Ruthven's [4] Road Ravage
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.
"Dr. Cullen?" Bella asked. "Would you please stop shaking? I promise it can't be as bad as you think. Plus, you're going to wreck if you don't calm down."
Edward glanced down at his hands. Indeed, Bella was correct. They were trembling. His knuckles were stretched, taut and white, across the black leather-wrapped steering wheel of his newest vehicular acquisition. No doubt, when he released the wheel, he'd find finger-sized indentions lingering from the force he was exerting.
But really, that could not be helped. Inside, he was falling apart. It was everything he could manage to not vomit in Bella's lap, or at the very least, pass out blind. As the ball of nerves resting in the pit of his stomach shuffled again, he was instantly grateful that he'd smartly decided to forego lunch. He certainly did not need office cafeteria food on his stomach at a time like this.
Not to mention, as it was Friday and during Lent, today had been 'fish day'. Blech! he inwardly cringed, visualizing the gummy, bread-encrusted, beige lumps they served in the hot plate line. Of course, Emmett had devoured an entire plate and went back for seconds.
Since the Department started dining together as a group, Dr. Swan included, Edward had learned that Dr. McCarty had an ironclad stomach and the appetite of a medium-sized horse. Watching him eat was a wonder in his voraciousness, but also, was akin to viewing open-heart surgery, messy and a touch on the side of disgusting. And he ate with his fingers, Edward recalled with a shudder. Again, he reminded himself to bathe in antibacterial soap after shaking the man's hand.
But never minding Emmett and his appetite, Edward had precisely two hours and twenty-five minutes to get a grip on himself before they arrived at the most dreaded of destinations. He still could not reconcile what had possessed him to ask Bella to accompany him. Surely, within five minutes of exposure to the madness, she'd run from him, citing risk of lunacy. He kicked himself for his moment of weakness. Surely this was an unnecessary trial for their relationship. She will leave me, and I will be left alone. Again, he despaired. And this time, after experiencing the bliss of her, it would be all the more lonely and melancholy. Stupid Edward! Stupid, stupid, fucking Edward! he grated.
"Edward? Seriously. Calm down. I'm sure she's not as bad as you think," Bella continued in the voice to which she always resorted when he launched into one of his semi-frequent panic attacks. Normally just a few words would jerk him out of his mind's meanderings. Today's episode, however, was worse than usual. By and large, his mind just spun in dizzying circles, and he'd borderline hyperventilate. He usually didn't physically quiver. But this trip was a serious error on his part and fully worthy of panic.
He surreptitiously glanced over to the passenger side, still entirely reeling from his poor decision-making abilities, but also partly irritated by her quick dismissal of his discomfort. As always, however, the moment he saw her face, his body came to rest, and his annoyance inexplicably vanished, being replaced by the equally unsettling emotions of depraved want and lust.
How she could look so alluring in jeans and an everyday long-sleeved sapphire pullover was beyond him. But those particular jeans - obviously, expensive boutique denim, even to Edward's unfashionable eye - framed her ass just so, conforming and cupping her cheeks into a delicious upside-down heart. The moment they'd walked from the building, he'd had an insatiable desire to strip them off of her and fuck her across the hood of the car. Public be damned. And that common long-sleeved pullover was really not so common at all as it was pleasingly translucent enough that he could see the outline of her body's most desirous curves. It was a shame that she'd chosen to wear a bra.
He continued his appraisal through quick askance peeks, all the while trying to maintain the car's straight path. In one such stolen moment, he watched as she casually pulled her long, dark hair up into a simple ponytail. It looked almost innocent. Yet innocent, she most absolutely was not. That particular hairstyle conjured up arousing images of him clutching her hair like a handle or reins while taking her from behind. She assuredly liked that maneuver the last time, he reflected with an amused smile. But then, she seemed to like most anything that involved his dick in her pussy. It was a pleasant and mutual understanding they had.
It was easy for him to say that he'd never had so much intercourse in a given period in his life, intercourse of the gymnastics variety at that. In fact, his once-daily masturbatory events had become nearly obsolete, rendered unneeded as he and Bella were fucking with surprising regularity. Really, the only time he bothered with self-help was at her behest. For some reason, she took an immense interest in watching his technique and purposefully provoked him on occasion. Not that he minded her watching. But then, it was only fair as he, too, took special delight in watching her please herself. That was impossibly erotic and sensual, something he naturally encouraged as it always resulted in extraordinary after-fucking.
Of course, when she pulled her hair away from her neck, he was also granted view of his most recent brand, that entirely too-expensive diamond drop pendant he'd presented to her. Edward secretly thrilled in that there was not a day that went by in which she didn't wear his ornament. Equally, her wrist was ever-adorned by his bracelet. Early on, he recognized that showing the world her other marks was imprudent, so he had settled for more socially acceptable signs of unavailability. Plus, Bella seemed to enjoy shiny things.
