Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 31 Allure
BPOV
The evening ended on a rosy but unconsummated glow.
I was not averse to the idea of mutually rubbing off some fingerprints but it didn't feel like it had to be right then and I'll be honest, jealousy was exhausting.
Which is not to say that I am not currently suffering from a level of sexual frustration that could possibly be detrimental to my long term health. I'd check my prognosis with Rose but I have zero desire to extract myself from Edward's bed, or his arms.
And I should probably do some serious fretting because words are all very well but living them is going to be much harder. But I can't do that either. Too warm, too sleepy, too comfortable, too fucking happy . . . .
...
I don't know what made me open my eyes but Edward is somewhere in front of them, rendered out of focus by my dangling running shoes in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee in the other.
I close them again.
"Leave the coffee." I groan. "Take the shoes with you if you must run on a Sunday morning. They'll probably enjoy it."
"They'd enjoy it more with you in them."
I open my eyes again, moving them up to his face, and he smiles his winningest smile.
"I'd enjoy it more with you in them."
"Suaveward." I grumble, hitching myself up to take the steaming mug.
"Come on." He cajoles. "You know you'll feel better if you run and no one's going to chase you down here. Well, Quil might."
"Quil?"
"William's dog. He likes to chase things."
"You're not making this sound attractive."
"Okay. You lie here. I'll go on my own. Don't worry about me."
"Okay." And I set my mug down and roll over, taking the covers with me.
Yes, he's attractive when he runs, but his erect nipples and the steaming coffee say its darn cold outside this bed and I am more than happy to take the hint . . . .
...
There's tugging at the bedclothes.
"What?" I ask blearily, opening my eyes again. My coffee's still steaming on the nightstand. "Did you run?"
"Nope." He sighs, curling his cold body around my nice warm one and making me shiver. "Can't run in anything over a foot so I'm coming back to bed."
"Confused."
"There's at least two foot of snow outside. That's not running, that's goose stepping at speed. Go back to sleep."
"K"
"K"
...
I'm floating on a softly undulating cloud of warmth, balmy air ghosting over my skin, a tuneful humming in my ears, my stomach muscles liquefying under the rhythmic massage of long gentle fingers.
"Mmm. Edward."
Hello husky Bella.
"Bella." He groans back, humping a little more insistently. "You feel so good . . . . love having you in my bed . . . . love . . . ."
The rhythmic fingers move apart, one massage going up, one massage heading down.
So good. And my rolling hips seem to agree. All so good. His humming breath on my ear, cheek and neck, his fingers reaching interesting places, his body moving insistently now with mine. The not so little thing that's come up between us . . . .
"Want." He moans into the sensitive skin behind my ear, rhythmic fingers pressing harder and more urgently. "Bella . . . . need . . . ."
"Edward, please . . . ." I murmur as his fingers make contact with the upper and lower pieces of Aro's getting laid lingerie. Please, please, please . . . .
Those fingers graze the underside of my breasts and the top of my pubic bone and then they're snatched away. What the . . . .
"Fuck. Sorry Bella." He hisses, turning me easily in his arms and crushing my face against his chest.
"Wha . . . ." I mumble into his skin.
"I didn't mean to molest you in my sleep." He apologies.
"S never stopped you before." I point out, struggling to loosen his embrace so I can look at him.
"I know, but . . . ." He trails off, his face going pink.
"But what?"
"I don't . . . ."
I try his own patient 'keep going' look on him and after a moment he continues.
"I can't help feeling that you might think it's disrespectful."
"I'm sorry. Who are you and what have you done with Edward Cullen?"
"See?" He groans, wriggling down the bed so our foreheads are touching.
"No. I'm afraid I don't."
"Bella . . . ."
"No, hang on a minute. Sleep humping and calling me Mabel would be disrespectful but you've never done that. Ever."
"I did do it once." He confesses. "Not to you. I, um . . . . shit . . . . I did it to a girl at a party once. I thought she was you. I called her Bella."
"I bet she was impressed."
"Not very." He observes unhappily.
"Listen, Edward. I kind of like the sleep humping and if you spoil it for me I'm going to be mad."
"But it's . . . ."
"Shush." I instruct him. "I don't find it disrespectful it's just you being you and I thought we were supposed to be us being us. Not us pretending to be somebody else's idea of how we should be."
He's quiet, thinking and I watch him, absorbed as always if I let myself be, by his ludicrous beauty. Aro would kill for me to have Edward's eye lashes.
"I don't want you to think I only want you for sex." He says after a moment, eyes searching mine.
"I appreciate that. But you've been so well behaved I'm starting to feel distinctly unsexy."
"Unsexy?" He chuckles, eyes suddenly glinting.
"Unsexy. Devoid of allure. Unwanted. Dried up. Frustrated."
"Damn." Edward's voice is velvet. "I can't bear the thought of you feeling like that."
"You can always do something to make me feel better about myself." I murmur, letting my lids droop to cover most of my eyes and biting my lip for good measure.
His nostrils flare and his eyes darken.
