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Word Prompt: Scramble

Plot Generator—Idea Completion: The plot thickens.

Edward's apartment is a lot cleaner than I'm expecting. Well, that's not true: I suspect he planned on inviting me over, so I figured it would be neat, but it's more than that. It's spotless.

It's really nice, too, very...modern.

"So this is where you sleep," I say, leaving my purse, and shoes, near the door. They're comfy heels, and cute, but I prefer being barefoot.

"This is it," he says, taking his jacket off. He smiles when he sees my feet and follows suit, leaving his shoes beside mine.

"It's immaculate."

"I have someone who comes every couple of days." He rolls his eyes when he catches my smirk. "I'm not messy, Bella. I just don't...like...scrubbing. Or mopping."

"Who does?" I laugh. "To be fair, though, I can't imagine you doing either of those things."

Taking my hand, he leads me through the living room, down the hall and into the kitchen. It's pretty spacious for an apartment, and very open. Lots of wood, which I like, and warmly toned walls. Recessed lighting, making things feel cozy.

"Love this," I say, running my hand over his stove. Like the rest of the kitchen, it's stainless steel.

"You should come and use it."

"Maybe I will."

He smiles, brushing his hand over the small of my back. "Wine?"

"Please."

There are two bottles of wine on the counter. Pulling one forward, he opens it and sets it aside. Next, he retrieves two glasses from an overhead cabinet and fills them.

I follow him back to the living room, to the couch - natch.

"What?" he asks, answering my grin with one of his own.

"The couch. This is like, our zone."

"It is." He hands me a glass as he sits. "It's a good place to...relax."

It's an in-between place, I think. More intimate than some places but not as much as others. The wine he's chosen is good, a mellow red blend that leans closer to sweet. I like it, especially as an after dinner drink.

I don't know what I'm expecting, exactly. I mean, I know what I want. I know that I'm ready to be with Edward in all the ways, which is a certainty I have not felt for years. I've been with a couple of guys, but in the end, it was never worth it. There is nothing worse than the hollowness of being with someone physically when there's little connection emotionally.

This is not the case with Edward, though, and he's got me feeling so much now it's a little overwhelming. I feel like with every conversation, every barbecue at Emmet's, every phone call and hang out and date, my walls have come down, my defenses crumbled. I don't want to be good and responsible right now. I want to be who I am, and want what I am, and have this.

More so, I want to have this and have it be good. Not one or the other.

Oh, Lord - he's talking. Quiet, sweet, his eyes sparkling as he says whatever he's saying and as usual I'm in la-la land. Blinking rapidly, I nod, but he just pauses and puts his glass down.

"What'd I just say, Bella?" he asks, a playful lilt to his voice.

I take a another sip of wine to buy myself time, but then he takes that away, too, and grabs my hands. We stare at each other for a second, and damn. He's delicious.

"You want to know the truth?" I ask, caressing the palm of his hand with my fingertips.

Eyes staying focused on mine, he nods slowly, hypnotizing.

"It's hard for me to focus around you because I'm so very attracted to you. I try to keep up, but sometimes my mind just goes, and it's not because what you're saying isn't important - it so is - it's because you're too much. You say things, and your voice...you...scramble my brains."

His mouth quirks into a grin, and before I can even attempt to rectify the ridiculousness I just uttered, he pulls me onto his lap and kisses me.

And oh, here the plot thickens. These are not the slow, wandering kissing we usually share, exploring each other's mouths and emotions. Not even the sexier ones, where we're grabby and breathless and practically dry humping in the kitchen. Well, we are dry humping on his couch, but this is kissing with a purpose, kissing with a destination, every moment intensifying until he stands up. I slide from his lap, glad he didn't try to carry me because maybe that works in the movies but with my luck we'd hit a wall or slip on a rug and pass out.

"I was saying," he murmurs, kissing the corners of my mouth, one after the other, "that I never thought it would be you. I'd hear things from Emmett over the years, but I had no idea."

"No idea what?" I breathe, fighting to comprehend what he's communicating through the lust fog threatening to take me down.

"No idea what you looked like, or...sounded like. Felt like." His hands run down my back and over the swell of my ass, quickening my breath.

I bring his face to mine, kissing his mouth. "So let's...go see what I feel like."

Edward's bedroom is all blacks and greys, dark nights and thunderstorms and other sexy metaphors my desperate mind is struggling to come up with. Without further ado, he reaches down, tickling his fingers up under my dress until he finds my panties. I grab his shoulders, holding on while he takes them off.

We kiss. My body curves into his, submitting to the warmth of his hands all over me.

My dress comes next, peeled from my body and discarded. He advances, pushing me gently on to the bed. The lights are dim, but I still feel slightly on display, closing my knees until he joins me. Reaching back, he tugs his shirt off. He unbuttons his jeans but leaves his boxers briefs on - I knew he'd be in boxers briefs - sliding on to the bed and on to me, the material a welcome friction against my skin.

It's as if he was holding back some before, maybe not wanting to start something he knew we couldn't finish, because tonight he is on fire. His kisses are devouring flames, licking at every inch of me: my lips, ears, neck and belly. My eyes close when the pleasure is too intense only to open again because I want so badly to see the tattoos I've only been given glimpses of.

There are flowers, designs, and so many faces...he kisses my bellybutton, snagging the skin between his teeth...renderings as real as photographs and sketches as wispy as dreams...his spreads my legs, startling me with his insistence...A Star of David; two, if I count the one on his hand...his tongue, oh. Oh.

My fingers are in his hair now, and his are in me, working me toward an orgasm way better than the ones I've been giving myself. I hear myself gasping his name, almost like it's too much, like it's shockingly too much but I'll die if he stops now and thankfully he knows that because he so does not stop.

"I want you inside me," I plead, even as I'm coming, gasping for air, my eyes shut tight, giving me stars.

He leaves, standing up to take his underwear off. I watch him watching me, his eyes roving over me with a hunger that makes me tighten in anticipation. Taking a condom from a drawer, he gets back onto the bed, back to his rightful place between my legs because I'm sorry; now that he's been there he's not leaving. Ever.

"Yeah?" he asks, biting his lip and then leaning down and biting my nipple. It hurts a little, but in a way that coaxes pleasure and the need for more. He drags his lips to the other breast, licking and sucking until I'm wrapped around him, panting.

Edward pushes into me with a sharp thrust, and I would cry out but he's stolen my breath. Backing up a little, he establishes his rhythm, eyes meeting mine, connecting here while we connect down below, turning me inside out. I knew, from the second I laid eyes on him, before I even entertained this possibility on a conscious level, that he'd be like this: wild and dark and barely contained. He pulls the same from me, making me feel nearly feral with desire.

He stretches over me, all long, lean muscle, driving into me with force that will make sure I feel this tomorrow and maybe even longer. Maybe he feels me watching him, because he looks down, and his eyes soften and he slows down, and he rests on top of me, kissing me languidly, penetrating me so sweet. It carries me into something deeper, and I close my eyes against it, feeling and feeling and giving.

I hope he knows how much I'm giving.

Now he's moving on me just right. I tighten my grip, keeping him here, and start to crest right as he whispers that he's gonna come.

Please do, Edward. Please do.

xoxo