Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Rub Me The Right Way

"I know what you need," Tanya says, flipping down her visor to block the sun.

"What?" The question comes out a little more bitchy than I intend, but I can't help it. It's been a stressful day.

"A nice massage," she replies in a soothing tone. "Then later tonight, we'll go out for drinks! It's the perfect remedy for a shitty week."

"That doesn't sound bad, actually. I don't remember the last time I had one." I exhale heavily, resting my head against the seat and soaking up the sunshine. "But who would I call on such short notice?"

"Lemme make a call. I'll see if I can get you in with my guy." Picking up her phone, she starts to dial before I grab it out of her hand. "What?"

"Your guy?" I squeak out. I haven't been touched by a guy in far too long, and I don't particularly want to start with a stranger.

"Yeah. Is there a problem with that?" she asks, looking at me like I have three heads.

"No, just… Isn't it kinda weird having a guy's hands all over you like that?"

Tanya throws her head back and laughs loudly. "Oh, girl. One appointment with my guy and you'll be ruined for life." She draws out that last syllable, throwing her hand up like she's taking an oath.

Tanya takes the phone back and makes the call. I'm only privy to her end of the conversation that is a stream of whines and squeals. She sounds like a Valley girl.

"I got them to squeeze you in at six o'clock tonight. I told Riley it was an emergency."

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Two hours later, Tanya's dropping me off in front of The Fray.

"Just tell them your name and that I called and made the appointment for you. They'll take care of the rest," Tanya instructs as I get out of the car. "Oh, and Bella, if you're offered the special menu, take it."

"What?"

"Don't ask questions! Just do it!" she says as she drives away, top down, hair blowing in the wind. It's a perfect metaphor for how she lives her life—free, uninhibited, and on the edge. I feel the familiar pang of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. Just once, I'd like to throw caution to the wind and live a day in her shoes, but my life doesn't roll like that. Where everything seems to happen so easily for her, I have to struggle for everything I get. It's not fair, but I remind myself that it's what makes me me. And I'm okay with that. Really. So, I suck it up and put on my happy face.

When I walk into the spa, I immediately feel my tension level drop. There is a wonderful aroma made up of lavender and something else I can't put my finger on, but it's heavenly. I want to bottle it up and take it with me. As I'm closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, a greeting interrupts my moment of bliss.

"Welcome to The Fray," the peppy girl at the front desk says, giving me a warm smile. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes, Bella Swan. My friend, Tanya, made the appointment for me," I answer, just like Tanya instructed.

"Oh! You're Bella!" The name recognition only makes her peppiness go up to a level five… on a scale from one to four. "I knew when Tanya said it was an emergency, I had to work you in. Please sit down and relax. I'll go get your room ready." She starts to turn around and walk down the hall but stops. "Can I get you some hot tea or a spritzer?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though." She must be on drugs. No one is naturally that happy.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, she instructs me to go down the hall to room number two and strip down. "All the way down," she reiterates. The doubt must have been written all over my face. The thought of being naked with a man in the room makes me tense up. I'm supposed to be here relaxing, but how can I when I'm freaking out over being naked? I take a deep breath and try to convince myself that everything will be fine. Tanya comes here once a week. If she can do it, I can do it.

Fly like the wind, Bella. Be free.

When I'm completely nude and lying face down, tucked under the softest sheets I've ever felt, I hear a light tap at the door.

"Are you ready for me?" a voice asks from the other side of the door. And it's like pure honey… low but not too gruff. Confident, edging on cocky. Smooth yet still very manly.

"Ye—es," I answer, giving him permission to enter, and my voice breaks like I'm a thirteen-year-old boy who just hit puberty.

I hear his footsteps walk closer to the table, and I want to look up to see what his face looks like. I want to see if it goes with the voice.

"You must be Bella."

"Yeah," I answer, suddenly feeling like my shy junior high self. "You must be Riley?" I ask softly, remembering the name Tanya had said on the phone earlier.

The honey-laden voice laughs. "The only way I would be Riley is if I was a half foot shorter, had long brown hair, and a thing for dudes." I feel the heat from his body as he stands near me. "I'm Edward."

I can't lie here any longer without seeing what he looks like. When I hear him walk away, I strain my neck to catch a glimpse.

And now I know why curiosity killed the cat.

My gaze starts at his strong, well-defined jaw and doesn't stop until I get to the messiest bronze-colored hair I've ever seen, not missing the mesmerizing green eyes that are smiling down at me.

I pinch myself under the sheet and wince.

"Are you okay?" he asks, coming around to the side of the table.

"Fine, yeah, it's nothing."

I just had to make sure I haven't died and gone to heaven.

"Let's get started, shall we?" The smile he's giving me warms me from the inside out and renders me speechless. So I nod my head in agreement and try to will away the blush I feel creeping up on my cheeks.

On one hand, I'm relieved that I'm lying face down. He won't see me blush, and I won't feel embarrassed about my B-cup boobs.

On the other hand, I'm feeling jipped, because I could stare at him all damn day. I bet people pay extra to have his services.

And at that, I feel moisture between my legs.

Fuck. This is such a bad idea.

Just when I'm making my escape plan, his smooth voice is at my ear, and a soft melodic tune is playing in the background. Jazz, maybe?

"You just relax and leave the rest to me," he says. I want to watch him, but I do as I'm told and try to relax, closing my eyes, letting him soothe my aches and pains.

His hands gently begin to rub my shoulders, thumbs working out tension under the skin. His touch is firm but not too firm, and I'm lost—lost in his touch, lost in the luscious smells, just lost.

Fuck. This is the best idea ever.

The more he rubs, working over my shoulders, the more relaxed I feel. His hands slowly working away any awkwardness and any regrets about taking Tanya's advice.

"Tanya said this would be good, but I had no idea." My words end with a whorish moan, but I don't even care. I'll give him about a thousand years to stop what he's doing.

His movements pause for a brief second. "Oh, you're friends with Tanya?" he asks, switching from kneading to a more gentle rub.

"Best friends."

"Really? Well, she's a very loyal customer," he says, each word sounding like a bedtime story or an erotic book. That last thought needs to leave. Just thinking about Edward saying anything R-rated makes me squeeze my thighs together. He'd make a perfect radio DJ… or a phone-sex operator.

Stop it, Bella.

"Your hands are magic. Do you have them insured?" My filter left with the tension in my right shoulder… and that nagging pain I've been having in my neck. Gone. All of it.

He laughs lightly, and it's delicious. "What?"

"You know like Heidi Klum insured her legs for a million dollars, and Bruce Springsteen insured his voice. I heard Jennifer Love Hewitt is thinking about insuring her boobs for a million as well. Which is smart thinking, because she has great boobs." The verbal vomit flows freely from my mouth, and I can't contain the next moan that's trying to escape. "Oh, God. That feels amazing." Edward's hands are now running down my arms with just the right amount of pressure.

