As always: Everything and anything related to the Twilight saga belongs to Stephenie Meyer. This is a work of fiction based on her writings. No harm is meant by it.
Special thanks and much adoration to my beta freakyhazeleyes.
Chapter Nine: Four down, Twenty-Two to go
Edward felt empty when he woke up the following morning. It wasn't the first time in the last month that he had felt like this, but today, it was worse than ever before.
This was the first weekend he had woken up alone in over a month. It was an odd sensation. He was used to waking up alone, it wasn't a bizarre notion, but in the last month or so he had grown accustomed to the warm body next to him on Sunday mornings. He liked it, more than he should.
He turned over in bed that morning and the empty, extra cold sheets below his bare torso felt unnatural and frigid. Other times, he loved to roll over and find that the other side of the bed was cool, especially in the hot, humid summer months, but now, now it felt barren and lonely.
He needed someone there; he yearned for their warmth.
He stayed on the cool side of the bed trying to warm it up with his own body heat, but it didn't seem to work. Eventually, he mustered up the energy to pull himself out of bed and head to the bathroom.
He used his own toothbrush this time.
Again, he found Bella on the couch, watching infomercials blankly, wrapped up in a wool blanket his mother had bought for them to throw over the couch.
"Good morning," he greeted his voice low in case Bella had a headache. Her brows were furrowed, and her eyes slanted in the way people did to put pressure on where the headache was affecting.
Bella replied meekly. "Morning."
"You okay there, Bells? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine, Edward. I just didn't get enough sleep. I keep having that weird dream."
Edward's body tensed. Even though Bella had explained beforehand that the dream was something entirely different from what he was assuming he couldn't help the sudden sense of concern that swept through him. His heart was beating faster and he could feel the adrenaline in his body working, causing a bead of sweat to form right on the edge of his eyebrow.
"What do you mean by weird, Bella?" Edward asked his voice terse. He was anxious. The last thing he wanted was for Bella to start having those nightmares again.
"Relax, Edward," Bella reassured him, punching him lightly in the arm. "I told you already, it's a good dream—I think. I don't know. I keep waking up because I can't figure out what it means."
Edward's body relaxed upon hearing Bella's explanation. He just couldn't help his reaction. He had always had a sense, a need you could say, to protect the ones he loved, but with Bella, it was in a whole different realm. There was an urgency to keep her safe at all times, to be there to catch her when she fell, to be there to hold her when she cried or when she got upset and tried to punch the wall. It was inexplicable, but he couldn't help.
He just always needed to know that she was safe.
"So, what's so confusing about your dream that you can't seem to sleep?" he asked, curiously. He really wanted to know, and the blush that was slowly starting to spread on her face, was adding to his interest.
Bella shook her head in refusal. There was no way she was going to tell Edward about the faceless man. She had a funny suspicion that he would laugh at her.
"Come on, Bella. Tell me. It must be a really good dream if it's got you all flustered," he teased her, goading her in to telling him. There had to be some reason, a logical explanation as to why she was blushing. "It's a sex dream, isn't it? You're having some kinky sex with someone. Who? Huh? Who? Maybe you're freaked about because it's a sex dream with a girl?" he continued to suggest, trying hard to provoke her into providing him an answer.
"It's not a sex dream!" she all but shouted at Edward, the blanket she had wrapped around her slipping from her shoulder. Edward immediately took notice of the bare shoulder, causing a shift in their conversation.
"Are you naked under that blanket?" he asked, trying to peek.
"Yes," Bella answered, nodding her head in the process, grabbing the flap of blanket that fell from her body. It was cold in the apartment, and even though it was already the middle of April, it was still chilly in the spacious loft.
"The blanket wasn't a part of my win, Isabella. Hand it over!" he insisted, starting to yank it away from her. She held on to it for dear life using all the strength she could muster at eight in the morning. Edward was making it look easy as he yanked it completely away from her with one hand.
He gazed down at her shivering on the couch, as she tried to cover herself up, though it looked more as if she was trying to keep warm.
"Are you cold?" he asked, sincerely already starting to drape the blanket over again.
"Well, it's only April, you dick. You couldn't do this no-clothes thing sometime in June or July, when it's warm," she griped as she wrapped the blanket around her tighter, watching as he walked toward the far side of the living room.
"What are you doing?" she asked, watching as he headed towards the wall, realizing what he was doing.
"I'm turning up the heat. You will be walking around here naked for the rest of the week, except for when you leave for work and just after you arrive home from work. Understood?" His voice was stern, his demeanor severe. He was trying to intimidate Bella, and for a few brief seconds, it had worked. He had noticed the way her eyes had widened, and her breathing had picked up.
"Got it, Bella?" he asked again, showboating to reaffirm that he had been victorious last night. It was all really because she had avoided answering his question about her dream earlier. They never kept secrets from each other, and though he knew she would eventually tell him, the fact that she wouldn't tell him right away dismayed him. It felt almost like a betrayal.
"Yes, I got it, Edward, but for right now, I'm keeping the blanket, until it's warm enough," she argued, pouting much like a child who's mother wouldn't buy her the chocolate bar she wanted.
"Good. Now go make some breakfast. I'm hungry," he ordered her, but his tone was playful. Hearing that, Bella threw one of the couch pillows, actually hitting Edward on his shoulder. Edward gasped in surprise while Bella cheered in triumph.
"Holy shit, I can't believe that actually hit me," he sounded shocked as he picked up the pillow and made to throw it at Bella, but instead he just lobbed it back on to the couch on the way to the kitchen.
"Me neither. That's Edward seven million, Bella, one! Woohoo! I'm finally on the board!" she cheered, Edward laughing at the juvenile display.
