A/N: Much love and thanks to Siouxchef, Kimpy0464, and The Unnamed One for helping me smooth this out.
All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.
Another bullshit meeting with the school.
This time, the principal, school psychologist and the other parents had been "invited," per the email. As I confirm the time on my phone, I walk into the building. I'm standing tall and confident. I've got my best power suit on. Now is not the time to lose my nerve. I'm standing up for my kid, and this is where it really matters.
I can hardly believe I'm even here. Why the school hasn't kicked this little asshole out is just beyond me. I walk in and smile at the receptionist. Great, she knows me on sight now. She tells me to have a seat, so I do. I check my email, check my Twitter, check anything to keep my mind from racing and making me want to pummel a certain 7 year old.
Finally, Mrs. Snarky walks out and waves me in. I'm confused. Where are the other parents? As I walk in and sit in her office, my familiar spot left open for me, I see him. Along with the usual suspects, there's a very hot gentleman sitting at the table. He's gone just a little grey at the temples and I notice the fine lines around his tired eyes as they crease with his smile in greeting. He extends and hand to me and I look at Mrs. Snarky.
"Ms. Swan, this is Mr. Cullen."
I shake his hand, even though I want to fucking deck him now, knowing who he is. This is the father of the asshole who has teased my daughter over the last six months of school. I hadn't recognized him because his kid gets picked up by the nanny on the regular. I don't think I've seen a parent pick him up, ever. Sometimes an older woman picks him up, and I've heard his kid call her Grandma.
We all sit and discuss the children, the reason we're here. I find myself looking at him, staring perhaps. If he wasn't such a shitty father, I might find him attractive. I wonder where his wife is, noting that he's wearing a modest gold wedding band. I'm snapped out of my thoughts by Dr. Caresalot.
My attention turns to her and I smile a genuine smile. She has helped Rose more in the last three months than anyone else in the last three years I've been sending her to this school.
"The school is going to put Emmett on another home note program, and we'll keep an eye on how things progress."
Are they fucking kidding me?
The expression on my face turns cold and I can see a glint of fear in Dr. Caresalot's eyes.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Ms. Swan, we're really doing the best th-" Principal Snarky begins.
I put my hand up to stop her.
"I don't want to hear it." I turn to Mister Fucking Cullen. "Why can't you control your kid? I mean, what the hell is going on that he relentlessly picks on Rose? You need to teach that kid some compassion. Where is your wife, anyway? Couldn't send the nanny to handle this chore? Doesn't she care enough to be here to deal with her son, or is she too busy, like the other moms in this Stepford town?"
Mister Fucking Cullen looks appropriately shell shocked. I'm proud of myself for standing up for Rose. She doesn't need this, not with the year we've had.
I'm glaring at him now, waiting expectantly for his pansy-ass explanation of perhaps how his wife is off at the spa. Maybe she's getting a little nip and tuck. Date with her lover? All of these scenarios flash through my mind, as I hear a collective gasp from the other attendants of the meeting.
My eyes dart around to each of them, a look of horror on their faces. Dr. Caresalot now has her arm around Fucking Cullen and I arch an eyebrow at them. Sure, I'm being a bitch, but I'm not backing down from this one.
Cullen's face morphs from complete shock, to grief, and then to outrageous anger in about two point five seconds. His fist hits the table loudly and he shrugs off Caresalot's arm.
"If you must fucking know, Ms. Swan, my wife is dead. I'm sorry that Emmett is having some trouble dealing with things. I'm doing the best I can to handle him with the resources I have. What's your excuse for being such a bitchy shrew?"
I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I want to run back home, grab a pint of ice cream and hide under the covers. I want to be anywhere except right here in this moment, where I have clearly made a complete and utter ass of myself.
Instead, I puff up my chest just a little, to reinforce how serious I am, and let him have it again.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Cullen. I assumed from the wedding band on your left hand that you were married. I apologize for your circumstances, but that certainly doesn't excuse Emmett's behavior."
We go around and around for a few more minutes, until everyone is sufficiently mentally exhausted. I agree to the damn home note, because unfortunately, I have no other choice. I take Rose home, give her dinner and a bath, then cry myself to sleep, realizing that I'm lucky to at least have an ex-spouse to sometimes give me a break.
I really am a bitchy shrew sometimes.
I see the nanny at pickup for the next few days, and then suddenly, Mister Fucking Cullen is there. I panic. I'm always at pickup and half the time, I'm there from work, so I look moderately decent. This time, I've come straight from the gym. I'm in a stretch tank top and yoga pants. Not that I did yoga, of course, but what-the-fuck-ever. My hair is in a ponytail and I try to tuck some of the loose strands in before I walk out to the sidewalk where the kids come out at. I stand away from the Nanny Brigade, needing quiet to compose my thoughts. I want to apologize to him, I'm just not sure how.
He must have seen me approaching and I notice that he's looking around nervously. What the fuck? Does this asshole not even know how pickup goes? Christ, I can't shut the shrew off for even five minutes, can I? Am I so jaded from my marriage, which frankly was doomed from the start, that I can't even go outside my comfort zone to help a widowed dad?
"Mr. Cullen," I greet him with a nod. He responds with a grunt, not even bothering to turn and look at me.
