For Katalina -
Your strength astounds me.
Because a Cure should be found in our Lifetime.
A Craving for Chianti
"May I offer you dessert today Isabella?"
I dab the white linen cloth to my lips as my server, Emmett tops up the last of my wine.
He leans on the chair across from me as I relax into the leather banquette. Emmett clears my plate with a knowing grin, amused once again that I with my petite frame could finish such a large dish on my own. You never would have known that forty-five minutes ago, porcini-stuffed ravioli drizzled with white truffle butter and sprinkled with parmigiano reggiano made its way from the kitchen to the place mat before me. If I could, I would have brought the plate to my lips and licked it clean.
"What do you think Emmett?" I smile, both of us knowing I can't resist.
"I'll have Chef surprise you."
"He always does," I mumble.
"He's pretty awesome."
Emmett winks as he departs and the mere mention of him sends tingles down my spine.
I finger the stem of the wine glass thoughtlessly and close my eyes, letting the soothing voice of Frank Fly me to the moon.
A scrumptious shiver taunts at my skin, from the lobes of my ears to the nape of my neck all the way down to the open peep of my toes. I don't have to open my eyes to know that Emmett isn't there to present me with my dessert.
I take a deep breath and steal a glance at the man standing before me.
I start at his shoes, black and rubber-soled, that hold his pose casually. Up a little higher to the small black and white checks of his uniform pants. He's not wearing an apron today, but still wears his jacket. My eyes move up, slowly, savouring the moment until I see his face. One arm is hidden behind his back and the other is bent towards his face. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. His thumb traces his full bottom lip, just above the sexy stubble that peppers his chin and jaw line.
I am suddenly parched and swirl the wine in my glass before I bring it close to my lips. I hear his breath hitch when the glass touches my mouth and our eyes finally meet.
His beautiful eyes are not the sage green that I have had countless dreams of, they are black like liquorice. They are searing into me and I feel my blood start to simmer.
I tip the glass but don't break our connection. The full body of the Chianti awakens my taste buds as it pours like velvet down my throat. My lids close and I hum in appreciation as I feel my favourite wine spread through my body.
I hear him groan low and deep in his throat and see him fidget with his collar, like he's too hot in his own skin.
And he is. Strikingly so.
"Isabella." A hint of an Italian accent curls around his tongue; his voice is low and luscious and makes the hairs on the back of my neck spike at attention.
"Chef," I answer back, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
"Edward. I've told you before, please call me Edward."
"Edward," I whisper.
His smile stuns me to silence. I want him closer but am afraid of his intensity.
"I brought you this," he motions to the small dish I didn't realize was before me and I can't help the giggle that escapes me.
"Hmmmmm, you're my own personal devil." He looks shocked and intrigued at the same time. "Oh God that sounds so rude. I'm sorry. I just meant that it's like you know precisely what I can't say no to. This is exactly what I was craving but didn't know it."
"I'm so glad, Isabella."
He shifts on his feet, and that's his tell. He's nervous, he'll be leaving soon.
I suppose I'll have to wait another week to see if he'll open up to me more.
One week he's shy, the next more confident. It's in the latter that I learn more about him. He's told me about his family and how he and Emmett have known each other for years. I've told him about my parents and how I only have one real friend named Rosalie.
For close to a year now, I've been dining here and it was only a few months ago that I finally had the pleasure to meet the man who filled my body with deliciousness.
Food.
His food.
Delicious food.
Ever since, I have been sure to clear my schedule once a week so that I can have my fill of him; just enough to settle my stomach for the next seven days. The mere sight of him and his food feed my body in different ways.
I take the spoon between my fingers and scoop a healthy portion into my mouth.
The rich chocolate mousse is folded with fresh whipped cream and my tongue appreciates every ounce of it.
I'm moaning again and feel my chest heat when I notice Edward's eyes fixed on my lips.
"You are the devil, this is superb," I groan.
And now I'm embarrassed and want him to leave so he doesn't watch me combust at the table. Then again it would slice at me if he did because after meeting him all those months ago and after he takes time to leave his busy kitchen to come and see how my meal is, I just don't want to stay away from him anymore.
