Vlad's [5] Shiny Impaler
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. Alice Brandon was officially a bitch. An evil, bloodsucking, heartless, throbbing bitch. Okay, I can't fault the bloodsucking, he corrected.
But Edward hated her, almost with the same intensity that he loathed Jacob Black. And that was something quite significant.
Dr. Alice Brandon had effectively ruined his day with her inane sniping, uninformed questioning, and that incessant and annoying finger thrumming habit she exhibited. In fact, Edward was so irritated that the one piece of good news - excellent news any other day - was nearly forgotten, buried in the depths of his ire.
Effective the first of the month, Edward would be promoted to the esteemed position of Senior Research Advisor, a position that no one had ever held at his age. In fact, he was the youngest to assume such a role by almost ten years. But then, no one at his experience level had had the wherewithal to match the demanding requirements of the job. Edward did.
With his newly appointed and highly respected national chair position in his society and the clamoring approval of his presentation in New Orleans, he was a rising, if not shooting, star in his scientific community. No doubt, the company felt the need to ensure his loyalty via bribery. Edward knew that he could name his price and would, without question, have a dozen offers within a day were he to decide to leave his job. He felt a momentary prickling of pride over the knowledge that his employer acknowledged that as truth and was taking steps to counter the temptation. Not that I ever would quit so long as Bella stayed, he thought. But they didn't need to know that.
His promotion came with a hefty salary bump along with stock options. But really, money wasn't any sort of driving force for Edward. Being alone for as many years as he had been, he'd had little reason to spend his salary. Couple that with his father's sage investment advice, Edward's bank account was quite impressive, especially for someone not destined for upper management.
In reality, Edward's professional satisfaction came from the work itself. And up until recently, he'd been able to pursue his endeavors with virtually zero resistance or supervision. What no one, other than Bella, seemed to grasp, however, was that the science was where the compensation lay, and he was fucking good at it. Edward was targeting bigger prizes than dollar figures. Again, not something the company needed to know. Only an idiot would turn down a raise.
But all of that was overshadowed by the half-heated discussion he'd had with his supervisor earlier in the day. It was half-heated in the sense that only one side of the pairing had been allowed to speak. Dr. Brandon had yelled a furious tirade of dollars and cents and other things about which he cared not. Granted, in reality, the yelling seemed to be her normal volume rather than something specially reserved for him. Regardless, he'd simply sat there, wide-eyed and frozen, too panicked to retort. His instinctual flight mechanism had rendered him mute and useless, though, all the while, inwardly, he'd been flinging rather clever mixes of derisions and epithets. But such was always the case.
It was a strange organizational structure the company utilized. If one were to really sit back and study, one would find that, despite Dr. Brandon being his supervisor, she was, in actuality, ranked lower on the grading scale, especially with his newest promotion. Edward was a good three pay grades above her. But due to her position, she held the purse strings, and as such, she held him by the proverbial balls. Bella held him by the literal balls.
"Fucking idiot," he grumbled. "She doesn't know anything! Can't believe whatever paltry university she attended let her graduate. Goddamned cow."
"Dude, what the fuck's going on with you?" a deep bass bellowed from the doorway. Laughing uproariously, the grating noise continued, "I heard your new boss is a fucking bitch deluxe. I bet you're sorry you started fucking Swan, eh?"
"Shut up, Emmett," Edward muttered, declining to look up and acknowledge him. Instead, he continued squinting down at the tiny screw he was trying to tighten into one of the hinges of his glasses. After his disastrous meeting with Dr. Brandon, in frustration, Edward had palmed his forehead a touch too forcefully, and his frames had borne the brunt of the damage.
"Holy fuck, Cullen, it's true! You are fucking her! I knew it!" Emmett giggled far too loudly, disregarding Edward's refusal to concede his presence. "That's fucking priceless! Hot damn, I bet she's a good lay! You are the fucking man!"
At that, Edward started and looked up, immediately recognizing that, in effect, he had confirmed Emmett's theory. Emmett looked smug. Snarky bastard. Hastily, Edward stammered, unsuccessfully trying to recover and save face, "Uh, um, God, no! That's not, that's not what I meant, Emmett! Fuck!"
Of course, Emmett just smirked and wagged his bushy eyebrows like some over-drawn cartoon character. "Whatever, dude. You are so tapping that shit. Fuck, I'd be singing it if I were you. I don't know why you want to hide that. You just don't get it. Like I told you, dude, this makes you like a fucking rock star, right?"
Continuing with arm movements Edward could only assume to be 'air guitar,' Emmett cackled vulgarly, "Eddie Cullen and his Magic Dick and Balls!"
