14

It's not a terrible way to wake up: a swivel of Edward's salt-and-pepper head when he hears the sheets rustle, the lift of his bushy eyebrows when he discovers my eyes are open, and the grin that drills a dimple into his left cheek. "Good morning."

Normally, those two words don't coexist, but Edward makes all things possible. "Mmm."

He's not only fully dressed, but his camera is slung around his neck as if he's ready to walk out the door right now—or maybe he's already been out for coffee and come back. "Ready for another day of exploring?"

"Yep." I am, indeed, but what I want to explore is sitting in an arm chair, watching me with great curiosity and high expectations.

He stands up and claps his hands together. "Well, let's go! Up and at 'em!"

"Nuh-uh."

Now he's perplexed, hands on hips, head tilted as if he can understand me better at a forty-five-degree angle "No?"

I push the covers off—all the way off—and crook my finger.

The light bulb goes on. "Oh! Well, when you put it like that…" He crawls up from the foot of the bed, and I meet him halfway, stopping him with my hand on his chest.

"Close your eyes," I say. "I have something for you."

"Oh yeah?" His eyes give off a playful sparkle just before they close. Edward knows this game.

I lean forward to kiss him, and just as our lips meet, my boob slaps the camera, which bangs into Edward's chest.

"Shit! Sorry! Are you okay, Bella?"

"Yeah, but I think that close-up was a bit too close for comfort."

"Here, let me kiss it and make it feel better." Edward doesn't wait for an answer before closing his lips around my "wound."

"Good to know chivalry is alive and well and living in Napa Valley."

He grins up at me, and my breast slips out of his mouth. "I better check out the other one to make sure there's no collateral damage."

"Very thorough, Dr. Cullen."

His muffled laughter vibrates through my chest. He completes his examination with a soft kiss on each nipple. "The hooters are better than ever."

"Awesome. Perhaps you should take that camera off to prevent further injury?"

"Probably a wise plan." Edward reaches for the strap, pulls it over his head, then freezes with his arms in the air. "Although…"

The look he gives me could melt the polar ice cap. Neither of us needs to say a word. He lifts the camera to his eye.

Permission granted.

I back away slowly, scooting toward the pillows, my eyes absolutely riveted to the camera, to the artist behind the camera—or is it the man? I can't separate them anymore. Honestly, I don't want to.

It's a dance between object (me) and viewer (a giant, unyielding eye cradled between Edward's talented hands). I lead, stretching my arms overhead along the mattress, extending my legs down the length of the bed. My graceful but greedy partner moves around me, holding himself just out of reach. The tantalizing voyeur, not the least bit hesitant or apologetic this time.

I remember this heady sensation from the first time I posed in Edward's studio, the deliciously erotic thrill of being seen and recorded, feeling wanted and worthy of the artist's eye. It's all so much more intense now that neither of us needs to pretend this isn't sexual. I can't tell where he's focused, what he's shooting. The lens zooms in and out. He moves like a thief in the night, but it's too late for Edward to pretend he's not here.

He fuels my response, and then he captures it.

We're each other's cause and effect. Edward is hard, and I am wet. It's time to do something about that.

I push up onto my elbows. A soft grunt escapes the sexy mouth visible beneath the camera. I slide toward Edward on my belly like water moving through a riverbed. He retreats; I follow. He jumps to his feet on top of the bed, Vans and all, shooting me from above.

I grasp him by the ankles, walk my hands up his calves, and slip them right inside the legs of his shorts. He lets out a tortured moan as my palms meet in the middle. I pull myself to my feet and kiss him, but the damn camera gets in our way again. I lift the strap over his head and drop it around my neck.

He steps back, completely amused at the sight of me, naked but for his camera. "Damn, you look great on that side of the camera too."

Which gives me an idea.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but how hard can it be? Point and shoot. I lift the camera to my face, mimicking how Edward holds it.

"Um, Bella, what are you doing?"

