You Got A Way with words

Past simple(BPOV)

Big long, ones you can wrap your tongue around nicely, ones that are a mouthful. Even some small ones. Words are my thing. Always have been. My mom and dad read to me every single night growing up. I was reading by myself by the time I was 18 months-no word of a lie. I would scream down the library when my mom would take me away from the little red table and chairs with the children's books. I would memorise my favourite books, until I could truly understand the words I was saying out loud.

I had a lovely childhood. How easy things were back then: playing outside on my bicycle, or inside with my barbie dolls. My parents separated when I was around four years old, but whose parents stay together these days? I still saw my dad plenty, though I lived with my mom. I was a real daddy's girl. Did any of this shape the way I saw men when I came out of childhood, cause me to steer towards an older guy? An older linguist? Who knows...?

Past Perfect? (EPOV)

Emily was as good as it gets for me. Or so I thought. I met her on the train into work like something straight out of some chick-lit novel.

We courted— yes, I still use that word—for a few weeks before it became clear we had something worth pursuing.

We pursued it right into a place of our own outside of town. I commuted to work and our setup worked for us until my long hours at the college started to get in the way; I'd teach night classes as well as day ones. I also worked a lot at home, reading up.

I had to let her go. I put everything I had back into my job, to my students. The English language got all my passion again as I passed on what I knew.

It was hard—no pun intended, teaching a range of ages, from sixteen up to mature students, especially at a college where anything went and people were free to dress as they pleased.

I would admire some of the women, even flirt harmlessly a tad. If I got sexually frustrated, I made best friends with my right hand.

Don't get me wrong; I loved sex and female companionship. I was open to the idea of dating again, but not to anything serious. My job was my life; words were my life. I wanted to explore sex further, have the company, but I couldn't let feelings get involved again.

Past Continuous

BPOV

I was one of those creepy kids that loved school. I liked most subjects, but my passion for reading grew and reached into writing. I was still a very sociable child, but I started to construct poetry that impressed my teachers. I sped through the learning books on the syllabus and was thrilled to be able to take my pick from the shelves of classic, "grown up" books. I chose "Little Women" first, as I prepared myself to become my own little woman and never looked back...

In Secondary school, I was put into the 'Express' set for English students, which meant I took my exams early and did extra qualifications in the following year. It figures that I would elect to go onto study English at College: Language and Literature , please Sir.

Present Imperfect (Passive)

EPOV

Life is still pretty good, but there's a feeling growing inside me that a piece is missing, like a punctuation mark from an incorrect sentence. Most days I just shake it off and share jokes with my classes; it's quite lax here as far as teaching establishments go. Teachers are less formal than some places. We're on first name basis and are known to cuss in front of students to get a point across. Students are likewise more relaxed— some eat and drink in class.

There's this one girl, Bella, who I teach one day a week and one night. I think she may have previously gone to somewhere more strict, because she seems to be struggling to fit in.

Take clothing, for example. I mean, I'm no fashion guru. I'm usually in jeans like a lot of the student body, if slightly less trendy. But she just never seems to get it right. Maybe she always had to wear a uniform before. She's either in a thick hoodie or a tiny little vest which shows off her slim upper body. It's quite endearing. I mean, at least she's not shallow and all about appearance. And her appearance is not at all lacking...What? I just say it as I see it...

She seems troubled and I find myself wanting to help her, not just with her studies, but in any way I can.

She's so clever, but she seems to be held back by something and I care more than I probably should about what.

Plus, she has a great sense of humor, sometimes outdoing me with the one-liners

I hear she studies Lit too, so I'm sure she has a boundless imagination...

In addition to all this, she appears genuinely interested in what I have to say, hanging on my every word and asking questions nobody else would think of or care to ask. More than that, sometimes, she seems interested in ME. It makes me feel like I matter to this marvelous young girl.

And then I see the writing on the wall; I'm essentially describing my ideal woman. But she's eighteen. And she's my student. And she might be vulnerable.

But what if she's my missing punctuation mark? My shining exclamation point! My mysterious question mark? Even if she were, I would never act on it— that's out of the question...

Present Progressive (Active)

BPOV

I want to fuck him, from his mind downwards.

I'm in the world of daydreams again in my language class.

