Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer & Little Brown Publishing own all rights
In the past, my lovers had been slow. Gentle. Considerate. Treating me as much as a lady in the bedroom as they had in the street. It had been lovely.
It had been boring.
Edward was not boring. Edward was anything but boring. I knew this from the moment I saw him at the diner. Confirmed it while he held me as I shed tears for my father. Couldn’t resist it when we danced at the Gala.
He was everywhere. Surrounding me and spurring me on with his hands, mouth, and body on every part of my body. In my life, I had never felt so overpowered before.
I liked it. I wanted it.
The slow burn that had been building between us the entire week had finally ignited. It was obvious we were both about to be consumed. Apparently the dress I had picked for the Gala called to him, making him abandon ship and jump toward the rocks. I felt powerful for being able to do that. Whoever said women were the weaker sex completely underestimated the power inherent in driving a man to such behavior. In that moment, he was mine to control. Sure, men believed that they had the upper hand when it came to me. Not just in the bedroom but everywhere. I liked to make them feel like they did, like they were in control. But usually? I was the one manipulating things. The control was all mine, and they did my bidding without even realizing. I had always had a keen understanding of my sexuality, my power over men. I used it to my advantage and made it work for me. Those men didn’t know how to tame me and they sure as hell didn’t make me feel like this.
To bed this man was dangerous. Our personalities were both strong and overpowering, two fighters battling to see who would come out on top. From the moment we locked eyes in the diner until we locked limbs on the dance floor, it was apparent that we would ultimately battle in the bedroom. We fought for control and I was winning and losing, all at the same time. He was a delicious challenge, one that made me want to work my best to make him mine. He didn’t seem like he was one that would easily be owned, which made me want him that much more.
I pushed him back onto the bed and slid up and over his body. My eyes roamed over him and took in everything. I shall be on top. I smirked down at him, leaning toward his face and tracing the line of his jaw with my tongue. He let out a low groan, grabbed my hips and started to twist his pelvis in an effort to flip me under him, but I had the upper hand. I encircled his wrists with my fingers and brought his hands up over his head, delighting in the shocked expression that danced across his face as I pinned him to the mattress. I led my hands lightly down his arms as my greedy fingers searched for the edge of his undershirt. Once found, I tugged at it, desperate to be rid of the thin layer of fabric separating us. I let him up just enough for me to work it up his torso and over his head, pressing myself against him the moment his skin was bare. While I had my arms over his head, his mouth lowered and caught my left nipple. He nibbled lightly on it with his teeth before peppering it with kisses. Wanton moans escaped my mouth and, if I hadn’t been so caught up in the moment, I might have blushed. I’d never felt like this before. Strong and uncontrollable desire rose from deep within me. Sensing a moment of weakness, he was able to flip us. He was loomed over me, eyes smoldering with want.
“So you liked the dress, hmmm?” I asked as his eyes watched my lips move.
Leaning forward, his lips caught mine. “I liked the dress,” he affirmed. “I like you, with or without the dress. Right now? Without.”
His hand snaked down and in one fluid motion, he pushed off his underwear. My panties were the only thing between us and we both reached toward them, hands fighting hands, fighting satin, battling to remove the last shred of clothing separating us. He was victorious as he pushed the panties down over my long legs and flung them carelessly over his shoulder. Then, slowly, cat-like, he crawled up my body. His mouth licked and sucked the smooth flesh of my legs as he moved up my body. His nose grazed my knee and I felt the short stubble from his chin scratch against my inner thigh, the roughness against my smooth skin reminding me of his gruff manliness. Clutching his hair in my hands, I wove my fingers through the mess on top of his head, the Brylcreem not able to contain it. It made my hands slick, but I was still able to grab fistfuls of hair.
I expected him to continue his way up my body, worshiping me with his mouth.
However, one thing I had learned in the time I’d spent with Edward Cullen was that I should never expect anything.
Worship me with his mouth, he did. The heat of his breath hovered between my legs and I tried, in vain, to pull him up my body with his hair. The Brylcreem made that next to impossible. No one had ever done this to me before. I felt him slowly shake his head, preventing me from pulling him away. The stubble lightly grazed the apex of my legs and made my entire body tremble in anticipation.
I felt his breath, hotly whispering around me. In me. My body shook as I struggled to hold on.
“Rosie, you gotta let go of that control. Let me rule you for once. Like you’ve ruled me the past week. Like you ruled me tonight in the ridiculously sexy dress,” he breathed out. His tongue jutted out of his mouth and into the most intimate of places on my body. I gasped at the contact and, despite myself, felt my legs open wider to grant him access. His hand ran under my leg, thigh to ankle, and he moved it so it rested on his shoulder. Oh! He then moved the same hand down and started petting me with his fingers as his mouth continued to do things that in the past might have made me blush just thinking about.
