Outtake #3
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She bends over the sign she's painting and touches up the lettering. She's concentrating so hard, she runs her tongue around her top lip. It makes my mouth go dry.
That tongue.
More than two weeks ago it was doing things to me that I can't think about without becoming painfully hard. And now it's being wasted on her top lip.
Her top lip doesn't need it. I do.
I also need her hands, and face, and legs, and brain, and words, and ...
Fuck.
I exhale and rub my eyes.
This is ridiculous.
I'm a twenty-four-year-old man. I shouldn't be this distracted by a hot girl. I was never this horny, even as a teenager. And yet, now I can't stop thinking about sex.
Well, not sex in general. Sex with her. And it's not just sex, it's ... complicated.
Once upon a time, I tried really hard to be her boyfriend. I knew my issues were strangling me, but I thought maybe, just maybe, the intensity of my feelings for her would somehow win out.
They didn't.
After I took her virginity, my feelings exploded, and I went into a kind of emotional free fall that destroyed everything in its path. Us included.
In a nutshell, I ruined the best thing that has ever happened to me.
For a while I thought it was for the best, and then for a year after that, I tried to get her out of my system.
Hah.
As if that were possible. Her name is tattooed on every cell. Inscribed bone deep on my heart and body.
Getting her out of my system was never an option.
Then, one fateful night, a million years after we broke up, I offered to drive her home from a party. I practically begged her to invite me in for a drink, and after that …
Well, after that I proved how very not over her I was.
I don't remember much about what happened that night, because the amount of tequila we'd consumed made the whole thing blurry, but I do remember the following morning. I remember waking up naked next to her. I remember my body had clearly been alerted to her presence well before I'd gained consciousness, because my dick was fully at attention and aching like a sonuvabitch. I remember us both agreeing that getting back together would be a terrible mistake. And I most definitely remember abruptly ending the conversation by pinning her to her bed and fucking her within an inch of her life.
The sex that morning was … Jesus, I don't even have words. After suffering without her for so long, being inside her again was almost too much to bear.
Since then, we've been playing this weird game of cat and mouse. We never plan to have sex, but it somehow keeps happening, and now I find myself obsessing about when it's going to happen again.
She's got me spellbound.
The things she does to me are so powerful, they can't be described. And it's not just the standard laundry-list of hormones and lust, either. It's a whole mess of other stuff. It seeps through the pores of our skin whenever we're together. Passes between our mouths when we kiss. Sparks through our hands when we touch. Makes my head spin when I'm as deep inside her as I can be.
To put it simply, she takes my breath away.
Even now as I watch her, I can feel it. I want to touch her so badly I have to lock my knees to stay still. Part of me can't believe I ever had the strength to walk away from her, but then I realize what drove me away in the first place was weakness, not strength. Stupid, self-loathing weakness.
That part is still inside me, whispering to stay away from her, but whenever she's near, it's shouted down by the desperate animal who wants her, no matter the cost.
She straightens up and examines her work, then tilts her head to the side and smiles.
She's never more beautiful than when she's oblivious to how fucking gorgeous she is.
She looks over her shoulder and catches me staring. I shrug as if to say, 'Of course I'm staring. What do you expect?'
I'm supposed to be painting scenery and so far I've done a grand total of fuck all.
It's not my fault. I can't concentrate. Can't stop looking at her. My head is pounding, my dick is hard, and all I can think about is that I shouldn't let myself want her this much, but it's beyond my control at this point. Also, if I don't get inside her in the very near future, my balls are going to explode and kill me.
It's possible.
It's been two weeks. How can it seem like so much longer since I've touched her? It's like some blue-ball temporal anomaly: time spent touching her rushes by at the speed of light. Time spent away from her drags like it's attached to a cement block.
So far, I've been letting her make all the moves, but my patience is wearing thin. It doesn't help matters that she's clearly as horny as I am, if not more so. There's a tension in her she's trying so hard to hide, but I see it. Each time we sleep together it lessens for a while, but it never goes away. The more we deny the pull toward each other, the more unbearable it becomes. Like a wire, winding and stretching, becoming so taut that the merest breeze feels like a hurricane.
The way she's looking at me now? That's the hurricane. The swirling, turbulent lust she so desperately wants to hide but can't. I get caught up in it. Upended and tossed around so thoroughly I get confused as to why I can't be with her.
My logical brain knows what we're doing is stupid, but I have no idea how to stop it. Un-wanting her just isn't possible. Believe me, I've tried. Over a year of trying did nothing but make me want her more, and now the crazy stupid power of what she does to me is completely out of control and has taken on a life of its own, like a living, breathing beast.
