I slide my aching fingers from the keys, and allow the last note reverberate through the room. That was always his favorite part of this song—the absence of sound once it comes to an end, and how it fills you with emptiness when you realize that the music is gone. Alec always had the most wonderful way of describing music. I wish that I would have told him that. I wish I would have told him so many things.
I push the thought away, as the pain in my hand sharpens, and I rub the small misshapen lump of cartilage on my knuckle. I shouldn't have played so much; it's been far too long and my hand is out of shape. Typing on a computer keyboard isn't nearly the work out of Beethoven's Der Sturm, butI couldn't resist playing it. It reminds me of Leah's temperament. Sometimes, she makes me feel like I'm out to sea in the middle of a raging storm; at the mercy of the ferocious, untamed majesty of nature. Terrifying, yet also magnificent.
Warm hands slide up my calves and along my inner thighs, making my dick hard. My current state of nudity prevents me from hiding my enthusiasm. I suppose that is my own fault for insisting we stay naked for the rest of the day, or at least until I surprise Leah with my plans for our evening. I scoot the bench back, allowing Leah to emerge from under the piano, and kneel in front of me.
"You stopped playing?" She says, gazing up at me, and carefully rolls the head of my dick between her thumb and forefinger.
"It's the only way I could get your attention," I lie, wrapping a stray clump of her hair around my aching hand, and pull her face closer to mine. "Why are you under there, anyway?"
"I saw it in a movie once, and thought I'd try it out," she sighs, fighting my pull, and looks down at my dick like she is admiring its beauty.
"How was it?" I run my thumb over her bottom lip and her tongue darts out. When it touches my skin, the feeling is electric.
"Like an orgasm set to music," she whispers, her lips brushing my thumb as she wraps my dick in a tight grip. "You should try it."
"Well, I guess I'll have to teach you to play so I can," I gasp, feeling dizzy, and struggle to not close my eyes.
Leah looks like a wild thing, her teeth surrounding my thumb, and her hand pumping my dick at a vicious pace. My hips are aching to move, my spine is starting to bow from the effort to stay seated. She has me, as she always does. I'm a mess of throbbing need for her every second of the day, all the time. Sometimes, I wonder if she even realizes it. There are times, though, when I see a look in her eyes, like she really sees me, and I think that she might just understand.
"Or you could give me an encore performance," she says, pushing the bench back even further to give her enough room to stand up, and closes the lid to the piano.
Taking her cue, I grab her by the waist, and lift her up onto the keyboard. I sit back down, and she frowns in confusion. Her disappointment transforms to delight when I bury my head between her legs and taste her. I gently lap at her pussy, relishing her familiar flavors—our taste. She's still wet from our last session, up against the wall of the entryway, after Angela left.
The memory is so fresh, and I can almost hear her moaning. Leah clawed at my back and cried out my name when I came inside her.
Her fingers are tangled in my hair, pulling me deeper into her body, and I'm so hard it hurts.
"Get down here," I gasp, leaning back, and pull her onto my lap.
Leah laughs, practically tumbling into my lap. Her hair covers us like a thick blanket, blocking out everything but her beautiful smile. She shifts above me, her hand on my dick, and with a soft grunt of satisfaction she sinks down over me. I grip the bench beneath me with one hand, using the other to hold her hip while she rides me. She tilts her head, arching her back, allowing me to sink even deeper inside.
The yellow-gold rays of the afternoon sun are framing her naked body. She is so captivating and entrancing, spread out before me like this. I simply cannot look away, even though the pleasure she sends through my body nearly overwhelm me. Leah is so strong; the sight and smell of her is breathtaking. She leans back toward me, pressing her lips against mine, and whispers my name.
Nothing in my life has ever felt so right. It seems strange that my feelings could already be this intense, especially since we've only been seeing each other for a little over a month, but I've known Leah for so much longer. I realize that I have always wanted her like this. As crazy as it sounds, somewhere, deep inside, I've always felt that we were meant to be together. When I'm here in this moment, with her in my arms, I can't deny it, and I don't want to try.
"Shit," she gasps, her body starting to tremble.
I know she must be close, so I move my hand between her legs, and rub her clit with my thumb. Her mouth opens while her body closes around me. The feel of her coming sets me off. I grab her shoulders, pulling her down on me, and come deep inside her with a grunt. She cries out, and spasms around me once again.
"You felt me come, didn't you?" I ask, unable to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.
"Yes," she moans, shuddering and pressing her face into my neck.
I kiss her hair, but Leah pulls away and disappears into the downstairs bathroom. She returns with a damp cloth and carefully cleans both of us up. I'm patient, waiting until she finishes before tossing the cloth aside, and then pick her up in my arms.
"Hey, I wasn't finished," Leah laughs, making a show of pouting.
I play my part, ignoring her weak protest while I carry her over to a pile of blankets on the floor. I laid it out after she complained that our bout of "wall sex" gave her a backache. As soon as Leah leans back into the thick comforter, she grabs a pillow and slams it into my face. I quickly yank it from her hand, and press it over her face to muffle her screams of protest. She loves to pick a fight, even when we're having fun. I briefly let her have her way, and then I end it. All it takes is my fingers slowly circling her slick clit to turn her screams of anger into cries of pleasure. I wait until she is gasping and writhing before lower my mouth to suck on her hard clit. Leah raises her hips, and I slip my fingers into her. I smile to myself while my fingers curl inside her, brushing her g-spot, and I lap at her clit with my tongue. In a matter of seconds, Leah is coming so hard that she is screaming while she beats the floor with her fists.
