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BAG BOY
CHAPTER 9
CougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougar
I glanced at the passenger seat one last time before making my right turn into the Nature's Bounty parking lot. The plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies stared back at me, as if their fresh-baked aroma hadn't already taunted me the whole way here. What the hell are you doing, Bella?
I'd restrained myself so admirably yesterday after the massage table climax to Edward's four days of edging. Even bound naked and, by all reasonable means of observation, completely at my mercy, Edward had a way of disarming me—a power he wielded not by seeking control but by enthusiastic surrender—managing to reduce the space between us and make me feel less the desperate cougar. If he'd been doing so consciously, I would've been frightened of his genius, but I'd seen enough to believe that was just Edward being Edward.
As the evening wore on, the pull to call him had grown stronger—especially after my second glass of wine. Resisting that urge was my way of keeping the upper hand, and those cookies riding shotgun were about to undo all that.
I woke from a rocky sleep with a burning desire to do something nice for him, an act of kindness with no strings attached. Something "normal." Without overanalyzing my motives or how he might receive the gesture, I jogged down the block to the corner store and paid through the teeth for cruelty-free eggs and fair-trade chocolate chips and the fluffiest brown sugar known to mankind, and after dusting off my stand mixer and digging out my cooling racks, I baked that boy a perfect batch of chocolate-chip cookies . . . from scratch. I levelled the dry ingredients with the back of a knife, not my usual shake-it-till-you-make-it, and I doubled the quantity of chocolate chips called for in the Toll House recipe, extra sweetness for my extra-sweet and deserving cub. I tasted one small cookie from the first batch just to make sure I hadn't made some horrible mistake but saved the rest for him.
I showered and chose one of my more innocent sundresses, twisted my hair into a loose knot, and timed my delivery for 10:25, just in time for his ridiculously early lunch. Despite myself, I was grinning like a loon as I took that final turn into Nature's Bounty, imagining Edward's face when he discovered me waiting for him in the parking lot, the extra twinkle in his eyes when the fresh-from-the-oven aroma hit his nose, the moan that would leave his lips at the first taste, the taste of melted chocolate on his tongue when we kissed . . . Yeah, this cub was getting to be a problem.
As I pulled into my out-of-the-way spot, I spied my cub walking out with a customer, both arms loaded down with groceries. I preferred him less buttoned-up and composed—god, but that wild hair drove me nuts!—but even seeing him in Eddie Haskell mode made my heart pound. My hard-working boy. Look up, sweet cub. I'm here . . . surprise!
Ever the diligent bag boy, Edward was chatting away with his customer, a middle-aged woman who also seemed very engrossed in their conversation. She couldn't have known anyone was watching the way she looked at him when he leaned into the trunk with her bags, but I saw it—a fondness I recognized all too well, not that she stole any inappropriate glances at his body, but her expression, a kind of possessive affection, soured the delicious tickle in my belly.
Okay, cub, close the trunk, wave goodbye, there you go . . .
The woman grabbed him by the arm, leaned in, and surprised him with a peck on the cheek. What the hell? Even I wouldn't have taken such a liberty. Get in your car, ya old biddy, and keep your lips off my cub!
Clearly embarrassed, Edward pulled back and glanced all around to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, his gaze didn't extend as far as my car. I was indignant for him, and I kind of wanted to punch the bitch. They spoke briefly. Edward gave her an awkward wave and turned toward the store.
I couldn't deliver the cookies now; I'd be lumped together in his mind with this other brazen hussy-harasser! She'd ruined everything.
Hoping I might help wash the bad taste out of his mouth, so to speak, I sent him a text and watched him pull out his phone to read it: Feel like earning some $$ after work?
He paused in his tracks to tap out an answer: Wish I could. Can't tonight- family thing. Sorry.
Distrust snaked around my heart and squeezed tight. Did this kissy customer have anything to do with his plans tonight? Stop being precious. You don't own him.
No problem.
