A Pale Fire

Chapter 21

AN: Urgh, getting this chpater out was sooo hard. Between writer's block and my beta's being unable to get the correct documents back and forth between us, things have been hectic. But, anyway, thanks for all the reviews and thanks to Torisurfergirl for betaing.

Playlist:

Distance by Christina Perri ft. Jason Mraz

What If The Storm Ends by Snow Patrol

You Need Me, I Don't Need You by Ed Sheeran

Stay by Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko

Wonderwall cover by Ryan Adams

Love is Blindness by Jack White

I kept my gaze fixed on the blank canvas in front of me from my perch on the stool , one foot hooked around one of the legs, while I pressed the balls of my other foot against the paint-stained cloth-covered floor. I tried to conjure the images that had woken me from sleep, but they evaded me, shrouded in a haze as they swam through my mind. I sighed, raking a hand through my hair in frustration, teetering back and forth on the idea of just going back to bed. I was just about to give in to that desire when I felt two warm hands graze my biceps as they snaked their way around my chest and caged my body. Isa nuzzled the curve of my neck, humming sleepily while her body moved to press flush against my back.

"I woke up and you were gone," she complained lightly, her voice husky and low. I reached back, tangling my fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her shoulder as I leaned my head back against it. Muscles I hadn't even realized had been tensed relaxed, the comfort and familiarity that I received by being in her presence soothing my frazzled nerves.

I had been surprised by how easily it had been for me to adjust to having Isa in my studio. She respected the fact that while I was in here, I was working and spent her time reading or on her Mac, either curled up on the couch or by my feet, her head resting on my thigh. She was for the most part, quiet, sometimes humming or singing quietly along with music connected through her headphones.

She came and went as she pleased, taking over Carlisle's task of making sure I ate and drank regularly. I wasn't always aware of her presence, my mind so completely immersed in my art that everyhing else was out of focus, my mind focusing solely on what was in front of me. She took it all in stride, patient in waiting for me to find my way back to the world.

"I got an idea for a painting, but I can't quite grasp hold of it right now," I explained, distracted by the way her lips caressed the edge of my jaw, sweeping over my rough, stubbled skin.

She hummed lowly, her blunt nails digging lightly into my chest as her tongue dragged along the curve of my ear. "Why don't I be your muse? I'm sure I can think of something that will inspire you," she purred, dragging her fingers down my waist, dipping them into my jeans. I grasped her wrist before she could reach my cock—which had perked up a little in her presence—pulling her hand out, her words having sparked an idea in my mind. I whirled around to face her, trapping her legs between my knees, somewhat amused by the pout she gave me. She was wrapped in the sheet from the bed, fisting it in one hand between her breasts to keep it up, her hair messy and her appearance rumpled. It was obvious that she had literally just rolled out of bed, her eyes not quite fully open yet as she met my gaze.

"I have a better idea," I told her, my fingers dancing over the curve of her hip, to which she responded with a yawn and quirked her brow.

"Better than sex?" she questioned disbelievingly.

I smirked. "You know nothing is as good as sex with you, baby, but I need a muse and since you offered yourself up for the job, I want you to pose for me."

She looked surprised by my suggestion, not having thought for a moment that I suggest having her in front of my easel. Painting her wasn't something that we had previously discussed, and I found myself anticipating the chance to have her posing for me. There was a light, amused laugh in her voice as she responded. "What, like this?"

I could see that she wasn't quite taking me seriously, and I cocked my head to the side, eying her in contemplation. "No," I responded, reaching for the sheet she was holding and tugged it from her grasp, dragging it down to her waist so that her breasts were bared. "Like this."

She seemed to catch onto the fact that I was serious about painting her, her eyes widening. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," I replied, holding her gaze steadily. "Think of it as a step toward me feeling more comfortable with you posting pictures of yourself onto the internet."

She dug her teeth into the flesh of her plump bottom lip, nibbling on it while she thought through my idea. "Where do you want me?" she finally asked, causing me to grin triumphantly.

"Just lying across the couch is fine," I told her. standing to move my easel into the correct position. She did as instructed, letting the sheets tangle between her thighs, giving me teasing glimpses of her creamy, toned legs. She curled her arm beneath her head, resting it on the arm of the couch, and squirmed, shifting her body until she found a comfortable position.

"Are you cold? I can turn up the heating," I told her as I arranged my supplies appropriately, excited to paint such an interesting subject. I could already imagine her as a bright watercolor, splashed across my canvas, no lines holding her in place.

