MAJOR HOTTIE and the SEXY SPEECH GIRL
A birthday Majorward treat for my dear, sweet, mushball of a friend
Summary: When Major Edward Cullen's father finds himself in need of rehab, will Carlisle's sweet Speech-Language Pathologist be just what the doctor ordered for his dashing but gun shy son?
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
"Carlisle Cullen?"
Bending to his ear, I speak clearly. "Dad, they called us." I stand by his side, dropping my hand near his elbow in case he's in a mood to accept help. He pushes himself forward onto his cane and manages to stand, exerting enormous effort to appear he's not.
I walk him to the kind woman holding open the door. She enunciates slowly and clearly, but not in a condescending manner. "Mr. Cullen, I'm Esme. I'll be your medical assistant for your office visits with Miss Swan."
Dad painstakingly lifts his right hand to shake her hand, ever the gentleman. Despite his diminished condition, his eyes twinkle as they always do in a woman's presence.
"Well, well…well," he plods laboriously along, but Esme waits patiently. "Perhaps I've had a…stroke of…" His now familiar pause is my signal to jump in.
I shrug apologetically at his shameless flirting and the horrible pun he's going to make me finish for him. "Good luck?"
"Yes…that's it," he smiles.
I'm getting better at this game of Guess-What-The-Stroke-Victim-Is-Trying-To-Say, which means less frustration all around. But I can't be with him 24/7, which is why we're here.
Esme laughs gently. "I certainly hope so."
"This…is my…Edward," he informs her, gesturing vaguely toward me.
"Hello, Edward," she says politely.
I remove my cap and shake her hand. "Hi. Should I go back with him?"
"Why don't you give us a chance to get acquainted first? The pathologist will want to meet the primary caregiver at the end of the appointment. Would that be you?"
"Yes," I answer gravely.
Primary caregiver. An ominous title, but a mantle I've taken up since Dad's stroke three weeks ago. I return to the chair in the waiting room and wait to be summoned.
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
"Mr. Cullen, I'm Bella Swan. We're going to be working together today to assess your aphasia. And then, once we know what we're dealing with, I'm going to help you regain your communication skills. Sound like a plan?"
"Can you help me…"
"Sir?" I lean forward to address his needs.
"I can't quite remember…how to ask a girl out…on a…"
Esme giggles from across the room. "He's doing just fine, Bella."
Mr. Cullen grins with the entire left half of his face, but the right is sluggish. He's less than a month into physical therapy, and his prognosis is good. I know from speaking with his PT team that he's a hard worker, dedicated to his recovery. And now, it seems, Esme has provided additional incentive to improve his communication skills.
An hour and a half later, I leave Esme with Mr. Cullen and head toward the waiting area to retrieve the son. Even with the physical distortion of the elder Mr. Cullen's stroke, the resemblance is arresting. Those same grey-blue eyes turn to me anxiously as I enter the lobby, and I can't help but wonder if his father ever looks at him without remembering the peak of his own virility.
"Mr. Cullen?"
He stands immediately and whisks his cap from his head, immediately running the fingers of his other hand over his closely clipped hair. He's dressed in military regalia: green coat and trousers with a khaki web belt, button-up shirt and tie, but I'm not familiar enough to know exactly what kind of uniform he wears.
I can, however, plainly see that he is dangerously handsome in that I'm-not-even-trying kind of way.
"Yes," he answers immediately, worry strangling his voice.
"Hi. I'm Bella Swan, your father's speech pathologist."
He extends his hand with precision, and I shake it. Though I get the sense he could crush a walnut with those long strong fingers, his handshake is appropriately gentle.
"I'm sorry…" I point to the area on his chest where ribbons and stripes and other markings of rank are sewn. "That all appears to indicate great importance, but I don't know what to call you."
"Oh," he says, suddenly shy and fully disarming. He taps a gold-leaf medallion before answering, "It's Major. But please, call me Edward."
Major…wow. He can't be that much older than I am. This kid must be on a fast track.
"Edward, you'll be the one working the drills with Mr. Cullen outside of our appointments?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
Ma'am? Cripes. I'm mush and we haven't even left the waiting room!
"Can I get you to come back to the room so we can discuss a course of treatment and I can explain your role in all this?"
"Of course," he agrees, and I turn back to lead him to the examining room. He skips ahead suddenly, spinning around in front of me and placing his hand at my elbow.
"Before we go in, may I ask you something?" He removes his hand from my skin as if realizing at once it was a bit forward. Not that I was complaining.
"I mean, are you allowed to…" He gestures with that same hand back and forth between us. HIPPA.
"What do you want to know?"
He struggles to phrase the question, and when he finally asks, his voice is shaky. "Can you tell me if he's going to be okay? Like he was…before?"
"If he's willing to put in an effort, and he certainly appears to be, there's no reason he can't regain the majority of his functionality. We'll talk more together, okay?"
I want to hand this man the sun and the moon, but I know it's best not to pump him up with false hope.
