THE SILVER LINING

A/N: I'm positively embarrassed with how long you've had to wait for this update. My life has had so many twists and turns this summer, it's ridiculous.

Thank you to my beta Lupin4Tonks. Your countrymen put on a bloody good show on Saturday night.

Things I own: A customized Forever BD2 shirt from Comic Con. Hey, I waited TWO HOURS in line to get that puppy. So worth it.

Things I don't: Anything Twilight. That's all Stephenie Meyer's.

CHAPTER 9

"Goddammit!" I yell at myself. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I know that you're hungry."

"Shh, shh, it's fine, Silverfox. Remember, it's your stomach that was growling."

"I just wanted all of this to be perfect, and here I drop the best part on the floor. I wanted to do my best for you."

"I'm going to tell you a secret—that's not the best part. I don't really care that you dropped it. Not at all. Just dust them off."

I look at her, alarmed. Eat off the floor? You can't do stuff like that. "But—the germs…" I start to retort, stopped midsentence by the fact that she's laughing at me.

"I promise you that I honestly don't care; I know it will be just fine. Come on, now. Pick them up and bring them over here."

I'm dubious, but do as she asks. "I don't know about this."

"Well I do. I've raised two children who grew into adulthood and occasionally they ate food from off the floor. It's all good."

"It isn't perfect."

"Again, with the perfect! Nothing is ever perfect. This has all been wonderful for me, so stop fretting. I mean, I've never had sex for three days straight before—that in and of itself is impressive. Human bodies are involved in what we're doing, which means that moments of complete imperfection will break through. It can't be helped."

I feel her at my side. Apparently my pouting face worked.

"Hey, you—stop," she nudges. "Don't you know by now that I'm a sure thing? You don't need to impress me. I'm not going anywhere. When you love someone unconditionally, it means that you accept them as they are, warts and all. And, just so you know, you have no warts that I've been able to find. Quit with the fretting already, Silverfox."

"How is it that you always make everything better, Bella? I feel like you wave a magic wand over me and instantly calm me down."

"Ohhh, you're the one with the magic wand, baby, trust me. All I do is give you permission to be yourself. To be human and flawed, just like the rest of us."

"Thank you for your unwavering support. You've made me whole in a way I've never been before."

She leans in, quiet, barely touching her lips to mine. It's the mere whisper of a kiss, but it's enough to jumpstart a fire. The food stays where it is and the trays are promptly forgotten as I quickly haul her over to my bed. Our bed. Before I even know what's transpired, I find myself sprawled out with Bella hovering over me sporting a naughty grin on her face.

Hang on a minute; I thought I was the aggressor here.

She straddles me and leans to whisper in my ear, "You're in trouble."

"Wait—I am? What exactly did I do?"

"You doubted yourself, and we just can't have that kind of behavior in this house. You're as perfect a specimen as there is. What are the other lesser males to do if you keep telling them that you're flawed? You'll be the downfall of all men for the rest of history."

"Hey, I'm not judging anyone but myself. Leave my footprint on history out of this."

"Doesn't matter, you're still in trouble."

"Well, damn. What's my punishment?"

"I'm going to tie you up and have my wicked way with you. Bucket list style."

Oh, sweet jesus.

"Um, that seems like a fair punishment. I really have been a very bad boy."

"I know. Don't worry, I'll be sure that your punishment is so severe that you'll be certain to repeat your error frequently."

A wanton moan escapes from my mouth. This woman is going to be the death of me yet, and if that's the case, I'll die most willingly. Multiple times.

Bella lifts one finger to signal that she needs a moment. I'm left spread-eagled across the bed while I watch her naked form walk out of the bedroom.