He stared at the phone for a beat, then replied: Want me to come over in the a.m. before work tomorrow?
Not what I had in mind, but I couldn't revoke the offer now. Besides, I still had a punch list a mile long. Sure. See you at 7:30.
~#~#~
Alice and Rose double-teamed me at dinner, which I suppose I deserved, only reaching out to them after Edward rejected me. They weren't shy about sharing their opinions, nothing I hadn't heard before. I'd lost perspective, they claimed. I rolled my eyes, deflected, and put them off. They'd called me out plenty of times since my divorce for what Rose had coined my "Cougarella" mode.
Who was this new man who had taken me out of circulation, they demanded. I couldn't even pretend not to be giddy about Edward, not that they'd ever know him as more than another cradle I'd robbed.
They sang the praises of "appropriate" men in their thirties: not living with Mom and Dad, gainfully employed, skilled in the pleasure department. That's when I finally lost it, unable to humor their arguments for another minute. What Edward lacked in experience—and it wasn't a whole lot—he more than made up for in enthusiasm and God-given gifts. I wouldn't have traded him for any lover I'd had before and couldn't imagine finding a better one down the road, a road I wasn't ready to think about yet. I had too many plans for this cub.
We girls had our belly laughs and parted on good terms, as always, respectfully agreeing to disagree about my taste in men. Edward would have charmed their pants off had I given them a chance to meet, but I know myself better than that. I don't share—just ask Jake—which is exactly what had me all twisted up inside.
Bagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboy
Sadly, Bella didn't answer the door wearing a towel the next morning. Dressed for yoga, she greeted me with a cool, businesslike hello, then rattled off my instructions: finish replacing the bulbs in the basement and start on the stained ceiling panels after that. She didn't follow me downstairs, didn't tease me with porn or phallic foods or dominatrix attire.
Her tone threw me at first, but this wasn't a booty call. Our boundaries were—well, we didn't have any boundaries, but I could respect Bella for separating business from pleasure. After all, I was the one who'd balked over taking money for anything that hinted at sex. Besides, I was barely awake. If called to—ahem—duty, I'm sure I could have performed admirably, but I was just as happy to save the sexy stuff for later.
I finished changing the bulbs and was able to remove a bunch of damaged ceiling tiles before I needed to leave for work. Bella met me at the front door and pressed a wad of cash into my hand. I didn't count it but I knew it would be three times my hourly rate at the store. I thanked her as I shoved both hands, along with the bills, into my pockets.
"Thanks for making it work this morning, Edward," she said, reaching for the handle.
Dismissed. I was liking that feeling less and less, especially after Bella's encouraging goodbye after my last visit.
I leaned forward to kiss her, just a little peck on the lips, not even taking my hands out of my pockets. She didn't pull away, but she sure as shit didn't kiss me back. I could handle her sex games, but this mind-fuck crapola was not for me.
"Bella, did I do something wrong?"
"No, not at all," she said too quickly. "I know you're a busy guy . . . I don't want to keep you."
Bullshit. How much longer did it take to give someone a decent goodbye kiss? I knew it was dangerous to press her, but I was having a hard time reconciling this Bella with the one who'd told me she was impressed with me and promised to be in touch soon, and maybe I was a little bit pissed . . . so, I risked it.
"Will I see you later?"
"Oh, uh . . . we'll see." Her gaze darted away. She didn't want to be having this conversation.
"Okay, well, you know where to find me for the next eight hours."
"Yep, in the parking lot, flirting with all the old ladies." Whoa. She tried to soften the blow with a tacked-on smile, but I felt the punch in my gut just the same.
"Is that what you think I do?" I couldn't keep the quake out of my voice, and that pissed me off even more.
She blew out a sigh, folding her arms across her chest. "Okay, I'll cut to the chase."
"Please."
"I saw that woman kiss you in the parking lot yesterday."
