Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, but the plot is my own!
Chapter 12
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I found myself confused as we pulled into the parking lot of a set of brick condominiums instead of his sprawling mansion. My brows knit together as I shot him a wary glance.
"I have a condo here. It's closer," he stated matter-of-factly, shifting the car into park.
I arched a brow. "You're eager, huh?"
His smile was slow, knowing. "Earlier—you have no idea how amazing that was for me." His voice had dropped, rich and thick with intent. He reached for me then, fingertips grazing my jaw, his touch sending a familiar heat curling low in my stomach. "I need to have you. Fully. Privately. No interruptions."
A thrill shot through me at his words, at the barely restrained hunger in his eyes. I swallowed, pulse hammering as anticipation crackled between us like a live wire.
I smirked, feigning nonchalance, but my voice came out breathier than I intended. "Well, lead the way then."
The whole way up the stairs, my mind raced. What do I say? What do I do? How do I act like I've done this a hundred times when, in reality, I've barely scraped the surface? How do I make it seem effortless? Like I know exactly what I'm doing, exactly how to handle a man like Edward.
I could pretend. Confidence is just pretending until it's real, right? I had Damien's and Venus's advice rattling around in my head—tips, tricks, little insights that made me feel like I had some sort of game plan. Lean into what feels good. Don't overthink. Take control, just a little.
But as we reached the top of the stairs, Edward glanced back at me, his eyes dark, his expression one of longing, and suddenly, every ounce of strategy flew out the window.
Because the moment he touched me tonight—really touched me—I wasn't pretending anymore. I wasn't fumbling, second-guessing, or worrying about keeping up. I was just reacting—matching his energy, meeting him where he was, like my body already knew what to do.
And I feel like that kind of shocked him tonight.
Maybe he expected me to be hesitant. Maybe he thought he'd have to lead, that I'd be shy or unsure. But the second I let go of my nerves and leaned into the way he made me feel? I saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes—the way his breath hitched, the slight falter in his usually composed demeanor.
It was intoxicating.
All the power, all the control he usually carried himself with—it cracked, just a little, under me.
And that was when I realized—I don't have to fake anything.
We reached a large, mahogany-stained door, the condo number gleaming in polished silver: #27. It was tucked away at the very end of the hallway, only two other doors leading in the opposite direction.
Edward shoved his key into the lock and twisted the handle, pushing the door open with the ease of someone who spent more time here than anywhere else.
It was funny—despite the elegance he carried himself with, his condo had the lived-in feel of a man constantly juggling a million things at once. A sleek laptop sat open on the kitchen's bar-height counter, a stack of paperwork beside it, scattered but intentional. Post-it notes littered the stainless-steel fridge, reminders scribbled in a precise, slanted hand. Everything was clean, but just disheveled enough to betray how often he was here. A charcoal-gray coat hung over one of the bar chairs.
The space itself was modern—sleek white cabinets framing a mid-sized open-concept kitchen, the color scheme mostly black and gray, with splashes of deep red adding warmth. To the right, a lounge area featured a minimalist fireplace, casting flickering shadows along the exposed brick walls. Along with a bookshelf that took up half the wall. To the left, the living room stretched out, dominated by a sprawling, sectional black couch that looked as expensive as it was inviting. A white cozy blanket in a bundle atop a section of it. A massive flat-screen was mounted to the opposite wall, the whole setup effortless in its quiet luxury.
And then there were the paintings.
Edward stepped toward the kitchen, the jingle of his keys filling the quiet as he tossed them onto the counter.
I let my gaze wander around the space, muttering to myself, So this must be his actual home.
"I'm way more comfortable here," he said, glancing at me. "The mansion is kinda like a family trust. I stay in it from time to time, but not often."
I nodded quickly, understanding—this place was where he actually lived.
Drifting past the living room, I stopped near the hallway, drawn to a striking abstract piece. Sharp lines and muted tones clashed in a way that demanded attention. There was intention in the chaos. My eyes flicked over another—a Renaissance-era portrait in pristine condition, its frame impossibly intricate. Everything here meant something, whether as an investment or something Edward simply couldn't part with.
"You can look," he teased, watching me. "But don't ask me to sell you anything."
I smirked, trailing my fingers lightly over the carved edge of a gilded frame. "I was just trying to figure out if this is a home or a gallery."
He opened a cabinet, pulling out a glass. "A little of both." He filled it with water and turned back, watching me. "You want one?"
I nodded absently, still caught up in the subtle details—the art, the books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table, the faint scent of something warm and expensive lingering in the air. This was a man who surrounded himself with value, with meaning. And now, I was standing in the middle of it.
I met him in the kitchen.
As I took the glass from him, I noticed how his gaze lingered, that look of quiet admiration in his eyes. It wasn't the kind of gaze you'd give someone after a casual date—it was heavier, loaded with everything we'd just experienced. I felt the heat of it on my skin as I sipped, trying to ground myself in the moment.
Edward's lips quirked, a half smile forming on his handsome face. Damn handsome didn't even do him justice—his strong jawline, green eyes, tousled hair. It seemed effortless for him.
"I didn't expect any of that tonight," he admitted. The memory of what we did earlier still clearly on his mind. "But, I guess I helped bring it out?" He gave me a teasing look, one eyebrow lifted.
I set my glass down, then crossed my arms, a playful smirk forming as I looked at him. "You think you had that much influence?"
Damn straight he did.
His smirk deepened. "Oh, I think I did. You definitely didn't seem like the type before." He took a step closer, his voice lowering just a little. "But then again, you haven't even shown me everything yet." His expression softened a bit, a hint of curiosity and something deeper, something more intense, flickering in his eyes.