I marvel at her natural beauty, but I know that it's who she is within that appeals to me more than anything. I'm still amazed at how she happened to fall into my life. It makes me feel slightly panicked to know that had I not decided to learn how to do laundry that fateful day, we never would have met. Imagine if I had met her sooner—we would have had so much more time together. If I'm honest, however, I know that I might not have been accepting of her more artistic ways when I was younger; I would have missed having this exquisite creature in my life forever had that been the case. I resolve to simply appreciate the fact that we did find each other, and that's what makes all the difference.

Left alone with my thoughts, I ponder our current status. If I ran into an old friend, how would I introduce her to them? Is she my girlfriend? Am I officially her boyfriend? Those labels feel so trite, like I'm back in high school. I love her so deeply and know her so intimately, it almost feels like I'm belittling what we have to use such conventional terms. Really, the only way to describe us is husband and wife. I want that with her more than I've wanted anything else in my life, even more than I wanted to be a surgeon. It feels absolutely real and necessary. It dawns on me that I feel almost desperate to have that relationship with her. I start to wonder about what kind of ring Bella might like. Being an artist, I'm not sure I would know what she'd appreciate. How would I ever propose to someone like her? I can't imagine she'd be one for a grand gesture, but I'd have to make it special enough that she would be able to see how much I utterly adore her.

I could take her to Hawaii—we could go scuba diving, have sex in the ocean, cross off so many things on our bucket list. My brain seizes upon a Hawaiian vacation with her. Or maybe Tahiti would be better? It's remote, foreign, exotic, and I'm almost certain she's never been there before. They speak French, so it would be romantic in nearly every way. I make a mental note to take care of these arrangements when our sex-a-thon is over. It looks like I'll have a lot of future plans to make.

An annoying buzzing sound interrupts my thoughts. What the hell?

I sit up in bed, trying to locate the noise. I hear it buzz more loudly, followed by a loud clunk onto the floor. I peer over the bed only to discover my damn iPhone.

God, I hate that thing.

"Look at your phone," I hear Bella say in a stage whisper.

"Bella? Where are you? Wha—?"

"The phone, Silverfox, the phone," is all she says.

With what is most likely a very sour look on my face, I retrieve the offending object. I click it on and see a blue box in the middle of the screen. At the top of the box, I see Bella's name. Underneath I read:

I'm in the hallway and I can hardly wait to get upstairs and punish you. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Below her comments are two rectangles—one says cancel and the other says reply. I have no fucking clue what I'm supposed to do here. Ten percent of my brain—the unconfused part—is doing a huge fistpump of joy. The other 90% sits there confused and drooling.

Again, she whispers loudly to me, while the stairs squeak with her every step.

"Answer it. Press the reply button."

The memory of the Great Sexting Debacle of '12 is fresh in my mind. I only got my apology to Alice done today for crying out loud. While I may love my Bella to distraction, there's no way I'm getting into this again.

"Noo. Unh-uh. No way."

"It's bucket list, baby. You gotta learn how to do this."

"Nope. I'll just send it to the wrong person again."

"It's from me. When you press reply, it goes straight back to me."

"I'm going to be firm about this. I can't do it, I just can't," I implore.

"I know you can. I know that one day, you're going to be a sexting demon."

"Not Edward Cullen."

"Yes, Edward Cullen."

"No."

"Yes!"

"Belllla, no!" I plead.

She huffs and stamps her way into the room. I notice that her breasts jiggle in really delightful ways when she does that; I'll have to annoy her more often. My attention is redirected when I see her set a small bag on the floor; my interest is immediately piqued.

"Eyes on me, not the bag."

"But—" I protest.

Boobs, my brain thinks.

She crosses her arms and gives me a very stern look. When she sees that my focus is back on her, she plops on the bed next to me. Patiently, she shows me how the text works, laying both phones in front of us. She types something on my phone. I watch as the message from my phone shows up on hers. She does the same process to her phone, and sends one back to mine.

"Now, do you see?"

"Yes, I definitely saw how it worked when I accidentally sexted Alice."

She gives me another impatient look.

"Okay, okay, I'll try."

