Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA.
For Cara
Bold Gestures
Chapter Eleven
September 1958
Feeling like an animal—trapped in a locked cage—I sat at the head of our table, waiting for Roe to serve dinner.
We were in the dining room. Seth's parents were here. Franny's boyfriend is leaving for Princeton in a couple of days. This summer having flown by—not only for me, but others as well—Franny was a heartbroken mess. I wished I could do something to make her feel better, but I didn't know what to say.
Our eldest wasn't going away to attend college. She plans to attend CCNY—City College of New York. She hadn't applied anywhere else, and she kept hinting at living in the dorms.
I really and truly didn't want to allow it.
Roe was totally against the idea. She flat-out refused, said it was out of the question, but then Franny's eyes met mine, an unspoken plea within them.
I felt I owed her something.
Franny's a young woman, and I felt I needed to trust her choices—trust her to know what she wants. She's not a child anymore, as much as that killed me, and I hoped for the best. We're a subway ride away, a phone call, God forbid something should ever happen.
And I'd make sure she was looked after.
Logically, I knew she'd be home every weekend, every chance she had to sneak away. But I didn't know what the hype was about—her living in the dorms. The campus is up in the "nice" part of Harlem, if there is such a thing.
Weeks ago, a day before Franny had to put her name on the residential list, we went to check it out. She barely said five words to me, but the school looked nice enough. It was almost like a small town within the larger city—trees lining the streets, all different kinds of young people everywhere.
I saw two men holding hands, which was just weird.
There were squares, greasers, beatniks, and the sloppier version of a beatnik. I'm not sure what to call them, but oh well. There were people of all different shades of ethnicities—very diverse. I'd never seen so many various peoples within such a small space.
Franny kept getting excited, and she'd take a flyer from everyone and anyone she saw—swearing she wanted to be more political, because people who protest are cool, brave to stand up for what they want. Those were her words, and I was proud of her. I told her to go ahead—protest, but if I found out she was taking off her brassiere to burn it, she was coming home.
End of story.
She agreed, and we've gotten along a little better, but there are things we don't discuss that she feels like bringing up. Asking me if Bella's going to college, asking me how Little C is doing, and I ignore all her inquiries; I beg her to stop, too.
If she had suspicions before, now she knows for sure.
Those first nights at Bella's apartment…we barely slept.
We'd go out to dinner and take the baby with us. She'd cook, we'd eat in bed...
It was nice…peaceful, and then I got caught up.
I'd leave to go to work.
Fuck, I needed to work if I was going to support two households and send Franny to university.
But, otherwise, I stayed holed in that apartment with Bella for a week straight.
And I didn't want to leave.
I'd sneak around, catch up with Marie while she was playing outside. I'd get her candy, a malted, and we'd talk. My youngest never asks any questions. Hell, she'd been playing outside so much with her friends—with school being out—she never realized I wasn't coming home at all.
Then Rose came knocking at the social club.
When Emmett told her I wasn't there, Rose went to Carlo and Renee's.
Only Emmett knew where Bella's apartment was…
But Rose made such a fuss, every wiseguy I bumped into told me I had to go home—control my wife because she was getting the others excited.
I was so angry, so disappointed, finding it maddening to leave Bella's apartment.
I slapped the piss out of Rosalie.
She'd told me—that same day I got the apartment—not to come home.
Now she wants me? That made no sense. The bills were paid; there was food on the table. I'd send Rosalie flowers every couple days with an envelope, and I knew she was getting that money.
She cried, kept telling me that I didn't love her…and I didn't know what to do. I told her she was wrong, lying, and we fucked. I apologized for hitting her, and then I was stuck here for quite a few days—for appearance's sake.
Apparently, whatever I'm doing, being with Bella, it's made me a better lover. Rosalie can't get enough, and I get frustrated and angry when she touches me—she annoys me. It's like…I don't know. My wife's more sexual than she's ever been, making noises I'd never heard before. She doesn't have to like me, but she'll still fuck me. Roe can turn it on and off whenever. She turns on the tears to soften me—or, make me lose my temper and then be apologetic—and then she happily ignores me.
Ugh…I haven't seen Bella in three days. I only saw her one day this week, and only twice the week before. I've been trying to keep a fair balance, where my family comes first—comes before my girlfriend.
It's easier to stay away once I've been gone a day, so . . .