"You can call me Edward." He chuckles, digging in a little deeper, eliciting another exaggerated sigh from me.

As he moves to my back, I feel myself slipping into a state of unconsciousness. Even though I've zoned out, I'm still aware of Edward's touches and the way he smells and the soft sounds that come out of his mouth, all of it combining to stoke the fire that has started deep inside.

"I'm going to start on your legs now," he says, walking down to the end of the table.

About twenty minutes ago, I might have been opposed to him touching me below the waist, but with each stroke, my walls are crumbling.

Why does this feel like a very long session of foreplay?

I try to rein in the rampant thoughts, but my body and my brain have disconnected.

"Mmmmm. That feels..."

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EPOV

I swear to God, if she moans one more time, my dick is going to injure itself trying to force its way out of my pants.

I want to ask her if she's interested in something extra… offer her the special menu. I mean, she is best friends with Tanya, and Tanya doesn't leave without a happy ending. Riley would probably kill me for offering without his approval. He likes to do a little background check before someone new is placed on the list. Normally, I follow protocol because I like my job, and I want to keep it. And also because I'm too pretty for prison, but right now, I don't really give a fuck.

Ever since I walked in and saw her lying on my table, I've been hard. That doesn't usually happen. I'm excellent at separating business and pleasure. It's what makes me so damn good at my job. Well, that and these magic hands, as Bella referred to them.

I'd like to show her just how magic they can be. She has no fucking idea how good I can make her feel. I guess I could… I pause momentarily, warring with policy and need. I want to touch her. I'd love nothing more than to see her fall apart on my table.

But, I could get fired.

And what exactly would Riley do without me?

"Find someone else with magic hands," the annoying voice in my head replies.

That voice can go fuck itself.

I could argue the fact that she was referred here by Tanya, and that is how we normally get new clients on the list: referrals.

She moans again, her body shifting under the sheets.

Fuck it. I'll take the heat.

'Tis better to ask forgiveness than permission.

That's my motto.

And I want to touch her.

And I'm a selfish bastard who usually gets what he wants.

"Bella?" I ask tentatively, working her calves and noticing how tone and tight they are. I bet her ass is just as firm.

"Hmmm?" she mumbles a few beats later. I can tell by the way her body is lax that she's somewhere between sleep and awake.

"Would you be interested in our special menu?"

Her head slowly lifts off the table, until she's looking at me with her big brown eyes. "What'd you have in mind?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

There's something different about her tone from when I first entered the room. It's less shaky and isn't breaking on every word. It's more languid, relaxed.

"I could make you feel so good," I tell her, striking while the iron's hot.

Her eyebrows slowly move up her forehead, and her cute mouth opens, forming an 'o', as she grasps for a response to my offer.

I'd like to put those pouty lips to use on my cock.

Focus, Edward. Focus.

"Listen," I start, wanting to reassure her and explain. I can tell she's reserved. But I want her to let me do this. I just want her. "Some of our clients, like Tanya, for instance, get special services. We have what Riley refers to as the list, people who we trust and know, people who understand the need for something extra." I hope she's getting what I'm throwing down, because I would be completely going against policy if I laid it out there for her any more than I already am. Most new clients come here seeking what we offer, not the other way around.

She arches an eyebrow at me, but I see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of hers. She's a smart girl. I'm sure she's putting two and two together about now.

I nod slowly, encouraging her thought process. "We all lead such stressful lives," I tell her, selling her on what I have to offer. "It's nice to be able to relax, unwind, come undone..." I add on a smirk at those last words, and I can tell by the look on her face I just closed the deal. "What do you say?" I ask, needing her approval.

She simply nods her head, her eyes locked on mine.

"I have to hear you say it, Bella."

"Ye—yes," she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Yes... I say yes."

"Don't be nervous. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

Running my hands gently up her legs, from her calves to her thighs, I feel goosebumps on her skin. "Remember, you can tell me to stop any time something doesn't feel good. Deal?"

"Deal," she says, hiding her face behind her hair.

"When was the last time you had a proper orgasm?"

She shakes her head but doesn't reply.

"I'm sure someone as beautiful as you has had her fair share."

"I don't date," she mutters, keeping her face turned down, talking to the floor.

"That's such a shame." My words are contradictory to what I'm feeling inside. Inside, I'm doing a fist pump. I don't know why I should care whether or not she dates, and I'm more than confident in my skills, so it's not about competing with someone. It just makes me happy that she's… available.

"Ahhh." A high-pitched noise comes from Bella's parted mouth, something between a moan and a cry. Her body tenses as I caress her inner thigh.

"Just relax," I tell her. "We'll go slow."

But fuck if that's not the last thing I want to do.

How does this beautiful being lying on my table not date? And how is some lucky fucker not giving her the orgasm of her life every damn day.

Kneading, massaging, I work my way to where I want to be: The Promised Land.

"I'm going to need you to turn over," I whisper, leaning over so my lips are right next to her ear. Inhaling, I'm rewarded with the sweetest smell… Her hair smells like cotton candy, and it makes me wonder what the rest of her smells like… tastes like.

She hesitates for a moment, and I'm afraid she's changed her mind. The way my heart sinks lets me know that I'm in this as much for myself as I am for her.

"I won't look."

Finally, she starts to turn over, and I hold the sheet up, keeping my promise.

When she's lying on her back and I can see her beautiful face… and her gorgeous hair is fanned out around her, I take a split second to just look at her. The soft angles of her cheeks and nose. Her pink lips. The long but natural lashes that are settled against her creamy skin. She's beautiful.

"How about I start at the top and work my way down?" I ask.

With closed eyes, she nods.

Starting up near her neck, I massage her petite collar bones, loving the way my hands look on her skin. After getting a bit more lotion, I warm it up and slowly work my way down the front of her arms, soothing… and her face relaxes. I watch as her eyebrows go back to their normal location and her lips part. Slowly, I rub down the sides of her breasts and then under them, cupping them in my hands and fighting the urge to pull her tight nipples into my mouth.

"How's that?" I ask.

She let's out a small approving moan and nods.

I continue my path down her ribcage and to her stomach, alternating between light, feathery touches and deep kneading with my thumbs.

When I get to her hips, I look up to see that her breasts are exposed, but she doesn't seem to care. I take that as my cue that she's relaxed, comfortable, and ready for what I'm about to give her.

I figure now is as good a time as any to make my approach. Normally, it's mechanical for me, using my skill set to reach a goal. I don't think about it or put any emotion into it. I never get attached or… affected. It's why I'm good at it and why Riley trusts me with the secret list. I've never really questioned it. It's damn good money. Some of the women tip more for an hour of services than I used to make in a day. I've gone from renting a one-bedroom apartment to buying a house in the suburbs. And did I mention my car's paid off? Regardless, I know I won't do it forever. The thought has crossed my mind that if I were in a serious relationship, this wouldn't work, but I'm not, nor have I been for a while.