I'm rewarded with a beaming smile. Her breasts look pretty amazing, too, come to think of it. I can't believe I have such a one-track mind when it comes to Bella's physique. This clothing optional idea is mightily distracting.

She sees me ogling her boobs and waves her hand in front of my face. "Edward?"

I grab my phone with an exaggerated sigh and bring it up close to my face, so she can't see what I'm typing. I push the reply button and type in I think you're very pretty.

Bella's phone dings like a bell. She snatches it up excitedly.

"Pretty!" she exclaims. "That is so not a sext."

"Hey, I'm just being careful until I get the hang of it."

She huffs loudly then sends one back to me. When my phone buzzes, I glance at the screen then promptly drop it as if it's a hot potato.

I'm going to tie you up and make you suffer long and hard—and I do mean hard, Silverfox—for what a naughty boy you've been.

My heart is pounding I'm so turned on. I've never had someone tie me up before, and the excitement goes straight from my brain to my cock. Bella scoots so she's sitting right in front of me and takes me into her hand.

"God, I love your penis," she sighs.

"God, I love your hand."

She starts kissing me, hard. I can tell she's really into this, and I desperately want to make this good for her. I want her to enjoy our adventures, mild or exotic. I want her to enjoy me.

Suddenly, she pushes on my chest so that I'm lying on the bed. On her hands and knees, she looks closely into my face. "Have you ever been tied up, Edward?"

I swallow hard. "N-no."

"Are you okay with me tying you up?"

"Oh, yes," I moan.

"I'll do it loose, but if you need to be untied or anything else, I want you to say the word red. That will tell me to stop."

"Okay."

My erection hardens even more as I close my eyes, feeling her move over my wrists and ankles. I can't even imagine how exciting this is going to be. I keep thinking back to the message she sent me, and it makes me so excited, far more than I expected to be. This is really uncharted territory for me, but I feel safe because I'm doing it with Bella.

"Can I blindfold you?" she asks softly.

"Uh, sure."

"You've never been blindfolded before, have you?"

"No."

"Tied up?"

"Again, no."

"But you're sure this is okay?"

"Yes, Bella. I want to do this with you."

"Just checking. I mean, this is supposed to be fun."

Before she blindfolds me, though, I watch her lube her pussy, wishing my hand was there instead of hers. It gleams in the light without all its hair to cover it up.

"That's so erotic," I choke out.

She sits on top of my erection, sliding her slick lips over my length. My hips buck, trying to increase our friction. She smiles at my eagerness.

"Blindfold time."

When she slips the satin over my eyes, I feel my first sense of unease. My heart starts pounding.

What the hell is going on?

I start breathing deeply, slowly in and out, to calm myself. I have no idea what's going on here; I've never reacted like this before. I almost feel panicked. For some reason, I can't get past the fact that I can't move and I can't see. All I can think of is that I need to be free. I need to be able to move. All my energy is focused on escape, and my cock becomes a limp noodle.

"Edward?" Bella asks. She must see something in my expression that looks off. "Are you all right?"

"No!" I practically yell at her.

"What is it?" she says, tearing the blindfold off.

"Ropes! Off!"

"Okay," her voice is strained, and I see her hands shaking terribly as she fumbles with the Velcro straps. "God, I'm so sorry."

"Hurry!" I feel my entire body shaking with fear and panic.

Once she has me freed, I curl into a ball, just trying to slow my panicked breathing down.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Bella soothes me as I get myself back under control.

Slowly and gradually, my body calms once again. Instead of clinging to Bella, my lifeline, I turn onto my stomach, mortified. I want to hide from her. I've never behaved like this in my life, and I'm worried she'll think I'm a mess. Who can't stand to be tied up? I mean, what the hell was that all about? I know exactly what happened—I'd developed a phobia and had a classic panic response to the fear—but I've never had a phobia in my life. Why now? Especially when Bella was so excited to experience this with me. It's on our fucking bucket list!