I'm sure he can see me in the school windows, which reflect everything, it feels like sometimes. I never feel quite as naked and exposed as I do at pick-up time. Here is where people observe me, and only me, picking up my child. I wear no wedding ring, I never mention a husband, and I'm sure that by now most of them have heard The Shrew's story.
Mrs. Cuntywife walks up to Cullen and hugs him, pressing her obviously fake tits right up into his chest. Could she be more obvious?
"Edward, how are you?" she asks as she pulls back. Her hands are still resting on his biceps though, and she looks like she might have a Big O just from squeezing them. He does have nice arms, I'll give her that. Especially in that dress shirt, with that tie. Yummy combination.
"I'm good." He lets out an exasperated sigh and I can tell he's anything but. It's full of pain and squashed feelings and fuck me, I just want to hug him myself now.
"How is Emmett doing?" Mrs. Cuntywife shoots a glare at me as she asks, confirming the Gossip Train has indeed cycled the story of our meeting.
Shifting my weight, I move slightly away from them. I curse the small area we have to pick our children up in, almost wishing I was a fucking nanny so I had a place to call my own. I could turn Stepford and join those hags in the shady corner, but then I'd require some silicone and scalpels, and just the reminder of blood makes me slightly queasy. Of course, that might also be Cuntywife's perfume.
"Emmett's fine. As fine as he can be, you know."
Cuntywife leans up and pecks each of his cheeks in goodbye, being called over by another Stepford. I'm sure they have important PTA business to discuss. Personal Trainer Affairs, I mean. I snort as the thought passes through my mind and Fucking Cullen looks at me dead-on.
This is my chance.
I take a deep breath.
I open my mouth to speak.
I am knocked to the ground.
What in the mother fuck?
Rose, in her excitement to see me, has completely knocked me on my ass. I'm splayed out like a ragdoll on the cement sidewalk right in front of Cullen, who I notice is holding in a giggle. I narrow my eyes at him and set Rose back on her feet as I sit up. In a shocker move, Cullen walks around to face me and extends his hand to help me up. My eyebrows scrunch on my face, a habit I've tried to break myself of countless times, with zero success. I put my hand in his and he helps me stand effortlessly. I only looked at his biceps for half a second as they flexed, pulling me to my feet.
Mister Fucking Cullen stars in every naughty, nice, and in-between sex dream I have for the next week. He's not there to pick Emmett up again, even though I've done myself up to the nines most days, in the pathetic hopes he might show up.
His mother, however, is there more than usual. I learn that the older woman picking Emmett up from time-to-time is named Esme. She's Cullen's mother, and actually very nice. She dresses as if she's just stepped out of the Nordstrom Junior's department, but she always manages to pull it off flawlessly, and she's fun and easy to talk to. Her Baby Phat purses and newsboy hats do amuse me, though. She has a whimsical, carefree sense of style and although we talk about nothing of consequence, it certainly beats the shit out of talking to any of the Stepfords.
Finally, I've given up hope and gone to pickup in my sweats. The weather has turned, it's getting ready to snow, and I'm in a fucking mood. My ex is crying about child support, saying he has to go out of town this weekend with his new girlfriend and I just have nothing left for anyone.
This is, of course, the day Edward Fucking Cullen comes back to pick up his kid.
I yank my purse over and dig for gloss. The least I can do is have shiny lips, right? I find some old MAC at the bottom, in completely the wrong shade, but slap it on anyway. I'm a desperate woman.
I trot out of the car and over to the sidewalk. I take my place and stand next to him. When he addresses me, I pretend to be surprised.
"Oh, Mr. Cullen, I didn't see you there."
He tilts his head in what has to be the most easy and comfortable nod in the history of nods, and I wonder what the fuck he's taking. I need some of that.
"Mr. Cullen," I turn to speak to him genuinely now, trying my best to remember that his kid is a fucking asshole and keep my libido in check. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you the other day. I didn't know."
Cullen shrugs and sighs, shaking his head. He seems to struggle with the words he's looking for, then he turns to me and I see his face for what just might be the first time. I wonder if he's a model, seriously, because he is able to convey every emotion he must be feeling right in that moment, without a single god damned word. I'm nearly knocked over by the weight of the grief I see there.
"It's okay. You made me realize I was relying too heavily on the nanny for help, so it was a good thing. I can't be here every day, but I try to send my mother when I'm held up at work. She tells me she's been talking to you, actually. Thank you for that."
Back up. Did Mister Fucking Cullen just thank me for talking to his mother?
My eyebrows furrow again and he reaches out and touches them. Touches. Them. I briefly consider kneeing him in the groin for daring to touch me without at least buying me dinner first, but then I remember two things: first, it's been about five years since any man touched me, and second, it feels so nice and calming, this tiny, tiny thing he's doing to me.
"Did you just thank me for talking to your mom?"
He smoothes both sides of my neatly manicured eyebrows down before speaking again. Mister Edward Fucking Cullen is touching me, and this isn't the way I had been dreaming about, but I'll take it. For now.
"Yeah. She used to own a dance studio. She's been lonely since she closed it. She loves to pick up Emmett when she can. She said you were the first person that ever spoke to her. Thank you."
Edward had shifted his head as he spoke, looking into my eyes. I had to figure out some way to extend my time with him. I had no fucking clue why, but I wanted him in the worst way.