I swallowed, feeling a little warmer than I probably should. "I guess I just never knew how to let go in that way before. You make it... easy."
He stepped closer, now standing just a few inches away. His voice was low and intimate, a smile playing on his lips. "I like hearing that." He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing softly against my skin.
I could feel the air thickening between us, like something inevitable was about to happen. I could feel the pull toward him—the way he was drawing me in without a single word. We came here specifically, with intention.
Before I knew it, he was taking my hand gently but firmly, guiding me with a steady calmness toward his bedroom.
The door creaked slightly as it opened, revealing a space that was calm, intimate. Soft, dim lighting from the bedside lamps cast long shadows across the room, and I could hear the faint hum of the city in the distance. His bed was large, the dark linens a sharp contrast to the soft cream walls. A few scattered books rested on the nightstand, alongside a glass of water. It was simple, yet comforting, like an extension of who he was—quiet, inviting, with just enough mystery to make you want to stay.
Edward crouched down in front of me, his hands gentle but firm as he unstrapped my heels. Each click of the buckle felt like a weight lifting off my shoulders, but the relief I felt in my feet was instant—a soft, grateful sigh escaping my lips. The pain that had been dulling my every step all evening melted away, and I couldn't help but stretch my toes, feeling the cool air against my skin.
His fingers worked with slow precision, easing the straps from my feet as if savoring the moment. My legs ached, and I silently thanked him for the gesture, watching him as he moved with quiet intent. When he finally helped me step out of the heels, he guided my foot to his lap, his strong hands now massaging my sore soles.
I let out another soft exhale as his thumbs worked deep into the arches of my feet, applying just the right amount of pressure. The sensation sent a wave of warmth up my legs, relaxing me in a way I hadn't realized I needed. His hands slid up slowly, massaging my calves and the backs of my legs, his touch tender yet electric.
I stood there, slightly swaying, feeling his fingers trace the curve of my calf. When he finally stood, his lips brushed against my skin—kissing along my stomach, up the side of my ribs, and then to the soft curve of my neck. Each kiss was deliberate, building something between us that I couldn't ignore.
His hands rested on either side of my face as he leaned in, his breath warm against my lips. He hovered there, his eyes filled with passion, his expression both gentle and intense.
"I want you right now," he murmured, his voice low, a quiet hunger that sent a shiver down my spine.
The words lingered in the air, letting it sink in. My breath caught, heat flooding through me as the ache from the evening turned into something else entirely.
The moment stretched, hanging between us. My heart raced, and I couldn't look away. "Edward..." I whispered, my voice a question, an invitation—whatever it was, it was clear.
And then, he kissed me.
At first, it was slow—tentative, almost like we were both testing the waters. His lips brushed against mine with a softness that made my breath catch, as if he was savoring the moment. His fingers cupped my face gently, tracing the line of my jaw before slipping into my hair, fingers tangling in my curls.
The kiss became more urgent, hungry. His tongue tangled with mine, claiming my mouth with a fervor that sent a rush straight to my core. Each movement, measure but full of intent. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes half lidded, desire evident.
"Get on your knees," he growled, his voice thick with authority.
I grinned, a playful spark in my eyes. "Yes, master," I teased, the words slipping out before I could think twice. I dropped to my knees before him, the cool floor beneath me a stark contrast to the heat rising between us.
He stood tall, towering over me as I knelt. Edward smirked, clearly savoring the shift in power—for now.
"You're so good," he praised, his hand stroking my hair, tender yet possessive. "You look so pretty on your knees for me." His fingers drifted down to cup my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made my breath catch.
My thighs ached, but the pull between us only deepened. "You wanna see how good I am?" I asked, my voice low and teasing as I stroked the hard outline of his bulge through his dress pants.
The memory of advice I'd received flickered in the back of my mind, but this felt different—more personal, more consuming.
Edward's breath hitched, his eyes never leaving mine. He nodded, his voice hoarse with need. "Show me."
I slowly unbuckled his belt, my fingers deliberate as I worked the leather free. Deciding to turn his words back on him, I tilted my head coyly. "Do you think you're deserving?" I asked, my tone sweet but laced with challenge.
"You're being such a tease," he chuckled, though the sound of his zipper cutting through the air brought him back to that serious, passionate place. "I've created a monster."
His cock twitched, already straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He let out a low growl, his voice laced with mock innocence. "I've been a good boy," he said, his lips curving into a smirk. "I hope I deserve a reward, please?"
"Mm," I hummed, my hands drifting away from him to pull the hem of my dress. Freeing my breasts, my fingers tracing lazy circles over my skin as I teased him. "You gonna show me you deserve that reward?"
His eyes locked onto my hands, his fists clenched at his sides as he watched me touch myself. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with barely restrained desire.
"Fuck yes," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Anything you want."
My hands drifted lower, brushing over my sensitive nipples with agonizing slowness. "I love teasing you," I moaned, leaning back to give him a better view. My fingers began to work my pussy, slow and deliberate, wanting him to watch, to ache.
He watched with a mixture of awe and hunger, his eyes drinking in every movement. His cock strained painfully against the fabric of his trousers, and I could see the effort it took for him to stay still.
"You're driving me crazy," he groaned, his hands raking through his hair in frustration.
"I didn't realize how fun this could be," I murmured, my fingers slipping up to my mouth. I sucked them clean, leaving a sheen of saliva before settling them back on my mound, my touch light and teasing.
