VampyClaus
Warning: some might find this somewhat offensive. If you are seriously offended when reading about various sexual activities and perhaps, perversions, ya might want to hit back on the browser. If you are not old enough to read or buy porn, stop here.
When we finally kiss goodnight,
How I'll hate going out in the storm!
But if you'll really hold me tight,
All the way home I'll be warm.
"I fucking hate Christmas," Edward muttered under his breath as his ears were assaulted by overly cheerful mall music. It wasn't that Edward hated Christmas. He hated malls. And children. And running children with Cheetos-stained fingers that invariably found themselves attached to his starched white oxford. And pot-bellied, semi-drunk Santa Clauses jeering him as he meandered helplessly from store to store.
"Fuck you, Santa," he cursed unintelligibly as Mall-Santa #3 asked him if he was ever going to 'stop pacing and just bite the bullet and put a ring on her.' The old man was clearly intoxicated and possibly insane.
What the fuck does one get for one's boss for Christmas? he thought dolefully. One's boss that one is fucking. A lot, he corrected with smirk, suddenly very pleased with himself.
He had no idea what to buy Bella for Christmas. There were a handful of items he knew, with no doubt whatsoever, that she appreciated. 1. She liked orgasms. 2. She really, really liked orgasms. In fact, she told him so on a regular basis. 3. She clearly enjoyed expensive, slutty lingerie. 4. She got off on sucking dick and was exceptionally skilled in that respect. And 5. She liked bright, neon-colored band-aids. Edward liked all of those things as well.
But none of those things were really appropriate gifts for public unveiling. While the band-aids were a possibility, first-aid didn't seem like a festive gift.
The purpose for his shopping adventure was to satisfy a work-related conundrum. His department had this ridiculous tradition in which colleagues picked names from hats and exchanged gifts at the traditional Friday afternoon 'Winter' luncheon. This year, lo and behold, whose name did Edward pull from the hat? Of course, Bella Swan: cocktease extraordinaire and sexual paramour. And boss.
Last year, Edward had drawn Rosalie Hale's name from the hat. He'd purchased for her a very expensive and technically sound calculator, one that he himself admired and desired. He'd regularly noted her penciling long strings of letters and numbers together while sifting through her journals and thought she could appreciate the fine piece of mathematical machinery. When he'd stridden out of the electronics store, he'd proudly gloated to himself that it was the perfect gift, one so perfect that it just might give him a slight chance with her.
Edward hadn't realized until Emmett McCarty informed him months afterward that those journal articles contained some form of women's surveys or quizzes. Whatever that meant. His journals certainly had no quizzes, so this information was puzzling. But then a week later, while leaning over her desk as she fished out a pen for him, he saw the dust-covered box, apparently having never been opened. He obviously had no clue what duties Bella Swan's assistant performed.
But he didn't think Bella Swan needed a new calculator, despite that fact that she probably could appreciate it much more than her secretary. Slyly, he thought, What she needed was a good fucking. Again. That was something that he definitely would be more than happy to oblige her with.
They had been quietly dating, or fucking, or whatever one might call it, for a month and a half, ever since that heavens-blessed Halloween party of Emmett McCarty's. Some days, it was a quick after-work wham-bam fuck and duck. Other times, one would sneak into the other's house for hours-long, all-night events. They would wake in the mornings in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, sore, bruised, and exhausted. He considered those nights to be the best ones of his thirty-two years.
In his limited experience, Bella Swan was bar none, real or fantasy, the finest lay he'd ever had beneath him, or on top of him, or bent over his desk, or over her desk, or anywhere, really. She was petite and beautiful with pale, silken curves that set his dick on fire. Clothed or unclothed, her body was divine. And unlike any other woman before, she had a brain that demanded his attention, and her mouth fascinated him in every way possible.
She could tease and control him in one moment like the ultimate seductress she was, only to then literally beg on her knees like a wanton wanting harlot for him to fuck her in the next. She knew his obsessions and by some twisted sense of fate, got off on the same. Her body was littered with his marks, carnal marks of possession, and he had been privy to the taste of her more than once, albeit not from the same method as he had that first night. In exchange, he took it as his mission in life to send her body to the highest peaks of pleasure.
