My Varney [2] Valentine
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.
Carefully, Edward placed the final vial into the autosampler. This was a very critical experimental run, one that if he were to get right, would put him on the map, so to speak. More so than he already was, that is. This would be awards-level success. He was so close to his goal, so close, that he believed the clinical trials to be nothing more than an exercise in law. He couldn't wait to get the results, and his chromatograph hummed in agreement.
Satisfied with the set up, he clicked a few keys, pulled back from the instrument, and prepared to wait.
"DUDE!" Emmett yelled from across the lab, startling and immediately distracting him. "Please tell me the rumors are fucking true!"
"Ahem," Edward coughed nervously. "Erm, what rumors?" he asked in a small voice. He looked over the tops of his lenses to see a broad grin covering Emmett's wide face. His beady eyes were sparkling in amusement, and his arms were flailing excitedly.
This can't be good, thought Edward.
"Fuck, Cullen! You're banging Swan! Mother. Fucking. Isabella. Swan. You are the fucking man!" Emmett rumbled. "Forget anything I ever said about your dick. It must be made of fucking gold. None of us could tap that shit. But you, you are the fucking man!"
Well, that much is true, Edward mused. 'Tapping' Bella has been my greatest accomplishment. Next to making her love me, that is. He rolled his eyes at his own admission. Goddamnit, I'm pussy whipped. So be it.
"I don't know what you are talking about, Emmett," he returned flatly as his forefinger pressed his frames up to the bridge of his nose.
He and Bella had discussed the likelihood of exposure. His fit of jealousy in New Orleans would, without question, cause them trouble. But Bella, being the calm, collected, professional individual she was, took action without delay upon their return. By Friday, he was to be transferred to another department. Well, not really. His work would remain the same, and functionally, he would still work with the same people. He would only report administratively to another supervisor. Bella was brilliant. Nothing would change, yet everything would.
"What the fuck ever, Cullen," Emmett laughed, clearly not falling for his dissembling. "Dude, if I were in your shoes, or rather in Bella's pussy, I'd be screaming it from the tops of my lungs. That shit is tight!
"Dude, you gotta tell me, how in the fuck did you manage to pull that?" he continued.
"Emmett, I have no idea what you are talking about, and even if I did, do you really think I'd tell you?" Edward asked, half amused and half annoyed.
Emmett laughed all the harder and slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him forward into the lab bench. "Fine. I swear I'll find out this shit. This is too fucking good."
Curious, Edward ventured, "Emmett, if it were true, which it isn't, how, or rather, who would have relayed these rumors to you?"
Emmett's eyebrows wagged. Like goddamned Groucho Marx, Edward noted, shaking his head.
"Let's just say there is an asshole working about an hour down I-95 who has a big fucking mouth. And I don't think that that someone likes you very much," he stated, clearly satisfied with himself.
"Ah, I see," Edward returned. "Dr. Black."
"Dude's an asshole extraordinaire, did you know that?" Emmett responded. "I think he must have a hard on for your woman, too. I don't think I'd take that shit. If some prick like that hit on Rosie, I'd beat him down."
Just as Edward counted Emmett's fourth usage of the term 'dude,' he was sidetracked. Rosie. So, it was more than simple office break room fuck sessions now, Edward smirked. Well, if anyone could tame McCarty, it'd be her.
Edward sighed, "She isn't my woman, Emmett. But yes, Dr. Black and I don't get along very well. That is very evident. He's always wanted what I have. And well, I'm usually too chicken-shit to say much about it."
"Yeah whatever, Cullen. Would you kill it with the self-hatred, man? I heard your talk down in New Orleans blew his shit out of the water," Emmett laughed.
Edward's smirk grew more pronounced. My talk wasn't the only thing that had trumped Dr. Black that week. He still could not believe his gall, however, essentially flaunting his relationship with Bella.
A squeaky inner voice began repeating his six most favorite words out of every language in which he claimed fluency, I'm in love with you. It was on replay, shuffling through his thoughts again and again. It took considerable effort to not jump up and down in elation.
