A/N: Fanfiction is about fun & escape from RL. Let's get back to that, shall we?
Ch. 7
It is eleven thirty-five on Tuesday morning. Isabella Swan's jet is fueling on a tarmac. She has been summoned to Washington to discuss the state of the nation's finances. As the CEO of SAF Global, she will be called upon to rescue AmeriCap Holdings from the brink of bankruptcy. She will offer insight, elicit interest, and allow Volturi to step in and take ownership of the floundering firm in her stead. She will not leave Washington with her company weighed down by worthless debt, but she will leave the government with a list of six carefully crafted steps that must be taken to shore up the nation's financial system and create liquidity in the marketplace. These demands will also solidify SAF's global dominance.
Aro Volturi will not be in attendance at the upcoming meeting and this fact has Bella in a fit of consternation. There are rumors that Aro is convalescing in Argentina, but Bella doesn't believe this for a heartbeat. Captains of industry and financial titans like Aro Volturi do not convalesce in times of crisis. They grow in wealth and power and as a result they live far beyond the limit of their own mortal life spans. Carnegie didn't convalesce. Rockefeller didn't run away from industry at the height of the revolution. J.P. Morgan stepped into the power vacuum during the gold panic; he didn't escape south of the border. Either Bella's plan to topple Volturi will be a one-sided and uneventful endeavor, or Aro Volturi has a plan she cannot decipher.
Meanwhile, Jared Cameron has been unable to produce a single substantiated lead about Aro Volturi's Argentinean intentions, thus falling short as her right hand man. Bella does not reward mediocrity, and as a result Jared will not be accompanying her as she advises the leader of the free world. Embry Call has eagerly filled Jared's shoes and waits outside her office alongside her assistant, Laurent.
Bella waits inside.
The nation's latest banking emergency has forced her to cancel several executive meetings, an important strategy session, a workout with her trainer and a fitting with her personal shopper. She's moved her four p.m. to eleven to accommodate her flight, yet she sits in her office alone over half an hour later. The President of the United States and the heads of the five largest financial institutions in the nation all unsuspectingly wait for an unemployed information technology specialist to drop his pants.
Strictly speaking, this fact should anger Bella Swan. She is not pleased with Edward Cullen, and she wants nothing more than for him to please her. Yet she enjoys keeping people waiting, and as her anticipation grows with her annoyance she cannot help but look forward to the forthcoming exchange.
She wore stockings with elasticized bands because he could not manage garters. She's taken off her suit jacket and is aware that her cream silk blouse gives a subtle impression of the white lace underneath, especially as the noonday light streams through the windows. In fact, she's made a point of tying back the dark velvet drapes to allow as much light into the room as possible. She's thought ahead and doesn't want the shadow of Edward Cullen's brow to get in the way of seeing his emotions. The last time she'd had him in the office she'd come so close to the anger, pain and desire that was emanating from his eyes that she wants better access to the spectacle this time around.
Bella attempts to focus on the spreadsheet, balance sheet and income statement flickering on the monitor in front of her, instead of on Edward Cullen's eyes. She has all but decided on a hostile acquisition of a small financial services firm out of Chicago. While she makes nice with the feds, Quill and Paul will be in charge of quietly acquiring a controlling interest in OmniVest.
"Ms. Swan?" Laurent asks over her intercom. Bella's attention immediately shifts and she closes her laptop. Laurent has been instructed to interrupt her for only one reason.
Bella leans back in her seat with eyes steadily trained on the door that she's recently been fucked against. "Send him in," she commands.
Bella's skin sizzles and her lungs try desperately to draw excess oxygen into her bloodstream, priming her body for the interaction she craves. When the door opens, Edward Cullen enters the office unaccompanied and Bella can't help but grin. His hair is held stylishly in place, his well-worn Oxford is crisply starched, his trousers have been pressed and his shoes even shine. He's an observant man. After only two meetings he's deduced what she prefers.
"Laurent?" Bella asks the intercom.
"Yes, Ms. Swan."
"Bring Mr. Cullen his suit jacket, please?"
Laurent immediately appears in the doorway and hands Edward his jacket. "Yes, Ms. Swan," he says with a nod before shutting the door, leaving Edward and Bella alone together in the office.