I can't say I know for certain that I would have the crush I do on Edward if it weren't for his way with words. Physically, he's not most teenage girl's idea of a 'looker'—he wears clothes that look like he dug them out of a charity shop. He leaves his long hair-—like, longer than mine— to it's own devices. But I bet he could literally talk a woman into bed, even with no other weaponry in his arsenal. And judging by the things he can do with his tongue when he is demonstrating phonetics, he could please her to no end once she was in there. His grasp on the English language is incredible and he delivers it with a velvet tongue. Even his swearing is significantly hotter, no matter how much he tells us the innocent origins of certain "vulgar" words. Doesn't make them sound any less dirty. Doesn't stop me imagining him saying them in an an altogether different context. Not that I don't like to see him in his natural habitat, because I do. He teaches us so well, like he was born to do it.

Once I began to find that part of him attractive, the rest soon followed, until I wanted the whole package—literally. Like, I will find my eyes at his crotch level when he stands and have to make myself snap out of it before someone notices—hopefully. I'd be mortified. I can't help pining for the easier days of childhood...

Today, we're covering the media part of the syllabus. Specifically, how the press can put a biased slant on an article through the use of language and other techniques. Edward chooses to take me as an example.

"So say the story's on Bella here..."

I'm listening...

"And they want the public on her side— they want sympathy, so they print a picture of her all done-up, looking her best, looking innocent...just 'cos she's a pretty girl..."

What? He thinks I'm pretty?! This is news to me... and the nudge I've been needing...

We move through topics, back onto grammatical structures. Edward asks us to jot down an example to show we grasped what he just talked about, so he can come around to check.

Whereas I'm more interested in showing him how he and I can join together, he wants us to show him how we can join two independent clause together. Okay...

I edge my little piece of paper towards him when he reaches me, making sure only he can see. It's a risk and I know it, but there's not much term time left and shy girls get nothing.

You think I have a pretty face, but what are you gonna do about it?

I keep it fairly clean—for now.

He has the obligatory coughing fit, pardons himself and moves on to the next little piece of paper like I didn't just proposition him. Now hark at this, the King of Words is speechless!

He asks me to stay after class to give me more reading on clauses.

"What did you want to see me about, Edward? You don't think I GRASPED clauses?" I grip my neck with my hand and rub, blatantly alluding to something else.

"Oh, I think you and I both know you grasped them very well."

"Well, what is it then?"

"Bella. I'm your lecturer. And I'm older than you. I know I joke around with you guys to keep it relaxed and I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea-"

"You think I'm pretty"

"You are pretty! And clever. And I could go on. But ... I can't"

"You won't"

"No—I can't"

"Semantics"

"Bella." His reprimanding tone fails spectacularly at discouraging me. In fact, it has the opposite effect.

"I won't give up"

"I kinda don't want you to, but that's just because...fuck! No- It's wrong."

"What about if we wait?"

"Better. But still..."

EPOV

"Better. But still..." I'm at that crossroads—one many a man like me would kill to be at. My next move could change my life. And her's.

She's playing with her hair, giving me the doe-eyed look, pulling out all the tricks in the book that I thought I was above, but I'm not. I can't keep my eyes off of her little tits in that weather- inappropriate vest, her lips moist from the water bottle she keeps with her in class.

I beckon her to me with two fingers, 'til she's close enough for me to whisper in her ear.

"What I'd do is fuck that pretty face till your jaw ached, then cum all over it." Looks like I've chosen my path...or my dick has...

Those are the dirty words sealed with our first kiss.

Present Perfect Continuous

BPOV

Things are better now. He kissed me. In the classroom. We broke away quickly, so as not to get caught on the premises, but it was all the more passionate for being stolen.

Edward wants to take us for a farewell, celebratory drink after our last class and before study leave comes around, another perk of attending this particular place of education.

Speaking of perks, the girls are on top form today. As I sit across from Edward at the wooden table outside the bar, I push them out at every opportunity, looking at him whenever our group touches even vaguely on innuendo.

I opt not to drink alcohol with the impending exams. Besides, I'd never put Edward in the position of feeling responsible for my getting drunk. Thats about the only position I wouldn't put him in...But that doesn't stop me from getting my flirt on in front of him, with guys from the class and guys not from the class.

