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BAG BOY

CHAPTER 8

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I could've spared myself the parental inquisition over breakfast about how I was spending my day off with a simple lie about taking a drive down the coast, but it didn't seem worth risking the four months of parental trust I'd banked since starting my job. So, I told my folks the bare minimum, but what I said was one hundred percent truth—I was meeting a new female friend I'd met at work.

My conscience was clear. If they happened to assume I was going out with a coworker my own age, well, that wasn't on me. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt me.

There was enough awkward as it was, with Mom trying way too hard to contain her million and one questions, and Dad giving me his "way-to-go" wink, one stud to another, over the pages of his Wall Street Journal, with a reminder to call by eleven if I was going to be out late—a comment met by Mom's classic, "Oh, Carlisle!"

I thought again about telling Emmett about this whole cougar boy-toy situation, if only so the police would know where to find my carved-up body parts. It was kind of crazy I hadn't yet mentioned anything about Bella to my best friend since third grade. Emmett and I had always shared everything girl-related, but for some reason, I didn't feel I could share this. He wouldn't get it.

I didn't even get it.

This thing with Bella was crazy and hot, and I was probably an idiot, but I didn't want to be talked out of it. I didn't want to stop. Especially not today, when at precisely 2:48, she was going to "take care of me." I had no idea how, other than coconut oil would be involved, and that was enough for me. She could be a demanding taskmaster, but Bella had kept every promise she'd made so far, and I knew she'd keep this one, too.

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"Is there, uh, anything in particular I should wear?" he asked, after listening to my simple instruction: shower thoroughly. He was fishing for clues; it was cute.

"You really are adorable to think it matters what you're wearing when you get here," I replied, and he gifted me with a cute huff.

"I'll see you soon, then."

I didn't need to remind him not to be late. There was no chance of that. "Drive carefully, cub. I want you here in one piece."

He showed up in an old pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt with the logo of some band I'd never heard of. The succulent arrangement was a surprise.

His eyes popped wide open as he took in my black leather outfit—a halter top barely wide enough to cover my nipples and a hip-hugging mini-skirt with nothing underneath, though Edward didn't know that part yet. I'd seen the way he'd looked at the dominatrix in the porn movie—a mixture of lust, curiosity, and just enough fear—and I'd wanted him to look that way at me. Mission accomplished.

He seemed to remember himself when his gaze reached my face again, and he offered the cactus bowl with a mumbled, "This is for you."

I held up the cream-colored ceramic container at eye level and examined the spikes poking out of the cacti in every direction. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"No," he answered with a quick shake of his head, "I just thought you'd like it. And you don't have to deal with putting it in a vase or anything." Smart. It wouldn't slow us down.

"Thank you, Edward. That was really thoughtful of you."

What started as a thank-you peck on the lips turned into full-on tongue-tango. His breath held a hint of mint—clean but not overbearing. A+ for effort, cub. We were still kissing as I pulled him inside and kicked the door closed behind him. I relished the way our lips held onto the kiss even as I pulled back and smiled at him.

"Damn, you're a really good kisser."

"I like kissing you," he answered with his own soft smile.

I set the cactus bowl down on the nearest horizontal surface, wrapped my arms around Edward's neck, and pulled him close again. His arms came around me; his hands met my bare back as we fell into a new, unhurried kiss. It felt nice to be able to relax into this one and really take our time. He didn't know exactly what I had in store for him, but he had to realize there would be plenty of foreplay and teasing during the next hour and a half.

I leaned into his hard body; he groaned and pulled me tighter, his hands sliding up my back. In my platform pumps, I stood tall enough to meet his thick bulge at my pubic bone. I rocked my hips against his groin as our tongues played hide-and-seek. My head buzzed with pleasure.

Don't rush it, I reminded myself. I slowed us to a dull roar, pulling my fingers through his hair and drawing back from our crushing kiss. "Easy does it, cub," I whispered onto his lips before pressing my mouth to his again.

He was remarkably versatile at switching gears, eager to follow wherever I led. I loved that he trusted me that way. We swayed together, our kiss becoming a slow dance to the rhythm of our shared breaths.

Gently I pulled back, giddy from his kisses. "Hi."