He still could not fathom his good fortune but Edward was not one to question the gift he'd been presented with. Bella Swan was the epitome of the darkest depths of his desire and she reveled in his debauchery. In truth, she was quite the active participant. She goaded it, tantalized it, exacerbating his already wicked tendencies. And he worshipped her for it.
But he was procrastinating. The party was only days away, and he was lost, wandering mindlessly in his own personal hell on earth. Grumbling incoherently and cursing the blaring Christmas tunes, he made his way from one end of the mall to the other, hoping to find some spark of inspiration.
A book? God, no. That was remote and very unnecessary as her personal library rivaled a small bookstore. He'd learned about her library the day following their second coupling - over his office desk, no less! - when he'd roughly taken her against her cherry-stained bookshelves. It'd taken them half an hour to re-shelve and re-organize all of the fallen books afterward. But he'd been impressed that her inventory was nearly as expansive as his. There were differences, however, in taste. His collection was comprised primarily of biochemistry and pharmacology texts, and, of course, there was the corner reserved for his rather impressive anthology of vampire literature. Hers held the expected compendia of hematology tomes, but to his surprise, he'd discovered that Bella was an aficionado of rather dark gothic literature. Well, that really wasn't so surprising.
Lingerie? Yes, of course. He'd purchased her several pieces already. After accidentally damaging more than one set of her pricey Agent Provocateur unmentionables in their haste to disrobe, he'd decided that he should probably supply her in this regard. After all, he was the one enjoying the view. And too, if he were to get overly consumed again, he wouldn't feel guilty at all. But Bella's naughty underthings were not for co-workers to see.
Kitchen or stemware? Well, they did manage to smash her crystal wine glass set last weekend. Their foray had led them to the kitchen in search of edible accessories. But they had gotten carried away, unable to wait or take the time to walk down the hall to a more appropriate fucking locale. Her breakfast table presented itself to be the exact height he'd been searching for, and their enthusiasm had taken its toll on her glassware. Regardless, stemware might appear strange at a work event. He was already regarded as strange enough as is.
Interrupting his internal debate and reverie, a pair of long, thin legs drew his attention. Admittedly, the smooth, bare thighs were what pulled his eyes from the path in front of him, but the leggy blonde's wrist quickly diverted his interest.
Perfect, he joyously thought, a broad grin spreading across his features, setting his emerald eyes alight in anticipation. Now, I can leave this fucking hellhole.
~O.o~
Edward spent the evening carefully considering their upcoming date, scheduled after the 'Winter' luncheon on Friday. This would be the eighth date in the last two weeks alone. She was an insatiable creature, not that that bothered him in the slightest. He could happily fuck her nine times per day and never tire of her.
Two nights ago, in the throes of release, she'd hinted at a more specific request, something that would require him to venture farther out of his natural character than he had before. Considering what she allowed him to partake of, he could hardly deny her. No, he wanted to give her anything she desired. But he needed to research the matter first. After all, studying things was what he did best.
While he had effectually commanded her body since the inception of their intimate exchanges, it was not something that came easily or naturally to him. The fact of the matter was that in public and, in most cases in private, Edward was self-effacing and rather shy. For some inexplicable reason, with Bella, he was able to leave that persona behind, instead to assume a personality that he'd borne witness to in many a fantasy, but before her, had never been capable of in real life. Edward had the distinct impression that she wanted more in that respect.
Evidence?
She liked being manhandled. Whenever his grip on her hips relaxed or fell, she shimmied her ass and demanded through gritted teeth for him to correct the matter. If anything, she begged for his already bruising hands to tighten. A week ago, she'd giggled in delight when he'd nearly thrown her over the couch.
She liked a little pain mixed with pleasure. She had fucking nipple rings that she offered up to him to pull on. She craved being bitten and marked and bruised and bled. He'd once bitten into the meat of her shoulder hard enough to bring blood, and she'd whimpered, not in pain, but in pleasure. In fact, she damn near orgasmed every time his teeth touched her skin.
She dripped when he made her beg. Inexplicably, naughty words of debasement compelled her body to twitch and tremble. Well, his mind in particular could certainly conjure up all varieties of depravity if she so desired it.