But Franny's always with Seth, Marie is always running around outside.
I told Rose I'd be here again tonight, and she told me about some purple frock from Macy's basement.
I shuddered, gulping the rest of my wine down, hoping to get drunk, needing to pass out before Roe came at me.
Seth's mother, Sue was helping Franny and Rose in the kitchen, and I was at the table…His father, Harry, kept talking about his job. It all sounded fabulous, and I lit a cigarette, wondering where the food was.
Then I glanced around, noticing Marie wasn't here. "Excuse me." I left the table, going into the kitchen. "Where's Marie?"
Roe puffed her cheeks. "I told her—six o'clock."
I rolled my eyes. "She doesn't have a watch." I walked around the women to go outside.
It was quiet, the sun having died down a bit. The only reason I knew nothing was amiss was because I saw the trash cans lined up. A few kids were sitting on a stoop across the street, which was obviously the jail. My daughter plays these marathon games of cocolevio, which was something I'd play as a kid. It's a mixture of tag and manhunt, and there's a jail for when you're captured.
"Where's Marie?" I asked the two boys and the girl—who were in jail.
They all exchanged glances.
I slumped my shoulders. "Where does she usually hide?"
"Behind Mrs. Draper's Virgin Mary!" was shouted from paces away, and that kid resembled Emmett. I'd bet that was his eldest who's twelve.
"You Tony?" I asked him.
Tony lifted a shifty brow. "Who wants'ta know? You Marie's old man?"
"Yeah…I'm Marie's dad." I turned to see a head poking out between parked cars, but it wasn't my daughter.
"Mrs. Draper's mean—Marie's the only one who sneaks into her yard."
"Thanks!" I waved, but I didn't feel like...searching for her. I cupped my hands around my mouth, sucking in a deep breath. "ALL IN! ALL IN! FREE ALL! OLLY, OLLY OXEN FREE!" I boomed, hoping my voice carried.
Suddenly, children were popping up all over the place.
Whether I was participating, playing or not, I'd called the game.
"You ruined it!" Emmett came out from a driveway, his seven-year-old held awkwardly under his arm. He likes being home even less than before. Angela had the baby weeks back. It was another boy—I forgot what they named him—but he's colicky. Emmett does his part, gladly, by getting himself and the kids out of his house.
I laughed. "Have you seen Marie?"
He nodded, pointing. "Behind the Virgin Mary—or, check the trash cans."
I grimaced, thinking about my kid in a garbage can. "Thanks . . . MARIE!" I hollered, speedily walking down the block.
When I saw a trash can fall over, and no one else around it, I waited a second. Sure enough, Marie came crawling out of it. She was filthy. Her skippys were brown along with her white bobbysocks. There was dirt on her skirt, and her shirt wasn't tucked.
"You're a mess." I crouched low.
She wiped sweat from her forehead, which only made it dirtier. "You called the game? Why?"
"It's six o'clock," I said.
Her eyes widened. "Already?"
I grasped her hand, and we walked back to the house. "Mom's gonna be upset when she sees your new skirt."
Marie pushed her unkempt hair back, dirt on her cheek. "She said I could play."
I nodded. "I'm gonna tell Mom to buy you chinos."
She scrunched her nose. "That's for boys."
"Not only for boys." I know Rose is conservative—and I don't think she even owns a pair of slacks. My wife could either get with the program, or I'd take Marie shopping myself. "Go upstairs and clean up."
"Fine." She walked upstairs and then stopped. "After dinner, can I—"
"No. It'll be dark, and I told you about cocolevio after the streetlight comes on. You can't hide somewhere—and no one knows where you are. Go wash up, and you're taking a bath after dinner."
She pouted, sad, but she listened.
Sighing, I joined Roe in the kitchen again. "Look—" I counted out some money, glancing around to make sure we were alone "—instead of worrying about lingerie, buy our kid some pants. I don't like her playing in her dresses."
She smirked at me. "I worry about lingerie because I wanna keep things exciting—"
"Wanna keep me on my toes?" I smiled, gathering her into my arms.
Rose nestled into me.
"Talk less—leave something to the imagination."
She scoffed, pushing me away.
I lit a cigarette, sitting at the table again.
Dinner passed without much fanfare. Harry and Sue left, and we promised to go to their house for supper next Sunday. Franny and Seth walked up to the ice cream parlor. Marie had begged to go with them, but I kept her home. After she took a bath, we sat on the couch and watched TV.
