"Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic."
~Martin Luther King, Jr.
"Briana, please put your father on the phone. Mommy is very busy and would like to wish him goodnight before he goes to bed." Isabella says with a sigh as she shuffles papers on her desk while checking the time on the screen of her Mac. 9.34 pm. Her office on the 37th floor of Union Towers is dark except for her desk lamp, as is the rest of the floor where her employees have all gone home hours ago.
"And why aren't you in bed yet?" Isabella adds as an afterthought, trying to channel her Mommy voice instead of her CFO of Astra Financial Group voice. She leans down and releases the straps on her Jimmy Choos, letting her feet breathe. Her pencil skirt clings to her and she is uncomfortable after her very long day. She tries to work faster so she can get home and soak in a bath.
Bree rolls her eyes as she takes out the milk from the fridge. "I am 12, Mom. I don't need to be in bed by sunset anymore."
Isabella can almost feel the eye roll through the phone. She smirks at her daughter's feisty spirit that she has inherited from both of her parents.
"Alright. But no later than 10. I mean it, Briana." She uses the full name again, to make sure her daughter knows she is serious. "Now please put your father on the phone." She wants to make sure she gets a chance to talk to the Senator before he falls asleep. He came home earlier this evening from his two week long trip for his re-election champagne, and Isabella feels guilty about not being there to welcome him home.
Briana hesitates. "He went up to your room. He asked me not to disturb him. He was very tired."
Isabella sighs. She knows her husband. He won't be happy that she wasn't there to kiss him when he came home. And he definitely won't be happy that she wasn't there when he fell asleep to kiss him goodnight. She looks at the papers in her hand and tries to decide if she can leave these for tomorrow. She sighs.
"It's ok, sweetie. I'll just see him when I get back." Which will be quite late, judging from all the mistakes her bare eyes can spot in the contract without even scrutinizing it too closely.
"Umm…Mom?" Briana asks hesitantly.
"Yes, baby?" Isabella picks up her pen and crosses out an entire paragraph.
"Are you leaving to come home right now?"
Isabella stops her pen on the paper and looks at the phone. She sighs again. "Not yet, baby. But I'll try to get done as soon as I can. I'll come in and kiss you even if you are asleep when I get back, ok?"
Bree is suddenly pleased. "Sure! No problem. Have fun, Mom! Bye!" She hangs up the phone quickly.
Isabella throws a curious glance at the desk phone before continuing her marking on the contracts in her hands. Why did Bree sound so happy all of a sudden? But before she could call her back to interrogate…
"Your daughter has a pretty voice."
Isabella's head snaps up to the doorway to her office. Edward Cullen stands there with his hands in his pockets.
Isabella's eye brows shoot up to her hairline. She thought the office was completely empty and she didn't hear him come in.
His blue tie hangs loose around his neck and his white shirt is wrinkled, showing he has had a rough day. He has pushed the cuffs up to his elbows.
His face is impassive.
"Yes, she does." Isabella says in an equally impassive tone. She doesn't want him to know the effect his presence has on her. Not yet.
"You're working late again." He makes another observation. His voice is final. There is no room for discussion, as always.
"This company would fall apart if I didn't." She says with a slight shrug. He knows this already.
He walks into her office, his hands still in his pockets, his face expressionless. She watches him like a hawk. What is he doing here?
He walks over to the bookshelf on the far right side of her enormous office. He runs a finger through the picture she has of her family there. Her husband holding her in his arms while their daughter hangs like a monkey around his back. They have all had their faces painted at the carnival.
She watches Edward's black pinstripe pants and the way they hug his firm backside. She quickly raises her eyes up to the side of his face, to make sure he hasn't caught her staring. He hasn't.
He turns around to face her abruptly and fixes her with a gaze. She has been caught but she can't look away.
"Do you know why I am here, Isabella?"
Isabella is quiet at first. Then she slowly shakes her head.
He puts his hands in his pockets again. "Don't play with me."
Isabella is stunned. She didn't expect him to be so blunt so soon.
"What do you want, Edward?" She breaks out of the haze and her voice is strong, unaffected. Bored, even. His eyes flash with annoyance. She is testing his patience.
"You know what I want." His voice is calm, but in the silence of the vast office and its darkness, it's eerie.
"No I don't." She challenges him. He has to say it.
"You walk this earth every single day, knowing how much I want you. Don't. Play. With. Me." His teeth are clenched.
She gasps. He has wanted this as much as she has. All this time. She throws a cautious glance at the picture of her family.
"Look at me." He snaps. Hands still in his pockets.
"I need to get home. Briana-" She starts.
"Only me, Isabella." He growls. "Right now, I am the only person that exists on this motherfucking planet for you."