A low growl rumbled from Edward's chest, his mouth parting as he struggled to control himself. His body trembled with restraint, his hands fumbling to finish dropping his pants. His cock sprang free, and I could feel myself growing wetter as his hand wrapped around it, giving it slow, generous strokes.
He placed a hand on my head, holding me in place as he bit his lip, his eyes burning into mine. "Fuck, where have you been all my life?"
I didn't answer with words. Instead, I parted my lips, my tongue stroking my bottom lip in silent invitation.
"You're so naughty," he sighed, his voice rough with desire.
"You make it easy for me," I said honestly, my gaze never leaving his.
He gripped the base of his cock, bringing it to my mouth and rubbing the tip against my lips. He looked so dominant, so effortlessly sexy, with that smirk playing on his lips as he admired me on my knees before him. But I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I stopped his movements, pulling back just enough to tease him. My tongue dragged slowly from the base of his shaft to the tip, my eyes locked on his as I did it, daring him to take control.
He groaned, a mix of frustration and amusement in the sound. His hand tightened in my hair, trying to hold me still, but I was determined to play with him a little longer. His patience was wearing thin, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened as they pleaded with me.
"I said please," he muttered, his voice low and rough.
"Mm, I like keeping you on your toes," I replied huskily, my tongue flicking over the head of his cock, lapping up the bead of pre-cum that had formed there.
His grip on my hair tightened, and he tugged me forward, trying to force me to take him into my mouth. But I stopped him again, pulling away to press a soft kiss to his balls instead. His hips jerked forward, a low moan escaping him as I massaged him with my tongue. He let go of my hair, leaning back against the door for support, one hand gripping the doorframe as he cursed under his breath.
His reaction only spurred me on. I nipped and licked at his trembling thighs, my hands stroking his length as I worked him over. His eyes were dark, glazed as he watched me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Oh god, I can't take this much longer," he groaned, his voice strained.
"You're so big," I sighed, ignoring his pleas with a sly smirk. I continued to stroke him, my lips wrapping around the tip of his cock as I swirled my tongue in lazy circles. His hips bucked, trying to push deeper, but I held him back, savoring the control. His hand tangled in my hair again, and this time, he didn't hold back. He began to thrust gently but urgently, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth.
"That sexy mouth," he muttered, his voice thick with need.
I halted his movements once more, pulling away to lavish attention on his balls. I sucked them into my mouth, my hands pumping his length as I worked him over. He groaned louder, his breath hitching, his body trembling with pleasure. His composure was slipping, and I could see it in the way his muscles tensed, the way his voice broke when he spoke.
"Please... I can't handle this," he begged, his voice shaky and desperate.
I smiled up at him, my lips brushing against his cock as I spoke. "I can't wait for you to fuck my mouth. I just want to hear you beg me a little more."
He gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes burning into mine. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue, but then he swallowed hard and gave in. "Please, Leah, please let me. I'll do anything," he pleaded, his voice trembling with need.
"You need my mouth on you?" I teased, my tongue dragging slowly from the base of his shaft to the tip.
He nodded vigorously, desperation written all over his face. "I need it so badly. Please, I want you to gag on it, baby. Make me cum—I'm fucking begging, Leah."
"Say it again," I gasped, my hands sliding down his thighs as I took him to the hilt, deep into my throat.
His cock pulsed, and his fingers dug into my scalp as he obliged, his voice strained and panting. "I need that pretty fucking mouth, Leah."
He didn't waste a second once he realized I'd let him. His hips began to move, thrusting in and out, the pace quickening almost immediately. He held my head steady, his grip firm but not painful, as he fucked my face with a rhythm that was hard and fast. His head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. I gagged lightly, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to my core, making my pussy clench in response.
"Taking me so deep," he groaned, his voice tight with restraint.
I pulled back, forcing him out, his cock twitching as I smacked it against my tongue. He was soaked—my spit mixed with his pre-cum, the taste of him heady and intoxicating. I was a mess, tears streaming down my face, my skin burning with heat, but I didn't stop. I slapped him against my tongue again, the sloppy, wet sounds driving him wild. His hand reached down, grasping my chin, his other hand guiding himself in and out of my mouth.
"Fuck, you look so sexy, making a mess of yourself," he grunted, his voice rough with desire.
At some point, he held my face to his pelvis, my gag reflex kicking in as his balls hit my chin. He seemed almost surprised that I could keep up, his breath hitching as he watched me.
"You're gonna make me cum," he warned, his voice trembling.
I gripped him with both hands, stroking his shaft in quick, urgent pulses while my mouth lavished attention on the head of his cock. He was close, his body tensing, his fingers tightening in my hair as he yanked me away. He grabbed himself, jerking off with quick, desperate strokes. I couldn't help the moan that escaped me, my breath coming in ragged pants, tears still streaming down my face.
"Open wide. I'm gonna cover that tongue and those beautiful tits with my cum," he groaned, his voice rough and strained as he reached his peak. With a final curse, he released, his hot seed splattering across my tongue and dripping down my chin and breasts. My mouth stayed wide open, tongue out, as I took everything he gave me.
I'd never been a fan of the taste of semen—not since an awkward experience in high school—but something about this moment was different. Maybe it was the way he looked at me as he came, his eyes dark and possessive, or maybe it was the fact that his didn't taste bad at all. To my surprise, I fucking loved it. I wiped the cum off my chin and breasts with my fingers, watching him intently as I brought them to my mouth, cleaning myself up with a deliberate slowness that made his breath hitch.
Edward's eyes traced every movement, savoring every detail. His jaw slack, his chest rising and falling rapidly, he looked utterly lost in the moment, unable to tear his gaze away.