"What woman?" I picked through the dizzying details of the last twenty-four hours for any encounter involving another woman's lips. I was blank. Nor could I remember seeing Bella yesterday, and that's not something I would have forgotten. "Bella, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."
With a wave of her hand, she dismissed me—again. "Look, Edward, it's none of my damn business if you're cavorting with other women . . ."
Cavorting? And what was with all the "Edward"-ing this morning? Had my time as her "cub" run its course so quickly? Dread seeped into my bones.
"Though I must say," she went on, "I'm a little disappointed in your taste. That woman looked like she peaked about fifteen years ago."
Oh my god. "You saw me with my mom?"
"That was your mom?" Jaw dropped, eyes popped, Bella's face lengthened into one giant, OH SHIT. I let her chew on her foot for a bit, quite enjoying my moral high ground and doubly enjoying that Bella was straight-up jealous.
"Wait, you were at the store? Why didn't I see you?" I pulled my hands out of my pockets, folded my arms across my chest, and waited for her to try to talk her way out of this one.
"I . . . left."
"Without coming inside?"
She studied me before confessing. "I didn't go there to buy groceries." O-kay, then.
The confusing blur was starting to come into focus. Bella must have driven to the store with something kinky on her mind, and I'd missed out because she'd seen me with my mom and flipped. She must have sent those texts from nearby, already shaken by what she thought she'd witnessed, when I'd rejected her again by declining her invitation to get together last night. No wonder I'd been getting the cold shoulder this morning. My confident cougar had turned into a hurt pussycat.
I felt sad for both of us, but we weren't going to resolve this now. Bella would need some space to nurse her wounded pride, and I needed to get my hourly ass to work.
"Well, I'm sorry I missed you." I shot her a hopeful smile. "Maybe I could get a rain check on that . . . visit?"
She seemed to struggle with how to answer. "Tell you what. Why don't you come over straight after work today and finish those ceiling tiles while I cook us dinner?"
More work? Soooo not where I thought this was going. My jaw must've dropped because she took one look at me and chuckled. Whoops.
"What's the matter, Mr. Cullen? Afraid of my cooking?"
Now it was "Mr. Cullen"? Ugh, we were moving backwards.
"A little," I joked.
"Don't worry," she said, giving my cheek a pat. "I won't make you eat rabbit food. I'll call in a delivery order for red meat before you punch out."
"Please don't feel like you need to make anything special for me." She could feed me filet fucking mignon, and it still wouldn't be what I really wanted. I was, however, encouraged that her "we'll see" had turned into an invitation.
A grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Are you trying to tell me you're easy?"
"Only for you, Bella."
She rolled her eyes, and we both laughed. "Don't forget to tell your mom you won't be home for dinner." Buzz officially killed.
~#~#~
I wanted to hug Mr. Banner when he called me into his office at 4:20 to gather Bella's groceries for delivery. Her shopping list belonged on one of those top chef shows: dandelion greens, jicama, three kinds of squash, purple potatoes, grape tomatoes, barramundi, exotic varieties that required thought and careful attention and reminded me at every turn of my inexperience.
If this was Bella's way of reclaiming the dominance she thought she'd lost earlier, of resetting our relationship back to "normal" and proving to both of us that she could make me do whatever she wanted even when she wasn't anywhere near me, I was all in. It felt kinda hot, in a weird way, to chase down the best ingredients from one end of the store to the other—all for her. I'd never wanted to impress a girl the way I wanted to impress Bella.
I grilled Javier for ten minutes about how to choose the best Mirza melon. I sent the barramundi back across the fish counter three times until every fin and bone was removed. I scoured the olive oil shelves for the most extra of virgins, whatever the hell that meant.
The last item on her list was a 24-ounce porterhouse, which was obviously for me. Not gonna lie, I drooled a little bit as the butcher slapped it onto the scale. My heart nearly stopped when I got a peek at the price—$22.63! Peanuts for a woman like Bella, but she didn't have to do it. Hell, I was still soft inside from the Coke she kept in her fridge for me.