But not wanting to delve any further than necessary - while Emmett could be a dolt in most situations, with regards to sexual matters, the man was a motherfucking telepath - Edward simply shrugged and mentioned his need to return to his work.
Thankfully, Emmett caught on and departed, allowing Edward to internally gloat. And to monitor his experiments, of course.
Two hours later, as he was clicking through Chemstation, naming off peaks, his lab phone rang.
"Cullen," he snapped, annoyed at the interruption. He'd anticipated it being one of his new, right-out-of school technicians, undoubtedly questioning his precursor preparation instructions. He always seemed to be the one stuck breaking in new lab techs.
"Dr. Cullen, did I disrupt you? Perhaps, I could call back later if you'd like?" a sultry, feminine voice purred.
Edward's answering grin stretched across his face. "Dr. Swan, happy to hear from you. I haven't in a while."
'A while' meant six hours ago.
"Mmm-hmm," she said. "Are you going to explain what we're doing tonight?"
"No, but logically, you realize it's Valentine's Day, right?" he laughed.
For once, he heard surprise color her voice. "We're doing something for Valentine's Day?" she asked.
If it were possible, his lips spread even wider. "I'd say so," he teased.
For the next five minutes, she attempted to pry his plans out of him, but to no avail. The sound of her voice was maddening, especially when she began attempting to bribe him for information by offering clothing and body parts.
"Well, body parts are definitely involved," he laughed. "Now get back to work, Dr. Swan."
After hanging up the receiver, his stomach was assaulted by a fit of nerves. Dinner was one thing, but it would be their first in public together as more than co-workers. The fucking was a given. And then, he had her a gift, one he hoped she would like. His earlier gift of jewelry - more marker than jewelry, he acceded - never left her wrist. Thus, his faith was bolstered, despite the leap.
~O.o~
Their Valentine's Day dinner was an indisputable success. He took her into downtown Philadelphia to Tangerine, a dark and interesting restaurant. It was a little on the swanky side - all black bathrooms and near pitch-dark dining were usually signs of 'swankiness,' as he termed it - a touch trendy for his usual taste. Its menu was creative and quite good, but the atmosphere was what he'd truly targeted. Ever the planner, he'd smartly called ahead and arranged for an eclectic variety of dishes. And he'd had the sommelier set aside choice wines for each course. All in all, Edward was pleased with himself, considering the whole dating and wooing concept was entirely new to him.
Bella clearly enjoyed fine dining, and despite his consternation of being out with her in public, he had had a good time. Having a 'good time,' being surrounded by crowds of non-science people, was not the norm for Edward. He placed the blame, or rather credit, for his fine evening squarely on the shoulders of his dinner companion. The one with the frighteningly high heels and wrap-around-your-waist thighs. Had he been with anyone else, he'd have barely eaten, and instead, would have been busy trying to look invisible. No, as long as he focused on her, he managed to ignore the incredulous stares of the masses around them, and he managed to infinitesimally relax. He had to acknowledge that the hand job in the car hadn't hurt his nerves either.
The moment they arrived at his apartment, she'd all but attacked him. In a flurry of limbs, their clothing had been removed, but for the exception of her very fine and very new playthings from Agent Provocateur. Red was new.
Her breasts were hoisted up high by an immaculately cut demi bra, with just enough sheer and lace to light a fire in his boxers. And then, over the next-to-nothing slip of panties, she'd donned this odd, half-garter-half-corset garment with garter straps. She'd termed it a 'wasp.' It reminded him of something out of a burlesque dancer's wardrobe. Instantly, he decided to buy her more of these 'wasps.'
An hour later, they lay, spread out across rumpled sheets, nearly choking for air. Both of their bodies were littered with scratches and bruises, a few breaking skin. In other words, it had been a pleasant time had by all involved.
"Edward, what do you think you are doing?" she asked, breathless and panting.