Now that school's out, I want him primed and ready to go.

EPOV

Bella had me right on the edge the other night; I was ready to bend her over that wooden table and ram her full of my wood, customers and classmates be damned.

And now she's on study leave, only required to come into college to take exams, or if she has any problems. She's decided to pay me a visit. When the college is relatively empty and there's no one else on this floor.

I lock the door behind her.

"Here for revision guidance I expect?" I call her bluff.

"Mhm" She keeps up the charade.

I reach for her backpack and open the zipper. She tries to stop me, but with no real conviction.

"There's nothing in here, Bella. No papers, no textbooks, nothing... But you do have " I hold up the box I have found, "Condoms. Well, you came prepared for something, didn't you, you filthy little slut? Ribbed. For her pleasure. Do you doubt for a second how much pleasure I can give your little pussy, Bella?"

"I-" I shush her with two fingers on her lips—notably the same two that beckoned her into my kiss no more than a week ago.

"That was a rhetorical question. If you open that mouth again before I tell you that you can, I will wash it out with my cum, you dirty girl."

She moans behind my fingers.

"Should I tell you what I think?" My fingers are still in place.

She nods behind them.

"I think you came here to have one last whirl at seducing me before I'm officially no longer...above you." I make sure she gets the double meaning. "Only I do plan on still being above you. And behind you. And under you. I plan on fucking you all over as a matter of fact.

But you're trying to push me. Like with those silly games with those boys at the bar. I don't need to tell you who it is your pussy calls for, do I?"

She shakes her head this time.

"Good girl. So we'll have no more of that." I remove my fingers from her lips.

"So, what was it to be then? You wanted me to snap and take you over my desk, like some cliche, or in the store cupboard perhaps?"

She goes to speak.

"Rhetorical, Bella" I remind her. "'Cos I would. I'd bang you so hard against that wall, the books would fall off the shelves next door."

She groans. It's girly, but it's a groan nevertheless. The sound has my dick knocking on my zipper.

"But you're better than that. "

She huffs, disappointed.

"Hey hey, enough of that."I lift her chin to look at me. "When I fuck you—and I will fuck you." I say it like I've never been surer of anything in my life, "you'll know why we waited.

Now get in the store cupboard and get on your knees" I turn her towards said said cupboard.

"But you said—"

"I didn't say I wouldn't let you suck me dry, pretty girl."

We made it. Exams are sat, the past is behind us and the future awaits. But I'm all about the now, waiting for Edward in this hussy dress in this hotel room on the outskirts of town.

When he arrives, in place of flowers or chocolates, he hands me a book(?) he thinks I'll enjoy. I barely glance at the title before touching my lips to his with it still in one hand.

I let go of it for now, so we can move to the bed, where he lies me face down and wastes no time first kissing up my legs, right to the top of my thighs, his hands working in tandem.

"I want to kiss and lick every inch of you." His voice is needy. It's not just what he says—it's how he says it, his tone deep, almost soulful.

I'm trying to tug my dress down to retain some modesty, but it's no good and I don't really want to.

He turns me over and tugs at the top of my dress. It's not the type of dress you could wear a bra with— not that I'm sure I would have anyway, and his mouth immediately latches to the skin where it would have been.

I'm tugging at his shirt now, so he rises to take it off. I latch onto his chest in much the same way he did mine until he pushes me back and takes over again.

He can't seem to decide which side he wants me on. He settles on face down, so he can attack my ass with that ever talented mouth.

He pulls my thong down torturously slowly, peeling it from between my cheeks like he's drawing out the big reveal. My hips lift and the moment there's enough space for him to get his tongue in, he's there—in my pussy. I was right about how skilled he would be at this. He only stops to tell me how sweet I am and how he's going to "bang my little pussy inside out."

I can't control my natural reactions to his verbal and physical assault, which does nothing to slow either.

"I love how wet you get when I talk to you like that." His tone is more excited now, but still he speaks slow enough for me to hear every word.

EPOV

"That's it, lick those dirty balls baby. Clean them with that tongue." I'm stood before her on the bed now.