"Silly photographer! I'm taking your picture." At least, I think I am. I see his face, I push the button, I hear a click.

He smirks into the lens and waits patiently for me to stop taking pictures, but I don't. He moves on to Plan B: holding out his hand. "Okay, give it back."

"Nuh-uh."

"Bella…"

I step back. "Come on. Fair is fair. Take off your clothes."

I capture the perfect double-eyebrow pop of his complete shock. "What?"

"Haven't you ever wanted to try—"

"Nope." He crosses his arms over his chest.

I recognize his resolve; I've bumped up against one of Edward's boundaries. I have zero desire to ruin the mood by pushing him about something he feels strongly about, even if I don't understand it.

"No worries," I say, lowering the camera, "but just so you know, it's kind of a turn-on." As if he couldn't tell what he was doing to me with his lens.

"Yeah, I don't think I need any help in that department."

I give his lovely erection a friendly rub. "I can see that."

He closes in, gently removes the camera from my hand and lifts the strap over my head. "How about I set this down now, and we finish what we started?" He cups my chin in his free hand and distracts me with a soft kiss. It's highly effective.

I've never seen a person undress more efficiently. Edward kicks off his shoes while hopping across the mattress to the nightstand, where he places the camera. His shirt disappears with a single sweep of one arm that I might need him to teach me later. He's mastered the art of removing his underwear along with his shorts.

I barely have time to catch my breath before he straddles my waist and pins my hands over my head. His erection sits heavy and eager on my belly.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was not to touch you when you were lying here like this?"

"I could say the same about you, Mr. Hot Photographer."

Compared to the impersonal camera lens, Edward's gaze is a heatwave. I hold my breath as his fingertips start down either side of my neck and trail a line straight to my breasts. He grasps them, suddenly impatient and gruff. I draw in a sharp gasp and buck my hips beneath his thighs.

He bends forward and works his tongue over the tight pink knots, first one, then the other, and drops a line of kisses down, down, down my belly. He wriggles my thighs open with his shoulders and settles between them. Have at it, baby.

For Edward The Giver, the fact that we're both stone-cold sober in a room bathed in sunlight won't even be a speed bump. His lips touch my opening, a sweet kiss hello. Sigh.

I tip my chin to watch the crown of his head dance between my legs as his tongue traces the landscape. His soft, unhurried strokes are a welcome change from… from what I don't have to settle for anymore.

I reach down to run my fingers through his hair, a gesture of appreciation and encouragement, not that Old School would even consider stopping before I spasm with ecstasy. If he had to, he'd work that tongue of his to death—hard labor at the clitoris.

HOLY SHIT, that feels good. I mean, that feels really fucking good. Warm breath, soft tongue, and what is happening with those fingers? He's inside me, on me… I can't track all the delicious sensations.

He laps at me like a hungry kitten, moaning and purring at his meal. Tension builds, pressure, an elastic band pulled tighter, tighter...

Is this… Am I going to…?

Oh, GOD, I AM!

A low, keening wail bubbles up from my belly. The pleasure is a string Edward pulls tighter and higher until I float and squeal and gasp for air.

When I can breathe again, what I drag into my lungs is more like club soda, light and fizzy, tiny bubbles popping inside my head. Like I just blew up a dozen balloons and I'm all out of oxygen.

The afterglow is this beautiful, lingering pulse, a soft throbbing that leaves me satisfied yet greedy for more. Any other guy would be gloating right now about his mad skills, scrambling as fast as his knees could carry him toward my mouth, all "My turn, baby!"

I peek down there to see what's what, and I find Edward, rolled onto his side, relaxed as can be, fluttering his fingertips over my skin like a whisper, drawing me out in the sweetest possible way.

"Hey, c'mere, you."

He glances up, registers my blissful expression, and saunters up my body—in no rush, even though I can feel his need, hard against my thigh. He heaves a sigh as he sinks into my side, as if he's the one who just had the best orgasm of his life.