"It's actually, eight million and four to your one. Get the stats right!"
"Whatever, Mr. Perfect," Bella murmured her voice patronizing. She stood up from her seat and settled into one of the kitchen chairs. Her eyes widened the moment they landed on the table. Almost in the blink of an eye, images from the night before started flooding her mind. There was the picture of her lying on the table. The image of Edward's face between her legs. The image of the kitchen light that she kept looking up into as Edward brought her to new heights. The image of Edward standing beside her as he fingered her into oblivion.
"You okay, there?" Edward asked, smirking at Bella. He had noticed the dazed look on her face the moment her eyes had landed on the kitchen table. She had been thinking about last night, and that was exactly what he had wanted. He wanted the first thought she had, the one thought she would ever have about the kitchen table to be about what had happened. Call him wily if you would like, but knowing that he was the reason for the glazed looks on many women's faces brought a smile to his face. He was a man, dammit. He loved knowing that he was great in the sack; well in this case, on table.
"I'm fine," Bella answered, her voice wavered. She was letting her fingernails follow the grain pattern on the wood table, stopping to circle a knot by her elbow a few times.
"Are you sure? You looked kind of astounded."
"I'm fine, really! Um...did you clean the table last night after, you know..." Bella let her voice trail, blushing at the mere thought of what took place.
"I knew that was what you were thinking about," Edward chuckled, getting progressively louder as the blush on Bella's face intensified. "Don't worry about it. I Clorox-ed, Lysol-ed, threw an A-bomb on the table last night after you squirted," he stated matter-of-factly like it was no big deal, but Bella grew red, redder than Edward had ever seen before.
"Could you not say that, please?" she pleaded, her voice almost inaudible.
"Say what? Squirt? Squirty, squirt, squirt, squirt?"
"Ugh, please! It just sounds so disgusting," she proclaimed, hiding her face in her hands. Edward, always one for mischief, decided to tease Bella some more. With her head in her hands, she couldn't see Edward crouching down beside her, until it was too late.
"I bet it didn't feel disgusting. I bet it felt good, real good. One might say, it was orgasmic, earth shattering, pleasure like no other," he whispered into her ear. Bella shuddered as the heat from his mouth caused the hairs on her neck to stand, but that didn't stop Edward's verbal assault on Bella's shame.
"I bet, you wouldn't mind a repeat performance, right now," he told her, swiftly pulling her out of the chair and onto the table.
"Edward!" Bella yelled as her bare back lay against the cold table. She tried desperately to grab the fallen blanket, but she couldn't reach, especially with Edward beginning to straddle her.
"Bella," he practically growled, grinding his hips into hers. "You have an amazing figure, Bells. I will never understand why you choose to hide it behind frumpy clothes."
"You sound like Alice," she mustered out as she struggled against Edward's grasp. He was easily holding down both her arms with one of his hands. The other was caressing the underside of one of her breasts.
"Alice tends to know things, even when she shouldn't," he remarked, keeping his touch light. There was something incredibly sensual about holding someone captive under you. He could see the pleasure it had brought Bella when she had tied him up. From this position, you could feel the other person's pulse racing under your hand holding their wrists. You could feel their arousal clearly. From this position, you could get just about anything you wanted. It was a position of complete dominance, and he loved it.
The power was intoxicating.
"Edward, what are you doing?" Bella asked half-hearted, and Edward could tell. As much as she was putting up a fight, she was still enjoying the situation she was in.
"Nothing," Edward suddenly said, hopping off of Bella and the table, leaving Bella bewildered. She followed Edward's lead and got off the table and sat back down in her chair, sans blanket, still perplexed by what just happened.
"You see," Edward began. "No blanket!" he remarked from his spot by the stove. He cracked an egg into the sizzling skillet. Bella pouted at the revelation.
"Do your coworkers know how much of a douche bag you are?" she chided, crossing her arms over her bare breasts, the smile on Edward's face faltered.
"No, at work everyone thinks I'm the perfect gentlemen!" he answered, while tending to the eggs.
"Narcissistic much?" Bella condemned, as she crossed her legs, now concealing everything Edward wanted to see.
"Whatever. Go grab some plates and some juice," he ordered her as he flipped the eggs one last time before placing one on the two plates Bella just put out. He sat down in his chair and joined Bella as she started to eat.
"You know what the best thing about eggs cooked sunny-side up?" Edward asked, his voice almost giving away what he was about to say.
"Enlighten me, Edward."
"They squirt when you rip at the yolk!" he answered, demonstrating his point and taking a bite of his breakfast.
"Asshole," Bella muttered as she poured herself a glass of cranberry juice.
"You'll pay for the remark on Saturday, Ms. Swan. Speaking of which, get your beauty marked ass up and go get the hat!"
"Asshole!" she barked at him as she got up to get the hat. Edward watched pleased as her naked hips swayed as she walked to his bedroom. He was so tempted to follow her and start the next weekend right then and there, but Bella was out of the room before he could even finish the thought.
"Hurry up and pick the damn letter!" she huffed impatiently as she held the hat out to him.
"You're a sore loser, Isabella," he countered, pulling one of those magical knots of paper out of the hat. Just as quickly as he read the letter, he tossed the paper into the garbage, ripping it to shreds beforehand. It fell like ominous confetti into the trash.
"I'm gonna love this week, and this weekend…HOLY SHIT! This weekend is going to be awesome!"
"Lovely," Bella replied, trying to sound disinterested, but she was probably more excited for the weekend than Edward was. Saturday's were quickly beginning to become her favorite day of the week.
"Ah, stop being so bitchy. We've got four down, twenty-two more to go, Squirt."
"Fuck you, Edward!"