And with those words she has lost the battle. He is in charge. He sees the transformation in her. Her shoulders relax and her eyes move to his pin stripe pants.
"Is there something you want?" He asks knowingly.
She nods.
He undoes his zipper and whips his cock out. It peeks out in all its glory, surrounded by his dark pants on all sides. It's the only light in the dark.
His face remains impassive. "Come and get it."
She discards her Jimmy Choos under her chair and walks bare feet to him. She takes quick steps, afraid of the offering being snatched away from her. She dives into a kneeling position in front of him and swallows him entirely.
He places a hand on her head and guides her as she sucks relentlessly. "Yeah? You want that, huh?"
She grabs the back of his thighs and pulls her body closer to his legs. She swallows and he slips in deeper.
His mask falls. He thrusts into her. "You want more? Take more."
It drives her crazy. She pulls back a little but most of him still stays inside of her. She swallows again and he slips even deeper.
"Fuck. That's deep. I can feel your fucking intestines."
She reaches around and squeezes his ass. Why is he still so coherent?
He sees what she's trying to do. He pulls out of her completely. Her open mouth reaches for him again but he places a hand on her forehead and takes a step back.
"Not so fast. You want it, you have to beg for it."
She looks up at him sharply. She doesn't like being denied any less than he does. Her fiery eyes amuse him. He smirks.
One hand still on her forehead, he grabs a hold of his base with the other. He brings the tip to her slightly parted lips and brushes it against them. She opens her mouth wider, waiting for more. He smirks and moves the tip down to her chin and rubs it there. She closes her eyes, her face turned up towards him, her mouth open in prayer.
He almost wants to give in. But she hasn't begged yet. He moves the tip along her jaw and she is breathing heavily. He brings it to her cheek and then she whimpers. Her eyes open and she is begging with her eyes.
"There it is." He says through an exhale and stuffs his cock into her mouth without delay. Her eyes close and she whimpers as the taste of him fills her again.
He has lost the battle and he is thrusting. Back and forth. Back and forth.
"Suck me, Isabella. Fucking suck me. Suck the fuck out of me." He thrusts hard and hits the back of her throat. They are both still fully clothed but the moment is beyond erotic to him.
She is driving him crazy with her willingness to swallow him whole. He needs more of her. He pulls out of her and grabs her around the arms to pull her up to a standing position.
She is dazed and confused. "I need to feel you." He tells her with a feral look in his eyes. He pushes her back on the wall and she lands there with a thud.
She grabs a hold of the hem of her cream silk shirt and pulls the front up to her neck, taking her bra with it. Her breasts fall out under the garments.
She holds one of the breasts on her palm and offers it to him. He dives for it with as much zealousness as she had done for his cock. He swallows the nipple and the pink area around it. He sucks on it relentlessly, like she did to him. She runs a hand through his hair, coaxing him to take more.
He grabs her other breast with his hand and draws back a little, licking the nipple that he has just sucked on.
"I wanna fuck these." He says as he licks between her breasts.
"Later." She says, then pulls his hand that is free to cup her mound through her skirt. "You need to fuck this first. Before I fucking die."
He groans and hits his head on the wall next to her head. He can feel her wetness through the motherfucking skirt.
"You've really wanted me this much?"
"You know that I have. Quit teasing me and fuck me already, Edward." Her eyes bore into his and she is panting. She doesn't writhe like she used to when she was younger. She has better control over herself now. But so does he. And he knows how to make her lose that control.
He grabs her by the shoulders and walks her backwards, pushing her to lie down on the dark wood coffee table. He could have taken her to the couch, but this is better. He has more access this way. He feels more empowered.
She lets her hair out, looking up at him, waiting. He stands there for a minute, watching her lying there waiting for him. Only him.
She is excited by the predatory look in his eyes. She can't wait anymore. Her hand moves to her mound and his eyes snap to them.
"Don't you fucking dare."
She stops. She knows he hates it when she touches herself. He wants to be the only one to give her pleasure. She did it to spur him to action.
He keeps his eyes on her and leans down to slip his hands on the sides of her thighs under her skirt. He pulls her black stockings down her legs and tosses them behind him. He grabs hold of one of her feet and brings it up to rest on his stomach as he traces her instep with his thumb.
She thinks about the glass wall that exists between her office and the rest of the 37th floor. If anyone walked in through the elevators they would clearly be able to see their CFO lying on her back on her coffee table, with one foot on the floor and the other resting on Edward's stomach.
She whimpers.
"You need to stop torturing these with those goddamn shoes." He comments as he realizes her feet are sore.
"Edward, I fucking mean it. Stop making me wait."
The softness in his eyes from moments ago disappears. He grabs her other foot too and pulls her forward by the feet, making her hip stick out a little from the edge of the table.
