Our Perfect Girl
"You like my big hard cock, don't you, pretty girl?"
I know she can't answer me, being that my big hard cock is in her mouth and removing it from it to do so would not make me happy, but it doesn't stop me from asking the question. The question that I already know the answer to: FUCK YES.
I didn't want to hear her answer anyway. I wanted to feel it. And I do...
And her tell me that I worded my question incorrectly, because she doesn't just like it, she LOVES it.
"Fuck. Oh yeah, you do..."
But it's not all she loves. And, after a few moments, what else she does is starting to make me unhappy. Because yes, she's sucking the hell out of my big hard cock, but she's doing it seated comfortably on my best friend Rosalie's face. My best friend who I've shared everything with since we were kids, girlfriends included, if they wanted to be mine.
Those are my rules. Or it is, one of them, anyway. And one of hers. Rosalie and I are a package deal; you want one of us, you have to take–and give to–the other, too, or you get jack shit.
And let me tell you... rarely does anyone choose jack shit. Because what we have to offer...
Is a delectable mouthful no matter how you look at it.
"I know you love that tongue ride you're on, Bella, and I know why, because I know that tongue better than anyone, but I think you should be careful not to let it distract you from the one yours is supposed to be taking me on. Because if you do, I'll take you off of it, and my cock right out of your hungry mouth and put it into hers instead. And you know I mean it."
I really do. And she really does know it, because I've done it before. Made good on my threat, and made her suffer by getting to do nothing but watch.
Bella hates watching. Despises it with a passion. She likes doing, and being done, in all of the ways I generously introduced her to, and graciously let her come to expect. Pun absofuckinglutely intended.
So, since watch isn't what she wants to do, she reins in her focus, and with it, my big hard cock deep into her glorious throat. And when I say glorious, I mean GLORIOUS. Because my pretty girl's throat is the tunnel of fucking love. Since the day we met–her throat and I, I mean–I was head over fucking heels. And kind of crazy about the girl it belonged to, too, if I'm being honest and forthcoming. The first of which I always am, and the second of which...
"Stop moving and let me fuck it, baby."
She does as she's told, just like always, because she's crazy about me, too. And because she knows I'll be good to her if she does. And that Rosalie will, too, and not only because I'll tell her to.
Rosalie is just as crazy about my girl as I am. In fact, she's the one who introduced me to her, telling me before she did that she thought she'd found the perfect girl for me, which, of course, meant the perfect girl for us. And once I had, in fact, met her, I had to admit I agreed. She was fucking perfect.
Our Bella is beautiful. She's the perfect height, about 5'5'' or 5'6", but with legs for fucking days. And fucking nights, mornings, and... yeah, you get the drift.
She has long, dark, silky hair, that I at this very moment reach down and grab a fistful of, because I like the way its softness feels in my hand when I'm forcing my hard cock back and forth between her also silky lips. I have a thing for silky tressed–and lipped–brunettes, I always have. Rosalie is proof, because the dark silk that cushions my girl's knees was the first I ever touched, stroked, or fisted, and the lips that cushion her sweet (again, SILK) pussy are the first ones I ever kissed, plumped, or fucked. And both are exactly what I want to always, even if not only.
Though she's never faulted me for having them, or denied me her effort of trying to meet them, my needs are too much for Rose. And I'm too much, and too wrong, to meet all of hers. While she has a special affection for my cock, her ultimate true love is a soft, sweet, and loves-to-be-loved pussy, and that, I'd never fault her for. Or ever deny her. Which is why, while I get what I need, I make sure she gets her heart's–and mouth's–desire at the same time. And Bella... our beautiful brown-eyed Bella... well, she gets everything, and the honor of being.
Something I can't honestly fault her for her current weakening in, because while I relentlessly fuck her sweet, willing mouth, I know that Rosalie's is hell bent on destroying her coherence in every way, including being able to give any shred of it to me. Not intentionally, or to spite me, but simply because destroying her is her greatest goal, and what comes from it, her sweetest possible reward.
So, since I'm a team player, where my best friend is concerned, I look deep into the sweet, grateful, adoring, and pleading-for-my-mercy eyes of my silk-lipped angel, and thrust my cock as deep into her throat as hard and as repeatedly fast as I can until I explode, pulling back just enough as I do, so that my explosion fills her mouth, and she has to force it into her throat. Which she never has to do because she loves to, as she fills the mouth beneath her with her own sweet love and gratitude.
Before she does the same with my ears, finally answering that question I asked her. "I love your big hard cock Edward. And you for giving it to me, and..."
She doesn't finish, because she's done, in every way. So, even though I'm not done with her, I put it away, for now, and take her. Lift her from her done-by perch, and into my arms with a chuckle. And a sweet–because I can be, too–kiss to her swollen lips. "I know you do, and what else you do, so I'll let you relax and bask in that for a bit, while I get us some fluid replenishment."