Were it not for his sour mood, he might have laughed at Emmett's ridiculousness and told him to fuck off. Well, not really, he realized, picturing a scenario in which he stood up to him.
But at that moment, the stress of it all - the recent visit with his parents, the secrecy of his and Bella's relationship, and then, Dr. Brandon's bitchery - was just too much, and his resolve wavered. His shoulders sank, and he sighed tiredly. "Fine, Emmett. Yes, yes, Dr. Swan and I are, erm...dating. Please, oh God, please, just keep your mouth shut? Please?" he pleaded, dropping the miniscule screwdriver on his desk.
Emmett's beady eyes widened, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Dude! You are gone! You get that, huh? You are so fucking whipped." His laughs echoed in the office. "Wait, so that big, fat diamond that hangs around her neck. Did you give her that?" he asked incredulously.
Edward sighed again and nodded.
"Damn," Emmett cursed, scrunching his nose and scratching his head. "Rose is so going to go apeshit when she finds out."
Confused, Edward's eyes narrowed, and he squinted at Emmett's fuzzed form. "What?" he asked, perplexed.
"Nah, man, not at you. I've been, uh,...avoiding jewelry, if you get my drift. It isn't that I don't love her or anything. But I gotta keep up my manly image you know. Don't want to seem all pussy whipped. And here you go pulling out fucking rocks. I guess I need to pay a trip to the jeweler or online or something. Fuck."
"Oh, erm, sorry about that?" Edward stammered, not really knowing the correct response to such an odd conversation. Men really had no business speaking with each other about such topics. It was entirely too awkward, even more so than usual. In truth, Edward had not one iota of desire to continue this dialogue. Instead, he had a sudden urge to duck his head down and hide.
Thankfully, Emmett seemed to echo Edward's discomfort and returned to less discomfited banter. "So, Eddie, what are you going to do about that fucking Brandon? I know that that promotion dinner thing is gonna be fucking uncomfortable as hell, seeing as how she has to give you the company gift and all. And damn, she is going to expect you to say something." The last statement was uttered with an amused jerk of his lips.
Laugh, you fucking toolbag. Go ahead, Edward wanted to say. But then, Emmett's words really sank in.
Goddamnit! he wailed, recalling the dinner. Even without a mirror, he knew that his face had twisted in absolute horror.
Where the company lacked in some respects, it certainly did not in the promotion and recognition department. His new position not only came with a new title and salary, but included a rather large dinner soiree and some company gift that supervisors tended to present at such affairs. And of course, just as Emmett had mentioned, the promotee was expected to give a speech of sorts. Clearly, these speeches were not of the sort that Edward handled well. This type of speech did not involve technical data or analyses. This would be a true nightmare in every sense of the word.
"God! No!" he groaned. "I'm not going. I'm just not," he whined, despite recognizing how petulant and ungrateful he sounded.
"You will, too. Fucking Swan won't let you back out and you know it," Emmett taunted, shaking his forefinger in mock chastisement.
"What won't I allow Dr. Cullen to back out of?" an amused voice chuckled from behind Emmett's broad back.
~O.o~
"Fuck, Edward!" Bella panted, as his tongue swiped across her clit again.
Her flawless skin was a vivid bright pink, flushed from exertion, and her umber eyes were snapped tightly shut. She was clearly enjoying herself. And she was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. Fuck! If I don't want to bury myself inside of her! he yelped.
She'd already had one orgasm; therefore, this would be number two. And there would be a three and a four if Edward had any say in the matter, provided her body could withstand it. Hearing her unabashedly scream his name and hurl curses, utterly uninhibited, was...cock raising.
Moreover, he'd long ago concluded that bringing Bella to orgasm was quite probably the most ego-stroking endeavor he had the privilege of undertaking. The fact that he could make her come so completely undone made him feel... accomplished and successful. In those instances, his always-present self-deprecation wavered and he felt worthy of her, that only he could offer her something she truly desired and relished.
At present, in order to accomplish this feat, in his hand, he held a most interesting piece of equipment. It looked just like his cock, anatomically correct, length, girth, head, veins, and all. His cock, however, did not vibrate nor did it require batteries. His also did not necessitate manual manipulation. His cock had its own muscles to do the work, thank you very much!
But the goddamned thing fucking sparkled. Like glittered or something. Edward couldn't help but look at it. It was oddly mesmerizing, reflecting and refracting colorful patterns and lines from the overhead light. It was a glowing, gleaming, glittery, quivering dick. His cock did not sparkle. And after some consideration, he decided that he was perfectly fine with that.