I was hungry enough to fantasize about that first bite of steak, but the good fantasies were all for Bella.
~#~#~
I was hoping she would tear off my clothes at the door or at least give me a decent kiss this time. None of that happened. In fact, she didn't even meet me at the door, just yelled, "It's open!"
I tracked her voice and moved through the living room in delivery-boy mode. I found her chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter, long hair spilling softly over her shoulders—my favorite of all her hairstyles. I set the bags down onto the counter and began emptying the contents.
"I hope you won't think less of me if I can't finish that steak. Twenty-four ounces is a lot of meat."
"No pressure," she said, giving me the briefest of smiles. "There's a beer for you in the fridge, if you like."
I liked . . . a lot. I especially liked that she wasn't shooing me to the basement. "Thanks. Can I get you something? Glass of wine?"
"Sure, that'd be nice. I think there's an open bottle of rosé in there. Help yourself if you'd rather have that."
"Nope, beer's good."
I'd come to understand Bella's choice of clothing as an outward sign of her moods. The mini-skirt and the towel were meant to tease, and leather meant kink, but tonight's little shorts romper left me wondering—especially what that long zipper down the back was trying to say. Not overtly sexy but also not the see-if-I-care yoga outfit from this morning. If this was her wardrobe's way of saying, "We'll see," I was prepared to be persuasive.
It wasn't easy keeping my hands and lips off her, but taking liberties with this woman was no way to win her over. I filled her glass with a generous pour, popped the top off my beer, and walked over to Bella with our drinks. I thought better of speaking the toast that came to mind—"To my mom!"—and left it at a meaningful meeting of gazes over the soft clink of her glass to my bottle.
"What can I do to help?" I asked.
"How are your knife skills?"
I shrugged. "I don't think you'd want me cutting out your appendix, but I can probably chop some lettuce."
She laughed, and some of the tension seemed to roll off her shoulders. A hundred more jokes, and she might be ready for that kiss.
"How do you feel about slicing the jicama?"
Ah, my first test, and I was prepared. "I feel great about it. Juan told me exactly what to do." I smiled at the delight on her face. Yeah, she was impressed.
I was halfway through the summer squash when she stopped chopping to check on my work. "Not bad. I think there might be a future for you in food service, after all."
I kept slicing that squash even though the smell of her shampoo was making me dizzy with desire. "Actually, my dreams of being a career bag boy pretty much ended last night."
"What do you mean? What happened last night?"
"Big meeting with the parents to decide my future." And now I felt like a dumb kid, not exactly how I wanted Bella to see me.
"So last night really was a family thing?" Wow, she'd gone farther than I'd thought down a dark road of distrust.
"Oh, yes. My parents decided it was time to revisit the whole gap-year thing. Mom thought her homemade spaghetti and meatballs would soften the blow. That's why she came to the store, to buy provisions."
"What blow?"
I set down the knife and took a swig of beer. "They want me to 'stop futzing around' and get back to school before it's too late."
"I don't understand. Aren't you doing everything they wanted? Holding down a responsible job, even earning extra money on the side?"
"I am. Honestly? I don't think I was supposed to be enjoying it so much. I believe I was meant to experience the horror of life without a college degree and find it so miserable, I'd go running back to plant my nose in the books and swear off the party life. And that's pretty much exactly how it was going before I met you," I said with a wink that made her blush. "Even my dumb job is bearable when there's a chance you might stop by at any point to spy on me."
"I wasn't spying on you!"
I would've told her I was flattered if she'd given me half a chance.
She let out a sigh. "If you must know"—I cocked my head; hell yes, I needed to know—"I was delivering a batch of homemade cookies!"
"To me?"
She rolled her eyes. Irritation was so much easier than admitting she cared. "Of course to you. Who else would I be baking cookies for?"
I knew I should probably play it cool, but my whole body was smiling all at once, and there was just no way to stop it. "What kind?"