I feel like such a miserable failure. Limp dick and all.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

I can't even look her in the face, I'm so humiliated.

She nudges me again. "Edward, what?"

I just shake my head. I'm acting like I'm 12, but I can't help it. I'm beyond ashamed.

"Are you upset that you panicked?"

I can't even look at her. I just shrug my shoulders. She turns my body over, but I keep my eyes clamped shut.

She makes soothing noises while she slowly works her hands over my abdomen, my thighs, my cock. Unlike usual, my body makes no response to her loving touches.

What is it about men that when we're young, we're far too eager and finish too fast, and when we're old, our bodies won't do what our brain wants them to? I feel sick. I hate this. I want to bury my face in my pillow, which is just as good as burying it in the sand. I want it all to go away.

"I'm so sorry I pushed you too far, Edward. I wish you would have told me that you have a phobia of being tied up."

"I had no fucking idea that I did!" I snap at her, instantly sorry for treating her like that.

She removes her hands from my skin as though she received an electric shock. I turn my body back onto my stomach in an attempt to hide from her.

I turn my head to the side so I can eke out a few words. "I failed you. I'm sorry."

She surprises me by turning my body from stomach to back quite suddenly—Bella can be pretty feisty when she puts her mind to it. It must be all that yoga she does. She sits in front of me with her legs and arms crossed, looking really pissed. I pull the pillow over my face in an attempt to keep hiding from her, but naturally she has to remove it instantly, throwing it to the ground. She then takes each remaining pillow, repeating the process.

"You're a grown man, so please look at me and discuss this. You had a phobic reaction to being tied up, but there's nothing wrong with that; it's not like you can help it. I don't understand why you're so upset. It happens. I don't care. I just feel horrible that I caused you to feel this way."

"It's not just that," I explain meekly, and move to cover my flaccid junk.

I feel my face flush as her eyes follow the movements of my hands. Her mouth opens wide in amazement, and I watch as her eyes trace the path between my eyes and my junk.

She breaks the silence with a loud scoffing noise. "Are you sulking just because you lost your erection? Seriously? Are you kidding me?" Her tone is indignant, but I don't understand why.

All I can do in response is nod my head. What the hell else would it be? I mean, how is this supposed to make me feel virile and attractive? How can she not understand that?

She pokes her finger into my chest, jabbing it in synchrony with her words. "You are beyond ridiculous, Edward Cullen, and I won't stand for this. I won't let you wallow over something as insignificant as losing an erection, or being afraid of being tied up."

"Can we just not do this?" I plead.

"Nope, I'm afraid you're stuck. If you are going to continue sharing a bed with me, this gets dealt with right fucking now."

I feel like I need to vomit. "How can I possibly move forward when I've disappointed you so badly?"

"You're under a complete misconception that this is somehow important to me, and you couldn't be more wrong."

"How is that even possible?" I croak out.

"You seem to think that your dick is supposed to be a supercock, but Edward, you're 65 years old. Things don't work the way they used to. Let's look at this from a different perspective. When I'm turned on by you—which is 100% of the time, 24/7, by the way—I'm supposed to get so wet that my pussy is literally dripping. I mean, that's that's the best way to know a woman is really turned on, right? We aren't even going to mention the fake orgasm screams you hear in porn, because they clearly aren't a valid indicator of sexual arousal. So, if I am dripping wet all the time, why is it that I make you use lube every time you go near my lady bits?"

"Because you're menopausal and you don't make enough estrogen naturally. You literally can't get very wet on your own anymore."

"Exactly!" she exclaims with a grin. "I can't do it on my own. I have to put a vaginal moisturizer in every three days to keep things moist down there, and then I also use lube when we're having sex. It's a physical thing, a natural part of aging. It's simply a fact of life for women who have gone through menopause."

"I still don't see how this relates to me."

