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"There's a pile of dirty dishes in the sink."

I rolled my eyes as I walked through the front door, tossing my purse onto the sofa. It was a known fact that I could be away from the house for weeks at a time and still come back to a messy home. Edward simply refused to leave the comfort of his recliner chair long enough to help out. How he survived on his own after all of these years? I will never know.

I kicked my ballerina-styled flats from my feet, shutting the door with my foot as I made my way into the house, brushing past him in a vague effort to coax him off his chair. I could feel his eyes following be into the kitchen, as if making sure I was following his warning. I refused to give in that easily, instead making my way to the refrigerator in a desperate search for a soda. I wasn't necessarily angry at the fact that I was the one to do everything in the house, but I wasn't exactly thrilled either. With that in mind, I muttered softly beneath my breath.

"If you want the damn dishes done, maybe you should get up off your ass and do them during the day..." I pulled the tab on the soda until the can opened, the soft sound of fizz catching my ear. Apparently it was enough of a distraction to miss Edward coming into the kitchen behind me, chuckling in sarcasm at the words he caught me saying beneath my breath.

"You seem to be forgetting, Isabella, that I provide for you in more ways than one."

I spun on my heels, my body jumping slightly enough to spill a bit of the newly opened soda on the white tile of the kitchen floor. I hadn't expected him to be in the kitchen, let alone standing nose-to-nose with me. His eyes catching a hold of mine, that big, cheesy grin stretched out across his face as he reminded me for the millionth time.

"Would you like a medal for being born rich? I know how hard it must be to have everything handed to you. I'm surprised someone hasn't honoured your hard work already..." I let my words trail off, an obvious hint of sarcasm tainting them. I brought the can of soda to my lips, taking a small sip in an effort to hide the smirk I wore.

Edward and I often involved ourselves in petty little arguments much like this. He'd get upset that I didn't do a chore to perfection; I'd get upset that he never helped out around the house. He would remind me that it's his money we're living off, while I bitched about him not having to work for it. The thing about these little arguments was that they, in the end, were all in fun. We were never truly angry with each other, nor did we really mean any of the hateful things we said. The two of us separately were very independent, stubborn and selfish people. Together, we struggled to dominate the other for our own, sick amusement and personal enjoyment.

It was evident that my fake words struck a nerve, his eyes narrowing significantly. I tapped my fingers impatiently against the cold, tin can, refusing to let my soft stare leave his. We struggled against each other silently, our eyes fighting a battle of their own. Our bodies standing their ground in refusal to submit.

"Did they forget to teach you how to carry on a conversation in prep school?" Those were the words that did it in. His arms gripped mine fiercely, slamming me back against the cold door of the refrigerator. The soda I held in my hand fell to the floor, the gurgling of the liquid escaping onto the floor filling the air. His hands wrapped around my small wrists, pinning them above my head before jerking my body forward and slamming it into the appliance once again. A small giggle escaped my lips at his roughness.

"You have quite the mouth on you, Isabella. I'd hate to see it get slapped one of these days..." I rolled my eyes at his attempt to be intimidating, knowing full well that my Edward was incapable of ever laying a hand on a woman, let alone his wife. I felt his grip tighten in my wrists upon seeing my sarcastic reaction, his body pushing against mine in a successful pin.

"You have quite the hands on you, Edward. I'd love to see them do some work." I smirked up at him, straightening out my body in an effort to stand taller than I really was. It didn't matter if Edward had been pinned against the fridge like this, or if he were holding me over the ledge of a cliff, I refused to give into his tempers. I refused to lose a single one of our games.

I felt his grip loosen, my wrists slipping out of his large hands. I let them fall to my sides, though refused to let my eyes move from his. Edward took a few steps backwards, chuckling to himself. He crossed his arms over his chest, taping his bottom lip with his index finger as if he were studying me like a piece of art. I raised an eyebrow in amusement, trying to assess the situation, trying to read his intentions. He was never the first to back off.