Roe sent her to bed at nine, and I was dozing off at a quarter after. When the TV continued to sing, that long "ding," the stripes on the screen, I hopped up—realizing it was after ten.
After shutting the set off, I went to get the outside light, but what I saw made me smile.
Franny and Seth sat on the stoop, huddled in an embrace, looking up to the sky.
I flicked the lights on and off.
"Papa!" Franny bitched.
I opened the door. "Say goodnight."
Franny widened her eyes, shooing me back in with a wave of her hand.
Smiling wide, I closed the door, peeking through the drapes to spy on them.
Seth's a brave little fucker. He went for it, leaning toward her.
"Isn't it sweet?" Roe's hands roamed up my chest; she held me from behind.
"Yeah," I admitted.
She kissed my shoulder. "I'll be in bed." She tongued my earlobe.
"I'll be up soon." Turning to face her, I saw her fluffy robe, and only God knew what was underneath.
She giggled, trailing her hand along my abs.
I cringed, flipping her the bird when she turned her back.
A minute later, Franny came in with stars in her eyes. "'Night, Papa…"
"He must be some kisser," I said.
She giggled and covered her mouth. "Yeah."
I nodded. "Keep it at kissing."
"Goodnight, Papa." Her tone suggested our talk was over.
I kissed her forehead. "Sleep well, princess."
She grinned, trailing up the stairs.
I watched her go, and then I grabbed the bottle of brandy I hid above the fridge.
Wanting to get some sleep, I drank straight from the bottle.
"Edward…?" Roe was on the stairs.
I chugged the booze back, shivering as I swallowed, and I had a nice buzz fogging my head. "Get in bed—" I hiccupped, quick to take one last sip.
I heard her scurrying to get into our bedroom.
Then I smoked a cigarette, and then another one, which followed another sip of cognac.
I paused before opening my bedroom door.
Tipsy, I swore I wouldn't laugh at whatever was on the other side.
I realize how cold and indifferent I can be toward Roe…While I don't give a fuck, life is easier when she's happier, and it's also my duty…to fuck her. No one else is going to. And she kept shit together, minded the girls and shit when I was in the can. She puts up with all my crap, although she doesn't do it silently…
Biting my lips together, I entered the room, and I saw her in my periphery—this blur of purple to my left.
"Edward…"
I felt something soft hit my arm.
Rose wore this feathered scarf thing around her neck, and a tight, long nightgown. Her pale blonde hair draped over her shoulders in loose ringlets of curls. Her hair is usually up in a bun, perfect and away from her neck.
"You like it?" She got up onto her knees.
I nodded, twirling her soft hair between my fingers.
She lifted my undershirt to place kisses along my abs, and then her mouth traveled lower—her hand snuck into my pants. "You're not…" Roe gazed up to me.
"Just gimme a second," I whispered, closing my eyes.
"I can…um, I heard about snowblowing?" she asked.
I laughed. "You're not doing that." I unzipped my pants to stroke my cock. "Turn around."
"Why not?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
I stared to the ceiling. "Because if I wanted that…just fuckin' turn around. If I come down your throat, how you gonna pregnant?" My words were bullshit. Regardless, the few times we have fucked, I've been pulling out.
"True," she mused, getting on all fours.
With her huge, shiny, purple ass in my face, I jacked my dick—hard, and I was really pounding the braggiole.
"What's wrong?"
I cringed. "Slap me."
She whipped around. "What?"
Out of breath, I nodded. "Free shot—fuckin' whack me one, Roe. Go for it." I hoped to get angry, wake myself up, I guess. My cock was soft, and I kept my eyes closed while I thought about Bella, thought about what we'd done the last time.
"Why would I do that?" She palmed my cheek; meanwhile, she gets loose with the hands all the time.
But the ONE time I fuckin' ask her . . .
I refused to lose the mental image I had, kept my eyes closed.
"Just fuckin'—" My head turned after she slapped me. "Again." She got the other side.
"Bella hits harder than that—" I lied; Bella's never hit me, but the blow she'd landed forced me back.
I laughed my ass off. "Oh, shit!"
Her eyes were an icy blue. "Don't say that name in my house!"
I grabbed her ankles. "This is my house—I'll say what I want."
She looked away from me. "Does Bella place you in her mouth?"
