Hey, guys! So normally you won't catch me writing anything else when I have a work in progress going on (my brain can only concentrate on so much), but I had to make an exception for the Bodice Ripper's Contest, hosted by DaniDarlingxx, Lily Jill, Jgaff, FanficsR4Nerds, SunflowerFran and PealyFox :). All of them are also amazing authors, so don't miss out on their work!
This story won the "Best Dirty Talk" and "Cliffhanger Queen" awards, and I am super-duper grateful for that!
A HUGE 'thank you' to my beta, CoppertopJ. I am the luckiest to have her by my side and she deserves all the love! And another 'thank you' to those of you who read and reviewed this story when it was still an anonymous entry.
Before you proceed, a few warnings:
1. This story is going to get REALLY filthy, so tread very carefully, if you're not into that.
2. Some of the things that these characters will do are OOC. Not terribly so, but still.
3. I haven't written anything in Bella's point of view in a decade, so please be gentle with me.
Without further ado, enjoy ;)!
*Bella's Point of View*
When the bronze-haired man temporarily moved in the Airbnb next door, I didn't think too much of it. After all, travelers came and went on an almost weekly basis here, in Port Angeles. I couldn't really blame them — this town was not the epitome of fun. But this man... he was different. He lingered. In the heart of this dead-end town, he had somehow found a reason to overstay his welcome. A whole month had passed since I had first caught a glimpse of him through his window and he was still here. Always going out once a week, always after twilight, always alone. And his presence… it was doing things to me. He intrigued me and incited me in ways that no man had managed to before.
The worst part though? I didn't even know his name.
And I wasn't willing to risk my dignity by knocking on his door just to ask him. At least not yet. I wasn't desperate, just curious. It was human nature to be interested in the man with a ridiculously chiseled jaw who lived next door; to wonder why he always had a frown on his face when he went out; to question why his eyes turned ice-cold whenever he gazed in the direction of the little ranch-style house I was sharing with Angela. It was also human nature to imagine him on top of me each night before I fell asleep.
Or maybe not. But I had my reasons.
It all started a few nights after he had arrived here. I was fast-asleep when a noise from outside rang loud enough to awake me from my deep sleep. Through my dreamy haze, I stumbled my way across the room, until I reached the window. For all I knew, a cat in heat could have been the culprit behind the noise, it wouldn't have been the first time. But the street was dead-silent by the time I dared to crack open the window and peek outside. And that's when I saw him: on the other side of the street, sitting at his own window, barely a shadow in the dim light of his bedroom. Piercingly black eyes, jaws tightened, shoulders tense. At first, I was convinced I was hallucinating. But he didn't move, allowing me to realize that everything was most definitely real. I stared in awe, aware that he was staring right back, but I was too caught up under the force of this unspoken connection to do anything else.
Something about the way his eyes penetrated through the dead of the night and right into my core set my insides ablaze, fully awakening me from my slumber. Without completely understanding the sentiment, I found myself melting under his gaze, ready to do whatever he would have asked me to. The potent fire converted itself into a hot fountain of desire in nanoseconds, that left my underwear soaking. He disappeared too soon from my sight, leaving me more confused — and aroused — than I had ever felt in my life. So, for the first time in ages, I cuddled myself under the blankets and pleased myself to sleep, wetting the sheets underneath me when I came and allowing myself to imagine the face of the handsome stranger lowering to clean up the mess between my legs.
The next morning, I woke up feeling a thousand shades of guilty. But when the night came again, the reminder of his eyes staring me down through the darkness came back like a violent comet, reducing me into nothingness. Before I knew it, I was back underneath the blankets, biting hard into my pillows as my orgasms washed over me, silently hoping that Angela would not hear my muffled gasps. Then the day that followed, I made the delightful mistake of staring out the window again when the night came. And there he was, just as I had been hoping: sending delicious daggers with his eyes my way.
I realized I might have an actual problem when my frugal activities turned into an everyday nighttime ritual. The one thing I kept thinking about as I was taking notes during my morning classes was him. The god-like stranger from next door, whose name was still a mystery to me. The stranger who could apparently bring me to climax just by looking in my direction. He had taken over my senses and there was hardly anything I could do about it. As Angela was recalling the events of her day, I only wanted the night to come faster, so that I could lock myself in my room and silently climax my way to DreamLand.
A part of me was aware of how ridiculous this entire thing was. Just a few months ago, I was trying to explain to Angela that I most definitely wasn't interested in having sex again anytime soon — not after Jacob had completely butchered the few times we had tried to do it. Of course, those few bad attempts at sex weren't the sole reason I had had to break up with him, but they certainly hadn't helped when added to the balance of things that would have never worked between us.
But I couldn't bring myself to ponder on what now felt like such an insignificant part of my past. Because, for whatever twisted reason, my entire centre of gravity had shifted in the direction of a man I didn't even know. I couldn't help but wonder what his deal was. Maybe he was a drug dealer — that could explain his late-night outings. But then again, he didn't exactly look the part. After all, drug dealers should not look as if they had just stepped out of a Hollywood movie set.