"Oh…" Bella says, her eyes fluttering as my hand gets closer to the apex of her thighs.

"Does that feel good?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

I can't keep my eyes off of her—the plumpness of her bottom lip, the way her eyebrows pull together and then relax… the soft pink on her cheeks. And although I told her to relax, I'd love to see her eyes—to look into the depths of her soul and know that what I'm doing is giving her pleasure.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Get it together, Edward. Focus.

I've gotta watch myself, or I'll be the next Paul—attached after a session and thinking this is something it's not, and the next thing I know, I'll be out of a job.

"I'm going to touch your pussy now," I warn her, and she shivers at my words. I smile to myself, loving how responsive she is. Her nervousness is endearing. "Remember, you can tell me to stop at any time."

But please don't.

As my hand slides softly over her heat, I have to pause for a second and get my shit together. Normally, this has very little effect on me. I don't go there. I don't even think about it. I just do the job… in and out… no pun intended.

When I stroke her, letting my middle finger slip between her folds, she arches her hips off the table and into my hand.

I might let out a groan. Maybe. And it's probably the most unprofessional moment of my life.

Question of the day: What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Did I do something wrong?" Bella asks. When I look down at her, her eyes are open, on me, examining.

"No, of course not." I clear my throat and try to clear my head, but all I can see is Bella—her body, that face, and the way her hips are moving under my hand.

This is not the shy, timid, unsure woman that was on my table half an hour ago. This is a woman who knows what she wants and is going after it. And I'm gonna give it to her.

"Tell me how you like it," I demand softly.

Her eyes flutter, and her mouth parts, but no words come out.

I slide my finger up and down, teasing at her entrance. "I'm gonna need to hear some words out of that pretty little mouth," I tell her.

"I li—like it when you do—" She pauses, her breath hitching in her throat as I circle her clit. "—that." She moans, and her legs get restless as she fights her body's natural response.

"You like it when I touch your clit?" I ask, wanting to hear her say it.

"Yes," she says on an exhaled breath.

"Tell me."

"I like it when you touch my clit."

"And what else?"

"I like it when you… ahhhhh." Her hips move off the table again, searching for more—more pressure, more friction, just more.

"What was that?"

Her eyebrows furrow, and her chin tilts as she presses her head into the table, completely wrapped up in what my hand is doing below the sheet.

I bite down on my lip to keep another groan from slipping out. My cock also wants in on the action.

Not this time.

What?

Stop.

Forcing myself to focus, I slip my finger up her slit and then down… and then up again, using the slickness to move faster. She's so responsive. So wet. So hot. I want to tell her… tell her how wet she is, ask her if she's only this wet for me. But that would be crossing the line… whatever line there is. I can't. I want to. But I can't.

"Ohmygod," Bella gushes, her words tumbling out and falling together. "Oh, f—"

I know what's on the tip of that tongue… the one I'd love nothing better than to be kissing the shit out of right now.

"Tell me, Bella. I want to hear it… all of it," I encourage, knowing I'm going to have business to attend to when I'm done here. I'll be lucky to make it out of this room without embarrassing myself, but I don't care. Right now, all I want is for her to come and for it to be because of me… and I want to hear her. "Don't hold back."

"Ahhh." This time it's louder, and her hands grip the sides of the table, her legs writhing and her hips grinding. She's literally fucking my hand, and I might explode. I've never come without someone touching me or me touching myself, but this may be a first for me.

"Come, Bella. Come for me."

I slip a finger and then two inside her wet heat, feeling her walls begin to spasm. Keeping up the friction on her clit, I begin to pump, wishing it were my cock instead of my fingers but taking whatever I can get at this point.

"That's it," I encourage, loving that she's completely letting go… letting herself feel. "You're so fucking beautiful." That probably shouldn't have come out, but it did, and it's the truth. She is. So beautiful.

"I'm gonna come," she says in a strained voice, on the brink of crying out from pleasure. I want her to. I want the person in the next room to hear her. I want people in the next town over to hear her and know that is was me who gave her this orgasm. I did it. I own those cries and the pleasure.

"Do it, Bella. Fucking come for me," I growl out, pumping my fingers harder but mostly letting her grind down on them, setting her own pace.

I know when she falls over the edge. Her legs go rigid, as does her back. Her hips press harder into my hand, and her head tilts back so far that she's hanging over the side of the table. I hold my thumb to her clit, letting her ride out her orgasm, loving the feel of her walls tightening around my fingers.

"That's it," I soothe. "So fucking beautiful."

After a minute or so, Bella's eyes flutter open, and I'm worried she'll be embarrassed, but I'm so wrong. She's breathtaking. Her eyes are hooded and hazy, but the flush on her cheeks and small smile on her lips let me know that she's completely satiated, not an ounce of embarrassment to be seen.

"How was that?" I ask, pulling the sheet down and leaning over her.

"Best orgasm ever."

I smirk and nod.

"Let me get you a warm towel to clean up with, and I'll give you some privacy," I tell her, walking to the warming cabinet and pulling one out.

I lay it on the bed beside her, but I don't want to leave. Actually, I'd love to do this part for her, but I know I shouldn't. I should tell her, Thank you for coming. Pun intended. And, I'll see you next time. But instead, I want to ask for her number and what she's doing for dinner tonight… and where she sees herself in five years.

"Thank you," she says, the shyness slipping back into place.

"No thanks necessary," I tell her, wanting to say so much more. Like, No. Thank YOU.

"Do you work every day?" she asks, biting down on the corner of her mouth, and I find myself wanting to kiss her again, so fucking bad.

"Only Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

She nods and pulls the sheet up a little higher.

"Can I make you another appointment?"

Her face falls a little, and I wonder if maybe she didn't enjoy it as much as I thought she did.

"Or can I call you sometime?" I ask, letting my verbal filter crumble. "Maybe for drinks or dinner?"

"What?" she asks, the blush in full effect on her beautiful cheeks.

"Never mind," I say, shaking my head. I must be reading her all wrong. "I'm… I'm sorry. I'll let you get dressed." Turning around, I head for the door, but as my hand reaches the knob, she stops me dead in my tracks.

"I want a repeat," she says boldly, like it took everything in her to blurt it out, and I smile triumphantly, but at the door, because I don't want to seem too cocky.

"A repeat, huh?" I ask, turning back around.

"Yeah." She swings her legs off the bed and sits up, holding the sheet to her chest. "But drinks or dinner sounds great too."

Now, she's the one fighting off a smile.

I walk back over to her, or more like stalk back over to her, wanting to take her like my prized prey.

"I'll give you a repeat," I tell her, my lips brushing her ear. "But next time, it won't be here."

She nods. "Okay," she agrees, breathless again. "I—I'd like that."

I let my lips land on her cheek and then her neck, tasting her skin and knowing I have to have more. But not here, not now. I'll have her, but it'll be on mutual turf, where I can take what I want and give her what she needs.

