As always, I have to thank Team Blackbird - Midnight Cougar, Music Daydreams, Paige Edwards and Lizzie Paige. You're truly the best!
Blackbird
Chapter 6
. . . . .
The house was empty and quiet, and Bella's footsteps echoed loudly on the bare floor.
Everything was spotlessly clean and in its place, looking picture perfect, which sent a zing of pain into her heart. It was another sign of how sterile and meaningless her life was. Because there was nothing to clean or arrange, there was absolutely nothing for her to do.
She was a perfect shell, living inside a perfect shell.
Little shivers raced along her back as the numbness began wearing off. Deep down inside, she felt a sense of panic rising, pressing at the bottom of her tightening throat. She started to pant.
It was terrifying.
Not knowing what to do, Bella began to count her steps as she climbed to the house's next level.
One. I'm done.
Two. I'm through.
Three. What's left of me?
On the wall in front of her, on proud display, were some of the framed photoshoots she'd done in the past year.
Vibe had her sitting at Kid's feet, legs spread wide, crotch on display.
You're a goddamn cliché.
Glazed Magazine had put her into a pair of shorts that exposed the bottom of her ass. She was on all fours giving an "O" face to the camera, while being spanked by a faceless man.
You're a goddamn cliché.
Complex had her leaning against a fence in another provocative pose—this time in a tiny gold bikini. She was in chains again, which fell from upper arm cuffs to the belt around her waist.
Always with the damn chains.
Restrained by chains, heavy under them, never free of them.
Who was that girl in the photos? Bella hated her. She was clueless, idiotic, trapped, and not aware of it until it was too damn late.
What had she done?
Oh, what had she done?
With a cry of rage, Bella swung a closed fist against the Complex frame, and the glass splintered into cracks. This time, she felt everything—her racing heart, the panic beating at her throat, the breaking glass cutting into her hand.
She welcomed the pain. It made her feel uncomfortably alive, and it hurt so good that she hit the picture again, and shards rained down at her feet as her hand started to burn.
Dry, ragged sobs erupted from her throat as she moved to the next frame and swung at that one, too. God, it stung, but she couldn't stop, and she beat at it again and again until her blood smeared against the image.
You're a goddamn cliché.
"Bella! Hey, hey," Edward cried, strong hands around her shoulders, pulling her back from the wall of photos.
Screaming now, she fought his hold. She had to destroy the photos, destroy that girl . . . couldn't he see? Embarrassing, so crude and garish in ugliness, not her at all. Why, why hadn't she said no?
"Shhh, Bella, shhh."
Distantly, she heard herself sobbing in a harsh, horrible way, taking in huge gulps of air and choking on it.
They fell to the floor, his arms around her, one of his hands holding up her hurt one–the one that was bleeding. Her body heaved spasmodically, awful sounds tearing at her throat, her mouth open in a rictus of a scream trapped inside because she couldn't breathe.
His arms continued rocking her, gradually bringing her back to herself, but she couldn't seem to stop shaking or to get her breathing under control.
"I feel like I'm suffocating in the middle of the street," she sobbed brokenly. "And no one can see me dying."
"I see you," he whispered. "I see you."
. . .
Her rage and despair was terrible, and Edward felt her pain like a visceral kick to the gut. Obviously long ignored, he felt her years of pent up frustration, fear and anger as her body shook against his, hard, ragged whimpers escaping from her throat.
It took a long, long time before she calmed as they huddled there on the floor. He kept his hold around her strong, but light. It was important to him that she knew she wasn't alone, and that she no longer felt trapped.
Finally, she collapsed against his chest in exhaustion and defeat.
Picking her up in his arms, her face tucked into his neck, he carried her to the bathroom. He was gentle and quiet as he tended to her hand. Luckily, none of the cuts was deep, so all she needed was cleaning and some bandages.
After he finished, he took her chin in his hand. Her face was dirty and splotchy, her puffy, red-rimmed eyes deadened, her mouth turned down at the corners. His poor, lost girl. There wasn't much else he could do for her but be there . . . and maybe turn down the lights, turn down life, for her.
"I know a place in Tijuana a few hours from here," he said. "It's right on the beach and it's remote. If you have a passport here, I can take you there for a few days."
She gave him a look of astonishment, which broke his heart again. Was she not used to being asked what she wanted? If so, it helped explain some of her past actions with him.
"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely and nodded.
"Let's go get you a change or two of clothes," he said, and held a hand out to her.