Finally, last weekend, in the same over the couch session, she had writhed and wailed like a cat in heat when he'd finally had the nerve to restrain her hands with his own. Therein lay his contemplation.
But how to approach her? he pondered. Could it be so simple as to say, "Bella, I'd like to tie you up and fuck you senseless. And maybe spank your little ass a bit. What do you think?"
The evidence was there. Considering, she'd probably be game, he concluded.
The whir of the laptop fan interrupted his mental abstraction, reminding him of why he'd flicked it on in the first place. Edward knew exactly where to search. Up until recently, he'd been quite the regular visitor to some select sites. But he'd never before perused for educational purposes rather than recreational.
Restraining himself to pure observation was more difficult than he realized it would be. Watching the flitting images of various states of libidinous play was a delectable torture. Every gasp and labored grunt called to mind Bella's voice crying out his name in ecstasy. Every arch of a back reminded him of her luscious mounds of flesh raised up and pressed against his hips. Five minutes in, he was rock hard, eyes closed, and feverishly beating off to one of his favorite images, Bella Swan on her knees with her mouth wrapped around his cock.
He came hard, harder than his normal self-induced orgasms. Edward was slightly disappointed, as coming to images of Bella never could eclipse coming inside of Bella. Nevertheless, he was sated to the point that he could objectively scrutinize for didactic content. Minus sound.
~O.o~
After a long forty-eight hours, Friday finally arrived. Edward surreptitiously crept down the hallway to his office, small, red-wrapped and bow-adorned box in hand. It was early, but he didn't want to risk a run-in with Emmett McCarty. Considering his frazzled state, he didn't think he could handle Emmett's incessant ribbing.
A few weeks prior, Emmett had somehow deduced that Edward was, as he'd termed it, 'bagging some pussy,' and he'd been hounding him ever since for details. As if there were any possibility of him disclosing anything of that nature to Emmett!
Opening the door, he paused in his tracks, confused and stunned. Someone, probably Rosalie, had transformed his entire lab wing into a ludicrous North Pole display. What the fuck? he thought as his eyes took in the splattering of greens and reds veritably covering every possible inch of the walls and office doors.
"Fucked up, ain't it, Stan?" a low baritone called from behind him, startling him from his absorption.
"Goddamn it, Emmett! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he snapped.
Emmett's deep guffaw echoed down the hallway. "Nah, man. I couldn't help it. You looked like a statue there. It would seem that Rosie pulled out all the stops this year."
Over Emmett's shoulder, he caught a glimpse of sheer black stockings and dangerously high heels clicking their way toward them. Her figure-hugging skirt was appropriately fashioned length-wise. But the slit up the thigh, which when her leg strained forward revealed a hint of lace and garter snap, was simply cock-raising. And her thin, festively, deep red silk blouse accentuated the slightness of her waist and fullness of her breasts, not to mention the small rings he knew decorated her nipples.
Of course, this was all intentional, down to the swept up messy twist of her mahogany locks. He knew that if he were to carefully inspect the exposed long expanse of her neck, he'd be able to see the edge of the faint scar from his teeth. Her skin was pale enough that it was only discernable if one knew what one was looking for. He knew that scar well. Every time they fucked, it grabbed his attention and it only served to spur him on.
Fuck, he groaned internally as the always-reliable twitch in his pants responded. He was immediately grateful that he'd chosen boxer briefs today rather than his normal boxers. He'd suspected that Bella would sex herself up today. Early on, his highly tuned analytical abilities had immediately apprehended that date days brought out her inner succubus, more so than usual. Those days, it took every iota of his self-control to not ravage her on sight.
Recovering quickly, he straightened the knot of his tie and pressed his wire rims up on the bridge of his nose. "Dr. Swan," he said in polite acknowledgement. He really wanted to lick her and slide his hands inside of that devilish slit in her skirt.
"Gentlemen. Good morning," she returned. "I hope you're planning on attending the luncheon this afternoon?" she said, one perfect eyebrow arched in inquiry.
"Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't miss it for the world," Emmett chuckled.
"Oh really, Dr. McCarty? Pray tell," she returned with a sugary tone and a smirk. "I don't suppose that you drew the name of a certain blonde, now did you?" Her chocolate eyes sparkled in amusement.