And FYI, they're not dirty, not even remotely. In fact, I showered just before I got here, of course, but I got off on saying it and so it would seem did she. She can't get enough of them—my words or my balls. She licks and sucks them into her mouth, then her magic tongue goes back to my rock-hard dick. She takes as much of me as she can down her throat and massages the base by hand where she can't reach. Always happy to give guidance, I help her along with a gentle push to the back of the head.

"Ah, holy shit!" I felt that.

When she comes up for air, still pulling on my dick with that hard-working hand of hers, I lean down to bite her ear while breathlessly promising her "I'm gonna fuck you till you can't breathe."

I get to work on her red dress with her. "Let's get you out of this silly, slutty dress." I enunciate each word, playfully berating her for her choice of clothing. Truth be told, I actually like seeing her in something like this, but we both want it off and it's becoming clear we both get off on such foreplay.

I struggle a bit when I reach her ass; this thing is practically painted on. I take a mammoth risk and I'm careful with my words.

"Look at your ass, so full and round, I can hardly get this off of you."

A lot of women would freak out, interpreting that comment in a negative manner, but not my Bella. Mature beyond her years in that way, she knows I mean it only in the good sense and she owns it. I give it a spank to show her just how much I love it.

I layer up with a condom, supplied by yours truly this time.

"Sit on my cock." I want her that way first. This is a full-out, shouted command, no more whispers.

I hold myself in my fist while she sinks down onto me and I hardly let her settle before I'm thrusting up into her from below, hard and fast. Following my lead, she gives as good as she gets as always.

"Yeah, go on, girl! Just like that!"

I lay us on our sides, so I can bring my hand around to her clit and suck on one tit while I hammer her from behind. I get her to cum that way, roaring my approval.

I hold off on her, slowing my thrusts till she's somewhat recovered and then I'm back to banging her brains out; she's got enough to spare..."You like it like this? Nice and deep?"

"So deep!"

She's so gorgeous all goosebumped up, screaming her lungs out. My name never sounded so good. I'm sure to tell her so.

BPOV

Nearly every time I tell him "Yes," he says it back to me. That simple act of repetition is one of the hottest things I have ever heard.

After he gets me off again, he gets me off of him-to get my mouth on him again.

"You're so good, tasting your pussy juice from my cock! Do you like doing that? Show me how much you like it!"

I love how vocal he is, telling me just what he wants and when I'm doing it right. What few lovers I have had were scared to use their mouth-in more ways than one...

He spins me around, up on all fours and drills into me once more. He pulls my head back by my chin."Tell me you're having a good time. Tell when you're going to come, baby-make some fucking noise!"

Apparently, he likes to listen as well as talk...

When I let go around him for the third time, I scream so loud I'm genuinely expecting complaints from fellow guests at some point.

I flop to the mattress, ass still high in the air, him still going at me. I can tell he's not planning on easing up any time soon, so I help him keep me right there, rubbing my clit.

"Yeah-show me all the dirty little things you do when you masturbate, you naughty girl. Show me everything, baby. Show me how you play with yourself."

Gathering some of the plentiful moisture from my pussy, he presses a large thumb to my asshole."Does it help if I do that too, baby?"

"Oh my God!" I'm balancing on my knee joints with his support at this point.

He turns me and opens me, so I'm on my back with my legs as wide as they'll go. He dips down to taste me, to taste us together, showing me with actions as well as words how deep his lust runs.

He slides back into me in missionary, only on his knees, lifting one of my legs in the air and bracing himself up on one of his to get more leverage.

I squeal.

"You like it there, huh? Is that good?"

The only words I can scrape together are "My pussy, my pussy!" as if it were on fire.

"I'm gonna come so fucking hard. I think I want you to beg for my cum."

"Give it to me, give it to me. You know I want it so bad. Please!" I can't believe I would ever be so desperate for such a thing. But I am.

For a man of so many words, the moment he comes, ripping off the condom and spraying my stomach, he's quieter than you'd expect. I love that just the same.

Future Imperfect?

BPOV

Sex with Edward was everything I thought it would be.

One time he made me describe his dick to him to "test how well I remembered my adjectives." Oh yes-he's nothing if not educational, even in our recreation.

"It's tasty and it's yummy and it's mine!" I had proclaimed, petulantly.

"Mine is a pronoun, not an adjective. Punishment!" He had pinned me down and spanked me till I forgot what language I even spoke, let alone it's grammatical laws.