"You're welcome, Mr. Cullen. I really enjoy her, actually. She's a hoot. People are usually afraid to be who they are, but she seems so comfortable just living her life."
He nods and looks down at the ground, making patterns on the sidewalk with his fancy Prada shoes.
"Actually, I was wondering about something." He looks back up at me. "What do you think about getting the kids together sometime to play? Maybe if we took them out of the competitive school environment, they'd relate to each other more. They obviously compete academically, but I've been trying to get Emmett to lay off Rose and I just can't seem to get him to refocus. I was thinking if they began to see each other as human beings instead of competition, they'd empathize more with each other and get along."
Fucksticks. That made perfect sense. My only regret was that I wasn't the one to extend the offer.
We arrange for a playdate at my house the following week and swap email addresses in case we need to change plans. The conversation is surreal and I pick up on some subtle flirting from Fucking Cullen. Am I asleep? Is this another awesome sex dream?
Of course the kids come running out just then, interrupting my train of thought before I get too close to Pervsville.
Rose and Emmett are locked in a heated debate as they walked out of the classroom. Rose is insisting that Emmett is lying, and Emmett looks like he's about to blow steam from his ears, as he charges up to his dad.
"Mr. Cullen," Rose begins, and I silently say a prayer that she's on her best behavior. "Emmett says he never sleeps. Is that true?"
I have to laugh. Rose and I have this conversation from time-to-time where she insists she doesn't need sleep. Now I get to watch another parent squirm and answer the same question. Edward turns to Emmett and gives him a stern look, so stern that it almost makes me flinch. He crouches down to look at him, their eyes level, then puts his hands on Emmett's shoulders.
"Emmett, what did I tell you about lying?"
Emmett looks mortified. His eyes go wide and it's the first glimpse I get of them being related, and it hits me. Emmett looks way more like his mother. I stand there, stunned, wondering how hard it must be for Cullen to look at what I assume is a very close resemblance to his dead wife on a daily basis.
"Rosalie Victoria, what have I told you about railroading people before?"
I'm being a little louder than normal, hoping this will help Emmett off the hook. I have no idea why, but I suddenly feel so bad for this little shit. No idea my ass, Swan. You know why. Hot, single dad, who flirts with you and whom you completely misjudged.
I turn and look at the little shit in question.
"I'm so sorry, Emmett. I promise, Rose won't harass you again."
My hand slips into Rose's and we walk away, but not before I notice both boys' mouths wide open, gaping at us. I don't punish Rose when we get home, but I do reinforce the message of not hounding people. I'd never sell my kid down the river for a piece of ass, not even hot Cullen ass.
The next few days pass much the same, with a few noticeable differences. Edward's mom Esme comes to pick up Emmett every day. Gradually, Emmett is coming out of the classroom less and less with a scowl on his face, and more and more excited to see her.
It's a dark and cloudy day, I'm muttering obscenities under my breath as I pass the crossing guard. I'm bundled up to the high fucking heavens, looking like an obscene penguin of some sort, I'm sure. The winter jacket I have now is like ten sizes too big for me, but on my part time salary I just can't afford a new one yet. Thankfully James pays for Rose's tuition, or she would have been out of this swanky private school two years ago, when we divorced. Just as I'm lamenting in my brain about the state of my bank account, wondering what to make for dinner, and thinking about how I really need to set aside some cash to buy panties that aren't as holey as the priest at the church I haven't been to in seven years, I smell the most wonderful smell.
That smell is Edward. My brain does backflips and suddenly, the train to Pervsville is zooming at warp speed. I turn to my right, and sure enough, there he is next to me, keeping pace as I cross the parking lot.
"We still on for today?"
No joke, I'm glad we're walking so that I can disguise the weak-kneed moment I have as a stumble over invisible rocks. His arm shoots out to my elbow, helping to steady me, and it's like I'm drunk, or high. I'm high on Mister Edward Fucking Cullen.
My brain finally returns to normal and I realize, today is our fucking playdate with the kids. I'd like a playdate with him. Shit, focus.
"Oh, well, uh."
I'm running through a visual of how I left the house this morning on the way to my dead-end job. There's nothing terribly out of place or messy, but the whole main floor could use a good once over. Sort of like me.
Certain my eyes are glazing over with a mix of lust and confusion, I try as hard as I can to bring myself back into the moment and give him an actual answer.
"I sort of forgot. It's so fucking cold lately, I swear my brain is frozen."
He laughs and I want to throw him down and fuck him on the school lawn. Swan, compose yourself. You're not a cat in heat. You have plenty of batteries. Get through the moment.
"I know what you mean. I hate the cold, too. All my family is here, though..." He sort of trails off and I see his breath in the air as he looks around awkwardly.
"It should be okay, though. Just don't drive too fast," I say with a laugh, because I'm such a dork like that. "Give me a five minute head start and we should be fine."
I nearly piss my pants as Emmett and Rose come out of the classroom talking. Not arguing, not debating, not fighting. They're talking. Edward and I exchange glances, his eyes telling me he's just as surprised.
On the ride home, I explain to Rose that we need to do our best three minute clean up around the main floor. Three because I now need two to brush my teeth and reapply my gloss. We get the random shit thrown around put back where it belongs and I even swipe a line of gloss on my lower lip before the doorbell rings.
Emmett tears in looking for Rose and they run upstairs to her room as Edward and I stand in the doorway and laugh.