Her cheeks had pinked up with all the confessing, and I desperately wanted to brush my fingertips over the heat. The urge nearly overpowered me when a small grin curled up the edges of her mouth.
"Chocolate chip."
I made a point of setting down the beer. "Wait. You made me chocolate chip cookies and brought them all the way to the store and then didn't give them to me? That's the meanest nicest thing anyone's ever done!"
She barked out a laugh. "I cannot tell you how mortified I've been feeling all day about this."
"Yeah, me too," I said. "I always thought my mom was kinda hot."
She twisted her humiliation inside-out and threw it back at me with a mock-punch to my arm. "You don't get to be a jerk, too. That job is already filled."
"Aww. C'mere." I opened my arms wide and she stepped into a hug, burying her face in my chest. It was the closest we'd come to a cuddle. "You have to admit, it's kinda funny."
"That I was jealous of your own mother?" For such a put-together woman, Bella could be a real trainwreck.
"Bella, when would I even find the time for another woman in my life? I've been at your beck and call every minute since I met you, even when I'm at work."
"Is that complaining I hear?"
"Never!" Time to let my cougar off the hook. "You know I'm still wearing that ugly rubber band you placed around my wrist, don't you?"
"Mmhmm," she hummed into my shirt.
"Does that not tell you everything you need to know?"
She lifted her head and looked up at me. "Should it?" I'd never seen her so vulnerable.
"Yes, it should. I'm yours . . . for as long as you want me." She hadn't asked for exclusivity, nor had she promised it to me, but I knew as the words were leaving my mouth, they expressed how I'd felt from the very beginning.
"Or until you have to go back to school, I guess."
Yes, there was that. "I'm sure I could draw it out another trimester . . ."
"No. Don't."
"What? Now you don't want me?"
She looked at me like I had three heads. "Of course I want you—more than I should—but I would never want to be the reason you didn't finish your education. You're a bright guy. Don't sell yourself short, Edward. Even I'm not selfish enough to mess up your future."
"I appreciate that." I pulled in a deep breath and pushed it out with a loud sigh. "It's not like I'm leaving tomorrow or anything. Classes don't start for another six weeks."
Her grin widened. "I can torture you an awful lot in six weeks." The universe seemed to have realigned itself: Bella had found her solid ground once again, and I was right back under her thumb.
"Speaking of torture," I said, "that . . . lip thing that happened this morning . . . was like kissing one of the red snappers in the fish case."
Amusement lit her face. "Please tell me you haven't been molesting the fish at work! I think I'd have to report you to the ASPCA for cruelty to animals."
"Cruelty, huh?" I tightened my arms around her and tugged her into my body. "Is that what you think of my kisses?"
She dropped her head back, exposing her beautiful neck. "I suppose I could give you a chance to change my mind."
"I thought you'd never ask." I dove for her neck like a vampire going in for the kill, making her squeal and giggle. I trailed hot kisses up to her ear, across her warm cheek, and connected with her lips—finally. We made up for two days of distance and doubts. We spoiled each other's appetites for jicama and steak and even for chocolate chip cookies.
Cougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougar
We made out like a couple of horny eighth-graders on the last day of school and only broke apart to cram the food into the fridge for later. His kisses were a hundred miracles all at once, but even sexier was that he'd been thinking all day about our disconnect this morning.
I peeled off his clothes right there in the kitchen and sank to my knees on the wood floor. He was so much prettier without the uniform, prettier still without the briefs. He'd kept up with the trimming—such a good, good cub—and for his efforts, I lavished his balls with some extra TLC. He liked that.
He was hard before my lips circled his cock—oh, the miracle of youth—and it didn't take long to bring him to the brink. I wasn't inclined to tease him this time, and he didn't even try to hold back; I suppose four days of edging would have taught him not to waste any opportunities.
He reached back to grip the counter as his hips started thrusting, a string of curses flying out of his mouth with his violent release. After the last blast shuddered through his body, he lovingly gathered my hair into his hands and whispered the sweetest thank-yous while I helped him back to planet earth.