"Uh-um, erm, well, yes. How did you know?" he stammered. It was a rare occasion that Emmett McCarty's nerves showed. To Edward's delight, Bella was usually the one that seemed to bring out the ruffled teenage boy in him. Since she'd learned about Edward's misfortunate tendencies to clam up around Emmett, not to mention Emmett's ongoing affair with her secretary, she seemed to take special entertainment in torturing him. To Edward, it was enjoyable revenge for perpetually being on the receiving end of Emmett's taunts. It was reprisal in an albeit passive-aggressive form. But that was no matter. It did not concern him in the least that Emmett didn't realize the whys and wherefores of his persecution.
"Lucky guess, Dr. McCarty. I don't suppose you have a status update for me? I'm still waiting on those slides."
"Oh, yes, ma'am. I'll have them to you before lunch," he said nervously, clearly having forgotten the presentation that he'd been asked to provide.
"Dr. Cullen, have a moment?" she clipped once Emmett had escaped and rounded the corner.
"For you, Dr. Swan? But of course. My office or yours?" Edward asked with a knowing smile.
Her bottom lip sucked between her teeth, and the delicate silk of her blouse strained against the nearly imperceptible hardening of her nipples. His mouth watered at the sight. But forcibly ignoring her physical lures, he brushed past her, heading down to his office at the end of the hall. Hearing the following click of her heels, his lips twitched as he unlocked the door and walked over to his desk.
It was still very early, so the halls were virtually empty. In fact, it was an oddity that Emmett had been there. Although as Edward considered the situation, he surmised that it had more to do with Bella's secretary's punctuality than his work ethic.
Feigning nonchalance, he stood behind his desk, one broad hand splayed across the wood grain, eyes trained to his computer booting up. He hoped that his efforts in impassivity were proving successful. Well, now is as good of a time as ever to see how she reacts, he nervously reasoned. He took a deep steadying breath and resolved to commence his seduction.
"Shut the door, Dr. Swan," he said firmly, still not making eye contact. "And lock it."
As he heard the latch of the bolt, he slowly glanced up to find her looking demurely at him through her long lashes. Fucking beautiful, he thought.
A brief flutter of nerves assaulted his stomach. Pushing aside his momentary apprehension, he ordered, "Come here."
She said nothing, but her hips immediately swayed to the spot on his desk to which he'd pointed. Instead of meeting her there, however, he sank into the cushions of his leather office chair and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other in casual disinterest.
Edward propped his elbows on the armrest and looked at her across templed forefingers. "Spread them," he commanded quietly. His emerald eyes burned into hers and to his cock's enjoyment, he heard a soft gasp escape her parted lips.
"Isabella? Did you not hear me? Spread them," he repeated evenly.
In compliance, her knees stretched apart as wide as her fitted skirt allowed. Her breathing was erratic, and he could see her breasts swell in her blouse. Edward soared as he realized that she was aroused.
With bolstered confidence, he instructed, "Unbutton your blouse and let me see your tits."
"Aren't you go-," she started.
He interrupted her sharply, "I didn't tell you to speak. And no, I'm not going to touch you. Yet."
Continuing, he purred in a low, sultry voice, "But if you don't get that goddamned blouse out of my way, I'm going to bend you over and spank your pert little ass."
Her eyes widened innocently and her tongue traced her lips. Quickly, her fingers nimbly unclasped the row of pearly buttons, revealing one of his favorite bras, black and heavy on sheer lace. He could see the glint of silver metal underneath. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he chanted, fighting the growing bulge threatening to burst from his slacks.
"Now, hike up that skirt so that you can properly spread your legs. How do you expect me to see your wet pussy with all that fabric in the way?" Edward asked cockily, eyebrows arched.
He not quite moaned at the sight of her skirt gathered around her waist and her thighs spread wide for him. The smooth insides of her legs were glistening with her arousal. He battled the urge to bury his face between them.
In a husky voice, he ordered, "Lean back and touch yourself."
Another gasp echoed in the room, and her face registered surprise.
"Now, Isabella. I'm not going to tell you again. I don't appreciate impertinence."