"Well, Mr. Cullen, I'm afraid you've set the bar impossibly high."

He chuckles into my left boob, tickling me with his scruff. "I wouldn't worry too much," he answers, "I'm really easy."

I hitch my right leg over his hip. "I was referring to your next outing, not mine."

His laughter breezes across my skin. "Oh! Challenge accepted."

"Speaking of challenges…"

Open and ready for adventure, as always, he smiles. "Yessss?"

"Do you think you could lie still so I can have my turn?"

Edward does not need to be asked twice. He flops onto his back and clasps his hands behind his head. "Not making any promises about lying still."

He's beyond hopeless at keeping still—or quiet, for that matter—nearly jumping out of his skin at the first swirl of my tongue, but damn, is it fun watching him try. Crouched naked between his legs, I grin up at him, teasing my tongue around the tip, imagining exactly how I must look from his vantage point.

I close my fist around him. He hisses and groans, tugs on my hair—all he can reach of me—and tosses his hips from side to side.

We both know how this ends, but I take it as a personal challenge to push his epic self-control to the limit.

I'll start you off slow, baby. Kiss, kiss, lick. Mmm. Feels good, doesn't it?

Swallowing you all the way down because I love the feel and taste of you in my mouth. Up and down and up and down. Mmm.

Do you like it when I roll your balls around inside my cheeks? Warm and wet, you like that? Mmm.

Are you good and relaxed, baby? Time to whip you up!

Oh, what's this, now? A hand and my mouth…? Pump, swallow, pump, lick.

"Ahhhh."

Oh yeah, I love it when you moan for me.

"Mmmmm."

That's it, baby, throw your hips into it… Stroke, stroke, stroke… Breathe…

"Ahh, ahh, ahhhhh…"

No, no, baby, not yet. Easy… easy…

Here you go, again. Come on, that's it, baby.

"Ahhhh."

Swallow, pump, swallow, pump…

"Ah, ahh. ohhhh…FUCK!"

Aw, was that a growl? Poor baby. Okay, no more teasing.

Here we go. That's it. Come on, that's it, stay with me!

"Ahh, ahh, AHHHHH!"

Yesss. Beautiful.

God, I love watching you come.

He peers out beneath the arm flung across his eyes. "Well, that was…"

"Amazing?"

"Ha! I was gonna say 'mean'! I never noticed how evil you were," he says. "Good thing I got to see this side of you before things got serious between us." He opens his arms and I climb inside them.

"Yeah, you really dodged a bullet there."

His laughter is the best prize. "I really hate to say this, but I have to get up."

"What, why?"

He leaves a soft kiss in my hair and rolls off the bed. "I need to make a phone call, and I am about to die of thirst."

He's so much fun to watch as his pole leads him like a divining rod to the bottle of water on the desk. He chugs half of it, screws the cap on, and tosses it to me on the bed. "Drink up. I'm not done with you."

Gah!

I am completely charmed by bare-assed Edward picking up the house phone and shifting into business mode. "Yes, we're going to need a late checkout in room 407. What's the latest we can stay? Okay, that'll be fine. And can you have room service send up two cheeseburgers with fries? Perfect—"

"Ahem!"

He glances at me and breaks into a wide smile. "And a hot fudge sundae with a mound of whipped cream. Great, thank you very much."

He slips into the bathroom and returns to bed a few minutes later, tossing two condoms at my feet.

"Two?"

He shrugs. "I don't want to have to leave this bed again."

"Don't you think we should shower at some point?"

"After lunch," he says. "I have a feeling it's going to be a very messy affair."

"I can only imagine." And I do: whipped cream and hot fudge sauce everywhere.

He claps his hands. "What's next?" he asks, as if planning our next vineyard tour.

"Hmm." I eye his half-cocked cock. "You. On your back. Now."

"Yeah? You like it on top?"