His long, slender fingers crept across her bare, overheated skin. She was slick with a potently fragrant mixture of sweat, perfume, and raw sex. Only half in jest, he'd considered how one might could bottle this particular concoction. He wondered if she'd be offended if he were to take a sample to run on his new 7000B Quadrupole GC/MS/MS [3]. He guessed that in less time than it took for him to eat lunch, he could trace the compounds needed, and then after, no more than a day for analysis would be needed. No doubt, men and teenage boys the world over would literally fall over themselves to purchase such an intoxicating aroma. Just the barest hint of it hardened him; it could be the next Viagra. Only he would come up with a better name for it. Perhaps, they could call it, 'HardOn,' or simply cut to the chase and call it 'FuckMeNow.'
He pushed up to lie on his side, propping himself upright with his elbow. Continuing his tracing along her spine, he marveled at the satin-like texture of her flesh, normally pale white, but currently flushed bright pink from exertion and blood flow. Where his fingers left, her skin pebbled and quivered. He was enthralled by her highly sensitive reflexive nature. She was such a sexual being, so readily aroused and sated by his mere touch. Without her cognizance, her body's reactions to him were the greatest ego boost imaginable.
Bella was stunning, an erotic marble statue, lying on her stomach against the cool white of his ridiculously high thread count sheets. Distracted, he mused, Why anyone needs 1000 count sheets is beyond me, but she had insisted. And therein lay the answer. If she wanted, he had gladly acquiesced. Pleasing her made him feel desired and masculine. It made him feel worthy of her affection and attention. It got him laid.
Her damp, matted hair splayed out all around her face, contrasting sharply against both the pillow and her own skin. He felt the building heat in his abdomen as he recalled how exactly her hair had gotten so out of sorts; she always insisted on his fingers being threaded in it when she sucked him off. He'd learned, too, that she seemed to appreciate it when he wrapped her hair around his fist and tugged when he took her from behind. Fucking incredible, he rejoiced.
His eyes traveled down her prone form. The curves of her body were simply mind-fucking. Her hips were shapely and feminine. Her waist was narrow, perfectly sized for his hands. Her tits were round and perky, and they begged to be groped. One of his new-found favorite activities was burying his face between them and sucking on the pink, ringed nipples. Her moans, when he did such, were deafening.
And her ass. Fuck me all day long, he groaned. Bella's ass was the stuff of which men's wanking dreams were made. It was firm and deliciously heart shaped, and infinitely spankable.
"I told you, Bella. I've been craving you all day long. And you just had to wear that goddamned skirt again. You know that slit up the front drives my dick crazy," he said, purposefully leering at her bare form.
Lazily, she teased, "Well, it's hardly my fault that you can't control your cock."
His palm thwacked against her bare ass cheek, causing her to lift off the mattress.
"Impertinance, Ms. Swan," he chuckled, chastising her in play.
Her response precisely matched his prediction. A low moan escaped her lips, humming through her chest.
His hand glided along the delicious mountain of flesh closest to him, relishing in its softness and silken texture. Kneading and rolling his hands, he groped her eagerly. Twinges of desire shot down his middle as his hardened. Her skin taunted him, and he gladly bowed to his desires. His tongue ran a long, wet line from her rib cage to her shoulder, and then, to her neck. Her breathing hitched and stuttered as he leaned into her, and nibbled along her neck, pausing to press his teeth more firmly into the flesh along the back of her neck.
"Mmm, Edward," she replied languorously.
Edward noted with satisfaction that she began to palm and twist the sheets underneath her hands, and her body curled and writhed beneath his touch. Slowly, his fingers crept down between her legs and grazed her swollen folds. A sheen of fluid coated her skin and allowed his fingers to easily slide along her slit.
"What would you like?" he asked softly.
Her head turned, and their eyes met, his scorching heat and want. His cock pressed against the side of her thigh, hard and fully distended. If he didn't get inside of her straight away, he would be in pain.
Coyly, she replied, "I don't know. What did you have in mind?"
Goddamnit, she is sexy when she plays innocent, he thought. Though, that damned woman is anything but. While her words and tone spoke one thing, her undulating body and wet pussy certainly said another. He knew with no doubt what she desired.