She took it, then stepped against his chest before he could move. He tightened his arms around her, pushing his nose into her hair as she burrowed against him with a heavy sigh.
Edward let her dictate how long the hug went, and she held him for quite a while before letting him go. He thought she seemed both strong and vulnerable at the moment; while she said nothing, at least she felt comfortable enough to show him what she needed.
She was coming out of her shocked state, but she was tired, sluggish, moving up the stairs slowly.
After they found her passport and packed some clothes into a duffle bag, they left the house and went out to his four-seater truck. He laid down one of her blankets in the back, so she could hide and rest in comfort from the paps.
"I just need to go get Jake," he told her, and she nodded, already looking half-asleep.
The number of paps outside her place had doubled. As he drove out past the gate of Bella's home, they were like starved vultures as they surrounded his truck.
"Edward! Officer Hero! Over here!"
"Edward, where is she? Where's Isa?"
"Come on, where is she!"
Annoying assholes. As if he'd tell them shit.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel and he cursed under his breath. With the mood he was in, it took every ounce of willpower not to drive headlong into their deliberately obstructing bodies.
He was grateful they didn't follow him. Apparently, all they wanted was Bella's blood.
After he stopped at his place and picked up Jake and a change of clothes, Edward drove on the back roads to the 101, making sure no paps followed them. Before he took the entrance ramp, he pulled aside to let Bella climb from the back into the front seat. Keeping the blanket around her, she laid her head against the passenger side window and drifted as he spent the next few hours driving down the 5 to the San Diego freeway, then onto the 805 and into Tijuana.
Instead of his father, who had called and left numerous displeased messages for him, he called Emmett. It was after midnight, so he left a message.
"Hey, Emmett, it's me," he said. "I need a favor, man. Can you talk to Sarge, tell him I'll be out for a couple of days? Everything's fine, I just need some personal time. All right? Thanks."
Edward had plenty of vacation he'd saved up in anticipation of his campaign run. But right now, the thought of it was almost abhorrent; he knew he'd disappointed a number of people, and he didn't care. His lack of concern worried him only a little. Shouldn't he have been more conscious of his image? But damn it, sometimes other things, other people, were more important than doing the politically-minded, responsible thing. And either his father would understand that, or he wouldn't.
He glanced over at Bella, knowing he wouldn't have changed a thing about the night.
There was a little motel called Corona Del Mar just south of the border in Playa de Tijuana. It was a small, unassuming place that catered to the locals and the few outsiders who knew of its existence. His father had discovered it years ago when he was looking for an inexpensive, remote vacation place to take Edward's mother.
The motel room was small, but had a huge bay window that overlooked the ocean, with a bistro table and two chairs. A hammock seat was mounted to the ceiling at one side of the window, a perfect place to sightsee or read.
Edward placed their things on the table as Bella sat at the foot of the bed, gazing out the window.
"Now what," she asked in a thin, child-like voice.
"Anything you want," he answered, and sank down on one of the chairs, giving her his undivided attention.
His statement confused her; she was exhausted and looked at him blankly. Her back was hunched, her hands palm-up on her thighs.
"We don't have to do anything at all," he murmured. "We don't have to be anywhere."
"Can . . . can I sleep?" she asked hesitantly. "Just for a little while?"
In response, he stood to draw her to her feet, then walked her to the head of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he took her by the shoulders and sat her down. As if she was a child, because she was in that moment, he removed her shoes, then helped her slide under the sheet.
With her hair splayed across the pillow, she stared up at him unblinking, wordlessly. He sat at her side, bending to press a kiss against cheek. Her arms were bare, and he caressed them soothingly.
Taking her hand in his, he told her to sleep, and her eyes closed.
He stayed by her side until her breathing evened out.
. . .
Consciousness returned gradually. It was sunny outside. Bella was barefoot and running through sweet smelling grass, and then she blinked. At first, the white ceiling above her didn't register, and neither did the sound of panting.
She turned her head to the side and saw a pointy-eared dog with a black snout, pink tongue lolling out of its mouth, smiling at her.
Jake.
Bella smiled back and began stretching luxuriously. She felt good, loose, rested. She felt . . . wonderful.
Behind her, a door closed quietly, and her head lifted.
"Hey," Edward said. "You're awake."
Bella's heart swelled in her chest at the sight of his face, which had become so dear to her. His wide mouth was curved in a smile as he carried a bag over to the table located a few feet from the foot of the bed.