With shock still evident, she obeyed, leaning back on one elbow, and hesitantly brought a hand to her front. Eyes locked on his, she slipped small fingers underneath the wisp of cloth covering her slit.
"Pull your panties down. I want to see how wet you really are."
Bella slid her panties down around her knees, and returned to timidly stroking her folds, spreading her wetness across her skin.
"Fuck! You are so wet. Pleasure yourself," he muttered.
As she began circling her clit, Edward's hand slipped down to his slacks, tight from his arousal. Her eyes closed and an involuntary groan sputtered from her lips.
"No noise. If you can't be quiet, I won't allow you to come."
She whimpered at his demand but eagerly slid two fingers inside. Laying back, she brought her second hand to maintain friction against her clit as her pumped herself.
From his vantage, Edward could see the building tension on her face. She bit her bottom lip to stifle her moans, and her breathing was harsh and heavy. A glean of sweat speckled her brow as she furiously worked her hands. Her breasts bounced in the tight, black lace. His cock was hard and begged for release.
After a few long moments, he relented to his own desires and strode over to her. Placing his hands on hers, he stilled her actions. "You've been a good girl. Allow me."
His long fingers replaced hers, plunging deeply inside of her. He crooked his knuckles to graze the pebbled spot that he knew she'd been desperately trying to reach. His expert hands worked her over, simultaneously rubbing into her clit and coaxing her from the inside. His other hand dipped underneath the black lace covering her breasts and flicked the metal rings affixed to her nipples.
She breathed a pounding rhythm, and her lips opened in mute screams. As her muscles clamped down on his fingers, her eyes rolled back and she released a soft, keening sob.
Giving her a chaste peck on the forehead, he then settled back into his chair, satisfied with her response, and quietly waited, allowing her a few moments to come down from her high and to collect herself.
"Did you enjoy that, Isabella?" he asked, jade eyes scorching. He knew that she did. That had been one of the most powerful orgasms he'd felt from her.
Still panting, she nodded. "What can I do for you?" she asked breathlessly.
"Nothing for now. I'll have my way with you tonight. You need to get to work," he smirked.
Confused, she just nodded as if in a daze. As she buttoned her blouse, her eyes flickered to the small red box on his credenza.
"Whose name did you pick?" she asked with obvious interest.
"Wouldn't you like to know!" Edward exclaimed playfully. "I'm sure she will like it."
"She?" she asked. If Edward read her correctly, he thought that she sounded... jealous? And that pleased him more than he thought possible. God only knew the evils he'd thought when he saw her speak to his male colleagues, he recalled.
He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile, the one that he'd learned affected her sensibilities for one reason or another. As she departed his office, he thought that he heard her mutter a curse underneath her breath.
~O.o~
The catering for the luncheon was mediocre at best. Edward didn't like seared tuna, having read far too many journal articles on mercury build-up in the fatty tissue of fish. He couldn't imagine how anyone could stomach it after seeing the statistical analyses and proof he'd reviewed. But he wasn't fond of prime rib either, preferring leaner cuts. He settled on the lone vegetarian dish, a lukewarm, bland eggplant pasta of some variety.
But he was too nervous to eat, so the lack of selection was not a problem. He was suddenly unsure of how Bella would accept his gift. He was agitated to the point that he could barely control the bouncing of his legs or the staccato of his pulse. As the renta-Santa passed out the gifts, his breathing came in rapid bursts. Luckily, before he reached hyperventilation, his eyes finally fell on Bella's upturned lips as she realized Edward's little red box had been intended for her after all. She rose from her place across the wide U-shaped table, and came to sit by him.
"You are certainly the sneaky one," she murmured as she toyed with the paper. "Should I really open it here?"
Edward gave her a reassuring shrug, hoping no one noticed anything more intimate than a typical employer-employee exchange.
Underneath the neatly folded paper, Bella found a small, antique burled wood and hinge-lidded desk organizer with an ivory inlayed medical design. It was small, approximately large enough to hold business cards and a few knick-knacks. What most would not recognize was the fact that it was, indeed, very old, dating to around the turn of the century, and was in pristine condition. The box itself was easily worth more than half of the other gifts in the room, perhaps all combined. It also perfectly matched a companion piece Bella owned and displayed in her office.