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
I pay close attention as Bella describes my father's condition, mild expressive aphasia brought on by stroke-induced damage to the left side of his brain. Meaning he can pretty much carry on normal conversations most of the time, but he may have trouble understanding complex language or finding words lost on the tip of his tongue. Aha! That explains our newest pastime.
Bella's demonstrated a series of drills and clearly won Dad's trust already. Not that he wouldn't be motivated under any circumstances, but having a young, gorgeous, bright, competent, gorgeous…oops, have I already mentioned gorgeous?...therapist will certainly speed the process.
"Research has proven a direct correlation between therapy and improvement. The harder you work, the better your chances."
"Bring it..on," Dad responds, his slightly slower tempo not diminishing his bravado.
Bella chuckles. "Okay, I'm going to want to see you twice a week, and you're to work daily at home together. Esme will help you book your appointments. Let's go six weeks out, Esme."
"Mr. Cullen," Bella says, placing a hand on my father's shoulder, "it was certainly a pleasure meeting you."
Dad traps her there with his good left hand atop hers."Did I mention… my son is…" Oh crap, here we go again. "…an officer?"
Okay, could've been worse.
Bella smiles at me kindly, indulging the old man.
"And a…" he starts. Confusion clouds his features, and though I don't want to say it, I know I have to. And the quicker, the better.
"Gentleman?"
His forehead uncreases, and his smile is so brilliant on the left side I almost don't notice the other unresponsive half. Thanks, he mouths to me.
I feel Bella's eyes on me, and when I finally get up the nerve to look at her, her expression brings a hot blush to my cheeks.
"Yes, I can see that," she says, turning back to my Dad.
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
"How's Major, Senior doing?" Rosalie asks, clamping the Keurig lever down on her third cup of chocolate mint coffee.
"He's making great strides," I respond. "I think Esme promised she'd go out with him when he gets to 90%."
Rosalie giggles, "She can be very persuasive. But I dunno, I think it's the hot son working him over. Hmmmm, I'd like that guy to work me over. I swear, Bella, he's…"
"Okay, okay, Rose. I get the point." And I share the sentiment.
"What's the deal with him anyway? He hasn't made any kind of move on you in all this time?"
I snort. Rose isn't the most patient human. It's a wonder, actually, that she's such an amazing SLP. "All this time? It's only been three weeks."
"Three weeks, six appointments, ten minutes each…that's a whole hour of resisting your considerable charms!"
"Not sure how charming I am while I'm discussing his ailing father with him, Rose."
"Oh, come on, Bella. I've seen the way you've been dressing on Tuesdays and Fridays! But seriously…do you think he might be gay?"
I must admit, I've asked myself the same question repeatedly since I met 'Major Hottie'. "Always a possibility, Rose. Don't ask, don't tell." I'm having a hard time keeping the irritation from my voice.
Unless I'm completely misinterpreting his signals, he's straight as they come. I've scrolled through the possibilities: brutally-handsome-but-painfully-shy; dying-to-ask-me-out-but-feels-it's-inappropriate; doesn't-do-his-best-work-with-his-father-in-the-room; or lastly, just-plain-not-interested.
That last one stings a bit, and I try not to dwell.
"You have Alec this morning?" A shift of topic is in order.
"Yes. I'm so proud of him. He's come such a long way with his stutter."
"You're so great with kids, Rose. I couldn't do it all day."
"They sense I'm on the same emotional plane. It helps. Besides, Alec's Dad is hot."
"And married," I warn sternly, pushing up from the table. "And current in his payments."
"I know, I know. Don't worry, Bella Bean, I'm just giving my eyeballs a nice place to land in between kindergarteners."
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
"When are you gonna make your move?"
"Dad, we're not done with the flash cards," I say, my voice laced with exasperation.
"Shark, tiger, bear. Now, when are you gonna make your move, son?"
"Yeah, Edward. What's your deal-ee-o with Sexy Speech Girl?"
"Not you, too, Emmett," I groan, dropping our homework supplies back in the box and setting the placemats out on the table.
"Yes me, too. What's the holdup, Major? Can't rally the troops?"
"My troops can rally just fine, thank you." Damn if I haven't rallied every damn night since I met Bella. I clench my jaw and lower my voice, so as not to upset our father. "She's Dad's therapist. There's a code of ethics."
"Listen, Major Morality, there's ethics…and there's ethics."
I pull three plates from the cupboard. "Well, thanks for enlightening me, Buddha."
"Edward." Emmett steps in front of me and puts a halt to my perpetual motion. "Ask the girl out, for chrissakes. For Dad's sake. Think how much it will do for his recovery."
"I'll think about it," I promise.
Emmett doesn't get what it's like to be in that room with Bella. To be close to her when she's wearing those tight pants and clingy tops. When I'm supposed to be all about Dad. What would she think of me if I used his condition as an opportunity to hit on her?
Primary Caregiver doesn't include womanizing.
But I can't go on like this much longer. Thoughts of Bella are starting to leak into my work day. And there is no place in tactical strategy for thoughts of soft skin and warm voices. Besides, who wants to have to bat down an erection in front of a battalion of enlisted men awaiting orders? Not cool.