"God, I want to kiss you," I admit, my mind fighting with the rest of me.

"Is… Is that on the menu?" she asks, her head in the clouds, distracted by my lips that have halted their upward stride.

No.

No, it's not on the menu.

Fuck.

What am I doing?

"I'm going to let you get dressed. I'll be just outside the door if you need me."

Backing away from her, I can see the questions spinning in her head, but the desire is still there. She wants me. And fuck if that doesn't do things to me, on so many levels… ones that far exceed this room and special menus and secret lists.

I leave this time, forcing myself out of the room and to play it cool. I walk to the desk and punch in the codes for the services rendered, leaving off the special menu selection. I'm not sure why. Maybe because being paid for what happened in there feels wrong, but I only charge her for the massage.

"How'd it go?" Jessica asks, popping up out of nowhere and scaring the piss out of me. I swear she's on drugs. She bounces way too much.

"Great," I say, printing out a receipt for Bella. The services were charged to Tanya. I honestly didn't realize Tanya was so nice. If you'd asked me before today, I would've told you she didn't have friends. But apparently she does. Riley says she's a bitch, but she tips well.

Tapping on the door of the room I left Bella in, I put my ear up to it, listening for movement. When I'm met with only silence, I crack the door open to see Bella is gone. The sheets are pulled neatly up on the bed. Her things that were folded on the chair are no longer there. I look behind me to see if I missed her somehow. I hadn't been gone that long. Maybe she's in the bathroom?

Walking quickly down the hall, I turn the corner just in time to see an older lady walking out of the one-stall bathroom.

Huh.

Making my way back up to the front, I poke my head in the room one more time, and it's as if she was never there, a figment of my imagination.

What the fuck?

I wasn't done.

I wanted to ask her for her number… if she'd like to go out sometime.

Glancing out the glass door, I'm just in time to see a convertible pull off, Bella's long dark hair blowing in the night air, and then she's gone, fading into the darkness. All I can see are the departing tail lights.

"You closing up tonight?" Jessica asks, scaring the shit out of me again.

"Yeah," I reply, looking back out the door, but there's nothing there. All of the cars are gone for the night. I was supposed to be off two hours ago, but Riley talked me into trading with him. He had a hot date with a dude named Laurent, some French guy he met last weekend.

"Well, I'll collect all of the towels if you want to strip the beds," she suggests, walking down the hall toward the rooms.

"Sounds like a deal."

As annoying as Jessica is, she's not horrible. She's nice to the customers, pulls her weight, and she's discreet. It's more than I can say for the last girl Riley had working the front. That bitch was crazy. She actually sold a guy out to his girlfriend for a hundred bucks. Angela, one of our massage therapists who has a special set of clients, including the boyfriend that got sold out, was so pissed off. She hunted her down and beat the shit out of her at some bar.

Working in this kind of place, things get sketchy from time to time, but for the most part, it's smooth sailing. We run a tight ship. Everyone is background-checked. Except Bella. I'll have to come clean about that, or Riley will flip his shit if he finds out from someone besides me. Tanya.

But before I ask for forgiveness, I might as well do one more bad deed. Walking back to the front desk, I check down the hall to see if Jessica's coming. When I see that the coast is clear, I look through the new client sheets and find Bella's on top. Grabbing a pen, I write her number on the palm of my hand. I'll save it to my phone later.

"I'll finish the paperwork," Jess says, carrying a large basket with towels.

"Yeah, I was just making sure I turned in all my charts," I say smoothly. "Let me take that basket. I'll add the sheets to it and start the laundry."

She smiles and hands it over.

Girls, guys, gay, or straight—we all do laundry. It's not technically my night, but I have a secret agenda. I want to be the one to strip the sheets from the room Bella was in. I want to smell them, see if her sweet scent still lingers. I might even take them home. What with all the white sheets around here, no one would miss them.

I'm crazy.

I'm obviously off my fucking rocker.

I might get fired.

This is definitely not kosher.

But I couldn't give two shits.

I want her.

Not just as a client.

I want her all to myself.

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BPOV

"So," Tanya says, her words beginning to slur a bit. "How was it?" She takes another long drink of her Mai Tai, glancing over at the bartender and signaling for another round. "You haven't said two words about it since I picked you up."

"It was…" I pause and take a drink, needing the liquid courage. "Uh, relaxing."

"That's it? Just relaxing?"

She watches me with a cocked eyebrow and a knowing look.

I don't know why I'm playing coy. It was her idea. She made the appointment. She knows what goes on there, which is why she wanted me to go in the first place. And now I don't know if I'd rather kiss her or punch her in her vagina, because I don't know how I'm going to be able to sleep tonight or work tomorrow. Every time I close my eyes, all I can think about are Edward's magic hands and fingers, making me feel things I thought women made up to make their men sound supreme. But the earth-shattering orgasm is not a unicorn.

It's real.

I had one.

He gave it to me.

And I want more.

But next time, I want those sweet, soft lips that touched my neck… and anything else he's willing to give me.

"It was invigorating," I tell her, adding to my previous statement.

A small smirk forms on her red painted lips.

"And transcendent."

Her eyes twinkle with mischief. "Uh-huh," she encourages, sliding on her barstool to get a little closer.

"And so. Fucking. Good." I moan the last word, unable to contain myself or my visceral reaction to the fresh memory. So visceral, in fact, that I have to squirm in my seat and cross my legs back the other way.

Tanya's squeal garners the attention of all the men in the bar. And the women.

When she calms down, she smooths her hair and collects her fresh drink from the bar, sliding back onto her bar stool. "So, would you like me to make you another appointment? He's fantastic, right?"

"Wellllll…."

"What? You are going back, right?" Her face is more serious, her straw millimeters from her mouth as she awaits my response.

"Actually, I didn't see Riley," I tell her, taking another drink, readying myself for the rest of the story.

She frowns and draws her head back. "Really?"

"Yeah, he was busy or something."

"Then, who'd you—" she starts to ask but instead, places her drink on the wooden bar and then slaps her hand beside it. "You bitch." The tone would make a bypasser think she's pissed off, but I know her better than that. And her bite is way bigger than her bark. "You lucky lucky bitch!"

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up, and I take another drink. "What?"

"You got Edward." It's not a question. It's a statement. She shakes her head in disbelief. "I should've known from the glow. I mean, Riley is good, but he's not that good. Plus, he's gay, so that takes away a little of the intrigue. Although, he used to bat for the other team. I mean, obviously, because the dude knows his way around a vagina. And I heard that he's into threesomes, as long as there's a honey in the middle—his version of honey being a buff piece of man meat, of course…"

She rambles on and on about Riley and his magic pussy hands and how crazy it is for a gay guy to give that good of an orgasm… to a girl… but also how thankful she is, because there are days she'd combust if it wasn't for him.

I just sit there and hoover my drink, hoping no one is listening to this shit, and if they are, that they assume she's drunk off her ass, which she almost is.