With a slightly puzzled expression, she exclaimed, "It's lovely, Edward. Wherever did you find it?"
Looking around and finding no ill-placed stares, he cast his eyes downward and mumbled quietly enough that no one but Bella could hear, "That's not the real gift. When you're sure you aren't being watched, look inside."
With that, he rose and said politely, "Merry Christmas, Dr. Swan."
Eyes bewildered, she stood up to courteously shake his hand, "And to you, Dr. Cullen. Thank you very much. This is a remarkable and perfect gift. Are you heading home now?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have a guest visiting tonight," he returned with a smile.
~O.o~
Five minutes until the appointed time, Edward paced the wide wooden planks of his formal room. He hadn't heard from Bella at all and thus assumed that she still planned to pass the night with him. He hoped that he hadn't fucked up whatever it was that they shared by his second gift. Two minutes until seven, the clang of his doorbell interrupted his motion.
Unable to pretend indifference any longer, he wrenched the door open, only to reveal Bella Swan, flushed and bright eyed. Before he had a moment to evaluate her appearance, she uncharacteristically launched herself at him in a fury of lips and hands. Her legs wrapped around his stunned form, giving him but a moment to grasp her thighs to hold her up.
He groped her ass roughly, kneading her skin as he pummeled her lips with his. Teeth clacked and clanked and tongues invaded mouths. Still holding her small body up, he kicked the door shut and sprinted back to his bedroom.
"In a hurry, Dr. Cullen?" she asked with a sly smile.
"What did I tell you about impertinence, Dr. Swan?" he returned coolly, setting her down and pulling his hands away from her body.
To his satisfaction, her breath sucked in sharply. "I apologize, sir," she murmured softly, eyes downcast.
His dick jumped. Fuck. Now that was unexpected, he thought wildly. His mind raced through all of his previous study and compared it to her reaction from earlier in the day. Oh, yes, he had most assuredly come to the correct conclusions.
"On your knees, Isabella. It's time you returned the favor from this morning," he ordered confidently.
The next sound he heard was the muffled thud of her knees hitting the carpet. He gazed down to find her shyly looking up to him, awaiting his next instruction. Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck, his mind clamored.
"Go ahead. Unzip me and pull it out."
Agile fingers instantly appeared on his pant seam, and in a fast second, his cock sprung free, taut and extended. Her eyes found his again, silently begging for command.
"Do you want my cock in your mouth?"
"Yes," she whispered.
Edward's brow cocked, and she corrected herself, "Yes, sir."
He smiled, and replied, "Then take it, suck me off."
Eagerly, her mouth was on him, sucking and licking. Her tiny hands came up and cupped his balls, massaging gently as she twirled her tongue around his head.
"Fu-u-u-ck! God, yes," he groaned. His hands came up and knotted in her hair, bringing her mouth down on him faster. Her teeth lightly raked down his length, eliciting loud grunts and gasps.
She squeezed his dick, spreading saliva down his length, and began vigorously bobbing her head and hand. His mind rocked as waves of pleasure rolled through him. So fucking good, he moaned.
"Ah shit! So fu-u-u-ucking... go-o-o-od. That's it. More, suck harder, baby. God, your mouth...feels so...fuck...goddamned good!"
The second pass of her teeth sent shivers across his torso, and his abdomen heated and tightened. Gripping her hair, he guided her mouth. His head lolled back as he twitched violently, sending his release down her throat. As he stilled, she slowly licked the still-taut skin, washing away residual cum.
"That's enough," he said breathlessly. He extended his hand, and continued, "Now, get up, Isabella. I'm going to fuck you hard tonight. And I'd like to try something with you. Are you up for it?"
Her brown eyes lit on fire, and she nodded in acquiescence.
"Yes? Or no, Isabella?"
She answered in an excited whisper, "Yes, sir."
Fuck, yes! Why did I even question if she wanted this? Edward mused.
"Stand still. I'm going to strip you down."
Moments later, he'd removed every article of clothing she had on. Pulling his own shirt off, he noted her eyes hungrily raking over his torso. Her lips smacked as his slacks and boxers pooled around his feet.
"On the bed and lie down on your back," he said levelly.