"Well you think good and hard, bro. Because I'm taking Dad to his appointment next Tuesday, and if you haven't asked her out before then, I will! Sight unseen!"
Right, my date with Alice Whitlock next Tuesday. And with no wiggle room in Bella's appointment book to reschedule, I was forced to ask Emmett to take off work. And now, he is clearly planning to leverage that favor to push me into action.
I hate my brother sometimes.
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
"You're at 80%, Mr. Cullen. Very impressive. You keep up the good work!"
"You hear that, Esme?" he calls out.
"Oh, I hear it," she answers, smiling ear to ear while jotting down the results.
"Bella, have I mentioned that my son is in Tactical…what is it again, son?"
Edward looks chagrined. He crosses his arms and answers, "You know what it is, Dad."
I suck in a breath and pray he knows what he's doing. Calling his dad's bluff is a dangerous move. But then again, he's a major in the Marines. He's all about strategy.
Sure enough, Carlisle coughs it up. "Oh…wait, it's coming to me…yes. Intelligence."
"Really?" I can't help but marveling at the reveal. I'd guessed at his potential, based on his rank, but the idea of Major Strategy-Plotter-Mission-Leader-Enemy-Outsmarter Cullen sets my girly parts aglow. "So what does that mean exactly?"
Tell me more, you handsome, intelligent commander!
"Well, Ma'am, I could tell you, but I'd be obligated to kill you," he answers grimly.
Shit, did I just ask for military secrets? Is that like joking about having a bomb in your suitcase at the airport? My blood runs cold and I feel a sweat break out across my forehead.
"Never mind!" I say hastily, holding my hands up before he decides to actually divulge anything top-secret.
Mr. Cullen raps his son's arm sharply with his good hand. "Look what you've done!" he scolds, adding a disapproving shake of his head. Then to me, he adds, "It means he's sharp as a tack, though he doesn't always act that way."
Edward rolls his eyes, and I can't help but giggle. They obviously know each other inside and out, including how to push each other's buttons.
"Oh, phew. I thought I was about to end up in the brig."
Edward chuckles now. "The brig is only for military personnel."
Mr. Cullen grumbles, then says, "Edward, have you told Bella that Emmett will be here on Tuesday?"
Edward looks askance at his father, who lifts a challenging brow in return. "Thanks for reminding me, Dad," he says tightly before turning his attention to me. A slightly pained look clouds his boyish features.
"I have a previous engagement for Tuesday, and my little brother Emmett will be bringing Dad to his appointment. He's familiar with the drill."
"Oh."
Okay, could you please try not to sound so ridiculously disappointed? He's missing one appointment.
But I have to go an entire week without seeing those broad shoulders, those silvery blue eyes, hearing his polite, gentlemanly, intelligent voice…seven days…sigh…
"So, I was wondering…"
Oh shit, I missed something Edward was saying. "Sorry, what?"
He closes the distance between us and takes a quick backwards glance to make sure his father's out of earshot. "Do you have rules about dating patients?"
Huh? I look over Edward's shoulder at his father's expectant face. Is Edward asking me if I'll go out with his DAD?
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
Oh fantastic. She looks horrified. This is going about as well as I'd imagined.
"I don't date patients, Edward," she answers quietly and firmly, her eyes flashing behind me as she speaks.
What the…?
"Oh my god, I didn't mean…" I run a hand nervously over my crew cut and puzzle out how to do this. Jesus, I can move a battalion of men through a war zone in a foreign country and I can't ask a girl out on a date?
"Bella, can you…no, WILL you…? Me? ME! Not a patient. A son of a patient." Oh, son of a biscuit!
I see the laugh roll across her face before I hear the welcome tinkling.
"Are you trying to ask me out, Major Cullen?"
Everything tenses. I force myself to stand proudly and take whatever she chooses to deliver. Mortal combat style. "I am trying like hell to ask you out, Bella. What do you say? Cut a major some slack?"
She leans in closer and winks at me. "I thought you'd never ask."
Her answer registers in stages.
She's amused.
She's been waiting for me to ask.
She winked.
She said yes.
"Are we just about ready to go?" my impatient father calls out, no doubt discerning form our body language that a deal of some sort has been struck.
"Almost, Dad," I answer him, not moving my eyes off Bella for a millisecond. I stand there, hat in my hand and heart on my sleeve. "Tavern on Fifth has a great jazz brunch on Sunday. May I treat you?"
I don't dare ask for a prime weekend night on such short notice.
"Sure," she answers lightly. "Meet you there at 11?"
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
10:52. On time, but not overly eager. I push open the door and rich saxophone tones wrap themselves around me and draw me in. My eyes scan the crowded vestibule. No sign of a uniform. Something tells me the Major is a punctual guy, and he'll be here by eleven-hundred hours.
I proceed to the hostess stand and I'm just about to give my name when a familiar voice calls out, "Good morning," behind me.
