Posted 2021-09-03; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12
Dinner with the Morandis and the Bertolinis was relatively quiet. Usually the most vocal of them all, Sulpicia was notably subdued, occasionally shooting sullen looks at her husband, who appeared to ignore her behavior. Aro did not ignore Bella, however, letting his gaze drift in her direction often before giving Edward a sly little smile or a shake of his head as if to indicate Edward was somehow failing at his "assignment".
Edward disregarded Aro's petty provocations, watching and waiting for an opportunity.
Surprisingly, it was Delia who provided the first one. Plainly uncomfortable with the lack of conversation, she cleared her throat and said, "Bella, Sulpicia and I are going into Amalfi for lunch tomorrow. You'll join us, won't you?"
Bella glanced at Edward before she answered, "That might be nice. What time will you—"
"I'd prefer that Bella remain at the villa tomorrow," Edward interjected quickly. He laid his hand over Bella's on the table, turning to her. "I want you to rest. You've been too tired lately." He noted the confusion in her gaze, waiting for her to remember the request he'd made outside. He was relieved to see understanding dawn as her expression cleared.
She nodded at him. "You're right, Edward. I'll stay here." Her tone was properly subdued.
My clever girl's been paying attention, he thought approvingly.
"Come now, giovanetto." Antonio's chuckle sounded nervous.
Edward wondered if he were more worried that his wife had taken offense or if Edward was about to. And referring to me as a "lad" just might do it.
When he'd received no response, Antonio added, "A lunch in town will do her no harm."
Edward shot him a warning glance. "Thank you, Antonio, but I will decide what's best for my wife."
In his peripheral vision, he watched Bella attempt to wipe a smirk off her face with her napkin. When she set the linen cloth back on her lap, her features were again composed.
Was she actually enjoying this?
Returning his attention to his meal, Edward noted the speculative look Sulpicia gave him before she scoffed under her breath, "Too tired. Ridicolo."
If conversation had been limited before, it had practically ground to a halt by the meal's conclusion. He had almost given up on having another chance to perform his role when Sulpicia rose to her feet and addressed Bella and Delia.
"Well, ladies, we will give al signore some time to discuss their business"—she looked disparagingly at her husband—"and take our coffee in my sitting room."
From beside him, Edward heard Bella murmur, "Of course."
Edward pushed back his chair somewhat forcefully. "Not tonight," he said, standing and taking hold of her hand. "I find I'm somewhat tired myself. Excuse us, everyone. Thank you for a delightful dinner, Sulpicia. Bella?" He tilted his head towards the door.
She rose from her chair, but when she paused to offer her thanks to their hostess as well, Edward tugged at her hand. "Now, Bella."
He watched her eyes widen slightly.
Good.
Aro had noticed too. As Edward led Bella from the room, he caught sight of the man's approving nod.
"Not that way," Edward said loudly, redirecting Bella towards an alternate path to their room. The long passage that circled the southern expanse of the building was filled with small meeting rooms, some with views, others with none. He'd scoped his way through them earlier in the day, a memorized map of camera and microphone locations in his head, and he had a particular one in mind. As they walked, he turned to her and winked.
"You okay?" he asked under his breath.
She nodded, a little out of breath from the pace he'd set but looking otherwise untroubled. "Uh huh."
He raised his voice again. "Remember what we talked about?" That sounded menacing enough, right? He wished he felt as entirely playful as she looked—and he hoped she didn't look that way on camera.
"Yes." There was another quickly-suppressed smile, like she had something mischievous in mind.
Let's hope it coincides with what's in mine.
Pulling her inside one of the rooms, he locked the door behind them.
"Um—" She sounded uncertain—and looked even more so when she saw him reach inside his jacket.
"Staying still," he reminded her. He unholstered his guns and slid them out of sight on a low bookshelf behind him. "That's all. That's the bet."
Her eyes scanned the room.
"Do you see a camera?" he asked her, putting his hands on her hips.
She shook her head.
He hummed noncommittally. He wouldn't lie and say there wasn't one. There was, but it was well hidden in a floral arrangement on the conference table. His body would block the lens's view. Anyone watching would get a good look at his back and very little else. More importantly, the room was one of the few not wired for sound.
Also significant: there was a small, sturdy wooden side table that would suit his needs quite nicely. Without warning, he picked her up, eliciting her squeak of surprise, and set her on its smooth surface.
"Comfy?" he asked.
The edges of the table were rounded and polished. They wouldn't catch on her skin, and the wall would let her relax—for now.
"Sure, why?"
He knew his grin was sly. "Don't worry. You simply have to stay still. Remember?" he whispered.