"So, Edward, huh?" she asks when she finally decides to take a breath.

"Yep."

"And?"

"What?"

"I need details."

"Ew. No."

"What?"

"I'm not giving you details."

"But he was good, right?" She has a dreamy, far-off look on her face as she leans one elbow on the bar.

"Yes."

"And you are going back."

"I don't know. I mean, I want to see him again, but I don't know… He mentioned something about a… repeat," I say, trying to sound casual, diverting my gaze across the bar and then to the floor, anywhere but Tanya's gaping expression.

"He said what exactly?" she asks, leaning in a little closer.

"Th—that he would like to give me a repeat," I mumble.

"A repeat?"

I nod.

"Like you should come back in next week? I'll have Jessica make you an appointment? That kind of repeat?"

"Who's Jessica?"

"Bouncy chick on crack."

"Oh." I nod. "No, no. He didn't say anything about that."

"Then what did he say?"

"He said it wouldn't be there."

"As in…"

"As in somewhere besides there."

"Like a date?"

I shrug. "I don't know. He started kissing my ne—"

"He kissed you?" she exclaims, grabbing my shoulders, practically making me spill my drink.

"On the neck."

Tanya's eyes fall closed, and she leans back, practically falling off the bar stool.

"I'm guessing Riley doesn't do that?"

"Fuck no. It's like wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am." She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I paid for that shit. I should've been the one to get Edward." Now she sounds like a petulant child that didn't get a toy at Wal-Mart.

"Thank you." I tell her, unsure of what else I should say.

"So, what now?" she asks.

"I don't know."

"Did he ask for your number?"

I shake my head, taking a drink.

"Did he give you his?"

"No."

"Would you go out with him if he did call?"

"Yes."

"Really, Bella? You didn't even have to think about it? Miss I'm-too-busy-for-dates."

"You said yourself that I should get out more, meet people. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I don't know if this is your guy. You do realize what he did for you today, he might've done to half a dozen other women... this week, right?"

I feel the blood drain from my face. Of course, the logical part of my brain knows that. Of course. "Of course."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"I know what he does for a living. I'm not saying I'm going to marry him."

"And you'd be okay dating a guy who gives women orgasms for a living?"

"It's not all he does. And I didn't say anything about dating him."

"Soooo, you just want to fuck him?"

"Tanya!"

"What?" she asks, hands raised in surrender. "I'm just keepin' it real."

I think about it for a minute, nursing the last of my drink. Sure, I know what he does. Sure, it bothers me. But I think what would bother me more is never seeing him again. It's not like we met at church and he turned out to be a porn dealer. It's all out on the table. "Maybe I just want to see where it goes," I tell her.

"That might be playing with fire, and I don't want you to get burned."

"Maybe I need a little fire in my life."

"Sounds a lot like trouble, and that doesn't sound a lot like you," Tanya says, cocking her head to one side. "What happened to you today? Here I thought I was sending you there to relax and get your head on straight… maybe find a little pleasure. But now, you're talking crazy and have this far-off look in your eye."

I shake my head, trying to put into words how I feel… how I felt. I've had orgasms—not great ones, and most of the better ones coming from my own hand. So I'm not sure it's just the release I'm after.

The thought that I could be after more than that, though, sounds asinine.

One thing I'm not is naïve. I'm so not naïve that it keeps me from taking chances in love.

Divorced parents, friends cheating on their significant others and telling me all about it, watching my boss visit a new girlfriend every day of the week while his wife is at home taking care of their three kids—the ugliness of love has always made me guard my heart, never being one of those girls who falls for the guy, especially ones like Edward. No, he is definitely not boyfriend material, but just thinking his name has my body responding. Maybe that's what I'm after? This responsive, uncontrollable feeling.

I'd never felt such an overwhelming sense to want to cry and laugh and scream all at the same time as I did while lying on that table. The emotions were bubbling under my skin, and I was literally chasing my orgasm down like a starved lion.

Is it okay to want something just because you want it?

I don't think I've ever done that. In twenty-five years of living, I'm pretty sure every decision I've made has been calculated and recalculated. I chose the college I went to based on the proximity to my dad's house and the amount of time it would take for me to pay off the small student loan. I chose the job I'm at based on the amount of time I'd have to work there to move into the position I really wanted… and also their outstanding 401-K. When my friends make choices based on the weather or because it's Thursday, I stick to my tried and true methods, because they haven't failed me yet. But they also haven't brought much excitement or danger… or adventure. And up until a few hours ago, I was okay with that.

But something about that hour in the room with Edward made me want more. I want him. Even though I see all the flashing lights and warning signs, and I think my brain is actually putting out the "turn back now" alert, I still want him.

But maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I should do what I normally do and sleep on it. I'm sure after a good night's sleep, I'll be back to my level-headed, sensible self. I'm sure I'll forget all about the amazing orgasm and those talented fingers and that honey-laden voice… and those eyes… and that jaw… and his smile.

Oh, my God.

I need another drink.

Holding up my empty glass, I motion to the bartender for a refill. As I'm waiting, my phone rings in my purse. Taking it out, I see it's a number I don't recognize, but it's local, so I answer it.

"Hello?"

"Bella?"

The turbo button is pushed on my heart, and it tries to leap out of my throat and onto the bar in front of me.

"Uh-huh," I say, trying so hard to sound unfazed but failing miserably. Tanya gives me a weird look over the top of her glass, and I try to communicate with large eyes and pointing motions that it's Edward… Magic Hands Edward… Edward, The Great Orgasm Giver.

Her confusion multiplies as the voice on the other end of the phone begins to talk.

"I got your number from your information sheet. I hope you don't mind."

His voice is just as smooth over the phone, maybe a little more noticeable because I'm not distracted by his gorgeous face.

"Uh, no… No, I don't mind."

I can't help the smile that creeps up on my face. That must be an indicator to Tipsy Tanya who's on the phone because she slaps the bar and practically makes me jump out of my seat and spill my fresh drink.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime… drinks, dinner…"

The way his voice trails off, it's as if he was going to offer something else, and my mind goes to what that something else might be. But since I'm a respectable girl who doesn't meet up with random guys and bang, drinks or dinner sounds really nice.

"I'd like that."

"Great." The relief is evident in his tone, and I think I hear him release a pent-up breath. And I smile, even bigger than I was already. Cheshire-cat status.

"Great," I repeat.

"How about tomorrow?"

My heart speeds up again, and I feel a flush on my cheeks.

Anticipation?

Adrenaline?

Lust?

I don't know, but thinking about seeing him again so soon has me hot and bothered and ready to tell him to meet me here… now, tonight. Why wait for tomorrow? I could be hit by a bus on my way across the street to my car or mugged at gunpoint…

"Tomorrow sounds great."

I need to find a new word. Everything is great.

"Great."

At least I'm not alone in my word rut.

