It’s game day and I’m a bundle of nerves, but it’s not because of the game. Masen is all I can think about since waking up this morning from possibly the most erotic dream I’ve ever had starring the bronze-haired god himself. My thoughts are on tonight, where he’s taking me, and where we’ll end up. My mind wanders into dangerous territory all day, and I can’t get him out of my head. It’s starting to seriously interfere with my reason for being in London.
Rose and I are at the stadium in the midst of Arsenal’s regular season game; the press box is alive with the buzz of announcers, reporters, and even some sports agents. The problem is, yesterday’s fiasco on the practice field was witnessed by several photographers and members of the press and as soon as they see me, they rush over for a comment.
“Bella, What was the fight about?”
“Ms. Swan, Are you involved in a love triangle with the two American players?”
“Bella, can you comment on the nature of your relationship with Edward Masen? Witnesses have seen the two of you out alone several times, care to comment?”
“Do you know which team Masen plans to choose?”
I’m completely taken aback. I never thought we would be followed around town; I guess I was stupid or naive. Since I’m a member of the press, I should’ve known this was going to happen
“No comment” I declare and they press on. Just as Rose is guiding me away from the questions, a strong male voice gets their attention, and I’m suddenly forgotten. I turn to see a well-dressed man, tall dark and handsome, you might say. He’s an agent; you can always tell by their mannerisms and gleaming smiles.
“That’s Masen’s and McCarty’s agent, Felix Garcia,” Rose whispers in my ear, “He’s a stand-up guy. I met him last night with Emmett. Masen’s little scuffle with Alec apparently caused a frenzy among the press and he’s good at damage control.”
And he is. He manages to deflect every single question and accusation, bringing the emphasis back to Masen and McCarty and their MLS decision. Brilliant.
The reporters seem to have a short-term memory, because just like that, they’re back to discussing the three American players vying for MLS positions next season, more specifically, Edward Masen. The American teams are practically salivating at the thought of drafting him, and I’m salivating for another reason all together.
I can see him on the field right now, weaving through his opponents, passing the ball to his teammates; he’s already been involved in an assist for their first goal, and the game is tied one-one. The crowd is going insane, and my eyes cannot break away from his muscular form, his determined expression, as I recall the text message he sent me this morning before I left for the stadium.
I’ll be thinking about you all day until I have you next to me tonight. -E.
I keep checking my phone, and re-reading the message over and over again like a thirteen-year-old with her first crush. I don’t realize that I’m grinning like a moron until Rose rolls her eyes at me. But, she can’t say a damn thing because she’s just as “in like” as I am, so I just stick out my tongue at her.
The game is over and I realize if I plan on having enough time to get ready for tonight I should leave now, which means no walking down to the sidelines or the locker room to catch a glance of him. Rose takes me aside briefly as I collect my things to go.
“Hey, Emmett and I are gonna hit a few pubs tonight with some of the other players, why don’t you tag along? There’s gonna be plenty of eye candy” she wiggles her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at me, and I look anywhere but at her face.
“Well, I would, but...I...uh....,” and I say nothing else because apparently Rose can fucking read my mind.
“Masen, right? You’re spending time with him.” It was more of a statement than question.
“Um, yeah...he kinda wants to, uh, take me out to dinner, and um.....”
“You’re gonna sleep with him tonight.” Damn Rose and her intuition.
“Um....maybe?”
Rose snorts, and shakes her head, “Oh, B, you’re up Shit’s Creek without a paddle, my dear. It’s ok....you’ll be fine. This is actually a good thing. I’ve been telling you to give the guy a chance for a long time, and I’m glad you’re finally listening to me. You could do worse; Masen’s a decent guy, and as much as you protest, I know you think so too. Have fun tonight.” And with that, she pats me on the head, gives me a smile and departs for the sidelines.
I decide to send Masen a quick text.
Hey, congrats on the win. You were on fire out there. Couldn’t stay after the game, have a hot date tonight and must prepare. -B
A small smile creeps on my lips after I hit send. A response comes almost seconds later.