I turn, expecting khaki and starch, but I'm met with an entirely different Edward. Major At Ease, Military Casual.
Crisp dress greens have been replaced with this entirely enticing outfit of rolled-sleeve open button down over tight-fitting tee shirt, neatly tucked into slim-fitting belted cargo pants.
Where polished shoes reside Monday through Friday, actual combat boots complete his weekend look. Not as in yuppie-surplus-store-I'm-so-hip-to-wear-these, but actual I've-been-in-real-combat-situations-on-behalf-of-my-country-and-democracy-in-general boots.
The kind of boots that make a girl swoon and wanna peek inside G.I. Joe's boxers to see if he's anatomically correct.
"Hey! I didn't recognize you without your uniform."
"Oh…yeah…well…" Aphasia much, Major? This guy is too adorable for my own good. "I guess I might say the same about you."
"I hardly think my lab coat is much of a disguise."
He smiles shyly and his hand flies defensively to the soft fuzz on his head. Without his heavy coat blocking my view, I feast my eyes on his sculpted arms and trim waist. And when I catch his eye, I see he's doing the same to me. We both shake it off with an embarrassed laugh and just then, the hostess calls out his name.
Edward gestures toward the back of the disappearing hostess with his arm, inviting me to walk ahead. I feel his eyes on my back, and I can sense the warmth coming off his body just behind me, but he's so damn gentlemanly there's not a smidgen of contact. I actually contemplate stopping suddenly.
Get a grip, Bella. Give the guy a chance.
We're led to a table close to the stage, and Edward pulls out my chair for me. I've always thought of myself as a liberated woman, but there is something about this old-fashioned, well-mannered, serious, sturdy man that keeps sucking me further in.
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
Our server comes by, offering drinks. We order two Bloody Marys and Bella asks for more time with the menu, effectively shooing her away. I sit back in my chair, soaking in the jazz and enjoying the relaxing moment. No pressure for conversation. No agenda. And as much as I love the guy…no Dad.
We're both tilted about forty-five degrees in our seats, half-facing the stage and half-facing each other. I suspect her peripheral vision is working just as feverishly as my own, so as not to miss the most subtle of cues. She inclines her body toward me and I eagerly lean in.
"Thanks for suggesting this place. I always forget how much I love to listen to live jazz."
"I find it such a great way to unwind from the week."
"Do you come here often, then?"
I nod. "I try."
"So what's good?" she asks, tipping her menu up and scanning the page.
Your plump, sweet lips. Luckily, I'm trained to not speak every thought that pops into my mind.
"They have a French toast dipped in egg white batter and rolled in crushed corn flakes, pan-fried and then smothered in fresh strawberries and bananas…"
Her giggle puts a halt to my exuberant description and she drops her menu onto the table. "Sold."
"What? You're not even gonna read the menu?" Inexplicably, my face twists into a satisfied grin.
"With a description like that…you think I need to read another word?"
The Bloody Marys arrive, and I order for both of us, adding a request for powdered sugar.
"Bella, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for my father. You've really brought him back to life."
"I can't take credit for all that," she answers. "You and Esme actually had more to do with it than I did."
I shake my head and smile. "Gotta love the old man. He'd do just about anything to capture the attention of a pretty girl."
"Like father, like son?"
Pfffft. I circumnavigate the rim of my glass with the lime wedge, avoiding her eyes. "I don't have a clue how to get a girl's attention."
"What am I, chopped liver?" she teases.
"Hardly," I correct her immediately, checking her face to make sure I haven't inadvertently insulted her. "But I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."
Nothing like stating the obvious.
"You managed," she replies gently, causing me to shake my head anew. "I mean, here we are, right?"
"Only because you took pity on my patheticness and finished the job for me."
"You weren't pathetic. You're sweet. And polite. It's actually quite refreshing."
"You find my ineptitude refreshing, eh? To be honest, Bella, I've always felt like the black sheep of the family where girls are concerned. I breezed through college and Officer Candidates School in Quantico. I can look at a chess board and tell you what will happen thirty moves down the road. But girls? You're all just a huge puzzle I can't solve."
I've often thought that if our mortal enemies were to assemble an army entirely composed of the 'fairer sex' I'd have about as much chance of victory as a one-legged horse at Derby Downs.
She pulls the celery stalk out of the glass and munches on the end, watching me with amusement. "What is it exactly that you are so all-fired busy trying to figure out?"
"I don't know…what to say, how I should act, what you really want…"
"Well, Major, I live less than ten minutes from here, and I would be more than happy to show you exactly what I really want."
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
He chokes on his drink and pounds his fist into his chest. Right in the spot where his Major insignia usually rests.
"Are you okay, sir?" the waitress asks, setting our plates down with concern.
He holds out his hand and nods, continuing to cough and sputter. Poor guy.
She looks at me oddly, no doubt wondering why I'm smiling at my companion's choking spree.
"He'll be okay," I assure her. He just needs to get laid.
She refills our waters and delivers the syrup and sugar shaker, per his request.
"You all right?" I ask sweetly.
