Here is chapter three for you all, a night earlier than planned. I am sick and can't sleep, so decided to post to keep myself busy :)
It gets a little bit lemony at the end - just a head's up ;)
MUSE
My thoughts are still pretty disjointed as I make my way home from school, and I try my hardest to focus on the road before me. The drive is like clockwork and I simply move the gear stick in my hand when I need to, barely noticing when I approach roads that I need to turn down. I've done this journey in my car almost every day for the past year; so much so that I would have said that I could do it in my sleep.
After my conversation with Mr. Cullen, I feel like my mind has changed. The journey suddenly seems different, unfamiliar.
It's almost as though I can feel that my life has shifted, and my body is now acutely aware of some unprecedented conversion.
Scrunching my nose, I attempt to correct my thoughts.
Don't be so stupid, Bella. Nothing's changed. You're going to walk into class tomorrow, and nothing is going to be different. Stick to boys your own age.
The logical, mature side of my brain is currently winning, flooding my mind with realistic statements. I want more than anything to agree, but I can feel the devil on my shoulder dragging me towards cloud cuckoo land.
If I played up to my schoolgirl appeal, I couldn't cause that much trouble, could I?
A loud honk behind me brings me back to the red light that my car sits before, which has flashed green during my musings.
"Shit," I mutter as I hold a hand up in apology, pressing down hard on the accelerator.
For the rest of the drive, I turn up the volume of the radio station that already blares through my car, until the bass causes the mechanism to shake. I recognise most of the tunes that they play, singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs. My cries aren't in tune and I stumble over some of the words, but it's better than submitting to what I actually want to think about.
Curse men and curse my wandering brain.
I count my blessings as I finally turn into my driveway, parking behind the Range Rover that sits before our garage doors. Dad always moaned at Mom about buying a new model, but it had been her first purchase after securing the job at Forks Memorial Hospital. Her and I held fond memories of it, even though it could definitely do with a new paint job.
She sometimes joked that she would divorce him if he sold it.
Walking through the expansive front door, I notice a tuffet of flame-red curls pottering around in the kitchen. The smell of roasting salmon wafts throughout the house.
"Hey, Matty!" I gush as I round the corner. Her eyes go wide momentarily, clearly not expecting me, but then her face breaks into a grin.
"Ahh, Isabella, don't ya creep up on me like that," She exclaims, her thick Irish accent enveloping her every word.
Matilda is an older woman, with freckles littering her skin and wrinkles tickling the sides of her eyes when she smiles.
She came into our family when I was a baby as a live-in nanny, looking after me when Mom and Dad were at work for most of the day. She used to care for me so much that, when I was younger, I genuinely believed that she was my biological mother. We had developed a close bond over the years – I adored listening to her stories about her childhood in Cork, the way her "mammy" would chase her down the street with a wooden spoon if she misbehaved, and, in return, I gave her fashion advice and would gossip with her about boys at school.
As I had gotten older, Mom and Dad decided to appoint Matilda as our live-in maid. Although, truth be told, she was more like an extension of our family.
"Sorry, I figured you would have been used to me by now. You know, considering how long we've lived together." I tease, winking at her as I grab an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the kitchen counter. I bite through its skin, savoring the sweet juice that fills my mouth.
"Ya got me there," Matilda laughs, drizzling oil over a tray of asparagus. "How was school today then, pet?"
It was the best day of my life, Matty. I laid eyes on the most gorgeous man I have ever seen, and I wanted to rip his clothes right there and then.
"It was whatever really. I'm ready to be done with it all, just wanna go to college now."
"Don't let your Ma and Pa hear you say that. Not with how much money leaves their pocket for that damn place."
"Money, schmoney," I quip, twirling the stalk of the apple around in my fingers. It snaps off quickly. "It was their choice to send me to private school. Can't have the Chief's daughter mixing with the peasants of Forks."
"Isabella Swan!" Matilda wiggles the spatula she is holding in my direction. I stick my tongue out at her.
"I was just kidding, Matty. There's nothing wrong with public school." I shudder humorously and she catches onto my joke, rolling her eyes and chuckling again.
I had nothing against public school – it was one of my usual tricks, trying to get a reaction out of those around me. Honestly, if it meant that I got to spend more time with my parents, I would rather they had no money at all.
"How comes you're cooking so early?"
"Your mom has to go back into theatre tonight. Apparently, they're short-staffed. At least, that's what she told me before she disappeared into her office again."
"Of course," I groan. "Typical."
"I wouldn't interrupt her if I were you. You know what she's like when she's stressed."