"Fuck, Edward! I need a break or I'm going to break a hip," she gasps, laughing and panting.
"Wimp," I reply, joining in her laughter, even as she weakly swats at me.
I collapse onto the blanket next to her, and bat her hand away so I can kiss her flushed cheek. She is so beautiful, even when she is covered in sweat and swearing at me like this. How I could have ever thought that my feelings for her were passing fancy is beyond me. Now that I have her, I can't imagine letting her go.
I watch her stretch out on blanket next to me, and I'm can't understand what Emmett was thinking when he broke up with Leah. He told me once that she wasn't the kind of girl to fuck around with, but then he went and did exactly that.
When Emmett told me that he wasn't seeing her anymore, I was shocked—I was sure that he would be telling me that they were engaged any day. Instead, he told me that things had changed between them a long time ago, and since he met someone new, he and Leah decided to be just friends. To this day, I don't understand how Leah could be friends with Rose.
I push the thought away, and allow myself to enjoy the feel of Leah's body curled up against my side. She whispers softly against my skin, pressing her lips against my neck and slides her hand along my cheek.
"You know how beautiful you are when you're being a smug fucker, don't you?" She sinks her teeth into my chin.
I groan in mixture of pain and desire, and roll her onto her back. She smiles up at me, and I suddenly feel my chest swell with...love. Emmett was right—Leah isn't the kind of girl you fuck around with; she's the kind of girl that you hold onto forever.
Shit! Piss! Fuck! Cunt! Cocksucker! Motherfucker! TITS!
Every thing was going so good; we were naked and fucking like rabbits on the living room floor. Then Edward just had to go and fuck it up. I chew my lip, readjusting the thick towel wrapped around me. This is ridiculous! I'm a grown woman. I shouldn't be freaking out this bad. I need to get the fuck over this irrational bullshit and deal with it. It's just a fucking dress.
I stare down at the black garment bag laid out across the maroon bedspread. I've been fighting back my panic ever since I got out of the shower and saw it sitting there, waiting for me. It is big and looks expensive, as much as a black fabric garment bag can look expensive. My hands itch to open it and take a peek at the dress inside, but my brain it telling me that I'm not ready to look at it yet.
I decide to open the ornately decorated shoebox instead. I flick the lid off, half expecting a snake to jump out to kill me. Not really, but after I take in the sight of the slender pumps that had to cost a small fortune. I kind of wish they were a snake. I can't do more than roll my eyes at the Victoria's Secret bag. The last item on the bed is a small, turquoise blue bag with Tiffany & Co. printed in stark black letters on the side. I turn my back to the scene, feeling queasy and panicky. What the fuck was Edward thinking?
"Dinner is at seven," his voice cheerily calls up to me through the half open door.
"I'm not going!" I yell back, feeling like a kid having a tantrum.
"You lost. You are going," he counters, without a hint of humor in his tone.
Jerk!
"That's not fair! It's Angela's fault that I made noise!"
Okay, now I really sound like a fucking child.
"Leah, you're going if I have to drag you to dinner in a fucking towel," Edward replies, and I hear something slam downstairs.
"Fuck!" I mutter, finally unzip the garment bag and yank out the dress to look at it.
My jaw drops a little as I realize what it looks like, and feel myself crumble. The neckline isn't exactly the same, but the cut is similar enough. The hem brushes the floor, and I immediately lift it up. I was ten years old when I first watched Breakfast at Tiffany's with my mother. It was her favorite movie, and when I was a little girl there was no one I wanted to be more like than Holly Golightly.
I have no idea how Edward figured that out, because I don't think I've ever even mentioned the movie to him. When he laid out this stuff for tonight, he'd simply said: "I picked up an outfit for you. I hope it fits."
Leave it to that smooth motherfucker to find the perfect dress. His fashion sense is so uncanny, sometimes it's really hard to believe he's straight. I drop the towel, grab the hideous pink Victoria's Secret bag, and dump the contents onto the bed. Judging by what the bag contains, Edward is definitely straight. For a few seconds, I contemplate walking downstairs in the skimpy, see-through lace lingerie. It would serve him right for making me go to some fancy dinner.
In the end, I finally decide that I'll at least try on the dress. I can still leave it and go naked if he really pisses me off. It takes a little bit of struggling, but I finally slide on the dress and manage to get it zipped. I hesitate for a second, though I'm not sure why, and turn around to look in the full-length mirror.
I can't breathe.
The doorbell rings a little earlier than I had anticipated, but it shouldn't disrupt our plans too much. I open the door to the caterer and direct them through the house. They are quick, efficient, and disappear after I sign the receipt.
A few minutes after they depart Leah appears at the top of the staircase, looking like a vision in black. Her hair is swept up into an elaborate twist, with a few tendrils of hair left loose to frame her face. The pearl necklace and matching earrings shimmer against her dark skin. Simple, yet elegant; this is Leah to a tee.
"Who was that?" She says while fidgeting with the elbow length gloves and walking the rest of the way down the stairs.
"Who?" I can't stop staring at the way the fabric slides over her body as she moves, emphasizing her slim waist, and making her look even taller than normal.
She stops at the bottom of the stairs, continuing to fuss with her clothes, and tentatively touches her hair. Finally, she catches me watching her, and stares at me in confusion.
"Edward," she groans, placing her hand beneath my chin, and gently pushes my mouth closed. "You'd think you've never seen me in a dress before."
