BPOV
"Heyyy,"Edward yawns, his hands dragging through his unruly, coppery bed-head. He shuffles out of the bedroom and comes up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He leans down and kisses the back of my neck, nibbling and humming against my pale skin. A sleepy warmth radiates from his body and my skin prickles under his touch. It doesn't matter where Edward touches me or what part of his body he uses, my body immediately responds.
"Whatcha doin?" he asks curiously with the enthusiasm of a four-year old boy.
"Writing my mom an email. I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Nope," he murmurs across my cheek. I turn my head and meet his waiting lips. For a few moments we share a simple, intimate kiss and I sigh when he breaks it, returning to my email.
Renee and my step-dad, Phil, moved to Jacksonville a few weeks ago so Phil could attend spring training with the rest of his minor league baseball team. I was surprised at first, expecting my mom to be sad about having to leave Phoenix, but she's never sounded happier than when she's chewing my ear off about Phil and "the guys".
Edward begins to massage my shoulders with his strong, deft fingers. I loll my head back and hum contentedly as the sparks and tingles shoot through my tense muscles. He works his knuckles deep into the meat and I relish the pleasure mixed with pain.
"It's 4am," his sleepy, graveled voice informs me. "Either you just got up or you never went to sleep." I look back and notice that he's shirtless and wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms that are sagging far too low on his sharp, sculptured hips.
"A mixture of both," I say. He fucked me so hard last night that I drifted into the deepest sleep the moment he pulled out of me. It took the blaring sound of an ambulance racing down the block to wake me and Edward was still out cold. I stared at him for a full ten minutes before tip-toeing to the kitchen, flipping open my laptop and clicking on an email that awaited me from my mother.
Don't forget that your father's birthday is coming up, Isabella. You should call him more. He'd like that. He knows Edward is living with you now. I told him. He seemed hurt to have heard it from me instead of you, not that he'd ever admit it. But I know your father. You're still his little girl and remember, you can't choose your parents, just like you can't choose your children.
I rolled my eyes. Thanks, mom, for the wonderful advice as ever.
Even though they hadn't separated on the best of terms, my mother and father had remained civil if not borderline friendly towards each other throughout my childhood. Maybe it was the residue of a teenage resentment for Charlie's absence at the times when I needed him the most that I found difficult to let go of. He'd never apologized for it. But really, what did I want him to apologize for? And if he had to apologize, shouldn't Renee? Wasn't she equally at fault for the breakup of our family unit and my ensuing issues with the opposite sex?
Wasn't I a little old to still be dwelling on this?
I hit send and stretch, nuzzling into Edward's bare chest. He's still standing behind me, rubbing my shoulders and upper arms and humming a tune of his own that he's been playing with these past few days.
"Mmm, feels good," I purr.
"Coming back to bed?" His fingers find their way into my hair and I'm up and in his arms and he's carrying me to the bedroom. He sets me on the mattress and climbs over me, caging me between his muscular arms.
"It's beautiful," I murmur as he positions his considerable length between my legs. Its glistening tip knocks against my swollen entrance.
"That it is. I've never seen anything close to its equal," he moans, pressing his way through my wet lips and kissing his way down my neck, across my collarbone and over the mounds of my breasts. I giggle knowing he's referring to my body and not his tune.
"I meant your song."
"Iknowthat. ….And I meant you," he replies in a stuttered breath. He pushes inside me, filling me to the hilt, and I gasp, pressing both palms to the headboard.
"Godddd, Edwarrrrrrd," I writhe. He possesses me utterly and completely. I snarl my fingers through his hair and hold on. We ride each other until our bodies are covered in sweat and the morning sunlight streaks through Edward's hair, shining into his emerald eyes that can't bear to tear themselves away from my face; it sparkles across his skin peppered with its errant freckles, warming as he fills me, sliding in and out and I mooooan his name over and over as I come. It must be what he was waiting for and he grunts and explodes inside me.
Spent and emptied, he lays the full weight of his body on top of me and I stroke my fingertips up and down the outlines of his muscular back while he hums and nuzzles his nose into the flattened cleavage of my tender breasts.
Edward is exquisite. Have I mentioned that lately? I can't get enough of him. I can't hear enough of his melodic voice as he talks about music and history and books and movies and video games. Edward knows a little bit about everything - the observable universe, the crisis in Darfur, the latest developments in stem cell research, that a group of frogs is called an 'army' and a group of rhinos is called a 'crash' - and a lot about most things people only know a little bit about - the stock market, the IMF, Keynesian economics . Every time he laughs I want to cry. I'm so fucking lucky he's mine and I can hear that glorious sound any time I want to just by crossing my eyes and sticking my tongue out at him.