"Do you want to just drop him off? I mean, it seems like things will be fine, there's no need for you to stay, if you have someplace to be."
He walks right up to me, almost-but-not-quite brushing against me, and proceeds to the living room.
"I have nowhere else I'd prefer to be."
Ready to drop my panties on the spot, I close and lock the door, wondering what the hell is going on here. Can he read my mind? Has he somehow seen my dreams? The tie he has on only fuels the panty-dropping urge, and as he walks in and takes his jacket off, his cologne wafts up to my nose again and I moan softly. I realize I must look like a complete fucking idiot, so I mask it as a coughing fit.
We sit on the couch after I make coffee and talk. For hours. Miraculously, the kids play together without a peep from either of them. They do their homework side-by-side in the kitchen, and then I offer to make dinner, but Edward insists on ordering a pizza. The kids go back upstairs to wait for dinner and Edward and I sit again, this time a little closer.
Suddenly, it dawns on me: I trust him.
Edward tells me about raising Emmett on his own. He lives with his parents, I discover, and I'm surprised. He's given his life up for Emmett - never dating, not advancing his career, because it would require the time and energy he cannot commit while still caring for his son. He works late some nights, but only when he knows Esme can be around to help.
He's told me about his wife. All about how Tanya took her own life during an obviously unsuccessful battle with postpartum. My brain tingles as he recounts the horrible days following Emmett's birth, and I cry. I cry, remembering what it was like for me. James was zero help, and I can't help but hope that Edward had been there for her. As we talk more and I share my story, he explains that he was there, he did get her help, but just when she seemed to be getting better, he found her.
We're sitting in this moment, Kleenex in one of my hands and his in my other. He's comforting me, he's comforting me, even after all he's been through. I'm not sure why or how, but he leans near me and his other hand moves to my cheek. He brushes my cheekbone and smiles.
"May I kiss you?"
How fucking cute is that? I think, before I realize that I'm wasting precious time. I could be snogging the glorious dude in front of me, so I launch myself into his lap. Our lips are together before I can even take a breath and my hands weave into his hair, holding him right where I want him. His long fingers wrap around my body and he presses our torsos together. I have no time to even think before he moves a hand around to my breast and begins to touch me in a way that makes me want to get up and dance. Except that would mean moving from his lap, and I don't plan to ever do that.
It's like I'm 17 and in the backseat of Jacob's car again, as we make out. His tongue slides into my mouth and I shift my hips on his lap, pleased to feel what seems like a rather impressive erection through his ultra-pressed metro pants. Edward leans back, taking me with him on the couch, and I'm vaguely aware that we're now on the train to Pervsville together, while our first graders play upstairs. Of course, then I remember it's been five fucking years, and I kiss him with renewed ferocity.
Edward's hands go to my ass, pulling me down to feel him more, and I groan. I want this man so much in this moment, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone as much before. He slips his warm hands beneath my shirt and is just beginning to unclasp my bra as the doorbell rings. It takes us both a minute to register the noise, but the clomping feet on the stairs snap us to reality instantly.
I sit up, smoothing my hair, my shirt, my fucking everything-I-can-think-of. Edward looks like he's cowering on the couch, hiding his enjoyment of our activities and I throw him a wink. I get up, pay for the pizza and by then, he's safe to walk to the table, and joins us. Of course, he proceeds to rub my leg all through dinner, teasing me mercilessly, since I know this is going nowhere. He has to take his kid home and I have to tuck mine into bed.
Once the pizza is gone and Edward has stopped teasing me, we clean up the paper plates and call it a night. Edward and Emmett leave before I have a chance to freak out and wonder what the fuck we just did, and how we might have fucked up our kids' friendship when it was just beginning.
My night is full of hot, sweaty, lust-filled dreams of Edward and those hands. Edward and his mouth. Edward and what I'm sure is his beautiful cock. Dear God, please don't let him have a gherkin dick.
I wake up horny, cursing my life. James never has to get up and take Rose to school. He gets to live a responsibility-free existence while I do everything I did when we were married, only without the benefit of two incomes. Once Rose has been dropped off at school, I go to the office and curse more. And then I see the email.
It's from Mister Fucking Edward Cullen, to me. The subject is "tonight". I'm suddenly glad it's Friday, thinking this might have potential to be something other than a red wine, chick flick, hot bath, vibrator sort of an evening for me.
I open the email, practically panting.
Thanks for having us over for the playdate yesterday. Emmett (and I) had a great time. Esme would love to watch Rose this evening for another playdate. I thought perhaps, if you weren't busy, you could come over for a playdate, too?"
Literally, I get up from my desk and shout. I squeal. I pump my fists in the air and give a few "woohoos" for good measure. I'm getting laid. After five miserable, dry years, I'm getting laid.
I write him back immediately, not even wanting to risk him thinking I'll say anything but YES. I call Alice. She's a pro at flirting and will surely know exactly what to say. We hash out the details and I send my reply, hanging up with her to call my stylist. I need a wax job, and not just on my legs, pronto. I don't even fucking care in this moment if I lose my job for leaving to deal with personal business. Right now, Edward Fucking Cullen has taken priority over everything.
Miraculously, she's able to fit me in on my lunch hour, so I'm not going to be homeless just yet. The day flies by and I pick Rose up, chatting with Esme to finalize the details of the playdate. I have just enough time to go home and allow both of us to change, Rose out of her uniform and me out of my stodgy work power suit. I decide to put on something sexy, but not too sexy.