"My Isabella, it would appear as though you were begging for punishment." I blinked in disbelief at his words, opening my mouth to deny such a ludicrous assumption when his words cut me off. "Is that what you want? Do you want to be punished?"

"I wasn't aware I was a four year old," I shot back. I knew he didn't mean for his words to come off as belittling and demeaning, though when we played such childish games, I couldn't help but use everything I had against him. If that meant pretending to be offended to gain some guilt on his behalf, I would happily stoop that low.

I watched with an amused expression as he made his way back to me in one, quick stride. His large hands cupping my face as he forced me into a rough kiss. His lips moved eagerly against mine, hardly giving us the space or the time to breathe. I just as eagerly returned the passionately desperate kiss, melting almost instantly against his body. The sick bastard was quite hard to resist...

"Mm, Edward. Get off." My words were nothing more than mumbles against his lips, hardly audible through our kiss. It didn't matter if he heard me clearly or not, my protest against his actions would always be ignored. I sighed softly in defeat, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck in an effort to draw him closer, to press my body fully against his. I loved the contact, whereas he loved the action. His hands found the end of my t-shirt, forcing my hands away from his body as he pulled it up over my head and tossed it to the kitchen floor. My hands worked the buttons on the front of his, while his hands trailed down my now bare stomach in an effort to manipulate my jeans from my lower half.

I let him shrug his shirt off his shoulders, watching it tumble to the floor along with my jeans. I wasted no time in slipping out of my panties while Edward tore my bra from my body. My hands finally tugging his jeans and boxers down to the floor, adding to the large pile of our clothing that was discarded in less than fifteen seconds.

"Since you've been so very, very naughty Isabella... You can forget about foreplay." I scoffed at his scruffy sounding words. Some punishment, I didn't receive foreplay even on a good day. Something as complicated as preparation was lost over the two years of our marriage. "So why don't you bend your pretty ass over or... Better yet, get on all fours."

I wasn't sure what initially inspired my husband's fascination with that particular position. Part of me wondered if it was out of jealousy. Though I assured him countless times I was never physically attached to Jacob during the time he had left, he still seemed threatened by him from time to time. Something that made me laugh openly in their faces about. Jacob always stated that Doggy Style was his absolute favourite during steamy conversations (as friends). I figured Edward probably wanted to show me he could do it better than anyone. A little foreplay from time to time would surely make it way better, but arguing about it was pointless.

I decided to obey his order, instantly dropping to my hands and knees on the cold, tiled kitchen floor. It wasn't a shocker that we didn't make it to the bedroom – we rarely ever did. The kitchen, however, was one of the least popular places we ever bothered with. I felt him position himself behind me, his knees forcing my legs further apart as he positioned his erection at my entrance. Placing one hand around my waist and the other firmly on the small of my back, he thrust himself into me in one, harsh movement. I felt a soft whimper escape my lips, my hips instantly driving back against his in a vain effort to take his entire length. Despite his earlier statement of punishment, Edward didn't refuse me. Instead, he drove his hips harder and quicker into mine, the sound of skin against skin contact sounding throughout the kitchen.

Both hands grasped my hips roughly, squeezing to the point of bruising; another thing that wasn't entirely a surprise. Our sexcapades usually left one or both of us limping with countless bruises scattered across our bodies. I don't think that either of us truly minded the minor injuries that came from such activities; we were both quite satisfied at the end of the day, so why did it really matter?

I could hear myself moaning loudly, despite my attempts to keep quiet. The slightest sounds I made during sex only boosted his ego and inflated his head more and more by the second. At the end of it, he thought he was the king of all men, and remained incredibly cocky for hours to come. It was quite irritating to say the least, which is exactly why my lips were always sore. I continuously bit them as he pounded into me, trying to refrain from screaming out in complete ecstasy though failing miserably.

