fever dream
5
Bluebell and honeysuckle candle lit on the coffee table, comfy slippers on my feet, and a glass of vino in my hand.
Esme and Carlisle had the children Facetime me before they went over to the neighbors' for their cookout, so I have their precious faces banked to tide me over until tomorrow.
It's the perfect evening, feet tucked underneath me on the couch, the red Netflix logo glowing on the screen in front of me. Now, just to decide what to—
"Tell me what you really like
Baby, I can take my time
We don't ever have to fight
Just take it step-by-step
I can see it in your eyes
'Cause they never tell me lies
I can feel that body shake
And the heat between your legs."
It takes me too long to realize that the sudden burst of music is coming from my cell.
"What the…" Snatching it off the table, I shouldn't be surprised to see Edward's name flashing on the screen, but I am. This is definitely not his ringtone. "When the hell did you—"
"Pack a bag, I'll be there in five."
I...what?
"When did you change your ringtone?"
I'm stuck on the inconsequential stuff.
He snorts, apparently finding himself funny. Someone's gotta, I guess. "Friday, when you were in the bathroom. It's appropriate, right? Can't go wrong with The Weeknd."
"Edward!" This is not a laughing moment, but I can't help it. That little joke of his could have gone so wrong if he'd called while Riley was around, or Carmen for that matter. It wouldn't have been easy to explain why my ringtone—which is usually just the generic tone built into the phone—was suddenly a sexy song about orgasms.
"Seriously, though. I'm a few minutes away. What are you doing?"
Looking down at myself, at the SpongeBob Squarepants pjs Jameson picked out for me for Mother's Day last year, I big fat lie. "Just sitting around naked since I've got the house all to myself for the night."
"Shit. You're…" I bite my lip as he groans. "You're fucking with me, aren't you? Witch. I don't even care what you're wearing, the less the better. I'll pick you up in a few. Be ready."
"Wait, Ed—"
He doesn't give me the chance to ask how he knew I was home alone, because he must have otherwise he wouldn't already be on his way over here. The phone goes dead, and I've barely had time to switch my slippers and pjs for sweats, a tank top, and flip flops when Edward honks the horn out front.
Stuffing my cell charger and a fresh set of underwear into my purse, I hurry out to Edward's truck, second-guessing my hastily pulled on outfit when I realize he's come straight from work.
Black dress pants cling to thick thighs, molded to him like a second skin. He's wearing his favorite shiny shoes, the ones that Jameson always laughs at because he can see his reflection in them. I lick my lips, eyes travelling up over a fitted white shirt that shows off just enough definition to get my mouth watering, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open, faintest hint of the tattoo across his collarbone visible.
And the jaw…
Sigh.
That jaw.
"You haven't shaved."
Edward huffs a laugh through his nose, peeling away from the house. "Not for a couple of days, no."
Reaching up, I touch the prickly stubble dusting the curve of his chin, a shiver rippling down my spine. "I can't wait to feel it between my legs."
"Bella," he groans, deep and gravelly, the sound going straight to where I want his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Not necessarily in that order, but yeah.
All three will be happening tonight.
"You'll be the death of me, I fucking swear," Edward grumbles, not looking the least bit sad about it as his hand slips from the wheel to grip my thigh, pinky teasing the seam of my sweats, and…
"I couldn't look sexier right now, huh? Here's you, suited and booted, and I'm in sweats."
Flicking a frown my way, Edward takes a left when I expect him to peel off right, toward the motel on the outside of town. "What are you talking about? You always look sexy as fuck." Like an afterthought, he adds, "I can see your tits through that shirt and I recognize those sweatpants. Your ass looks fuckin' spectacular when you bend over in them."
I...yeah. Not much I can say to that, is there?
"Where are we going?"
Squeezing my leg again before he lets it go to pull the garage remote down from behind the overhead mirror, Edward admits, "I thought we could stay here tonight."
My stomach flips, and not in the good way. "Edward…"
We roll to a stop in the garage, the muffled whir of the door lowering back down the backing track to my thoughts.
This is stupid, and it's way too risky. Anybody could see us, could recognize us here. That's why we go to the motel where the chances of seeing anyone we know is slimmer than slim.
"I'm not doing this where you share a bed with—"
"I broke up with Vicky yesterday." He flashes me a cheeky grin. "Even changed the sheets after she left and everything."
Oh. I...okay.
"It's too public. Your neighbors...they know who I am."
"It's late, nobody's even around, and it's one night, one time, B."
"That's all it takes, Edward," I remind him, memories of bumping into one of my camera crew at a bar way back in the early days of this, whatever it is, putting a lump in the pit of my stomach. He was there with a girl he was trying to hook up with and thankfully didn't see Edward sneaking out while he was otherwise occupied, but it was close.
Too close.
The excitement of a few minutes ago has disappeared, the sickly taste of guilt and shame filling my mouth. "You should take me home," I sigh, sagging against the seat.
"Bella, no." Twisting to face me, Edward twists our fingers together on his thigh. I stare at our hands instead of his face, because I know that even with the hard exterior I've tried to build, there are only four people in this world who can break through.
Fiorella and Jameson. Nonna.
And this man right here.
"Bella, look at me."
Sorry, this bastard right here. He knows exactly what he's trying to do, what I'm trying to do, a smirk in his voice. He has a little chuckle at my expense when he ducks his head and I shake mine, squeezing my eyes shut.