While no one knew that these decorations were in particular his markings, to anyone who paid attention, it was clear that she was taken. But for the exception of that goddamned Jacob Black. With regards to Dr. Black, nothing would be adequate. That dog had no moral compass and would stop at nothing to steal her - Edward just knew it. He frequently entertained himself by imagining an assortment of violent scenarios involving Dr. Black. Not that he could ever bring himself to act upon his wishes. That simply was not in his nature, no matter how much he desired it.
Regardless, the necklace and bracelet were sufficient. For now. At some point down the road, however, Edward could easily see himself adding to her collection of baubles, but in a more obvious and permanent form. That is, provided we survive the weekend, he corrected. And that would be providing I can actually bring myself to say such words without collapsing.
Returning to the moment at hand, he twisted his hands across the wheel and sighed heavily. "Bella, you simply cannot understand. My mother is certifiably crazy. I've told you of her exploits. She truly is detached from reality. And she is quite the drinker. Consider yourself forewarned.
"Fuck, I hope she doesn't try to touch you. You'll smell like tequila. And cheap tequila at that," he stammered.
Bella laughed a low, throaty laugh, one that always hummed straight to the base of his cock, and replied, "I'm sure she's delightful."
He nervously pushed his ever-sliding lenses up the bridge of his nose and huffed. "Goddamnit, why did I agree to bring you? You're going to leave me once you spend five minutes there. And we're there all weekend. Fuck!" he lamented.
And of course, he'd stupidly agreed to stay at his parents' home rather than at a hotel. Inevitably, his mother would put them in either his old room or her 'quilting room', a scary space full of oddities and stacks of colorful fabrics that were better suited in a circus tent than covering a bed. Either option would be disastrous, he was certain. The one positive was that his parents had been so ridiculously elated that he was, for once, bringing someone with him, that they never even considered placing them in separate rooms. That would have been intolerable, not to mention, inconvenient. He was vaguely considering tying her to the bed at night to ensure that she would not escape while he slept.
"Dr. Cullen? I believe you are stressing entirely too much. And you know how I hate to see you all worked up," she breathed as she leaned across the center console and licked the upper pinna of his ear. A slender hand appeared in his periphery and darted to his zipper seam, eliciting an immediate strain against his jeans. Fuck me! he nearly shouted. One touch. One fucking touch! Damn you, you cock-raising tease!
With enough pressure that he could easily detect her motions through the thick fabric, she stroked the now-growing bulge. He instantly regretted their decision to change into more suitable driving attire after work. Loose woolen trousers would be far more rewarding of her efforts than stiff denim. And of course, there was the issue of her skirt. In Edward's opinion, skirts of any sort were preferable to pants in virtually any scenario, despite the fine cut of said pants. Skirts provided ease of maneuverability and fast access. Pants could be bothersome.
Teasing him, she sucked on his earlobe, pulling at it with her teeth while her palm continued its mind-numbing ministrations. All thoughts of the impending weekend and the insanity of his immediate family took a back seat.
"Bella," he whined. "You can't fucking do this to me while I'm driving. I'm going to wreck. Or God forbid, come all over myself. Is that what you want?"
"Blow job or rest stop fuck?" she murmured against the now wet skin of his neck.
Clearly unprepared for her query, he jerked slightly to the right, resulting in a sudden vibration through the seat and into his spine from the safety grating of the shoulder. Both! he wanted to scream.
Bella Swan was entirely other, more fantasy than reality. It was as though some deity took all of his innermost and deepest desires and combined them into one, mind-fucking orgasm on legs. How he deserved her attention and affection, he could never fathom. In the world according to Edward, men like him did not find themselves with women like her, unless they were inordinately wealthy. Bella and he were leagues apart as far as he was concerned. Yet, here they were, together, visiting his parents, and by some fortuitous twist of fate, she loved him. And she loved to fuck him. Obviously.
"Hmm, I kind of like that," she taunted, cocking a brow suggestively.
Goddamnit, he cursed silently, as his mind was suddenly ripped from its self-deprecating contemplation and flooded with new visions, ones of the sexual bent that involved other vibrating paraphernalia.
They'd yet to involve accessories in their couplings. Thus, the idea quickly had appeal. Well, food doesn't count, he decided, recalling. In New Orleans, they'd spent a fine evening sucking and licking all manners of syrupy sweet things from each other's various body parts. No, chocolate is not really an accessory. It's a topping.