My mind grew fuzzy and my body was growing hotter and hotter. I pulsed with waves of pleasure brought on by Edward’s mouth. His tongue moved like the waves on the shore, pushing forward and then receding, only to rush forward yet again a moment later. It was driving me wild. I grappled at his shoulders, finally able to pull his face up and off of me. I needed him. Not his mouth. Him. Tugging at him, he moved up the bed and laid his head on my pillows, next to me.
I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I certainly didn’t want him to think I was backing down from his offer. Reaching over, I removed the prophylactic from my nightstand that I had noticed he placed there while he thought I wasn’t looking. Holding it between my index and middle fingers, I waggled it back and forth. “Am I that much of a sure thing?”
Propping his head up on one hand and slowly running a finger down my side with the other, he smiled slowly. “Well, I do have you in your bed, don’t I?”
“Technically speaking, I believe I have you in my bed.” I smiled a soft smile while I looked at the paper slip that held the condom. I read the words “Devil Skin” and couldn’t contain my full smirk. How appropriate. I opened the edge of the paper that held the condom and slid it out, gingerly.
“Can I…” I trailed off, not entirely sure how to ask. I hadn’t done this before. But, I reasoned, tonight had been a night for firsts. I felt the color flood not only my cheeks, but my entire body. I noticed him watching me and my blush and it only resulted in more of a blush.
He knew exactly what I wanted to do without me finishing the thought. He was gentleman enough not to make me say it, but wanton enough to show me how. Taking my hands into his, he brought them down to his penis, showing me what to do and hissing at the touch of my tentative fingers rolling it down his shaft.
“What you do to me, Rosie,” he growled as he got up on his hands and knees, hovering over me.
He pulled my legs apart and knelt between them, running his hands down the length of them before wrapping them around his hips. Grabbing my ass he pulled me toward him before positioning himself and slowly pushed inside of me. I gasped at the feeling; me consuming him, him consuming me. Joined together as one, we started to move. I could tell he was trying to go slowly, to allow my body some time to adjust to him.
I didn’t want slow. All I ever knew was going slow and that’s not what we were about. It was laughable for us to even consider slow.
I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him. “You need to move faster.”
“Always so fucking demanding,” he admonished, all the while moving at a faster, more frenzied pace. He hands were placed on both sides of my head and the biceps in his arms were taut as he held his upper body up over me. Our lower bodies danced together, the feel of his hips upon mine was sublime. He bought me. Owned me. Possessed me.
He moved his right arm below my back, cradling me to him and shifting his angle so that he was thrusting further into me. My senses were on overload. My body couldn’t get close enough to his and my head fell back. He attacked my neck, sucking along the exposed skin there. My breasts pushed forward, demanding attention as well. He did not disappoint and bent his neck slightly, sucking and nipping at them. His thrusting movements never slowed as our hips moved in time together.
“Fuck, Rosalie. You feel so good and you smell… amazing. You always smell amazing. I can’t get enough of you.”
Faster still, we moved together. Our bodies, primal and wild, rushed toward our imminent release. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer to me, if it were possible. And it was, in the deepest darkest places of my being.
Then we both cried out, our lusty calls breaking the quiet of the house. My body clenched around him just before he let out a low, guttural groan, throwing his head back. He fell on top of me, exhausted. I felt as though I might float away yet the weight of him laying on top of me kept me anchored. He held me down and gave the night a feeling of reality it might not have had otherwise. I buried my nose in his hair, kissing the top of his forehead.
“I’ll be right back, sweetness. Don’t move a muscle.” He got up and made his way to the bathroom. No problem there. I don’t think I could move if I tried. After a few moments, he reappeared. Naked as the day he was born, he bent over his discarded jacket and plucked his cigarette pack and lighter from the breast pocket. After lighting up, he found an ashtray by the radio. He placed it on the nightstand, along with his lighter and cigarettes, next to his wallet and the empty prophylactic wrapper.
“Now I’ll be right back,” I said, as I quickly headed to the bathroom, watching him settle onto the bed over my shoulder. Running the water in the sink basin, I pulled my hair back and quickly washed my face. Smiling, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I had never felt so alive.
I quickly finished in the bathroom and considered throwing on the silk robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. Instead, I walked out of the bathroom, both body and face naked. I watched him watching me walk toward the bed. His smile widened as I drew near and he said, “There’s my Rosie,” almost to himself. He made room for me on the bed once more, but only enough that I could lay down flush against him. My skin against his. I settled in next to him and he took a long drag of his cigarette. Reaching over, I took the cigarette from his hand. Gazing at me questioningly, I could tell he was perplexed, until I took a puff of the cigarette myself. Slowly I drew the smoke into my lungs before pushing it out of my mouth.
