slight lemon ahead
No. 4
Bronze hair tickles my thigh, my stomach. His stubble added to the sensation created by his tongue.
Beneath him I lay a shivering mess, arching my back against the cool kitchen counter. One of my feet rests on his muscled back, the other hangs off the edge of the bench. Toes scrunched, fingers curled into his soft tousled hair.
He sets an unforgiving pace thrusting in and out with his tongue, my bare chest heaving from the pleasure. Not caring who hears us I moan out for him, his name. Letting him know it's him that does this to me. I feel his cheeks move against my thighs, a grin creeping onto his face as he brings me higher.
As I near my climax I….
"Bewwa," Seth shakes my arm.
Gasping I sit up, dazed. Did I just… and now his son… god.
"I need help," he whispers.
"What time is it?" I blink leaning over to switch on my lamp.
It's still dark outside.
"I need help," he is desperate for me to listen.
His little face is scrunched in fear.
"Did you have a bad dream?" I know I'm doing that ugly face thing where one eye is open and the other can't quite adjust to the light.
"Yes. A monster got me," he begins to cry into his hands.
Why wouldn't he wake his parents? I look at my alarm clock. It's four in the morning.
"Hey," I sit up pulling back my covers, that's when I notice his wet pants.
Oh my.
"You had an accident," I say, "oh sweetie. Let's get you cleaned up."
"Don't Tell my mummy," he shakes his head, hands still soaking his tears.
This poor child is scared to even tell his mother about… ugh!
"I won't," I say, "it's okay."
Probably doing my back in, I lean down and lift him into my arms, walking down the hall. He might be the same age as his sister but he was a small 5-year-old.
Conveniently my room was right by theirs and Anna's. Their parents, the other side of the house. Probably so no one could hear Edward scream while she tortured him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Don't be sorry. It's not a big deal, buddy," I say, "even I do it sometimes and I'm really old. I'm 24."
"You wet the bed?" He looks up to my face shocked.
"Yeah. My good friend Billy Madison once said it's the coolest," I smile at him, "don't worry. Please don't tell your parents, I told you. It's our secret."
I must make him feel better cause his tears stop completely by the time I strip his bed sheets, change them and put them in the washing machine. I showed him quickly and began to tuck him back in.
"Can you tell me another story?" He whispers.
"Sure," I kneel beside his bed popping his teddy bear beside him, "what's his name?"
"Patchy," he yawns.
"Okay well, Patchy went on a big adventure one day. He wanted to play soccer. So he went to the field and started kicking around the ball. He was really good at it, but his mother told him it was too dangerous. But he knew deep down inside that if he wanted something that badly he wouldn't let anyone tell him he couldn't," I watch his eyes shut and stay put until the light snore starts.
I can't help but stroke his hair out of his head and stare at him for a minute. This little Edward wanted adventure. I wouldn't stop until he got it.
The next morning I'm up early. I complete the laundry sheets and fold them away. The perfect crime.
Then I meet the chef. She's older than me, and had a serious 'don't shit me' attitude. While she spoke to me my mind kept wandering back to the dream Seth had interrupted.
"You listening?" She snaps.
Her accent is strong. She is from Scotland and when she talks too quickly I struggle to keep up with her. Her name is Chef Fiona. A nice name for such a woman. She reminded me of Mrs Trunchbull from Matilda only Fiona swore and smiled more.
"You make the kids supper and I'll focus on the big ones," she says, "Mrs Cullen has them on a strict diet plan."
"Seriously?" I scoff as she hands me a laminated paper.
No spaghetti in sight.
"Prepare their porridge miss or cop an earful of it," she smiles at me, "trust me on this."
"Oh I do," I smile.
I work quickly with Anna cooing at me from her high chair, she watches us prepare food in harmony. By the time I'm done their tired little heads are appearing one by one at the table. Seth is quiet keeping his head down, playing quietly with an action man on his place mat.
"Good job, Swanie," Fiona says.
The new nickname wasn't loved but I wasn't about to correct her.