Edward clasps the jacket by the collar, letting it hang by his side in his tight fist. He makes no move to don the garment in a demonstration of defiance. In fact, Bella is unexpectedly impressed by the look of stoic determination on Edward Cullen's clean-shaven face. She'd expected repentance. She'd expected fear. She hadn't expected an emotion bordering on opposition.
"You're late."
"Our meeting was at noon," Edward argues. He tosses the jacket onto a nearby chair.
"I moved the meeting to eleven, Mr. Cullen. And I'd like you to wear the jacket."
"I couldn't make it here by eleven, and I'm not putting the jacket on after you made me take it off." Edward is disgusted by the fact that he's been reduced to a toddler throwing a tantrum, yet resents what appears to be an oft-practiced ritual: a thorough pat down followed by the confiscation of his personal belongings and his suit jacket. He resents the fact that he is at Bella Swan's home office at all this morning, and also, ironically, resents that there is a part of himself that is pleased the meeting was pushed up.
"Those are my terms. I said you were to be available when and where I ask you to be, Mr. Cullen."
"Our meeting was for this afternoon and I have a wife."
"This isn't about your wife."
Edward walks swiftly across the office, leans on Bella's desk and lowers his eyes to hers. "Yes. It. Is."
Bella grins and leans back in her chair. "Please go on."
Edward stands, disarmed by Bella's cool demeanor in the face of his very visceral consternation. "You said at the bar that there were things you could get her."
"Say her name," Bella quietly taunts.
Edward winces. "Angela. There are things you could do for Angela that I couldn't. I want those things."
"Tell me what you want, then."
Edward swallows. His eyes burn. "I want to really help her. I've given up on being able to do anything else, but I'd like to do that."
"Tell me what you want," Bella slowly repeats, leaning forward, elbows on the desk. She and Edward are both aware that this affords him the opportunity to enjoy her cleavage.
Edward's eyes cannot help but dip, but then he forces his attention back on Bella's face, on her big brown eyes that manage to feel warm and cold all at once, at her shiny plump lips that brushed against his less than a week ago in this very room. "I want to make her better. I need more than insurance. I need the best care. I need something that might work."
Bella sees his eyes dart once more after he's finished his speech. She pushes her chair from the desk, leans back and lounges. She and Edward are both hyper-aware of her body. Bella enjoys the friction of her skirt against the hem of her stockings. The silk of her blouse raises goose bumps on her arms. Edward enjoys the shadow between Bella's breasts and the point at which white silk fades to darkness where her skirt meets her inner thighs.
Edward doesn't realize that he is biting his upper lip. Bella does.
"Tell me what you want," she purrs.
"I want you by the window." Edward's voice is deep and gruff; his statement matter-of-fact.
Bella raises an eyebrow and slowly rises from her chair, but Edward stands his ground. The intensity of his fixed stare raises the temperature between them to the point that Bella is uncomfortably warm and must fight for breath.
"What do you want?" she asks, forcing herself to remember the rules. He must come to her.
"I want…" Edward attempts uncertainly. "I want…"
"I don't have all day, Mr. Cullen. You were late. You, oddly enough, have demands about your wife. You're forgetting the one rule. There is one object in this game. You want?"
"I, um, turn around."
Bella turns toward the windows with a sigh. She sees choking air and a filmy brown expanse of atmosphere separating her building from the rest of the cityscape. Sadly, aside from his appearance, Edward Cullen does not appear to remember that he is here to guess her wishes. If he doesn't follow the rules then her playtime will be over before it has even commenced. Edward will lose his world and his wife and Bella will be left to find other distractions. She flattens her palms against the pane and wonders whether she should give him the prompt once more.
Before she's decided to speak, though, she finally hears footsteps and presently, the warmth of Edward's presence behind her. Long arms wrap around her body and fumble with the small buttons of her blouse. Bella is repulsed and begins to untangle her limbs from his.
"What do you think you're doing? What do I have to do to get through to you, Mr. Cullen? I thought you were brighter than this. Don't tell me you spent the last four days thinking about what you wanted to do to me." Bella wriggles and pushes and tries to pry herself loose, but Edward grabs her wrists, holding them against the glass and over her head. He brings his lips to her ear.