Again, I marveled at how this man seemed to pull something out of me I didn't even know was there. Or maybe he just knew exactly how to bring it out. Either way, I became a whole different person with him—a freak, in the best possible way. Especially after all the teasing that had led up to this.
"Go sit on the bed," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "And wait."
I obeyed, settling onto the edge of the bed, my body still humming with anticipation. He walked over to the sliding closet and pulled out a silk scarf, returning to me with a determined look in his eyes. He approached me slowly, his movements deliberate, and gently took my wrists, binding them together behind my back. He made sure the knots were tight enough to hold but not so tight that they'd hurt.
"These will stay out of my way," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "And if you move them, I'll tie your ankles too. Understood?"
I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "If I move my hands, or if I get out of the restraints?" I asked with a playful smile.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "If you move your hands, I'll restrain your ankles," he clarified, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he asked, "Do you think you can stay quiet?"
I stared at him, my lips curving into a defiant smirk. "No," I huffed, my voice dripping with challenge.
He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. Without another word, he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a gag—a red ball attached to leather straps. My throat went dry as I swallowed hard.
"Think I can't make noise with that on?" I asked, my voice tinged with defiance.
He smirked, twirling the gag between his fingers as he studied me. "Oh, sweetheart, I have no doubt you'll still try. But trust me, it'll be a hell of a lot cuter when it's muffled."
I rolled my eyes, stretching my fingers just to test the tightness of the silk binding my wrists. "You're enjoying this way too much," I teased.
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Who, me? I'm just making sure you don't get any wild ideas about teasing me again."
I raised a brow, lifting my bound hands just enough to let them fall against the bed dramatically. "Oh, please. You seemed to love it."
Edward chuckled, leaning in until his mouth was just above mine. "You're not wrong," he admitted, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "But what happens when you push me? I've gotta bite back."
I swallowed, my pulse kicking up as he ran the cool leather straps of the gag over my bottom lip. I opened my mouth to reply, but he shook his head, clicking his tongue.
"Ah, ah. Too late for that, baby," he murmured, his eyes dark with intent. "You just had to tease me, didn't you?"
I grinned despite myself, my heart racing. "Maybe I like seeing what you'll do about it."
His eyes were heated, focused, his smirk sharpening as he leaned in closer. "I'll gladly show you."
Before I could come up with another retort, he slipped the gag into place, securing it behind my head with a satisfied hum. The red ball pressed against my tongue, muffling any attempt at speech, and I couldn't help but laugh—or try to, at least. The sound came out as a muffled giggle, and Edward's smirk only widened.
"Good," he murmured, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he admired his handiwork. "Now, let's see how much noise you can really make."
His gaze raked over me as he took a slow, deliberate step back, circling the bed like a predator toying with its prey. My breath hitched as his eyes traced the curves of my body, the intensity in them making my stomach tighten almost painfully. He wasn't just looking at me—he was consuming me with his gaze, burning every inch of me into his memory.
I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching instinctively, but the silk bindings kept me helplessly in place. A frustrated whimper escaped my lips as I shifted, seeking any sort of relief, but there was none. The restraint only amplified the ache between my thighs, made me hyperaware of just how exposed I was. Every nerve in my body bristled, my skin tingling beneath the heat of his stare.
A low, desperate moan escaped me as I writhed against the mattress, my body betraying me. I needed him—his touch, his weight pressing me down, something to soothe the unbearable tension coiling inside me. But he just smirked, his beautifully sculpted body on full display, the play of light casting subtle shadows over his toned muscles.
His pale skin was almost ethereal against the dim lighting, but it was his eyes that held me captive—those piercing green irises locked onto me with a hunger that made my breath shudder.
"Patience," he said, his voice rich with amusement, though there was an edge to it, like he was barely containing himself.
I whimpered again, shifting uselessly against the binds, my thighs pressed together in desperate search of friction. He exhaled sharply through his nose, pleased, and I thought for a moment he'd finally give in. But instead, he moved to sit behind me, his strong hands finding my hips and pulling me back against him.
"You look so vulnerable like this," he whispered against my ear, his breath cool on my feverish skin. "Completely at my mercy."
I was about ready to cum again. His voice sent waves of release through my body, my nerves firing wildly.
"You're so sensitive," he murmured, his hands roaming over my thighs, delicately pushing them open. "You're going to come for me, aren't you? Even without me touching you?"
I nodded, a moan slipping past my lips.
His lips brushed against the back of my neck, moving my curtain of hair out of the way. His featherlight kisses lingered there, sending shivers down my spine. "I love how responsive you are."
Goosebumps broke across my flesh, his lips feeling heavenly against my skin. My moans grew louder, more desperate. I wanted to be his—completely, shamelessly his.
I couldn't even believe myself at the moment. I could see why this man turned women's lives upside down.
He continued to nibble and kiss my neck, his hands now massaging my inner thighs. I trembled under his touch, teetering on the edge of release.
"Cum all over my bed, Leah," he commanded, his voice low and sultry.
I tensed, my thighs falling open wider, aching for his touch. I was desperate to feel him there, to have his hands on my cunt. He chuckled, the sound dark and amused.
"Such a greedy woman," he said, his fingers tracing the edges of my inner thighs, deliberately avoiding where I needed him most. "But I think you can wait for me to touch you there… just a little longer."
I trembled again, shooting him a heated glare. He had me completely undone, and he knew it. His laughter only fueled my frustration, my desperation.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," he teased, still avoiding my pussy.
If I closed my eyes and moved my hips just right, I could almost imagine the pressure against my sensitive nub, making my breath hitch. My pulse pounded, my breathing turning erratic as the teasing dragged on, winding me tighter and tighter.