We've scheduled the playdate at five, Esme promising to feed the kids and let them watch a movie. It's not a school night, so I'm okay letting Rose stay up a little later than normal. I figure we have about five hours together, at most. I look at his address and map the directions as Rose and I rush out the door. She asks me several times why I'm so nervous, but I reassure her that it's just a deadline at work. I feel bad for lying, but what else am I supposed to tell my seven year old? Don't worry honey, mommy's just nervous about fucking your former arch nemesis' dad.
My thoughts are consumed with Edward the entire drive, when suddenly I realize I'm in a very nice part of town. Very nice. As we find the house, it occurs to me that Edward has invited me on a playdate at his house. Which is his parents' house.
Parking in the circular drive, I take a few deep breaths and compose myself. I've got on the sexiest bra and panty set that I own, thankfully not from Target. I'm wearing a dress and stockings held up by garters, but again, I'm covered in this fucking huge winter jacket, thanks to the snow. I can't decide what to be more nervous about, that I look like a whale, or that I'm all dressed up for a playdate at my potential boyfriend's parents' house?
There's no time for nerves as Rose bolts from the car, banging on the doorbell. Esme answers and waves us in, and suddenly I'm grateful for my jacket. I can hide behind it as long as I like, on the off chance that Edward is wearing sweats and I feel like a fucking idiot for going to all this trouble.
Rose and Emmett wander off to what Emmett calls "his wing" of the house and I glance around. How I hadn't noticed from the outside I can only blame on my preoccupation with myself, but now that I'm inside, I can see that this isn't a house - this is practically a mansion.
"Bella, can I get you a glass of wine?" Esme offers with a smile. "Edward is just over in his house, but I'm sure he'll be right in to get you." His house? She sees my confusion and answers my unspoken question. "Oh, he lives in the guest house. Right out back, there." She points to a "guest house" that is easily bigger than my real house and suddenly I'm nervous again. And the horny is back.
Here I thought I was going to neck with Edward in the basement and he has a little mini McMansion of his own.
I hear a door open and close and can smell him before I see him. Edward. I don't even realize I have a fucking mile-wide smile until he walks right up to me and leans down to speak in my ear.
"I'm glad to see you, too."
He places one soft kiss below my ear and I'm gone. Completely, entirely gone.
I start to babble about wine and Esme, but he just laughs and shakes his head, taking my hand in his. He pauses at Esme to kiss her cheek and whisper his thanks, and she winks at me as we wander off.
Edward squeezes my hand once we're out in the cold. It hasn't started to snow yet, but it will soon and I say a silent prayer that it just waits a few more hours.
We walk in the front door and I'm fucking floored. Literally. Edward has nearly attacked me in the entryway, sweeping me off my feet and onto the ground. I realize that I haven't even taken my jacket off, far too many clothes are in the way, and he's pawing at me, kissing me and touching me everywhere. He must be frustrated with the bulky piece of shit jacket too, because he drags the zipper down so fast, it breaks clean off and we both laugh.
He pushes the jacket open and looks at me like a starving man who has just been given his favorite meal. I squirm a little, his look of direct and undiluted lust making me nervous. I try to sit up and his body covers mine again. Edward is so full of need, and I wonder if he even realizes how long it's been for me, too. A fleeting thought races through my brain; are we satisfying some crazy, long-building itch in each other, or is this something more?
I can't even be bothered to care after he softly bites my nipple through my dress. I'm gone again, lost in a sea of lust. He's pushed me over the edge of need and I haven't even said hello to him. I worm my arms out of my jacket and his hands are beneath my dress. They're cold, having just walked in from the outside, but the contrast against my overheated skin is welcome and I suck in my breath. Edward is touching me, rubbing every inch of skin he can get his hands on, and then one of his hands leaves my body.
As I look down to figure out why, I can see that he's unbuttoning his pants already, and my head falls back on its own at the very thought. We're about to do very bad, very dirty things right in the entrance to his home. The door is locked, but where we are is exposed and it just makes the moment that much more exciting.
Edward kneels to push his pants down, not bothering to take them all the way off and I realize that I'm still essentially fully clothed as well. I hook my hands under my dress and pull my panties down, Edward eyeing me again. He strokes himself as he watches me, and I can't help but think how fucking hot he is. The girlie part of my brain wants to start analyzing, judging, and figuring out just what the fuck is going on here, but that bitch gets tossed aside the moment his body lays on top of mine again.
I can feel the fabric of my skirt at my hips, the heat of his legs against mine and then, blissfully, the hard length of him as he slides into me. He has been in my every thought for weeks and I don't even care that we're just fucking on the floor with practically zero foreplay - I'm going to assume he's been thinking a little about me, too, and let the show get started.
He's grunting and groaning as he thrusts into me, and I can hear myself responding to him, almost as if I'm having an out-of-body experience. Except, I really want to be in my body experiencing this, so I force myself back to reality. Edward is fucking me in a way I've never been fucked before. It's frenzied and needy, but his lips are still all over me, reassuring me in some impossible way that he... cares? I remind myself, five long fucking years, and tilt my hips to meet his movements. My hand snakes down between us and he mutters a few expletives as he watches me touch myself, watches himself as he's fucking me.