One thing was for certain, however. This plastic peculiarity did provide a most interesting opportunity. He could fuck her with it and lick her clit all at once, something obviously impossible to accomplish if the cock in her were his. The human spine and ribcage simply would not allow such positioning even if one were to possess the odd desire to attempt.
The fact of the matter was, was that he could do many pleasing things all at once with this mechanical marvel. As he pumped this vibrating, sparkling wonder into her, he tried to determine how this scenario would be classified. Was it intercourse? Or oral? Or both? He wasn't entirely sure, to be honest. Did it count if the thing is inanimate? Or sort of inanimate, he corrected.
While it shouldn't really be of any import, he was intensely curious, and thinking distracted him from the insanely potent desire he had to shove his cock, not Mr. Sparklepeen, in her. And after all, he wanted this to be all about her, so the diversion was obliging. He did, however, make a mental note to discuss the matter after they finished.
Regardless, one thing was for certain; the vibration of the thing, reverberating through her entire lower body, was going to numb his tongue at some point.
"Please, please! Oh, God, again? Fuck!" she wailed, as her hands pressed sharply into the leather of his sofa.
As his mouth was otherwise occupied, all he could manage was a grin and an unintelligible affirmative.
God, she tastes so fucking good, he realized. Were it not for the paralyzing vibrations, he would be happy to lick her pussy all day long.
After minutes more of vigorous pumping and licking, her body tensed in her telltale signs of impending climax. Without actually having an appendage inside of her, he'd assumed that it would be difficult to detect. That really wasn't the case; her skin pebbled and shook. And then, of course, her moans grew louder and more garbled in form. To which, as per usual, his cock groaned in response.
Edward was enormously grateful for her body's quick response to stimuli. As he'd realized earlier, his mouth was growing number by the second. At the moment, it felt almost as if he'd paid a visit to the dentist. His jaw felt as though it were lying somewhere in the neighborhood of his feet. But his discomfort was easily assuaged by her continued caterwauling.
Her hands darted from the sofa cushion to his head, weaving her fingers into his hair and pulling his face flush against her. It was somewhat awkward, position-wise, and he was grateful that his nasal passages were clear, as he needed them to breath. But never would he deter her enthusiasm.
Breathlessly, she cried out, "Oh, fuck me... God, yes!...Edward!"
Beneath him, he could feel the rippling shudders pass through her shapely thighs, and again, he grinned in self-satisfaction, pleased with himself and his sexual prowess. Before Bella, he'd never experienced the kind of confidence in his skill set she elicited. Being with her, physically, emotionally, and intellectually, was everything that he'd ever imagined multiplied by a factor of ten. That pedestal argument she'd presented at his parents' home was simply ridiculous. At some point, he needed to make sure she understood her error.
Minutes later, he realized that she was spent for the evening, physically speaking, so he chucked the sparkling cock to the side. While mildly disappointed that his erection would go discontented, he was more than happy to have provided her with such pleasure. After all, she routinely performed fellatio for his benefit, and on occasion, due to unavoidable circumstances, her efforts were left unreciprocated. Well, unreciprocated in that particular moment. Edward always gave in return. That was simply what one did. It was sexual etiquette in its most basic form.
"Christ, Edward," she breathed. "Do you have to be an expert at everything you do?"
Edward glanced up from between her legs in confusion, searching for some sign of humor. But what he found was sincerity, albeit flushed and sweaty sincerity. And that was all the more puzzling.
"What? Are you delirious?" he returned warily.
Bella sighed, an action which Edward's lower half noted did interesting things to her chest.
"And that is why I love you," she smiled. "Or one of the reasons." Her blinding smile transformed into a rather wicked smirk, and she winked at him suggestively. It would have been startlingly arousing were it not for her half-closed lids, indicating sheer exhaustion.
But as it did each and every time she uttered those words, Edward's heart stopped for a moment and his breath caught in his throat. Still, no matter how often she reassured him, no matter how many times he possessed her body, he could not seem to grasp the whys and wherefores of their situation. All of his years of isolation and loneliness had ingrained in him that it was simply impossible. Yet, evidently, it wasn't.
Suspicion pricked, however. While she'd never resorted to flattery before, it would be understandable at this juncture. Earlier, after interrupting Emmett's assault, she'd offered no opinion whatsoever regarding his upcoming promotional celebration. She'd just quirked an eyebrow and smiled thinly.
Surely she would want him to attend, Edward concluded. Everyone else seemed to think it was foolish to decline. In all actuality, somewhere in some deep recess of his own mind, he recognized his folly. But his overwhelming aversion to just the mention of such casual interaction and speaking made him physically ill.