He returned my smile with a wide grin. "Hi." We were still holding each other, still rocking together.

"Would you like something to drink? Coke? Beer? Vodka?"

Nervous chuckle. "Do I need vodka?"

"Possibly."

"Oh boy." He shook his head in a good-natured way. "Maybe just one shot . . . if you'll join me?"

I leaned in and kissed him once more. "Sounds like a plan."

He followed me to the bar, where I pulled down one of my monogrammed Lalique highball glasses and poured out what seemed like two shots' worth of Grey Goose. "Cheers!" I said, then tipped back half before handing the glass to Edward. His gaze never left mine as he downed the rest and swallowed with a loud, "Ah!"

I relieved him of the empty glass, then took both his hands in mine. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he answered, his eyes blazing with excitement for whatever was coming next.

I slipped my hand to his cheek. "And you've been a good boy?"

"Very good. Painfully good," he added.

"Poor baby." I ran my thumb across his lips. "You do know that's going to get worse before it gets better?"

He took the news with a sober nod. "I had a feeling."

"But when it does get better"—I cupped his groin with my free hand—"it is going to be really, really good."

His eyelids drifted shut for a moment, and he pulled in a deep breath and released it. "That's actually not helpful," he said, then huffed out a nervous chuckle.

"I believe in you, Edward. You've held out for almost four days now. Surely you can make it another"—I craned my neck around him to check the mantel clock—"eighty-four minutes?"

His gaze drifted downward to my thumb grazing the outline of his erection through his jeans. "I'll do my best," he said.

"That's all we can ask. Now come, I have a special treat waiting for you."

I took his hand and walked him down the back hall to the home gym, a compromise I'd allowed Jake in exchange for my screened-in porch. After the divorce, this part of the house had gone unused until my friend Alice had the brilliant idea to repurpose the room as a spa. With a few designer throws, a massage table, and a masseur who made house calls, I now had a mini-retreat right inside my home.

Edward paused at the doorway to take it all in: the dimmed lights and flickering candles I'd set up on the sideboard, the spa music floating through the speakers, and at the center of the room, the massage table covered in soft sheets.

"Wow, this is really nice."

"Go ahead and take off your clothes and get comfortable on the table."

His face lit up. "Me?"

"You've been good, haven't you?"

"Yes!"

"Well? I promised to take care of you, didn't I?"

I've never seen a person take off his clothes quicker. He toed out of his sneakers while one hand tugged the shirt over his head and the other fiddled with the button of his jeans. He shuffle-kicked his shoes over to the corner, tossed his shirt onto the bench, pushed the jeans down his legs and stepped out of them. He wasn't shy about taking off his underwear even as his hefty erection snapped up against his belly.

He nearly ran to the table and climbed on top, stretching out onto his belly and wriggling against the sheets to get comfortable. I hadn't planned on starting with his back, but he was irresistible lying there with his cheeks in the air. Besides, the boy deserved some TLC for his efforts.

I walked over to the side table, where I'd stashed my supplies, and picked up the bottle of coconut oil I'd made a point of purchasing in Edward's checkout lane yesterday. I squeezed out a squiggly line from his neck to his tailbone, then placed my hands on his back.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked him. He moaned in response, bringing a smile to my face.

As I worked the oil across the expanse of his shoulder blades, he seemed to melt into the table. I took the opportunity to admire his back—the pretty curves of a swimmer's body, wide shoulders angled to a narrow waist, a great ass my imagination reverse-undressed, clothing him in a bright red Speedo. I shook my head at my silly self as I kneaded the muscles of his lower back, not that I knew what the hell I was doing, but his happy grunts were enough to keep me going.

"That feels so good," he mumbled into the pillow cradling his face.

"Good, I'm glad," I answered.

I drizzled more oil along his ass crack, then skimmed my hands over his cheeks. He tensed under my palms. I slipped my thumbs between his thighs and worked open his legs. He clenched hard as my thumbs traced a line to his hairless balls. His back rose and fell with shallow breaths. He rocked his hips into the table.

I reached between his legs and took his balls in my hand. "Careful, cub. It's not time yet." And I have something much better in store for you than humping my massage table, sweet boy.

"Sorry," he whispered.

I bent over so my lips were near his ear. "Turn over, baby."

