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0. . . oO•.o.Hot Bubblegum.o.•Oo . . .0
*\o\Edward Masen Cullen/o/*
"Wow," she breathed as I brushed my hand across her sweat-covered brow. My cock was beginning to soften, and the condom was starting to become uncomfortable.
"Wow," I agreed with a lazy grin before pulling out of her, wincing at the loss of warmth. I fucking hated condoms, but they were a necessity if I was going to have sex with girls I barely knew. Maybe my discomfort was a sign that I needed to be with a nice girl - the same girl more than once - someone I could trust, instead of the random one night stand I had every couple of months or whenever the thought of using my hand felt too pathetic and unbearable.
"I'll be right back - I just need to... clean up," I explained before walking to the bathroom, deliberately restraining myself from whistling a happy fucking tune.
When I finished, I saw she was sitting on the couch, staring distractedly at the floor, naked, using my t-shirt like a blanket.
Fuck - I thought worriedly, Bella was probably freezing her tits off, which was beginning to make me feel pretty shitty that I fucked her here, a place with very few basic amenities, like blankets... or a bed.
Now that the moment was over, she probably thought I was biggest asshole ever.
"You want to get out of here? We could go back to my place. You could spend the night if you want," I asked, rambling nervously.
What the hell was wrong with me?
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and anxious.
Shit - she's gonna say no.
"Umm... I really want to, but I think I actually need to get home soon," she replied, looking away.
Great. Just fucking great.
Did I do something wrong? Of course I did - I fucked a sweet young girl on a worn out couch in the back of a tattoo parlor.
Smooth move, Casanova. I bet she runs and tells all her friends about the horny pig at Blue Rose.
I didn't want to push her any more than I already had, so I nodded, hoping that I looked impassive rather than hurt.
Why did I feel hurt anyway?
Besides, wasn't I usually the one pushing away, trying to get the girl to leave after we finished?
Obviously, I wasn't done with Bella. I wanted her more than once.
Maybe she didn't want me...
It was ridiculous how much that idea physically stung. Just the thought of not having her again made my chest ache.
"Can I get your number? I mean... I had a great time, and I'd like to see you again," I told her sincerely, hoping that maybe she hadn't lost interest in me, that maybe she really did lose track of time and needed to get home.
"I want to, Edward. I really do, but maybe it's best if we just don't... I don't know," she said, looking away from me. Her voice was sad, and I couldn't help but get closer to her. The need to comfort her overpowered my sense of self-preservation.