Grimacing, I turn towards our staircase. "You're right. Thanks."
As I begin to walk away, she calls out to me. "Dinner will be about an hour. I'll call you when it's ready."
Pushing the piece of fish around my plate, I watch the way that the pink flesh flakes beneath my fork. A rogue pea intercepts the route that I travel, and I change the focus of my attention, piercing the green ball with a heavy hand. Metal scrapes against ceramic uneasily.
"Do you have to play with your food, Bella?" Renee grumbles across the table, glaring at me through loose amber curls. In one hand, she holds a forkful of food; with the other, she scribbles illegible notes in an open folder. "You're not a child anymore."
"Sorry, Mom," I murmur, placing my cutlery back down on the table. "I'm not hungry."
She looks at me with an exasperated expression.
"Really? Matty worked really hard on this dish today. It was a recipe that one of my patients gave me."
I shrug at her. "I'm just not hungry. It's nothing personal."
"Leave her be, Renee," Charlie says, finally contributing to the conversation. He is also working at the table, typing back emails slowly on the small screen of his smartphone, glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose. "She probably just ate at school. We pay them enough. Too right they're feeding her."
She nods without looking at him, writing something else on the paper before her. "Sorry, baby."
I let my lips curl into a short smile, but I am unsure why I do.
It's not as though anyone at the table notices.
Dinners between Charlie, Renee, and I are few and far between. Usually, they just take food to their respective jobs: Charlie is Forks' Chief of Police, so would usually eat with the rest of the guys on shift; Renee is one of the country's most celebrated surgeons, specializing in liver procedures, so would usually eat between surgeries and appointments. They are both successful in their own right, but it left little time for any success between us as a family.
"Tell us about your day then, Bells," Charlie enquires, keeping his eyes locked on his phone.
I decide to play up to his lack of attention.
"You know, there was actually a lot that happened, Dad."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. In the morning, there was an alien invasion, and most of my classmates got abducted."
Charlie's thumbs scurry across the illuminated screen. "Oh wow, anything else?"
"Gordon Ramsay came and cooked us a five-course meal for lunch, before I spent the afternoon playing polo with Rosalie and Alice on a unicorn."
"Sounds like a very exciting day, my love."
I sigh. "Were you listening to anything I actually said?"
He finally looks up at me, studying my face for a moment before wincing.
"Uhm, yes…you mentioned something about Rosalie and Alice?"
Groaning, I push my chair away from the dining table, eager to find Matilda and force her to watch re-runs of Desperate Housewives with me.
Anything would make me feel better than being down here.
"Where do you think you're going?" Renee asks, finally closing the folder in front of her.
"I don't know. To hopefully get abducted by aliens too."
"Sit," Renee points an index finger at my chair, and I grudgingly fall into the seat again. "I want to talk to you about something first."
"What?"
"Your new English teacher, Mr. Cullen. I heard that he started at the Academy today."
Now, this was a conversation I could get involved in.
"Uh, yeah, he did. How do you know?"
"His father, Carlisle," I notice Charlie glance sideways at Renee. "He just started at the hospital with us. A very kind gentleman. He was telling me about his son."
"What did he say?"
Perhaps my interest is too obvious, but I'm eager to find out as much as I can about my copper-haired stallion.
"Not much, just that they recently moved into town and his son, Edward, secured a temporary position at your school."
His name was Edward? It seemed strong, mysterious. The name of a proper man.
"Yeah, he seems alright. Just a normal old guy really."
Hopefully, Charlie and Renee couldn't see through my blatant lie.
"Isabella Swan! He is not old – Carlisle told me that Edward was only in his early thirties."
I let Renee's statement roll around in my mind for a few moments, comparing it to my own age.
Eighteen and early thirties?
Realistically, it would be around a ten-year age difference between us, possibly stretching to fifteen. For most girls my age, a number like that would put them off a pursuit.
Not me.
If anything, it only made me hungrier to see how far I could push Mr. Edward Cullen.
"He should really see about investing in some hair dye, then. His grey hairs made him look much older."
This was another lie. I quite enjoyed the way his sideburns were peppered with flecks of grey. They made him look wise, experienced.
"For goodness sake, we didn't raise you to be so rude."
I shrug. You barely raised me at all.
"If you're going to continue to have such an attitude, you're welcome to go to your room. I've got to go to theatre now anyway." Renee announces as she stands, readjusting the white coat that has crumpled slightly on her forearms.
"Is Matty staying here tonight?"
"I believe so," She calls out, pulling her satchel onto her shoulder. "Although, I think she's visiting a friend first. She said she would be back later on."