"I'm just shocked to see you smiling while wearing one," I attempt to cover my shock with a smirk, and run my palm along her waist.
"Shut up," she mumbles, turning her head to the side, but allowing me to kiss her cheek.
"You're so captivating," I sigh, leaning back to take in the sight of her again.
The corner of her mouth turns up as the color of her cheeks darkens, and she ducks her head down for a second.
"Stop staring." It's a whisper. She's wringing her hands and takes a deep breath.
"Stop being beautiful," I counter, putting my hand under her chin.
I slowly lift her face so she will look at me, and gently brush a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. It doesn't seem right for Leah to look this...unsure. Her teeth slide out over her bottom lip, the small movement and the shy expression on her face sends a shot of electricity through me.
Leah Clearwater is blushing like a young girl. Her eyes are glistening and her lips are slightly parted. She looks a little unsteady, and maybe even a little scared. I want to throw her down on the stairs, rip open her dress, and make her blush like this all over.
"Are you ready?" My hand trembles as I step back from her and offer her my arm.
"Uh...sure," Leah replies, sounding a little confused, and slides her arm around mine.
I promptly turn her around, enjoying the look of confusion on her face, as I lead her out toward the balcony. She looks shocked when I pull open the glass door, and gesture for her to step out.
"I thought we were going out for dinner," she says, walking through the doorway and steps out onto the deck.
"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd hold out and try to wear a towel, so I thought I'd play it safe," I reply. I close the door behind me and walk over to join her.
"Whoa," Leah whispers taking in the table and two towering lamp heaters. "It's warm out here."
"I figured the heaters would keep it at a comfortable temperature, but still allow us to enjoy the outdoors," I say, pulling her chair out for her and motion for her to sit down.
"Did you cook this?" She stares at the spread of steaming dishes as she takes her seat.
"No. I ordered out," I answer, lifting the silver dome off her plate to reveal her lobster and filet mignon.
"Of course," she mumbles, grabbing her napkin. I watch her struggle to untie it from its intricate swan shape.
"Here, let me," I say, taking it from her. I manage to unfold it easily. "There."
She takes the napkin from me and lays it across her lap without a word. As I take my own seat, I watch her start to fuss with her fork. While I'm intrigued by her sudden shyness, it's also a little unsettling. It isn't like her to be this skittish. Suddenly, it slips from her fingers and clatters against the edge of her plate. As the heavy fork hits the plate, a small piece of the porcelain chips off and falls onto the tablecloth.
"Shit!" She nearly jumps out of her chair, and looks so nervous.
"Relax, it's just a plate," I try to reassure her, leaning over to grab her gloved hand.
"I'm no good at this," she sighs heavily, moving her hand away, and pulling off the gloves with short, angry jerks.
"What do you mean?" I ask, capturing her face between my hands and force her to look at me.
"This," she gestures at herself, and then wildly around us. "All of this...glamour and shit."
Leah thinks the beach house is glamorous? Sure, it's nice, but it's nothing compared to the summer house in the Hamptons or the chateau in Normandy. While I find her observation funny, I'm not exactly sure why Leah looks so freaked out and frightened. I have to fight like hell to keep from laughing. It hurts me, but I manage to hold it in.
The memory of the night I spent on the reservation suddenly pops into my head. When I was playing Quarters with Seth, he explained that the tiny, two-bedroom trailer that he lived in was their childhood home. Seth explained a lot of things about Quileute pride, and specifically their father's opinions on people of privilege. People like...me.
"Dad always says that if you don't earn something, you aren't capable of truly appreciating it. I don't know if I agree with him, but I can tell you that Leah believes it. I'm sure you've seen how she is about getting gifts. Trust me, she used to be worse. After Mom died, she refused to celebrate her birthday for two years, until Dad finally put his foot down."
"Leah," I whisper, pressing my hand against my forehead while I try to figure out how to calm her down.
"No, Edward," she groans, and tosses the gloves onto the table. "I appreciate how you're trying to wine and dine me with the dress and all, but-"
"Wait!" I cut her off. I don't have time to be diplomatic. "First, I didn't buy you the dress. It's a gift from Esme and Alice. They want you to go to the hospital charity ball, but didn't want you to back out by claiming you have nothing to wear. I gave it to you mostly to piss off Alice by ruining her surprise."
That's mostly the truth. I also gave her the dress because I wanted her to wear it for this dinner, for me. At the time it had seemed like a good idea, but nothing ever works the way I think it should, at least not with Leah. She stares at me, looking a little shocked, but at least the anger is gone. So I continue, hoping to use her silence to my advantage.
"Do you know where I was originally planning to take you this weekend?" I lean back in my chair and fold my arms over my chest.
"The Bahamas," she mumbles, a look of disgust on her face.
"No! I was just teasing you with that," I say, allowing a small chuckle of annoyance to slip out before I continue. "I was going to take you to my cabin in Canada. It's as far removed from Whistler or any other resort up there as you can get. It doesn't even have electricity."
I smile, remembering how Demetri called me insane when I bought it, after I got hired at Volt. He doesn't understand what it meant to me, to own something of my own, even if it was just a broken down park ranger's cabin filled with raccoons. I bought it with my own money, without any help from Carlisle or Esme. I wanted to take Leah there, to show her all the work I've done to remodel it. Show her something that means a lot me. If only she had a passport, we would be huddling for warmth by the wood stove and not having this ridiculous argument.