He gives me a hint of an accusatory glare. Oh yeah, Major, I take full responsibility for that one.
"Must've been the Tabasco." He says wryly, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
"Could've been the pepper," I add helpfully. "It's pretty spicy…if you're not used to it."
"Indeed," he agrees.
I decorate my breakfast generously with maple syrup and a shower of white powder. With a conscience as clear as a newborn's, I sink my fork between two thick slices of banana and into the crispy bread. Edward watches me with rapt interest as I draw the colorful load into my mouth.
"Mmmmm!" I want to scream out loud it's so damn good.
He breaks into a wide grin as my enthusiasm intensifies.
"Your breakfast is getting cold."
He shakes his head and picks up his fork. Poor guy doesn't know which way is up.
"So what do you have on Tuesday that you can't make your appointment?" I ask, then reconsider. "Oh, shoot, it's not some high-level mission for the Pentagon, is it?"
He finishes swallowing and sets down his fork. "More important than that. A girl I made a commitment to eight years ago."
"Well shoot, Major. Are you married?" I really freaking hope I'm teasing. "Gee whiz, now that I've gone and propositioned you? That would be just my luck."
"No, Bella. Not married." He smiles sadly. "I made a promise to my best friend. One of those sacred battlefield promises that can never be broken."
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Way to make light of his best friend bleeding to death, Bella.
"Don't be," he says immediately. "How would you know?"
"So who's the girl? His girlfriend? Widow?"
He shakes his head. "Daughter. She was three at the time."
"God, that's horrendous, Edward." My eyes fill with tears for a girl I don't even know whose well-being was entrusted to this very worthy man across from me.
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
"Yeah. Jasper and I were inseparable growing up. His parents' marriage was a train wreck and he basically became a member of our family. We did everything together—track, soccer, sneaking into movies…well you can imagine."
I refrain from adding our early shenanigans with girls and marijuana. Why paint myself in a bad light?
"Anyway, Alice is my goddaughter, and on top of that, I promised Jasper I'd always watch out for her. So no matter who Tanya might be dating at the time, Alice and I have a commitment to each other in perpetuity for the annual father-daughter outing at her school. I plan to escort her as long as she'll allow it."
"That's so sweet, Edward."
A tear rolls down Bella's face, and she seems embarrassed to wipe it away. I fold my napkin to ensure a syrup-free spot and reach out to dab her cheek.
"I'm really swift on the first date banter, too, as you can tell." I say sheepishly.
"Oh don't mind me," she soothes. "I have overactive tear ducts. Rosalie calls me 'Bellamoosh'."
Rosalie Hale. I've seen her name on the door placard but we've never met. "She's your partner?"
"Yeah. She's better at keeping her emotions in check than I am. I let her handle the Early Intervention kids—you know, stammers, stutters, lisps."
"Can't take the heat, huh?" I tease lightly.
"No. I don't suppose I'd be too much help in your line of work."
"Probably not," I muse. It occurs to me that this date has taken a huge turn in the southerly direction. Not ten minutes ago, she was offering herself to me on a silver platter, and here we are talking about battle scars and death. Emmett would not approve. Nor would my father, for that matter.
I shake my head at my own nonsense and a small sigh finds its way across the table.
"What's that for?" she asks, drinking down the end of her cocktail.
"I'm so tragically bad at this, that's all. What kind of fool changes the subject when a beautiful girl offers to take him home and show him what's what?"
"Finish your drink, Major," Bella commands in the same non-nonsense tone she uses with Dad. I know better than to disobey.
I feel floaty and fine, about a million times happier walking out the tavern door with Bella than I did entering on my own, nervous as hell of saying the wrong thing or embarrassing myself or just being incompetent. But Bella makes it all so easy.
I squint as the bright daylight hits my vodka-glazed eyes, and quickly pull my Ray Bans from one of my many pants pockets. Bella settles a pair of cat's-eye shades onto her face.
"This way," she directs, looping her hand around my wrist and locking our palms together.
It's really the simple things, my Bella-addled brain puzzles out.
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
Though I've no doubt at his ability to command in the heat of armed combat, I take control of the date once we leave the bar. If hinting at sex is enough to make the guy choke, I know better than to rush the actual act. Edward is more than content to follow my lead.
"Need anything?" I ask perfunctorily, leading him by the hand straight to my bedroom and delivering him to the edge of the bed.
"Mmm hmmm," he answers, nodding slowly and dropping back onto his palms. Sexy.
He blinks slowly as I lift my sweater over my head and slide my bra to the floor.
He licks his lips as I open my pants and tug them down over my hips.
He grunts softly when I step out of my panties and move between his knees.
He crosses his ankles behind my calves and sits forward on the bed, cupping my shoulders in his capable hands.
"God, you are so beautiful," he says appreciatively, just before meeting my lips with his own.
His kiss is gentle at first. I think…I hope…that having a naked girl between his legs has taken some of the pressure off the Will-she-or-won't-she? issue. Take your time, Major. She will.
