Kiss Me Now, Kiss Me Never

Morning After

Bella

Holymotherfuckinghell! I stretched slowly, feeling my sore muscles contract, causing me to moan out softly. God, I was sore in all the right places and thankfully not overly so in all the wrong places. I had never participated in three hours of fucking. Not that I was going to tell the cocky bastard that. He'd probably try to outdo it.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, alerting me of the time. Fucking shit. I had never managed to spend the night at someone's house after having sex all night long.

It was one of my cardinal rules. Don't fall asleep where I fuck.

It was the rule that was right behind the no-kissing thing. I groaned internally, kicking myself for spending the night in this big comfy bed with rich Egyptian cotton sheets.

Oh, my tush loves the feel of these sheets over my skin.

I rolled to my side, but I met an obstruction. Correction – a fucking protrusion. Edward's morning wood.

I'd never seen a prettier dick in my entire existence as a sexual deviant. Pretty sounded too girly, though. Wonderfully, long, thick manscaped cock sounded better.

Now, that was a mouthful – literally.

I tugged on the sheet that covered the rest of his body from my inspection. God, his body was to die for. He had six-pack abs, his torso was long and lean, creating the perfect V leading to his groin, and his biceps were thick, but not overly so. He must have to work out daily to maintain a body like his.

Then again, if he fucked like the night before, three days a week, that would be enough of a workout. How hot was it when a man could hold you up against the wall with his cock and still have the use of his hands?

Fucking – scorching – hot.

While admiring Edward's sparkly peen (he had pre-cum at the tip), it fucking twitched at me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it winked at me. Jesus H, was that thing possessed?

His dick twitched again. Why the hell was his dick twitching? Was he dreaming about fucking? I'd bet he could fuck in his sleep.

Sleepfucking – there was a new concept.

"Enjoying the show?" the cocky bastard asked, his voice thick with sleep. His abs contracted from his laughter, and I poked him in the gut.

"Hardly," I teased. "It's not worth the price of admission."

He growled and rolled on top of me. I squealed when he went straight for the nipples. Guys always went straight to the pretty barbells; they were shiny new toys to them. I hissed when his wicked teeth bit and pulled at one of my peaks.

"Baby, I'm committed to making sure you have the best show experience," he said huskily. He ground his cock between my thighs, and I moaned from need again. "How about a double feature?"

My eyes widened. Fuck, he planned to make me come two more times. Was he fucking insane?

I should've thought about increasing my insurance policy to a cool million. Death by Edward-induced orgasms. What a way to go.

Please don't let Emmett decide what's on my gravestone.

Here lies Isabella Swan

Beloved daughter, friend,

Erotic Writer

Death by Egasms

She came and went too soon.

"I promise high-def quality screams," he said, continuing like a fucking cocksucker. "So loud and hard you'll feel your body tremble." He teased by grinding his erection against my entrance. "And at the end of the first show, don't expect an intermission," he growled, and then he slammed into me.