Leah sighs, shifting in her chair like she is still trying to find a way to argue with me. I cut her off, putting up my hand.
"I promise no more extravagance," I concede, struggling to not roll my eyes as I say it. "If you agree to relax and try to fucking enjoy yourself."
Leah sits in silence, her breath coming in short huffs of frustration, but at least she is not trying to run away. I try to remain patient, while she continues to sit there, saying nothing. Finally, when I'm about to throw the whole meal in the trash and order a pizza, she shocks the hell out of me by opening her mouth.
"Okay," she says it so quickly that I'm not sure it actually happened, except that I see her picking up her fork once again.
I can still see the tension in her shoulders, but she is stabbing at her lobster. It's a step, a small one, but at least it is something. With Leah, something like this is a fucking milestone. I smile to myself, and pick up my own fork.
"Good. Now, eat up! There are six more courses and I don't want them to get cold," I say, grabbing my knife and begin cutting into my steak.
"What?" She blinks for a second.
"I'm kidding," I laugh, while Leah mumbles something about my mother and an outhouse.
Despite her insult, I see her mouth turn up at the corners as she takes a bite of lobster. I watch her eyes close, and a look of pure rapture flows over her features. I know that all of our struggling and fighting is worth it to see her look so content. After all, it won't always be this hard.
"Shit, shit, SHIT!" I run into the bathroom, and practically tear off the dress.
My heel catches on the bottom of the skirt, and I nearly flatten myself out on the floor. After a short struggle, I manage to get the dress off, and carefully lay it out on the marble vanity. The smear of cream is already beginning to soak into the satin of the dress. I grab a hand towel, dampen a corner, and begin to gently blot the stain. I don't even want to think about how much money Esme and Alice spent on this dress.
This is just perfect, great way to end the night, Clearwater. I sigh, and carefully move the towel to a clean side to blot at the stain again. I keep dabbing at the stain, and it finally starts to disappear. My hands are shaking and my heart is pounding. I feel like a complete idiot. I've tried to do my part, to stay calm and enjoy tonight, like I promised Edward I would, but this is just another reminder of how fucking out of place I am here.
I should have known something was going to go wrong once I finally relaxed. I had finished my crème brûlée. I was commenting on how good it was when Edward reached across the table to offer me his spoon. I leaned forward to take it in my mouth, trying to be all seductive, and got a little too enthusiastic with my tongue. A little bit slipped from my mouth and dropped onto the dress, leaving a fucking snail trail that looked like a come stain.
I take a deep breath before I look at the dress, and let out a sigh of relief when I see nothing but damp, clean fabric in front of me. I blot it with the dry part of the towel, one last time before hanging it up over the top of shower wall.
"It's going to be alright," I whisper, not sure if I'm talking about the dress or myself.
"Were you able to salvage it?" Edward's voice draws my attention to the doorway.
He looks like something out of a fancy cologne commercial as he casually leans against the doorframe with two glasses of champagne in his hands. Unfortunately for him, that dopey look of shock that he had on his face earlier is back again. It's ruining the whole smooth operator thing he has going on—hard to look suave with your mouth hanging open like a wide-mouthed bass.
"What?" I look down at myself, and realize that I'm standing in my underwear. I'm wearing matched set of lacy, barely-there panties, a bra, a garter belt, and stockings. I suppose I look like something out of a racy Maxim photo shoot, except that my boobs are microscopic compared to most the girls they feature on the cover.
"I see everything fits," he says with an approving smirk, and recovers his dignity while taking a sip of his champagne
"Yes, I guess it does," I agree. Smoothing my hands over my hips, I pluck at one of the garters, letting it snap back against my skin.
It makes a loud cracking sound as it hits, and I gasp at the sharp sting. Edward's eyes widen and his nostril's flair in response. Sometimes, he is just too easy. I like this outfit; it feels more comfortable than the dress. It would be even better if I was naked. Edward is still staring, and I notice his pants look a little tighter in the front. Excellent.
I turn my actions into a production as I walk over to take a glass from his hand. "I'm so thirsty," I complain as I run my hand seductively over my throat.
I swivel on my heel, turning my back to him. I innocently take a sip and arch my back slightly, causing my ass to stick out. He makes a hilarious grunting sound, and steps forward to press his body along my back. I sigh, loving the feel of his suit against my barely covered skin. He chuckles softly, and sets down his glass on the counter in front of us. His hand is cool from holding the champagne, making me shiver as his fingers slide over my shoulder and up my neck.
I watch him in the mirror while I sip my champagne, and wonder what he plans to do. He breathes across the skin as his fingers slide into my hair. I love the look of concentration on his face as he gently pulls out every single bobby pin that I used to put up my hair. Edward takes his time, setting each thin black pin on the counter next to his glass. Piece by piece, my hair tumbles free, draping across my naked skin, releasing little bits of tension and stress from me as it falls. Edward combs his fingers through my hair, checking for any remaining pins. When he's satisfied that they are gone, he presses his lips against my earlobe.
"Better?" He asks in a husky tone, and places his hands over my hips, pressing his body against mine.
"Yes," I sigh, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I've been holding.
I don't know why this is easier, but it is. I'm glad that Edward promised to ditch all the silly romantic shit. We should be fucking, not having fancy dinners, or dressing up, or any of that shit. I'm not good at that.
"I… have something for you," his voice sounds different, hesitant.
"Edward, you said no more–!" I shake my head, trying to turn around, but he stops me with a strong hand on my shoulder.