"Ah, um, so—?"
"Chicken, Swan?"
"Nope," she said quickly.
"Are you sure you don't want to back out?"
"No way."
There we go, he thought. Pride. A squiggle of compunction moved through his gut.
Her life, he reminded himself. For her life.
Don't think about that. No one will see anything. Just . . . focus on her.
"So, you're ready to stay still? Because the five minutes starts now."
"Yep. Bring it." She grinned, pressing her hands down on the table. Then she spoke the words that felt like they wove a spell every time she said them: "I trust you."
But unlike those other times, the feelings roused in him now were an unsettling mix of desire, gravity, and accountability.
Forcing back his misgivings, he placed his lips against her neck, dusting airy kisses over the sensitive skin there and then up to her chin. She shivered and whimpered but otherwise stayed still.
"No moving," he said, pretending to chide her, clucking his tongue.
She giggled. "'Kay."
He continued to breathe the suggestion of kisses over her skin, using his fingertips to trace a line from her knee to her upper thigh, increasing the distance with each repetition, coming ever closer to where one leg met the other.
"No moving," he repeated when she shivered again, and he urged her lips open with his, teasing the inside of her mouth with his tongue.
He gently drew her legs apart, easing himself between them. Her dress's skirt slid open to give his hand access, and he understood why Sulpicia had insisted on Bella wearing this the night of her Bacchanal. The lace, satin, and silk with which her legs and hips were clothed provided an easy trail for his hand to follow.
Under his mouth, Bella began to pant a little, softly moaning. Her fingers squirmed as she gripped the table.
Edward chuckled, feeling her body respond to his touch. "Three minutes to go. Stay still, Swan. That's all you have to do, and I'll do anything you want."
Oh, he liked the sound of that moan. He was already hard with anticipation.
"Anything?" she asked.
"Mm-hmm."
"Still want that pony," she managed, though much less cogently.
He undid a clip on her stocking, and then another, creating space for him to slide his hand under the edge of the scrap of fabric that served as underwear. Her muscles twitched.
"You can cry uncle whenever you want," he whispered, pressing her head back as he kissed her. He used his tongue to suggest what he wanted to repeat elsewhere with other parts of their bodies. Then he unhooked the bodice of her dress, revealing the soft flesh of her breasts held back by lace alone. Capturing one nipple and then the next with his lips, he teased her with his tongue, making slow, lazy, continuous circles.
Her entire body was rigid and straining.
A part of him was doing the same.
Sliding his finger to the center point between her legs, he toyed there next, not entering, but circling with his fingertips.
All she had to do was shift her hips a half an inch and she'd have the stimulation she wanted. It was too easy, swirling the pad of his pointer finger around that spot, feeling her swell with anticipation.
Any second now.
Gasping, she jerked forward.
"I win," he whispered, chuckling. Another groan under his mouth. "More?" he asked, gently biting her lip and releasing it.
"Yes." The word was panted out.
"Mm, that's too bad." Oh, he knew his grin was wicked. He was the damn Cheshire cat.
"You are . . . effing evil, Cullen."
"Ha, you've got one word right there. Remember, this is all on my terms now, Swan." His finger circled wickedly out of reach of that pleasurable spot, still elusive, still inviting her to push herself towards him. But he didn't want her to do anything because he'd won. No, he'd make damn sure she wanted everything that happened. "Tell me what you want."
Her face flushed crimson. She shook her head, her lips pressed together.
"I figured a girl from Harvard would be more articulate than that." He pushed her knees further apart, pulling her towards the table edge and the hardness between his legs.
"I want you," she whispered.
"Oh, you've got me, no doubt there"—he nuzzled her cheek with his nose—"but I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do."
He gave her a moment to swallow and shiver. "I want to feel you inside of me."
"Which part of me?"
Where did all the blood come from that made her cheeks turn so scarlet?
"My fingers? My tongue? My . . . cock?" Kissing and sucking on the skin behind her ear, he knew there would be a mark tomorrow, and he reveled in the thought, knowing it would be one that only he would see. Her body was liquid beneath his. He could ask her for anything at this point, and she'd probably give it to him—but that wasn't his goal.
"Your . . ." Her neck reddened under his gaze.
"Cat got your tongue, Swan?" Suppressing a chuckle at his joke, he spared her from having to answer by briefly trapping her tongue with his. Then he sighed melodramatically. "I guess I'll just have to leave you like this if you can't tell me what you want."
He barely heard it, and he wouldn't have if she hadn't breathed the words into his ear. "I want your cock inside me." Then she pointed her gaze away, her face flushed with embarrassment—and oh, yes, he saw her tongue dart out quickly and swipe at her lower lip. She wanted him.