His surprise that she was awake had her wondering how long she'd been sleeping. "How long have I been out?" she asked, and her voice was scratchy and heavy from disuse.
Edward sat in one of the chairs, then swung to face her with a small grin. He began pointing at food containers on the table as he spoke.
"Well, that was lunch . . . that was dinner . . . and this?" He tapped on the bag he'd just carried in. "This is breakfast."
Bella fell back against her pillow with an embarrassed groan. Jake tried to French kiss her, and she pushed him away.
"Wow. Sorry."
"No, it's okay," he replied, and she heard the honesty in his voice. He really wasn't upset that she'd just wasted over 24 hours.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Actually, she was, but the most pressing thing at the moment was getting to the bathroom.
"Starving," she replied, and climbed out of bed. For a moment, her head spun and she saw stars. "Woah."
And Edward was there, warm hand on her arm, steadying her. Bella threw herself into his arms, hugging him gratefully. He was so strong, so solid, so good. Then she pulled away.
"I've gotta pee, be right back!"
Afterward, they shared a huge breakfast of fruit, cottage cheese, and an egg and cheese sandwich. It was so delicious. It was a sin.
"Ow," he said suddenly when she held the sandwich to his mouth. "Talons," he clarified.
"Sorry, sorry," she said, and sat back. "All right, that's it. Talons, be gone!"
She'd already removed all of her many rings; she should have removed the pesky nails, too. Pulling off the chunky gold necklace she still wore, Bella used the pointed clasp's end to pry off the nails. It was liberating. Her nails were short and grubby looking, but as each nail bed was revealed, her mood lightened.
She wasn't a popstar now; she was simply a girl on vacation.
After breakfast and a shower, Bella walked with Edward along the beach. Hands clasped and swinging between them, she lifted her face and let the wind whip her hair back. Jake accompanied them, barking at the waves as they rolled in, then chasing them as they rolled back out.
The beach was fairly deserted; she only saw two other people far in the distance. It was wonderful to be apart from everyone. Healing, watching the water crest in white peaks, hearing its gentle swish. Satisfying, as she walked across the smooth sand the water left behind.
She felt like she could breathe here.
Not bothering to roll up her capris, Bella let go of Edward's hand and waded into the water. It was a little cold, and made her toes and ankles tingle. As the sun shone down on the water's ripples, she was delightfully blinded by the sparkle, and closed her eyes, letting her senses take over. The salt air smelled tangy, both fishy and fresh. The sun warmed her from above, and the water cooled her wonderfully below. The breeze played with her body, pushing against her one way, then easing and coming against her from another direction.
For the first time in a long time, Bella was glad to be alive.
Edward seemed to know she needed some time alone, so he and Jake played Frisbee several yards down the beach.
As one would sniff cautiously for an unpleasant odor, Bella's mind touched delicately upon the night everything had fallen apart for her.
Although Kid had ruined their part of the concert, Bella told herself that she'd done nothing wrong; not wanting to disrobe hadn't affected the performance. If she could be blamed for anything, it would be for playing the ignorant victim.
But she wouldn't be one again. She was done being a rapper's plaything. Done singing, dancing, and posing like one, too.
Although she'd never sing Best I Ever Had again–it was ugly and disrespectful to women–she would learn to forgive herself for her part in it. After all, she had to start somewhere, and it might as well be with that awful song.
Her mother calling her a cliché still hurt, and Bella kicked her foot through the water hard.
What exactly had she meant by that? Bella had always trusted her mother, done what she wanted. It wasn't as though her mother had exactly given her any other choice. So if she was tired or unoriginal, wasn't part of that her mother's fault, too?
The courage it took to follow that thought dissolved abruptly, and Bella took off through the water, running along the clean stretch of the sand's edge. Edward and Jake saw her coming, and Jake ran toward her, tongue lolling.
She didn't have to have all the answers now.
. . .
"I want to know everything about you," Bella said to Edward later that night, as they sat at the room's little bistro table eating dinner.
"There's really not that much to know," he replied with a sexy wink that made her heart beat out of tune. "Except I've got a popstar girlfriend."
Wincing at the reminder of her career, she saw the answering apology in Edward's gaze. Then, she shrugged off the hurt. Pop stardom might have been part of who she was, but it wasn't all she was.
She considered him with one eye closed. "I saw those books about leadership at your place: Relentless and Way of the Wolf. Edward Cullen, do you want to be president someday?"
He almost choked on his bite. As it was, he had to hit his chest with a closed fist and take a drink from the glass of water at his side before he could speak. "God, no. That's my father's dream, not mine."