Her feet rest on his stomach while he undoes his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down to his ankles.
"You better be ready for this, Isabella."
He places one knee on the table and grabs her left knee to hitch it around his hip. He keeps his eye on her as he pushes her skirt up around her waist and pushes himself completely inside of her in one forceful thrust. She gasps but no other sound escapes her. Her eyes widen. He closes his eyes and his head falls back, and they are both completely still. Feeling the moment.
After a long moment, he gyrates his hips once, hitting her sensitive spot with the tip of his cock, while his pelvis pushes on her clit simultaneously. She whimpers and her eyes close.
His eyes are still closed but he smiles to the ceiling in victory. He lowers his face and opens his eyes at the same time.
"You fucking asked for it."
And he pulls back all the way from her. Then, slam. The force of the thrust makes her move slightly backwards on the table. She screams.
He pulls out again. And slams.
Pull out. Slam.
He grabs both her knees and pulls her forwards towards him again because she has slid back and is already out of reach. Once he has her back where he wants her, he slams into her again.
Pull out. Slam. She cries to the heavens.
Pull. Slam.
Gyrate.
"Uggggghhhhh." She groans.
He digs his knee further into the table to brace himself. He pulls his other knee on to the table too. Her legs go over his shoulders. He holds her pussy up for offering to his cock by grabbing her ass and bringing it up in the air.
He starts a relentless rhythm of thrusts.
Isabella turns her head towards the glass wall towards the office and sees their silhouettes reflected on it. She sees his head tipped back in surrender, her legs sticking up beyond it. Only her upper body resting on the table, the rest of it in his possession, her pussy angled up towards him. The only movement is that of his hip, moving in and out of her in forceful thrusts.
Edward is sweating profusely, his sweat dripping all over Isabella's thighs. His knees are scraping on the wood of the table. He doesn't care. He changes the angle slightly, aiming a little upwards.
Isabella lets out an earth shattering cry as all the force of his thrust is focused on her sensitive spot.
Her cry has made his balls tighten. He is close. She is lost in sensation but she's still not there.
He brings his hand to her clit and rubs it furiously. Her upper body twists and her hands are in her hair. Her cries can probably be heard on the streets hundreds of feet down.
He pushes down on her clit at the same time as he hits her spot inside. Both spots. Inside and outside. At the same time.
After the third time he does this she is lost. Her arms fly out on the side like an eagle's wings. She arches her chest up to the heavens and screams his name. It bounces off the walls of her office. He quickly looks around it smugly. Now his presence will be forever here even when he is not.
Her pussy squeezes him violently and he thinks that his cock is going to choke from the pressure. It's hard to keep up the thrusts because her pussy doesn't want to let go of him.
But he won't give in. He keeps going. His thrusts are more forceful than ever. His cock is harder than ever.
She is almost senseless after her orgasm. Her arms are limp in their spread out state. Her eyes are closed as she pants. He can use her to get to his destination but she can no longer be a part of it. Not physically. She is numb to the bones.
She opens her eyes to look at him. His eyes are clenched shut as he tries to get there. He is spent with the effort of it all. She can see the dark circles under his eyes and knows that he hasn't slept well lately.
He is thrusting in earnest. His sweat drips down his face.
She reaches out a hand and places it on top of his on her thigh.
He opens his eyes in surprise and looks down at her.
"I love you." She mouths.
And there it is. That's what he needed. He roars and his body arches in a C, his head falls back. He freezes as he fills her with his seed. Repeatedly.
He lets go of her thighs and tumbles forwards, his cheek falling on her chest as he tries to regain his breathing. She wraps her legs around his waist, and rubs her thighs on his sides, calming him. She runs a hand through his hair and feels the dampness of it. It's proof of the efforts he makes to please her. She cherishes it and places a soft kiss on his head.
Once his breathing calms down, he lies there, looking at their reflection in the glass wall. It's hard to tell the two of them apart. Hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
He sighs and wraps his arms tightly around her.
"I told the munchkin she has to go to bed by 11. Even if I'm not back with you by then." He traces her ribs with his hand.
"That's too late, baby." Isabella's hand runs another circle in his hair.
He shrugs and she feels it on her chest. "I want to tuck her in."
She keeps looking up at the ceiling. Their daughter would like that. She has missed him.
He raises his head and looks down at her. His eyes are somber.
"Please don't make me go through that again."
The yearning in his eyes makes her heart clench. Her mind fleets to years ago, when she went to college across the country from him. He used to have this look every time one of their visits ended.
"I am too old for this now." He says with a sigh and places his cheek back on her chest. She chuckles. He means the trips away from her. Not the sex.
"Alright, Senator Cullen. Never again."
A/N: Happy Birthday, B! Hope you liked your present!