I'm whimpering and moaning, the weeks of build-up and flirting all crashing down on me, and I close my eyes as I feel the beginning of my orgasm. He thrusts harder, faster, and I let go. It's no use anyway, I can't possibly hold on any longer. I scream, the moment overtaking me, as I feel my body react to his, my muscles contracting around him, encouraging him to do the same. Sure enough, his volume increases seconds later and he tenses above me, a slow chant of "fuck" making its way from his mouth.
Laughter bubbles up and out of me. The sheer fucking joy at having just had one of the nicest and best orgasms ever, not just since my solo time began five years ago, but fucking e-ver, causes me to just go insanely giddy. I'm nervous, but can't hold it in, until I hear him laughing, too. It doesn't even matter why he's laughing – maybe he thinks my panties are funny, maybe it's the relief of it all for him, too... it just doesn't matter.
Edward partially collapses onto me, and we lay there together, panting, laughing, and sweating. I raise my knees to either side of him and my arms go around his waist, stroking softly up and down his back. Somehow, the moment transforms and I realize he's gone completely quiet and still.
I nudge his head with mine so that I can look at him, and go for an ice breaker.
"Can I assume it's okay to call you Edward now?"
He buries his face in my shoulder, half laughing, half groaning and nods yes.
"Are you okay, Edward?" I whisper, leaning up to kiss his mop of crazy hair.
"I just need a minute."
We lay there quietly. Outwardly quiet, at any rate. Inside, I'm now a jumbled mess, unable to keep the girlie side of me at bay. Every insecurity I've felt has risen to the surface and I'm wondering just how to extricate myself as delicately as possible from beneath Mister Edward Fucking Cullen, father of my kid's arch nemesis, whom I have just been fucked senseless by. Well, I'm wondering that and also how to get him to do it again.
As the contradictory thoughts wage their battle in my head, I refocus and notice Edward is kissing my decollete, apologizing.
"Edward? What are you apologizing for?"
He sits up, still between my knees, and strokes his hands down my thighs. I'm ready for round two, I do my best to convey with my eyes.
"I just... we just... that wasn't... but, then... Fuck."
He moves his eyes away from mine and over into the other room.
I sit up next to him, trying to make sense of what he's babbling about. I rest my hands on his bare thighs and try to get him to actually verbalize something that makes sense while not leaking … well, leaking all over his lovely stone-tiled entrance. I squeeze his skin, an attempt to get him to look at me again.
Shaking his head, he laughs lightly. "I'm sorry, Bella. I had no intention of doing that, I swear. I just saw you, laughing and talking to my mom. It's been so long, and fuck me, you are so gorgeous."
He shifts his legs, trying to move and disguise the fact that he's getting hard again. What he fails to realize is, I like that fact.
"Edward, I hope you won't think less of me," I purr as I'm climbing into his lap, "if I tell you just how fucking hot that was." My hands wind around his neck and I'm kissing him softly, trying to convey to him just how much I appreciated that moment – even if it never goes beyond that. I needed it more than he can possibly know. To hear him call me gorgeous on top of it was simply the icing on the sex cake.
"You deserve so much more, though," he's mumbling between my lips. I laugh a loud, throaty laugh, tossing my head back again.
"Oh, Edward. Every woman deserves to be fucked like that, by you. What is it that you do for a living? You should consider a career change, whatever it is."
I realize just how slutty that sounds, and I try to backpeddle.
"Not that I'm all that interested in sharing you."
I run my nose up and down the length of his as I look into his eyes to see if he's feeling anything remotely like what I am. He smiles and his eyes crinkle, reminding me of the first time we met all those weeks ago.
Somehow, he stands up with me still in his arms, pants at his fucking ankles, and hobbles into the bedroom. By the time he lets go of me and I land on the bed, I'm laughing like a lunatic again. The sight of him walking with the fucking pants at his feet, even from my limited vantage point, has me in stitches.
I curl up on his bed and laugh as he toes off his shoes and then throws his pants toward a hamper on the other side of the room. His hands move to undo his tie and I bolt upright, shaking my head no.
Grabbing his tie, I pull him down to kiss me. I've always been a sucker for a guy in a tie and I'm not going to let this chance slip by me. James never wore ties, or dress shirts, or cologne for that matter. I remind myself to stop comparing and enjoy the hot man in front of me, again, as my fingers slip into the knot. His tie comes undone as he places a hand on either side of me, on the bed. I whip it from around his neck and grab his collar, pulling him back onto the bed with me.
I'm no dumbass. I know he won't be ready to go again for a bit, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the recovery time. We make out on his bed and his hands are everywhere, exactly as they were in some parts of my dream. When he moves his fingers lower, to rub my clit and slide into me, I gasp for breath. He's teased me perfectly and the fact that he doesn't care that his hands are now, well, sullied, has me nearly unglued. I'm almost embarrassed that I come in record speed, his mouth against my nipple as I scream.
"Jesus Christ, am I dreaming?"
Poor Edward doesn't realize I'm actually asking, and starts to chuckle beside me.
Once I catch my breath, I realize that I've turned into a panting, sweaty mess. There is no way this can be attractive anymore, but Edward's hands are still all over me. He's running lines up and down my body, swirling patterns and stopping to pinch and tease me randomly. I cringe when he traces over my thank-fucking-god-fading stretch marks, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.