Her head tilted in surprise. "Your dad pushes you, too? Pushed you hard when you were a kid, I mean?"
Edward cleared his throat and smiled crookedly. "He did. When I wasn't at an after-school activity or doing homework, he used to have me read these books, and write a report on what I'd read. It was usually an autobiography of a government leader. I hated it, but it kept me out of trouble, and I learned a lot. I was always far ahead of my peers in school."
Bella folded her arms across the table. "I only got to go to school through ninth grade," she said with a note of regret. "After that, I had tutors."
His gaze pierced her. "What happened then?"
"Hit it kind of big with my second song, Oh La La. People wouldn't leave me alone afterward. There was the occasional pap who'd hide behind a bush and get a photo of me, usually at the worst moment. Like the time I was walking home from school crying over people who weren't my friends anymore," she said. How embarrassing that she couldn't say it without the remembered sting, but at least her voice didn't waver.
"You were bullied?" he asked gently.
She shrugged, unable to look at him. It was such an awful memory, one she hadn't thought of for years. Bella didn't even know why she'd brought it up.
"Some of my classmates were jealous."
He got up from the table, then his arms came around her, pulling her up and into his chest. He swayed with her for long minutes, and Bella sank into him fully, tucking her head under his chin. His body was solid, strong, and fit against hers in the best way.
He gave the best hugs.
"I'm sorry." The words were said against her forehead, then he pressed a kiss there.
She choke-laughed over the lump in her throat. "When I told Mom, that's when she pulled me out of school. She told me they were jealous, that I'd better get used to it. But what I really wanted was my friends back."
"It doesn't sound as though they were your friends, Bella."
"I know." She sighed. "But until then, I didn't realize being famous came with drawbacks. It was a rude wake-up call. I told Mom that I didn't wanna be famous if it meant I wouldn't have any friends, and she laughed and said, 'Honey, you'll make new friends when you're famous, friends who will also be famous and understand what you're going through.' But it wasn't true. Other famous kids were too busy being famous. A lot of them seemed to be having fun, too," she added with a note of confusion.
She leaned away to look up at him. "But I wasn't having fun. There was something wrong with me."
He framed her face with his hands. "I doubt there was anything wrong with you. And I'm just guessing here, so I apologize if I'm off base, but I bet a lot of your unhappiness was due to your mother pushing you too hard."
It was too close for comfort for Bella, and she stepped away from his warmth with a nod. "Maybe." She didn't want to think of those painful, early years with her mother when she'd been browbeaten into submission. Sharing those moments would be way too painful, and she just wasn't up for it at that moment.
He held out his hand to her, and she took it gratefully. "You're a good friend, Edward."
His mouth quirked at that. "Oh, I'm much more than that."
Her breath caught at the tone of his voice and the sensual look in his eyes, and she stepped close to him to aim a kiss at his mouth. Edward met her halfway, pulling her up into his arms almost roughly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Although she had been with guys in the past, even their kisses couldn't compare to Edward's. He was all man, she realized dazedly as his tongue swept into her mouth and licked at her own, and he kissed that way, too.
He moved them over to the bed, then released her to pull off his clothing. Their eyes held on to each other until Bella just couldn't help herself and had to look at him. She saw his smirk just before her eyes dropped to the golden skin of his wide shoulders and well-muscled chest, following the clean lines there down to a well-defined six-pack. God, Edward was staggeringly beautiful. His stomach was an amazing flat shelf with a sharp V pointing to his large erection, and she had to lick her suddenly dry lips.
Before he placed her on the bed, his fingers smoothed and caressed the clothing off her body, his lips following the trail of exposed skin that pebbled under his touch. The way he ran his fingers across her skin, as if she was something precious, was another first. Bella began to shiver. Even the skin on her cheeks was adored by the touch of his lips. When he finally reached her mouth again, he was soft and sleepy almost, paying attention to the corner of her lips, then moving to rock his mouth against hers lingeringly. She opened wide, inviting him to kiss her deeper, and he sank his mouth to hers with sudden urgency, answering her need.
He didn't touch her intimately, and Bella felt a growing pressure there, wanting his weight, wanting his cock inside her. She began to feel hypersensitive all over her body, feverish almost. When her legs started to scissor across the bedspread, he brought a gentle hand to her stomach. He began to massage her there erotically, moving ever closer to where she needed him, and she tensed, panting. Once his fingers came close enough, he cupped her there.