Sure. We've had a few arguments since he moved in – mostly about Jake. The recent topic being the fact that Jake knows where I live and has been doing drive-by stalkings since the day he found me in the street. The day after my first confrontation with Victoria. The day Edward left for Forks without word. The day the lights went out for weeks.
Jake has also managed to somehow figure out my cell phone number even after I've changed it twice and has been texting me incessantly. It's only gotten worse since he found out Edward's here.
He's living with you now?
Do you let him fuck your ass?
You never let me near it. You better not be letting him.
I miss you.
Call me.
My cock's bigger, right?
Are guys really this fucking insecure and egomaniacal? I never text back, which only serves to drive him more nutso, if that's possible, and he's confronted Edward on several different occasions as Edward's left the building. Shockingly Edward's managed to remain relatively calm and has merely retorted by telling him to go fuck his mother and given him the clever middle finger. Thank god Jake only shows up in broad daylight, usually in the morning as he's heading to the shop and takes a detour to pass by my building. He hasn't been by the club in weeks, thanks to Emmett and the NYPD.
**
The smell of Edward's musky skin and the stale taste of his come coating my tongue rouses me and I yawn in his tight hold, my face buried in his armpit. I try to stretch but he's strong and won't let me budge. He's asleep and doesn't realize he's doing it. I wriggle and loosen his hold and when I'm freed I look up into his sleeping face, his peaceful, serene expression, his stubbled chin and I stretch out across the bed we sleep in. Together. Me and Edward. I giggle to myself and cross my arms over my head as I contemplate my new reality.
**
"I've been meaning to tell you," Edward says, pushing my bangs from my forehead with the tip of his pinky finger. The covers have been kicked to the end of the bed and he hasn't bothered to pull the sheet over him. Which means he's laying flush next to me buck-fucking-naked and I am NOT ok with it. My head starts at his shoulder and my curled body hugs every curve us his and stops at our interlocking knees. Seeing him like this, uncovered with nothing to hide his flawless and shocking perfection, his finely muscled abs and arms, his long lean torso, his angular hips, the defined sex muscle, his toned legs, and then there's whats between them....my face burns red as I chew the insides of my cheeks.
"Bella?"
"Hmm?" Edward's cock is resting on his inner thigh. It's just fucking chilling there. It's not hard because it was just inside me, it's still glistening with the mixture of our fluids, I've seen it before, many times, but not this way. I'm waiting for it to perk up and notice me.
"Are you staring at my dick?" he asks incredulously.
"Huh? Oh. Yeah I guess I was. I can't help it. It's beautiful." I bite my bottom lip and blush into my shoulder.
"You're crazy, you know that?" he chuckles. "aaaanyway, as I was saying...My father is being honored by St. Jude's and the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center for the work he's done on childhood leukemia research. He's flying in next Friday for the celebration and he's asked me to join him."
"Edward that's wonderful!" I exclaim, launching myself onto him and pulling his bare chest to mine. I know Edward's relationship with his father is a strained one on a good day - from what I can gather from the very little Edward has to say about it, his father put tremendous pressure on him to achieve the specific life goals he set up, and when Edward chose otherwise if created a rift that has yet to fully mend. I wouldn't know anything about that kind of pressure. My mom is about as proud of me as I can handle, seeing as I work at a bar and live in a closet, and Charlie, well, I wonder if he knows what state I'm living in.
"I'm so happy you're going to see your father," I tilt my head up and smile into his face as he lowers his lips to meet my own. We kiss sweetly and I find myself lightheaded and sliding through his arms, per usual. It's pathetic really. It's not even an open-mouth kiss and I'm already a human puddle.
"...he invited me, with Victoria as my guest." Oh. I sag in his embrace. "Stubborn prick. I told him we broke up a million times and that we're not getting back together." He runs both hands through his hair in angered frustration at the man he sees every time he looks in the mirror. "He doesn't fucking listen. He does it just to piss me off."
My dejected expression can't be helping things and Edward rolls off the bed and pulls on his grey flannel pj bottoms. I frown at the loss of contact and the sight of Edward's naked body being covered up by pesky clothes.
"Edward." I try to stop him with my voice but he's headed to the door. He stops in his tracks with his hand on the knob and turns to me.
"I should have told you about it sooner, Bella. I'm so sorry. Please say you'll come with me to the benefit."
"He doesn't want you there with me. He wants you there with her." Hmmmf. I might as well cross my arms at my chest and stick my nose in the air. Mature, Isabella, real mature.
Edward sighs and I immediately wish I hadn't said it. I don't mean it. I'd go to the ends of the earth with Edward, for Edward, even if he told me not to. It's just, fuck, it's that fucking familiar twinge of jealousy at hearing her name pass Edward's lips. He says it so easily because he's said it for so long and when he does all I can see is the two of them fucking, Edward inside her, knowing that she had him first and that he'd still be with her today if it weren't for...