He coaxed me onto my feet and kissed me while he inched the zipper down my back. If he noticed the taste of his spunk on my tongue, he didn't seem to mind. He undressed me as if he had years to finish the job, feathering kisses along my skin as he revealed each new spot, starting with my neck and shoulders. His lips trailed across my collar bone while his deft fingers worked open my bra and slipped the straps down my arms. He took my breasts into his mouth one at a time and pampered them with sweet, unhurried caresses. His lips followed my romper's slide down; his tongue dipped inside my navel, causing me to gasp. Crouched at my feet, he passed my romper and thong over each foot, dropping soft kisses at my ankles.
He rose, dragging his fingertips up my shins and thighs, through the slick slit eager for his touch, up my abdomen and over my breasts, up the stem of my neck, leaving my whole body quivering for more. Cradling my head in his hands, he pressed the most tender kiss to my lips.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, studying me as if for the first time.
I wanted to respond—he was so gorgeous in his post-orgasmic bliss—but I couldn't form words.
His hands found my shoulders and trailed goosebumps down both arms. I followed his gaze to his index fingers. Starting at opposite hips, they traced the creases to where they met in the middle and stopped. Edward raised his head, and the pleading expression he wore made my heart twist.
"May I . . .?" He didn't finish, but it didn't matter. My sweet cub, asking permission.
I nodded. Whatever he wanted, I knew I wanted it too.
Two strong hands swooped me up by the waist and plopped me on top of the granite counter.
"Ah! Cold!"
"Don't worry," he said, bending to hook his arms under my knees and slide me toward the edge of the counter. "I'll warm you up." And warm me he did with that hot, greedy mouth of his, from the outside in.
He brought me to the brink, then tipped his face up at me and smiled, chin and lips glistening with my juices. Stroking a finger across my clit, he nearly made me come with his first touch. Our eyes locked, and I couldn't look away. I never wanted to forget the way he was looking at me right now.
I'm yours for as long as you want me.
"Feel good?"
"Mmhmm."
That finger. Little circles. Two fingers. Those green eyes, two magnets drawing me in . . .
More than I should.
Pressure mounting, his grin opened into a sexy, sexy smile. "Come on, Bella. Let me see you let go."
And I did.
~#~#~
We were both too hungry to fuss with food prep beyond tossing a basic salad and throwing his steak on the cooktop grill. Kicking our clothes to the corner, we moved together around my kitchen as naturally as if we'd been doing it for years.
Certainly, speaking our feelings out loud and learning roughly how much time we had left helped our ease with each other, as did our shared lack of modesty, but there was more to it than that. It was Edward. Sexual chemistry aside, if one could disregard the bone-rattling orgasms we'd gifted each other, Edward settled me like no other partner I'd been with, certainly no other man in his twenties. Despite his stories of reckless carousing at school, what I saw was an emotionally intelligent young man who wasn't afraid of his own needs and desires. His self-acceptance and openness to try anything, to trust with his whole heart, and to give over control of his body fully freed me from worrying about who I "should" want or whether this whole thing between us was sordid and wrong.
His presence quieted my worst suspicions about myself. Alone again, I couldn't be so sure I wasn't a monster, or worse—that I needed him more than he needed me.
"Don't forget to heat up my cookies," he said, drawing his arm around my waist and dropping a kiss on my temple. "I've got your wine."
"I'm on it." I wasn't about to deprive him again. I set out a half-dozen cookies on the baking sheet and set the oven to preheat.
We grabbed our plates and silverware off the dining room table and spread a blanket across our laps on the family room couch. I seized the opportunity to introduce Edward to The Graduate. Ten minutes in, the oven pinged.
"Oven's preheated."
"So's Mrs. Robinson," he joked.
"Keep watching. I've seen it a few hundred times." I stood by the oven after popping the cookies inside. Watching Edward from behind, I could see him happily gnawing away at his steak bone, and I was struck by a powerful wave of contentment.