We didn't neglect the compounds either; Edward loved to call me his cum-slut and his fuck-toy, usually when I was acting as such, but sometimes when I wasn't expecting it.

He would schedule in nights where I had to follow all his rules.

"You're good at following rules, aren't you, Bella?" That had set the mood of that evening, which then changed into the imperative: "Take my cock!"," Make me cum!", right through into the declarative: "I love how you take this cock!", "I'm cumming!"

So sue us-we got off on teacher/student roleplay.

It had been a summertime string of endless hotel rendez-vous, secret dates and raunchy phone calls.

But we had to have the conversation eventually. The time comes when you reach the interrogative part of the program— all the questions: Where is this going? What are your plans for the future? Where will it leave us? Also, are we gonna tell people about us anytime soon?

And it should have been what we were good at-—navigating our way through the world with words, but we fell short somehow.

One of the things I liked most about Edward was the way he spoke his mind-in and out of bed, but today, I didn't like what I was hearing so much.

It started off as innocent pillow-talk, with Edward telling me how wonderful I was, how the world was my oyster, but it quickly deteriorated.

"So, how come you didn't apply to Uni? You'd have sailed it."

I always get defensive when people prod around for answers about my life's direction and my place in the world and I don't want to talk about this with him now. I want to stay in our world.

"Well, I wasn't sure I wanted to go straight into it. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, so I thought I'd take a year out. And besides there's always clearing..." I'd been counting on the last minute system for snagging a place on results day if I had a change of mind. But I was suddenly more worried about my heart...

"Bella-you should focus. Decide what you wanna do and go off to do it. Don't hang around here."

"You mean don't hang around for you?" Those were the words he wasn't saying. He will go on teaching here wherever I go, whatever I do and he won't be factoring me into his decisions so I shouldn't factor him into mine.

"Bella, that's not what I meant."

"That is exactly what you meant." If there was one thing he'd always taught us, it was that 'proper' language wasn't really important, as long as you got your meaning across. And his meaning was coming across loud and clear.

"Look Bella,"

I was up collecting my clothes now.

"You know I care about you, but I don't want you to waste your brilliance. And I thought we both knew that this couldn't go beyond sex. That it couldn't be serious..."

"No, you can't be serious!" I slam the door on my way out.

Future Perfect

BPOV

"How do you spell that?"

"Facinelli. F-A-C..."

It's not that hard, but my brain is fried-I've been signing all day. My book, that is. Yeah-alongside my degree, I continued to write on the side, as a hobby. They say you can't make any money from writing, but I'm doing okay.

I've perfected the art of flying through the front covers with my felt tip without even lifting my head up; my agent says it "gets more numbers through".

And here comes another.

"Who shall I make this out to?"

"The idiot that let you go"

I'd know that voice anywhere. My vision goes blurry. I drop my pen.

"Bella- are you alright?" First my agent asks, then he asks.

It's a fight to get the words out. "I think I need a b-break."

"Now?" Jayne, my agent looks like she wants to cause me some pain, but he steps in.

"I think it would be best." Even Jayne is not immune to his powers.

She cuts the signing session short, much to the dismay of those still queuing, with a promise to add another date here very soon. She could be promising them my kidneys right now for all I know.

When I'm out of my trance, I'm in the car park behind the book store. With Edward.

EPOV

"Edward! What are you-Where did you-How?"

"Sssh. I didn't mean to startle you so much. I had to come and see you. I couldn't miss it."

"Couldn't miss it? Edward, you've missed the last two years of my life!" She's woken up now.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I had to let you live for a while. And it's not just that. I was afraid too. I was stupid. I hope you can forgive me, 'cos I honestly don't know what I'll do without you."

I let the words sink in. The times we had flash through my mind at the thought that I might have lost her forever, the same way they say your life does when you lose that. Makes sense; she is my life now.

I see her sitting in class, smiling...chewing pizza in bed...pressing herself into me.

I don't think I've said enough. So I pull out what for a long time were the dirtiest words I could ever think of saying. "I love you."

"I love you, Edward." She leaps into my arms.

Turns out she was my missing punctuation mark—my shining exclamation mark, my mysterious question mark. And now, she's my my full stop. And one day, I hope she will be my wife. At least our vows should be good.