“You want one?” he offered, starting to move off the bed to get the pack.
I tugged his arm back, not wanting him to be anywhere but right there beside me. “No, I like yours.” Handing it back to him, I rested my head on his chest, listening as the rhythmic beat of his heart matched with “Stardust” playing on the radio. “You’re staying, right?” I asked drowsily, as I snuggled into his arm.
“Nowhere I’d rather be, Rosalie.”
Satisfied, my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.
That fist full of trouble that I knew was coming had just laid me flat out on her satin covered, king sized bed. The crazy thing was I was ready to get right back up and be her punching bag.
“Now I’ll be right back,” she murmured before sauntering to the bathroom. After a moment I heard the water running through the pipes.
I sat upright on the bed, my back resting on a mountain of creamy slick satin pillows, and lazily enjoyed my smoke, which always perfectly complimented the after effects of really fucking good sex. A few minutes later, I heard the water shut off and my eyes flew to the bathroom door, where she emerged, gloriously nude and completely free. She’d washed off the mask of make-up that, at first, had tricked me into thinking that she was average in all the ways that mattered.
“There’s my Rosie,” I said as she crawled back into the bed and draped herself next to me. Once she was comfortable, she plucked the cigarette from my fingers and took a long pull. I’d never seen her smoke until that moment, and I was distracted by the way her full lips caressed the thin white paper as they puckered sinfully around the thin cigarette.
“You want one?” I offered and started towards my pack. Because I can watch that all night.
“No, I like yours,” she said and pulled me back down. I smiled at her confession despite myself. She handed the cigarette back to me and settled herself pleasantly against me, her head resting on my chest.
“You’re staying, right?” she asked, half sleepy, half hopeful.
“Nowhere I’d rather be, Rosalie,” I promised and she snuggled closer. It wasn’t long before I heard her, very softly and very adorably, snoring.
As I reached over and tapped my cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, I wondered why I wasn’t looking for an excuse to escape her bedroom. I didn’t usually sleep with dames; it set…expectations. But Rosalie wasn’t the average girl either. When we had first met, I’d pegged her wrong. I’d assumed she was like so many other beautiful girls, all looks and no substance. No smarts. No spirit. They had been boring. Boring on a date, and really fucking boring in the sack.
Tonight confirmed what I had begun to suspect all week, that Rosalie wasn’t just any dame.
Rosalie was a woman. With heart and brains and looks, a deadly, heartbreaking combination to be sure.
And fucking demanding, don’t forget that, Cullen. I chuckled, remembering her complaint that I wasn’t screwing her fast enough.
I smiled again, recalling when she climbed on top of me and pinned my hands to the bed. She wanted it, and she wasn’t afraid to show me exactly how much. No meek, shy glances followed by inexperienced hands and cold fish served up on a platter. Not from my Rosie. She burned, from the inside out; she smoldered. Even when I did things that her furious blush told me she hadn’t done before, she let go enough to let me dominate her, which I imagined is a pretty big fucking deal for Rosalie Hale. I had to admit that she had dominated me too. I also had to admit that I likedit. Tonight, we had come together and been equals. I didn’t realize it until now, but we had been equals all along, too similar in nature to be anything else. Both strong-willed and used to getting our way.
She certainly had her way with you. I smiled and took a long pull on my smoke.
While I was being honest with myself, I might as well admit that I liked her. I liked her perfume and her courage. I liked her honesty and her flirty little dresses that drove me absolutely and irrationally wild. But above all of that, I liked having her around. She calmed my temper and anchored me, and I knew I could use more of that in my life.
She played her part at the Gala perfectly and proved she could handle herself with calm grace, which was more than I could say for my own behavior this evening, and I had to admit I was proud of her. She’d gotten some information that might be helpful, but I didn’t want to mull it over now and ruin the moment. Tomorrow, I bargained with myself as I snuffed out my cigarette. When I reached toward the ashtray, I disrupted her sleep and she moved to turn her back to me. I lifted the satin sheet off my hip and slid down beside her, her back to my front. With one finger I pulled a few stray curls of her hair off of her neck and around to her back. She sighed contentedly and I brought my lips to her bare shoulder as I wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Goodnight, Rosie,” I breathed against her skin before kissing her shoulder softly and laying my head on the satin-covered pillow beside hers. Within minutes, the scent of roses and the radio playing “Stardust” lulled me to sleep.
I woke up the next morning, alone, and it was really fucking bright as the morning sunlight lit up her white bedroom. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked around expecting to see Rosalie somewhere, but my gaze was met with nothing but a big, empty, cold bed.