She's still staring at me, and I'm staring back. It's fucking ridiculous how hot it is to see her breathing go berserk when she looks at me. Right now every single Victoria's Secret model in the world could be dancing naked in front of me and I'd be completely oblivious. All I can see is her.
"Mr. Cullen."
Irina steps in front of me and I jolt like someone just iced my balls.
"Jesus, Irina!"
She ignores my cardiac arrest and eyes my completely paint-free set piece. "Going well, I see."
"Yeah, well, I like to do things thoroughly or not at all."
Irina raises her eyebrow then glances at Bella. "That much is clear. However, 'not at all' isn't an option for this project, so hurry up. You can stare at Miss Swan in your own time."
As she walks away, Bella laughs quietly to herself.
I scowl. "Shut up. I'm blaming you for that."
"For what?"
"Everything."
"You not doing your work?"
"Yep."
"Irina bitching you out?"
"Yes."
"And you staring at me like it's your job?"
"That too."
She throws up her hands. "How is any of that my fault?"
"I didn't say it was your fault. I said I was blaming you. Now please vacate all angles of my eye line so I can paint this fucking wall."
I exhale and dip my roller in the paint tray. As usual, she doesn't do as she's told. Instead, she walks over to me. I turn my back, as if that could possibly help, and paint the wall a color that can only be described as cock-head purple. Or maybe that's the color I interpret it as because the closer Bella gets to me, the more my dick throbs.
She stands beside me and watches as I roll paint up and down the wall. I feel her eyes all over me, which is freaking ridiculous, but I swear to God it's true.
I exhale, beyond frustrated in every sense of the word. "What are you doing?"
"Watching."
"Why?"
"I like how the muscles in your arms move. Your forearms are ... nice. I like the way they flex."
I drop my roller and glare at her. "Get out."
"What?"
"Get the hell out of here right the fuck now before I drag you into the lighting cage and do something we could both get arrested for."
"But ..."
"Sweet Holy Merciful Jesus, Bella, just go!"
She laughs. And what's more, not only does she not go anywhere, she actually steps forward and puts her hand on my chest.
"Edward, it might just be me, but I'm sensing you're a little tense." She stretches up to whisper in my ear. "You might wanna think about getting laid. A young, virile man like you shouldn't have any trouble finding someone to suck that pretty dick."
As she says the last word, she reaches out with the tip of her tongue, which I've been obsessing about all goddamn morning, and licks my earlobe.
Fuck. Her.
"You know what, Swan?" I say as I step away from her evil devil-woman voodoo. "You're right. I really do need my dick sucked. Hey, Lauren! Wanna blow me?"
Her face goes dark as, across the room, Lauren turns and frowns at us.
"Um ... what did you just say?"
I speak clearer. "My dick. Wanna suck it? Swan thinks I'm sexually frustrated. Pretty sure you could help me out with that."
Yorkie bursts out laughing.
Irina shakes her head. "Mr. Cullen ..."
"Just asking, Irina. She can only say no, right?"
Bella glares like she wants to tear me a new one. Her anger just makes me want to fuck her more.
Lauren looks bewildered. Still, she shrugs and says, "Uh ... okay. Now? Or after class?"
Bella rolls her eyes. "He's joking, Lauren."
"Didn't sound like it."
"Shut up."
Bella grabs my arm and drags me into the lighting cage. Yorkie makes a snide comment about Bella looking like she's going to beat the shit out of me. Irina sighs and warns us that we'd better not damage any lights.
When we're out of sight, Bella shoves me in the chest. "What the hell?"
"What?"
"What do you mean, 'what?' Lauren, you ass."
"Oh, so you're allowed to tease me, but I can't do the same?"
"You asked her to suck your dick!" she whisper-yells.
"You licked my fucking earlobe!"
"It's not the same thing!"
"I know! What you did was so much worse!"
We glare at each other, and I swear to God, the giant beast we're trying to ignore pushes our heads closer together and whispers, "Now ... kiss."
I step back and shove my hands in my pockets. I either need to get inside her, or a bathroom, in the very near future because the ache in my groin has reached epic levels and I need relief.
"Bella, what the fuck are we doing?"
She rubs her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, come on. This! This ... thing between us. We tried staying away from each other. That didn't work. So now we're not staying away from each other, and it's even worse. What are we doing?"
"We're not doing anything."
"Oh, is that right?" I walk her back into the wall, and lean down. "That night we gave up and made love over and over again? And then Yorkie's party two weeks ago? That was nothing? Because it sure as hell felt like something."
"It was sex, Edward."