"I know, but this is different," he insists, and raises his other hand in front of me.
A long, thin gold chain dangles from Edward's extended finger. I follow the trail of interlocking links to the small heart-shaped ruby, and my heart stops. It's a perfect replica of my mother's necklace.
"Try it on," he whispers, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
He looks so different than he did even an hour ago, when he was insisting that I 'fucking enjoy myself.' That was the Edward I know, the confident, cocky asshole. This Edward looks like a scared boy. He looks like he did at the funeral, and it's killing me. I unfasten the pearl necklace I'm presently wearing and set it down on the counter. Edward smiles in triumph.
"I tried to get it as close to the original as possible, but I was working from memory. I swear, I drove the jeweler nuts by insisting on watching him cut the ruby. " He rambles, as he tries to open the small clasp.
"It's perfect," I sigh, smoothing my hands over his, trying to stop his shaking.
He smiles at me nervously. I can see little beads of sweat on his upper lip. He finally opens the clasp, and I nearly cry with relief. I pull my hair back, and hold it out of the way as he fastens the necklace.
"There," he sighs, his cool hands run along my collarbone as he gently lets the feather-light chain lie against my skin. He pulls his hands away, but the necklace makes it feel like he is still touching me. I let my hair fall, and look at myself in the mirror. A shiver runs through me as I stare at my reflection. I look like my mother.
"Do you like it?" Edward's voice is soft, but I can feel his expectations weigh down on me.
I pull my eyes away from my reflection, staring down at the bright red jewel resting against my skin. Despite its light weight, I can feel a cool spot where it touches me. Edward is watching me, I can feel it, but I have no clue what to say. How do I tell him that the heart-shaped jewel that he worked so hard to replicate was just a piece of glass?
"It's lovely, but-" I argue, shaking my head, but he gives me a look that makes me stop.
"I want to give you something..." he pauses, and looks down for a second, as if he is searching for the right word, before raising his eyes once again. "I want you to know how special you are...to me."
He sounds so vulnerable. I can feel his breath against my skin, but I can't bring myself to speak. The thought of hurting him, of telling him the truth about this necklace, is crippling. I can't possibly do that to him, so I just nod.
"Okay," I tell him, and it comes out in a choked whisper. I stare at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. I'm still having a hard time catching my breath, and my chest feels like it's caving in on itself.
"Thank you," his relief lightens the air in the room, but I still feel the necklace pulling me down. His gaze is burning me, but I'm too scared to look up at him. It's too much—the necklace, the sound of his voice. It feels like any minute I'm going to crack under the pressure of it all.
"Look at me," he sighs, tugging at my chin with his thumb and fore finger, forcing me to look at him.
Edward smiles at me, looking so calm and serene that my panic suddenly feels ridiculous. His hands slide along the sides of my face, but he doesn't speak. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out except air. His face is so close to mine that he is all I can see and smell. It feels like my heart is about to explode, and my throat is closing up. I can't feel my legs.
"I love you," he says in a hushed whisper against my lips.
I don't know what to say, not that it matters. Before I can do more than blink, Edward kisses me. Suddenly, everything else is gone, as though the earth has fallen away from beneath my feet. I cling to him, my nails digging into the soft fabric of suit. He breaks free, gasping for breath, but I immediately pull him back, and continue kissing him, afraid of what will happen if I let go.
He laughs against my lips and lifts me up. I can hear the sounds of smashing glass, but I refuse to turn my head. He sets me down on the cool surface of the counter, and I press my face against the safety of his collar. The significance of what he said, combined with the necklace on my skin, makes me dizzy. My eyes are sore, and my mouth is dry.
His hand is on my chin, lifting my face, and I find the courage to open my eyes. Edward has that same smile on his face, unaware that I'm fucking drowning. I manage to open my mouth, and try to speak again.
"I want you. Now," I plead, sounding more desperate than I intended, but I don't care.
Edward growls, and starts to kiss me again. I immediately work to unzip his pants, while he grabs hold of the front of my underwear. He mumbles an apology against my lips, and tugs. I feel the pull, hear the ripping, and I realize that I'm bare.
Edward gasps as I pull his dick free, and immediately press him against my wet pussy. I want this so bad, I'm ready to scream. He slides his hands under my thighs, pulling me closer, and we both gasp as he sinks into me.
The only thing I'm aware of is the feel of him inside me. I hold onto his shoulders while he moves us across the smooth surface of the counter. My body trembles with pleasure and my mind screams. Edward just watches me with that beautiful fucking smile. I gasp, riding the waves of delight that are burning through every part of me. I moan his name while tears slip from the corners of my eyes. He shifts his body while blinding me with his brilliant smile, and my body explodes just as he sinks deeper. I can't escape this overwhelming sensation. No matter how hard I try not to, I'm feel myself falling.
"Wait for me," he gasps. He quickens his pace, slamming into me, and all I can see is stars.
"I'll try," I groan through gritted teeth, and tense up my body, trying in vain to hold it off.
Each movement builds on top of the other, weighing me down. I struggle to breathe.
"Leah," Edward's panting; his frantic movements heighten my pleasure.
"Mm," I try to respond, but I can't focus. It's taking everything I have to fight off my climax.
"Now," he whispers against my ear.
I sink my nails into his back, as my orgasm shatters over me, and I cry out in relief.
My hands are shaking, and I can't make them stop. I shove them deep into my pockets, to cover my fear, and continue to walk down the long, narrow hallway. Someone runs past me, crying.