"I'm not fucking going," he said resolutely, sitting up and pulling her feet into his lap. "I recognize that you are probably trying to bribe me or persuade me. But it won't work. I- I just...no! No, no, no!"
At that, she laughed a rich, throaty laugh, clearly perceiving his reference. As he had countless times before, he noted just how intelligent Bella was in the base case. But in addition, it always seemed as though she possessed some bizarre mind-reading abilities. On occasion, her perceptiveness was more than slightly disconcerting.
Through her mirth, she managed a shaky, "Edward, I don't give a fuck if you go or not. It's your promotion and it's your dinner. It's entirely up to you."
Edward's head turned toward her, and his eyes squinted, not really believing her words. "Dr. Swan, are you attempting reverse psychology. It-it just won't work. Fucking no!"
If she laughed before, she cackled then. "Seriously? Do you really think that I'd stoop to that? As if something so obvious would work with you anyway? I truly don't care. This is your day. It is entirely up to you. Well, and of course, you'll need to share you wishes with your new supervisor."
With a loud harrumph, he exhaled. "Erm, uh, do you think Dr. Brandon will be so sanguine about the matter?"
Bella's rosebud lips twitched, as she attempted to contain herself. Momentarily, he was entirely distracted by their movements, and his mind spun out various compromising scenarios. He sighed inwardly, noting that, once more, she reduced him to a distracted, quivering puddle at her feet. Will it ever stop? he questioned. Will there be a point in time where she doesn't disarm me so wholly? He shook his head. I fucking doubt it.
"As much as I'd like to tell you otherwise, I can't lie to you. Somehow, I don't believe she will take my outlook. In fact, knowing Alice, she will probably take it as a personal affront. After all, supervisors are typically the ones that arrange such affairs. And I have it on distinct authority that she is rather looking forward to planning your gathering."
Edward's expression withered, and his fingers raked through his mangled hair in discomfort, as he contemplated her words of warning. Fuckity, fuckity, fuck! he moaned. I'm going to make this worse because I can't fucking function in public. She's really going to fucking despise me now. As if I needed anything else to make her hate me. And she'll probably take all of my funding. Goddamnit!
Edward wasn't naive. Not at all. From experience and years of careful observance, he knew that one often had to appease supervisors in order to gain what one really wanted. The relationship was symbiotic. Even the ones not involving fucking. Give and take, scratching of backs and all of that. Fucking garbage, he spat sourly. Why can't people just keep to the science?
A quick cost-benefit analysis swayed his decision. A speech or funding. That was what it boiled down to: his personal well being versus research support.
"So, if I relent and give her what she wants... do you think she will back off? Perhaps fire that nitwit of an assistant she assigned me? Maybe return some of my funding?" he said in a pained voice, one closer to that of a whimper than to anything of solidity.
~O.o~
Just outside of the banquet hall, Edward paced a furious track as he waited for Bella to return from the powder room. He was exceptionally uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. His suit was cut too tightly, or at least that was the way it felt at the moment, and his tie felt as though it were strangling him. The suit's color was all wrong, and the shade of the tie made his eyes boggle and roll. What possessed him to venture outside of his normal charcoal and black, he did not know. But a black suit and red tie? Who am I kidding?
Bella had assured him that he looked fine. Well, really she'd thrown out preposterous terms such as handsome and fuckable. But Edward was certain that she was just trying to calm him and bolster his frail and tentative hold on himself.
The blowjob helped, of course. Prior to her intervention, he'd been worse off than he'd been during that wretched car trip to his parents'. This time, he'd actually heaved as he'd been reviewing his lines.
Really, he was constantly amazed at just how relaxing orgasms were, or rather blowjobs from Bella in particular. Getting dressed, he'd been damned near hyperventilating. He couldn't even tie his tie for his trembling fingers. Then, after one swift suck and bob, he could breathe again and dexterity returned. Bella was truly remarkable. Her skills were unparalleled. He couldn't wait for the night to be over so that they could retire to the hotel room he'd booked. Knowing that he was but hours away from the end was the only thing that could make this hellacious dinner bearable. He couldn't wait to fuck her senseless. Just thinking about her bouncing tits and silken skin tightened his trousers.
"Hey man," Jasper called. "Congrats."
Edward was briefly taken aback at seeing Jasper. Yes, he'd accepted the invitation, but he was... early. Jasper did not do 'early'. Frankly, Edward had expected him to forget the event altogether.