I nodded. "Sometimes…when I want that." I pushed her nightgown up, and she wasn't wearing any panties.
She licked her lips, rubbing up my chest, getting into it but then tears fell from her cheeks.
Ironically, what gets me going doesn't get her going…
"Hey…" I made her face me. "You're my wife. What do you gotta be upset about?"
She sniffled. "I'd rather be your whore."
I tapped my finger to her lips. "Don't say that." I searched her eyes, and like always, I found them to be empty—I found the crow's feet unattractive, and I felt old, my cock shriveling back up.
"Do you love her?"
"No." I was honest, scooting away from her.
Roe smirked, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You're mine…'til death do us part."
I laughed. "Yeah, okay." I pushed her back. "Go to sleep. I'mma make sure the doors are locked."
"Didn't you do that already?"
"Go wash your face—get the tears away." I jerked my head to the hall. "I won't fuck you if you're cryin'."
Roe grabbed her robe and placed it on.
"I'll be ready for ya when you're done." I winked.
And when she entered the bathroom…
When I heard the faucet running…
I grabbed my shoes and my hat, made sure I had my keys. I didn't even bother putting on a shirt or donning my jacket.
I got into my car and peeled out of the driveway.
Down the block, I stopped at the liquor store for a fifth of brandy, and then drove to Bella's apartment.
All the lights were off, but I sat on my hood, drinking—wondering if I should go upstairs or go back home.
There was nothing going on at the social club, although Emmett might have a few dames by now.
But by the time I came to that conclusion, I couldn't drive.
With Carlisle out of the can now, all I've been doing is brokering sit-downs. He's older than every captain I have, and he has always had the respect. Making him a fugazzi king was harder than I thought. Everyone still paid me, everyone wanted my approval, which was a trip and a half.
I'd been home from the joint a few months, and everything I'd wanted for ten years…I got it.
I got everything I wanted.
So, why wasn't I happier about it?
Sure, I saw what was there, and I stole it—took it because it was there for the taking.
All my life, if I wanted something, I went for it.
Enough is never enough, and I always want more.
I walked up the block to use the pay phone.
"Yellow!" Emmett sounded happy.
"What's goin' on?"
"Nothin'…not a thing." Now, he seemed bored. "Carlisle's tellin' stories—"
"What else is new?" My tone was sarcastic.
He sighed. "We're playin' blackjack."
I nodded. "You got bunnies there?"
But that wasn't appealing at all.
There was only one woman I wanted to see tonight...
"There's a few…You home? Why don't'chu come through?" he asked.
I didn't want to get into what was truly going on.
That for the sake of balance, I was stalling—keeping myself from doing what I knew I'd eventually do, what I wanted and needed to do.
"I gotta go." I ended the call, walking back toward Bella's apartment.
Stumbling into the living room 'cause I couldn't see well in the dark, I tried to be quiet. I placed my keys and Luger on the kitchen table, and then perused the fridge. I ate some salami out a cold cut package, still taking sporadic sips of my bottle.
When the light came on overhead, I shielded my eyes.
"Edward?" Bella was happy to see me. "I haven't seen you in days. I thought—" She came right up to me and hugged me tight. "Hmmm," she hummed, resting her cheek to my chest.
I closed my eyes, squeezing her tightly.
"My mom came by today…" Bella rambled on and on about her parents.
I listened.
Her father still isn't speaking to her, but she's been getting along better with her mother.
In fact, Bella went on to tell me that Renee asked if she could take Li'l C for the day—the rest of the weekend—because she was going to visit her aunt in New Jersey, the beach down the shore. She'll be picking him up tomorrow morning.
This weekend is the long weekend before summer is officially over.
I listened, nodding when I was supposed to.
But I kept studying her gorgeous features, smiling wider when her face would light up—her words enthusiastic. "And then, I thought, if I didn't see you tonight…I'd get dressed up and stop by the club tomorrow night." She poked my chest. "I wanna fuck on your desk again...that was wild," she giggled.
I hummed, pushing her t-shirt higher on her legs.
Bella wore a rag on her head, a scarf covering her hair, but she was still beautiful.
She also had on this red, ratty, Coca-Cola shirt that reached her knees. It had a few holes. I decided I'd get her some nightgowns. The ones she had were long and childlike, nothing a woman would wear.
"Are you drunk?" She sniffed me, making a face. "Golly, Edward...Did'ju drink the bar?"