"Ugh, you're going to kill me with this, Silverfox! It's the same thing for you as it is for me! I can't get very wet on my own anymore, and likewise, you're going to lose some erections now and then. They wax and wane. You can't help it; it's completely beyond your control. Why would I ever be disappointed or upset by something you can't do anything about?"

"Oh, I never thought of it that way."

"The kid finally gets it."

"But we can't have sex if I can't get hard."

She shakes her head as if I'm a child who can't understand the principles of addition. "Mr. Silverfox, as you've told me before, you're a surgeon. You understand how the human body works. Sex is about so much more than peen in vagina. Some of the most erotic sensations come from what leads up to that part. If you focus only on finishing, it's like closing your eyes during the ride. You miss the good stuff."

I start to relax a little bit as I process what Bella is telling me. She's right, of course. She's completely right.

"Let me show you," she says.

She starts with a simple kiss. Cupping the back of my neck with one hand, she lifts it a few inches off the bed. I feel my head roll back gently, exposing my neck. Using her fingertip, she traces my jaw line from ear to ear, surprising me when she takes an earlobe into her mouth, sucking and nibbling on it carefully. When she's finished with my ear, she moves her finger along my internal jugular vein, and I notice how my pulse quickens in response to her touch. I am in awe of the small and subtle ways she is affecting my body. I hear myself sigh contentedly.

It occurs to me that there have been very few times in my life where I've focused on how wonderful it feels to be touched. This isn't the kind of touch that's a means to an end, like when my more youthful hands would make cursory grabs at breasts and asses in preparation for sex. This is about the sensation of connection. It's sensual and erotic, without any other goal in mind than intimacy, as if this will go nowhere else, with no other build-up in mind.

I'm stunned when I realize that in all my years, no one ever took the time to touch me like this. I always had to be in control, to be the initiator of sex. Jessica would hold my hand frequently, but she never really touched me. She would kiss me, or on rare occasions touch my cock, but there was nothing like this.

I open my eyes, watching Bella's fingers glide down my arms, leaving behind a wake of goose bumps. Again, such a small thing, but more proof that she affects me down to a cellular level; even my hair follicles respond to her touch. She pulls me to sit up, taking my hand into her own. She uses the tip of her nose to trace the various lines of my handprint, and it still feels incredible. It's just the tip of her nose, yet it can yield so much. She replaces her nose with her fingertips, just lightly moving them over my palm. Finally, her tongue follows and I listen carefully to how my breathing pattern shifts in response. I find myself coming completely undone, and it's from nothing more than her working over my hand. I suddenly comprehend what she means—sex is so much more than just two sets of genitals coming together. The entire skin surface is one huge sexual organ. I silently vow to myself that I will never ignore this again; I make it a goal to set her skin on fire the next time I get the chance. For now, I let her work her magic over me, allowing myself to receive instead of always being the one to give.

She silently kisses each of my fingertips and massages her fingers over the back of my hand. She sucks each finger into her mouth, taking her time. It's as if she doesn't want to leave any part of my hand untouched. When she's finally finished, I have no idea how long she's been at it, and I find that I don't really care. We're not on a timetable at all; I feel like she merely wants to cover every square inch of my body with sensation. In her touch, I can feel that on every level imaginable, she loves me, she loves my body.

I glance at her breasts and notice that her nipples are hard. I smile with satisfaction, understanding that not only does she get excited when I touch her body, but also when she touches mine. I might not have an erection, but my body can still turn on my woman. In a way, it makes me feel even more powerful than if my cock was hard all the time. I really need to stop putting this insane pressure on myself to perform. Bella doesn't expect it, she just wants to love me and be loved by me, no matter what the delivery mechanism is. She's so wise, and it makes me love her even more than I already do.