I contemplate how the little courage I have will morph itself into asking this exquisite specimen on a date when I hear him clear his throat.
"Isabella?" his fingers play with the rungs of the rustic-looking wooden chair and it's as if I can feel them dance on my skin.
"Yes?" I say, and then close my lips around another healthy helping of dessert, mostly because it's delicious but also because my nerves have yet to settle.
"I was hoping that if you have time next week– that maybe, if, you know– I'd really like to–"
With my left hand, I strangle the linen napkin in my lap hoping, wishing, and praying that he wants what I want.
"Oh, for God's sake! Isabella, will you go out with my man here? He thinks you're extremely beautiful and incredibly sexy and he wants to spend time getting to know you." Emmett claps Edward loudly on his back then he's gone again, and I freeze with my third spoonful in midair.
Edward groans and mumbles curses as he hides his face with his long fingers, fingers that made me my delectable dessert and my mouth-watering meal.
I want his fingers.
"Yes," I answer. Yes! I want his fingers on me and Yes! I want to go out with him, "Yes."
"Yes?" Edward says, surprise marring his gorgeous face.
"I'd love to."
Emmett's laugh is heard across the restaurant floor as he raises his fist in triumph giving it one hard punch into the air.
xxx SU4K xxx
Edward and I talk on the phone throughout the week and amazingly there's no awkward newness to it at all.
He tells me that his social life is limited and only exists because Emmett drags him out for beers once in a while.
I tell him Rosalie is a shrew and she forces me to jog miles at crazy hours of the morning.
He tells me about his culinary education and how he was adamant to move to Italy and live with his Nona for two years, learning how to put love into his dishes and how to emulate her recipes.
I tell him that I am recovering workaholic. How I read a quote somewhere saying, "Do not let making a living prevent you from making a life." After reading that, I cut my hours at work. I started taking walks in the evening to relax myself from a busy day and that's how I came across his restaurant.
I am happily surprised when he sends me texts in the middle of the day, telling me that he's planned out the menu for our date, or that he just wants to say hello.
I feel giddy when I hear the chime on my phone and see that he's left me a new message. They're progressively getting riskier, and I love every moment of it.
I think he does too.
Are you still up for meeting me this Monday? – E
I'm up for anything. Are you? – B
Oh, Miss Swan. You have no idea. – E
I think I have an inkling. I hope I'm not alone in that. – B
Trust me, Isabella. I've got more than an inkling for you. – E
Uhhhh – B
Oh shit! Was that too much? – E
God no! I feel like I'm going to combust over here. I hope I survive so that I can make our date. – B
I hope so, Isabella. Voglio cucinare per te- E
? ! # - kaboom! I have officially combusted. By the way, what was it you just wrote? – B
I want to feed you. – E
I want you to. - B
xxx SU4K xxx
Edward shows up at my door, looking utterly delectable out of his chef whites. A shy, sexy smile is on his lips as he presents me with my favourite bottle of Chianti.
I force myself to refrain from attacking him in my apartment foyer.
I am surprised to find ourselves at the restaurant and I couldn't be happier. It was normally closed on Mondays so we had the entire place to ourselves.
Once we arrive, he ties an apron around his waist and takes my hand to guide me towards his work station.
"May I?" he asks, all timid like the Edward that was too afraid to ask me out in the first place.
I nod yes but to what, I didn't know.
His hands are around my waist as he pulls me close to him, his body hard and warm against my own.
Without warning, he lifts me off the floor and gently places me on the prep table. He looks down at me, his eyes hinting at the playful Edward that had been texting me all week.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth," Edward requests.
"Mmmmmm, kinky," I mumble.
"Not yet," he whispers so low I'm not sure I am supposed to hear.
"I told you I wanted to feed you, now open up."
I taste tomatoes and herbs and…
"Cozze," he says, his Italian accent spot on, "they're mussels."
Edward speaking English is like silk on my skin, but Edward speaking Italian? Heaven help me.
The night goes on much like this, his body close to mine, his breath on my skin, his fingers feeding me morsels of scrumptiousness.
He's effortless in the kitchen, confident and so overwhelmingly sexy. I try not to stare at his ass when he grills fresh Mediterranean vegetables then drizzles them with his secret signature dressing.
