A/N: Unbeta'd. Don't yell at me, please.
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BPOV
I hear my cell ringing from somewhere in the living room, but I ignore it, tipping my head back and letting the rush of water over my ears drown out the sound. I check out again, drifting back to the night Edward Cullen officially became a problem.
Halfway from the bar to my truck, I'm cursing my heels. Damn Jessica's pregnant ass. I was left to cover her shift after my own seven hour one when she went into labor tonight. And of course I said yes. I'm not a total bitch. But now my feet are killing me, my back aches, and I smell like beer and sweat. I should've faked a stroke or something. A stroke trumps a baby, right? And why the hell did I think heels were a good idea tonight anyway? They make my legs look fantastic, but my spine is screaming for mercy. Maybe Jasper has the right idea with those ugly ass Crocs he wears. Ugh, Crocs. I can't believe I ever let his penis near me, drunk or not.
"Bella?"
"Ahh!" Startled, I swing around so fast that I slam my wrist against the side mirror of my truck.
"Shit, are you okay?" Edward. I don't miss the snort of laughter he tries to hide.
"What the hell are you doing skulking around in the dark like that?! You scared the hell out of me!" I rub my wrist and glare at his stupid, angular, scruffy face. He steps closer, smirking at me, but having the decency to look mildly chastised.
"I didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to talk to you for a second. You okay?" He nods to my wrist, which I'm still rubbing. It's throbbing like a son of a bitch.
But of course I'm like, "I'm fine."
"Liar. You almost took the mirror off. Let me see." There's a strange kind of charm to the way he sounds concerned, but also like he's barely resisting the urge to laugh at me.
"What? No."
"Don't be a baby about it." And then he's two steps closer and taking my wrist into his hands. His big hands. His big, warm, masculine, knows-where-to-put-them-to-make-me-scream hands. I feel the end of my ponytail graze down the skin of my back as I tip my head up to look at his face. He's focused on my wrist, but I'm stalled out in that space beneath the sharp line of his jaw. I want to bite it until his pulse beats between my teeth. Until it races for me."It's gonna be a wicked bruise, but you're fine."
"Didn't I already say that?" But it doesn't come out as indignant as I'd planned. It hitches a ride out of my mouth on this kind of breathy whisper. He's looking down at me now. My eyes, then my mouth, then my wrist. He rubs a thumb across it and I wince. He answers by lowering his mouth and brushing his lips across my skin, where the purpling of a bruise is already evident.
And then I make the first mistake in a series of so fucking many when I lean in and put my lips on his. Right over where his mouth meets my wrist. I hold still then, but only for a beat because then he turns to me, lips parted, and presses his mouth to mine. The tips of our tongues touch and I forget everything. That we're in a public parking lot. That my feet and back and wrist ache. That this is a stupid fucking idea. That I'm giving him the wrong fucking idea. All of it. There's only the taste of him and the weight of him pressing me into the side of my truck. The hot, wet way he kisses. Slow and deep, and then fast and rough. He bites at my bottom lip and I can't take it anymore. I reach behind me and open the door to the backseat, backing myself inside and pulling him on top of me.
And also thanking God and all the wise men that I opted for an SUV, and that I'd laid the seats down yesterday to help Rosalie move school supplies and shit to her classroom for the new year. Glory be to cargo space!
He pulls back, breathing hard, when I try to use my foot to close the door. "Wait, wait. I didn't come here for this, Bella." He almost ruins the mood with the way he says my name. Gentle and almost timid, like he enjoys the way it tastes.
But then he reaches down to adjust him self through his jeans, and my head is back in the game. When he opens his mouth again to speak, I sit up on my elbows and "Don't. Just fuck me." We're both panting, but he pauses, staring at me almost too long for my comfort.
Almost.
He swallows and I can see the moment he decides to leave well enough alone. He reaches back without looking to close the door himself and rises up to his knees. And then that guy thing is happening where they fist the collar of their shirt at the back of their neck and whip it off. My legs are parted on either side of him and he pushes my knees towards my chest, removing both of my shoes and dropping them to the floorboard. I have zero time to register the relief I feel in my feet before my underwear joins my discarded shoes. He flattens one hand next to my face as he lowers himself on top of me, the other slipping beneath my skirt. My eyes roll into the back of my head when he starts with firm strokes up and down my clit, each pass bringing his two fingers closer to being inside me. And then he's dipping them in, just long enough to get them wet, before sliding them back to my clit again. Back and forth. Up and down. Over and over and over, with his lips running across my jaw, my cheeks, my chin, my mouth. His teeth nibbling my skin and lips, making my limbs shake. I slide my hands into his hair and pull as everything explodes into silence, bright white and deafening. My whole body arches up into his as he pushes his cock into me mid-orgasm. He's so fucking good at this, keeping the rhythm his fingers started. My mouth makes noises I'm not in charge of. I can hear him grunting dirty words, coaxing and praising me as I writhe beneath him.
He licked my chattering teeth as I came around him that night, unafraid that I'd bite him. Hurt him.
It was a carelessness I'd make him regret.
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HIIIIIIIIII! I know I fell away and I know that sucked. Hope you're still here and still maybe care about what happens with these two. These two, huh? Yeesh.
~jada~