Who’s the guy? Make sure he shows you a good time. -E
Oh, just this soccer player who won’t leave me alone. I’m just trying to be nice. -B
Well, you’re too good for him, I’m sure he knows that... -E
Just before I start typing my response, I get another text from him.
I can’t wait to see you. You won’t regret this. I’m counting the minutes. -E
See? That right there....how does he do that? How does he go from cocky bastard to sweet romantic from one moment to the next? It’s driving me crazy, and I’m starting to like it.
Without noticing, I’m back at the hotel with a permanent smile on my face, making my way through the lobby and up to my room. I prepare my long, hot bath complete with soft tunes from my iPod, and sink into the warmth. I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon, back to New York, my life, my job, without Masen. I try to think of something else but my mind just keeps coming back to it. I shouldn’t feel this way; it wasn’t supposed to turn into anything, and now I’m starting to recognize the little butterflies in my stomach. It’s all flooding back to me, including the hurt. I don’t know if I can do this tonight. Maybe I should just call it all off? I can just text him and tell him I’m not feeling well, and get on that plane tomorrow and that will be it. My heart’s intact, and he’ll move on. He’ll get his MLS contract to...wherever, find a nice girl and that will be it.
Only problem is just the thought of him finding another girl is eating away at me.
Realizing that my bath was not as relaxing as I was hoping for, with all the thoughts of Masen being away from me and seeing other women, I make my way out of the bathroom and grab the hotel’s ridiculously soft bathrobe and head to the closet, where my dress hangs. I wasn’t quite sure what I should wear tonight, but I’m going with a classic empire waist dress in a deep purple, with a knee length skirt. It shows just enough skin without giving too much away. I pull my hair up in a high and loose bun, wispy tendrils hanging down the back of my neck. I’m contemplating going commando again, but decide against it, since I don’t want to seam too eager. I decide on a barely-there black lave thong. That should drive him bananas.
It’s just about seven o’clock and I’m ready to go. I reluctantly packed an overnight bag but I’m staring at it like it’s riddled with disease. If I pick it up and take it, I’m pretty much guaranteeing Masen that I’m staying the night, and even though I agreed to it last night, just making that much of a commitment is giving me the willies. There’s a quick, steady knock at my door and I know it’s him; I can totally feel the air change around me and I’m even afraid of touching my door knob. Bella, you are certifiable. Seriously.
I swallow my heart, which has lodged itself in my throat, and open the door. Oh dear God.
His eyes. They are the greenest I’ve ever seen them, like Christmas light green, if that’s even possible. His hair is electric copper, with pieces falling haphazardly across his forehead. I want to run my fingers through it and not let go.
The slight stubble on his jaw just serves to accentuate its sharp edges and as my eyes find their way up to his beautiful lips, he smirks, and I could die right now.
He’s wearing a gray button down dress shirt with thin white stripes and rolled up sleeves, black slacks and shoes. I can see those prominent veins on his forearms that I just want to lick, but before I find myself inching forward, his arms are around my waist. He twirls me around towards the door and uses my body to close it, and I’m surrounded my Masen. His lips connect to mine and all the desire and want and affection and sweetness is translated into this kiss, and I’m too far gone to think right now. My body responds immediately without my consent, as if it has found its missing piece, molding itself against his strong frame.
We break away from our kiss to breathe but Masen doesn’t stop. His lips make their way down my neck to my shoulder, to my collarbone and I’m done. I mean, who really needs to eat dinner? Not me...no sir.
His kisses start to slow and become sweeter, more adoring and I think this is doing more to my girly parts than the all-consuming kiss seconds before.
“I missed you,” is all he murmurs against the hollow at the base of my neck, finally raising his face and gaze to me. I’ve never seen this particular expression and I don’t know what to make of it. It’s almost...adoration?
No...It couldn’t be. I’m going insane.
“I missed you too. You look....really good.” Understatement of the millennium. He looks fucking fantastic.