Then, suddenly—contact.
One of Edward's fingers ghosted past my lips. A jolt of pleasure shot through me like a spark to dry tinder, sharp and overwhelming. My body tensed, ragged breaths ripping from my lips as the rush of sensation crashed over me, leaving me trembling and completely undone. I shocked myself with how quickly I came apart.
"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice low and sultry. "Let go."
Edward's hands were all I could feel, his touch both grounding and electrifying.
Shortly after, I was catching my breath, my mouth growing sore from the gag. Edward noticed my discomfort immediately and gently removed it, tossing it aside. He ran his fingers through my hair, soothing me as I came down from my high.
"You've shocked me, Miss Clearwater," he said with a dark chuckle. He untied my wrists and laid back against the bed, a satisfied grin on his face. Watching me intently, he patted his thighs. His erection, fully displayed, looked intimidating now—hard as a rock.
"Come here," he whispered.
I bit my lip, considering his request. Instead of straddling him, I moved to the end of the bed, positioning myself on my hands and knees, facing the wall. I sighed as I spread myself wide for him, offering him a view of my most sensitive parts.
I leaned forward, pressing my chest firmly against the mattress, and turned my head to meet his gaze. His smile was wicked, his eyes dark with desire.
"I'll take that too, whatever you want," he said, his voice a low purr. He crossed his arms, waiting for me to start.
I began to slide my fingers up my slit, gasping at the sensation. He watches me play with myself, his gaze sharp, his lips parted. His breath deepening as he stroked himself. Pulling at his flesh with that greedy look in his eyes.
"That's right, let me see how you pleasure yourself. Don't hold back those sounds either," Speaking almost mutely, his words barely formed as they escaped his lips, thick with intensity. Each syllable was laced with a raw, desperate passion, like he was trying to keep control, but the fire inside him made it nearly impossible to speak without it breaking through.
I yelped as I pushed a single digit into myself. Using my other hand to pinch and rub my clit.
He continued touching himself, viewing me as I whimpered. He looked amused. "You're already soaked. I can tell. Are you thinking about me while you do that?"
It was as though the words were meant to be felt more than heard, each one brushing against my skin, charged with an energy that left no room for doubt about the depth of his longing.
My finger slipped out to suck on it, swirling my tongue and reveling in the taste before plunging back into my slick entrance. Gasping, "Edward," staring at him with my eyes half closed as I did so.
He growled, his eyes darkening with lust at the sound of his name escaping my lips. He leaned forward sharply landing a palm on my ass. Looking straight at my hands between my legs.
"You want me to touch you?"
"Edward, yes, please," I begged.
He moved closer, over me, his chest pressing against my back, placing his hands on my hips, holding me firmly in place. He began to guide my hips to move in circles, creating more friction against my finger.
"Please what?"
"Please...use me, Master," I moaned. My fingers quickening their pace. We could both audibly hear how wet I was at this point.
He groaned, his grip tightening as he held me still for a moment. "Such a good girl, begging me to use you. But, first I wanna watch you cum. Make yourself cum."
I slipped another finger into my hot entrance. Struggling to speak, I began moaning wildly. My lower body flooding, making a mess on my hands.
I felt Edward grip my hair, tugging me back, making me arch my back further. "You're making a mess again, just like you should."
My eyes rolled back, succumbing to the orgasm that hit my body hard. He chuckled, sounding pleased. He leaned over me to give me a little love bite on my shoulder. My hands dropping to my sides. I felt his palm swat my ass.
He also bit my ass cheek lightly too, garnering a yelp from me, and a giggle.
"Told you the teasing would get you bit on the ass," he said coyly.
He continued to spank me, each impact harder than the last. He relished in the sound of my moans and the way my body jolted with each impact.
"You love this shit, huh?" he asked, his hand rubbing over the sore skin. Kissing it with his soft plump lips.
"I could probably cum just like this," I groaned as his palm struck my ass again.
Edward paused for a moment. He chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me. "Is that so? I think we should test that theory."
"Do it," I groaned, trying to challenge him, but failing as I began shouting out when he offered another hard slap. My pussy trembled and clenched as his warm hands smoothed over the sting again. He continued to spank me with precision and force. Still taking time to gently caress afterwards. He watched as I shook with each slap. My pussy getting wetter and wetter.
"Let's see if I even have to do that much to get you to cum, again."
I could feel the heat from his hand hovering over my mound. Our eyes met, his gaze softening as he slowly lowered his hand to my pussy. Gently stroking my clit before giving it a firm slap, watching me closely.
My head shot back as I bit back a thunderous moan.
When my eyes settled back on him I could see that smug smirk. Loving the way I was absolutely falling apart under his touch. He continued to spank my pussy, each slap getting a little harder than the last.
"My goodness," his voice low.
I was spiraling, completely over stimulated as I panted and moaned. My release imminent. My body trembled uncontrollably. He didn't relent, his hand moving faster and harder against my pussy.
"Cum for me, Leah," his voice firmer.
It was earth shattering. Edward watched in awe as I came undone, my body convulsing and shaking as I soaked the sheets. He slowly stopped spanking me, his hand now gently rubbing me to help me ride out my orgasm.
I collapsed on the bed, laying on my back, breathing heavily. Edward laid beside me, he captured my lips in a soft kiss, his hands roaming over my body with tenderness. Breaking the kiss to gaze into my eyes.
I couldn't help but smile.
Edward mirrored my expression, his fingers trailing gently over my skin. Kissing his way down my neck, his lips moving lower to my collarbone, then my chest. He took his time, savoring the feel of my soft skin against his mouth, and the sound of my soft gasps and moans. My hands began to caress his upper body.