"So…"

"How about we meet at McNelly's? Say, 7:00?"

"Yeah, that sounds… good."

Two points for me.

"Okay. I'll see ya then. And Bella?" he asks, his voice dropping.

Along with my panties.

"Yeah?"

"I really enjoyed today."

Oh, fuck. He didn't just… Yeah, he did. And now, I'm crossing my legs tightly and taking deep breaths because all I can think about are his fingers and what they did to me.

"You still there?"

"Yep."

"Are you imagining what I did to you today?"

"Yep."

"Are you alone?"

"No."

"Even better."

Oh, God. He's going to kill me.

"Later, when you are alone, I want you to remember the way my fingers felt inside you. I want you to touch yourself like I touched you, and I want you to think of me. Maybe even say my name when you come. Can you do that for me?"

I think Tanya is saying something.

I think a guy just bumped into me and spilled some of my drink on my pants.

I think the room just hot hotter.

I think I need to go.

I think I forgot my name.

"Bella?"

"Ye—yes."

"Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," I say on an exaggerated breath.

"Good girl. I'll expect a full report tomorrow night."

"Okay." I swallow. Hard.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep."

He's relegated me to one-word answers.

I hear a soft chuckle, and then the line goes dead.

Bastard.

He knows.

"Was that...?" Tanya asks, pointing at my phone as I put it back into my purse.

"Yep."

"What are you getting yourself into, Bella Swan?"

"I don't know."

And that's the truth, but I'm willing to find out.

.

.

.

.

Pacing my kitchen floor with a cup of coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, I keep looking at the number from last night—the one Edward called me from—and waffling between calling and telling him I changed my mind and asking if we can meet earlier than 7:00.

My insides have never felt so discombobulated. I feel nervous in one breath, exhilarated in another, and out of my fucking mind with the next.

I went to bed thinking about him—pleasured myself with his voice in my ear and touch on my skin. I called out his name, just like he asked. Then I dreamed about him. And woke up in a twisted, damp t-shirt with hair that made me look like I'd been fucked six ways to Sunday. Well, in my dream, I had been. It felt real but also felt dream-like.

And now, here I am: sober, clear-thinking, level-headed Bella, and I'm wondering how I let the last twelve hours happen and how I agreed to a date with a virtual stranger… a man who pleasures women for a service.

How can I go out with him?

What could seriously come out of this?

Another fan-fucking-tastic orgasm.

That's what.

And heartache, because I already feel myself wanting more than just another orgasm, and I doubt he's looking for more than that.

How does he date?

Does he have a girlfriend?

I doubt it.

He wouldn't have called and asked me out if he did, right?

I shrug, in a full-on conversation with myself.

I guess it's possible.

Guys like him probably take sex and dating so casually.

Guys like him?

What does that mean, Bella?

I want to cry from the complete frustration and confusion going on in my brain right now… and all of it happening before the crack of dawn and before my second cup of coffee.

I need more coffee.

I need coffee and a shower and…

And what?

With an annoyed growl, I put my phone down on the counter and pour myself another cup of coffee. Inhaling deeply, I feel the miracle beans clearing my head.

This really isn't as complicated as I'm making it.

The answer is actually quite simple.

It's a war against selfish sexual desires and sensible decision-making.

Picking the phone back up off the counter, I push send on the number.

When Edward's sleepy voice answers, I cover my mouth and practically drop the phone.

Fuck.

Shit.

"I'm really sorry," I squeak out, cringing at my utter stupidity. "I should not have called you this early. I'm sorry." I pause, squeezing my eyes shut and knowing that since I've woken this gorgeous man up, I might as well get this over with.

"Bella?" he asks, and I'm actually surprised my voice registered with him. I'm sure I could be a number of women that could be calling him. But he did just talk to me last night, so.

"Yeah, listen." I hesitate for a moment, trying to remember exactly why I called him. Right. "I… I can't go out with you tonight. It's just… you're… you…"

"I'm what, Bella?" he asks, his voice raspy, still honey but with a little grit to it… like honey mixed with brown sugar. "Bella?" he asks again, pulling my head out of the clouds.

"You give women orgasms for a living," I blurt out.

The groggy, sleepy laugh makes my insides twist.

"Is this you realizing that you're too good to go out with a low-life like me?" he asks. I can hear a bit of teasing to his voice but also genuine sincerity.

"What? No… no. I'm, uh. No, that's not it. At all."

"Did you do what I asked you to do?"

Huh?

"Did you touch that sweet pussy and think of me, Bella? Did you call my name?"

"Yes," I say in a breathy tone that I hardly recognize.

"Let me guess. You're wondering what a girl like you is doing agreeing to a date with a guy like me. You're way smarter than that, right?"

"Yes." This time my voice has more substance to it, and I'm wondering if he's also some sort of mind-reader.

"What if I told you I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing too?"

I sit there with my hand over my heart, trying to keep it inside my chest.

"What if I told you this is different for me? Give me a chance to prove that to you, Bella. One date, and if it's horrible, you don't have to see me again."

"Okay," I'm agreeing before I even have time to think about it.

"Okay."

The more he talks, the more the rasp leaves his voice, and I miss it. I'd like to wake up next to him and hear it in person.

"One date."

"One date," I agree.

"I'll see you at 7:00."

"Okay."

I hang up the phone and stare at it, wondering how he does that… How does he so easily convince me of things I'd otherwise be so completely against?

Edward might be dangerous.

I might like it.

.

.

.

.

One date.

That's all I promised.

I repeat that to myself as I park my car near the pub. Scanning the other cars parked along the busy street, I wonder which one is Edward's. I wonder if he's here.

What if he stands me up?

Oh, that would be rich, wouldn't it?

"Bella?"

The familiar voice comes from the side of the building. Edward is leaning against the brick, dark pants, gray sweater, dark gray wool coat… hair messy but on purpose. When the wind blows, I catch a whiff of him, and it makes my knees feel weak and wobbly.

He's like kryptonite.

An Achilles heel.

"I was thinking you might come to your senses and stand me up," he says with a light laugh. His green eyes dance under the street lights.

"No." I laugh nervously. "But I thought the same about you."

"Never." He steps around me and opens the door, holding it open for me.

"Have you ever been here before?" he asks.

"No."

"It's great. Best fish and chips I've ever had."

"Oooo, I love fish and chips."

"Well," he says, quirking an eyebrow, and it goes straight between my legs like a lightning bolt. "You're gonna love this place, then." We walk up to a podium where a woman is already grabbing two menus for us. "A booth in the back, if possible," he says smoothly.

"Sure," she says, smiling as she grabs a couple of menus and leads us to a dimly lit back room.

After we're seated and the hostess leaves us, telling us our waiter will be right with us, I look across the table to Edward, who's looking back at me.

There aren't any other tables in this area of the restaurant. We're alone. It's private and quiet, and I'm suddenly really hot.