I lay her down on the couch, her pale, though flushed, creamy skin a perfect accessory to the deep chocolate leather, and then glance back down to the floor, where Rosalie is still content to lie, looking far more than content, and smile as I head to the kitchen. At the perfect life I have. And the reasons I do.
The soft, beautiful reasons, one of whom has followed me. "I thought you were down for the count."
"I could have laid there forever, believe me, and, like you told Bella she could, basked in my bliss..."
"But?" I ask her, holding up a bottle of wine with a question mark eyebrow.
She shakes her head and reaches past me into the fridge for the orange juice instead. "But I wanted to talk to you."
"About?" I ask now, as I put the wine back and grab a beer for myself instead, and watch her pour two glasses of juice with confidence, knowing me, and that wine will only make Bella sleepier, and that that's not at all what I want her to be.
"That perfect girl in there on our couch, who's perfectly happy to be."
Her answer puts another smile on my lips, and, before she takes a sip of her juice, she takes it right back off. With a kiss, that tells me just how perfect that girl in there is. And makes me want to know for myself. Because, believe me, Rosalie loves Bella's perfect pussy, but she's not the only one of us who does. I love it, too. And bask in more than my fair share of its sweetness, any time she isn't basking and burying herself in it.
"If only we could bottle that," I muse, and then take another second hand taste of it, until I can get a first.
"That would be a horrible idea," she says, pulling away after a moment, greedily wanting to keep the rest for herself. "Because then everyone would want some."
"So, they'd want... it doesn't mean we'd let them have any. It's ours."
"Yes, it is. And that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."
"We're not bottling her 'juice', Rose. I know you love it, and I know that how much you do is more than you've ever loved anything else, but you're going to have to drink it the old fashioned way, just like all three of us know you love to do, and are never denied the privilege of doing."
"But that's just it, Edward. I never want to be. Or to think that I could be, because it was someone else's privilege."
"Someone else's? Maybe you had too much this time, Rose. Or too little air while you had it at all, because I think you're delirious. You know I'd never let anyone else but you have any part of her."
"Today, no, but what about tomorrow? And the one after that? And the one a hundred tomorrows after that one? Will you still not? Or will she be gone? And my heart with her? And in some stranger's hands? Some stranger who could never take care of her like we do. Never love her like we do, and not only in the way we just did, but in every way. What about the tomorrows, Edward?"
I've never seen Rosalie like this. Or heard. The desperation in her eyes, or her voice. The fear...
That what we have now won't stay with us. Won't belong to us and no one else tomorrow. Or any of the others she's worried about that will come after. "Where is this coming from all of the sudden? Is there something I don't know? Did she tell you something? Is she unhappy and not telling me that she is?"
"No. She's not. You know she's not. And that she wouldn't... tell me anything and not you."
"Then what, sweetheart? What are you so afraid of?"
"Of us–you–not giving her enough. To stay happy."
"You were definitely oxygen deprived, because you know damn well that I–"
"I'm not talking about your cock, Edward. We all know there's more than enough of that. I'm talking about other things. Things that are firmer, more solid. And longer lasting. And–" She stops, glares at me glaring at her, and then whips around and grabs the kitchen towel from the counter where she undoubtedly threw it after she was done drying the dinner dishes. And then whips back around and whips me with it. "Would you get your mind off of your dick for two seconds? I'm not kidding! And not trying to get a rise out of you. Bella can have that privilege. Well... for tonight. I don't want to give mine up forever..."
"I didn't ask you to," I tell her, though it might get me towel-whipped again.
Which it does. Before she exasperatedly looks up at me, and I see how serious she really is. And how worried, about Bella. Worry, that even though I don't think she should be feeling at all, because I don't think she has any reason to, I'll do anything I can to understand, so that I can take it away. "What do you think I'm not giving her enough of, sweetheart?"
"Everything else. The kind of everything that most girls dream of."
Now we're getting somewhere. "Most girls? Like you?"
"I'm hardly like most girls, Edward. And you know it."
"What I know is that you're beautiful. And important to me. One of the most important people in the world to me."
"Then tell me what I want to know, Edward. That she is, too. One of those most."
"You already know that she is, Rosalie."
"Yes, I do... but does she?"
A soft, sweet "Yes" comes from behind us. Bella's soft, sweet yes. And then she does, comes from behind us to stand between, the exact place we both want her to be. With a little sass. "I do. But I might know more if you weren't keeping him from bringing me my juice."
Rose nods her head, and hands her the glass she filled for her with a sigh. That I think meant more than one thing. Because our soft, sweet Bella is still softly and sweetly and completely naked. And perfectly and sassily happy to be. "And that other thing I thought he was going to bring me. That I, personally, could never get enough of, though, like you said, there's more than."
"So, shut up, Rose? And go to bed? So that you can have it?"
