Edward gives himself a more suitable form

Edward placed the marker once more on his own body.

The ink bloomed across his abdomen. FIT, he scrawled, the letters jagged in his haste. His flesh rippled beneath the marker’s tip, fat dissolving into ridges of muscle. Lisa stumbled back, her thighs slick with arousal, as Edward’s body reshaped itself before her. “Oh fuck,” she breathed, her fingers fluttering to her parted lips.

Edward didn’t stop. BIG COCK, he added just above his waistband. The sudden weight between his legs made him gasp, his khakis straining. Lisa’s gaze dropped, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Now,” Edward panted, capping the marker with a click, “let’s move this to your room.”

Lisa’s bedroom door slammed shut behind them, the impact rattling the framed Klimt print above her bed. Edward barely noticed, his hands were already sliding up her thighs, her skin fever-hot beneath his palms. She arched against him, her nails raking down his newly sculpted back. “God, you feel-” Her words dissolved into a moan as he nipped at her collarbone.

The mattress creaked beneath them as Edward rolled her onto her back, his cock, thick, heavy, pressing against her inner thigh. Lisa whimpered, her hips jerking upward. “Please,” she gasped, her fingers fumbling between them. “Now. Right now.”

Edward hesitated. The marker lay discarded on Lisa’s nightstand, its cap still off. He could write anything. Make her beg. Make her scream. Instead, he reached down, guiding himself into her with a slow, deliberate push. Lisa’s back bowed off the bed, her mouth open in a silent cry.

Her walls clenched around him, hot and slick. Edward groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her legs locking around his waist. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice ragged. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Edward didn’t. His hips snapped forward, driving her deeper into the mattress. Lisa’s fingers twisted in the sheets, her cries rising in pitch. He watched, mesmerized, as her orgasm crashed over her, the flutter of her eyelids, the way her throat worked around each shattered breath. When she finally stilled, limp and sweat-sheened, Edward allowed himself to follow, spilling into her with a deep groan.