“Well, you look absolutely stunning...this dress,” he eyes me up and down, and up again to my eyes, sighing, “...this dress makes your skin glow....like an angel. You ready to go?”
I’m sorry, what?
I’m hypnotized, and I can’t breathe.
“Swan? You ok? You’re probably starving, let’s go.” He gently takes my hand, and the buzz I always feel when he touches me breaks me out of my haze.
“Oh, yeah, I’m ready...let me grab my stuff.” I take my purse and pashmina wrap and realize the overnight bag is sitting my by the door...
Oh....to take it...or not to take it.....to take it...or not to take it.
I could just pretend I don’t see it, and ‘accidentally’ leave it behind, then I...
“Hey, this your bag? You almost forgot it, I’ll take it for you.”
Alright then....I guess that answers my question. My heart’s back in my throat.
~*~*~*~EtS~*~*~*~
The drive to the restaurant is short and silent for the most part. We chat about little things; about how the bistro he picked out is his favorite in the city, the game today, the weather. Somehow we both manage to avoid the topic of me leaving tomorrow, like if it’s not spoken of, it’s not happening. I know better.
He’s right; this little bistro is fantastic. They guide us over to a small booth in the far corner with lots of privacy. It’s super quiet and perfect for the way we just like to be. The food is magnificent, the wine manages to put both of at ease, we talk about our friends back home, our favorite memories from college, and it’s comfortable...too comfortable.
Towards desert, he inches closer to me, delivering sweet, short kisses below my ear and down my neck and on my lips. Not a lot is said, and we don’t need to talk. There’s no such thing as awkward silences with us. My hands start to fist through his hair as our kisses become more passionate, more fiery, the tiramisu and wine mingling on our tongues. One of my hands lowers itself down his chest and stomach, finally finding its home against the hardening bulge beneath his pants. The gesture makes him moan into my mouth and I suddenly want to hump him right there for all the patrons to see. He breaks away abruptly and flags down our waiter for the check. Without another word he moves so I can stand and we can’t get out of the restaurant fast enough. He pulls me behind him out the front door and into his waiting car.
The ride to his flat is silent again, but this time the buzz is loud and electric, and I swear you can almost see the sparks between us. We both take quick glances at each other while he drives...rather swiftly, mind you... and the feeling between my legs is almost unbearable. I want this man....I want him.
He quickly parks the car jogs to my side to open my door. I reach for his hand and he pulls me out, but pushes me against the car, greedily devouring my mouth as his hands roam my body. I can feel him hard against my stomach and my hand reaches down to touch him. I want to drive him mad. I want this. This time, I break away, our lungs gasping for oxygen.
“Let’s go inside,” I whisper against his lips. He nods against my forehead and reaches for my overnight bag, taking my hand and pulling us into the elevator.
Us and elevators...you do the math.
Our assault on each other continues in the elevator and I’m already at the edge of release as his hand reaches under my dress and slips between my folds over my thong.
“Shit!” I exclaim and he groans into my neck.
“What are you wearing, Swan? I’m dying to see this...I feel lace,” he murmurs while his hand explores my ass to discover the little tiny piece of material between my cheeks.
“FUCK....you’re trying to kill me, Swan, I swear it...I want you so bad....so much....so much.”
Just then the doors open and he’s pulling me to his penthouse door, fumbling with his keys while still trying to fondle me anyway he can. It’s quite funny actually...we must look like bumbling idiots...no grace, no suave movements, just flailing hands and legs and bags, and it’s wonderful.
As soon as he kicks the door shut everything is dropped to the floor and I’m once again pushed against the wall, his hands gripping my hips and he grinds deliciously against me. Our lips are now permanently attached to each other and my hands frantically search for every touchable piece of him. If I’m not careful, he’ll fuck me right here...
And I wouldn’t give a fucking damn.
Something stops him though, and soon, he’s taking his time with me, slowly slipping the spaghetti straps of my dress down to my shoulder, and kissing it gently, almost in reverence. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I need to move this right along. I start unbuttoning his shirt quickly, and try to sweep it off his shoulders when I feel his hands stop me and gently squeeze mine. He lays his jade gaze upon me and I stare wide-eyed, in shock.