His thumbs draw soft circles before venturing down my arms, past my elbows, and picking up the curves at my hips. I move my hands to his knees and slide my palms to the top of his thighs. That's when the kissing picks up.
His hands get more insistent, moving around and kneading my fleshy ass. I think the Major might be an ass man, but just in case, I loop my hands behind his neck, granting him full security clearance to everything up front.
Our tongues roll and twist back and forth between us, unable to decide which battleground is more fun. He tastes like sticky sweet syrup and tangy spice, and I'm so carried away by the dizzy kisses that I don't notice his hand has migrated to my chest until he engulfs my entire breast and rolls my nipple between his thumb and fingers.
Egged on, no doubt, by my increasingly needy moans, Edward pulls me closer and explores more freely, both hands darting over every inch of skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When one hand finds my wet folds, I can no longer concentrate on the kissing, and I drop my forehead to his shoulder. All I can manage is uneven panting and intense gratitude as he slips his gloriously long finger inside me and gnashes the heel of his hand against my outer walls. I completely lose my balance as I shudder and quake, and somewhere within the fog of my orgasm, I sense him catching me.
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
"Thank you," she whispers into my neck, placing a small kiss at its base.
I unwrap my legs from Bella's and lightly scratch random patterns along her back until her goose bumps die down. She steps back and lifts her eyes to mine, a feverish flush still covering her face. I'm pretty sure I have a huge smug grin on my face, but Bella doesn't seem to mind. She takes my hands in hers and tugs me forward until we're standing toe to toe. Well, big heavy combat boot to little tiny bare toe, anyway.
I had gotten so caught up in Bella's pleasure, it hadn't really sunk in yet, but now that she's recovered—mostly—a fresh wave of desire and awareness hits me.
Naked girl at twelve o'clock.
Must. Get. Clothes. Off.
Luckily, Bella is thinking along similar lines, and she drops to her knees to unlace my boots. Meanwhile, I work from the top down, shrugging off my outer shirt and making a desperate grab for my pants. By the time I successfully unbuckle my belt, Bella's hands meet mine at the button.
With a devilish smirk, she stills my hands and says, "At ease, Major."
I let my hands fall away and give over control. Her eyes don't leave mine, even as she's got my boxers gathered in her fists at my hips. She halts the frenzied activity long enough to get my unspoken blessing. As she slides down my boxers, and takes in the sight of my bare cock in full salute mode, I grab hold of the hem of my tee shirt and yank it over my head.
Her attention is drawn to my chest by the dog tags jangling together on the chain. Bella slips her hand under the metal tags and reads the lettering, first mine, then Jasper's. She blinks up at me, with complete understanding.
If I know anything about my good buddy Private Whitlock, I know that he'd never be one to cock block his best buddy. I tip up Bella's chin and close my lips over hers. End of conversation.
She slides her palms down my chest and into the valley between my hip bones. I throw my head back and close my eyes as I experience the unbearable pleasure of her hand around me for the first time. When she adds her other hand lower, cupping my balls and making me feel totally surrounded, I can barely hold it together.
As amazing as her warm, soft hands feel as they caress and tug and roll, I know we can do better. Time for the Major to take charge of this operation.
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
His eyes glint with mischief and I'm lifted and dropped onto my back in the middle of my bed without any apparent effort on his part. My head spins and I lose him for a second.
"Where'd you go?"
A disembodied voice past the foot of the bed mumbles, "Too many…damn pockets…cargos…AHA!"
Triumphant, he returns, tossing three condoms onto the comforter.
"Is that all?" I giggle.
He grins, "In that pocket, yeah."
"What'd you do? Buy these in bulk?" I tease.
"Yeah. Costco special. Did you know they don't have shopping bags there?" He opens one of the packets while he's talking.
"Everybody knows that." I pretend not to be fascinated while he rolls it on, but damn, the Major is well armed. And fully cocked.
I can't help the giggle as I enjoy my little joke, and he gives me a questioning look. "What?"
"Sorry, nothing," I answer, trying really hard to think of something other than the Major's machine gun locked and loaded. That does it, ripples of laughter take over.
He shakes his head but smiles and climbs over me. Planting his elbows just above my shoulders, he kisses me soundly.
"I"…kiss, kiss… "am gonna wipe"…kiss, kiss… "that smirk"…kiss, kiss, kisssss…. "right off your face!"
And he does. I hook my arms through his and pull his chest against me, enjoying the wave of muscle and the heft of him on top of me. I open for him and wrap my ankles high around his waist, flexing my hips until we find each other. He slides one hand to guide himself inside me, slowly, gradually, gently.
I squeeze my interior walls, drawing him in further, welcoming the sensation of being filled so completely. He moans softly into my ear, nipping at my neck and murmuring my name and how good I feel and a string of consonants without any vowels.
My hands trace down his back; beads of perspiration have turned into full on sweat. Soft moans have become loud insistent grunts. Gentle undulating is now full-on thrusting.