I turn my head to look at him, feeling brave. I mean, I'm fully clothed still, well, sans panties, but I feel... so... something I can't quite place.
"Hi," he whispers, a shit-eating grin on his face. I bury my head into his shoulder and move my body to curl up into his.
"How is it that I'm almost naked and you're still fully clothed?"
My body shakes with my laughs and I make no attempt to answer him. I'm too happy, too exhausted, too satisfied (yet strangely, still horny) to even think up a witty quip or comeback.
Edward wraps me in his arms and I weave my legs through his, bringing us close again. I almost fall asleep, the post-coital glow sucking me down into Sleepyland, but I feel him stir against me, and then his chest vibrates with his words.
"I could go for a shower," he offers. "Wanna come?"
You have no idea, Edward Fucking Cullen.
I pull back and look up, then give him the best grin I can muster before rolling off the bed. He walks around to me and takes me in his arms again before saying the last fucking words I ever expected to hear from him in that moment.
"Are you going to break my heart?"
He lets me go and looks down at me, vulnerability clouding his face this time. He's softened, not just his lower half, but his entire demeanor. We're playing with each other like two carefree teenagers, but the reality is that we're both broken adults who have fucking kids to take care of. The whole implication of his words hits me like a ton of bricks, and then he repeats himself.
"Are you going to break my heart?"
"Not if I can help it. Are you going to break mine?"
It's taken every last molecule of courage to admit this vulnerability. I've spent the last two years building a shelter around everything that I am, trying to make life as good as possible for Rose, while pushing aside the fact that I'm also a person with needs. If I was being entirely honest, it started before that, too. It makes no sense to my brain that I'm admitting this to a near stranger, and there's almost a visual war raging in my head between my heart and my mind, but I need this so badly. Even if he's going to crush my heart into dust, the truth is, I need this night.
He shakes his head no and brings his hands to my shoulders, pushing my dress down and off my body. He lets out an audible "mmph" as he soaks in my lingerie and I am once again thankful that I brought out the good stuff. Edward's hands are covering my body, touching me and worshipping me. He bends down to unclasp my stockings, then kisses a trail back up, his hands on the backs of my legs, and then squeezing my ass as he brings his lips to mine.
"I can't wait to get you in the shower," he mumbles.
Okay, I'm thinking, I like showers, too. And then he takes my hand and leads me to what has to be the fucking biggest shower I've ever seen, and I make a note that the entire bathroom is huge. I flag this in my brain to come back to, as it strikes me that this is no average family with average wealth. I look around and take in the smooth, dark stones that make up the shower walls and floor, contrasting with the glass on one side where the door is. There are at least two shower heads in the ceiling, and I'm already confused as I look around at nozzles attached to the walls and dials I can't even begin to imagine how to use. I've honestly never seen a shower like it and now I can't wait to get in.
The distraction of the shower is gone as I feel Edward's hands on me again, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the ground. Tugging the garter belt off my body, he kisses my left and then right thigh, while I bite my lip to keep away the inane, self-deprecating cottage cheese jokes. His hands are trailing a line up my skin again and when he stands tall in front of me, I'm captivated and feeling defenseless. I do the only thing I can, which is reach out and unbutton his shirt, then push it off his shoulders. I lean into him and kiss his collarbones, closing my eyes.
Take a risk, my heart says. RUN!, my brain says. But I know. I know I've already promised him that I won't break his heart, and as stupid as it might have been, I meant it.
Edward steps away from me and walks into the massive shower, pressing buttons and turning dials, a smug smile on his face the entire fucking time. Finally, he looks over at me and steps under the water. The glass is quickly steaming up and soon he'll be gone and out of my sight, but I take just a minute to watch. His muscles flex and move as he lets the water wash over him. He's no longer shy, erection standing loud and proud as he turns and gives me a view of his perfectly bite-worthy ass. That's it. I'm only human, I can't take anymore.
I open the door and step in, the warm mist surrounding me. Heaven. This shower is fucking heaven. I wonder briefly if he'd mind my moving in here, but have no time to contemplate the exact methodology one uses to ask their new boyfriend if they can move into the shower, as he's already up next to me. His slick body is pressed against mine and I realize that he's pushing me under the water spray. He has the water set more warmly than I would at home, but it's nice. Soothing. Relaxing. I realize that maybe all these years I've kept the water too cool as I succumb to the heat and relax back against him.
His hands are roaming up my body, cupping my breasts as he teases my nipples to an ache. Edward is kissing my neck and I become aware of the fact that I'm rubbing against him. His body is angular but soft somehow, perfect. My head falls back to his shoulder as he continues to lavish attention to my breasts and neck, nipping now and then and making me moan.
With one last caress, he leaves my body and I wonder briefly if I will fall over without him behind me. He quickly appears in front of me. His mouth is on mine again, hands around to my bum and he's pushing me back. My eyes are closed I have no clue where he's directing me, nor do I particularly care, as long as he's there too. The stones beneath my feet are rounded and soft, but unique and something that brings my thoughts back to focusing. I feel something cool against the back of my knees and Edward whispers to me.