But thankfully, the waiter comes quickly and takes our drink orders. I follow Edward's lead and order a Guinness but have them mix mine with apple ale. It's too dry and stout for me without it. I learned that trick from going out with my brother and his friends.

"So, tell me about Bella," Edward says, leaning his elbows on the table and his body toward me.

I don't know why, but the question catches me off-guard. I thought we'd maybe make small talk and then… I don't know. Hook up? I don't know how this works. I don't know what to expect, but him being so attentive isn't on the short list of things I thought would happen tonight, and I almost feel ashamed for short-changing him.

"Uh, not much to know, really," I say, fidgeting with the napkin on the table.

"Well, good. Then you can start from the beginning." He smiles, waiting patiently and once again convincing me to do something I normally wouldn't.

I open up.

I tell him about the small town I'm from, the farm my parents live on, where I went to college, how I met Tanya.

In between, we drink Guinness and order fish and chips.

"Tell me about you," I say, turning the tables after we've finished eating, not wanting the night to end.

He tells the waiter that we'll have another round of beers and asks me if I want dessert, to which I decline. When the waiter asks him if he'll be having dessert, he responds with a yes and looks straight at me… like straight. At. Me. With intention.

As the waiter walks off to get our beers, Edward assumes his position, leaning in, focusing on me. "What would you like to know about me, Bella?"

I can tell he's giving me a chance to ask anything. Carte blanche.

And I want to know everything.

"What made you want to be a massage therapist?"

He smiles knowingly. "Well, when I was in college, I wanted to be a physical therapist, but PT school was hard to get into for a partier who carried a C average." He chuckles, but I can see there's more to that answer. And I watch his expression shift and change. "My parents filed for a divorce and bankruptcy my junior year. It made it pretty hard to finish anything. My sister, Alice, was a mess… She's four years younger than me, so she was a junior in high school, and she took it all really hard. Both of my parents lost their minds for a few years, leaving me to kind of hold it all together. I needed to work, not go to school and collect more debt, so I got my license for massage therapy, and Riley hired me a few months later."

Preconceived notions are so funny. We see someone, observe this two-dimensional version of them, and then decide we must know everything there is to know about them, but we don't. We're just barely scratching the surface.

"What about Alice?" I ask.

"She's great. She's in college now, about to graduate with her MBA."

"That's great."

Here we are, back to our greats.

"Your parents must be proud," I tell him.

"Yeah, they are. And they're not as crazy as I once thought. After all the stress of the divorce and financial problems subsided, it turns out they're better people apart. We actually all get together for holidays. It's weird, but it works."

"That's all that matters."

"Yeah," he agrees.

I look down at the table and notice his hand is lying palm up, like he's offering it to me. I want to feel his skin against mine, so I lay my palm flat against his.

His thumb curls around my hand, making soothing passes along my skin.

"Thank you for coming tonight," he says, breaking the silence.

I nod and smile and try to tamp down the emotions and feelings that are blooming inside me. One date, right? This was supposed to be more like a booty call than an actual date. This is Edward with magic hands and deliverer of orgasms.

But he's also a gentleman.

And he has depth.

And he's surprisingly exactly someone I could see myself with.

If I was out with anyone else, I'd go home tonight and call Tanya and gush about how he might be the one.

But this is Edward.

And I don't know what I mean by that.

The confusion is back, polluting my head.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, but I think he knows.

The way his hand feels holding mine puts me at ease… He puts me at ease.

"I'm wondering if you have a girlfriend… if you've had a girlfriend… how you could have a girlfriend with a job like yours."

There. It wasn't eloquent, and I might've just sent him running for the hills by dropping the g-word on the first date, but at least there won't be any misunderstandings.

He smiles, licks his bottom lip, and takes a deep breath before starting. "No, I don't have a girlfriend. Yes, I have had a girlfriend, but it's been… months, maybe a year or more. I don't know. I've only been… servicing the list," he says, the cocky smirk in full force, "for about that same amount of time. I haven't been looking for a girlfriend for that reason. Then you walked in."

I stare at him, wondering what to say to that.

"If I'd had a girlfriend, I never would've agreed to service the list," he says, his sincere eyes boring into mine. "I just want you to know that."

I nod. His honesty is refreshing. I love that he doesn't make apologies, that he's upfront about about everything.

"What are your plans for the rest of the night?" he asks.

And I really don't know what to say to that.

"I know I said one date, but I'm a selfish bastard. I want to take you home with me."

"I… uh…"

"Or we can go to your house. Whatever makes you more comfortable. I just want to be with you."

He wants to be with me.

I think my voice has taken a permanent vacation, or maybe my vocal cords are down in the pit of my stomach, but I just nod.

"What do you want, Bella?"

Oh, God.

Everything.

"Whatever you want," I finally say.

"That's a dangerous thing to say, Bella." He stands from the table and offers me his hand, which I take, loving the way mine feels when he's holding it, but his words make my body tingle with expectancy. "I'll bring you back to your car, or you can follow me," he says, giving me options.

Once again, I know what I'd normally do or what I should do, but I do the opposite.

"I'll go with you."

"Good choice. I don't know if I can let you go."

Do you mean right now… or ever? Because I'm leaning toward the latter.

I don't even pay attention to what kind of car he drives. I'm sure it's nice. It smells manly, like Edward, but that's about as far as I get with details, because for the entire drive, all I can concentrate on is Edward's hand in mine… and Edward's hand on my knee… and on my thigh… and teasing my pussy, making light strokes on the outside of my panties. All while watching the road.

"You're so beautiful," he says, his lips at my ear once we've pulled into a driveway… some driveway… it could be any driveway. "I can't wait to see all of you."

Kiss on my earlobe.

"Feel all of you."

Kiss behind my ear.

"Taste all of you."

Kiss on my cheek.

"And if I'm lucky enough, be inside you."

Kiss on my chin.

The large swallow I make, trying to keep my composure and not fall apart right here in the passenger's seat of his car, is audible.

"Do you like that, Bella?"

Kiss on my neck.

"Do you like hearing me tell you what I want to do to you?"

I nod.

"We have to get inside," he says with urgency. "Wait there."

He jumps out of the car and practically sprints around the front.

"Come on," he instructs when he opens my door and offers me his hand once again. The tightness in his voice matches the tightness in my throat, anticipation threatening to choke me out.

I follow Edward up the steps and into his house, not even taking the time to check anything out. He could be taking me into a cardboard box for all I care.

After tossing his keys onto a table, he turns and grabs me, pushing me up against a wall and kissing me so hard I feel it in my fingers and my stomach and my vagina… all the way down to my toes. It's possessive and needy. His hands are in my hair and then cupping my face. The speed goes from soft nips to ravenous licks and bites.

The kissing morphs into Edward's mouth being on every uncovered inch of my body.

"God, you taste just as good as I thought you would." He moans at my neck, extending his tongue and licking his way back up to my lips. "I need you naked."