"Dad!" Seth screams, and throws himself into my father's arms.
I hurry over to them, thankful to see a familiar face, but they don't seem to see me. My father is too busy comforting Seth, while Auntie Ruth talks to him.
"Take care of him, Harrison," she commands my father with a wave of her hand, and then looks at me. "Come child."
A shiver runs through me, and I turn away, confused. I somehow understand all this; it's familiar in a way that shakes me to the bone. I'm in the hospital where we spent so many, too many, days crying, worrying, and, eventually, grieving. Terror grips me at the sight of the all too familiar door. The plastic nameplate displaying the numbers 208. I hate that number.
"No!" I shake my head, and start to back away from the door.
"Get a hold of yourself, girl!" Auntie Ruth's sharp nails dig into my arms, making me flinch, as she pulls me around to see her scowling face.
"I don't want to go," I plead with her, but she just shakes her head.
"This is the business of dying. Happens to everyone, even the ones we love," she croaks, walking me toward the door, " best get used to it, or learn to stop caring."
"I'm not a little girl, you fucking harpy!" I yank my arm out of her grip, swiveling to face her, but she's gone. The hallway is empty, and I can feel something pull at the center of my chest. I know it's the door behind me. 208 is opening, and I can't stop myself as I turn to look inside.
My eyes can't seem to focus on the bed, but I'm kind glad; I'm not ready to see it. I turn to look around the room and immediately see a familiar head of neatly combed brown hair. The navy blue of his uniform shirt is like a welcoming beacon of hope. I can't stop myself from calling out.
"Uncle Charlie!" I scream, but my voice sounds childish.
He turns in his chair, arms open to catch me as I run into his waiting arms.
"Leah, you get taller every time I see you," he laughs and smiles at me, but I see a few tears slip from the corners of his eyes.
"That's silly, you just saw me yesterday," I tell him in an exasperated tone, while I shake my head and roll my eyes.
I want to ask him why he is crying, but the words don't come out.
"Of course, how silly of me!" He looks over my shoulder, at the bed, and somehow know that is why he is crying.
The grief is in his eyes, even as he smiles. Suddenly, my terror is back, tenfold. I know that I'm supposed to leave his arms now. That I should be standing to approach the bed, but I hesitate for a moment, trying to gather my courage.
"Hey, beautiful," the voice is familiar, but out of place in this memory.
A new horrifying fear grips me, as I stand and turn to look at the withered figure on the bed. His veins are like dark roots under his papery, thin skin. It's stretched tightly over his boney arms. The features of his face are shadowed and sunken, but still recognizable. Of course, I would know him anywhere.
"Edward," I choke back a sob, and run to his side.
"Leah," he whispers my name, and reaches out his frail hand toward my face.
"No! No! NO!" I repeat it over and over, wishing this was some kind of a trick. "This is wrong. Not you. I can't..."
His fingers hover, a fraction of an inch from my cheek, but don't touch me. I can feel the pulling sensation in my chest, drawing me down to close the distance so I can feel his cool fingertips press against my skin. It's like the answer to a prayer, and a slap in the face, at the same time. This is Edward, and he is dying.
"Leah, please wa-" he chokes, and is thrown back against the bed.
Thick, black, rope-like tendrils coil around his body, tightening and constricting as they move. They're everywhere with a terrifying speed and quickly start to cover his face. I frantically pull on them, trying in vain to free him, but they're as hard as living stone beneath my hands.
"How long do you think you can run, little wolf?" Her croak is unmistakable.
"NO!" I scream in Auntie Ruth's face, but she only laughs at me.
She stares at me with black, pupil-less eyes, and her mouth is filled with jagged, needle-like teeth. It is her long black hair forming the tendrils that are constricting around Edward, and they continue to writhe around his body. I fight against their strangling hold, clawing uselessly, even as my nails split and bleed. Suddenly, a loud cracking sound erupts around me, like glass smashing against stone. As her laughter echoes, the black, wiry snake-hair withdraws. Edward's body lies shattered like jagged pieces of crystal as a fine cloud of dust fills the air.
"You were born Quileute, and you'll die Quileute!" Her icy voice hisses through the glittering air and I continue to scream, enraged.
I'm still screaming when I realize that I'm not in the hospital anymore. When my eyes fly open, the wall in front of me is tinted an angry shade of red, and panic seizes me again. I feel someone pressing against my side, and I flinch away.
"Leah!" Edward's voice startles me, and pushes back the haze of the dream.
His hands are on my face, turning my head, and I see dawn breaking outside the window. The new rays of the sun are painting the entire room in shades of red and orange. Relief fills me as I finally see Edward's beautiful face, but his expression of distress twists inside my chest. I reach out to touch his face, bathing in the comfort of feeling him-solid, whole, and here.
"You were screaming," he speaks in shaky voice, and pulls me down to press his forehead against mine. "It was...I can't stand to hear you upset like that."
"It was just a dream," I reply, tears slip from the corners of my eyes.
The emotions from the dream must still be messing with my head. I can't seem to catch my breath. I can't bring myself to let go of Edward. I close my eyes and try to find my bearings, but the only thing that seems to help his the feel of his skin against mine. Edward gently caresses my cheeks with his fingers, wiping the tears away, and kisses my nose.
"I'm here," he whispers against my lips, the feel of his mouth over mine suddenly feels as essential as air.