"Hmm." He considers. "As long as you know that I want you for very much more than the incredible way it feels to be inside you?"
And here comes my blush, right on cue.
"Fuck." He groans, rolling me underneath him. "You've no idea what the blush of yours does to me."
"Show me." I manage to ask.
His mouth curves into the crooked smile I love.
"Then let me make love to you Bella. Please."
His hands leave my upper arms to slide into my hair as he lowers himself to settle between my legs.
"Let me worship you with my body." He whispers as he bends his head to fasten his lips on my neck. "Let me show you what you mean to me . . . ."
He has such eloquent lips, hands, they say so much more than his words can and once again I find myself marvelling at how easy it is to let him take the lead now. To trust him with me, us . . . .
When every single inch of me is ablaze with the fire of his reverent touch he climbs up my body which easily, eagerly, accepts him between my thrumming thighs. I can't move, I'm completely in his thrall, but neither can my muscles be still . . . . twitching in place as he glides into me and groans my name into my mouth . . . . "Be-ll-a . . . ."
I want to kiss him, be joined with him in every way I can, but the sensation of us finally beginning to move together is too much and my head falls back onto the pillow, which means I have to settle for his hot moist breath at my throat as he holds himself slightly above me. Just high enough for his chest to constantly brush my straining nipples . . . .
There are no lover's games between us in this, just his steadily building rhythm and steadily deepening thrusts.
The inevitability of it is maddening . . . . exhilarating . . . .
His tongue flicks out to lap at my arched neck, his teeth briefly scraping the skin before he withdraws again, his nose bumping against my chin as his movements build.
Desperate I slide my hands upward over the bunching and releasing muscles of his back, twisting them in his hair to encourage his lips to mine and he returns my kiss passionately but the exquisite build up stutters and I release him with a frustrated growl.
"Fuck . . . . Bella . . . ."
Hot sharp breath. Slick slipping skin. Flexing muscles. Pleasure. Oh god the pleasure of it.
I'm just burning fuel in the shape of a woman . . . .
Waiting to . . . .
Reach the crescendo and . . . .
Explode!
"Jesus Christ!" Edward shouts as my inner muscles clamp down around him and my nails sink into his back. "Fuck!"
His body shudders with mine but I'm past the point of caring about the abruptly faltering rhythm as my rolling orgasm draws out his and I feel him swell and spurt inside me, once, twice, three times . . . .
We subside together, joined by more than the sheen of sweat that coats our skin and he finally covers my mouth with his, kissing me deep and hard and long . . . .
...
So warm, so comfortable . . . . so getting dark outside . . . . fuck!
"Edward?" I hiss, trying and failing to elbow him in the ribs as he's curled around me.
"Humph." Is his only response.
"Edward!" I stab him again. "We have to get up or I'm going to miss my flight."
"Miss it." He grumbles, tightening his hold on me.
"I'd love to but I can't, I have a meeting with the Board tomorrow afternoon to ratify the French acquisition."
"I curse your sense of responsibility." He growls, rolling away from me so he can sprawl dramatically across the bed and cover his eyes with his forearm.
"I'm sorry." And I am because it's quite a sight. "But my flight's at eight."
"Share a shower with me before we leave?" He asks, opening one emerald eye.
"If I must."
"Bella Swan, more enthusiasm for mutual cleanliness."
"Fine." I grouse as I fling back the covers and roll out of the bed. "Jesus Christ its cold!"
"You start the shower and I'll start a fire." He offers as he rolls out his side.
"Deal." I throw over my shoulder as I scurry away.
The water heats quickly and thanks to the under floor heating the bathroom is already warmer than the rest of the barn.
"Brrrr." I shiver as I slip under the steady spray and close my eyes in delight. The hot water immediately gets to work on my 'all day in bed' muscles.
"Mmm." Edward murmurs into my neck as he slips in behind me and wraps his arms round my waist. "I do like a nice wet Bella."
"No funny business." I admonish as he starts nibbling on my neck.
"I hate to break it you Bella but you're not going anywhere anytime soon." He drawls as his hands slide up to cup my breasts.
Immediately I want them to do more than cup . . . .
"What happened to not just wanting me for my body?" I ask as I push myself back to feel his growing erection.
"I don't." He groans as be begins to roll my nipples between his fingers and rub himself against me. "I'm just being pragmatic."
"Pragmatic?" I gasp as my knees threaten to buckle. "This should be good . . . ."
"Bella, you're not going anywhere, I can't even see the bed of the truck in the snow. Might as well . . . ." I reach behind me to run my hand up his length. "Use the time . . . ." I squeeze the tip. "Ungh . . . . productively . . . ."
And he spins me, pushing me up against the slick tiles as his tongue plunges into my mouth.
Hello my thighs . . . .
...
He wasn't kidding.
We are going nowhere in this snow.
Being the responsible type I leave voicemails for all and sundry and then force the guilt into a little imaginary box which I then mentally bury in a couple of feet of concrete.
Cut off from civilisation by snow and with only Edward Cullen for company.
Crap.
However will I cope?