Jasper Whitlock, like Edward, was a brilliant man. Like Edward, he'd obtained his PhD quite young, and he was an accomplished horseman on the side. They had attended Duke University as undergraduates together, albeit in different departments, and he had been what Edward considered to be his best friend ever since.
Unlike Edward, however, Jasper Whitlock was not a blubbering ball of nerves. Instead, he was very nearly the opposite, being almost to the point of lethargic or apathetic. But then, Edward surmised, university professors, especially those specializing in the abstract and entirely useless field of Theoretical Astrophysics, could get away with some amount of lackadaisical behavior. And since Jasper had hailed from Massachusetts Institute of Technology's premier graduate school, he was even more readily tolerated.
"Hello, fucking loon," Edward replied with a grin, distracted from his anxious pacing. Ever since Jasper had used that terminology, Edward had relentlessly taunted him with it. His statement had been quite true, but it was more than a touch hypocritical, all things considering. Jasper was as eccentric as Edward, any day of the week.
"So, this better be entertaining. How the fuck did they convince you to have this thing? You realize I'm here just for the hilarity, right?" he replied with a laugh.
"I-erm, fuck, Jasper. I had to. My fucking bitch boss would have cut my balls off, figuratively speaking, if I had declined."
"Is she hot?" Jasper asked, completely disregarding everything else Edward had said.
But that was to be expected. Despite Jasper's cool exterior, he'd been stunned and more than jealous of Edward's recent success in the personal arena. Jasper, like Edward, was not really successful on the personal front. Hence, they made for good friends.
"So, you are here, not for me, but to meet women? You realize I work in pharmaceutical research. Selection is...well... okay, fine. It's fucking amazing. Steer clear of the blonde. She'll be hanging on the arm of a big motherfucker with an even bigger mouth." Edward paused, and considered once more, finger tapping his lower lip. "And stay the hell away from Bella."
Dinner was a marvelous concoction. He had to grant his supervisor that. She thankfully respected his distaste for fish and the like, and had settled on a refined palate of beef and poultry. Were it not for the speech, he'd have enjoyed the meal immensely.
But as the dinner wore on, Edward's nerves sparked into action such that he was practically trembling. His hair was a bronze-red wreck from all of the fingering and tugging, his tie was lopsided, and his glasses routinely slid down his nose from his cold sweat. Periodically, he'd peek over beside him to Bella for some measure of comfort; she was the only thing that could hope to calm him.
She was radiant. And infinitely appealing. To his delight, she wore a remarkably well-cut black cocktail dress coupled with sky high, fuck me hard heels. The fabric of the dress was clingy in all the best ways, hugging every curve she had. And her legs were...edible. Fuck! he'd repeatedly thought, having no sense of coherency as she'd exited his Volvo. It had been a true testament to his will and restraint to not push her back into the car and hike that dress up. He wanted those legs around his waist.
Shortly before the second course, he looked around the room and was shocked to see his boss, one evil, sadistic, Dr. Alice Brandon, chatting with his friend Jasper. If Edward didn't know better, he would have sworn that she was flirting. Dr. Brandon did not flirt, he'd thought. She wasn't even human. Surely, his eyes were deceiving him or perhaps he just needed new lenses. Yet, Jasper was laughing and most assuredly flirting with her. Is he fucking nuts? Edward wondered, incredulous.
His abstraction was interrupted, however, by a distinct pressure on the seam of his trousers. Startled, he twitched in his chair and very nearly jumped up. Thankfully, an amused smile out of the corner of his eye halted his reaction.
His breath caught, and he nervously looked around. Surreptitiously, he leaned toward Bella, and murmured, "Wha-what are you doing?"
"Dr. Cullen? You sound nervous and look a little panicked. Would you like a diversion?" she whispered, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Here?" he choked.
Her response was a more forceful press against his now growing bulge.
The feel of her hand squeezing and massaging his quickly thickening and lengthening erection, essentially in public, was mind bending. His rather imaginative mind catapulted to highly debauched visions of fucking her right there, fellow diners be damned. Hell, they could watch! He wasn't quite sure if he would make it to the hotel room.
Her palm stroked him above the fabric, careful in her movements to not raise suspicion. Luckily, their tablecloth was long, and their table's positioning put them against a wall with no one to either side. He thanked his supervisor's strange obsession with event planning. Dr. Brandon abhorred long banquet tables, preferring more intimate place settings of six to eight. At the time, Edward had been clueless and simply nodded when she'd mentioned it. He'd just been hellbent on letting her have her way, so that hopefully, he'd be granted some form of resource reciprocation in the lab.
