett, everything tidy and in its proper place. In bed... as I said, I controlled everything, and every woman I'd ever slept with loved it. Sure I probably sound like a man with a god complex now but it was the truth and I wasn't selfish. I gave as much as I took.

But with this girl whose name I don't even know—it was different. So fucking different it remained imprinted in my mind days later.

We'd been having sex since we arrived at my apartment, fucking late into the night. But when we weren't, I made sure to go slow as I ate her out—making her come as I gently licked her sensitive clit before sensually thrusting my fingers into her, watching as I made her come with a few silent moans. I loved every moment of it.

When she pushed me down on the bed, however, riding me in greedy bliss, biting my shoulder, scratching my back, telling me how slow or how hard to go, I was utterly speechless. Taken back by her innocent assertiveness that I was sure she had no idea just how hot it was.

She was a vixen.

It sounded stupid but I'd never had sex like this in my life. Never to the point where I couldn't get enough of the woman writhing underneath me.

And this woman, who held onto me as she orgasmed every single time with legs quivering and mouth hanging open for me to claim her moan, I never knew I could enjoy sex as much as I did now.

Before slumping down onto the bed, both a panting mess and fully satisfied for what was left of our night, I'd planned on doing this again the next day. Preferably with her actual name falling from my lips and not the term I'd been calling her this whole time. Darlin'.

I knew she would have wanted the same thing—or at least I thought I did if she hadn't disappeared. The next morning I woke up to find the left side of my bed empty. I'll admit I'd been disappointed that she'd left without giving me so much as a phone number or her name to put to the face, to the body of the woman I'd thoroughly fucked. Hell, she'd fucked me too.

Much to my disappointment, I didn't think I'd ever run into the doe-eyed woman with chocolate orbs that stared into mine all night.

I had no idea just how fucking wrong I'd be.


"What the hell is this?" I muttered under my breath as I ran a hand through my hair, glaring at the papers on my desk as I tapped my red pen impatiently. The answers some of my students gave were really eye-opening, telling me they had little interest in the assignment or honestly thought they knew enough about the Civil War to wing it. Mike Newton's answers never disappointed me. If anything his answers reminded me of the kind you see posted as memes on social media. It wasn't that he was stupid. The kid had a brain and knew how to apply it if only he'd actually try. I'd given up trying to give him advice halfway through the semester as I caught him plagiarizing another student's paper.

There were a few good papers, I'll admit and most of the class passed. I was only last stack when I noticed the name written in neat script at the top of the paper, staring right at me: Isabella Marie Swan.

I sat back and tried to focus on reading her paper without thinking about the face that belonged to the name.

After our little meeting at the coffee shop a few weeks ago, I did my best to avoid Isabella Swan. But it seemed that Seattle wasn't big enough because I saw the young woman every other day either in school or on the city streets as she walked with her friends.

At first, I couldn't believe I'd slept with a student of mine, no matter how temporary it was as I filled for Emmett's class. But still, she was off-limits. As much as I resented the very idea of never touching her again and hated myself for fantasizing about her—I couldn't let myself think about her.

I should consider myself lucky that she wasn't underage at least but that was the only thing preventing me from losing my career and my life it seemed. At least I'm not going to prison.

It didn't help that I ran into her so often every time I seemed to leave my office.

After the conversation we had, I never spoke to Isabella again. She sure as hell made it clear that she didn't want to talk to me every time she turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction. I almost wanted to tell her that her avoidance of me was worse than acknowledging my existence when her friend Rosalie Hale always seemed to quirk an eyebrow in question and followed after her friend.

"We had fun. That's what people do right? One-night stands and all that. That's all we did so don't stress about it."

Jesus, she'd been so sure of herself. She'd barely given me much time to say that I'd had every intention of seeing her again if she'd wanted the same. But just like that night, she ran away before I could utter another word. I had the urge to chase after her, grab the same wrist I'd held in my hand, and pinned above her head.

If she wasn't your student you would have...

I should be relieved that she's not reporting me to the school board. A small part of me, however, was the part that still craved her. The part that saw all the layers underneath her calm, detached attitude the night of the wedding, though she felt the same as me. No matter how stupid it was to consider now.

Doesn't matter. It's over so forget about her, Whitlock.

After grading all the midterm papers and posting the grades in the system, I noticed the time and decided to call it a night. Packing my stuff up and locking up my office I made my way out of the school, greeting the janitors as I passed them in the halls.

The sun had begun to set when I stepped outside. The sky painted crimson as the clouds shifted and became a part of the night as they turned an ash mauve, almost black.

As I drove to my apartment on the other side of town, I was more than happy to lock myself away in the comfort of my own space and shed the facade of the stoic, non-bullshit teacher students and fellow colleagues loathed. Well everyone except for Emmett I suppose, since he was my best friend and had been since we met in college.

I'd started loosening my tie as I stepped out to the elevator, taking my time walking down the hall to reach my door as I already felt my tense muscles begin to relax with the knowledge that I would be taking a hot shower in a few minutes.

But as luck would have it, nothing would ever go as I planned when I stopped in my tracks as I turned the corner. Isabella Swan sat on the bottom step of the stairs that led to another floor. Her head was down, and her hands braced on her bouncing knees while her long hair provided a curtain of thick mahogany waves. Hiding her face and preventing her from noticing me.

My heart did a stupid jump in my chest, and my stomach tightened at the sight of her.

She was soaked to the bone from the rain. A puddle gathered around her boots on the tiled floors. I took in her hunched-over poster and bouncing knees as anxiety. The lack of a raincoat and bag set of wanting bells in my head, and I found myself speaking before I could stop myself.

Walking up to her, I pulled out my keys and waited until she lifted her face to acknowledge me.

What I saw on her face nearly ripped me to shreds. Awakening this hot rage I'd only felt once in my life a long time ago.

The first thing I noticed was the split lip; dried blood smeared on the corner where she must have tried to wipe it away. Then it was the bloodshot eyes that made my jaw tick. Where they'd once been warm and curious, now they were hollow—lifeless orbs. That scared the shit out of me, and I didn't let myself consider why. Not now.

Moving to unlock my door, I felt her wary gaze on me the whole time. I could have asked her a hundred things at that moment. Instead, they were all racing through my mind, gnawing at me.

Who did this to you?

Did someone hurt you? Who?

Why are you here?

Why me, of all people?

But instead, I forced my hands to drop to my sides, if only to keep myself from reaching out for her trembling hands, and let out a deep sigh when I managed to find my voice, "Get in."

This time, she didn't run from me. And I knew it was because she was currently running away from someone else. I'd be damned if I let her go anywhere after seeing the state she was in now.