"I've spent the past four days trying to get out of this. I've spent the past four days trying to make up for… everything I've done."
"Fumbling with my blouse in front of a window won't get you there, Mr. Cullen. Give me something I want or your heroic dreams of rescuing your helpless Angela will go up in smoke."
Edward releases one of Bella's wrists and grabs a fistful of her hair. "You don't get to say her name."
"Does Angela like it by the window?"
Edward tugs, pulling Bella's head back. "I need a guarantee. I need this."
"There's nothing money can't buy, Mr. Cullen. Now give me what I want."
Edward releases Bella's hair and, using a knot he learned in Boy Scouts, ties one of Bella's wrists to the cord of the velvet drapes. He quickly repeats with the other wrist and Bella's arms are held aloft and spread. Edward watches her pull at the bindings and he is pleased.
He wraps his arms around Bella once more, but this time doesn't trouble himself with buttons. This time he pulls violently at the silk of her blouse. In his mind those tiny buttons should pop off and her shirt would fly open, but in the real world this is a strangely difficult task, resulting in bits of torn silk, frayed string, and an open blouse, nonetheless.
"Is this what you wanted?" he hisses, his lips against her earlobe. "I wanted to see you in the afternoon light. I wanted to hold your body like this…"
Edward runs his hands over Bella's hips, holding her tentatively, stretching his fingers so that they are splayed around her curves. He is once again granted the miraculous sense of touch – and he feels the hard contours of her hips and the taut, toned skin that stretches over them. He is electrified.
"You don't want kindness, though. Right? You don't want to get close to anyone."
(Edward is wrong on two counts: one of the things Bella likes best about Edward is his kindness and she wishes she were facing Edward and close enough that she could see his eyes.)
Angered anew that he isn't supposed to fuck Bella Swan the way he'd like to, Edward finds the zipper to Bella's skirt and pulls hard enough that he tears the fabric at the bottom of the seam. He forces her skirt down and pulls at white lace panties until both skirt and undergarment rest in a puddle around Bella's ankles.
Stepping back, Edward struggles to catch his breath as he surveys the scene at his fingertips. Isabella Swan's silhouette is framed in sunshine. Her bare ass is small, round, and in Edward's estimation, quite perfect, and her legs are long and thin. White lace edges wrap around her thighs and midday sunlight streams through the gap between. He wishes she were naked and would like to get her blouse and bra out of the way, but his hasty decision to tie her wrists makes that desire useless.
Bella glances over her shoulder making eye contact with Edward. "Is this what you wanted, Mr. Cullen?" she rasps. She steps out of her skirt and panties, spreads her legs and arches her back. "What about me?" She turns toward the window once more, and her body vibrates with anticipation and power, spread bare, wide and wet above the city of Los Angeles.
Bella hears the clank of his belt buckle, the zip of his fly and the quiet rustle of a condom packet and she is certain wetness is poised to slip down her thighs. Edward fists her hair and yanks her head, wraps an arm around her bare waist and forces his way inside in one punishing thrust that lifts Bella's heels off the ground and forces the air out of her lungs. He holds and tugs and pounds, pushing Bella's breasts and forehead against the windowpane, forcing her to try to hold herself in place with palms against the slippery and sweaty glass. Edward wraps another arm around and slips his hand up to find a lace-covered breast. Instead of a caress, he finds the hard knot of a nipple and pinches and pulls, finally eliciting an audible gasp and garbled utterance from Bella's lips.
Driven by Bella's vocal pleasure, he presses her body flush with the pane, his lips tangled with her hair, his chest against her back, her ass flush with his pelvis, her body nearly lifted with the relentless force and rhythm of his fucking. Her soft, short moans are offered to the glass that her cheek is pressed against, higher in pitch with each thrust, coming gradually to a quiet crescendo. Edward can no longer hold back, and finally he lets himself go, holding Bella's hips and picking her slightly off the ground so that he can finish while he's buried as deeply as physically possible inside of her.
After a few shuddering breaths on both of their parts, Edward sets Bella back down. This time she is the one that slumps and holds herself up. She is relieved. He's guessed the game and he's a suitable lay. Possibilities open up before her. She has a good life.
