Paper Faces - 31. Envelope

I've had ill-conceived, illicit encounters before and walked away without looking back, but there's something different here.

He is something different.

I can't decide if it's only my guilt or something more that tells me so.

I push away the extravagant covers and swing my feet to the floor, idly noting that the fireplace is cold – like the rest of the room.

Like me.

I look around on the floor for my clothes, but they are not there. I find them folded neatly, stacked in an armchair on the other side of the nightstand.

An envelope is balanced on top.

Paper Faces - 30. Brick

The certainty that I am alone settles into my skin before I even open my eyes. I can feel the difference, the absence. I sigh, rolling onto my back and pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes in a vain attempt to hold onto the vitality of last night.

My arms drop to my sides. I lie motionless, listless, watching dust motes drift on air currents, flashing gold in the morning light through the open curtains.

I had half-known he would leave even though I am sure this is his bed.

My heart is heavy, my head pounding.

Paper Faces - 29. Crackle

I am relaxed, the irresistible aftermath of an unparalleled orgasm pulling me under despite the misapprehensions I know are buried in my mind. They will not see the light of day until a new dawn washes away hangover and afterglow alike.

I begin to nod off and feel the bed shift, weight leaving it. Light footsteps pad across carpet, barely audible. There is a clicking and a whoosh of flame; I idly place the noises of a fireplace.

A cool breeze, and then a thin layer of warmth settles over me, the mattress depresses again, and I know no more.

Paper Faces - 28. Glow

He rolls to my side with a lazy smile, and I want to freeze time – to keep that expression on his face.

But his arm moves up, brushing sweat from his forehead before resting on his pillow, and he licks his lips.

My head is swimming, alcohol and exertion and sheer confusion slowing my reactions. I feel my chest burn and wonder if that last tequila was a good idea.

His eyes are impenetrable when he rolls to his side, propping on his elbow. He kisses me once and whispers, "Go to sleep."

The words are brusque, the tone kind.

Paper Faces - 27. Spike

Our bodies are slick, perspiration providing lubrication as our chests press together. He kisses me hard, sucking wildly on my tongue as his teeth sting.

My cock is throbbing, the compression of our skin simply not enough. As I reach between us, Edward thrusts harder. Deeper. My hoarse voice murmurs, "Fuck…"

The movement of my hand is what I need, familiarity mixing with wholly foreign stimulation to arch my spine and make my heels dig into the mattress as my hips rise to meet his.

Euphoria spills over my chest as teeth mark my shoulder.

And then all is still.

Paper Faces - 26. Gas

Disoriented, I find myself on my back, my knees near my head with my ankles on his shoulders as Edward thrusts smoothly into me. My eyes flutter, an indistinct noise of need rolling from my lips.

To feel him is to discover nirvana.

Sweat beads on his forehead; I taste the saltiness as my lips roam his face hungrily. Breath mingles and coalesces, vapor that settles over us, wrapping us into one being.

It is a moment of serenity and chaos, disparate parts making a unified whole, bringing both joy and despair.

I know nothing in that moment.

Save him.

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.