I threw the satin sheet off of me and stood up with every intention of getting dressed, but then I remembered all I had to wear was that stupid fucking tuxedo. I groaned as I started plucking my carelessly disrobed garments off the floor and putting them on. I left the cummerbund on the bed for Rosie. I didn’t need it at the moment and I might as well leave it here. I planned to come back later today to return the tux. Once I got home and was able to change into my own clothes.
I went to the nightstand, picking up my pack of Lucky Strikes. I shook one out and lit it while I scratched my head and I looked around, wondering where in the hell I threw my cuff links.
Only one way to find them, I sighed, as I dropped to my knees to begin the search.
I felt like an idiot, crawling around on all fours like a dog, pawing through the thick shag of the white carpet, hoping to find both my little silver Cullen family crest cuff links. I vaguely recalled tossing them somewhere close to the wall, somewhere between pinning her against it and helping her lose that fucking dress. My mouth twisted into a smile at the memory of her hands tangling in my Brylcreem coated hair and her surrender to me, before forcing me to surrender to her.
Wouldn’t be opposed to an encore of that performance.
“Are you looking for something, Mr. Cullen?” I heard Emily ask from behind me. I was too busy thinking about Rosie to notice that she had entered the room.
I ran my hand through my hair and grinned sheepishly at her. “My cuff links,” I admitted.
“And you think they might be on the floor?” she asked innocently as she got down on the carpet beside me and smiled. Wise girl. A maid who knows when to turn the other cheek and not ask questions was worth her weight in gold.
“I think they might be,” I confessed and winked at her. She stifled a laugh and we resumed the search. Within a few minutes, she had found one by the vanity, and I had found the other near the wall in the corner of the room.
“Maybe the nightstand would be a safer place for these,” she hinted as she dropped the one she had found in my hand.
“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that. Where is Rosalie?”
“She’s at breakfast, with Mr. Jasper,” she answered.
“Thanks, Emily, you’re a doll,” I said and smiled genuinely at her before she went back down the stairs.
A good egg, that one.
I went back to the nightstand to retrieve the rest of my personal effects. I knew I wasn’t going to see much of Rosalie today. My detective duties sorely needed my attention, but I knew that she, and last night’s events, would be on my mind all day. For some fucking unfathomable reason, I wanted her to think of me, too. I drew out two smokes from my pack and laid them on the nightstand for her. Even if she didn’t think of me, my thoughts of her luscious lips wrapped around my Lucky Strike would be enough to keep me…motivated.
I left the bedroom to make my way to the breakfast table. As I approached the dining room, I could hear a male voice tinged with a tone of concerned suspicion. I stepped into the room, eyeing the man with honey blond curls and dark blue eyes, who I could only assume was Jasper, as I softly planted a kiss on Rosie’s golden crown. I felt her stiffen under my lips and I pulled away, searching her face for any sign of trouble. She looked…uncomfortable, perhaps even annoyed?
“Jasper, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Cullen,” she said, and nervously wrung her hands.
“Nice to finally meet you, Jasper, thanks for loaning me the tux,” I said and stuck my hand out in friendship. He hesitated for a split second before meeting his palm to mine and shaking vigorously.
“Anytime,” he returned warmly, “you’re a detective, Rosalie tells me. Must be an interesting line of work,” he continued, and took his seat again.
I started to pull out a chair as I answered him. “It can be interesting, if the clients are interesting,” I said and glanced at Rosie, but before I could sit down and serve myself a big helping of the scrambled eggs and bacon steaming on the table in front of me, Rosalie spoke up.
“Shall I have Emmett drive you home, Mr. Cullen?” she said coolly, as she served herself another portion of fruit salad.
Mr. Cullen? What the hell?
I got the hint that I was being dismissed and pushed the chair back into it’s spot under the table. “No thanks, Rosie, I’ll take a cab,” I said. I had no desire to duke it out in a silent cockfight with Emmett from the backseat of the limo.
“Suit yourself,” she shrugged carelessly. “Emily, would you please get Mr. Cullen his coat and call him a cab,” she requested, as if it were an everyday occurrence. She cast her eyes down to the table, picking up her coffee and taking a big unladylike gulp.
Uh-huh…that’s what I thought, I smirked. I should have realized it would be awkward for her, my meeting Jasper under these circumstances.
Once she pulled the cup away from her lips, I put my finger under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her to look me in the eye.
“I’ll be seeing you, Rosie. Sooner rather than later,” I promised with a murmur. I winked at her and I didn’t give her a chance to reply. I simply turned on my heel, stopped to take an apple from the fruit bowl and left.