Thus far, his submission to her whims had resulted in the removal of the pesky nitwit assistant, and she'd agreed to reducing their status update meetings to once every two weeks rather than every other day. Edward clearly won in that exchange.
Being unable to withstand it anymore, he slowly reached down underneath the cloth and unzipped himself. In his periphery, he detected a marked grin on his lusty mate's lips. Again, all he could think about was what those lips could do and what he'd like to do to them.
With the strain of his erection, the moment he was unzipped, his cock sprang to life. Instantly, Bella's hand wrapped around his girth, and she thumbed his slit, spreading the already oozing precum around his head.
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she began firm strokes up and down his length. And somehow, somewhere, she'd found some form of lubrication. It felt extraordinary, like the lube they used for their atypical fucking, as she'd deemed it.
Did she bring lube with her? Did she plan this all along? Would she really do that?
He almost squealed in excitement, as he recognized that that was exactly what she'd done. Motherfucking handjob goddess.
His head lolled back against the high back chair, and it took all he had to not moan in appreciation, as her silken grip slid up and down him.
Considering their locale and his reaction to said locale, it would take no time at all for him to come. They'd never attempted something so salacious in such a potentially compromising position. It was driving to near madness.
Fuck, fuck! he rambled, as he fought to keep his eyes open.
The sensations were incredible. Her hand fit around him just perfectly, and the pressure, and the slickness, it all reminded him of pumping her ever-tight, hot pussy.
He inhaled sharply, trying to maintain a respectable and inconspicuous expression. Fortunately, their tablemates, individuals from neighboring departments that Edward recognized just barely, were absorbed in their debate over time-release capsulation. How they'd been seated with Edward, he could only chock up to Dr. Brandon's absurd ideas on conversation promotion. Hell, he didn't even recognize half of the individuals at his own dinner, another of Dr. Brandon's overboard tendencies. Regardless, they were distracted and apparently did not notice that he was almost panting from the delicious friction glancing up and down his cock.
His cold sweat was replaced by a slight sheen of hot sweat, the type that Bella Swan always elicited from him. His fingers gripped his fork too tightly, and he tried to appear as though he were eating. But it was poor pretense at best. His other hand was wrapped atop hers and was vigorously stroking his cock.
With each upstroke, she twisted and pinched the tip of his head, just as he'd demonstrated for her times before. She'd clearly paid attention because if he were being honest, her handjob was easily better than his own self celebratory wanking. She knew precisely how tightly to grasp him, and the fact that she sat there beside him, seemingly paying no attention to him whatsoever, was driving him barmy.
"Oh, God," he exhaled quietly, not able to contain himself, as he felt his muscles beginning to flex. The heat in his abdomen was growing at an alarming rate, and he knew his orgasm was imminent.
"That's it," she purred, as she leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Come for me, Edward."
And that was all it took. With three more forceful thrusts from her hand, he came hard and his mind went blank.
Bella had thought of everything. Because just as he was coming, a cloth napkin magically appeared in her hand, such that he came into it rather than on his wool trousers. He noted that he should demonstrate his appreciation for her thoughtfulness. If she'd not been so well prepared, he'd have had to have dealt with a level of embarrassment that he didn't think he could tolerate. Perfection, he thought with a languid smile.
Lazily, his head turned toward her, as she politely, yet subtly cleaned him off and zipped him back up.
"You're the devil," he breathed. "Take my soul. It's yours."
Approximately an hour later, he'd somehow managed to stutter and stammer through his brief appreciatory speech, thanking all of the right individuals: his graduate school advisor, Dr. Caius and Dr. Aro, never mind that those two had nothing to do with his success, Emmett, to be polite, his parents, who unfortunately could not attend due to his mother's prearranged and paid for trip to Pigeon Forge, and then finally, his two last supervisors, Dr. Swan and Dr. Brandon.
In truth, only two people from his litany deserved any thanks, and they were his doctoral advisor, Dr. W. M. Marcus, a compassionate and understanding man who did nothing but encourage him, and then, of course, Dr. Swan. And he wasn't thankful to her for just the fucking, although, he certainly was thankful for that. He was indebted to her for his entire happiness and well-being, professionally and personally. The longer he knew her, the deeper he fell in love with her. It was frightening, and at the same time comforting, that each time her bare fingers danced across the table, he thought of adorning them.
In his typical talks and presentations, he had no issue addressing the audience. In New Orleans, it'd been mind-boggling to him just how well he'd spoken. He distinctly recalled how each member in the audience looked at him with absolute rapt attention, absorbing his every word, furiously jotting down notes. He'd been confident and assured, certain of his place at the lectern. Of course, he had been presenting some of the most notable advances in protoporphyria treatment in more than a decade. And he knew the data better than he knew almost anything.