Edward slips his dick from the tight warmth of Bella's sex. He pulls the condom from his half-hard dick and lets it drop into the nearby waste bin. Taking her hips into his hands for a second time, he turns guides Bella around to face him. Her wrists twist overhead, pulling the velvet drapes closed behind her as if to signal the end of an act. He admires how the deep blood red velvet of the curtains offsets her creamy skin and deep red nipples. Edward watches the rise and fall of her lace-covered breasts, and emboldened by her bondage, he pushes the undergarment upward, baring her breasts. He falls into Bella's chair and watches the woman strung before him. Her sex glistens. Her ribs belie deep breathing. Her lips are parted. He'd like them around his dick.
Then he remembers Bella's demand. This is not about his desire, he is tasked with deducing what she would like.
Edward stands so that he's positioned directly in front of Bella. Her eyes meet his, daring him to act. He thinks perhaps she is hoping he will surprise her.
"You're really pretty. I just wanted to touch you."
Bella is struck by the soft, kind edge in Edward's voice. It's the voice he used with the waitress the first time they'd met in the bar. It's a voice filled with earnest good intention. Edward brings his hand to the tip of Bella's breast but does not make contact. He lets his palm drift lower until it hovers near her sex, virtually cupping. They trade breath. He takes a step backward. "Your move, Ms. Swan."
Edward falls into Bella's desk chair once more. His biceps are throbbing and his legs are weak. He thinks he may need to take up exercise on a more regular basis if he's planning on pursuing this arrangement. Incidentally, he is planning on pursuing this arrangement. This is what Edward Cullen wants. He knows it physically and he has come to terms with it mentally. He wants the ease of anonymity and the dirt of an illicit relationship. He's convinced that he's been shit for a husband, and that the only thing he might hope for is saving Angela's life.
Lost in his thoughts and the post coital haze of his fantasy come to life, Edward is shocked when Bella begins to easily unwind her hands from the ties that bind her. She smirks and rubs her wrists. "You need to better learn the ropes, Mr. Cullen," she chuckles as she pulls her bra back over her breasts.
Bella unbuttons her cufflinks and shrugs off her shirt as she strides past Edward clad only in a bra, stockings and stilettos. Edward swivels to watch her take a seat on the corner of the desk and cross her long legs. "Not bad, Mr. Cullen," Bella hums. "Now what were we playing for today?"
With the reality of their reversed roles thrown in his face, Edward grits his teeth. Bella's eyes twinkle. "Yes, I see that we remember now." She leans across the desk and watches Edward as he attempts not to feast his eyes on Bella's cleavage.
"Laurent?" she asks as she presses the intercom.
"Ms Swan?"
"Get Doctor Banner on the phone for me."
"Yes, Ms. Swan."
"Also, I need a new blouse, and bring in the trousers to go with my jacket. The zipper on the skirt needs repair."
"Of course, Ms. Swan."
"Who's Doctor Banner?" Edward asks.
Bella leans back on her hands and recrosses her legs. "If I smoked I'd want a cigarette. Thank you, Mr. Cullen. I needed this before leaving for D.C."
"D.C?"
"I have Doctor Banner on line one, Ms. Swan," Laurent's voice informs them from the Intercom. Bella picks up a wireless handset instead of talking on speaker. She watches Edward as she talks, swinging the heel of her shoe.
"Doctor Banner?... Yes, yes… No, I'm calling on behalf of one of my associates… His wife is quite ill… No, nothing like that. Stage four triple negative breast cancer."
Edward is shocked to hear his wife's diagnosis roll off of Bella Swan's tongue.
"I want to find the best care possible… Yes, a clinical trial perhaps. Who do you suggest?"
There's a light knock on the door and Bella slips off the edge of the desk and strides toward the entryway.
"The Mayo Clinic? Isn't that… yes, Arizona… that's what I thought. Nothing in town?"
Edward watches as Bella opens the door for Laurent as if greeting her assistant in the nude were as commonplace and familiar as brushing her teeth.
"Yes, I did say the absolute best… You know her personally?... No, that's not an obstacle… Thank you, Doctor Banner. Sorry, Peter. How's Mary?"
Laurent hangs a garment bag on the coat hook and walks past Bella as she continues her conversation with Doctor Banner. Edward doesn't make eye contact with Bella's assistant but has the distinct impression he is being scrutinized as Laurent picks up the stray clothing littering the floor around him. Bella wanders back toward Edward and Laurent.