With that, he cups my ass and picks me up, carrying me with ease into a dark room. I feel him kick his shoes off, and then he leans down to turn on a lamp.

"I need to see you," he informs.

Normally, I might feel insecure or nervous, but not now, not with Edward.

Already knowing he wants me and already knowing what he can do to my body makes me feel a sense of immediate need.

I need this shirt off.

I need to feel his body against mine.

I need to know what it feels like to be completely wrapped up in Edward.

I need to know if it's as good as my dream.

Sometimes in life, we have fantasies. Usually, that's all they are… They live in our minds, and we never get to see them come to fruition. But this is one of those rare moments where fantasy becomes reality.

"You okay?" he asks, sitting down on the bed with me in his lap. "If this isn't what you—"

I place my hand gently over his mouth to keep him from giving me an out. I don't need it. I don't want to think. I just want to feel.

"This is what I want. You are what I want."

With that, Edward rids me of my shirt in one swoop, pulling it over my head and tossing it to the floor. Reaching over his shoulder, he pulls his sweater off, his chest heaving as we sit close together.

He's here.

I'm here.

This is happening.

I want this.

"You're beautiful," I tell him, running a hand down his chest, stopping at the waist of his pants. "I want these off."

A growl vibrates from his chest as he stands back up, tossing me onto the bed. I watch as he unbuttons his pants. I watch as he pulls his boxer briefs down. I watch as his length springs free.

Whoa.

I'm doing this.

This is happening.

When Edward is completely naked, he starts on me. I guess I could've been taking care of that, but with that ten-second strip show, I was a little preoccupied.

"Off," he demands, pulling at the edge of my skirt. I oblige and lift my hips.

I'm still in my bra and panties, and Edward steps back and just observes… like I'm a piece of art on display. His exploratory gaze makes me want to cover myself but also kind of sets me free. Like, this is me. Take me or leave me.

"Just as beautiful as I thought."

"You've kind of already seen the goods," I tell him.

"I told you I wouldn't look."

"Yeah, right."

"Bella," he says seriously, stalking toward me and leaning over me, his long cock coming so close to where I want it to be. "I'm a man of my word."

I swallow. Hard. And nod.

I want him to do more than just look at me, and he does…

Taking his time, and using those magic fingers, he makes me feel so good.

Just like he said he would.

.

.

.

.

EPOV

"I need to be buried inside you, Bella, feel you squeeze against my cock when you come. You want me inside?"

"Yes, please."

Leaning over to my nightstand, I pull out a condom. Freshly stocked and hot off the shelf. I'm not saying I knew this would happen, but I was hoping, and I wanted to be prepared.

"Please," she begs again, her voice breaking. Her eyes are glued to my cock as I unroll the condom down my length. She bites down on her lip, and I love it. I love the way she's looking at me, like I'm her next meal.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Yes."

Her legs twist and turn, creating friction for that hot, tight pussy.

"Baby," I warn, standing from the bed and pulling her to the edge. I look down and admire her pink folds, rubbing my cock up and down the slit, teasing her… coaxing. "Are you ready for me?" I ask, sinking my fingers deep inside and curling them up.

"Yes. Please, Edward. God, I want you so bad… I need to feel you."

"Good girl." That's right where I want her. Desperate. Needing.

Pulling my fingers out, I use her wetness to lube up my latex-covered cock and slowly press past her opening, pausing with every inch to keep from pounding into her.

I know she's not a virgin, but she's so fucking tight. And I haven't had sex in a long fucking time. And... Yeah, slow. Slow. Slow. Slow. Until I'm balls deep in the most heavenly heat I've ever felt. It's velvet and soft and… "Fuuuuuuck." I'm gonna come.

"Move, Edward," Bella demands, her hands coming up to grip my arms, pulling me as close as she can get me. "I need to feel you."

Look who knows what she wants. I fucking love it. And I want to give it to her.

Everything.

After another second of gathering myself, I finally start moving—in and out—watching my cock disappear inside her.

Bella starts panting heavily, small moans coming out with each thrust.

"Let me hear it, Bella. Let me hear how good you feel while I'm fucking you."

Her small pants and moans turn into louder cries of pleasure as I put pressure on her clit.

When the next orgasm hits her, she grabs frantically, looking for something to ground her… the bed, the sheets, and then finally latching on to her breast.

"That's it, Bella. Squeeze those perfect nipples."

She's exquisite.

Perfect.

Mine.

I growl as she pushes her hips into me, milking her orgasm. Draping her legs over my shoulders, I begin pounding into her, the bed squeaking and creaking beneath us as our bodies collide.

Bella's hands find mine at her hips, and she links our fingers, pulling us even closer together.

After a few more quick, short thrusts, the coiling in my stomach snaps, igniting an inferno… white heat shooting out of me, my body succumbing to the pleasure.

Looking down at her—her hair damp around her face, her cheeks tinted pink, her lips still swollen from my kisses—I realize she's ruined me.

Every moment from here on out will be compared to this moment.

I have to have her.

She has to be mine.

I let myself go limp, bracing my body on useless arms to keep from suffocating her. It's hot. We're sweaty. Our breaths are still coming out in steamy pants. I kiss her cheek and then her lips reverently.

"Why me?" she asks, still catching her breath.

Pushing myself up to look at her, bracing my arms on either side of her head, I search for the right words, something to express how I'm feeling without freaking her out.

"Have you ever met someone and just knew that they were different? It's like they called to you… their soul to yours, and you had to be with them, no matter what?"

She nods and reaches up to caress my face, her thumbs brushing under my eyes and over my cheeks.

"I hadn't until yesterday," I confess. "I knew that if I let you walk out and never saw you again, I'd think about you every day, regretting not taking the chance to get to know you."

"Thanks for taking the chance," she says, a sweet smile on her face.

"Thanks for agreeing to a date," I tell her, leaning down to kiss her lips.

She laughs, and I feel it. The movement sends a message to my satiated cock, and it begins to stir. Greedy bastard. I pull out and toss the used condom into the trash can beside my bed.

"I think you got more than a date," she teases.

"I got so much more than a date."

"What now?" she asks.

"Whatever you want," I tell her, kissing her lips lightly. And I mean it.

Pushing my shoulders and forcing me onto my back, she smiles, looming over me. "Now that's a dangerous thing to say."

A/N:

Once again, I'd like to thank Nic and Carrie for hosting a contest that inspires creativity and sparks interest in our fandom. This was my second entry in the Control. Possess. Seduce. Contest. It was a plot bunny that had been sitting around in my documents collecting dust for a couple of years. I decided to blow the dust off and flesh it out and I'm glad I did. It turned into a fun little one-shot. Thanks to everyone who was a part of the contest-hosts, secret keepers, validators, judges, banner maker, creative people, readers-it was awesome.

As always, I have to thank Geeky for being the best beta and Pamela for being a fabulous pre-reader! Love y'all!