His eyes watched the muscles in her calves as she leapt to obey. He noted that he hadn't bitten those yet. And he wanted to. One day he'd have to remedy that. Reaching into the nearby dresser, he pulled out the long silk tie he'd set aside.
"I'm going to tie your hands, Isabella. Do you mind? If it bothers you, just tell me."
Her eyes popped, and she squeaked, "I don't mind. At all, sir." Her breathing hiked and caught in anticipation.
Grinning, he came over to the bed and expertly bound her wrists together, just as he'd witnessed in his online research from earlier in the week. He bent down and pulled one of her nipple rings between his teeth. A raw, throaty moan escaped her chest.
"Are you wet for me?" he asked against her flesh. "Do you like the idea of me having my way with you?" He pulled the other ring with his teeth.
Another long, deep moan.
Guiding her hands to the wrought iron spindles of his headboard, he whispered, "Hold on here, baby." Thinking quickly, he added seriously, "Let me know if I hurt you, ok? Or if you need me to untie you."
Sliding down between her legs, he tested her slit for arousal. To his expectation, he found that she was drenched, clearly stimulated by his attention. "Fuck, Isabella. Look how wet you are," he muttered, bringing his slickened fingers to his nose to inhale her heady scent. Taking a long lick along his palm, he hummed, "So sweet. I'm going to need to taste you for just a moment before I fuck you."
He lowered mouth level to her thighs. Nipping and sucking, he trailed from the inside of her knees upward until he grazed her folds. As she moaned, demanding more, he latched his lips around her clit and hummed. He lapped at her juices, burying his face against her skin.
Her hands jerked at his ministrations, flailing around helplessly as she writhed against his mouth.
"Isabella, behave. Or I will have to secure you to the bed. And I'd prefer not to do that as I intend on fucking you in more than one position."
"Oh, god, yes! Please, fuck, yes!" she cried as his lips returned to her swollen clit. As he'd done earlier in the day, he slid his fingers inside of her, immediately locating the rough spot of skin that she begged him to stroke. Within moments, her legs quivered and shook around his head, and her muscles constricted around his fingers as she climaxed.
Smiling, he rose up and then bent down to kiss her mouth. She took his tongue impatiently, licking her taste from his lips. Pulling away, his hands gathered her hips, and he slid a pillow underneath her ass to bring her level with his erection.
Bella spread her legs widely and she twisted, grinding herself against his cock.
"What do you want, Isabella?" he asked, rubbing his head against her overly sensitive clit.
"Whatever you want to give me, sir," she murmured breathlessly, wrists pulling against her bindings, fingers craving to touch.
He was impossibly hard, painfully so. Her words sent ripples of heat through him. He had a sudden animalistic urge to crawl inside of her and pound her until he couldn't see.
"Very well then, Isabella," he said as he abruptly pushed into her.
He groaned at her tightness and the constrictions that she was so expertly generating with her pussy muscles. Considering all of the fucking they'd done, it made no physiological sense whatsoever for her to still be this tight. But he was not so stupid as to question luck from the gods.
"Hold on tightly," he grated through clenched teeth. Bella groped above her head and gripped the iron spindles just as he thrust into her.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted her off the mattress. Over and over he rammed into her as she screamed out a rhythmic cadence of moans and grunts. His hands dug into her hips and waist, pulling her down onto him.
"Harder!" she cried. "Edward, fuck me! Oh god, fuck me harder!"
Always the pleaser, he increased his pace, forcibly jerking her body to meet his hips. Skin smacked and droplets of sweat flew from their moving bodies.
"Fu-u-u-u-ck! Oh...my...fuck! God, yes! Ungh, oh, ah!" she screamed.
"Is that what you wanted? You wanted to be fucked like this?" he panted.
Her response was incoherent, garbled affirmations as she tightened around his cock.
"Oh, no you don't! Not, yet," he demanded, pulling out.
Her hand released her iron bars, and her eyes met his in a wild half-dazed sweep. He grinned, "Don't worry, you'll come, alright," and flipped her over.
"Can you hold on again?" he asked at her ear.
"Yes, sir" she mumbled, grasping at the bars with her bound hands. Fuck, god, how did she know that would set me off? he thought.
"Good girl. You are going to come so fucking hard. I promise."
