Worth WIP Wednesday 7/20/11

So, are you in the mood for hardass Edward that will steal your heart when you discover just how broken he is? If you haven't started this one yet all I can say is GO NOW.  READ. REVIEW.  You won't be disappointed (though you may need to change your panties a few times!)

Breach by Catastrophia
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6771746/1/Breach
Weber & Weber has a strict non fraternization policy and what they don't know won't hurt them. But what happens when two broken people can't deny the pull? Will it heal them, or be their destruction? Rated M for some hard Lemons and language. AU/A  Rated M


Teaser:

Hands. They were punishing, as he grabbed my waist, pulling me to him hard as he thrust in equally as hard. The rhythm was also punishing; hard and fast. I would have bruises in the morning from where his hands and teeth found purchase, but I didn't mind. I never minded. They were proof, a reminder of his need, his pleasure. A pleasure only I could give him.
Most women didn't like his abrasive ways. I embraced them, craved them.
He had a pianist's hands; long slender fingers that he loved to play me with. There was no one who played me better than him. He liked to torture me with them as well as his words, pictures he sent, and, most importantly, his body.
His body was sin, his cock was sin, and I was a sinner.
The pace was always hard, punishing, and greedy. He needed it that way, and I needed him like that. I needed him to dominate, control, and use me just as I used him.
There was no spanking, no toys; this was not S&M. This was fucking and he was the best fucker. No other could get me going as quickly as he. A simple touch, a grab, and he knew it. He used it.
Every day he took from my body, my heart, my soul. Every day he gave himself to me the only way he truly knew how; with bruising hands, passionate kisses, and hard thrusts.
His lips sucked at my neck; another mark. Of course I had to hide them at work, his marks. We had to hide everything. The cave man side of him wanted them displayed for all to see, especially the ones his teeth made on my shoulders and neck. Marks for all to know that I was his and I was. Marks to keep suitors at bay.
I marked him as well. Some of mine were visible, unable to be reached by the collar of his dress shirt. It didn't really help to keep his admirers at bay, but it did let them know he was finding pleasure in someone and it wasn't them. It was me.
But we couldn't say. Silenced by the rules. Rules that we broke every day. Hollywood had nothing on us. Awards could be given for the lies we told and the feelings we hid under a mask of hate and indifference.