He's resting his forehead against the doorframe and concentrating on his hand wrapped around the knob.
"...Right," he says inaudibly. ...Of course. ...Well," he shrugs, suddenly defeated, weighed down and ready to give up. "I want you there with me, Bella,...so...I hope you change your mind."
"Edward, talk to me about him. You never talk about him. Even after he got sick. Even after he got better." I plead. "Why won't you?"
"I..." He twists the knob and his brows knit together. Come on, Edward. Talk to me, baby. please.
He shakes his head and opens the door muttering, "I'm gonna call Rose," and closes it behind him. I fall back on the bed and curse my stupid mouth.
**
Edward stands at the stove in nothing but those fucking grey flannel pants that scream for someone to help them as they desperately cling to his hipbones. His taut flat stomach and broad chest expands and contracts with each breath he takes and I stand mesmerized by his ballet dancer-like movements around my tiny kitchen.
He's cooking for me and after our terse exchange earlier, I wasn't sure who was going to make the next move. I laid in bed and fretted; willing him through osmosis to come back to bed as I listened to his murmurings through the door. I don't have any siblings. It's difficult for me to understand the relationship Edward shares with Rosalie. What I need to do is get over myself and realize that, even though he says I am, there is no way I can be Edward's everything.
His cell phone rests on the counter within his reach and I wonder what he was talking with his sister about for the last half hour. Rosalie's working for a temp agency in midtown, answering phones and doing various bullshit office work that she's far too over-qualified for while she applies to grad schools and internships at various publishing houses.
I smell the hot syrup and the turkey bacon and the fair trade coffee. He knows they're my favorite things without me ever having said so. He doesn't think I eat enough. He definitely doesn't think I eat correctly. If it weren't for him, I'd still be existing on Pop Tarts and organic Panda Puffs. It makes me happy that he knows his way around the kitchen and feels at home enough to take it upon himself to cook. It's our place now. Yeah, I pay the rent because he's not working, but he constantly reminds me that he's looking for work and that he'll find it. We've had endless discussions about it because he's paranoid as shit that I'll think him a sponger. I've told him over and over that it's ok. I was living here before he came around and I'd be living here even if he wasn't. I'm paying the same rent as I was before he moved in and I'd happily pay to have his company anywhere. Living here with him only makes my life better.
"I'm sorry," I breathe into his ear as I wind my arms around his waist and stroke the fine hairs on his belly. His eyes flutter and a slight moan escapes his lips.
"For what?" he asks sincerely. "Making me instantly horny just by entering a room."
"Ha, no. But thanks for the ego boost. …...I didn't mean to sound jealous before. I really, really didn't. But....fuck it I can't lie...I really REALLY am."
"It's my fault. I should have told you sooner. The invitation came the other day." He pushes through a pile of mail on the kitchen table – hmm, I should eventually sort through that – and pulls out a creamy starched envelope with his full name in script, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, and Victoria's address printed on the front. My stomach drops.
His mail is still going to her place.
"So...does this mean he isn't accepting the fact that you aren't with her?" It's not completely unreasonable to think that Edward lies to his father to avoid confrontation.
"I don't see how he'll be able to deny it much longer. Especially when I walk in with you on my arm."
"Edward-" I start.
"You're coming with me, Bella. That's all there is to it. ....Don't you think I should introduce my father to the woman I love?"
"Well, when you put it like that," I blush and sway in his embrace. His hands are locked together at the small of my back and he's pressing his erection into my abdomen. Goddammit he'll always win. It's so annoying. He looks like a living Greek statue, and his stare, when it sets in is unnerving. It's relentless and he never, ever looks away first. He was that kid in school who always won the staring contest during study hall.
He noses around in my hair, content and murmuring and smelling and letting the dark strands brush across his face. He nudges and I tilt my head up so he can get at my lips and I melt into a quivering pile of Jell-o as his tongue pushes between my teeth and I open up to let him taste me and to taste him back. He kisses me sweetly and languidly, every wide lap of his talented tongue is followed by a delicate peck and a thin line of saliva holding our lips together when he pulls away for air.
I'm lightheaded and weak in the knees and I let the entire force of my weight lean on him, pushing his back against the counter.
"Whoa whoa. Bella, look at me. Breathe, Bella. Did you almost faint?" he asks with concern creasing his brow.
"Uh, yeah, maybe." I feel drunk and he pulls out a chair for me to sit on. He pours coffee in my favorite mug and sets it down in front of me. I drink it greedily. He pushes my arms aside so he can make room for the plates and finally sits down.