I watch her admire my other arm and hand, delivering the same soft touches and sensations that she lavished upon the opposite side. Skipping over my torso, she admires my legs with soft brushes of her fingertips. She gives me a foot massage, and it dawns on me that no one—literally no one—has touched my feet before. It feels amazing and surprisingly erotic. I'm a man who was trained in the methods of western medicine and science; the idea of acupressure and massage always seemed laughable to me. As Bella's hand works on my foot, however, I have yet another epiphany: there's most definitely a connection between different areas of the body. When she presses certain spots, I swear that I can feel it all over the place. I'm shocked at this discovery. How many things have I missed out on because I was too arrogant to keep an open mind? With that thought, I realize that Bella Swan has caused profound changes not only in my life, but also in my mind. Time after time after time, she has shown me new ways of looking at things. It all makes me wonder how much I will continue to change and grow based upon her influence. I barely even recognize myself any more, but in the best of ways. I had no idea I could be this person that I've become under her tutelage, and I'm not even trying to change.

Without saying a word, she turns me onto my stomach and gives the same attention to my backside as she did to my front. Her fingers barely touch along my spine, but the sensation is electric. When she switches from fingertips to tongue, I let out a strained gargling noise in response. I can't begin to quantify how incredible it feels. I had no idea that the back was an erogenous zone. I've completely ignored it all these years, only to discover how sublime it feels to be touched there. Her hands move to my ass, merely touching the skin's surface lightly. When her finger runs along the crease between my upper thigh and the bottom curve of my rear, my hips instantly lift off from the bed in response.

I'm actually caught off guard by my body's autonomous movements; it's totally unexpected. I've always been a cerebral person, having difficulty turning off my thought process when having sex. This new experience of allowing myself to be touched, not knowing what to expect, lets me focus on each individual sensation. My body is simply reacting independently from my mind and I never know what it's going to do. I never imagined that the most basic form of human contact—finger on skin—could feel so overwhelmingly erotic.

Once again, this is all Bella's doing. She pushed me past the edge and I almost felt broken—fearful and humiliated. If I had allowed my instincts to take over when that happened, I would have asked Bella to leave and I would have ruminated about it, making it ten times worse than it actually was. If I'm completely honest with myself, I don't know that I could have ever fully recovered from that. I think it would have niggled away in my brain forever, always casting an invisible shadow over my sexual life with her. Instead, Bella forced us to address what happened, to deal with it, so that we could move past it. I've never been good at accepting my mistakes; from the time I was a child, I always hated doing things wrong. Being a surgeon only intensified my need to be perfect. I've spent 65 years honing my need to strive for perfection. Within the span of a few hours, Bella showed me a new way, a gentler way, a better way to live my life: by accepting that mistakes are going to happen, but it's okay, because that's how we learn and grow.

I'm suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of energy. A surge runs through my body as I fully embrace what I've just discovered. Without even thinking, I sit up abruptly and pull Bella into my arms. I can't help but smother her with kisses, grabbing her all over, trying so hard to communicate my love, my devotion, my admiration for her. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I'm panting and sighing. I have no control over what I'm doing; I'm all passion and emotion, impulsivity and spontaneity. For the first time in my entire life, my brain has no connection to anything that's happening. While this is very disconcerting, it's also completely and totally freeing.

This, I think; this is love. This is real. This is possible. This is phenomenal. This is everything.

Perhaps sensing my utter undoing, Bella pulls back from me, a look of shock on her face.

"Silverfox, what's come over you? Are you all right?" she asks, concerned.

I sit there for the span of a minute with my mouth gaping, unable to form any words that could possibly capture what I'm presently feeling.

"No, Bella. No, I'm not all right."

"Is it still bothering you? The restraints?"

I shake my head vigorously.

"I feel so different. I can't even find words to say how I feel…" I trail off. I have no idea how to share with her this incredible feeling I'm experiencing.

I take a few deep breaths, attempting to center myself. Bella looks panic stricken and I need to be able to reassure her that everything is fine. In fact, it's so much better than fine.

I start by kissing her forehead so she knows that this rush of emotions all comes from a place of sheer and utter bliss.