His ass is a solid whole divided into two perfect halves. I drink in his muscular build at every point of contact. His own hands and mouth seek out my erogenous zones, compelling me to join him as the coil tightens and the tension mounts. He moves with grace and passion, and true to his nature, he's considerate to a fault.
Not that I'd ever truly fault him for it.
The sounds of our loud wet joining together provide the steady thrum, while our erratic breathing and random exclamations add the melody line. "Come on, baby, here we go. Let's do this together."
Sliding a hand between us, he adds precise pressure exactly where I crave it, and on his next smooth thrust, I explode. Edward loses control after that, pushing into me erratically three more quick times before releasing a low, sexy growl.
I enjoy every unguarded moment as we both struggle to regain our equilibrium, releasing shallow breathy moans into each other's sweaty necks.
After, he pushes up in a basic training push-up and I take in the spectacular view from his crazy bushy eyebrows down to the shadows where we're still joined. The dog tags puddle on my stomach. "You are a fine specimen of man, Major Cullen."
"Well, to be fair, you ARE catching me on one of my better days."
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
"How was the picnic?" Dad asks as I set down the groceries on the counter.
"It was great, but Alice is starting to like other boys."
"That's okay, you like other girls," Emmett answers. "Speaking of whom…"
After spending the rest of Sunday in bed with Bella and texting her all night last night, I'm hardly worried about Emmett taking my place. But there's just something primal about sibling rivalry that I can't quite deny.
"Yes?" I ask, setting myself up for his barbs.
"She's great. Really knows her shit with Dad, and she…is… hot."
"Dad, please tell me he wasn't inappropriate."
Dad waves his hand dismissively. "He was fine. Besides, he was looking elsewhere."
"Like where?"
Then it hits me. Rosalie. The one who's good with kids. She'd be perfect for Emmett.
"Bella's partner is sex in a lab coat, dude. Have you not met Rosie?"
"I have not."
"Well, you will…soon."
"Huh?"
Dad pipes up proudly. "I did it, Edward. I hit 90% today. I insisted that Bella evaluate me again, because I just had a feeling, and…I did it."
Dad's proud smile is almost what it used to be. It's at least 90%. I give him a huge hug, careful as ever with his right side, and slap him on the back. "That's so great, Dad. I'm really happy for you."
"So…" Emmett chimes in, "We're all celebrating. The six of us! Next Friday night."
"That sounds…well actually, kind of weird, but interesting. I'm game. So what are we doing?
"Um…" Dad hedges.
"You're cooking!" Emmett blurts.
~SEXY SPEECH GIRL~
"Can I help?" Okay, I admit it. I don't want to help with the cooking. I just want to press my front against Edward's back while he stirs the risotto.
He twists his head away from the pot to give me a soft kiss on the lips. "You are helping. You're keeping the chef happy."
"God, you smell good," I say, settling my nose into the crook of his neck.
He sighs heavily. "Okay, maybe you're not helping so much. You know I can't leave this pot."
I slide my hand around to his stomach. "Not even for a minute or two? You think the others would mind if the rice gets a little scorched?"
He looks over my shoulder at the scene playing out in the living room. Carlisle has Esme completely charmed with his collection of Faberge eggs and Rosalie is practically sitting on Emmett's lap on the love seat, the two so intertwined it's hard to tell where one body stops and the other starts.
Edward nods approvingly, a wide happy smile extending into his eyes. "This is how it used to be. When Mom was alive." He goes back to stirring.
Damn him for choosing a meal that requires so much care. But then, why would Major Cullen have it any other way?
I coax him to give me a tour after the risotto is safely shepherded to its serving bowl. "This is the dining room," he says awkwardly, standing near the freshly set table.
"Yes, I can see that," I chuckle. "How about showing me a room you actually spent some time in growing up?"
He takes my hand and leads me to a small den with a well-worn sectional. Video game controllers, consoles, headsets, and a wild tangle of wires decorate the cushions. On the opposite wall is a large screen TV. I can practically see young Edward and Emmett battling it out here.
"So, yeah. This is basically where I lived."
"How about your bedroom?" I suggest.
He chuckles warmly. "Oh. You want to see the time capsule?"
"Damn straight."
He shakes his head. "Okay, but consider yourself forewarned." Pulling me down the hall further, he slows to a reluctant shuffle in front of the USMC pennant. "Last chance…"
"You saw my room."
Edward laughs and corrects me. "First of all, the only thing I saw is naked girl. Secondly, that's your grown-up room. This is…a little boy's bedroom. I hadn't slept here in almost ten years before Dad's stroke."
"I want to know you, Edward. Let me in."
He resigns himself to my kiss and my request, pushing open the door and standing back, observing me while I poke around the artifacts. Trophies and books share equal shelf space, and I navigate my way through titles and prizes with great interest. Not surprisingly, his tastes run the gamut from Calvin & Hobbes to J. R. R. Tolkien, John Le Carre, and Charles Dickens. One shelf consists of The Art of War, bookended between biographies of presidents and war generals and manuals of military strategy. Isn't that what all teenage boys like to read in their spare time?