“Hey, what’s the rush? We have all night,” he smirks and I’m melting. The idea of fucking all night sends tremors up and down my body. Damn him.
I stand and stare, not knowing what to do, but he does. He quietly takes my hand and walks backwards, leading me to his bedroom, and it’s like I’m under his spell. This is not me...this is not Bella Swan, Player of the Year. I’m suddenly Bella Swan, swooning teenager...weak...powerless. But I embrace it now, because this is what this man does to me. I can finally accept it. And with that, comes acceptance that my heart will break. But right now, I have this....we have this.
The windows overlook the West End skyline, and it’s a clear night, lights twinkling all around. I look to Masen, and his eyes have the same twinkle as the lights outside, and I’m lost in them. His expression is the same as when he picked me up earlier: completely indescribable. Adoring.
I stand in front of him, completely paralyzed while he slowly, gently, wraps his arms around me. I feel his fingers brush up against my spine as I hear the zipper of my dress. I close my eyes to savor the sensations all around me. I smell him; clean, musky, male. It’s intoxicating. His lips are feathers against my shoulder and his hands graze my lower back as my dress slips to the floor. He steps away to gaze up and down my body.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful....just.....fucking beautiful.”
It makes me smile shyly....ME....shy? Yeah.
Closing my eyes again, I feel him come closer as he takes my bra off, tossing it aside. His warm hands purposefully splay across my back as he brings me closer to him, and I feel his breath on my neck. At this point, I’ve done nothing but stand there absorbing all the different sensations he’s bringing forth, so when I feel his tongue slowly glide from my neck to the valley between my breasts, my hands automatically move to their rightful place, grabbing and tangling themselves in his hair. I let out a soft moan and his hands grip me harder. His mouth moves over my skin, leaving a hot trail of goosebumps in its wake, and I can’t take it anymore; my hips move of their own accord and grind against his hardness, trying desperately to find friction to ease the building need.
“Please...oh please....fuck...,” it’s all I can say.
Masen growls against my chest and pushes me towards the bed, and when my calves come into contact with the edge, I gain enough strength to pull him down with me until he’s hovering over me. His mouth continues to claim every me and at the moment his teeth gently bite on my nipple, my back arches and my breath hitches.
“Oh God! Yes!” I’m losing control quickly, and when I feel his hand slide down my side and under the string of my thong, I practically come right there from the mere thought of what’s about to happen. Before he pushes it down he stops everything and looks down at the slip of lace around my thighs.
“Holy shit....I told you I wanted to see these on you. Baby, you are unreal,” and with that, he forcefully pulls them away from my body and I’m left bare...in more ways than one.
“I thought you would approve,” I whisper in his ear as he returns to lavish his tongue on my nipples once again. One of his hands caresses my inner thigh until it reaches where I need him most, and without much fanfare he presses his fingers against my slit and circles my entrance, coating himself in my arousal before slipping them toward my clit. My hips buckle.
“Fuuuuuuuckk....”
“Baby, you so fucking wet, you’re ready for me....you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he breathes as he finally plunges his fingers inside me and I yelp in surprise; it’s a pleasurable pain and I can’t get enough. His fingers pump several times while my hand seeks out his hardened cock. It’s perfect; steel silk against my fingers and as I graze his wet tip, he flinches and gasps, but also manages to curl his fingers against the spot that will completely undo me.
“Baby! Baby, I’m coming! Oh God! Unffffffffffffff!” I yell as my walls contract against his talented fingers. He continues to pump as I ride out my orgasm.
“That’s it, baby, just let go...just let go...” he mutters against my mouth, and I finally come down and kiss him passionately. His fingers leave me and I sigh at the loss of contact, but when he brings his wet fingers to his mouth, my insides stir again.
“Mmmmm, you taste so good, baby,” I don’t let him finish his sentence, gripping his hair and pulling him towards me, our lips connecting as my tongue seeks his mouth. I can taste myself and it sends me into a euphoric haze. But he’s not done with me yet...not by a long shot.