"Look, this doesn't have to be anything. I just got a new stack of movies. We could watch one, order a couple pizzas, drink some beer…hang out."
Blowing out a big breath, I finally allow myself to look up.
I let him catch me.
He knows as well as I do that Netflix and chill never stops at a movie and a few drinks, not with us.
I guess what makes us different is that he doesn't even try to resist, and I know there's no point trying.
~ fd ~
Jennifer Lawrence's character has just found out what a lying toad Chris Pratt's character is in Passengers when Edward bends me over the end of his sectional, my ass in the air, elbows slipping against leather, a breathless moan rushing from me as he wastes no time slamming home.
Nearly two hours of foreplay was more than enough.
"Fffffuck, Edward…"
"That's it, baby. You like that?"
"Yesss," I hiss, pushing back against him, the burn fuelling my desperation, the punishing pace he sets filling the loft with moans and grunts and the slapping of skin on skin. There's nothing delicate or tender about the way we fuck, not tonight.
Not when he flips me over so he can kiss me until we're both breathless.
Not when I scratch lines down his back just to see the way it makes his eyes burn.
Not when we end up over by the window, tinted so that nobody can see in, but Edward can see the city over my shoulder, the cool glass against my back a sharp contrast to the heat of his chest at my front. It reminds me of the scene earlier, of the thrill that Britney described in the post-video chat, her excitement at the thought of anybody being able to walk by and see them.
Arms locked around his neck, legs around his hips, I nip and lick and suck everywhere I can reach.
His breath is mine. My galloping heartbeats are his.
Nothing exists except me and him in those moments.
As he slows his thrusts, a bead of sweat running down from his hairline to pause on his jaw, I can't take the intensity in his gaze. The way he looks at me sometimes…
Sliding my fingers up into his hair, I tug, hard.
"Ungh, fuck."
Eyes squeezed shut, I get a brief reprieve before emerald green snares me once more, almost black as he swivels his hips and sends us both crashing toward oblivion.
"Holy fucking shit, Bella," he pants, pressing me into the window, damp hair against my cheek, forehead pressed against my shoulder while we catch our breath.
"Yeah," I agree, eyes burning as I press an open-mouthed kiss against the curve of his neck. "C'mon, shower."
He carries me there, as ready to put me down as I am to let go of him, I guess.
I've been in the half-bath loads of times, but Edward's en-suite is something else. I cling onto him, our sweaty bodies making it a little difficult; through the hall, down the two steps into his bedroom, then into the bathroom.
The industrial, red brick, black, and dark wood theme carries all the way through the apartment, even in here. Sliding down his body so he can start the shower, I run my hands through my hair, untangling the worst of the snarls as I take it all in. A roll-top tub sits opposite dual sinks and brassy mirrors, the walk-in shower tucked behind a wall. I smile seeing the candles beside the toothbrush holder, knowing they're not something Edward would buy for himself.
They're an Esme-ism, just like the fluffy white towels and the new cheese plant I spotted by the front door when I followed Edward in earlier; he's as bad at keeping plants alive as I am, so I bet it's fake.
"Hey," Edward murmurs, pulling my eyes away from the single toothbrush sitting on the counter, lonely in its glass. His eyes are softer now, his smile gentle.
I can't take it.
Shoving his rock-hard abs, I guide him under the spray and let the water wash away the evidence of what we just did even as the euphoria of it still lingers in my body, my legs a little wobbly, heart still racing. Head tipped back to the water, I give in to the sensations, reminding myself that this is just for tonight, that this time tomorrow I'll be at home with my babies playing the doting wife, missing my hard-working husband while he's away on his business trip.
~ fd ~
He wakes me up first, his hands bracing my knees, spreading them, tongue poised right over my clit.
As soon as I make eye-contact, he pounces.
The second time, it's me who gets to enjoy watching the moment he realizes he's about to get fucked, literally.
"What the…"
Sleepy and adorable, he tries to reach for me but can't.
I found the handcuffs tucked in his nightstand; I don't let myself wonder if he used them with Victoria, or any of the others. I recognize them, though. They're marked from where we couldn't find the key once and he tried to hit them on the bed frame at the motel to break them loose. We found the key in the end, but the little dent in the metal has been a reminder of that panicked few minutes ever since.
Realizing what's going on, he relaxes, long, lithe form stretched out for my perusal—and pleasure. Arms above his head, muscles taut. Abs clenching as I run my nails lightly over them. Thighs tense under mine as I shift up from where I was kneeling over his ankles until his hardening dick is right where I'll want it, soon.
That sexy smirk of his...it's begging to be sat on.
"Oh, yeah," he murmurs, licking his lips when I shimmy up until my knees bracket his shoulders, hands stretched toward the top of his tall fabric headboard. "You want me to lick that pretty pussy, baby?"
"If you don't, I might just leave you here and go find someone who will."
The almost inhuman growl that rips out of him turns me on beyond reason, and...I don't even know what my threat came from. I didn't mean it, not at all, but…
The sex we have as a result?
The best I've ever had.
still loving all your reactions! this tricky little tale is all done now at 18 chapters so updates will be pretty regular, every few days or so, until it's all posted.
and theeeen I have a little treat for y'all, but more on that later.
hugs and much love to my team of beautiful prereaders whose commentary has given me life throughout the writing process with this one xo