"Maybe a little since you insist on me flashing my tits," she commented, curling her legs and bringing her knees up higher. I was loathe to tear my gaze from her body for even a second as I turned to adjust the temperature before sitting back down on my stool across from her.

"I'm going to do a rough outline of you first in pencil so that you'll have more freedom to move and shift when I start to paint," I informed her. My gaze was calculating as I regarded her body, not as her boyfriend, but as an artist trying to capture her in the essence of her form. I sucked my teeth, my eyes squinting and my brows furrowing before abruptly standing and moving over to her. She followed my movements curiously with her eyes, keeping her position as I rearranged her hair to fall down low over her forehead, skimming across the corner of her eye before being tucked behind her shoulder and out of the way.

Her nipples had started to constrict, swelling into tight buds, and I reached for them, rolling and plucking them lightly until they were completely hard. My actions had caused a light flush to color her skin and her eyelids to droop, and I rushed back to my easel to capture her as she was.

My pencil flew across the page, only giving detail only where it was strictly needed, keeping the outline simple. I had never drawn someone who I knew so intimately, my pencil tracing the lines of her curves that, not but a few hours before had caressed and worshipped with both my mouth and my tongue.

It didn't take me long to complete the outline since held no details, and I sat back, comparing the outline to the live subject, adjusting my drawing until I was satisfied. "You can move around a little more now," I told her distractedly, my focus on arranging my paints and water before me. "I feel as though I should warn you that this may take a couple of hours, so as long as you keep your position you can sleep or I can put some music on, okay?"

I glanced up at her to make sure she had heard me, and she nodded, releasing another yawn before snuggling a little deeper against the couch.

Once everything was organized, I eagerly took up my brush, dabbing certain areas with water first before dipping it into the paint. Isa was a good subject, moving minimally and content to stay silent. It was one of the things I truly loved about our relationship, our ability to sit in comfortable silence without feeling the need to fill it with words. The quiet was never empty between us, instead it was full of silent feelings and emotions that made you feel at ease.

There was a certain intensity in my gaze as my eyes darted back and forth between Isa and my canvas intensely, trying to capture the way the lighting shadowed her body, coaxing her features out from the stark background.

I took my time, my concentration staying firmly on my work, never wavering or faltering in my task. Bursts of color started to emerge, my thoughts and my feelings spilling out before me, twisting and combining with the arch of her neck and the depth of her eyes. This wasn't solely a representation of the Isa that lay before me, but also a slightly abstract representation of how I saw her in my mind's eye.

I sought to bring life and soul to my painting, even to the parts that were obscured and hidden in a wash of bright colors and drips, each one placed with precision. I had always favored a contemporary style for my art, though I dabbled in some abstract art forms, mostly using ink and watercolors with the odd oil pastel here and there.

I was so engrossed, my wrist spiraling and dancing across the canvas, that it took me awhile to notice that Isa had fallen asleep in her pose. Her expression was calm and serene, the shadow of her lashes across her cheeks curling delicately. My lip twitched up slightly in amusement, and I shifted a little closer, my paintbrush balanced between my teeth as I moved the stool beneath me.

I found the movements of my hand, the swift yet gentle rotation of my wrist, both soothing and hypnotizing. I sunk into my mind, the familiar cloud wrapping around me, blocking out everything beyond my canvas. I could see Isa beginning to emerge, the subtle touches of my brush coaxing her into existence, capturing the light flush of her cheeks and the ever present sparkle in her eyes. Her habit of biting her lip had been immortalized, the flash of her pearly whites sinking into the corner of her plump bottom lip forever illustrated on paper.

The sun rose steadily in the horizon, peeking up over the buildings and filling my studio with light. I was orchestrating the finishing touches of the painting when Isa stirred, the harsh glare of the sun hitting her face. She wrinkled her nose and her lips slipped into a pout as her eyes slowly blinked open, squinting. It took a moment for her to wake up and realize where she was and why, her gaze flickering over to me.

"You done?" she questioned, her voice thick with sleep.

I dipped my brush into the small pot of water which had turned a watery grey, swishing it in the water to clean off the paint. "Just about. Nothing I can't do some other time," I told her.

