Paper Faces - 25. Delight

My eyes are closed, my panting breath passing parched lips as I groan. His hand in my hair tugs harder, snapping my chin up as light blooms behind my eyelids.

His hips are practiced, pressure and rhythm and perfection driving into me again and again. He stretches me, length and breadth pushing to my limit. Breathlessness builds in my gut, absence filling my lungs until I am dizzy, spiraling upward into blissful darkness.

My world is heat and slick heaven. A flick of a wrist. A grunting moan.

Tension building in my thighs as a velvet voice caresses my name.

Paper Faces - 24. Evanescent

Embroidery presses into my knees. My hands grasp his headboard, struggling to hold myself upright as his lips explore my body. I hadn't expected this – tenderness mixed with punishment, soft caresses and reproachful slaps.

Intoxicating.

"How do you know I'm not just living out a high school fantasy of fucking the quarterback?" he mutters, biting the tip of my shoulder.

"I don't," I whisper, my eyes finding his. It is the truth and a lie, for I see the flicker in his eyes.

Hope.

Then it's gone.

His hands flatten against my chest, glide over my abdomen. My lips part.

Paper Faces - 23. Damask

Rough hands slow as we shift onto the bed. Thick embroidered fabric meets my bare skin, soft and silken and completely wrong for him. I am surrounded by lush gold, cold and impersonal.

I wonder just how much in this room speaks to him.

A heavy weight, nude flesh and robust muscle, settles over me, and I don't care.

I don't care that he's lonely. That I am. That he despises me. That this may be the worst decision I've ever made.

He makes me want to live, to feel.

His hips rock, his cock against mine, and I moan.

Paper Faces - 22. Fancy

Our lips move sensually, pressure and absence, parting with the brushing of tongues. We move as one toward the four-poster bed dominating the center of the room.

My back meets a post, and we stop, our energy transferred to frenzied hands working to undress each other. His costume is authentic, an elaborate concoction of laces and toggles that frustrates me at every turn.

I bite his lip with a growl and look down, blessing the man who invented zippers.

He succeeds before I do, but I am the one rewarded as a strong hand wraps around me, squeezing and stroking.

Paper Faces - 21. Sulfur

He is reserved as he leads me up the stairs and down the hall. I feel the tension in his fingertips, the pressure against the small of my back, and I know his control is tenuous.

I wonder what it would take to leave it in shambles like cast off clothing on the floor.

He steps ahead, pushes through a doorway. A rough yank on my wrist pulls me inside; insistent hands press me against the wall.

His smile is so devilish that I smell sulfur and then taste only him.

He is whiskey and chocolate spiced with bad decision.

Paper Faces - 20. Tulip

My body is singing, my pulse drumming with the music as I look around Edward's apartment with new eyes. My mind rebels against the thought of one person owning all of this as my eyes settle on a vase of fresh tulips at the end of the bar.

I seek him out automatically and find him across the room, his head bent low as he whispers to a woman. She cuts her eyes to me and back to him smoothly.

He nods toward Garrett; she nods to him.

His hand is hot on my back when he returns. "Let's go."

Paper Faces - 19. Strap

The ribbon binding the mask to my face snaps with a flick of Edward's wrist. My ear stings, capturing my attention before I realize he is standing right there.

His breath is hot against my cheek, whiskey and promise. His eyes are fixed, locked onto mine, and I wonder what he sees. His eyes reveal confusion and purpose. Resolve.

I marvel at the disappointment that crushes something so very close to my heart.

I don't even know him.

But I want to.

There is no warning. Warm lips claim mine, hard and needy like the want pressed against my hip.