"Oh, right."
"You're a big girl, you'll be alright on your own."
When Charlie stands as well, my heart deflates slightly.
"Are you going now too?"
"Afraid so, Bells," He says, chugging the rest of the orange juice in his glass. "Forks isn't going to protect itself."
The two of them barely even glance at one another as they head towards the front door, and the feeling of loneliness is almost suffocating as I listen to their car tires scrape against our driveway.
In the emptiness of the house, my footsteps echo loudly along every floor, and I try not to concentrate on how awful it makes me feel. The school bag I have pulled onto my shoulder feels uncomfortably heavy, and the myriad of doors that I pass are unnerving and somewhat ominous.
Renee and Charlie's intensive careers had blessed us with the most gorgeous home – a sprawling house, modern in construction and a slight eye-sore compared to the quaintness of Forks itself. They had designed the build themselves, pouring their heart and soul into every room, eyes sparkling with newlywed anticipation.
In recent years, their eyes had ceased to glimmer in the same way.
Chucking my bag onto my bed, I pull off my shoes and socks, padding in my bare feet across to my en-suite bathroom. Twirling the hot tap between my fingers, I clean my face while I waited for the tub to fill, steam swirling in the air around me.
Submerging my body into the fervid water below, I finally arrive at a state of ecstasy. The warm liquid soothes my aching muscles, and I feel them relax in the veil of bubbles. All-day, I have been the embodiment of control, stretching each inch of myself as taut as I could. I feel like I have run ten marathons in a row, before swimming to Australia and parachuting from a damn plane.
The limit of my thirst had been tested the moment I laid eyes on Mr. Cullen's chiselled jawline, aching to run my tongue across its grooves. The memory of his deep voice spills into my thoughts, rich and smooth, flowing over my skin like melted chocolate.
The veins that decorate the surface of his hands.
The ferocity of his emerald stare.
The way he asked me to imagine what pastimes he enjoyed.
I am never usually this submissive when it comes to the male species, but he is unlike anyone I have ever met before. He is older, sophisticated, and completely forbidden. The knowledge that I can't want him as much as I do makes the heat between my legs build, and the softness of my nipples pucker in the dewy air that has gathered.
If I can't have him physically, there is nothing stopping me mentally having some fun.
Using an arm that rests on the side of the tub, I trail my fingers down my chest, between my breast and across my hips, until I locate my clit, swollen and desperate for my touch. I picture Mr. Cullen kneeling beside me, shirt-sleeves up at his elbows, and his forearm submerged in the water, hand replacing my own.
As I begin to swirl my forefinger in a clockwise motion, his picturesque face is all I can see, lips slightly parted with fervour. I imagine the muscles in his jaw tensing as he watches how sensitive I am to his touch, back arching as he continues his assault.
When I bring my other hand to my breast and begin tweaking my plump nipple, I picture his emerald eyes twinkling mischievously.
"You know, Miss Swan," I envisage him whispering into my ear. "You look delectable when you play with yourself."
My pace has increased with the devilment of my thoughts, the sound of water splashing against ceramic echoing around the room. I am panting, writhing, moaning breathlessly as I edge towards euphoria, wholly focused on my rugged Adonis.
Teetering on the brink of my climax, I have completely submitted to my fantasy, intoxicated by him, stars dancing behind my closed eyes.
I can't help the word that escapes from my lips.
"Edward," I whimper as I finish, hips bucking up against my moving fingers. The sensation is powerful, encompassing my entire body, unleashing a fiery explosion between my legs.
The intensity is incredible, and I know that it is only him that has made me feel this way. When I usually make myself come, my orgasms are usually brief, fleeting, forgetful.
Today, with the image of Mr. Cullen in my mind, it is wholly devastating.
"Bella, are you in there?"
Three gentle taps on the door bring me back to the present and the dullness of my thrill. Mr. Cullen isn't actually here, and the Irish accent that travels through the wood means that Matty almost caught me getting myself off.
Shit.
"Uhm, yeah, it's me! Gimme a few minutes, I'm almost done!"
Even in the privacy of my own home, Edward Cullen has possessed me, and I've allowed myself to dangerously succumb to the pleasure of him.
I feel like the game between us is not fair.
I need to make sure he is just as absorbed in thoughts of me.
Running my tongue across my lips, my mind is ablaze with mischief.
If Mr. Cullen wants to play dirty, I'm going to make sure to pollute the both of us, wholly and completely.
I really liked how this one turned out, but, as always, I love hearing what you think! Leave a review - they always leave a little smile on my face, and lets me know I'm doing a decent job!
Happy reading :D