Edward walks over to me, eyes dark and wild. With his bare fingers, he picks a deep purple eggplant. It glistens from the sauce and his tongue escapes to catch the excess.
My breaths are shallow as I watch him tilt his head back and swallow.
"You want?" Edward asks as he stands to my side, his warmth transferring to me. My legs are crossed, and I tighten them further, willing the heat to cool.
He places the platter next to me and his hand tentatively rests on my knee. We inhale sharply in unison, the welcome burn from his touch boiling my skin.
I nod again, wanting a taste of his creation, wanting him.
Edward uses his fingers again to choose a perfectly cut golden pepper from the platter and swirls it around the bottom of the dish, coating it with dressing.
He holds the piece to my lips, taunting me by slowly dragging the portion from one side of my mouth to the other.
He pushes the grilled vegetable in, the tip of his finger sneaking in as well and lingering for a second too long before he releases it from my mouth and sucks it into his own.
His eyes are transfixed to my lips and I try to chew slowly, wanting this moment to last.
Edward is so close I can smell him. His scent is dark, exotic spice and man.
"Adoro guardare la tua bocca...le tue labbra. Sei incredibilmente affascinante"
"Pardon me - what did you say?" My voice sounds ridiculously airy.
"I said that I love watching your mouth…your lips. You're unbelievably sexy."
"Your words…You have no idea what you do to me," I whisper.
"Fuck," he mumbles low.
Edward curls a strand of my hair around his finger then hooks it behind my ear.
I'm prickling with expectation. I've been dreaming about how his lips would taste for months.
My palms are damp and I can feel a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. It doesn't help that it's warm in the kitchen. But then he leans in to me and inhales deeply and even though I'm hot all over, his closeness sends shivers all over my body.
"Bellissima," he whispers.
And then…
Soft lips on mine.
A sigh to match my own.
I open to him and he opens to me.
He slides his tongue unhurriedly to meet mine.
Learning me.
I do the same.
His fingers weave through my hair, tilting then cradling my head in his hands.
He opens me further; pushing his tongue inside my mouth with more confidence.
It makes me hot.
Hotter.
I shift to uncross my legs and grab his shirt, pulling him to me.
I want him closer. I want his heat against my own.
I want, I want, I want.
Edward groans and grips my hips, pulling me to the edge, and he's there.
We fit, all heat and hard and soft aligning.
And I want more.
I am drowning and he's the only one that can save me. But I don't want to be saved; I want to fall, deep and free.
Our kiss grows more desperate, our fingers discovering and claiming what's new.
"We should stop," he says but he doesn't. His mouth finds my neck, again breathing me in. His fingers sneak underneath the strap on my shoulder and he exposes the skin there, pushing the fabric to the side. His tongue wastes no time savouring new flesh.
Licking and biting. Tasting and sucking.
"Ungh, Edward," I moan as the feeling of his mouth on me makes me drunk with pleasure.
He groans and pushes himself just far enough away to look me in the eyes, but holds our bodies tightly together, like he can't bear to let go.
"I know we should stop. I wanted to take you on a proper date. I didn't want you to think that this is all I wanted from you."
His confession only makes me want him more.
I pull him impossibly closer, my legs wrapped around his waist.
"I've wanted you to ask me out for months now. I want more. I want this," I profess, my hand resting on his heart. "But to be honest, right now, I want you."
I kiss him hard, taking charge, showing him just how much.
His response is instant; he takes over. One hand spread wide across my back while the other massages my behind. I moan into his mouth losing myself in him and loving it.
I break the kiss and lick the stubble at his neck, biting lightly and wanting more.
"Are you still hungry?" he struggles to ask.
"Yes," I answer and pull him back for more of his lips on mine, "but not for food."
xxx SU4K xxx
The ride to his condo is quick and full of tension.
Our anxiety rapidly eases once his mouth is on mine again. The path from his front door to the bedroom lacks introduction. We are too needy with our desire for one another that nothing else matters.
Suddenly I'm nervous and I pull my lips from his. It's been so long since I've been with a man; and never a man like Edward.
He sees my hesitation and settles us gently, sitting side by side on his bed, his palm cupping my cheek and his smile shy.