Track, soccer, and chess trophies tell the story of a capable kid who worked hard and succeeded, both individually and as a team player.
But the pictures of younger Edward stop my heart dead in its tracks. If I've always thought of Edward as a carbon copy of his father, it's only because I'd never seen a picture of his mother before. I pick up a meticulously framed 5 x 7 of the four of them, one of those perfect Christmas card poses. Edward and Emmett look to be around 4 and 2, putting Carlisle right around Edward's current age. My eyes are drawn to the beautiful young mother with russet hair and a fantastic smile that I already love. My heart catches in my throat. Bellamoosh.
I didn't hear Edward close in behind me, and when he loops his arm around my stomach, I jump about two feet straight up in the air.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "Force of habit…stealth…sorry."
"God, Edward, you have her exact smile."
"I know," he says wistfully, tracing a finger along the outline of her face. "I used to have her hair as well."
His attention turns to a series of more recent photos, and I travel through the years watching Edward grow from a beautiful toddler into an awkward, lanky adolescent with long disportionate limbs and crazy unmanageable hair. The corkboard over his desk is cluttered with pictures of a teenage boy in various combinations of friends and settings. But one thing remains constant—the emergence of the ruggedly handsome face that captivated me the very first time I met him in the waiting room. And the hair.
Holy Hell, the gorgeous brassy mop that once graced this boy's head. Not that Regulation Crewcut Major Cullen isn't still the finest piece of man I've known, but Hairful Edward—Hairward, if that could be a word—exudes a raw sexual energy that could be the military's most powerful weapon if properly harnessed.
"Do you ever miss it?" I ask him.
He skims his hand along the top of his head as I've seen him do so many times before, like a soldier who still senses the presence of a missing limb long after it's gone.
"No. I could never get it to do what I wanted."
[MAJOR HOTTIE]
Esme smiles warmly at Dad as he tucks her into place across from where he'll reside at the head of the oblong table. At one percent or one hundred, that's our father's joy. If he lives to draw a breath, it's a chivalrous one. Ever the gentleman.
And ever the role model as well. Emmett follows suit, making sure to pull Rosalie's chair right up against his own as he pushes her toward the table. Rosalie giggles delightedly at his eagerness. If the two of them have noticed they're not alone in the room, neither has let on.
Sliding Bella's chair in next to mine feels as natural as if I'd been doing it for years, rather than days. I fill all six wine glasses and pull the warm rolls from the oven before taking my own seat.
"Butter please," Emmett says predictably reaching across the table for the bread basket.
"Easy there, Conan," replies Dad, stilling Emmett's arm with his own. "I'd like to offer a prayer."
Emmett draws back his hand and catches my eye. Granted, we both moved out of here after college, but before that, there were three solid years where we were both in high school and many college visits home where we three boys-slash-men ate together. And there hasn't been a prayer offered at this table since Mom uttered the last one in 1997.
The girls drop their faces to the table and stretch their arms above, Bella and Rosalie clasping hands with Dad.
"Boys?" Dad prompts impatiently, gazing back and forth between Emmett and me as if we don't have every reason to be sitting here with our jaws in our plates.
I take Bella's right hand into my left and connect with Esme on the other side. Rosalie nudges Emmett out of his trance and he takes her hand and Esme's, completing our prayer circle. I prepare myself for Mom's familiar mantra—God is great, God is good…
"Dear Lord," Dad starts, and I must've clamped down on Bella's hand because she rubs her thumb soothingly across my knuckles. I hold my breath and wait while Dad continues.
"We offer our gratitude for the meal which we are about to share, for the miracle of good health and skilled doctors and speech pathologists…"
A smile tugs up the corners of my mouth and I give Bella's hand an extra squeeze.
"… and for the love of family and new friends. Amen."
"Amen," I manage, though still a bit off kilter.
"Would anyone like to add anything?" Dad's looking straight at me.
And then everyone else joins in with the looking and expecting. Find something to say, Cullen.
"Bless these three wonderful women who grace our table tonight for the fine work they do in their practice and for bringing Dad back to us."
Emmett can't resist adding his own two cents. "And God bless Bella for picking such a hot ticket to be her partner and for loosening up Major Pain in My Ass over there."
With that, the entire group dissolves into a fit of giggles and shaking heads. Unabashed, Emmett adds, "Now, could I PLEASE have the butter?"
-the end-
A/N: Hope you enjoyed my little rendition of Majorward, Miss SSG/Birthday-Girl/Yummalicious! I had to come up with a creative way of sending the Major to the SLP without giving him a stutter! Please forgive any and all inaccuracies with regard to the military and your chosen profession. Google can only take a person so far, and I didn't have time to get a Master's Degree or enlist in the Marines!
Love to Kitkat for pre-reading and encouraging me to write an actual ending! Oh, and I originally wrote the Major with a full crop of beautiful hair, but KK made me shave it all off! *grumbles something about authenticity*
Love you, Yummy. Here's hoping you, your very own Major, and those three beautiful kiddies have a wonderful, memorable, sweet birthday celebration! ;) XXX ~BOH