"Yes, I can work off my cheeseburger in advance."

He crawls to the middle of the bed and rolls onto his back. "What about me?"

I shrug. "That's your problem." And that's the last word on the topic before the kissing begins.

His recovery time is impressive, which is helpful because our lunch is going to come knocking at the door soon. He's wrapped and ready and with some not-very-romantic (to be honest) push-me-pull-you, I'm on top and he's inside me. And then everything is sexy again.

I love how his abs flex and retreat as his hips press up to meet mine, love hearing his sexy grunts when he pushes into me, love how he grips my ass with both hands, sliding me up and down his shaft.

I drop forward, my hands on his shoulders, my tits dangling over his face. He figures it out quickly, his mouth breaking into that sexy grin just before he lifts his head and flicks his tongue at my nipple. He strains toward me like a kid eating donuts off a string at a Halloween party, bobbing for nipples.

"Mmm, how'd you know this is my favorite position?"

Gee, I wonder. Boys and boobs? "Wild guess."

We ramp up our tempo and fall into a rhythm. My thighs are sore from the biking, but the burn feels good. Everything feels good.

I ease back into his hips, sit up straight in the saddle, and lift the hair off my neck. Edward regards me with sheer wonder, as if he's seeing his first rainbow—er, double rainbow, by the way he eyes my bouncing breasts.

"God, that's perfect," he says, licking his lips and thrusting a little harder. "Bella, would you mind if I…"

I'm sure he's gonna squeeze his eyes shut and roar through me like a freight train, but he surprises me and tips our joined bodies toward the nightstand. He stretches for the camera strap, which he snags with one finger and drags to his side.

"May I, please?"

"Knock yourself out."

The rodeo ride slows to a trot while Edward snaps a few shots of my chest, but it's all good. He's having so much fun. He reminds me of a little boy who just got his sports idol's autograph, except it's just me and they're just boobs.

Happy and horny, he sets the camera down on the bed, and we're off to the finish line. His orgasm sets off mine—or who knows, maybe it's the other way around—but we're two blissed out, sexed-out, boneless jellyfish afterward. I bend down to give him a kiss, which he deepens.

"Bella, do you know how happy you make me?"

"I could probably make an educated guess right now."

He chuckles. "I don't want you to guess. I want you to see it. Here." He hands me the camera. "Take my picture."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Like this?" He's still inside me.

"Yes. Just the way we are right now."

I lift the camera to my eye, and he smiles.

"Do I need to focus or anything?"

"Nope, just aim at whatever you want and push the button."

I've already found it—his smile. Click. His eyes. Click. His hand, sliding up my leg—click—resting on my thigh—click. His expression—click—the face of a man who is content exactly where he is—click—and isn't moving any time soon—click.

Except…

"Room service."

###


Author's Note: So, when I was growing up, we had about 8 TV channels to watch at any given time: 3 networks + PBS, then a handful of UHF signals, depending on how the antenna was aimed and the weather. Every year on Super Bowl Sunday, one of the other stations played a movie on "for the other set," which came in awfully handy in Cleveland Browns territory. That ain't exactly the case these days, with a bazillion TV stations and the offerings of Netflix, Hulu, iTunes, Amazon, and whatever you downloaded from god-knows-where, but if you're not a football fan, please consider this story your show "for the other set." Me? I'll be rooting for my Pats!

Hope you all enjoyed the ha-cha-cha. Poor Edward, she just won't let the man out of that bed! Once again, you (and I) have PaTrizia to thank for the detail and the flavor—if you will—of their experimentations. If I'd saved the "before," I would post it as an outtake just to show the transformation. Alas, I did not. Trust me, you'd like this version better. *wink*

It's been so much fun seeing all the new faces in the patch, and I hope you're enjoying the teasings! Thanks, as always, for your support but most of all, for sharing your own stories with me! Lots of great "Old Schools" out there, you lucky gals!
XXX ~BOH