Deviously, he flicked his wrist again, sending the wheels careening across the grating once more. "Do you now, Dr. Swan?" he purred, abruptly assuming his favorite role, one, which in the privacy of their trysts, he was becoming quite adept at playing. But then, he should have been adept by this point considering the encouragement he received from his sexual paramour.
At that moment, he, by chance, caught a glimpse of a passing road sign. The next rest stop was a mere two miles away. Rest stop fuck it is! he laughed mutely. In all actuality, it took considerable effort to not clap with glee. He didn't believe he could ever tire of fucking Bella in new and different places, and this turn of events was unexpected. His cock was nearly bursting through the seam at the hint of such a rendezvous.
Pulling into the rest area, he noted that, to their advantage, there were but a handful of cars and it was already darkening considerably. At the far end of the parking lot, it appeared as though the lights were out, and as such, it was nearly black. Perfect! For once, Edward was thankful for the short winter days in the Northeast.
"So, what do you think we're going to do here, Dr. Cullen?" she whispered, as her fingers deftly unzipped him and began stroking the exposed smooth skin of his cock through the opening in his boxers.
He threw the gear shifter into park, cut the engine, and nearly ripped the seat belt off.
"Jeans. Off of you. Right now," he ordered, barely containing his anticipation. "I think you know what we're going to do, Dr. Swan."
Coyly, Bella replied, with just a tint of faux indignation, "I most certainly do not." Yet, she was already shimmying out of those delectable jeans.
"I'm going to fuck you, that's what. I want you here and now. And I will have you," he returned evenly, as his fingers crept underneath the fabric of her shirt and traced the white, raised marks decorating the top of her shoulder.
In the small space of the cabin, he could hear her breathing hike in rate.
"Back seat," Edward commanded. "We'll need the space."
A moment later, they'd both climbed over the seats and were settled into a compromising if found position, her straddled atop him, both naked from the waist down.
Their mouths clanked in urgency, tongues thrashing and twining. It seemed as though they were each in an all-encompassing rush to consume the other. No doubt, lips would be swollen and reddened by the time they were done. All the while his hands roughly kneaded the skin underneath her shirt, pressing and pulling at her curves. Her skin was hot, and he was trembling in desire. His cock was impossibly hard and was nestled between the amazingly warm, wet folds of her pussy, just begging for entry.
With a swift glance out to the street, Bella jerked the offending blue fabric over her head and just as quickly threw her matching lacy bra over the front seat. Shortly thereafter, he felt his shirt being lifted, as well, and he gladly allowed her to strip him of his remaining garment.
She'd obviously just filed her nails because when they raked down his chest, his eyes tightened, his jaw slacked, and he hissed in both pleasure and pain. In response, with one hand, he groped one of her breasts, tugging on a brand-new nipple ring, complete with matching jewel, while the other hand ferociously grappled her shapely ass, pressing her down against his erection.
"Edward," she moaned against his lips.
"Do you like that, baby?" he asked, pulling again on the ring and then rolling her nipple between his forefinger and thumb.
"God, yes," she moaned again, this time grinding herself against him.
"Fuck. You're so wet. I can feel it. Do you want me inside of you?" he growled. "Do you want me to fuck you until you come?"
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, as she bent her face down and nipped at his throat.
He flicked at the ring up and down and lowered his mouth to her neck. Pressing with his teeth, he said roughly against her skin, "Answer me, Dr. Swan. Do you want my cock inside of you?"
He bit down along her muscle, finding the spot that was his, just hard enough to not break skin as his palms roamed along her sides, pausing to grip her hips. With her light weight, he easily swiveled her curvaceous hips and pushed his cock against her clit.
She moaned loudly, the sound bouncing and echoing in the small space. The friction was staggering, and he could not prevent his own whimper of rapture bubbling up from his chest.
"Yes! God, yes!" she panted, as she reached down to press two fingers to her clit.
"Fuck. That's it, baby. Touch yourself while I fuck you," he grunted, grinding against her again.
Without delay, he lifted her slightly, careful in his motions to protect her head from the ceiling in the cramped space. A moment later, she gripped him in her little fist and aligned him, and he pulled her down, impaling her on his cock.
A ragged groan - hers or his, he wasn't certain - filled his ears, as her walls cinched around him.
"God, you feel so good," she breathed as she began slowly rocking back and forth.
Edward wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to handle the limited range of motion in the car. Every cell in his body wanted to lay her out, wrap her ankles around his neck, and pound away until he couldn't stand. But with only a few inches of headspace, they'd have to settle for shallow thrusts. Excruciating, he thought wildly. Slow or shallow was not their typical mode of operation. But slow, shallow fucking was better than no fucking. Any day of the week.