"Yeah. Amazing sex."
Being this close to her is torture. It was bad enough when she was yards away. Now, I could tilt my head and be kissing her within a fraction of a second.
She's just as screwed. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and I don't even know if she realizes she's gripping my hips and pulling me closer.
"It's no big deal," she says, failing at nonchalance 101.
"Feels like a pretty big deal to me." She's wearing a v-neck t-shirt. Her tits look amazing. I want to lick her cleavage.
"Yeah, well, it's not. I wanted sex and you gave it to me. End of story."
For a talented actress, she's crap at lying.
"Uh huh. So that's all you want from me these days?"
"Yes." Liar. "And don't even pretend that if I wanted you right now, you wouldn't have your pants down in three seconds flat."
"Give me a fucking break. Our whole class is outside. I'm not that desperate."
"Really?" She palms me through my jeans. "You feel that desperate." I place my hand next to her head and lean on the wall. She squeezes me and I have to close my eyes because the room spins.
"Just say the word, Edward, and I'll give you a happy ending."
"You think that's all I want from you?"
"That's all you're going to get from me. And even then, only if you say 'please'."
I put my hand over hers to stop her from rubbing. I seriously can't handle any more right now or I'm going to pop like warm champagne. There's no doubt I find her sexual bitchiness a turn-on, but I'm not going to let her have it all her way. I drop her hand, and push under her skirt. The wetness in her panties gives her away in a second.
"So you're not uncomfortable at all?" I ask, circling my fingers exactly how I know she likes it. She grips my arm but keeps her face impressively impassive. "Because I'm pretty sure I could make you come in about two minutes. Just say the word. You don't have to beg, but it would certainly be nice."
She slaps my hand away and pushes my chest. Her breathing is more ragged than mine.
It gives me sick satisfaction.
My smugness must show because her scowl intensifies. She doesn't like it when I have the power, but if she wants to play sexual politics, then she'd better understand I'm not always going to play fair.
"I don't need you to make me come any more," she says as she smoothes down her skirt. "I have Buzz, remember?"
"Then why do you keep seducing me? If all you want is orgasms, it should be easy to keep your hands off me, right? You have your vibrator and I have my overworked right hand. We should be fucking grinning from ear-to-ear with satisfaction, but we're not. We're standing in a lighting cage resisting the urge to rip each other's clothes off. Why do you think that is?"
She glares at me and I glare back. I'm enough of an asshole to resent the power she has over me and stubborn enough to resist giving into it. I know she's desperate to make this all about sex, but that's not what's going on.
I can see her constantly monitoring her emotions around me, and I get that. I hurt her. It's natural self-preservation. But I don't want her fooling herself that what we're doing is purely physical, because that's bullshit. She knows it. She'd just never admit it.
"Fine," she says and shrugs. "So I guess that's it then. You do your thing and I'll do mine. No more sex."
"If that's what you want."
"I do."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Okay, then." She turns to leave, but I grab her hand and pull her back to me. Then I cup the back of her head and kiss her. Not rough. Just, firm. Every time I kiss her, it's like I've forgotten how soft and delicious her lips are. Today is no exception. She tastes freaking amazing.
She freezes up for about half a second before kissing me back, and then, everything turns into a blur of mouths and hands, and "God, please let me fuck you now."
Our breathing is so loud, I'm paranoid everyone outside can hear us. I don't stop, though. I just kiss her more deeply and try to breathe quieter. It's not easy.
When she's writhing against me and tugging at my hair in a way that usually means 'for the love of God, stick your hand down my pants or I'm going to hurt you,' I pull back and step away. It's a bastard move, but we've already established I'm sick of her having all the power.
"Well, as long as you're sure, then we're done here. No sex it is."
She stares at me in shock for about three seconds before hitting me in the chest. When she goes to hit me again, I grab her hand and press it against my diamond-hard cock. "Remember, it was your decision to have a piece of plastic instead of this. Let me know if you change your mind."
When I drop her hand, she grunts in frustration, and I figure that's my cue to exit.
I adjust my erection before walking out to continue painting my wall.
A minute later, when she emerges, Yorkie points and laughs. "Wow, Swan, judging by your expression Cullen won the argument. Burn!"
"Screw you, Eric."
"Anytime, pretty lady. Let me provide some sexual healing for all that hot-assed rage."
She ignores him and walks out of the theater. The door slams shut behind her.
After that, she doesn't talk to me for a week. Neither does my cock.
There are two more outtakes which follow on from this one. I'll put them up in the next couple of weeks. ;)
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Thanks for reading, sweeties! Hope you're all having a great week!
Love you all!
K x