He wasted no time flipping over, his eyes hooded and dark as we made eye contact. "I think I'm close," he said.

"You can do this," I said.

"I want to," he answered. "I don't want to disappoint you."

I leaned over and kissed him hard. "You won't. I won't let you."

I took his right wrist in my hand and stretched it over his head to the corner of the table, then reached for the cuff I'd attached to the table leg. I had him clipped in before he realized what was happening. His face registered surprise, but he didn't fight me when I cuffed his other wrist. He let out a sigh as I dragged his right ankle to the corner of the table and tightened the cuff.

With my hand on his left ankle, I paused. "Tell me you want this."

"Bella, please—" He struggled with it, but betrayal quickly turned to resignation. "Please lock me in."

"Good boy," I told him, then slid his leg to the corner and bound him spread-eagle to the table.

I stood back to admire my work. He was so beautiful, so perfect in his surrender. And that cock, red-tipped and indignant . . . so needy, so ready, so unapologetic in its demands. My resolve was wearing as thin as his.

I ran my hand across his neat patch of hair. His cock tipped toward my hand like a flower leaning toward the sun. Circling his shaft with my fingers, I swirled my tongue across his tip and tasted the salty tang of his pre-cum. I surprised him, taking his cock into my mouth, swallowing his shaft to the back of my throat, then pulling off him with my lips puckered in a tight circle.

"Fuuuuuck!" he whisper-yelled, eyes pinched hard against the pleasure.

I dipped my head to the base of his shaft, and lapped at his smooth balls while his cock banged against my nose. Edward writhed along the table, bouncing his hips as much as the bonds would allow. I pulled his balls into my mouth and rolled them around in my cheeks before releasing them with a wet slurp. He fought the bonds, twisting and swearing, until he realized it was futile. I waited for him to relax back into the table with a loud sigh.

I took him into my mouth again, bobbing my head up and down his thick shaft, then letting him slide out of my mouth.

"Bella . . . please."

"Please what, baby?"

"Is it time?" His eyes were wild and desperate. I don't think he would've been surprised if I'd told him an hour had passed. I'm sure it felt that way to him.

"Not yet. Twenty more minutes. You can do this."

He threw his head back against the table, letting out a frustrated growl.

"My poor cub." Reaching over my head, I opened the snap at the back of my neck. My halter flopped forward, and out spilled my tits. "Maybe if I gave you something to suck on, too . . .?"

"Yes, please," he answered gruffly, laser-focused on the sway of my breasts as I moved toward his head.

As I bent over his face, he opened his mouth wide. I lowered my chest until my nipple met the tip of his tongue. He moaned softly, lapping gently at my sensitive skin. I praised him—"Mmm, feels so good, love your hot mouth"—while running my fingers through his hair. I dragged my tits across his face, and he strained to lift his head and chase them with his mouth. When I tired of the game, I stepped away from his head, unsnapped the leather strap at my lower back, and tossed my top onto the pile of his clothes.

"Time to play with my pretty cock again." I slid my palm down his abdomen and wrapped it around his cock.

He let out an anguished whine.

"Oh! I'm sorry . . . Did you want me to stop touching you?"

"No!"

I laughed, and he answered with a sheepish grin.

Still holding him by the base of his cock, I reached for the oil bottle and drizzled a stream onto his belly, his abs, and the tip of his cock. Keeping a maddeningly loose grip, I rode my hand up and down his erection. The oil made a squelching sound that nearly drowned out his needy little grunts. He pumped his hips, trying for more friction than I was giving him. I slid my hand to the base of his cock and squeezed until his breathing returned to normal again.

"Hmm, do I need to climb on top of you and hold you down, naughty boy?"

His nostrils flared—I had my answer. I climbed onto the table, fuck-me-seven-inch-heels and all, and hiked up my skirt high enough to straddle his waist, also high enough for him to see that I wasn't wearing underwear. I sat down on his belly, my slick pussy meeting his oiled-up skin. His eyes rolled back in his head.

I dropped forward onto my hands on either side of his head, letting my nipples graze his cheeks. "You know what I think?" He shook his head. "I think it is a very good thing I have you tied down, young man. Otherwise, I'm not sure we could get you to the finish line. Don't you agree?"