He entered her again in a quick, hard thrust. Her back arched, lifting her ass as if in presentation to him, allowing his cock deeper access. He gripped her waist, digging his fingers into her soft skin. To Edward, time lost perspective as he repeatedly slammed into her. The only sounds heard were disjointed moans and grunts, wet slaps of skin, and the loud creaks of his bed frame.
"I love seeing you like this. Do you realize how perfect you are? I love how your ass lifts up to accommodate me, the arch of your spine, the hardness of your nipples, the way you drench my cock. And I love that I control your body this way. Seeing you splayed out and helpless below me makes me want to make you come, makes me want to never leave your body. Do you want it, Isabella?" he purred.
He was answered by a low wailing groan and parted lips.
Edward reached his hand around her front and circled her clit with his forefinger. Her mounting wetness coated his fingers. "Come for me, baby. Come hard around my cock. Milk me dry," he grunted in her ear.
"Oh, fu-u-ck! God, yes! Bite... me again, Edwa-a-ard. Please! Ma-a-rk me. Bruise... me, make me bleed. Do it, ple-e-ease! God, please! Please!" she begged as her muscles began flexing. Her fingers tightened around the metal rods of the bed, knuckles white from effort, wrists pulling at the silk tie binding them together.
The sound of her wild pleading sent him into a frenzy. Oh, god, she wants it! Edward cried silently, praying gratitude to any god who might listen. His hips bucked and whipped into her, crushing her onto him. He leaned down, mouth and teeth finally finding purchase again along the smooth skin of her shoulder. Clamping down, he grunted in pleasure. As he increased pressure, he felt the mind-fucking sensation of her flesh giving in to him and then the leak of metallic salt onto his tongue. He whimpered against her skin as he sucked, tongue licking and lapping his mark.
"Oh, oh! Oh! God! Fu-u-u-u-ck! Edward!" she screamed, her pussy muscles clenching down like a vice on his cock. Her body violently shuddered and rocked against him as he pumped her until his own orgasm overtook him, pleasure so acutely intense that fire blazed across his vision, rendering him mute.
They dropped, exhausted to the mattress. "Fuck, Bella. Goddamn it. So fucking good," he stuttered, trying to catch his breath. As soon as coherency returned, he lifted himself and then quickly untied her wrists. Reaching across to the nightstand, he grabbed a tin of soothing balm. Taking her small wrists into his hands, he gently massaged them and coated them with balm. Eyes closed, she hummed in appreciation, "Hmm, Edward. Fuck, so good."
He kissed her palms. "Was that ok, Bella?" he asked.
Her eyes opened lazily, and she grinned, "Oh, yes, Edward. I've been waiting for you. God, you are so fucking sexy when you're like that."
"So, you'd like me to tie you up again sometime? Maybe a little more?" he said softly, hoping fervently that she would. His lightning mind was already contemplating various debauched ways he could take her.
"Yes, sir," she said with a wink.
After a few moments, he tentatively asked, "Did you open your second gift?"
"Yes," she said plainly, with no inflection to guide him.
Apprehension flooded his chest as he whispered, "Is it something you'd like to wear?"
"Yes, Edward. I liked it very much. More than very much, really," she said sincerely, head turning toward him, eyes meeting his. They sparkled with some unspoken emotion.
Confounded, he queried, "Then why don't you have it on?"
"Go look in my front pocket, wherever my skirt is." He jumped down from the bed at her request and found the weighty platinum bracelet he'd wrapped days earlier.
Turning the exquisitely decorated flat oval plate centered between the small chain links over, he read the script he had etched on the underside.
Each moment, Each minute, Each drop
Your siren call belongs to me
~ EAC ~
"I thought you'd like to put it on for me," she said with a smile. "So, are you marking me, yet again? A tangible, visible marking, to ward off potential suitors?" she chided.
"Yes," he answered truthfully. He clasped the links around her slight wrist and continued gently, "This makes you mine."
"A little late, eh? I thought I already was."
Edward smiled broadly. Until this moment, he hadn't understood that his desires were reciprocated.
"May I ask something?" she asked hesitantly.
"Of, course," he responded, still grinning from his revelation.
"So, do I get to lay claim to you, too?" she said with a smirk.