He grinned as he slid into position on top of her, his chest pressing against her wet spine. His cock delectably settled between her cheeks, and it was oh-so-tempting to plunge into her upon contact.
He grinded against her, whipping and slapping her skin with his erection. A low moan rolled from her lips and she breathed his name.
"Is this what you wanted?" he pressed.
"Please," she exhaled, as her hips lifted to meet his.
"What have you done today to deserve it?" he murmured, taking her earlobe between his teeth.
Her response was an incoherent groan, and her hands rose to the back of his neck to pull him down. Her fingers fisted the hair at the nape and tugged ruthlessly. As she'd anticipated, he grunted in pleasure at her wanton want; she knew unerringly what to do to provoke him.
"Bella?" he asked, pressing his teeth along his scars on her shoulder. His top teeth scraped along her skin, sending shooting stinging prickles along her skin.
"Please, Edward. Fuck me. Please," she begged, her voice harsh and raspy.
Fuck! he cried. Their little games were impossibly erotic and hearing her beg for his cock was too arousing. And she knew it. Oh, how she knew it. 'Please' was such an unfair word.
Saying nothing more, unable to delay any further, he guided his tip to her entrance and pushed in, knowing that she was more than wet and ready for him.
Following their normal protocol, he paused to allow them both a moment to adjust and acclimate. Bella's muscles contracted and clenched around his cock, almost as if saying, "Welcome. Come right in." To which, his dick's response was a glad, "Honey, I'm home!"
Despite their earlier coupling, he knew that were he to disregard restraint, he could climax in very short order, likely needing but a handful of strokes, considering her tightness. But then, it was always like that. And judging by her reaction, she would likely come even faster.
Being the consummate researcher, Edward had studied and examined her body and its reactions in inexhaustible depth and breadth. He knew every single scar that he'd made on her flesh. Each one was a testament to his impossible new reality. He knew each dimple and mole. He'd licked them all. His fingers played her with the same skill and dexterity as he played his old Steinway. He knew perfectly how tightly to clutch her hips, how hard to suck her nipples, and where to bite to bring blood.
He knew that when he placed his fingers just so on her clit, she'd moan and shudder. He knew precisely how deep and at which angle his forefinger needed to curl to hit that elusive rough patch of skin inside her pussy. In fact, he didn't even have to search any more. His fingers naturally went to the spot she so craved. He'd also learned that whenever he would graze her soft nether pucker while she rode him, she'd completely lose herself and come so hard his cock would scream in delight.
The night that he'd taken her there was a vivid and bold high point in their sexual history. He'd never have imagined that she would have enjoyed it, but fuck, if she hadn't. He'd brought her to orgasm so many times that evening, she'd barely been coherent when they finally collapsed in fatigue. The feel of her mind-bending tightness around his cock was simply unfathomable; after experiencing her pussy, the knowledge of something tighter shocked him. He'd had to set a far slower pace than she'd wanted purely due to his own lack of control.
After a moment of stillness, he began thrusting into her, slowly and steadily. He'd already taken her hard and fast that night. This time, he wanted to tease her and to taunt her for a while, much in the way her very presence did to him.
Her hips shot up and her back arched under him, granting him depth and angle. His knees dropped, sliding between her thighs, spreading her legs wider.
"Oh, God! Edward!" she moaned, as he deliberately drew himself out, only to slam back into her.
"Is this what you wanted? Did you want my cock inside of you?" he breathed, as he rolled his hips.
Such an interesting position, he reckoned. And how she loved it, being, for all intents and purposes, pinned to the mattress beneath him, spread to receive whatever he delivered. It was quite the turn on.
He grabbed her wrists in one hand, and she hissed in pleasure. His other hand grabbed her hip, guiding his motions.
"Yes, oh...Oh! Please, more!" she cried out. "Harder, Edward."
She could be amazingly loud when her attention was otherwise occupied.