"Something like that," I whispered.
She palmed my cheeks. "What's wrong? You're not a drinker...the hard stuff, anyway." Her eyes were bright, even if her concern for me shined.
Her gaze held so much, and I hoped it always would.
"Rough day," I said. "No biggie."
"You should sleep it off," she giggled. "I can help...put you to bed." Bella bit her lip, sliding off the table to sit on my lap.
I got to my feet, placing her back on the table and leaning my forehead against hers. "Don't fall in love with me."
She furrowed her brow, but she didn't say anything.
"We got somethin' good." I held her face. "Let's not ruin it with that shit. I'd end up hurting you, and—" I didn't want to hurt her, nor did I want her to hate me.
Bella smirked, inhaling deeply through her nose. "You got it."
"Do you love me?" I asked.
She shook her head, scrunching her nose. "Wait…is it a sex thing? Do you want me to say it?"
I chuckled. "Only if you meant it…it's—" It was irrelevant. "Get in bed…I'll be in soon."
"Oh, sounds good…" She scooted off the table. "I didn't know if you'd stop by…Lemme clean up a little." She tore that thing from her head, shaking her hair out.
I waved her away, and I straightened up the kitchen.
While Bella did her thing in the bathroom, I checked on Li'l C. He just keeps getting bigger and bigger every time I see him. "Hey…" I whispered but he didn't stir. "I'll see you in the morning." I lightly squeezed his foot.
Last month, Bella was contemplating letting Jake see him. I didn't weigh in, as it wasn't my business, but Bella wanted my opinion. It all seemed innocent enough in nature.
All the kid wanted was to bring Li'l C to his mom's house for dinner on Sundays. The baby would be fine. If Jake didn't know what he was doing, surely his mother would. I felt for Jake, too, being kept away from his kid. It wasn't right, and he takes Li'l C fairly often now.
The only thing I don't like is the way Jake looks at Bella. But I refused to dwell on that. He keeps his distance, so to speak, only coming to pick up the kid.
It must be cool having a boy. If I ever manage to get Roe knocked up again, I'll pray for a boy—someone to pass my name on to, someone to head the family when I'm gone.
"What are you doin'?" Bella whispered.
I shook my head, realizing I'd been staring at a toddler for however long. "Was just checkin' on him."
Bella waved the air, waved my cigarette smoke away. "It causes earaches—I was told." She opened his window a bit.
"Sorry." I took a drag of my cigarette, walking toward our bedroom.
I kicked off my shoes, taking a sip of brandy, and then I took off my slacks—draping them over Bella's vanity chair. My shirt followed, and I got into bed naked, getting under the covers.
Bella wore a smile as she jumped onto the bed, making me bounce with the mattress. "Get rid of this." She stole my bottle, placing it on the nightstand. "You don't drink…you might have a beer, but—" She stared at me. "You can talk and I'll listen for a change," she giggled.
"Trust me…I needed a drink." I wasn't going to bore her with my problems.
Without any phony pretenses or empty words, I smacked my lips to hers. She knows why I'm here, and she takes care of me, just as much as I take care of her in other ways.
Our kiss was sloppy and perfect, and I was rock hard in an instant—excitement flowing through me.
I pulled back to caress my knuckles on her cheek. "Where you been all my life, baby doll?"
Bella smirked, pushing me back to lose her shirt.
"Fuck." I cursed, drinking in the sight of her, sitting up and turning on the lamp. "Lay back—lemme look at you."
Bella—always eager to do exactly what I say—leaned back against the pillows.
I got onto my knees, hovering over her, my hands palming her breasts.
She sighed, pushing into my hands.
"Turn around."
Bella rolled over, got on all fours, and my hands explored her back, squeezing her ample rear—making the skin red with how rough my hands were. I pulled her up, her back flush against my chest.
"Beautiful," I whispered, kissing down her neck, muffling my face into her soft hair. My hands ran down her stomach, to her thighs to spread them, quickly rubbing up the insides.
"Edward…touch me," she begged, yanking my hair, clasping her hands around the back of my neck.
I complied, my fingers running up and down her slick folds. "You're ready for me."
"Always," she hummed.
"Good…" My lips met her neck, my finger twirling circles… "You like that, baby?"
"Yeah," Bella sighed, her breaths quickening. "Don't stop, Edward." She whimpered, pinching and pulling her nipples. "Don't...just like that."