"Thank you, Peter. I'll have Mr. Black call later for the details? Her name? Of course. Angela Cullen."
Bella places the phone back in its cradle.
"I can still use the undergarments, Laurent," she mentions, sliding her bare bottom back onto the desk.
"Of course," Laurent mumbles, separating some white lace from the rest of the ruined clothing. Bella dangles her feet in front of her and Laurent goes down on one knee and slips the panties over her heels. Bella stops him at her knees.
"I can take it from here," she chuckles.
"Anything else?"
"Is Mr. Black here?"
"In the kitchen."
"Send him in."
Bella stands and shimmies and covers herself with what appears to be two ribbons of white lace connecting over her crotch. Laurent doesn't linger and Bella doesn't acknowledge his departure.
"There's a doctor at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale," she informs Edward. "Apparently she's the best breast cancer specialist on this side of the continent."
"Arizona?"
"You asked for the best. Now, if you'd like each visit paid for, you'll continue to play the game. Anticipate my needs."
"Arizona?" he asks again.
"Mr. Black will arrange everything. Just like this doctor, he is also the best at what he does."
"What exactly does he do?" Edward cannot help but ask.
"He makes sure I'm happy."
"Then he's shit at his job."
Bella is shocked into stillness by the undeniable truth of Edward's words. In the future she will choose her explanation of Jacob Black's job description with more care. He attends to her every need. He is devoted to her every whim. She says jump, he asks how high. He is the Gatsby to her Daisy.
"Bella?" Mr. Black asks from the open office doorway.
Bella reins herself in from asking Jacob Black to jump, but she cannot help but grin. "Jacob, we were just talking about you," she says, turning in the direction of her assistant.
Edward watches Mr. Black watching Bella Swan. He registers the pleasant shock on Mr. Black's face as he appreciates Bella's state of undress, followed quickly by displeasure when Mr. Black recalls Edward's presence.
"What is it?" Jacob Black asks, glancing back and forth between the unemployed man and his former boss. "Does he need to clean his dick again?"
"That's the least of it, Jacob. I need you to call Doctor Banner in the morning. He's arranging a consult for Mr. Cullen and his wife in Scottsdale. I need you to coordinate their transport and relay all pertinent numbers and contact information back to Mr. Cullen."
"Yeah, sure. Is that all?"
"I'd like Mr. Cullen in my box at the opera next week. See that he is properly attired."
Jacob Black smirks. He knows better than to take Bella's words at face value. "Anything else?"
"That's all for now, Jacob. I have a meeting to dress for. You're both excused."
Two sets of brown eyes turn expectantly toward Edward Cullen who is still collapsed in Bella's office chair. Edward remembers his fly, finds his strength and rights himself as he gets to his feet. Bella Swan retrieves Edward's suit jacket from the chair by the door and folds it neatly over her bare arm.
"Destitution suits you, Mr. Cullen. Nevertheless, the next time I request you wear your suit jacket I expect you to listen." Bella stands and holds out the jacket. Edward reluctantly makes his way to the door, sadly aware that this is his only way out. He lets Bella hold the jacket while he threads his arms through the sleeves. He feels the tips of Bella's tits rub intentionally against his back as she smoothes the material over his shoulders.
"Learn the ropes, Mr. Cullen," she whispers in his ear as she pats his ass and sends him on his way.
A/N: SereneInNC and Obsmama help makes this fun and worthwhile for me - thank you both! My trike keeps me sane - even as they move on from fanfic and become real, legit authors and all. I'm so proud of the new published bicycle, even as I totter over here looking like a circus freak on this unicycle.
My unsolicited advice for the week: find the fun... get lost in the story... don't do it for the reviews, or the allure of fanfic fame, lol. Take it from me. I've been around the block and back again. You never feel as good as when you write that once in a lifetime little fic, or when you discover something that's just SO DAMN GOOD that you can't put it down even to sleep. Have a happy week & let's try to turn over a new leaf. Stranger things have happened.
I've fallen behind in my writing... best laid plans & all, right? I'll try my bext for next Friday, but I've got a date with The Pointer Sisters, lol.
Until next time, ~BDC