His Adam's apple bobbed hard. "Yes."

"You're not gonna lose it if I put my mouth on you again, are you?"

His voice gravelly with lust, he forced out, "I don't know."

"Aww. Tell you what; I'll help you through the home stretch. If you feel like you're going to come, I want you to tell me, and I'll stop everything. Deal?"

His expression darkened. It was hard to tell whether he wanted to murder me or fuck me. "Deal."

I smiled brightly. "What a good cub you are."

I dropped a kiss on his lips before lifting my skirt to my waist and flipping around to face his feet. I bent forward, providing him quite the obscene view of my ass as I deep-throated his shaft. The boy couldn't move, but he sure as shit could make noise. He let out a steady stream of curses and groans while I brought him to the brink with an enthusiastic blowjob. I pulled off with a pop! and drew his balls into my mouth. He twisted against his bonds, thrashing his head from side to side, as my fist slid up and down his shaft. I hummed and lapped at his balls with my tongue. He went wild when I slipped a finger inside his hole.

"Ohgodohgod! Gonna come! Fuck! Stop!"

And stop I did, squeezing the base of his cock until he calmed.

Climbing carefully off the table, I glanced at the clock. "You made it!"

He gave me a shaky smile. "Yeah?"

"Yes! Four whole days! I knew you could do it!"

He blew out a long breath, sounding very much like a leaky tire. "That makes one of us."

I couldn't help but giggle. I was really proud of him, ridiculously pleased, in fact.

"How would you like me to finish you off? You want to come in my mouth? Want me to use my hands? Tell me, baby. You've earned this. Whatever you want . . . just name it and it's yours."

His eyes narrowed. "Really? Anything?"

"Anything we can do while you're cuffed to the table."

He blinked, swiped his tongue across his lips, studied my body up and down in a way that made me glad I'd stipulated the tying down. I'd pushed him dangerously far this time.

"I want you to sit on my face so I can lick you till you come."

A shiver rippled through me. After four days of abstinence and a solid hour of edging, his first thought was for my pleasure? "Are you sure that's—"

"—and then, I wanna fuck you so hard we break this table in two."

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I kind of hated that I had to leave, but Bella wasn't the kind to cuddle, at least not with one of her "cubs." Frankly, I felt lucky she'd let me stick around this long.

It felt strange emerging from the candlelit room into the bold afternoon sun streaming into her living room. She held my hand as she led me to the front door, but I still felt like a day-drinker kicked out of the bar: dazed, drained, and dismissed.

She drew me into a goodbye kiss, and I made the most of it. I was learning how to play to my strengths—kissing, getting her off, proving I was worthier than the long line of cubs who came before me . . . and that no-good husband she sometimes invoked, too.

Breaking off the kiss but not our full-body embrace, she looked me in the eye and said, "You really impressed me this week, Edward."

The compliment seemed difficult for her, and I took it with a humble nod. "Thank you."

"I just wanted you to know I appreciate the effort."

I was filled with a warmth so complete and so unexpected, I didn't know what to say. "My pleasure" seemed trite and false. I went for honesty. "It wasn't easy."

"But was it worth it?" she asked, and I could have sworn I caught a deeply repressed note of longing in her voice. She wouldn't have appreciated my noticing.

I chuckled. "Well, we didn't break the table, but yeah . . . it was worth it."

A blush tinged her cheeks pink. We'd come damn close to breaking the table—lots of rocking and squealing—but that was Bella riding me like a rodeo star.

"So, you'd hold off again for a few days if I asked you to?" She raised her eyebrows, that hint of the devil returning to her smirk.

"Of course I would," I answered without hesitating. "But I really hope you won't ask that again . . . at least for a while."

"Noted." She reached for the doorknob. "I'll be in touch," she said, then smiled and added, "soon."


Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed Edward's well-earned release along with your own reader-equivalent of blue balls. Nothing like a little edging to keep the cub's attention, eh?

Thanks as always for your reviews. I always love seeing your responses, fielding your questions, and reading your predictions for what might happen next with these two. Wanna tell me something? You know what to do! Hugs and kisses to Chayasara for engaging in the most fun editorial debates!

XOXO
~BOH