He continued to kiss his way down mine, pausing to pay special attention to my breasts. He licks and swirled on my hardened nubs. His hands roaming over my hips and thighs, spreading my legs gently apart as he moved lower still.
The primal part of me stirred with need as he placed gentle kisses around my belly button, moving lower still until he was face to face with my glistening wet folds. He looked up at me with those beautiful eyes, desire evident, before lowering his head and licking a long, slow stripe up my slit.
My head flew back as I gripped the sheets above me. Gasping at finally feeling his mouth on my cunt.
I heard and felt Edward groan against me, my arousal spiking. My senses on full overload.
He gripped my thighs, spreading them wider as he began to devour my cunt with slow, deliberate licks and sucks. He teased my clit generously with his tongue, then lapped up my essence. Making soft slurping sounds as he ate me out like a starving man. Indulged like I was a feast.
My moans only grew as he slipped a finger into me. And he added a second finger to my tight, wet pussy, his tongue never stopping its ministrations on my clit. He curled his fingers, searching for that spongy spot inside me that caused me shout out. He sucked on my clit, his fingers thrusting in and out at a steady pace, feeling my inner walls fluttering around him.
My hands covered my face, stopping myself from shouting out. Then I gave up, quickly dissolving into full heat. Arching my back, my breath shattering completely. Spiraling into pleasure. I let out a disgruntled moan, sitting up slightly on my elbows to stare down at him as he devoured me.
I caught the grin on his face, enjoying the way I was reacting. He chuckled, setting my body ablaze again, the vibrations sending shivers through my body.
He resumed his previous pace, his fingers knuckle deep into my g-spot while his tongue swirled and flicked against my sensitive nub. His mouth only stopping for a moment, "I want to hear every moan, every gasp, everything you try to hold back." He added a third finger to my tight channel, stretching me open even more.
My head fell back again. My mouth agape. All sorts of impassioned noises escaping me. Getting ready for the crash of release to hit me like a semi truck. He sucked my clit into his mouth, creating a powerful suction that pushed me off the cliff without warning.
My hand reached down to grasp his hair. Crashing my hips against his face. Him being ever so greedy, hummed happily. Sending vibrations through my sensitive flesh, prolonging my orgasm as much as possible, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until I was a trembling, gasping mess on the bed.
He looked up at me with hungry eyes, seeing the way my chest heaved and my body shook. He slowly removed his fingers from my entrance, crawling up my body until he hovered over me. Pressing a gentle kiss to my lips, letting me taste myself.
He whispered in my ear, "are you okay?"
"More than okay," I said softly, my hands stroking his jawline.
He let out a shuddering breath. His self control looked to be hanging by a thread, the way he looks at me will be my undoing. He captured my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, pouring all of his pent-up desire and care into it. He positioned himself at my entrance, his hard, throbbing cock nudging against my slick folds.
My thighs ached, but in the best way. The way he stared at me took my breath away as he slowly began to push into me, his cock stretching my tight pussy inch by inch. He moaned aloud, making my skin prickle. My wet heat enveloped him so nicely, his hands gripped my hips tightly, tense from probably keeping himself from slamming into me.
I trailed sloppy kissed and tastes along his neck. He shuddered against me, his control slipping further with each kiss and hum. He finally bottomed out inside me, his balls pressed against my ass, and let out a low groan. He paused for a moment, savoring this feeling. Until he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before slowly sliding back in, his movements deep and deliberate.
"Yes," I moaned.
Edward's hips began to snap forward with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the wet, sloppy sounds of his cock sliding in and out of me. He stared at me, a blissed-out expression on his face. I felt myself contracting around him, humming pleasured rasps. He shifted his hips slightly, searching for that perfect angle with each thrust.
To describe it the best way I can. It's like a sudden spark in the dark—unexpected but electrifying. One second, it's just pleasure, warmth, pressure, and then—oh?
My breath caught in my throat. My whole body tensing, reacting before I can even process it. It's deep, sharp, and impossibly good, like a wire connecting straight to my core. My legs were shaking as I became acutely aware of him—the way his body moved, the warmth and weight of his hands, the rhythm that now felt like the only thing that mattered.
Sounds escaped me, completely unfiltered, and needy. My hips tilted, chasing the feeling because, fuck, if he keeps doing that—
And then he does. Barreling down on me, again. On purpose.
That's when the real unraveling begins.
He redoubled his efforts, pounding into me with abandon, his cock hitting my pleasure point with deadly accuracy. He reached between our bodies, rubbing my clit in tight circles.
"Cum on that dick, Leah," he mumbled with a groan. "Let me give you the release you need."
Control slipped like silk through my fingers. He was all consuming. I felt his weight shift, his other hand gripping my breast, his tongue forming slick tight circles around my nipple. My hands started to grip whatever I could—his hair, his back, the sheets. Every nerve felt alight, hypersensitive, desperate for more, but also overwhelmed by just how much there already is.
My breath stuttered, uneven, sharp gasps mixed with whimpers I didn't intend to make. My mind blanks in waves, thoughts dissolving until all that exists is sensation, pressure, heat.
And him.
He knows. He can feel it in the way I gripped him, hear it in the way my voice was breaking, see it in my reactions. He holds me there, teetering, pushing me right to the edge until my body tightens like a bowstring, ready to snap.
And then it happens.
A slow build suddenly crashes into an all-consuming wave, white-hot and uncontrollable, shaking through me with an intensity that leaves me breathless. My muscles seize, pleasure ricocheting through every nerve, and for those few endless seconds, I exist in nothing but pure, raw euphoria.