She hummed sleepily, tugging the sheet up her body, covering her shoulder with it as she continued to watch me from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. She rolled her bottom lip back and forth between her teeth, allowing herself the time to wake up properly. I turned my gaze back to my work, sitting back slightly, cocking my head in an effort to see the picture from a different perspective. I've heard it been said that an artist was his own worst critic, and I couldn't help agree with that since I knew that though the picture looked finished, I would add and edit it until I felt that it was the best it could be.

"Edward?" Isa called softly, and I snapped my head in her direction, one hand rubbing the back of my neck where an ache was starting to form from sitting hunched in the same position for so long.

"Hmmm?" I mumbled, raising an eyebrow to show that she had my attention. I couldn't quite decipher her expression; it crossed somewhere between nervous and determined.

"Can we talk about something?" she asked almost timidly.

I sat back, wiping my hands along my jean-clad thighs, smearing paint and water on them "Sure. What's up?"

She released a long, deep breath, her eyes dropping from mine as she twirled her hair around her fingers. "I've been meaning to bring it up for a while now, but I guess I've been too...afraid?"

I nodded when her eyes darted back up to mine briefly, silently encouraging her to continue despite her obvious hesitancy.

"We've come a long way from where we were in the beginning, both in the vanilla and kinky sides of our relationship. We've been growing steadily in all aspects of our dynamic, and I feel that my personality has evolved to the point where I feel secure in the knowledge and strength of your domination and character, and I'm ready for more. I want you to be my Daddy twenty-four seven," she stated, gaining confidence steadily as she laid out her feelings.

I wasn't as surprised as I felt I should have been since her request had come out left field, but I guessed I had been more in tune with Isa than I had consciously been aware of. I had noticed recently that she had become more confident in her role, settling into being little much more easily and freely. She had taken to spending more time little than not, but I had not analyzed her behavior with more than a passing curiosity, taking her newfound comfort to show that she was finding a steady balance within herself over both halves of her personality.

I rubbed my jaw, feeling prick of my scruff against my hand as I worked out how to respond. The silence was heavy between us, and I knew that while her expression gave little away, she was internally freaking out. We were balancing on the tip of a knife, the conversation having the chance of going either way, depending on my answer.

"Okay," I finally murmured, bracing my hands against my thighs. "I guess I kind of saw this coming. With everything that's happened recently, I can understand why you want something more...intense between us, but I'm not sure that right now is the greatest time to embark on a twenty-four seven Daddy/little relationship. For one, I wouldn't feel comfortable taking on that kind of commitment if we weren't living together, and two, we both have some busy months ahead of us. I'm preparing for a showcase, which means I'm not going to be around as much as I have been recently, and I know practice will be picking up soon with orchestra for you. Are you truly prepared for me to actively control every aspect of your life when things are already going to be hectic? It's a huge step with a lot of responsibility tied into it, one that can't be taken lightly, and while I'm not saying no, I'm saying this is something that we need to really think through and be on the same page about before we truly make the commitment."

She pushed herself up until she was sitting with her legs tucked beneath her, the thin sheet clutched against her body as though it would protect her from the vulnerability that was radiating from her. "I know it's a lot, but there's this feeling in my gut—this hunger inside of me that you've continually fed—that cries out for the complete absence of control. I've done my research. I've talked to Kate all about it, and I know what I'm getting into. I know it'll be hard—Kate didn't sugarcoat anything for me—and I know it'll take a lot of work and effort to get us up and running. Please don't think that I would come to you with something like this unless I was really serious. This isn't a whim or just an idea that's popped randomly into my head. I know what I want, and I know you can give that to me. All I've ever wanted for as long as I can remember is the intimacy, affection and assurance you've given me from the start.

"Both my parents had very different ideals concerning how to raise a child. My father was strict, and my mother was more free thinking in her approach, and it created an uneven ground for me. There was no balance between the two, and in the months we've been together, you've strived to create a stable environment with guidelines and rules that supports my needs, one that makes me feel safe and secure. I need more than just being a little now and then. I want to be able to be confident in the little I am, unafraid to become the little I truly want to be. There are countless ways to have a relationship like this, and I want to explore them all with you until we find the one that fits us. I'm willing to give up my apartment and move in with you for this to work. I realize that this may not be the perfect time to start a twenty-four seven D/s relationship, but I don't want to wait for the perfect time because I need it now. I feel like I'm clawing at my insides in an attempt to escape this need. It haunts me, holding me tightly in its grip, and it hurts, keeping it inside, not knowing how to release it."