His mouth clamped onto her nipple, teasing her with alternating sucks, laps, and nips. He loved to tongue the slight indentions where the rings pierced her flesh, and when he did so, her breasts would invariably swell against his mouth and she'd moan like a cat in heat. So, of course, he did this routinely.
Nothing on heaven, earth, hell, or online, he added, could rival the sound of her arousal. He'd once considered if he'd actually be able to come just from hearing her. After careful deliberation, he'd concluded that while improbable, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Realistically speaking, however, he didn't think he would ever be able to only listen to her. His body would surely respond. Simply sitting by idly listening to her moans of pleasure would be sexual torment at its finest, and Edward was no masochist. That would be her, he giggled.
After several minutes of torturously sublime gyrating and rocking, unable to withstand it any longer, his hips instinctively reacted, lifting and falling, mimicking their normal fucking motion... albeit with a more restrained depth of thrust.
"Touch yourself, Bella," he demanded through clenched teeth.
She eyed him with open lust and desire, her lips parting slightly. Obeying, her fingers found her clit once more and circled in time with their motions. Her breath came out in sharp pants, and he could already feel her pussy walls twitching and flexing.
Edward pressed his palm to the dip between her breasts and gently leaned her back against the back of the seat in front of them. In that moment, he was incredibly grateful that Volvos had such roomy back seats. When he'd constructed his vehicle-purchasing matrix, he'd never considered the need for spacious back seats. How lucky he was!
In the wan light of the distant parking lot lamps, he could see her breasts and flat stomach gleaming with a fine layer of sweat. In fact, they were both slick from exertion, or in his case, from restraint. One of her hands grazed their union, rubbing furiously, and the other splayed out against the ceiling for balance. Leaning back at the angle she was, hips joined to his in a salacious 'v', she was the most beautiful sight he'd beheld. Her ponytail was barely held together, and loose strands stuck to her wet forehead. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, and her mouth fell open with unspoken screams.
He gripped her hips as his feet found leverage against the floorboard, and he began pumping into her harder, pulling her down as he pushed up. His grunts were punctuated by their skin smacking in hard, wet slaps.
"Fuck! Bella! Goddamnit, you feel so good," he groaned, as he felt her walls tightening.
At their angle, he could feel every nuance and crevice of her body. It was like they were perfectly paired pieces of a puzzle. Each time his head entered, it was like pushing through a silk knot, and it felt fucking divine. Fuck my parents' house. We'll just stay here! he begged.
Their respective orgasms mounted as their movements increased in intensity and fervor; over and over, he slammed into her with as much force as he could manage in the tight space.
"Oh, fuck! Edward!" she cried out.
With little other warning, her pussy tightened around him like a vice-grip, and shivers ran along her frame. Her expression froze into one of his favorite sights, her 'orgasm face,' as he referred to it. Cinching aftershocks rippled through her as he continued to push in and out. Within seconds of feeling her constrict around him, his abdomen tightened. Just before his thighs were ready to give from exertion and the odd positioning, he felt the familiar tremors beginning, and he sped his thrusts.
"Shit...Oh, God!" he breathed in rhythm as he came, shuddering from his toes to his fingers.
Gently, he pulled Bella's body up, chest to chest, and his arms wrapped around her slight form. After a moment, his vision returned to normal and their breathing slowed. Before releasing her, he kissed the white lines of his teeth marks and lapped at the salty sweat sheen covering her skin.
As they pulled away, she laughed, "Edward, the windows are fogged. How cliché."
~O.o~
"No, Mother," he sighed from his stool at the kitchen bar. "I don't think Bella would like one of your reverse robes. Especially not that one," he added, pointing to a folded pile of fabric in a rather scary black and white zebra print.
"They are called Snuggies, Edward," she puffed crossly. "Everyone wants one. Just ask your father. His is blue."
"Carlisle!" she yelled in a voice loud enough to wake the dead.
Edward's father was an intelligent man. There was no doubt that he'd heard her, but somehow, over the years, he'd developed the most amazingly convenient ability to tune out his mother's incessant ramblings. Edward was envious.
"That's alright, Mother. I believe you," he sighed again. Thoroughly bewildered by his mother's peculiar nature, he looked upward and prayed that Bella would stay in the shower for another two days. Other than the green and yellow flower bath stickers from the early eighties, it was a relatively safe place for her. At least he hoped. God forbid what could be lurking on those shelves unbeknownst to him.
Fortunately, they'd arrived late enough the night before that there'd been little time for anything other than nerve-wracking cursory introductions, during which, thankfully, his mother seemed almost sane. But their time together had been short, so the brief moment of normalcy wasn't expected to continue.