His release comes shortly after mine, pulling himself from me with a sharp hiss. His fingers slip away, slick from how soaked his cock is from me. His warmth spills onto my flushed skin, just below my belly button. He cleans it off with tissue paper from the nightstand, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment.
For a long while, there's nothing but the sound of our heavy breathing and the soft rustling of sheets around us. I lie beside him, his arm draped over me, pulling me closer. The heat between us still hums, though it's now a gentle, comforting thrum in my chest. His fingers idly trace circles on my skin, a tender touch that somehow calms the storm inside me.
I feel his gaze on me, even with my eyes closed, and it's as if he's silently pulling me deeper.
Then, his voice cuts through the silence, steady but laced with something that makes my heart stutter.
"I want us to be together, for real," he says.
And just like that, it hits me.
Commitment. That confounding, suffocating thing that feels like a weight pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe. The very idea of it is like a barrier, a wall I can't see past, no matter how much I want to.
"Edward," I start, my throat tightening as I struggle to find the right words. My mind races, torn between the warmth of his touch and the cold, creeping fear that grips me whenever I think about letting someone in—really in.
His fingers still against my skin, and I can feel the shift in him, the way his body tenses ever so slightly. He's waiting, patient but expectant, and I know I can't avoid this forever.
I looked at him—at those deep, beautiful eyes that seemed to see right through me, at the subtle tension in his jaw, waiting for the rejection he surely expected. He had no idea what he was really asking for. What I came with.
Suddenly, I shot up, like my ass was on fire. Edward jolted up as well, concern flashing across his face. He knew, probably better than anyone, that I was about to pull away. I could see the hesitation in his eyes, like he had laid it on too thick.
"Where's the bathroom?" I asked, trying to shift the focus, anything to get out of this moment.
He shifted awkwardly. "Door at the end of the hall," he said softly, his tone low, like he didn't want to push me any further.
I nodded, trying to mask the panic rising in me. I moved quickly, my hand covering my mouth as I stepped past the threshold of the bedroom and softly shut the door behind me.
I took a breath, trying to steady myself, but the weight of everything—the rush of feeling so much, and the sudden fear of commitment—was swallowing me whole. I turned to the left and walked into the sleek black bathroom. The light flicked on, but the brightness didn't seem to help the suffocating feeling in my chest. I sat on the toilet, but I wasn't focused on that. I was trapped inside my own thoughts, my anxiety clawing at me. I had to put a pause on this. The idea of letting someone in, of being someone's, was something I wasn't sure I could handle right now—not with everything else.
I cleaned myself up slowly, my mind racing. Finally, I grabbed a soft, dark grey robe hanging on the back of the door, slipping it on. It was oversized, definitely Edward's, and it smelled like him—a rich, musky scent that made me feel dizzy, like I was drowning in it.
I took a deep breath before heading back to the bedroom. He was standing by the bed now, pulling on some sweats, watching me carefully. His expression was full of that quiet intensity, like he wasn't sure what to expect.
"You look beautiful in my robe," he said, the words laced with that sultry smile that made my chest tighten.
I nodded, trying to fight the smirk that was threatening to escape.
"I…" he began, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to be so forward all the time."
His words hit me in the chest, like a reminder of everything I was trying to keep under control. But I couldn't let him think he was the problem. It was me. Always me.
"I…" My voice faltered. I needed to speak, to explain the mess inside of me, even if I didn't fully understand it myself.
"My mom… she just passed a few months ago," I reminded him, the words coming out hollow, heavier than I meant them to be. My fingers curled into my knees, grounding myself in the moment. "I don't know if I can fully give you what you want. Not because I don't want to, I just don't know if I can right now."
The air in the room seemed to shrink around me as soon as I said it. The weight of that grief, the guilt, the suffocating loss that I hadn't really allowed myself to feel, hung between us like a wall. It felt like it was swallowing me whole. I wanted him. God, I wanted him so badly. But how could I drag him into this—into all of me—when I was still broken? When I was barely holding it together?
He'd told me on the first real date about wife material.
I wasn't ready.
I could feel it in my bones.
"I need to get a fucking grip," I muttered, almost to myself.
My pulse thundered in my ears, my hands clenched into fists. This isn't going to work. It had been great, but how could I keep going like this? I had too much baggage to bring anyone else into it. To bring him into it.
I couldn't even bring myself to tell him the rest—the part that still haunted me every night. The way I still woke up sometimes hearing Seth's screams echoing in my mind. The memory of his shaking hands, his tear-streaked face, how he'd looked at me like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. How I'd stood frozen in that doorway, unable to move, unable to comprehend the horror of it all—the smell of it—God, the smell still burned itself into my brain.
I couldn't put that on Edward. I wouldn't.
"I'm barely keeping myself together," I said, shaking my head, feeling my voice crack. "I can't be what you need. Hell, I can't even be what I need half the time."
Edward didn't flinch. Didn't look away. His gaze remained steady, unwavering. He let my words settle between us, thick and heavy like dust in the air.
"Leah," he said, his voice low and careful, like he was afraid I'd bolt. "I don't expect you to be anything but yourself."
I scoffed, the sound dry and humorless. "You say that now."
"I mean it," he said firmly, without hesitation.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to still the storm inside me, trying to stop the chaos of my thoughts. But I couldn't. Not with him looking at me like I was worth figuring out, like maybe I wasn't as broken as I felt.
"This feels like a fucking fever dream," I whispered.