She was getting visibly upset, and it took everything in me not to rush over and hold her, knowing that we needed to have this conversation no matter how painful it was. My instincts begged me to comfort her, to whisper soothing words in her ear to dispel the tears that were building in the corners of her eyes. Her face was contorted in pain, expressing the weight of her need, and it hurt me to see her like that, my whole body aching with the need to stave off her unhappiness.

I knew I couldn't though. I couldn't allow her to cloud my head and influence the decision that I had to make, the severity of my choice making it difficult for me to find the right answer. I struggled within myself, trying to reconcile all the emotions flaring up inside, while I worked my jaw, flexing it as I mulled over the logistics.

I sighed, dropping my head down to my chest, one hand gripping a handful of my hair. Getting down to the root of my hesitancy, I knew I was less worried about her being ready than I was scared about the ramifications that embarking on the kind of relationship she had just proposed could lead to. The very thought of breaking our relationship beyond repair made my heart clench. If I agreed to her request, we would be living together, immersed in each other's space day and night, and if things didn't work out, I wasn't sure how we would come back from that.

I released a long breath, pressing my elbows into my knees and leaned forward, one foot moving to rest on the wooden rung of the stool as I raised my eyes to meet hers. "I need to know that you're not doing this—giving up your apartment and moving in with me—just for one half of our relationship. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if we jumped right into this without regard for both halves of our relationship. I'm asking you as my girlfriend, the independent, self-sufficient woman I know you can be, if you're ready for this. Does that part of you feel that moving in with me, your boyfriend, is the right thing to do?"

Every word that left my mouth was treated with the utmost care, the tension in the air stifling as we pushed and pulled against each other in a effort to find a happy medium. My emotions were turbulent, spiked with excitement and anticipation, but tampered with worries and uncertainty. Though my words may have seemed to have given voice to the opposite, I wanted the responsibility of having the control she so freely offered to me.

Ever since the night at the club after we'd had dinner with her family, there had been new stirrings inside of me. Where I had once been content to simply partake in her submission when the occasion arose, now resided a craving for more, for complete and unwavering submission. She had unleashed something inside me that was demanding and greedy. It lay close to the surface, mingling with the other aspects of my psyche, seeking out her submission and vulnerability. It wasn't something that could ever truly be tamed or fully tempered, yet just the thought of having the chance to have her constantly yielding to my will soothed it.

I could see that she hadn't been expecting my question, and I was grateful that she didn't answer immediately, instead she took the time to really think it over. I knew that we couldn't move forward in one part of our relationship, yet neglect the other. Our relationship was built on balance, and as soon as the scales tipped too far in one direction everything we'd built would come crashing down around us.

"I love you, you know that," she started. "And if you were anyone else then I wouldn't even contemplate giving up the kind of freedom that I get from living alone, but you're not anyone else, and I know on a deep and visceral level that you're...that you're it for me. Everything stops with you. You're not the last stop on the train, you're the station where the train rests after a long day, where it can find rest and just be without any pretenses or expectations. Being with you gives me more freedom than I have ever experienced. You don't smother me, you make me flourish, and as your girlfriend, I can tell you with complete certainty that I want to wake up every day next to you, to see our toothbrushes together in the cup by the sink. You have no idea how good it feels to come home to someone waiting for me, someone who's interested in hearing about my day, and as fucked up as it sounds, I look forward to the fights we'll have about trivial things like leaving the toilet seat up or screwing the lid back on the toothpaste."

Her declaration caught me slightly off-guard, the amount of emotion in her voice forcing me to really listen to what she was saying. I stared at her silently for a long moment, a feeling of warmth creeping up through my stomach. To see her unwavering faith, without the slightest hint of doubt in her eyes had my insides twisting and clenching in longing for what she had described.

The space between us suddenly seemed too vast, and unable to curb my need any longer, I pushed off the stool and moved toward her. I knelt before her and pressed my forehead into her stomach as my arms wrapped around her waist, a shiver creating a jagged path down my spine in response to the feeling of her. She was warmth and softness, the tug of her fingers as they tangling in my hair soothing, the gesture reminiscent to one that my mother had done for me many times as a child.