I grab the back of his neck, pulling him down, and I open my mouth to him. Edward responds immediately, his tongue snaking out to meet mine. His hands grab at my hair as his body moves over mine. I need this, to chase away the fear and the foggy horrors of the dream that I can't even remember anymore. All I know is that I need Edward to fuck me.
"I need you," I can hear the desperate strain in my voice, as I kick the blanket out of the way.
I don't care how pathetic and needy I sound. It's more important to get Edward inside me. He moves quickly, shifting me between my legs, and pressing his cock against my pussy. I'm not nearly wet enough and my body is still aching from sex we had earlier, but I don't care. I dig my nails into his back and he responds by pushing into me as he growls. He doesn't get very deep before my body stops him. I barely notice the sting as I groan in frustration.
"Maybe we should-" I don't let Edward finish whatever he's going to say.
I push him off, and maneuver him to lie on his back. I take a quick second to get my mouth wet before I lower it over his hard cock. His gasp reverberates through his whole body, and I can't help but grin around his dick. I bob my head up and down, making sure to wriggle my tongue over him as I go. His hood slides easily as I take him deep in my throat—I feel him glide with the motion of my tongue.
"LEAH!" Edward cries out as the head of his cock hits the back of my throat.
I'd laugh if I didn't have his huge dick in my mouth. He's stretched out on his back, eyes closed, his hands fisted in the sheets. Edward's naked skin is smooth and flawless with the exception of a few dark moles scattered randomly across his stomach and chest. As I take my mouth off his dick, I can see the muscles in his jaw twitch and jump. His chest isn't moving, and I wonder if he's holding his breath. I allow the head of his dick to slip from my mouth with an audible "pop." His head snaps up, his eyes open and staring at me as I scramble to straddle his body.
"You should be ready now," I say, with a smirk, and lower myself over his wet cock.
He slides inside me slowly as I grip this slick skin of his chest and shift my hips. Edward groans, lifting his hips and I sigh with relief, as his dick sinks to the hilt. It feels so good.
"You're going to kill me," Edward gasps, his hand yanking on my hair.
His mouth is open, chest heaving beneath my hands, and he's got the most ridiculously large grin on his beautiful face. I can't look at him. Something about his smile brings back the fear from my dream, and I don't understand why.
"You say that like it's bad thing," I try to sound braver than I feel, and rock my hips.
Edward moans low and moves against me. I push on his chest, and start to move over his dick with purpose. It feels so good that I almost can't control myself. I lean forward, getting more leverage so I can slam my hips down. My body is tightening and trembling. I can feel my orgasm building, and I pick up the pace, frantic to feel the relief I so badly need and want.
"Wait," Edward's plea barely registers as I continue to move.
Strong hands grip my hips, forcing me to stop. I open my eyes, leaning back away from Edward's concerned look, and try to claw away his hands. I'm so close.
"No!" I need to come, but he holds me in place.
"Leah," he whispers, and presses his hand against my cheek.
He wraps his arm around my waist while his other hand takes hold of my neck, his fingers digging into my skin. I stiffen in his grasp, and try to look away. I'm filled with dread at the thought of having to look him in the eyes right now.
"Look at me!" Edward tightens his grip on my neck, forcing me to look down at him.
The concern is back full force, and a sickening twist of guilt turns my stomach. The tears return, streaming down my face. I don't know what to do with this deep ache. It feels like my chest is about to cave in. I can't breathe. When I finally open my mouth, all that comes out is choking sob. My whole body shakes with the effort to let it out.
Edward cradles my face, keeping my gaze on him, and doesn't even flinch as I continue to cry. In fact, he has the craziest, most serene look on his face, not a hint of fear in his bright green eyes. He wipes away my tears, kisses my cheeks softly, and continues to fucking smile.
"It's going to be okay," he whispers, and brushes his lips against mine.
I gently push him back, taking a shaky breath, and look at him. His hair is a sweaty mess; a big clump is plastered against his forehead. He looks different, somehow—younger, maybe? I can't put my finger on what has changed, but I can feel it. Like the ache I feel has eased slightly, as I keep breathing. I shift forward, smoothing my hands over his face, and feel him twitch inside me.
I gasp and he closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip. A flush of rosy pink tints his cheeks, and I have the sudden urge to bite him. I lean back, enjoying the slow stretch of his cock shifting inside me, and the way his eyes fly open when he feels it, too. He hums low, like a deep rumbling that vibrates through his body and into mine. I watch his expression shift from surprise to intense concentration. I sigh, letting the feeling overtake me. He wraps his arms around my waist in response, while I raise my hips for him. I revel in the feeling of how deep he is. I like the way he looks right now, his focus. The entire fucking house could come crashing down on top of us right now, and I know his eyes would never leave me.
"Come back to me." He says it with such sincerity, his arms tightening around my waist, pulling me toward him.
He draws me in close, his hands wrapping around my shoulders. I wrap my legs around his waist, allowing him to pull me down onto his cock with more force, and I can't help but gasp when our flesh slaps together. Edward's teeth are dragging over my neck, and his nails are pressing into my skin. These enticing little pains mix with the overwhelming pleasure of his dick moving inside of me, and I feel the itching build of the orgasm only seconds before it hits me.
"Edwww-" I'm cut off by my own low moan of pleasure.
He holds me still, hands cradling my face, as his body continues to move inside me. I'm still shaking when he finally eases me down to the mattress, and pulls out of me. He lies down beside me, and continues to smile at me, while I try to remember how to speak.