This particular speech was painful and anxiety-filled. But it was acceptable. It wasn't fluid or graceful, but he'd managed. He didn't throw up or pass out. And as he'd kept his eyes glued to his dining partner, he avoided his telltale scarlet blushes. Thankfully, Dr. Brandon allowed him to speak for less than five minutes. More time would have been definitely more than he could have handled.
After his speech, several others spoke, extolling his genius and accomplishments. In truth, Edward hated it all. It was uncomfortable as attention was focused on him. He'd have much preferred to remain in the background, working away at projects in silence. Thankfully, after Dr. Caius spouted off some random biographical nonsense and vague praises, that portion of the dinner was over. And more so, they only had dessert remaining and the typical aftermath of chatting and small talk. He wondered if he and Bella could escape back to their hotel room. With that thought, the memory of their under the table interlude interrupted all of his thought processes and went straight to his groin.
He leaned over, glancing around to their tablemates, who were still arguing and unaware.
"I want you, Dr. Swan," he murmured, quietly enough that no one but her would hear.
Seductively, she flipped her long hair back and allowed the strap of her dress to slide a few inches down her shoulder. As she did so, he could see the slightly raised lines across her skin. His lips dropped open, as he watched her tongue glide across her bottom lip.
Underneath the table, his hand ghosted to her stocking covered thigh, and his finger pressed into her skin.
Looking up and in a loud voice, one meant to be heard, he said, "Please excuse me for a moment.
"Dr. Swan? I need to discuss something rather important with you. It's regarding a patent application. I meant to speak with you about it earlier. It really can't wait."
Two minutes later, they'd exited the ballroom and were heading down a long corridor, hand in hand.
Without thinking, he wrenched open what turned out to be a closet door, and he yanked Bella inside.
Urgently, his lips found hers, and his hands freely roamed her body, pausing over her breasts and hips. He backed her against what seemed to be a low counter, and he ground his hips into hers. As his intent had been clear before they'd even exited the dining room, his cock was already hard in anticipation.
"I can't wait for later," he panted against her lips. "I need you now."
Their tongues entwined, and their mouths moved with fervor. He could taste the sweetness of wine on her lips. He wanted to lick it off of her. When their breathing became labored, he moved to her neck, lapping and nipping.
A low moan echoed in the small closet, as his hand slid down her front and jerked her dress up around her waist. To his immediate arousal he found nothing but a string of fabric for panties and one of those incredibly alluring 'wasps' with garter straps.
"Fuck, Bella! You know what these do to me!" he groaned.
"Tell me, Dr. Cullen. Tell me what you want to do to me," she whispered, as she sucked his earlobe between her teeth.
He pressed his hips into hers, and he grunted, "Do you feel that, Bella? Do you feel how hard I am? Only for you. I want to lick every inch of your body. I want to taste you. I want to skim my teeth across your skin and make you beg for more.
"I want to crawl inside of you and fuck you until you scream my name. I want to feel your pussy clamp down on me when you come. Is that good enough? Do you know how turned on I was when you were touching me in there? How badly I wanted to bend you over the table? Or how all I could think about was dragging you out of there so that I could do this?"
"Goddamnit, Edward," she breathed, as her fingers wrapped around his tie. "Now, please, now!"
He grinned, as she hastily unbuckled him and pushed his trousers down. With little delay, he ran a hand down her thigh and to her knee, jerking it up around his waist. Once secure, his fingers tickled across the inside her thigh to her slit.
"Fuck, you are already wet! What were you thinking about, you naughty girl?"
Not waiting for her response, he traced her folds, spreading her wetness, and then plunged two fingers inside of her.
"Were you thinking about this?" he teased, as he pistoned in and out of her. "Were you thinking about me fucking you?"
"Oh, God, Edward," she cried softly, throwing her head back in pleasure. "Yes, please!"
"Did you enjoy getting me off like that, Bella? Making me come under the table? Did that turn you on?" he continued, knowing how she loved hearing him talk. It wasn't like his cock didn't respond either.
His fingers curled, and his thumb found her clit. Her breath sucked in as he pressed lightly against it, grazing the sensitive nerves, as his hand worked in and out of her.
"Please, Edward," she begged. "Fuck me now! I can't stand it!"
She again pulled him by his tie to her mouth. "Now," she pleaded.
His hand snaked down to his cock, and he brought his tip to her entry.