"No," she tells her. "I'd never say that to you."
"You can."
"But I wouldn't. Just like you'd never say it to me, and Edward would never say it to either of us."
That's my girl. "Never, because I'm not crazy."
"And are crazy about both of us."
My smart, worried about nothing girl. Unlike my other, who is just as smart, but not nearly as relaxed. "That, I definitely am, but I think Rose was afraid that you might not know it."
"Well, that's just silly. Of course I know it. How could I not?"
"I think maybe she just doesn't pay enough attention," I offer. "Your perfection tends to distract her. And then your generosity, and love for her said distraction, lets her bury herself in both... and she doesn't see anything else."
Rosalie flips me off, though she knows my 'I think' assessment is dead on.
"Anytime, my snarky friend," I offer now.
And she can't help but smile at that, and me now, but as I've already made clear, I'm not what or who she wants anytime–and for all–most. Bella is.
And I think I understand now, what she wanted to talk about. She truly does love her. All of her, with all of herself. And is worried that I don't feel the same way.
Worry I know she's wrong to feel, or have in any way. "I love her, Rosalie. And just because you may not have ever heard me tell her that, doesn't mean that I haven't, or that she didn't hear me say it."
She studies my face for a moment, and then looks at Bella, to study hers. Not that she has to...
Because what's on Bella's isn't buried or hidden under anything. Because I do give my–our–perfect girl enough. Her happiness is solid. Firm. And will, hopefully, last forever, because that's how long I want to keep her, too. Which is exactly what I think she was trying to tell me when she followed me in here. What I know she was.
That this is it. She is it. The one for us.
And that she wants me to bottle it and put a label on it. And a ring, perhaps, so that she never gets away.
"I think we should go shopping tomorrow, Edward," she suggests, telling me that I'm exactly right about what she wants, and thinks Bella deserves. "Just you and I, and buy our perfect girl a perfect present."
"I think we should, too," I agree with ease, and a smile at said perfect girl, who's perfectly content with our plans, though she couldn't know what they are. And knows only what she heard, that they involve a present for her.
A present at the perfect time, because her birthday is in a few days, though we won't save it for that. She'll get it before, and on that day that will come after, many others I that already have hidden away for her. And that Rosalie already has the same. Before, together, as a team, we'll spoil and celebrate her in every way we can. Like we both want to do for the rest of our lives.
And like I want to do now. Because Bella standing naked and happy–and happy to be–between us...
Need I explain?
"Enough talking," I inform them both, with no argument from either of them. And then I take Bella's glass from her hand, and set it on the counter, before I sweep her off of her bare-like-the-rest-of-her feet, and out of our kitchen.
She tucks herself into me, completely happy and completely trusting that whatever I want now will make her. Just like that first night... almost two years ago... when I made her the center of our lives. Because Rosalie and I... we need something in the middle. Something to connect us. Strengthen us. And make us unbreakable.
Someone.
We need Bella...
Our perfect girl.
"You coming?" I call over my shoulder, because I don't hear Rosalie behind me.
But then I do. "Of course I am. There's nothing else I'd rather do."
Which I know isn't true...
Because the thing she'd rather do is in my arms. Where I just promised her she'd always be. And in hers. And anywhere else she wants her.
After I have her where I want her. Because she already did.
So, even though I know she's jealous as hell right now...
About where my 'I'll challenge you to a duel anytime, babe' tongue is, in her favorite place between Bella's spread wide on our bed legs...
Before they're not spread wide at all and clamp like a vice around my neck...
She doesn't dwell on it. Because she's a team player, too. And loves this game, no matter what position I let her–or give her no choice but to–play.
And after watching for a moment, jumps right in. And crawls right up on our bed and pulls my hard-again cock from its restraints and right into her mouth. That even though I know would rather have something else...
Makes me feel like there's nothing else in the world it could ever want.
Ever, in this, my perfect life.
And hers.
And our Bella's.
Whose gets more perfect, and more fulfilled as she reaches down, while forcing me further into her perfect, pulsing want, and pulls Rosalie's panties down to expose hers.
Another of my rules, that she's only too happy to follow. And that I don't need to but can't help but to tell her to. "That's right, pretty girl... show her exactly how good I make you feel. She needs to know."
I hear and feel Rose's deep chuckle, but then all I hear and feel is a 'God bless our life, Edward' moan, because our girl's silky lips are beneath her and hers now, while hers are wrapped in thanks around me.
Because our perfect girl is between us.
And perfectly happy to be.
"Mmmmmm..."
x
I've had this idea for a new WIP in my head (courtesy of Chloe Masen, who has more in hers than she could ever write, I think), but this isn't it. I know I don't have the time right now to fairly devote to that, but I did have the time for this. And the idea, that I thought I'd share with you. And just did.
Thanks for reading (if anyone did), and I'll see you the next time I have something to share.
hgi