"You'll make an excellent, Mr. Mom," I kid, chomping into a strip of turkey bacon. It's cooked just the way I like it. Two minutes from being burnt to a crisp.
He groans and shakes his head unhappily. "That's exactly what I don't want to hear, Bella. It's emasculating."
"Why? The thought of you in an apron is hot. As long as it's the only thing you're wearing." I break out in a fit of giggles at the thought and hiccup on my coffee.
Edward is not amused.
"Stoppit, Bella. It's not funny. I want to take care of you. I want to come home to you and our children and I want to take you in my arms and kiss you passionately and make love to you all night and fall asleep in your arms."
He smiles and sticks his fork in his mouth completely unaware of what he just said and the effect its having on my insides. My jaw hangs ajar as I watch him eat. Snap out of it, Bella. You're not hearing things. He really said it.
"Children? You want...children?"
He turns to me with his mouth full. "With you?" he asks seriously. "Yeah, of course," he shrugs and digs back into his pancakes. I'm light-headed, completely overcome, spellbound, scared shitless. He's so non-chalant about it, like winter turning into spring.
"Bella," he continues with the same confidence. "I will find a job. I know you don't want me to get one just to have one, but really, I don't know why you have such high ideals of me. I could take the night waiter position at that bistro in Soho. Or that bike messenger job. It's work, it's money."
"You're better than that. Keep looking."
He cocks his head and grins out of the corner of his mouth. "Why do you hold me in such high regard? I've certainly done nothing to deserve it."
"Don't start putting yourself down to me." I hold up my hand to stop him before he starts. I hate it when he gets like this, when he whips out the laundry list of his faults and non-accomplishments. It's his father talking and it breaks my heart.
"Once I turn twenty-five," he mumbles, pushing his fork around his plate.
"What happens when you turn twenty-five?" Oh Edward, so mysterious today.
"I collect my trust. My inheritance. So does Rosalie."
Hm, I think I remember him mentioning something about that. Big Daddy Cash.
"And...how much is that?"
"Ten million."
I'm sorry, say that into my good ear. Fucking what????
"Oh. So like, five and five." For you and your sister.
"No. Like, ten and ten." He's not looking at me as he says it and I'm glad because my eyes are wide as saucers, his least favorite look of mine because he says it means that I'm shocked/mortified/appalled over something I've recently learned about him.
He's right as rain about the shocked part. I knew he came from money, a lot of money, but not the kind of money that produces twenty mill inheritances. How much are they paying doctors these days anyway?
"I've very glad you've agreed to accompany me to my father's reception, Bella. It's a great comfort to know that I will have you there by my side. You have no idea. ...My father and I..." there's immediate struggle in his throat. "We haven't always seen eye to eye."
I reach across the table and pick up his hand. It's warm and soft and he brushes the pad of his thumb over my knuckles. I sense a moment of clarity on the horizon.
"After his...illness..." He says it like he's not sure if he's using the right word. "I thought he would ease up on me. There was one night where he was delirious from the pain and he talked about the past, his past, what it was like growing up under my grandfather's iron fist. I don't think he knew who he was talking to or that anyone was there with him, but I sat and listened to him for hours. I learned more about my father in that one night than I have in my entire life. He's a brilliant man. And out of that brilliance grew arrogance, pride, lordliness, a sense of ownership over all he comes into contact with – people and things."
I'm quiet as he shares. It's the most he's said about his father since he got back from Thanksgiving with his family and I don't want to miss a word.
"Bella. I'd like to go back with my parents when they returns to Forks."
"You...would?" I gulp, suddenly sick to my stomach.
"Yes. I need to clear up a few things that I've left...unattended."
Huh? Unattended? What the fuck is he talking about? It's presumptuous of me to think I know everything about Edward Cullen but...I sort of thought I did. The important stuff at least. Enough to know whether or not he has "unattended" business that needs to be "cleared up".
I shake off the shock and smile brightly hoping he can't see through the fakery. "Yeah yeah of course. That's fine. I've um, I promised Emmett I'd take some extra shifts and, y'know, I have the Foer workshop next month to prepare for so, yeah, baby...you go. I'll be here when you get back. As usual."
Before I can process it Edward is up and on my side of the table, lifting me to a standing position and cradling my face between his hands.
"Bella," he whispers. he sounds borderline angry with me, his mouth fluttering over mine ever so lightly so I can taste the sweet syrup on his lips. "Shut up and ask for the time off. Missing you is not something I ever plan on doing again as long as it's in my power to avoid it."
yeeeah ok i know i know - the entire chapter took place either in the bedroom or the kitchen. lol. oh well. we'll move them around soon.
Come on new favoriters and story alerters - hit that review button and send me a shout!