"Oh yuck," Lucy glares at the bowl in front of her.
"It's not that bad. I made it for you and you said you liked my cooking," I say.
"Bewwa, it tastes like poop," Seth can't get through the sentence without giggling.
What is it with little boys and poop? Anything to see him smiling I suppose.
"Here," I say, "I have an idea."
I walk to the pantry pulling out some honey. I squirt a bit in both of their bowls and stir quickly.
"Say nothing to nobody okay. That will make it sweeter. Just don't tell on me," I smile as the tuck back in.
Fiona and I don't hear another complaint. They eat quietly, stopping every so often to chat. Quickly I feed Anna while chatting with Fiona.
"You've got the groove of it. Last week Lucy threw her plate at me," she smiles, "they're good kids but their mother and father don't try to understand them. You seem to understand them."
"It's not hard," I shrug, "you just need to treat them with respect. Listen to what they say and tell them the truth."
Tanya strolls into the kitchen taking a seat beside Lucy. She doesn't acknowledge her daughters or son. Or me. Not even a smile. Bitch.
"Morning, Mrs Cullen. I am settling in," I begin.
"What is it?" Her stare is solid cold.
I trade a side glance with Fiona before daring to continue. I wipe her baby's food before standing to look at her. Might as well appear to have the upper hand while she is seated. Her husband employed me and she was in his bad books, but I didn't want to push too hard.
"The weather is beautiful outside today and I was thinking I could take the children to a park," I begin.
"Swan. Your job is to look at them. That's it. They don't need a park. They'll be filthy and anyone could drive past and see my children swinging around like monkeys," she rolls her eyes.
Both of her twins keep their eyes down at the table, refusing to look at me or her.
"Ma'am. With all due respect they're children. It's their job to be monkeys," I say.
"And your job is to do as you're told," she snaps.
Edward picks his timing flawlessly. He waltzes into the kitchen jacket flung over his arm, brief case satchel in his hand.
"Oh Fiona, I don't have time again today I'm so sorry. This looks delightful," he looks at the pans of food Fiona has slaved over all morning.
"Mr Cullen. You know me. Take away," she holds up a brown paper bag.
He takes it thanking her.
"Bella. Good morning," he smiles at me before turning to his children, "hey guys. Guess what, your beautiful pictures are in my office so I can see them when I work. Thank you again."
"They did pictures for you?" Tanya looks slightly hurt, but it disappears almost immediately.
"Sure did," he is blunt with her.
"Bewwa is nice," Lucy turns to look up at her dad as he kisses her head.
"Is she? I'm glad you're getting along," Edward's eyes lift to me, a sparkle in them.
"She is learning the rules still," Tanya looks like a stubborn, pissed off bull, "the children have piano lessons and then studies."
"Stud.." don't go there Bells, "I can get them back from the park on time. They just need some air I think."
You're doing well to even look at her considering her husband gave you oral dream sex on her kitchen counter. Even better to look at him.
"I know what my…" Tanya begins to snap at me again.
"The park sounds excellent," Edward interrupts, "I can give you all a lift on my way to the office. I just need to go for a few hours and then I can come home."
"Quick guys. Let's get you changed and not keep your Dad waiting," I clap my hands as I take their empty bowls.
Like cheetahs they both dash from the room giggling with excitement.
"Edward, I just said no," Tanya glares at her husband.
How can she glare at a man that hot? How can she say no?
"I said yes," he shrugs, "I'll help you change them, Bella."
Surprisingly he takes Anna from my arms and begins running after his kids toward their rooms.
"Look," Tanya stands, "these kids are different to the kids you've come across. They're not rats. There's rules, standards. They own more money than you ever will do please don't interfere with how I raise them. Structure is important."
"Oh I agree, Mrs Cullen. But what's money when you live a life off sadness because your mum refused to let you go to the park," I say, "structure is important and this should be part of it. Otherwise they'd turn out like spoilt brats, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."
Fiona coughs back a laugh as I chase after Tanya's babies.
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