“Take off your clothes,” I demand, and he doesn’t waste time following orders. He’s completely naked and I take a moment to marvel at the perfection that is Masen’s body. He’s hard....everywhere, and my hands take an appreciative tour of every plane and every muscle from his shoulders down to his abs and finally to his beautiful cock. I wrap my hand around it and pump once, for effect, of course.
“I want you inside me right now, Masen....NOW.”
He nods in understanding and goes for the nightstand drawer to pull out a foil packet but I stop him.
“No, I want to feel all of you.” He looks confused, worried.
“Baby, are you sure? I mean, I get tested all the time, I’m clean...but...”
“So am I, and I’m on the pill....I trust you.”
And there it is.
The ‘T’ word. It’s been a long time since I’ve uttered that word to a man.
“No, baby, I want you to open your eyes and look at me....look at me, Bella.”
I’ve never heard him say my name, my first name, and at the sound of it from his lips I melt...it’s too much, but I love it. I open my eyes, and see his hooded stare: so much want, so much need, so much....no....I can’t even go there.
He starts to move...slowly, establishing a rhythm that allows him to watch me, and I can’t look away from him. I’ve never connected with any man like this...it’s foreign, but completely right. My hands wrap around his shoulders as his hand grasps at my hip, then lower to grab my thigh, hitching it over his waist, and he goes deeper, fall deeper.
“Oh....like that....oh god, harder...please.....harder...I need you....”
He gains tempo and starts to slam into me as I meet him at every thrust...his eyes close tightly, and I can tell he’s close. Now I need to see him.
“Open your eyes, Masen, please, I want to see you...” Where did that come from?
His eyes fly open suddenly and he glances down at our connection. He looks so hot doing that. My own eyes travel to where our bodies are connected and I’m having a really hard time holding on. I don’t want this to end, and if I come now, it will end...all of it...
“Bella, you’re mine....you’re mine, do you understand? Tell me, say my name again, I need you to Say. My. Name,” he commands, before reaching his hand down and pressing pressing lightly on my clit...but not enough to finish me. He wants me to say it. Oh God....can I say it?
“Oh God! Yes! I’m yours, Edward...only yours...only you!”
He circles the bundle of nerves one last time, pressing down more firmly this time, and I suddenly come violently and hard.
“Ohhhhh!!! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Edddwaarddd!”
What.
The.
Fuck.
The moment he hears me scream his name, he lets out a feral growl and drops his head to my shoulder, biting my neck, but not enough to break the skin.
“Oh, Bella, baby...I’m coming, you’remakingmecome!” His rhythm falters and he thrusts erratically, collapsing his weight on me.
His body feels incredible on me: his warmth, his breath, his heartbeat against me. Like a blanket. I feel secure, safe, and utterly spent.
The fact that I screamed his name is not lost on me...not one bit. My mind goes one hundred miles an hour, and he can sense it because he lifts his head, and leans his weight onto his forearm, to lift himself from me slightly. His other hand caresses my cheek, moving my hair away from my face.
“Don’t.” He whispers softly. I almost don’t hear him at all.
“Hmmm?”
“Don’t over-think this, Bella. It is what it is. Just be. Remember...just be with me,” he whispers as he looks deep into my eyes...and I can see it in his eyes...yes I know now what it is....but I won’t say it. I won’t. I can’t.
I close my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing his lips to mine, kissing softly as he settles on his side and brings his arm across my stomach, pulling me towards him. I’m in heaven.
I’m in too deep.
~*~*~*~EtS~*~*~*~
The sun creeps through the blinds and I reluctantly open one eye to assess my surroundings. I’m totally comfortable and warm, and I realize it’s because Masen’s body is flush against mine in the most wonderful way. His chest is once again pressed against my back, his arms protectively around my waist, his hand across my stomach. I can feel his heart steadily beating, and I nearly fall asleep again at the quiet lull of his breath on my neck.