"I didn't notice before, but you're bare," he breathed, eyes hazy with desire and something else.
Her neck arched. "Yes. Had to be . . . photo ready."
"Shit, Bella," he growled, and the words set her blood on fire. "Not anymore."
"Not anymore," she repeated, and opened for him.
"Mine," he breathed. "Not the cameras. And I don't mind a little hair."
"Please," she moaned, shaking her head back and forth against the sheets, bucking against the warmth of his hand. "Don't tease."
His warm laugh came against the underside of her breast. "I don't think you've been teased enough."
"Edward," she gasped in umbrage.
His response was to slide a finger through her wetness, then he pushed two inside, and watched as her body curled toward him.
His other hand grasped hers, his fingers separating hers and bringing their palms together. He leaned close to stroke his tongue provocatively into her mouth. The motion matched what he was doing deep inside her, slow and a bit rough, and sparks began to catch fire and grow.
Bella arched like a cat, sliding her body against his, pushing herself against the palm of his hand. "Move on top of me," she pleaded, and pulled at his arm, wanting the warm weight of him against her. "I want to feel you."
"I want you to come first," he said against her ear, his breath coming in short pants. She felt his tongue against her throat. "Come for me, Bella."
He was doing something to her, his fingers. Heavy, slick, and deep inside. A tidal wave of pure sensation was slowly rising. She could feel her heels digging into the mattress, could feel how tense her muscles were.
"Oh, God, please," she gasped. It felt like dying, and like being reborn was just . . . out of reach.
"It's coming," he said against her breast, then lightly bit her nipple before he lapped at it with his tongue. "Let it happen, Bella. Let it come."
She heard herself sob, felt her body jerk hard up against the heel of his hand as the pleasure of release hit with the force of an anvil. She screamed, and the lights in the room blurred, going shimmery as tears filled her eyes. Her thighs were shaking uncontrollably as she collapsed against the bed, and she was panting as though she'd just run a marathon.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, my God, I needed that.
"That's it, that's it," Edward crooned against her temple, kissing her cheek, kissing away the tears there.
"I think I love you," she breathed, joking, as her body twitched in the aftermath.
Then, she lifted her hand to his erect cock where it rested against his stomach, curling her fingers around the stiff girth. He hissed and bucked once against her hold, then allowed her to pull him to her that way.
"This is mine," she told him as he moved between her legs, as she held the tip of him against her entrance, sliding him through her slick arousal.
Edward bit his bottom lip, letting her do it several times, and it felt so good. It was deliciously hot seeing his purple head split her lips.
With a rough, jagged breath, Edward backed away to grab the condom on the bedside table, then rolled it on himself with quick strokes before he returned to her, grasping her hips with warm hands. Bella widened her stance, lifting herself to him.
"Fuck," he drawled and slid into her.
Raising her legs, she tightened her thighs around his waist as he began to thrust deeply. Feeling his solid weight against her was titillating; it was their first body-on-body experience, and she ran her fingers along his well-muscled arms in delicious appreciation. His hands came up to hold her shoulders as he undulated against her smoothly, and the fullness of him was incredible. Slowing, he captured her mouth with his, pressing her swollen lips into extended kisses, his tongue slipping into her in a deep, hard motion that mimicked his action below. Then, gasping and shuddering, he pulled away to bury his face into the side of her neck, and she felt the warm wet of his tongue there.
His movements slowed, then stilled, and he pulled back to look at her. The soft gaze of his hooded, sleepy green eyes sent a zing through her body. Maybe aware of how he was affecting her, he smiled drowsily. She raised a hand to cup the side of his face, to run the ball of her thumb against his pouty lower lip.
Kissing her thumb, Edward pulled almost all the way out of her, then pushed back in, and Bella gasped. Continuing the unhurried pace, he created a low warmth and a delicious friction that had her arching against him as a second orgasm rocked through her body. It wasn't long before he had to speed up again, his quick movements breaking into hard, erratic jerks, until he cried out and stiffened against her with a long, drawn out groan.
Afterward, they melted into each other's arms. Edward fell asleep quickly.
Bella studied his face closely. Asleep, he looked boyishly young, and she pressed a long kiss of gratitude against his cheek. Her skin was hot and sticky where they touched, but she had no desire to separate herself. If anything, she wanted to get even closer to him. She settled for laying the side of her face against his chest, and listened to his steady heartbeat.
In a world where she could have almost anything she desired, Edward had given her something far more valuable.
He'd given her back herself.
. . .
