A Picture is Worth a 1000 Words Contest
Title: Complicated
Your pen name: MsKathy
Inspirational photo number: 3
To view the photos for this contest visit: http://i618(DOT)photobucket(DOT)com/albums/tt268/Rosalynn7885/contestcollage(DOT)png
Rating: M
Summary: Entry for the 'A Picture is Worth a 1000 Words' contest. Edward escapes in an attempt to better understand Bella. Why is she always leaving him? It's complicated.
If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this contest visit:
http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/a_picture_is_worth_a_1000_words_contest/76199/
~o~
A/N: Thank you to my awesome beta, TwilightMundi, who makes everything pretty. Thanks also to mjinaspen, spargelkun, and tarasueme, who gave me essential and much appreciated feedback.
She'd left again.
She was always leaving.
I'd fallen asleep for what felt like thirty seconds. Every trace of her had vanished, with one notable exception: her panties. Sometimes they were silk, lace, cotton... the material never mattered, just that it was the only part of her she ever left for me.
Fuck.
I didn't even know her name. She hadn't bothered to ask mine, either, and I suspected from her hesitation at times, that it had begun to itch at her brain. She came so loudly, so powerfully with me, and I wanted to hear my name roll from her plump ruby red lips as she did.
Every time she left, I was shattered. When she was gone, I ached for her to return. It might be hours, days, or weeks until the next time I'd see her.
Was I so horrible that she never wanted to introduce me to her friends? Her family? Go on a real date with me?
I opened my dresser to the area I designated as hers. I had saved each pair of panties, in case she ever wanted them back. The truth was, I was just glad that she left me something. Running my fingers along the collection, I deposited the most recent pair. I wandered to my study to get the book.
I wondered what it was that she got out of the situation, aside from the obvious. It was that need to know, that need to understand just one part of her, which led me to my house on the shore. It was peaceful, tranquil, and exactly where I needed to be at that moment.
Sitting in my weathered chair, I paused to observe my surroundings. The pebbles crinkled and crunched beneath me as I listened to the waves lapping at the shore. Opening the book, I devoured every word.
The haunting woman seemed to be the type described in the pages, and that simultaneously scared and thrilled me. It was either that, or accept that she thought I was unworthy of her time outside of fucking, and I was unwilling to do that.
Hours passed, and I was nearly halfway through when I heard a throat clear from my left. I turned to see who was interrupting my quiet.
"How in the ever-loving fuck did you find me here?" I asked, perplexed. Few people knew of my home there.
Our first encounter had been at my place of business, but it was the one and only time I'd seen her there. I was grateful for that, not wanting to mix business and pleasure, as they say. After that, she found me each time. Usually, I would run into her someplace completely innocent – Target, the grocery store, the library, once. We'd exchanged glances, and I knew that was my cue to get home. To get to her.
My free hand went to my hair.
"I always know where to find you," she said, teasing. "Interesting reading material." Her eyebrow lifted in curiosity as she spoke, a smirk on her face.
I pursed my lips. What the fuck. Was she mocking me?
"I don't understand," I said, attempting to keep the hurt and anger from my voice. "I'm trying to understand."
Sighing, I closed the book. Marking my page with the flap, I set it on my chest. We exchanged looks, mine hard and pained, hers still playful and, well... horny. That frustrated me even more, that she seemed to not be taking me seriously.
God, the way her dress fluttered at her bare knees. Needing to focus, I looked away.
"I can't do this anymore," I said quietly.
"Why not?"
Exasperated, I looked back up at her. Was it possible that this wasn't eating away at her, too?
"I don't even know your name! I can make you come five times in one night, watch your face contort in the most exquisite pleasure, but you never even stay for breakfast..." I paused, rubbing my hands up and down my face harshly. Why had this woman affected me so? "Why don't you ever stay? You taunt me with these pieces of fabric; it's all I have of you. All I know of you."
"It's complicated, Edward."
How did she know my name?
The need swelled up inside me, my body responding to her the only way it knew how, and I tried to push it down. The sea breeze had picked up and the bottom of her dress fluttered again, teasing me, calling to me. My gaze traveled up her body, enjoying the way the soft material clung to her curves. My curves.
"It can't be so complicated that you can't even tell me your name."
Pathetic. I was pathetic. A grown man reduced to begging.
Her feet shifted and she crouched beside me. My skin ached and pulsed as she touched my thighs, bringing one of her legs up and over so that she straddled my body.
"Is this not what you are?" I whispered, tilting my head to the book.
Needing to know, needing to hear the words from her, confirmation or denial, had been the worst part of this exchange. She'd offered me nothing yet. No information, no apology, and no fucking name.
She shook her head from side to side. "You were my first, Edward." Her confession spilled from her as a whisper, hitting me like a symphony.
Confusion, chaos, and sadness all hit me at once.
"How?"
Her sculpted shoulders raised and lowered casually. "You were so perfect, so gentle. I knew the moment I saw you."
"Why didn't I know?" I asked quietly. Doesn't it usually hurt?
More shrugging. "It was just one more sign that I was right about you."
Her body inclined toward mine, and the heat of her covered me. Bathed me. Surrounded me.
"What's your name? Please?" I begged, yet again.
She leaned against me, soft breasts against my hard chest, and breathed in my ear for a moment before responding.
"Bella."