"You are such a unique person, and I mean that in every sense of the word. I've never met anyone like you. You're full of love and absolute kindness. You give and give without any expectation of reciprocity. You move through life with flexibility and yet so much strength. You let your husband go to another woman, but you harbor no resentment. You're like a beacon of everything that is good. You're my sun—you're the center of my universe. You've taken everything that I'm afraid of and shown me that fear is useless. You've given me permission to be who I really am. You accept me for all my shortcomings. I'm in love… I'm so in love with you. Over and over again, I'm convinced I could never be happier, never be more in love, and I keep proving myself wrong. No, you keep proving me wrong. The way I feel about you, it's limitless, and I'm so overwhelmed by my emotions. I've never felt this way before. You're everything to me."

Bella moves into my lap, wrapping her legs around me so our faces are only inches apart. She's got tears in her eyes and her smile is so wide, so genuine and pure.

"Oh, my Silverfox, my beautiful, beautiful man," she coos softly. "You have no idea, do you? The wonder isn't me, it's us. It's what we make together. We're both better because of what we bring out in one another. It's our positive synergy."

Bella's tears are coming down harder now, big thick streams down her flushed cheeks.

"Really? It's us?" I wonder at her statement. "It seems like it's all you. That's how it feels to me."

"I haven't had a single significant relationship since my marriage ended years ago," she reminds me. "I'm hardly a relationship guru—anything good that stems from me is brought about by you, by your effect on me."

Is it possible? That alone, we're just fumblers in the dark, but together, we're a masterpiece? How else could I possibly begin to describe what's happening to me?

I wipe her cheeks then kiss her underneath each eye to honor the emotions that brought forth those tears.

It isn't until I feel her hand on my penis that I realize I'm no longer limp. I let out a deep breath of satisfaction because every time she touches me, it feels so good. She reaches for the bottle on the nightstand then generously spreads the lube over my erection. She is careful and thorough, and takes time to coat herself as well.

Without uttering a word, she slips onto me, I slide into her, and we look into each other's eyes. My arms are wrapped as tightly around her body as hers are around mine. In a combination of her efforts and my own, our bodies move together, soaking up the sublime feeling of making love. It's the first time I've had sex where I have no need for conclusion in my mind, I just want to soak up the incredible sensation of being inside of her. I almost want to stay like this forever, knowing that I will never again feel this connected to another human being. Our minds and our bodies are in complete harmony. Our gasps are a concert.

She comes slowly, almost like a sigh. Once she's finished, I continue my slow strokes, again just feeling the sensation. I eventually arrive at the finish line, and it's almost more satisfying emotionally than physically. For the first time, I understand that who comes first, who comes second—none of that really matters. What's truly important is that we're satisfying each other in so many other ways than a scoreboard. Pleasure, which we gain in so many other ways than just bonking each other silly, is what we must always strive for.

We collapse onto the bed, spent from our emotional whirlwind. I feel like the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes, beaming and content and amazed at the wonder that is love. I pull my Bella in close to me, and we drop off into the kind of heavy sleep that arrives when you're fully satisfied from having lived perfectly in every moment of the day.

END NOTE: So, I've been interviewing for a new job that I wasn't exactly looking for. I've been through seven—yes, seven—interviews so far, and I think I've reached the end. Suffice it to say, my life is interminably chaotic, and it's going to continue to be for the foreseeable future.

I am fully committed to completing this story, but I won't give it short shrift just to get it finished. It's also clearly going to be a bit longer than 10 chapters. As it's presently sketched out, I anticipate it will be a total of 12 chapters. The good news is that chapter 10 is already half written, so it should post much more quickly than did chapter 9. If I do get this new job, one of the things I'll ask for is a week off in between in order to get this puppy wrapped up. I just hate it that I've been making you all wait so long. Thank you, for those of you who are still with me, for being so patient.