I kissed her cheek. "I won't stop until you're finished." My nose trailed along her neck, down to kiss her shoulder.
It was good to go slow, savor the moment, take a minute to enjoy it, to calm the fuck down.
When she came, exploding over my fingers, I sucked them back into my mouth—my body stiffening. "Turn around."
Bella was out of breath as she leaned against the pillows again.
With her cheeks and chest flushed, she widened her legs for me.
"Look at you…" I whispered; she was perfect, and I rubbed my hands up and down the insides of her thighs—where she's the softest. "You taste—" I dipped my finger into her hole for another drop, placing a kiss on her knee.
As my lips closed the distance to her pussy, every kiss I'd place on her leg opened her wider.
"Edward…" Her chest heaved up and down, and her head lolled back.
Only when I was faced with her pussy, on my stomach, did I get nervous. I'd never done this before, but I wanted to—in the worst way imaginable.
"What are you doing?" she asked, curious.
I pushed her back down, placing a chaste kiss on her mound.
She let out a shuddering breath.
"Close your eyes," I instructed.
My fingers made a V, opening her up, and I nuzzled my nose to her clit.
Bella moaned, a shake to her frame.
I slipped my tongue out for a taste—straight from the source, and my lips nestled deeper, this feeling of satisfaction washing over me while I lapped at her pussy—like the thirsty man I was.
"You like that?" I watched as my fingers fucked her again, too.
She kept her eyes closed, her hips gyrating along with my touch.
"Look at me—watch me." I placed my mouth on her again, my free hand roaming up to pinch her nipple.
Bella gasped for air, and a second later, she stiffened—coming faster than I'd ever seen her.
I sucked the juices from her hole as she watched.
"Oh my God, Edward…" She giggled into her hands, and then she reached to hug me, which was... "Wow. That was—"
I pulled her legs closer, my cock hurtin' with how hard I was. "Shut up."
I didn't need to hear about how magical it was.
I didn't need to hear about her day earlier, either.
Just like caring about her kid was irrelevant, too.
Dismayed by life in general, I refused to let that happen to Bella.
I refused to let her be disappointed in the future.
I refused to let her get hurt.
And I didn't want to be the reason her spirit died...
Be the reason for her emptiness.
I'm not her boyfriend.
I'd never be her husband.
And she seems to think…
If she wasn't in love with me yet, I knew she would be soon—just how eager she is to please me is a huge indicator, and I felt the need to remind her of all the reasons why she shouldn't fall for me.
I wouldn't let Bella get disappointed.
Angry, I slid right in; she was fucking soaked. "Oh…" I let out a breath, my body relaxing, as it seemed the world—everything just slowed down, the tension, the weight of everything leaving my body.
And it was disheartening that I'd feel this much pleasure for the first time in days—while I'm with Bella.
She's my slut, nothing more, nothing less…
And she needed to know...just in case she forgot her place, her role, I was going to remind her.
"Edward…" Bella pushed back, squeezing my shoulders. "Don't—don't go too deep. It hurts."
Leaning back, I lifted her ankle to kiss it, rest it against my shoulder as I started to move—holding her hips. She felt too fucking good, and I hovered over her, grabbing her other leg to throw it over my left shoulder.
And I placed my hand to her forehead, holding her there—afraid she'd move—my hips going faster and faster, deeper and deeper as she moaned out her pleasure or her pain.
I didn't care which one.
"Edwa—"
I covered her mouth with my hand. "Just take it!" I tossed my head back, reveling in the feel of her—the warmth, the wetness of her pussy, the sweetness I still tasted on my tongue. "Look at that—" I stared down, watching, and then I looked to her face.
I wouldn't remove my hand, but I searched her eyes. "My cock slut—you love it." I removed my hand. "Say you love it."
"I love it," she whimpered.
I covered her mouth again, going faster and faster, the back of her knees resting on my shoulders, her torso bent at an angle.
My cock was unrelenting, and I couldn't back off—no matter what was muffled by my hand, my hips pounded and slammed into her while Bella was practically curled into a ball.
The sounds of our skin slapping rang through the air. Her wet pussy making those slippery noises, all of which made my chest tight.
With force, I thrust into her—over and over and fucking over—while I held her down.
Bella kept moaning, trying to match my moves now; she liked it.