Their mid-drive fuck session had been a success in not only de-stressing him, but it had also served as an excellent stalling technique. Edward had been in no rush whatsoever to dress again. And of course, considering both the newness of the vehicle and Edward's slightly obsessive cleanliness proclivities, a bit of post-fuck mop-up was required. His general tendency toward leather upholstery was proven yet again to be a wise course. Sweat on cloth would have driven him batty. Leather was much easier to care for, despite its chill on the bare ass and legs. It was simply far more sanitary.
"I just love your little girlfriend, Edward! She is adorable!" his mother sang as she frosted a misshapen layer cake. With neon purple icing.
She glanced around the kitchen, eying the doorways, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "You are being... careful, you know? Your father gave you that talk, right?"
"Mom! For God's sake! I'm thirty-three years old!" he exclaimed, turning a brilliant shade of scarlet. He immediately buried his face in his hands.
Turning away from the unnaturally bright monstrosity on the counter, his mother took a long pull from a curved, silver flask and laughed, "Oh, silly boy. There's nothing to be ashamed of! Your father and I are very knowledgeable in that area. I'm sure he can give you some pointers if you need them. He's quite skillful, Edward."
"Kill. Me. Now," Edward groaned, wishing this entire conversation was some terrible, fucked up hallucination rather than reality.
But alas, it wasn't a dream. In an entirely too chipper and too loud voice, she continued her rambling, "We're just so surprised you can't imagine. What, with all that time you spent with that strapping young man...what was his name? You know, he played the trombone. Jasper? No, that's not even a real name, is it? Jason? No, that's not it... Anyway, we were just certain that well... you two were a couple. Not that we'd mind that at all. That's certainly your prerogative. But I do want grandbabies! And that... that... that is difficult to do when you're working with two outies."
He was vaguely amused at the thought of his parents' theories on his sexuality. With Jasper, no less! But the word 'grandbabies' sent him into silent, cringing, mind-shattering hysteria.
"Fuck!" he muttered under his breath through clenched teeth, barely containing a scream of terror.
"Edward! Language!" his mother gasped.
As luck would have it, his father managed to walk in just in time to interrupt probably the most awkward and painful conversation he'd ever experienced. Well, other than the night out in New Orleans when he'd effectively broadcasted his and Bella's relationship to the conference attendees. That particular conversation had been akin to time on a rack as he'd been certain that she was calling their relationship off. Oddly enough, it'd turned out to be one of the best nights of his life. This day would not follow suit, he was sure.
With an amused expression, his father cleared his voice and said, "Esme, please. You're embarrassing Edward. Play nice this weekend. You'll scare away Bella. And they won't come back to visit."
And then to Edward's sheer horror, he watched as his mother playfully flicked a dollop of electric violet icing on his father's cheek and then leaned in to lick it off. His father bent down and whispered something, obviously lascivious, but luckily unheard, into his mother's ear. It was like watching the Twilight Zone or perhaps more so, like watching a train wreck.
He started when a fragrant puff of air graced his earlobe, followed by reassuring fingers touching and kneading his shoulders. In a voice only he could discern, Bella whispered, "Am I to assume that you'll be needing a blowjob this evening?"
Still half sickened and half mesmerized by the scene in front of him, he nodded dumbly and whispered in return, "Two. I'll need two."
"Bella!" his mother screamed excitedly, pulling away from his father and darting over, fingers still covered in purple goo.
~O.o~
"I need you now," he stated the moment the door latched behind them. Without pausing, he stalked over to where she stood in the middle of the room of his childhood, and he began yanking her clothes off. Fucking pants, he grumbled.
If there were any saving grace to the weekend, it was that, at some point, his mother - or more likely, his father - had seen fit to remove all of the evidence of his high school-aged embarrassments. For the last time he'd stayed in the room, only a few months prior at Christmas, his old 'X-files' posters had still adorned the walls and the shelves had been littered with stacks of old comics and role-playing cards. And praise be to God, the Star Wars mobile that had decorated the upper left-hand corner of the ceiling had been taken down. Someone had benevolently cleared all that away, leaving a blessedly bland and inoffensive palate of beige and navy.
Of course, the rest of the house was a different matter altogether. His mother's style was...eclectic. Eclectic, meaning an egregious cacophony of mismatched colors and patterns. Additionally, amongst his mother's seemingly endless peculiarities, she was also an avid, perhaps addicted, QVC fan. While he couldn't classify her as a certifiable hoarder per se, she clearly had an affinity for contrived collectibles. If one perused her various curios and cabinets, there would be no doubt of her obsession. To Edward's untrained eye, it seemed as though she owned every Hummel and Precious Moments figurine ever created, not to mention the various collectible plates, dolls, over-sized coins, model cars, stuffed zoo creatures, and of course, he could not forget, the life-sized porcelain statues depicting his mother's long-gone dogs and cats. There were more oversized, glinted, painted eyeballs in this house than in a mall Hallmark store.