I dipped my hand in between my legs, my fingers teasing and massaging my clit gently as I continued to grind my small hips back against his. I could tell he was close. His laboured breaths, his throaty groans, and the way his grip tightened against my body – all clear indicators. I also knew that he rarely thought about me when he was that close to an orgasm, often forgetting that I too, desperately craved one so I was often left to fend for myself.

Our orgasms hit at roughly the same time, his hips pounding roughly into mine one last time before pulling away completely. I sighed happily, though knew asking for any sort of cuddling afterwards was basically prohibited. I watched as Edward gathered his clothing, only pulling his pants back on though leaving the button and belt undone. I watched as he tossed the other clothing onto the back of his recliner chair before reclaiming his previous seat. "There's still a pile of dishes, Isabella." With a sigh, I stood up and slowly pulled each article of clothing back onto my body. Though the sex between the two of us was fanatic, everything else in our relationship was rather useless.

I could hear Edward rooting on his favourite football team as I started on the massive pile of dishes he had dirtied and downright refused to wash after himself. It wouldn't have bothered me half as much if he had done a single thing around the house this month, though of course, he didn't. With my hands in the warm, bubbly water of the sink, washing a plate beneath the running tap, my eyes glanced out the window in front of me.

Apparently we had a new neighbour. I vaguely remember hearing whispers about someone new in town, though I rarely bothered to throw myself into the gossip. A U-Haul truck was parked outside of the house directly next to ours, countless men unloading furniture. I watched with interest, noticing the small things. There was only one bed. There were no toys for any kids, no pets running out in the front yard. I was quite confused as to why only one person would buy such a beautiful and expensive house that is normally meant for large families.

My interest piqued as a beautifully expensive, yellow car pulled into the driveway. I was useless when it came to cars, I had no idea what make or model it was, but from the pristine look of it, I knew it probably cost more than my house and college tuition combined.

I continued to watch, not quite caring that I was in fact staring as a beautifully tiny woman immerged from the car. She was around my height, maybe half an inch shorter if anything. Quite skinny, quite perfect. Her hair was cut short, flying out beautifully in every direction. Even with such a distance between us, I could see the incredible beauty she possessed. A super model perhaps.

Edward's scream from the living room as his team scored a touchdown made my body jump so harshly in fright, my hand dropped the plate back into the water causing a bubbly mess of water to splash all over the front of my t-shirt, and dampen the tips of my hair. I glared into the living room where he was jumping for joy, though my look went unnoticed as he didn't even glance up.

With a frustrated sigh, I glanced back out the window only to see the beautiful woman standing inches from the window, smiling at me. I let out a startled scream, again dropping the soapy dish, though this time I slipped on the water that had spilt from Edward's rooting, falling to the kitchen floor.

"Could you shut up in there? Christ, it doesn't take a god damn circus to wash the dishes, Isabella." If I could have, I would have punched him square in the nose at this point. I was growing increasingly frustrated, lying on the kitchen floor in a wet mess, with a potential peeping tom glancing in my windows. I lifted my head, only to feel a set of hands against me from behind, helping me to my feet. I was about to turn around to thank Edward with a kiss for his unexpected graciousness when the same little woman caught my eyesight.

She was in my house. In my kitchen, helping me to my feet. I raised an eyebrow in amusement, opening my mouth to speak but she beat me to it.

"Hi! I'm Alice! I'm moving in next door. I seen you from the window and thought I should come over and at least say 'hi' since we'll be living beside each other."

Instead of offering her hand for a friendly shake like most people, Alice instead threw her arms around my soaked body, pulling me into a tight hug. I awkwardly patted her back, not quite sure how to react to the upbeat, perky stranger.

"I'm Bella, it's... nice to meet you." I watched as Alice made her way over to the fridge, placing a magnet over a piece of paper she had pulled out of her bra before waving a good-bye and walking out the door. Curiously, I made my way over to the fridge, pulling in paper out before glancing down at it.

555-703-9991
I can do it much better than he can.