When she climaxed, when her pussy hugged my cock, I bucked into her the hardest, going the deepest I could—wishing I had another yard of dick so it'd come out her fuckin' mouth!
"Fuck!" I came, weakly pushing and pulling her hips on and off me still. "Jesus…" I collapsed to Bella's side.
She rolled over, away from me, holding the sheet to her body. "You could've pulled out," she whispered.
"But I don't have to." I panted, giving her ass a pat.
"I hit my head." It sounded like she was crying.
I rolled my eyes. "And yet you still came...you'll live."
Bella let out a short giggle, no matter if she had been crying, or was crying. "It was wild."
I raised a brow, expecting her to hate me for that. "What?"
She sighed. "That was good. Thanks." Bella patted my bicep. "Good job, Edward."
"Go make us something to eat," I said.
"What?" She faced me.
I stood up, my legs feeling like jelly as I grabbed a cigarette. "I'm hungry." I got back in bed.
She laughed. "Is my name Roe?" Bella quirked a brow. "Playing house was fun for a week...at best." There was venom in her tone.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"I'm not your wife, Edward. You've made that pretty fuckin' clear!" Bella left the bed. "We fucked. No big deal!" She spat my words back at me. "Nothin' more, nothin' less." She wiped her hands clean.
"Bella—"
"Pussy...That's all you get from me." She snatched her pillow off the bed, and she walked toward the living room. "If you're hungry…You know where the door is. Go home to Roe...You snore too fuckin' loud anyway!" She flipped me her middle finger and closed the door after herself.
Dumbfounded, I sat in bed, smoking my cigarette.
And I should have let it go—what she'd said—but I couldn't.
This, first and foremost, was to be my home away from home—my port in the storm.
After I pulled my slacks back on, I stomped into the parlor.
Bella was getting comfortable on the couch, but I lifted her up and brought her into the kitchen.
"Let go of me!" She kicked her feet.
"You're wrong," I said, placing her down.
She backed away from me, holding on to the counter.
"You're whatever the fuck I want you to be. From a whore to a fuckin' chef! Now, make me something!" I pointed to the fridge.
"Fuck you!" She was suddenly brave. "I don't see you for days—you're gone for days, and you couldn't even call!" she shouted. "You come here drunk. Fuck me, and now—"
"And now I want you to cook." I dug into my pocket. "Oh, I forgot—standard fee." I threw a five at her.
She crumpled the bill into a ball and tossed back at me. "You're not even angry at me!" she hollered, wearing a smile, and then she started to laugh.
"Don't do that!" I warned.
"No, it's classic, comical..." She held her gut, chuckling.
"Shut your fuckin' mouth." I grabbed her arm and opened the fridge, placing her in front of it. "Make me something!"
She whipped around to face me, fire in her eyes. "Your frumpy, old hag of a wife pissed you off! Your life is boring—you're miserable, Edward!" She stiffened, standing taller as she slammed the refrigerator door shut. "You're so fuckin' miserable that you hafta come here and shit on me? Make me miserable, too? I should have listened to my mother! You're cruel, a brute, cold! I hate you!" she seethed.
I nodded. "Good…go with that." I'd gotten my point across, loud and clear. She'll never love me now. Especially if I kept this up. Her hating me was better than the alternative. "I'll take a sandwich—easy on the mayo this time."
Without looking at her, I trailed back into the bedroom.
While I smoked a cigarette, I thought about getting us a TV for in here.
"I spit in it!" She tossed me the dish. "And I hope you choke!"
I took a large bite, making a show of it. "Thank you."
After I finished eating, I brought my plate to the sink, noticing Bella fast asleep on the couch.
I gathered her into my arms and brought her to the bed.
She never stirred, must have been knackered.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, hugging her tightly while I closed my eyes. "One day, I'll tell you why…"
The thought of breaking her heart, of one day making her eyes as empty as Roe's, still bothered me.
I'd do whatever it took to make sure that wouldn't happen.
I'll continue to treat her more like a whore and less like a girlfriend.
Even if she legitimately hates me . . .
I won't let her get hurt or disappointed.
I've been nothing but honest with her—even if the truth hurts—so she knows this is all about sex.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
"Don't fall in love with me," I told her, knowing that'd ruin this.
She rolled over, nestling into me.
I shook my head, knowing she was still asleep, and then I turned off the light.
Thank you for reading.