His gaze softened as he thought for a moment, then he spoke again, his voice a little lighter. "Y'know," he said, placing his hands on the waistband of his sweats, his body language so damn easy, "Jasper had mentioned there would be a new recruit, and he had this feeling I'd take the bait." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes intense as he made sure I was paying attention. "I tried so hard that first time, to not be so eager, to restrain myself. But I'm willing to prove to you that you're what I want."
His words hit me harder than I expected. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel a flutter in my stomach. He wanted me. Really wanted me.
I couldn't speak right away.
He pursed his lips, noticing my hesitation, his expression a mixture of patience and quiet need. "You want me to make you something?" he asked, his voice low, but still full of that same quiet intensity.
"You got regular PB&J?" I asked with a small puff of breath, more than ready to shift the conversation.
His grin was easy, effortless. "Yeah, I got you," he said, walking past me toward the kitchen.
I followed him, feeling the heat of his presence even as he moved ahead. His eyes—dark, piercing—could cut through me if they were knives. He made everything look good, even something as simple as reaching into a cabinet. His strong arms stretched upward as he grabbed a jar of Jiffy, then moved to the fridge for the bread and jam.
I leaned against the cool counter, listening to the hum of the overhead lights as I watched him. The act was simple. Domestic, even. But there was something about him—the effortless way he carried himself, the sharp focus in his every movement. The fact that he was still shirtless only amplified the effect.
He made two sandwiches, handing me one before standing beside me. We ate in comfortable silence, the moment stretching, settling. He felt closer now, physically and otherwise.
By the time I took my last bite, my fingers moved on their own, reaching up to stroke the sharp line of his jaw. He wasn't going to let this go easily. That much was clear.
The city lights spilled through the tall windows, streaking gold across Edward's sleek wooden floors. I curled up on the edge of his couch, my knee bouncing restlessly. Still in the kitchen, Edward leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me like he was waiting for me to stop running—not physically, but emotionally.
"You're avoiding this conversation," he finally said, his voice calm, steady.
I let out a sharp breath, rubbing my hands over my thighs. "Not avoiding. Just… postponing."
His brow arched. "Postponing what?"
I hesitated, the words thick in my throat. "This. Us. Whatever we are—whatever you want us to be." I met his gaze, struggling to piece my thoughts together. "Edward, my life is messy. I don't have time for date nights, or weekend getaways, or whatever normal people do when they start seeing each other."
He didn't flinch, didn't waver. "I'm not asking for perfect," he said simply. "I'm asking for real."
A lump formed in my throat, my heart pounding. "Real means responsibility. Real means I have to give you something back, something I don't even know if I can manage. Seth needs me. His head's not in a good place, and I can't—" My voice caught, frustration swelling in my chest. "I can't be selfish right now."
Edward didn't speak right away. Instead, he crossed the room and sat across from me, elbows on his knees, his expression softer now. "Leah… liking me, wanting me—it doesn't make you selfish."
I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "You don't get it. You have your whole world and your lifestyle—how does any of this fit into that? Where do I fit into that?"
His gaze stayed locked on mine, unwavering. "I don't want to fit you into it. I want to build something with you. However that looks."
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "I'm not even established yet," I said quickly, frustrated.
His face never changed. "I can't be here for you while you do that?"
My chest tightened. "So, what then? What do we do?"
He leaned back slightly, like he was considering. "We take it slow. No pressure. No expectations. Just us, figuring it out as we go. I don't need labels, and I don't need perfection—I just need you to stop pushing me away."
I swallowed hard, my fingers digging into my knees. "And if I can't give you what you want?"
"Then we deal with it when we get there," he said without hesitation. "But I don't want to walk away just because things aren't easy."
I searched his face, feeling the warmth in his gaze, the sincerity in his voice. I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe this could work.
"Okay," I murmured after a long pause. "No pressure."
A slow, knowing smile tugged at his lips. "That's all I ask."
I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"
He smirked. "And yet, here you are."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't fight the small smile breaking through.
I had spent weeks agonizing over whether this man actually liked me, overanalyzing every touch, every glance, every word. And now? It's unmistakable. But the idea of actually trying to be with him? That's what scares me.
We come from two different extremes. My life lately had been all about survival, responsibility, scraping by. His? Luxury, power, access to everything. Sure, my financial situation had changed—a little—but that didn't erase the divide between us.
I sighed, rubbing my thumb against my palm before glancing at him. "What if this is just about sex?"
Edward arched a brow, lips curving into an easy grin. "Damn. Here I was thinking I had layers."
I snorted. "I mean it. What if this is just… a thing we got caught up in? Lust, adrenaline—whatever you want to call it."
He tilted his head, pretending to consider. "Well, if I were just after sex, don't you think I'd have tapped out by now?"
I scoffed. "You're a man. You'd endure a lot for a good orgasm."
Edward burst out laughing, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, fair. But still—if this was just about that, I wouldn't be sitting here having an existential crisis with you, would I?"
That shut me up.
He grinned, leaning in slightly. "I hate to break it to you, Leah, but I'm not just a piece of meat."
I sighed dramatically. "Fuck," I hissed, my chest tight. "That's unfortunate."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll survive."
I wasn't sure if I would. Because this—whatever this was—was starting to feel terrifyingly real. I wasn't in a good place mentally. I didn't want to drag this man into my mess when he deserved someone who could actually be present—fully, completely.
And yet, he had this way of making me feel—inside and out. Something that made me hesitate to walk away entirely.
"I know I've gotta get you home soon," he said softly. "But, I just need to say… thank you. For everything tonight."
I laughed because it didn't make sense. This man had taken me out, spent an absurd amount on weed, food, and drinks. Yet, somehow, he was the one thanking me.
...
..
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