I couldn't form words, my tongue thick and heavy in my mouth, the comfort of her touch the ony thing stopping me from shattering right there in her arms. I released a shaky breath and closed my eyes, watching the colors dance behind my closed lids as I swallowed back the emotion bubbling up. I felt overwhelmed, my mind bursting with my recent epiphany, the awe-inspiring moment forever captured and stored in my mind. For the first time, I allowed myself not to imagine it, but to see our future together. It was more than love, the three words not big enough to hold the depth of our feelings, and it settled in my heart, warming me from the inside out.

"Edward," Isa whispered, trailing her hands down from my hair until she was cupping my cheeks and coaxed my head up to look up at her. "Do you think I would ask you to do something if I wasn't fully confident in your ability to do it?"

Her question was so simple, and I accepted the fact that this wasn't something that she would easily back down from. She was confident and ready, prepared to take this step without a glance back. "No, you wouldn't," I admitted.

I sat back on my haunches before raising myself up onto my knees until our faces were level. I cradled her face in my hands, sweeping my thumbs across her cheeks, a sense of calm washing over me. I knew what I had to do and what I had to say, and my qualms evaporated in the face of that truth. "I intended for this to be a lot more romantic when the time came than its going to come out, but will you do me the honor of moving in with me?"

She gave me a cautiously optimistic glance. "You mean..." she trailed off uncertainly, not wanting to assume, but hoping she hadn't mistaken my words or their intent.

"Yes," I agreed, the corners of my lips turning up into a smile, allowing myself to enjoy the moment, the weight of the decision falling from my shoulders. "But this is probationary. I don't want us to jump straight into it only for it not to work out and end up with it affecting all parts of our relationship. I think if we go slow and steady then it'll give us more time to not only acclimate both us to sharing a space as a couple, but to find a balance that works for us as Daddy and little. I don't want us to rush blindly into this. Let's not forget that we've are both still pretty new to this dynamic. I think we should start out easy so we can adjust to the new shift and let it evolve naturally. It's also important to me that we reserve at least one night a week for dates so that we can connect and talk as a couple," I told her seriously.

I had barely finished instructing her on how I wanted things to play out when she flung herself at me, propelling herself off the couch and into my arms, almost knocking me backward. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she chanted in a mantra, peppering kisses all over my face.

A choked laugh escaped her throat, and she pulled back, fanning her hand in front of her face and blinking back tears. "I'm sorry. I'm just so overwhelmed and happy," she explained, dipping her head down as she tried to get a grasp on her emotions.

"Hey," I murmured, taking hold of her chin gently, urging her head up so that I could see her face. I searched her expression, but even glassy I could detect the pure joy and happiness in her eyes, the film of tears making the emotions seem more intense. "I'm happy too," I admitted, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear, my expression soft. "I know I might not have expressed my feelings clearly and seem a bit reluctant, but I want you to know that I do want this as much, if not more, than you."

She gave me a coy grin, her dimples making shallow depressions on the curves of her cheeks, and reached up to palm my cheek lovingly. "I know. You're just being a good Daddy and watching out for me," she replied softly.

I wasn't sure that I could ever get used to her unwavering faith in me, the complete trust in her expression as our gazes locked enough to bring any man to his knees. It was humbling and cathartic, and I began to feel the same overwhelming emotions reflected back at me in Isa's expression. My chest felt both tight and loose as she shifted closer, pressing the length of her body flush against mine so that I could feel each curve and dip of her body against mine.

The hand cupping my cheek drifted down, grazing the thin stubble across my jaw in her journey south. It descended down to my throat, feeling the muscles contract and my adam's apple bob when she lingered. She shifted her hand, curling it, and curled around the back of my neck, closing the distance between us. Her warm breath fanned across my face as she tilted her head to the side, her eyelids drooping low, causing her lashes to cast shadows across her cheeks.

"Are we really doing this?" she whispered, casting her gaze up to meet mine. The question was bred from disbelief rather than insecurity, her mind clearly struggling to come to terms with the fact that she had obtained the one thing her very soul had been crying out for.

A smile curved up along the length of my mouth as a chuckle slipped past my lips. "Yes," I stated simply.

She released a long breath and laughed. She let her eyes flutter shut, her expression content and happy, and pressed her forehead against my own, any lingering tension evaporating from her body. Our noses brushed against each other in a series of eskimo kisses as we came to terms with our new reality. She pulled back slightly, her gaze darting down to my lips, and I held my breath, waiting, anticipating. Instead of kissing me, her upturned lips grazed along my cheek and her nose nuzzled the curve of my ear. My eyes fluttered shut as she doted upon me, laving my skin with attention.