Beware the undertow.
Edward craned his neck to find me pulling on the oven mitts. "Smells like heaven. Are they ready yet?"
"Yes. Would you like some milk with your cookies?"
"I'd prefer beer."
The sex scene drew his attention back to the TV. I had a feeling what would be waiting for me under that blanket, and I was not disappointed when I returned to his side.
He groaned as the warm cookie met his tongue, and his eyes fell closed with the bliss of chewing and swallowing his first bite. "Best fucking cookie I have ever tasted," he said, offering the next bite to me.
I giggled at his expression of pure joy. "I'd rather watch you eat it."
He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Kinky."
"Eyes on the TV, cookie monster," I said, scooting closer and placing my hand on his thigh. His erection bumped up against my knuckles. Yeah, my boy was enjoying himself, all right.
Edward took it as a challenge to stay focused on Mrs. Robinson's seduction while I casually fondled him under the blanket. He entertained me with a running commentary on the movie: "I think that Elaine is gonna be a problem," well-timed "dun-dun-duns," and a giant, "Oh, no he didn't!" at Benjamin's fist-banging on the church doors.
"Well, that did not end well for Mrs. Robinson," he said with a final sigh. Behind the playful remark, I thought I detected a note of sadness, and I wondered if that was for me.
"Nope." It never did.
Edward examined his fingers and licked a last little glop of melted chocolate off his pinky. "You wouldn't happen to have a daughter I don't know about, would you?"
I gripped him in earnest, drawing a moan. Part pleasure, part reminder who was the boss here.
"No spawn for this lady," I said. "But for the record, if I did have a daughter, she'd be way too young for you."
He huffed. "Fair point, considering you're obviously nowhere near your peak."
My hand paused mid-stroke. "Getting a little fresh now, aren't we, cub?"
A wide grin broke across his face. "Sorry."
"Hmm, why don't you look sorry?"
"You called me 'cub' again," he explained, his smile even bigger now. "First time in two days."
Warmth spread through me like a shot of whiskey sliding down my throat. Once again, I was overtaken by that gooey affection that had led to the impulse to bake those cookies, and it was even stronger after Edward's tenderness tonight. Not only had he noticed the shift, he cared about it. If I'd underestimated Edward, that was a mistake I would not make again.
I pushed aside the blanket and climbed onto his lap. Pumping him with my hand, I leaned in and kissed him. He tasted of chocolate and sugar and steak and beer, sweet and savory mingled together on his tongue. I drew back to watch his placid grin tense into a hard slash with his growing arousal, the playful twinkle in his eyes turned serious.
I slipped one finger under the rubber band encircling his wrist and snapped it against his skin. He let out a hiss.
"You are my cub, aren't you?"
"Fuck! Yes!" His eyes narrowed. He thrust his hips toward my hand.
"Go ahead, cub. Fuck my hand if you want."
He threw his head back along the couch, pumped his hips, and prepared to explode.
"Or . . ." I squeezed the base of his cock until I had his attention. He turned wild eyes on me. I'm not sure he could've formed words, so I filled in the blanks for him. "Or you can get up and walk to the kitchen and open the drawer next to the refrigerator and bring me a condom. And then you can fuck my pussy instead."
He stared me down while he processed my offer, blew out a harsh breath, and gave me a sharp nod.
"Want me to let go?" I asked.
"Yes," he croaked out. "Just give me one second?"
I gave him a soft kiss on the lips and released his cock as I rolled off his lap.
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, cub."
Even through his frustration, he gave me the sweetest smile. "Never, Bella."
Author's Note: Aww, who'd'a thunk our cocky cougar was a melted chocolate chip inside? What is that cub doing to her? Looks like the clock's ticking on their... whatever it is they have.
Extra cherries on top for chayasara for whipping this chapter into shape at warp-speed so I could post in time for TFMU 2019! See you in St. Louis!
XOXO
~BOH