I trust him, I think again, as my body sinks at his command. My bottom is met with more stones and I set my hands on either side of me, feeling the curve of them under my fingertips. I briefly wonder if he's just asking me to sit so that I'm out of the way, but then he begins to kiss down my body. He's on his knees in front of me, between my own knees. He takes a nipple between his lips again and sucks it softly as his hand loves the other.
Edward's hands move to my legs and he spreads my knees further apart, pulling forward slightly to angle my body. The anticipation nearly kills me. It's been five years since I've had sex, but even longer since anyone's mouth has been near my lady bits. I'm trembling and aching with want even before he lands his first kiss, but once he does, I can't help it, a long, slow moan escapes. I feel the vibration of him laughing against me, and it drives me even more crazy.
He hitches my legs up and over his shoulders as he licks slowly from my opening to my clit. Just when I think I might die from pleasure, he wraps his lips around my clit, then lets go and repeats his actions. I can feel his nose against my skin as he's licking and kissing me, and I can already tell this is going to be another embarrassingly short moment. I've got to build my endurance back up.
His hand moves to me and as I feel him slowly slip two fingers, I cry out. He presses his mouth to me harder and I must sound like a dying hyena with the sounds I'm making, but as he coaxes the third orgasm from my body, I decide to worry about being embarrassed later. He doesn't slow his movements and I whisper a thank you as he draws out my pleasure as long as possible.
When my body stops moving and reacting to his touches and kisses, he withdraws his fingers. I can hear him hum with pleasure as he stands in front of me, and then I see that he's just as hard as he had been before, when I watched him stroke himself. I lean forward to take him in my mouth and he closes his eyes as I slip my lips over and around him. He only lets me move up and down his thick cock a few times before he's pushing me back slightly. I'm no pro, but I'm sure I'm no slouch either, so I'm momentarily confused.
Edward sits on the bench next to me and then pats his lap. I admit, I'm glad we're getting round two in tonight. If I have to go home alone, I want to experience as much of him as I can before I do. I position my body over his, not taking him into me just yet. I kiss his chest, the fine hairs scattered around ticking my lips and nose. I lick and suck his nipples, gently nipping at them both. His eyes are closed and he's breathing heavily. His cock is periodically tapping my body and I groan with need. In trying to turn him on, I'm simply getting myself even more worked up and full of need for him.
I move his hands to my hips, then place one hand on the stone wall behind him and one between us to guide him into me. As I sink down, he lifts up, and I'm certain there's no better feeling in the world than being fucked by Edward Cullen. Except, is this really "fucking" still? The guy did just ask you not to break his heart.
He slouches slightly and then uses the new angle and leverage to lift again, hitting a new spot. I bring my feet to the bench, one on either side of his body, and we move together. His hands are still on my hips, holding me securely to him, so I move one to my clit and slowly rub in time with his thrusts. I'm finally feeling like my groove is back, no two minute orgasm is in the cards for me this time, and I rest in his arms and enjoy the moment.
The slow build is creeping over me as he continues to move in and out of me, but I miss him from this angle. I let go of my own body and wrap my hands around his neck, dropping my knees to either side of him as I pull my torso next to his. This is much better, the heat of his skin is back against me, his lips are on me in an instant. His hands have repositioned themselves and now one is on my ass and one is between us.
As he works my body, I'm panting at his ear, my mouth wrapping around his lobe periodically. I'm trying not to pass out, the pleasure overwhelming me in the moment. This is so different from anything I've experienced with anyone, from how we met, to how our bodies work together. I'm rolling my hips with his now, my entire body is shaking from the effort and energy, the need and pleasure. His fingertips roll over my clit a few more times and I rest my head on his shoulder, the climax rolling out of me in waves as I continue to move my body over his.
"Please," I whisper to him, somehow needing him to fall over with me. I realize that the act I used to find disgusting and messy with James has turned into something I crave with Edward.
Edward's knees are bouncing my body on his now and I'm so taken with the intensity of the moment, and his magical fingers that never stopped moving, that we both come again, together this time.
Our bodies slow together, and then stop. Neither of us has the energy to speak. So many words just passed between us in the form of kisses and touches. I'm sure ten minutes have gone by, and frankly, my skin is getting a little wrinkly, and my heart is getting a lot thuddy and worried at the silence. I breathe in a deep lung-filling breath and let it back out far louder than I intended.
"You okay?" Edward asks me, breaking the silence.
I hum and nod against him, suddenly feeling shy and insecure. The hard-as-nails exterior of Bella Swan has crumbled and I just want to live in this moment forever. I know that I can't, but that doesn't mean I don't want to.
We stand and wash each other, taking our time. We're both far too spent to even consider round three, right now. Edward turns the water and steamer thingies off, then walks out and hands me a robe. It's clearly a guy's robe, and I put it on and inhale his scent immediately. He rummages through a dresser and I look around, observing the details of his bedroom, now that I'm not entirely distracted by him. Before I have a chance to soak it all in, his hand is in mine and he's leading me somewhere else.
He turns and looks at me, smiling, and then he stops. We're in the hallway and I have no clue what we've stopped for, when he moves his body in front of mine, pressing me against the wall. There's no rush this time, just slow, casual, dare I say lazy kisses. The kind that say "thank you," and don't need to rush because they know there are thousands more just like it behind them.
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, leave me a little love. Also, this will be expanded, but not until after my four in-progress stories and Good Boy are done. Check my profile for up-to-date information about what I'm working on any given day. Thanks!