I splayed my hands across the expanse of her waist, the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin cloth of the sheets she was wrapped in. She seemed so small, the tips of my fingers almost able to meet around her waist. The feel of her was soft and delicate in my grip, almost as though if not treated in the correct manner she would shatter and break. I swallowed tightly, letting my hands make a slow caress down her body as they moved smoothly toward her fleshy hips and drifted around her waist to the full, ripe cheeks of her ass. I cradled them in my hands and coaxed her lower half forward, settling back on my haunches as she spread her legs and straddled my lap.

The hand not cupping the back of my neck traced a path over my shoulder before sweeping down across my chest. I watched her, mesmerized by the shape of her plump lips and the freckles on her nose, even the sweep of her dark, thick lashes and the flush of her cheeks held me bound. She was a work of art, better than I could have ever drawn or painted her. The details and shadows on my canvas were bland in comparison to the real thing before me. She was glorious to look upon, the angle of the sun streaming through the window making the sheet almost transparent. Her hair shined, every shift of her body making the messy waves swing lightly, causing the light to shimmer against it.

I grasped her wrist as her hand settled over my heart, wanting her to be able to hear it, to feel the throb of if through my chest and know that it was her doing. Before her, my heart had solely been an instrument to pump blood through my veins, but now she had revived it and it pumped life into me.

Our gazes locked, communicating things that couldn't be formed in words. The intensity of the moment gripped me, yet there was a peace that had settled deep within me, stirring parts of me awake that had lain dormant since I had been a young boy at my mother's chest. With it came a contentment and happiness that I embraced wholeheartedly.

My breaths were shallow as I gently grasped her jaw, unable to curb the need for her lips against mine any longer. She gasped lightly into my mouth as my lips captured hers before it slipped into a soft moan of want. I kissed her hard, feeling her lips give way beneath the force of my own as I coaxed them to move against my own.

Isa relaxed into the kiss, slanting her lips across mine while her hands grasped the sides of my face, pulling me tighter against her as she rose up, her shoulders hunching inward in her attempt to get closer. Though desperate and needy, we didn't rush, taking the time to explore each other's mouths with lips, teeth, and tongues. I fisted the sheet covering her body, my grip tighter than needed as I slowly tugged it from her body until it pooled down in her lap, leaving her upper half naked. We alternated between hard, desperate kisses and soft, needy kisses until our lips were swollen and wet. Isa tore her mouth from mine, her chest heaving as her eyelids fluttered shut, the need to breathe overtaking our passion briefly. Her breaths were unsteady and her nails dug into my neck as I splayed my hands across her back, cradling her against my body.

She rested her head against my shoulder for a long moment, her arms looping around my neck before a light giggle escaped her. Though I didn't know the source of her amusement, a grin turned up at the corners of my lips. I looked down at her, her head still perched on my shoulder as she pressed her face into it, peeking up at me coyly.

"What's so funny?" I questioned.

She shrugged. "I don't know, I'm happy. You make me happy."

She reached a hand up, twining it in my hair and using it as leverage to mold her lips to mine again before I could answer, the warmth of her confession lingering. She smiled into the kiss, her lips curving up against mine as my own reciprocated the movement. I soared, the feeling exhilarating in its simplicity, and we shared it, taking it and making it our own.

"I want to see it," she mumbled against my lips.

My brows furrowed in confusion, and I pulled back to look at her. "See what?" I questioned.

"The painting," she requested shyly.

I hesitated momentarily, suddenly feeling nervous about her reaction to seeing my work. I had shown her some of my other stuff previously, but this painting was an intimate representation of her through my eyes. She would be seeing how I saw her everyday, and I wondered if she would like what she saw.

"Well, its not quite done," I said, stalling.

She shrugged, unperturbed. "I don't mind," she answered.

I released a heavy breath and raked a hand through my hair before shifting our bodies so that I could stand before helping her up off the floor. She took my outstretched hand, wrapping her fingers around mine and stood, bringing the sheet with her. She pulled it up so that it covered her breasts and allowed me to lead her to the canvas.

"Close your eyes," I requested, and though she gave me a bemused glance, she obeyed. I guided her to the stool, letting her get situated on it comfortably before moving to stand behind her. My hand caressed her shoulders as I dipped my head down, letting my mouth hover by her ears. "Open your eyes," I instructed.