"Are you sure this is...what... you... want?" he grunted, accentuating his words with pointed thrusts.
But before she had a chance to respond beyond a pleasured whimper, he increased his pace, pounding inside of her. Their skin smacked and slapped from the layer of sweat covering their bodies. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. Her hips climbed higher, and her back bowed sharply.
Finally relenting, he released her wrists and roughly pulled her to her hands and knees. In a lightning fast move, he pulled out of her and dragged her to the edge of the bed. He stood, and gripped her hips.
"Oh, fuck, you look good like this," he cursed. "God, I want to fuck you all night."
She was right there, at the perfect height. No awkward knee bending required, he could stand there and pound away all night long, ever grateful for his hours of strength and endurance training. His fingers dug into her waist and hips, undoubtedly leaving marks. But she liked it that way, so he no longer worried.
Taking not a second longer than required, he slid back inside her and began thrusting again. Not surprisingly, he found that with each forward motion, he was met with her pushing back into him, likely with every bit of force she could muster. With just enough vigor to drive her over the edge, he lightly popped the flesh of her ass with his palm.
It'd taken him weeks to progress to this stage. While biting had been acceptable from the get go, he hadn't been sure she'd be amenable to other forms of consensual assault. Why he even had to ask was a mystery.
"Harder! Edward, yes! Oh, God." she screamed.
For God only knows how long, he pumped her pussy, fighting to control his orgasm. After a third swat, he felt her walls closing around him, cinching down, and gripping his length. Heaven. This is fucking heaven, he clamored, his eyes clenching tightly shut in pleasure.
"That's it, come hard, baby. You feel so good, so fucking tight and hot." he groaned, as her orgasm crested.
Were it not for his grip, she'd have collapsed. But Edward wasn't quite done. Not pausing, he maintained a steady, hard rhythm. Bella whined and cursed, still trembling from the aftershocks. Her long, dark hair whipped around, smacking his chest.
"Again, Bella. I'm not...stopping...until you come... again," he breathed.
"Fuck, Edward! I can't. Oh, God! So, good!"
Slowly, her limp body reanimated, and he felt her body rising up to meet his drives. Over and over, he crashed into her. Impatient, he lifted her up and aligned her with his torso, wrapping his arms around her chest to hold her vertical position.
"Bella, God, yes!" he yelled out when he felt her nails reaching over him and scratching along his upper back.
He dropped his head to her shoulder and licked up and down her neck, tasting their combined sweat. His teeth nipped hard at her skin, leaving tiny, red welts.
The room echoed her piercing gasp. Within moments, Edward heard her screaming his name, and he felt the tightening around his cock once more. As soon as he was certain she had reached her climax, he loosed his restraint, and immediately released inside of her.
Gradually, they moved and settled under the sheets, wrapped in a tangle of fabric and limbs. Her head rested atop his chest, and he watched lazily as their breathing slowed.
Edward sighed, contented and exhausted, "I love you, Bella."
Minutely, she lifted her head, and kissed his sternum. "I love you, too," she giggled, recalling their tryst in New Orleans.
A brief nap later, he awoke. Thankfully, she still slept, so he could be sneaky. Quietly, he slid out from under her, and he crept from the room to locate her surprise, having hidden it earlier in the library. Within moments, he returned, and without waking her, he placed the rather large and entirely too expensive diamond pendant around her neck. Another mark, albeit a less menacing one, now decorated her flesh.
[2] Varney the Vampire was a series of pamphlets, or penny dreadfuls, that told the story of Sir Francis Varney, a vampire. They first appeared in circulation somewhere around 1840-1850 if I recall. They are attributed to James Rymer or Thomas Preskett Prest, depending on the source. I'd always heard them attributed to Prest. But hey, whatever is fine.
[3] The Agilent 7000B series is a "real" and fantastic piece of equipment, especially the GC portion. I have one in my lab. And yes, this particular instrument could actually be used for the purpose mentioned in the chapter. Although, I have to say, my sales rep probably would not be pleased that I'm using his equipment in Twilight porn.