"Now?" he asked against her lips, taunting her by rubbing his head against her clit.
Another moan cut through the quiet, telling him his answer. With no further ado, he pressed himself into her tightness. He quickly acknowledged that her heels put her at the exact perfect height for fucking standing up. His knees would only have to bend just slightly. Couple that with her light weight, and he could pound her for hours if his cock would last.
"So, tight, Bella," he groaned, as he began rhythmic pumping. "God, you are tight."
One hand curled around her thigh for leverage and the other clutched the back of her neck, pulling her mouth onto his. Her hands lighted on his shoulders for balance, her nails digging through the fabric of his oxford.
Over and over, he pushed inside of her. While he couldn't set a fast rhythm, he certainly could go deep, and each thrust was hard and precise. He could feel her muscles clenching and tightening, and her soft breasts swelled against his chest.
"Fuck... oh, God!... Oh, yes!" she chanted. "Edward, oh, God! Fuck!"
"That's right... Bella... you wanted this? You wanted me inside...of you?"
"Yes, yes... Fuck me, yes! I wanted...you all... night! Oh, fuck!" she moaned, barely coherent.
Her hips met his thrust for thrust, pushing down as he pressed upward. His lips found her shoulder, and he ran his teeth along her skin.
"Yes, Edward! Taste me!" she cried. "Bite me!"
"Fuck", he breathed, before obliging her without argument. He'd be more than happy to accommodate her wishes.
As his teeth latched onto the long, smooth muscle of her neck, he heard her breathing hitch, and her nails dug into his shirt. Teasing her, he nipped at the skin, knowing there would be tiny bruises the next day. With each sting, her body rocked in response, urging him on.
"Goddamnit, Edward, bite me. I need it now!" she wailed, slightly too loudly for their location.
His hips bucked hard, driving into her, increasing their pace.
She knew exactly that he wanted, what would drive him over the edge, and she never failed to deliver it. How he loved his place, his marks, on her body. How he loved tasting her! Latching his mouth on her!
"So, goddamned good," he whispered before clamping his mouth onto her pale skin. Slowly, he increased his pressure, knowing exactly the moment when he'd break flesh. She released the tops of his shoulders and wrapped her fingers around his neck, clutching him closer and encouraging the force of his bite.
Her pants washed across his skin in time to his thrusts, and he felt her pussy tighten to the point he almost couldn't move.
"Yes, oh, God! Edward! Oh, fuck!" she breathed, as his teeth pierced flesh.
As soon as his tongue tasted that coppery essence of her, his hips responded of the own accord, slamming into her with force. Her head lifted and tilted, exposing more of her skin to him, as she moaned in time.
For a brief moment, he was lost in sensation. He felt his eyes roll back in pleasure, as he lapped at her skin, sucking the tiny drops of salt and metal. His cock was screaming for release, never mind that he'd come an hour before.
At that moment, her body started quaking and trembling, signaling her orgasm. Her pussy cinched down on him like a velvety vice as she called out his name. Without delay, he pumped her quickly and allowed his mounting tension to let go. Still in the aftermath of her orgasm, her muscles twitched and constricted, milking him as he allowed himself to release inside of her.
After several minutes, she sighed and said, "We have to go back. We've probably already missed dessert. And considering our departure, I have a feeling there will be chatter."
He growled, "I don't want to. I really couldn't care less what they say."
"We-well, that is if you don't care?" he quickly corrected, suddenly looking at her with wide, jade eyes.
While they'd arrived together and sat together, he doubted most realized their involvement.
"No, I really don't care now, Edward," she laughed. Gently, she kissed the corner of his mouth and smiled.
His returning grin stretched across his face. He felt her body sway, and he realized that he still held her thigh, it being still wrapped around his waist. She was quite flexible, he recognized.
"That had to be uncomfortable," he noted, releasing her.
"Hardly," she chuckled, palming his jaw. "Yoga, Edward. It comes in handy on occasion."
"Really? I didn't know there was a 'standing while fucking pose'," he smirked.
"Oh, there are many while fucking poses. I'll show them to you," she laughed mischievously. "Perhaps later on tonight."
"Tease," he grinned, squeezing her supple backside. "Be careful. You might just not be able to walk tomorrow once I'm done with you."
[5] Um, yeah. I'm going to assume you know who Vlad Tepes [Impaler] was…. Ahem, Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia? Vlad DRACULA? He was Stoker's muse, if you will. Not a "real" vampire, but a badass, uber sadistic motherfucker who tortured tens of thousands of people. His preferred method was impalement. Not of the cockery kind. Of the deathly kind.