Last night had been amazing; we stayed up practically the whole night, not able to get enough of each other. It was sometimes hard and fast, and other times he took his time, almost worshipping my body. It’s something I’ve never experienced, but I’m already addicted, I need more. Just more.
The way we connected last night, it was almost like...he was...making love to me.
Almost.
Now, I have to make a break for it. I can’t stay and watch him wake up with me next to him. I can’t do it, because it would force me to face feelings and emotions that I am not prepared to deal with. I gently move my body until I am flat on my back. His arm reflexively tightens his hold on me, his hot exhalations creating goosebumps again on my skin. I glance at his beautiful face, a face I know I have to say goodbye to, so I stare and stare, memorizing each imperfection, his perfect lips, his strong jaw covered in scruff, tendrils of his messy hair covering his closed eyes. I memorize all of it, and I file it away within in a corner of my heart.
When time runs out, I realize I need to get to the airport. I very carefully maneuver my way out of his grasp, watching him move and grab my pillow. I take a moment to appreciate the strong lines of his shoulders, back, and the top of his very perfect ass, the rest of it slightly covered by the sheets. I smile to myself, memorizing those thing too. I bend down to kiss his temple, careful not to wake him. This is it, this is all I have left of us, and now it’s time for me to go. Better to leave without saying goodbye; my emotions are too strong and just looking into his eyes after last night would be too much for me.
I grab a pen and pad off the kitchen counter and write him a note. It’s the least I can do, and I don’t want him to think that I bailed, even though that’s exactly what I’m doing. I hope my words will express all that I wish for him to understand.
Dear Edward,
You looked way too comfortable for me to wake you. I want you to know how much last night meant to me. Thank you for making me feel special last night. It was a night I will never ever forget. Please don’t be mad at me for leaving without saying goodbye. I don’t do well with goodbyes, and I’d rather remember the good times we had together than seeing sadness in your eyes... they’re too beautiful...you’re too beautiful for sadness.
I won’t forget you...not in a million years.
Good luck on your MLS contract, you deserve it all.
Yours,
Bella
PS- If you’re ever in New York, look me up.
I quietly make my way to the bathroom with my overnight bag, taking a quick shower and hoping he wouldn’t wake up before I have the chance to leave. After exiting the bathroom, I glance over to see he is still out cold; I’d worn him out. I grin at the thought and gather my things. I place the note on the nightstand next to his phone, and take another moment to run my fingers through his hair. I can’t control my actions at that moment, and I bend down, touching my lips to his cheek. He stirs but never wakes. I smile again and close the door behind me, steeling myself to return to my real life back home where there are no cafe mornings, no great conversations, and no Edward.
Yes, I said his name. Edward. My Edward. Except, he’s not mine, never was...never will be.
~*~*~*~EtS~*~*~*~
Rose meets me at the airport and everything I do is on autopilot. I can only think of him. For a moment, I feel bad that I’m not paying attention to a word anyone is saying, especially her, but as I take a glance at her, I realize she’s going through the motions just like me. Leaving Emmett must be just as difficult for Rose, and I place my hand over hers as we’re sitting, waiting for our seats to be called. We don’t have to say anything; we both know.
As I’m getting situated on the plane, my phone alerts me of a text message. I’m almost afraid to look, but I figure I better since I’ll be asked to turn it off any moment for the duration of the flight. I look to see that it is, in fact, him.
I wish you would’ve woken me up. I wish I could’ve seen your beautiful face before you left. I wish I could’ve told you. I miss you already. -E
My eyes become blurry and wetness spills over the corners of my eyes. I blink rapidly to hide the tears; I don’t need Rose or anyone else asking questions. “I wish I could’ve told you”? What is he talking about? Told me what?
I sit back and think for the rest of the flight. I don’t know what we ate, I don’t know what movies we saw, I don’t know what Rose talked about, but I do know that I’m his. I’ll always be his. Nothing- no one, will ever hold a candle to my Edward. But, he’s not mine, and it’s this thought that finally causes the tears to fall.
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