And the house was literally filled with her other projects, ranging from half-completed cross-stitching of the Madonna and Child to scrap-booking to cake decorating booklets to herb gardens to tin punch. He ventured that if he were to look hard enough, there would even be remnants of her days of 'paint by numbers'. And then, there was always the 'quilting room'. He shuddered, grateful that he hadn't toured Bella there.
Bella quirked her brow, but allowed him to strip her. In an amused tone, she asked, "Your parents?"
"They sleep like the dead. And they both wear earplugs since they both snore. Well, and their room is downstairs at the far end of the house," he huffed as he began kissing along her neck.
"You've thought this through, haven't you?" she asked, still entertained by his eagerness.
"Yes. All fucking day. The thought of being inside of you was the only thing that kept me coherent and sane."
She sighed as she lifted her neck to allow him easier access. "They aren't that bad, you know. Your mom is hilarious. Oh, and she doesn't drink tequila, by the way. She offered me Glen Livet."
"Fuck," he moaned. He pulled away and looked at her with sad eyes. "I knew this was a horrible idea. You're just waiting until I take you home, and then you're going to leave me, aren't you?"
She returned his gaze with a glare, pulled away from him, and curtly responded, "Goddamnit, Edward. I'm not fucking leaving you. When will you grasp that? Really, do you not think that I take you as is, oddities and all? As you do me?"
Now, this was purely confounding, and being confused did not come comfortably to Edward. For a moment, he forgot her nakedness and how disarmingly sexy she was when irritated. Instead, he was entirely focused on his lack of understanding when she had said, 'As you do me?' What the fuck is she talking about? he wondered. She's fucking perfect! What does that even mean?
Seeing his distress, her voice lowered, and she sighed again, "How many times do I have to explain to you that I love you?"
His nose crinkled as his lower lip sucked between his teeth, fighting off the reactionary flare of emotion. Stammering a hasty and shaky reply, he asked, "Wha-what exactly did you mean by 'As you do me?' I didn't follow that. Explain, please?"
Her lips twitched, apparently battling a laugh, "Not only do you not see yourself clearly, you obviously see me in some strange, airbrushed light, as well."
"What?" he asked, incredulous and even more confused.
Through muffled chuckles, she continued, "Edward, you really put me up on a pedestal. One I don't really deserve."
"That is not true!" he argued.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered, "Yes, it is. Trust me. Now, I'm tired of arguing with you. Shut up and fuck me, Dr. Cullen. I'm in need of your dick. Or I'll have to do something about this myself."
To which, his cock immediately stood upright and saluted, "Yes, ma'am! I'm your man!"
His mind wanted to discuss the matter in more depth, as she was clearly wrong in her conclusion. But his body had other things in mind, so he decided to address this misapprehension at a later date.
His shirt came off in a split second, followed by the remainder of his clothes. And just like that, their brief spat was over, and he had her splayed out and pinned to the mattress of his old bed.
There was urgency in their motions, both hot from lingering irritation. They kissed with wild abandon, tongues and lips mashing and melding with unspoken efforts to claim the other. Edward palmed her hips and waist greedily, groping and pulling at her skin. Before Bella could even reach his chest, he had his fingers between her legs, stroking her clit.
"Inside, Edward," she gasped.
He grinned against her lips, the first real smile of the weekend, and plunged his fingers inside her pussy, instantly curling them and finding that special erogenous patch of flesh. He moved down to her neck and licked long, wet trails from her ear to her collarbone. Bella's breath sucked in as he pumped his fingers, timed just precisely with his feverish licks and nips.
"Oh, God," she moaned incoherently, her dark eyes wide and unfocused. A rambling of garbled expletives and exclamations followed, which, of course, only made him redouble his efforts.
He loved seeing her like this, just on the cusp of orgasm. He slowed his pace, wanting to draw it out just a touch longer. His thumb circled her clit as he continued pushing inside of her. Gently, teasingly, he scraped at her skin with his teeth.
"Can't... can't fucking... scream, Edward. Fuck! Oh, God! Can't...can't... fucking...stand it. So, so good," she cried, as she reached for the nearest pillow to muffle her volume. Her other hand was desperately clawing at the bedspread as if that would somehow ground her against the shudders beginning to ripple down her spine.
"That's it, let go, Bella," he breathed. Watching her come undone was better than watching the finest porn on the planet. His cock was like a solid iron bar. He was so hard it hurt.
As always, she clamped down on his fingers, tightening to the point he could barely move them. Allowing her but a moment to steady herself afterward, he pulled her and repositioned her at the foot of the bed on her knees.
He climbed up behind her and lifted her torso such that her back was flat against his chest.