I watched with bated breath as her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze fixing on the canvas before her. She was silent, her expression betraying nothing as she stared at my painting.

"Is this how you see me?" she asked just as the silence was becoming too much for me, heavy as it was with tension.

"Yes. I took a little artistic license, I'll admit, but this is how my perspective of you looks."

She swallowed, her fingers twitching in her lap. "It's..." she paused, struggling to find the right words. "Beautiful."

I let out a relieved chuckle. "You are beautiful."

She smiled at that and twisted to look at me. "That wasn't what I meant. I mean you captured me in a way that conveys my personality and emotions. It's like you took a piece of my soul and drew it. That's what I find beautiful."

"I paint what I see, and when I look at you, I see your heart and I see your soul. It's in your eyes and your smile. It's in the way you bite your lip and the furrow your brow. It's in everything you do, and I know most people don't take the time to look, but I see it everyday, Isa," I told her.

"And I see yours. Even when you tried to hide it, I could see it simmering beneath the surface."

I looked away, feeling almost embarrassed, though I wasn't sure why. Isa had a knack for being able to worm her way deep inside of me and expose the parts of me that I tended to keep hidden. It made me feel self-conscious, but she always brought me back, grounding me in the way I needed. This time, she cupped my cheek, directing it toward her as she leaned up and kissed me, coaxing my lips to move until they acquiesced.

I knew the weeks ahead of us were going to be tough, there was no escaping the fact that we would both have to make big adjustments while also maintaining a balance between our home and outside lives. The added strain of work was not going to make the situation any easier, but I was beginning to feel confident that we would make it through. There was no future ahead of me that didn't include Isa, and it was with that, that I allowed myself to start forming a concrete plan.

Side note: I've written an outtake from Isa's point of view which is posted as a separate story on my profile. So, head on over if you want to know a little of what's going through her mind

AN: There we go. Leave me some love!

Q and A time!

Q: She would tell him if he did something she didn't want or like, wouldn't she?

A: Of course. Though she has been somewhat compliant to Edward's demands and instruction, it's only because they are within her own limits. That is why checklists are very important. If he ever stepped over the line, she would use her safeword.

Q: Will she get punished for pushing his buttons, or will that be it?

A: Nah, I think they both needed to relieve a bit of tension after the family dinner. So, while Edward might have later reprimanded her, there won't a punishment for that.

Q: Even if u not longer have a set schedule Please let me know that u plan on continuing with writing this story.

A: Of course! I'm just slowing down a bit since I will be starting a new job and working my butt off to get my life sorted. I'm still writing, but this way it gives me the room not to freak out about being behind on posting.

Q: Liam seems like a nice guy, is he gonna be a more permanent picture in this fic?

A: Sure. He'll be popping up here and there as the story continues.

Q: Will Laim or any of Edward's other friends going to find out about their Daddy/little relationship?.

A: Yes...no...maybe...probably *Shrugs*

Q: We saw a little of Emmett (really only a line) but when will we get more of him?

A: In a chapter or two.

Q: So the club/alley scene...was that just Edward and Bella right (boyfriend and girlfriend)? I know they are trying to incorporate their DD/lg lifestyle into everyday life. It was more spur of the moment kind of thing but it felt like he was more Edward than Daddy Edward...

A: Very good question. In chapter seventeen, they discussed how he can be more than one of his personas at once. So, yes, he was partly Edward, but with some Dom and Daddy mixed into it.

Q: The primal reaction from Edward in response to Isa's game of cat and mouse was a bit darker than you have let him be previously. Will this become more common in their relationship? Will he be able to control it?

A: Yes, this part of Edward will rear its head more often now that he has unleashed it. He can control it as long as he is consciously aware of its presence. Plus, he would never willing hurt Isa or make her doubt herself or her place, thus creating boundaries in his mind that he won't cross.

Q: Will their intense sexual encounter against the rough brick wall, leaving scratches and bruised areas, cause him to second guess his ability to care for his precious little girl?

A: This is kind of a hard question for me to answer, but I mentioned his reaction in the Outtake posted on my profile. Isa persuaded him that it was what she wanted, bruises and all, and after a while he gave into the fact that he couldn't quite regret their little romp. He did become a little overprotective for a few days afterward until the bruises faded.

Q: Will Liam become a confidant in Edward's struggle with life and balancing his career and relationship?

A: That is my plan. It might seem weird placing an ex-priest and a sexual deviant together, but it works in my head.