Or maybe he liked the night scene of Port Angeles — that could explain the black leather jacket he always seemed to be wearing when stepping outside the rented house. Or… he had a girlfriend and he was paying her nightly visits. This thought troubled me and saddened me at the same time. If I had been fantasizing about a man who was already taken, I was in the wrong. But deep inside, I hated the idea of him already belonging to someone else, as irrational as the thought itself was.
Aware that this was no way to live, I decided to confront him. It had taken over a month of painful dwellings, but seeing that he was not going anywhere anytime soon, I gathered enough courage to walk up to his door and knock. With Angela visiting her folks in Forks, just like she did every weekend, I didn't even have to come up with some crazy explanation for my gesture. I simply grabbed a small cup from the counter of the kitchen and headed to my destination, feeling that my plan of asking for sugar might be a little too tongue-in-cheek, but also being resigned to the fact that it was my best shot to at least see the stranger up-close.
But he didn't answer. And I knew for a fact that he was home, since mere hours later, he exited his house nonchalantly, risking a glance towards my house. Damned bastard. That didn't really stop me from getting hot and bothered once again when the night fell, but I refused to allow myself to go there after the way I had been ignored. And I failed, but that was an entirely different story.
But I didn't back down, even when my better instincts and my dignity screamed at me to just let it drop. But it was Sunday and Angela wasn't returning until Monday morning and I had already finished all of the chores for the day. I could use a distraction.
This time around, I waited until the sun disappeared from the sky. My heart was pumping so loudly I could barely focus on keeping a straight line as I made my way to his door. I knocked reluctantly, praying that I wouldn't make a fool of myself again. He didn't answer right away. I was beginning to lose hope as I was counting the seconds in my head. But much to my surprise, the sound of a lock being unlocked resonated in the air and the door opened.
And there he was, in all his glory. Dressed in a white T-Shirt and black sweatpants, the stranger was obviously ready for yet another night in. The way the fabrics clung to what I could guess was an unfairly perfect and sculpted body sent my mind into a frenzy, making me momentarily forget whatever it was that I was supposed to say. It was tough to move my eyes from the hidden planes of his chest, but it had to be done. His eyes were the first thing I noticed — jet black, but something felt off. However, I quickly became distracted by other things: such as the sharp contour of his clenched jaw or the unexpected plumpness of his lips — a plumpness I had never noticed from afar.
"Yes?" he offered in an even tone.
His voice was crushed velvet, drizzling with honey. It didn't help me gain my reason back.
"Hello," I mumbled lamely.
Think, think, think. Why was I here again? I stared down, noticing the cup in my hands. Sugar, yes. One step at a time. I could do this.
"I live next door," I explained, making a real effort not to stutter. "I was wondering if you had some sugar to spare… mine ran out."
"This is an Airbnb, what makes you think I'd have any sugar laying around?"
The neutral tone he had used before disappeared, making room for ice to seep inside his voice. For reasons that were completely out of my control, this made my bones melt.
"I noticed you've been staying here for a while," I managed, deciding that this was not the time to turn sheepish — at least not on the outside.
"And out of all your long-term neighbours, you thought to ask me," he sighed, and I couldn't tell whether he was annoyed or disappointed. "What's your name?"
"Bella… I mean Isabella Swan."
"I'll tell you what, Isabella. You came to the wrong house."
I noticed his hands had clenched into fists when he called my name. I wondered how it would feel if they clenched around my hips.
"So next time you're looking for sugar or salt or flour or whichever item is missing from your kitchen, feel free to skip my door."
His words froze me in place, colder than the Northern Pole. I couldn't really remember the sassy remark I had tried to conjure, for he had already closed the door, leaving me there, without any other explanations. Then, the realization hit me: I didn't even get his name.
I felt my face burning from shame as I made my way across the street and back inside my house. That night, I simply refused to look out the window, to see if he was in his usual spot. The shame persisted, staying with me all through dinner and my long shower. But it wasn't my shame that annoyed me. It was the fact that the flames in the pit of my stomach had not withered along with the stranger's glacial words, as they should have. If anything, they had multiplied, so much so that my brain seemed to be ready to forget all about the embarrassment from earlier.
That night, I dreamed of the stranger's hands clenching around my throat and his velvet voice calmly — but icily — describing all the ways in which he was going to fuck me.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, covered in a thin veil of sweat, the solution to my problems seemed simpler than ever. I slept like a baby through the rest of the night, confident that in almost a week from now, my annoyingly handsome and arguably rude neighbour would no longer be nameless.
Hmmm, would you like to have Edward as your neighbour ;)?
I would LOVE to read your thoughts on this! Reviews are the purest form of love, and it's always a delight to respond to everyone!
There will be only two more chapters coming the next few days. Everything is already written, so you won't have to wait too long at all.
Also, to answer a question that many people asked when the story was still anonymous: yes, there might be more coming. I would like to turn this into a short multi-chapter story. But it won't happen right now, as my brain is focused on my main story, "Stuck in Limbo" (if you want more vampy goodness, check that one out).
And come join my Facebook fanfiction group, if you haven't already: "Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner" (the link is on my profile page). I post teasers and visuals for the chapters there.
Stay safe and happy out there!