"Look there, Dr. Swan," he told her, pointing to the large dresser mirror directly in front of them.
"You are going to watch me fuck you. Don't take your eyes off of that image for even a moment. Do you understand?"
Still high from her orgasm, she groaned what he thought was an affirmative.
"Wait," she said breathlessly, suddenly regaining lucidity, and then, she scrambled out of his grasp and found her overnight bag. With lightning speed, she returned to her position in front of him, small bottle in hand.
"I brought something for you," she smiled mischievously, holding up a brand-new bottle of lubrication.
His mind vaulted off the mat and did a series of backflips. Surely not! Here? Okay! Yes! Okay! he shouted, as he took the item from her.
Typical timidity returning, he didn't want to assume. So, he stuttered, "Um, Bella? I don't think you really need that. But if you think you do, well, okay."
She looked into the mirror back at him and smirked. "Well, if you are going to fuck me atypically, then I will."
Fucking scientist, he chuckled, momentarily appreciating her creative nomenclature of anal intercourse.
"Here?" he queried, pressing his erection against her shapely ass.
"Well, unless you don't want to..." she whined, taunting him.
Wordlessly, he ran his tongue along the top of her shoulder, pausing to lap at his marks. He dropped the bottle beside them and reached around in front of her to squeeze her breasts. Her hips swayed side to side, brushing along his length.
"You are a very naughty girl," he whispered in her ear as his hand trailed down her flat stomach to finger her clit. "Very naughty, indeed."
Her head lolled back against his neck, and she moaned in ecstasy.
"No, Dr. Swan. I told you to look at the mirror. I want you to see what I do to you. And what you do to me," he purred.
Her eyes found his through the reflection, and her lips dropped open. His bright green eyes were dark with lust as they raked down her body, pausing where his fingers circled.
"So goddamned beautiful," he whispered.
Bella whimpered in reply and pleaded, "Please, Edward..."
His hand left her clit and moved to the flat of her back. He pressed, bending her down in front of him. Her spine immediately bowed into a sharp convex curve, presenting her ass up and exactly at the height he needed.
"Fuck," he murmured, taking in the sight in front of him. He wasn't quite sure where to look, at the mirror or straight down. It was a rather pleasant quandary because either way, he won.
Saying no more, he guided his cock down, and he plunged himself into her already wet folds with one swift motion.
"Oh, God," she breathed out.
"Just like this, Bella... Just want to fuck you like this first, just for a little while," he managed before beginning hard, deep thrusts.
Keeping his eyes trained to hers in the reflection, he set a pounding rhythm, pulling her back by her hips as he thrust forward. Her back arched an even tighter angle, allowing deeper penetration. Again, he couldn't stop the analogy of puzzle pieces. They fit together perfectly. He could feel the tautness and bounce of her back muscle wall with every plunge. Each time he sank into her, she spat curses and gasped for breath.
"Fuck! Edward," she bawled, almost too loudly.
"Shh!" he quickly said.
Having his parents waltz in on this little scene would be mortifying. Never mind that earlier, his mother was practically offering up his father as a sex coach. That was all varieties of fucked up. Parents and children, regardless of age, should keep their sex lives separate and concealed. It was better all around that way.
Time became irrelevant and impossible to track as they were both completely lost in their moment of union. Between the tactile sensations of being buried inside of her heat, hearing her moans, and seeing her in multiple dimensions, his mind was barely functioning at all.
Slowing enough to maneuver without his arms for guidance, Edward reached down and grabbed the bottle of lubricant. After pouring a small but still liberal puddle into his palm, he rubbed his hands together to heat the oil. Hesitantly, he stroked her ass, gradually working the oil between her cheeks and coating the tight pucker he would soon be penetrating. Each time his fingers passed over it, he felt her shiver and twitch.
Maintaining his already set steady and smooth pumping rhythm, he simultaneously inserted his thumb millimeter by millimeter. This wasn't the first time they'd played this way. Not by any means, but that never seemed to matter. Anal intercourse was a slow process, at least in the beginning. And rightfully so. He would never cease to appreciate the fact that she let him anywhere near her ass, not to mention in it. But his dick was already tingling in anticipation.
Immediately upon entry, her breath sucked in, causing him to wince and stop his inward path.
"No," she breathed. "Don't stop. Just... slowly."
Minutes later, they'd worked up to a slow rhythm in which his thumb fully entered her in counter cadence to his cock in her pussy. The look on her face in the mirror was mind blowing. Her pink lips were parted just so, and her lids blinked rapidly, eyes staring off. In the mirror, he could see how hard and pert her nipples were.
Soft moans came out with her pants, indicating her approval.
"More, Edward," she panted.
"Are you sure?" he asked, silently begging for a yes.