"Good morning, beautiful," he whispers, and kisses my nose.
We're in this perfect pool of sunlight, Edward's naked body beside mine. His pale skin glistens next to my own dark skin. He turns his head to look at me, and I notice that his eyes are so green, they're practically glowing. The sun is lighting up the tips of his copper hair, and his skin is a pale, milky peach color. He looks like some mythical creature, a magical man that entrances women with his beauty. He is perfect.
Everything about this is perfect, with one exception. I touch the necklace that still hangs around my neck. The stone is warm from my body heat. It feels solid, but the chain still seems as delicate as a thread of silk. I gently readjust it, nervous that if I move too fast, it might snap. As I move my hand away from the necklace, I think about how Seth was right. When I was little, I had hoped to have Mom's necklace, but that isn't all—I wanted a love like my parents had, too. I dreamed of a man who would love me enough to give me his whole heart. Now that I actually have the man I dreamed about, I'm terrified.
"Hey," he sighs, scooting across the mattress to wrap his arm around me. He gently combs his fingers through my hair. "What's wrong?"
He gazes down at me with such affection—no, love—in his eyes. The sight only scares me more. In all the time I've known Edward, I've never seen him so...happy.
"Just not used to...this," I reply in a flat voice, wishing I could contain the panic that's sweeping through me.
"I know," he laughs softly, shaking his head a little as he does it and continues to smile at me.
He doesn't. How could he? Edward doesn't know me, not really, and there's no way that he's going to understand.
It's eight o'clock in the fucking morning on a Sunday. There is only one person in the entire world that I will wake up this early to see. Bella. A ridiculous thrill runs through me as I think about her; in less than thirty minutes, I'm going to see her for the first time in years.
Seth called me last night to deliver the news. Bella was flying in a week early to surprise Leah, and she asked if I could pick her up from the airport. I did my best not to sound like an overexcited puppy when I told Seth that it was no problem. He still laughed, in the knowing way that he does, and read off her flight information. I thought I was going to escape without getting a ration of shit, but just as we were saying our good byes, he had to add in a knock her dead, Tiger. Seth is such a fucker, I love the shit out of him, but I am so going to punch him in the gut the next time I see him.
His little taunt has done nothing to dampen my enthusiasm. I barely slept a wink last night, which sucked ass, because Embry had passed out early. He was still hung over from our traditional Friday night bar-hopping. Poor guy is still a minor leaguer when it comes to drinking. I spent most of the night playing Halo, and trying to not mentally retrace every single moment I've ever spent with Bella.
Now it's ass-crack of dawn early. I'm trying to keep the Rabbit from going off the road while I practice what I'm going to say when I see her. I run through a few thousand Rico Suave lines from the parking garage to the baggage claim. I check the giant monitor and see that her flight landed already. As I jog over to the baggage carousel, I scan the crowd for her long brown curls, and panic starts to make my palms sweat.
When I finally catch sight of her, I completely forget every single line I rehearsed. She is even more beautiful than I remember. Her dark hair is laying in big, lazy curls that dangle off the edge of her shoulders, and her full lips are glistening like juicy cherries. I peel my eyes from her face, and take in her body. It's been almost six years since I've seen her, and...Whoa! Bella's got boobs!
She is wearing a baggy cardigan sweater over her little flowery sundress in an obvious attempt to cover them up, but there is no hiding that magnificent cleavage. I force myself to tear my eyes off her body, and notice that she is standing next two giant suitcases that are covered in duct tape and Scooby Doo stickers. I sent those stickers to her as a birthday present years ago, and I'm stunned that she still has them. She glances at me, but quickly looks away, like she is embarrassed or something, which makes no sense. Why would Bella be awkward about seeing me? She knows I'm coming to pick her up. I start to freak out, wondering if Seth said something to her about my stupid crush, but quickly dismiss the idea. Seth may tease me, but he'd never humiliate me like that. Or at least I don't think he would.
After she glances at me a few more times, I see her blush, and it dawns on me: She doesn't recognize me. We haven't seen each other since I was a scrawny little ankle-biter. Bella's probably expecting a short, skinny punk, like Embry. In the meantime, I turned into six foot three me with a pair of twelve inch biceps. Yeah, I work out, and right now I am so fucking thankful that I do. Confidence pours back into me as I walk over to her, and catch her take another covert look at my crotch. Bella Swan is checking out my package! Hallelujah, Amen and Fuck YEAH!
"You need a ride, Gorgeous?" It flows out of my mouth as smooth as silk, but it still sounds like the cheesiest fucking thing I've ever uttered in my life.
"Uhh," she gapes, her eyes widening as her mouth hangs open for a second, and her face turns a very bright crimson red.
"It's Jake," I say, smiling, and hoping like hell that she doesn't slap me for the cheesy pick up line.
I see a glimmer of recognition, and then nothing but relief in her face.
"Jakie?" She screams it, and jumps into my arms.
As I hold her against my body, I can't be sure whether I'm happy or want to kill myself. I'm totally stoked to have her so close to me, but Jakie? Fuck. I'm still Jakie, and I will be forever.
"It's great to see you Bells," I whisper into her hair, and try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
Author's Note:
Thanks to Kimpy0464 my fabulous and supportive beta. She really helped polishing this chapter, and made my snort with her awesome comments. Love you, Noodle. 3
Special thanks to Chele681 for holding my hand while I wrote this chapter. I don't know if I could have done it without you...Whore! 3