"You sure?" he asked.
"Mm-hmm."
He'd stuffed a couple of condoms into his pocket before they'd left the room, and he retrieved one now, briefly debating asking her to put it on but not wanting to risk any of her being seen by the camera.
"I want you to touch yourself," he said quietly while he unbuckled his pants and shoved his clothes aside.
Her breathing was ragged, her skin flushed. Her hands remained on the table. Gently, he pulled her dominant one towards the space between her legs, and he pressed two of her fingers there, moving them in soft circles. "Like that."
She closed her eyes, doing as he asked. He rolled on the condom, giving himself a moment to watch her, mesmerized, as she continued the motion he'd begun, her breathing erratic.
"Show me where you want me," he said, recapturing her hand and wrapping it around himself, guiding her curled fingers slowly up and down. He couldn't help moaning quietly under her touch.
How did she keep blushing? She did though, her delicate, warm hand so tentatively pointing him to her desired location as he moved closer. Just inside her, he groaned with the effort required to keep from pushing any deeper, determined to make her demand more.
"No, no," he said when she tried to squirm her way further onto him. "Remember, you have to tell me what you want. So stay still"—he chuckled—"not that you're any good at that."
"Sadist," she whispered, all but groaning it. He felt her clench around him.
"Will you tell me what you want?" he asked. "Please?"
She was trembling, her words barely audible, but fervent. "I want you to make love to me."
He wanted her to tell him exactly how she wanted that done, but for now, he'd take the words her bashful nature let her produce. He pushed himself further inside, barely beyond where he'd been before. She was new to this still, and he knew he needed to be gentle, at least setting his own limits, given she likely didn't know hers yet.
She whimpered at this point, one hand digging into his ass, trying to move him forward. He gave up on waiting for more verbal instruction, pushing all the way inside and eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Opening his eyes, he checked her face quickly, making sure she'd made the type of gasp he'd wanted her to make.
"Don't stop," she whispered, her eyes closed.
He didn't, grinding his hips into hers again and again, listening to the wood of the table crunch against the stone wall behind it. Bella arched her back, the volume of her sounds mounting as he gave himself over to his primal movements. He'd been excessively careful with her the two times they'd been together before, and the sounds she was making now assured him that he was right to not hold back anymore. Her orgasm made her stiffen and then soften under him, her sweet body offering his even more give into which to lose himself.
She was breathing hard when he finished, her legs and body tremulous, and he had to fumble to grab the condom edge, he was so overwhelmed. He threw it into the garbage can by the door.
Bella recovered quickly, refastening her dress as Edward did up his clothes.
Her next words startled him. "Edward? Do you think he . . . they know we came in here?"
He hesitated before meeting her eyes and answering her question with one of his own. "Would it bother you if they did?"
As she studied his face for a moment, a hint of a smile curled the corners of her mouth. "Nope."
He wasn't sure what was going on in that scary-smart brain of hers but somehow he didn't harbor quite so many qualms as he had a few minutes ago.
Before he helped her down from the table, Bella put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward. "And if that's what happens when I lose, Cullen, you can win anytime."
Their walk back to their room was longer than usual, punctuated by frequent stops where he pressed her up against the wall to kiss and tease her. For once Edward didn't mind the number of cameras there were to pose for along the way.
Inside the relative privacy of their room, it was Bella who pulled him towards the bed, making her desires very clear. Their lovemaking was slow and gentle, and as he heard her gasp and felt her tremble with completion under him, he let himself be lost in the bliss of the moment.
Afterwards, Bella seemed to fall asleep quickly. Slumber approached much more slowly for Edward. With his arm wrapped gently around her, he stilled himself, listening to the slow and regular rhythm of her breathing.
He was certain that he'd done enough during the evening to allay Aro's concerns, but even with that logical confidence of the mind, his heart raced with its persistent doubts and thoughts of what was to come for both him and Bella. Unable to settle himself, he waited until he was certain that she was asleep before tightening his embrace. Only then did he give in, allowing himself to finally whisper aloud the words he dared to utter only when she wouldn't hear them, the ones he meant, but had no right to say: "I love you."
When the chirp of his phone sounded the next morning, Edward startled awake, still groggy from a restless night of planning escape routes and strategies, which now included taking Bella to "lunch" in town. No matter what came of what he'd set in motion last night, it would happen in the next few hours, and getting her away from the villa was the safest option.
Focusing on the screen, he had to blink twice before comprehending that yes, Aro had texted him: I wish to speak with you on the south balcony at noon. Do come alone.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.