She smiled back at him and hummed, "Mmm-hmm."
"Make me come hard," she continued in a voice that went straight to his abdomen.
He pulled out of her as he again reached down for the bottle of lubricant. Quickly, he poured out another liberal handful of oil and worked it across her backside. Another puddle coated his cock until every inch of skin was slick.
Taking a deep breath, he positioned his head at her entry and began gently pushing against the tight muscle. Her body stiffened, and he eyed her in the mirror watching for any sign of undesired pain or disapproval.
"More," she ordered.
Fuckity, fuckity, fuckity! he mindlessly repeated as she accepted him inside of her. Too much!
As soon as his head pushed through, Edward felt the telltale pop and heard her sharp intake of air.
He could have cried from the sensation. He fought back wave after wave of desire. Every cell in him wanted to plunge into her. But that is not polite, he acknowledged. And that would lessen any chance of a repeat performance.
After several moments, he began shallow, slow thrusts, gradually working himself deeper. Several minutes later, she began rocking back against him until finally, he was completely sheathed inside.
Being inside of her like this was the most intense sensation his cock had ever experienced. Bella was incredibly tight, so tight that, even with copious amounts of lubricating oil, he hesitated to move. And the heat! It was just as hot as her pussy. But tighter!
With each slow thrust, his eyes rolled back in pleasure. And when her back arched again, just as it had been when he was fucking her pussy, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. For just a second, he forgot to move and forgot what his hands were supposed to be doing.
"Fuck! Bella! Oh, my fucking...God...so...Oh...Fuck me! Good!" he whimpered, barely controlling his volume.
He leaned over her, pressing his chest to her sweat slickened back and reached one hand around her to reclaim its position. As his hips resumed their movement, he pressed against her clit, creating the friction he knew she needed.
"Edward! God, so good," she chanted. "That's it, baby, fuck me. Take it, take me."
The tempo steadily increased, never to the force of their normal fucking, of course. That would be intolerable for them both. But her hips rolled in time, and she met him thrust for thrust. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples.
"Watch, Bella...watch me fuck you," he panted. "Do you like that, baby? Do you like it when I take you like this?"
So tight! he gasped, as he continued driving into her, unrelenting in pace.
Their sweat mixed with the oil coating her ass, leaving their skin slick and oily. With each stroke, his body slid across hers, clapping wetly.
"Edward...Yes! Fuck me, Edward! Oh, God... please! I'm so close!" she squealed.
"So, goddamned tight, Bella," he choked. "Don't...know...how much...longer..."
As his orgasm approached, he thanked God that she was close, as well. Considering the silken clamp around his cock, he couldn't last more than a few more pumps. With each pass of his forefinger over her sensitive nub, her body twitched under him, signaling her impending climax. He sped his ministrations, eliciting breathy groans and soft grunts.
"Close, oh God! Edward!...Fuck! Now!" she cried, as he felt her orgasm ignite. Her slight frame shivered violently beneath him, and her mouth dropped into a silent scream.
At that sight, he truly lost it himself. With only a handful of deeper thrusts, he exploded inside of her. His vision blurred, and bright, abstract swirls floated in front of him. His motions slowed until finally ceasing, leaving them both still and gulping for air. Prickling waves ran up and down his body, pebbling his skin.
Edward wrapped his arms around Bella's slender waist and pulled her down to the bed. His body molded around hers, and he tenderly swept damp locks of hair away from her face. His heartbeat was racing, and through her back he could feel hers matching pace. Eventually, their breathing slowed to a normal rate, and their bodies cooled.
He peppered her shoulders and neck with soft, moist kisses and murmured 'thank you's' in her ear.
"There you go again, Edward," she slurred.
"What?" he asked, bemused.
"Putting me up on a goddamned pedestal. You act like you are the only one who enjoyed that."
"Really?" he asked, truly intrigued. It wasn't even a question that he enjoyed such couplings. But could she? Really?
She lazily huffed at him, and replied sarcastically, "No, I fucking hate mind-numbing orgasms. I just hate them. I hate the debauched things you do to my body that make me quake and scream in ecstasy. In your parents' house. Yeah, I hate that."
"Pervert," he laughed, imagining her eyes rolling.
"About time you figured that out, Dr. Cullen," she smirked. "Now, get me in the fucking shower. I'm covered in oil. And I don't think I can move. Thinking isn't working so well right now either."
"Are you saying I fucked you senseless?" he laughed again, teasing her and more than pleased with himself.
"Indeed, Dr. Cullen. Shower. Now. Or no blow job on the ride home tomorrow."
[4] Lord Ruthven was one of the first fictional vampires, first appearing in 1819, in J. W. Polidori's short story, The Vampyre.