"Isabella, we don't have to do anything. We can just sit…talk-"
"No! God, no. I want this. I want you. It's just…" I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air and my heart with courage, "It's been a while and I'm afraid I won't be enough."
"You're perfect," he says and his lips cover mine chastely, "Stai con me questa sera. Voglio svegliarmi accanto a te. Voglio preparare la colazione per te."
I look at him in question and he shakes his head in amusement.
"Hold that thought," he says as his fingers trace the outline of my face and he leaves a brief kiss on my forehead.
He departs the room and I wring my hands in my lap, leaving me to wonder why he chooses that moment to abandon me.
I smile when he returns, a glass of wine in his hand, the liquid just enough for a couple of sips.
"You always seem more relaxed after a taste of this." He shrugs and I reach forward for his offering.
"No, Isabella. Let me." He takes his place again and lifts the wine to my lips slowly. I tilt my head slightly and take a tiny sip. The Chianti does its dance down my throat and it's familiar and so good.
He places the glass at my lips again and I watch his eyes as he watches my mouth. This time, before I'm able to fully swallow, he tastes me.
Lips and teeth and tongue collide. We are ravenous with need.
My zipper skims down my spine and his shirt is pulled over his head. My shoulder straps fall and his belt clanks free. My dress lands on the floor and the buttons of his fly tear open.
We are skin on skin with very little fabric between us.
Edward lies upon me, his kisses abundant.
My hands roam his body, kneading with abandon.
"So beautiful," he sighs into my neck, moving lower and cupping my breasts. His thumbs graze at my nipples and I arch into his hands.
His gaze is intense, a man starved.
I see his desire for me as he removes the last of my clothing. I feel it as he takes the straining peak of my nipple in his warm mouth. I succumb to it as he lowers still.
He spreads me open, his fingers light at the touch. His breathing is heavy; it teases the most sensitive part of me. His tongue on me is gentle, patient, learning.
His eagerness is arousing. He reads my body like an open book.
His tongue grows firm with its strokes, his fingers quicken their pace inside me. It's overwhelming, how swiftly he has taken my pleasure by storm.
My fingers find his hair and pull him closer as my orgasm bubbles deep in my stomach.
"Yes, Isabella, I want to taste you on my tongue."
And his words spike the temperature throughout my body. Without shame, I ride his mouth. His fingers dig deeply into my skin, holding me to him, my solid foundation.
"Oh God, Edward! Yes!" I cry. Flashes of white explode behind tightly closed lids.
I am spent but still needy.
I pull at the last of his clothing, wanting him free and inside me.
He covers my boneless body with his, all hard and ready and blazing with want.
I grip him in my hand; he's large and so solid.
He is steel.
"Oh fuck, Isabella, please. I need– I want you so badly…"
I tease his tip against my wetness, stroking down his shaft as his head penetrates me.
He stills and inhales deeply, looking down at me with reverent eyes.
He covers my lips with his own before he thrusts again, deeper this time, giving me time to adjust.
My hips buck up to meet his and he dives deeper until there's nowhere left to go.
I tilt up again and dig into the firm muscles of his arms, knowing, feeling another release in me is close at hand.
"I want you, Edward, I want all of you," I confess.
"Oh, God!" his voice is strained.
He rocks faster, his tongue is in my mouth, invading. His fingers find my clit and he rubs with just the right amount of pressure.
The bliss is indescribable.
It shoots through me, the heat, the fire. It spreads so fast, it is wild.
I feel him everywhere, in every inch, every molecule.
He's under my skin. He's buried himself there, cemented himself to me.
I crave it…him.
Edward is stunning in his release. His muscles are strained, firm, defined. His face registers pain and pleasure.
It's breathtaking.
He collapses on top of me and I run my fingers down his back. He breathes me in again and kisses me lightly on my forehead.
"What was it you said earlier, with your hypnotic Italian words?" I ask and he laughs gently before his soft lips kiss my throat.
"Stay with me tonight. I want to wake up next to you. I want to make you breakfast."
And I do.
And he does.
Thank you to emc3015, shellshock81 and Alterite for being awesome all day, everyday.
Thank you to Femme Cullen for my purrrrrrrty banner.
Thank you for reading.