Bella

My heart pounds so loudly that it's all I can hear at this point. I don't even care that Mike could walk in any moment. Hell, maybe he'd finally leave me alone if he did walk in. If he saw me, lusting after my own damn stepfather, after my Edward. Daddy.

"This is gonna be hard, and quick, baby doll," Edward rasps, face inches from mine. His cologne overpowers me, the scent of that mixed in with just Edward is the best thing in the whole damn world. If I could, I'd bottle the exact replica of this smell.

"So you keep telling me," I bluff, playing with him. I love doing that. Because Edward responds so beautifully to my teasing. It makes him even better. I also enjoy the little teasing because it makes this entire thing less heavy to me. It makes me forget about my little heart and how it beats for daddy. How it only beats for him. In a way that I've never felt before. It's beyond scary.

"Shut up, already," he growls against my neck, nipping the skin there, making me gasp, my nails digging into the surface of the desk.

Edward wastes no time, his hands on my hips, pulling me closer to him. When our bodies meet, I melt. His skin is so hot and silky, his cock so hard, resting against my pubic bone as he wiggles even closer. I bite my lip, losing myself in his deep green eyes.

"Daddy," I sigh.

"Shh," he shushes me, caressing the side of my face lovingly before he drives inside me. It's deep and the force of his movements makes me clench my thighs around Edward's waist.

He grunts when he bottoms out and hits me deeply again, the look on his face a crossover between agony and ecstasy. I can't take my eyes off him, can't help myself but dig the nails of my left hand into the back of his neck as I fist the little hairs there. This feels too good to be true.

"God," I whimper. Edward picks up the speed, hard and punishing thrusts, his pelvic bone hitting me right where I need him to each and every time. I'm a hot, quivering mess, flirting with the edge, wanting to fall, to tumble into oblivion with Edward.

I could do this shit all day. But unfortunately, we're not that lucky.

"Fuck," he groans, biting my neck, hard. It makes me shriek and laugh right after that, but I wonder how I'm going to cover up this mess.

"Baby…" he continues. His eyes narrow, and I know he's close to coming undone.

I don't reply, lifting my hips more instead, moving in tune with Edward's erratic rhythm as I lean back on my elbows. I love hearing him fuck me. This is so much better than having to do this in utter silence, like last night in my room…Although it would be fun to do this on our own time; just me and Edward and a giant bed. No other people around, or able to barge in at any time. We could go on for hours and hours on end.

"Yes, yes…" I throw my head back, the heat of my orgasm creeping up on me, moving through my body all the way from the tips of my toes, up through my lungs, suffocating me with the fire, thumping through my veins until my heart feels like it's exploding.

"Goddamn."

"Finish, daddy. Paint me with your cum."

He bites his lip, eyes gazing into mine as they narrow into thin, little slits, his bottom lip blood red.

With a loud 'fuck', Edward's body shudders, his forehead a little sweaty, hands clammy as they caress a path from my upper thighs to my knees.

"You're such a good girl for daddy," he whispers against my lips. As he pulls away, I almost weep at the loss of contact. "That pussy of yours is surely gonna be the end of me," he chuckles. I feel my cheeks burn, and my body overheating even though the A/C is on.

"I love it when you say stuff like that," I admit. I clamp my thighs shut, but I still feel gravity doing its number on me. "And I love feeling your hot cum leak out of me, daddy."

The grin on Edward's face is pure mischief.

"Show me," he simply says, doing up his jeans. He never once takes his eyes off me, not even to buckle up his pants. The corners of his lips curl up, showing off his killer smile.

I open my legs for him, so unbothered by the fact that we're in Edward's office, that Mike could walk in any minute now, that I'm flashing my tender pussy to the man who makes my heart slam inside my chest.

"God, that's fucking perfect." Edward grins. He glances at the watch around his left wrist and sighs audibly.

"What is it?" I close my legs and get off the desk, my dress still hiked up around my hips.

"As much as I hate to say this to you…" he starts. "You should go get cleaned up, baby doll. Because it's quite obvious what you've been doing," he chuckles.

"Oh," I say, biting my lip. "I guess we should be a little more careful about throwing hints around, yeah." Edward is right. Although it's going to be insanely difficult to keep up appearances when he's literally within arm's reach.

"I'm sorry, I wish it could be different." He walks up to me, pressing one hot, gentle kiss onto my lips. I want to linger but we don't have time.

"Maybe one day," I mutter under my breath as I walk over to the bathroom.

I use the restroom and wash my hands, and when I finally look up in the mirror above the sink, I almost start laughing. So this is why Edward told me to get cleaned up. My mascara is smudged around my lower lash line, my lipstick barely there, but my neck? Damn, this is something else. I manage to tame my hair using my fingertips, but I call out to Edward, who brings my handbag to the bathroom for me.

"Told you," he smirks, fingers tracing the mess he made, the angry red mark on my neck. "Sorry, baby, I should've been more careful."

"I don't like careful," I retort.

"Well, then I hope you have some magic eraser-type shit in that giant bag of yours."

I snort at his words. Men…

"Mike's driving up… I'll tell him you weren't feeling well, okay? Take whatever time you need."

Then he's gone, leaving me to my own company as I rummage through the contents of my bag frantically.

Bingo. I smile, holding up my emergency makeup bag as if it's an Olympic gold medal before digging for the concealer. It's my winter color, but I'm sure I can make this work.

I walk out of the bathroom with my head held high, feeling thankful I always pack for any type of emergency.

"Hey, Bella, feeling better?" Mike asks. He's biting into a giant sandwich behind his desk, and I can smell fresh-brewed coffee in the air.

"Yeah, sorry… I have a sensitive stomach, must've had something weird to eat last night." I shrug and sit back down, putting my purse on the floor next to my bin.

"I get that, I'm lactose intolerant," he nods.

"True…when you give him an ice cream, it's like he's swallowed a watermelon," Edward says.

"I guess I'll have to pay attention to your coffee," I joke. "Would really suck if I added some cream into yours."

"Ha-ha, very funny." But his eyes twinkle anyway. He winks but it makes me want to throw my shoe at his face.

"Here." Edward hands me a wrapped sandwich.

"Oh, you got me lunch, too?" I smile.

"I got you lunch, sweetpea," Mike interjects. "Hope you like sausage," he smirks. "Because that's what you're getting."

Edward almost chokes on his pasta salad. He's gripping his wooden fork so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"I'm sure you don't have to worry about Bella's likes and dislikes, dude. Quit the awkward, pathetic attempts at flirting, alright?"

Mike eyes him curiously, chewing away.

Oh boy. I hope accepting a job here wasn't a mistake.