Welcome to PAD's interrogation room.
Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Bureau of Investigation.
I just want to keep Edward under bright lights and make him sweat . . . among other things.
Covert Cullen 19
I have Bella exactly where I want her, which is fucking livid right now. Good! She actually surprised the shit out of me when she smacked me with her kitchen mitt—that silicone sucker seriously hurt, and to rub more salt into my wounds, it appeared as though she was exhibiting great joy while doing so. If her looks were any indication, I know I should fear her wrath, but damn, if her wenchy little ass isn't hot when she's fired up at me. Now, if I can only get her fired up for me, I'm sure I'll get what I want.
If our friends and Emmett weren't already arriving, I wouldn't hesitate to just do her here, right on the kitchen floor . . . or on top of the sink . . . or under the counter . . . or maybe even against the fridge. When I played with her nipple earlier, I thought I'd lose all my control, but as a man on a mission, I knew I couldn't give in. After all, what would that say about mankind in general? For now, I'm taking one for the team and just have to back down, which is frustrating because I love watching her as much as I love touching her and never realized what she did to me. Yeah, I've found myself jacking off after just observing or being close to Bella, but I thought that was only because I lived with a girl.
When she's in the kitchen, gliding seamlessly from one task to the next, knowing exactly what to do, there are no words. I never realized how sexy she is. Watching a woman do stuff when she completely has her shit together is so hot.
Unfortunately, I've only had my mom, grandmothers, Jasper's Mom, and Renée, to watch, and it would just be wrong to think of anything that they do as being sexy. Although, I just might understand now how housework and cleaning get my dad and Charlie worked up so much. I definitely see the appeal and could absolutely set Bella's motion to music, hearing fine-tuned instruments playing while she steps in perfect time with staged choreography, wishing I was wrapped around her back with her ass to my front, rocking, bending, pulling, and pushing.
Before she slapped me and took off to answer the door, I was enjoying her moves. It was as if I was watching the inner workings of a see-through clock ebb and flow, back and forth, in and out as she darted all over the kitchen. Likewise, she fascinated me when she dipped that lucky spoon into the pot she was stirring and tasted what was on it. I found myself saying, "Come on, Bella, pucker and purse those pretty lips. Yes! Blow first to cool. Then stick out your tongue just to take a little taste. I bet your tomato sauce is tart and tangy, sweetheart, like something else I can give you".
Ugh, what I can give her!
She's driving me crazy!
That's it! Fuck my injury! Forget one for the team! I'm horny, and I want my woman! I can't believe it's taken me this long to recognize my feelings for her. Hell, even our parents knew! I can't believe I've wasted all this time not knowing I could have been with her. I want to kick my own ass. I can be such a clueless fucknut sometimes.
Bella challenged me to behave and should know by now it's damned near impossible for me to be good once I've made up my mind to do something contrary, and right now, that "something" involves me getting her to cave in. I can't be obvious about it either; she'll see right through me, and my plan will backfire—not to mention she'll be so pissed I've chosen to bait her in front of company, I'll be lucky if I so much as get a peck goodnight from her. It's time to rethink how I need to handle things. This definitely has to be a covert operation. It's time to map out my strategy and psyche myself up.
Cue music. Enter the flute from the theme song of Mission Impossible . . . dun dun duh duh dun dun duh duh . . . enter the flute again . . . and the brass . . . and I'm ready.
I turn and head for the living room and grab my Guinness off the kitchen counter before moseying over to the couch, facing away from the front door. After I plop myself down on the cushion, I aim the remote and turn on the television, keeping it low enough so I can make out some of what Bella and Jazz are "BS-ing" about in the hall. I catch Jazz saying hello and remarking on how it smells different in here, like a combination kitchen smoke and carpet cleaner. Asshole, like I need Bella being reminded more about my fuck-up. I also hear Bella give him a warning not to physically spar with me in addition to the rundown on my condition, which catches him off guard.
While he's still out there, I hear him as he gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Lucky bastard just got here and already he's getting more than I am. But I can't concern myself with dwelling on that. I need to capitalize on my new discovery and make myself appear to be every bit the invalid I know is in me. The more pitiful I appear, the more convincing I'll be.
Before Jazz rounds the corner, I hoist my feet onto the coffee table and get ready to wince in pain. Those acting lessons mom made me take when I landed the lead in my fifth grade play better pay off.
Still standing, he says, "Hey, man, how goes it? You don't look that beat up to me. I expected to see you looking like a Looney Tunes character all bandaged up and shit . . ."
He doesn't give me a chance to respond before he starts laying into me.
"Seriously though, why the hell didn't you call me when this happened, numb-nuts? You know that's messed up. If you weren't already fucked-up, I'd do it for you, dickhead. I'm your best friend, dammit! I thought you'd do me better than that." He finishes his wave of verbal ranting by kicking me in the foot.
Ow! His last comment has my warped brain thinking of a snide comeback, but for once, I leave it alone, not wanting to taunt the tiger anymore. If I do, he might never shut up.
Bella offered to call Jazz when she was at the hospital after I came to, but I figured he would have been be all hungover and bitchy yesterday, having gone out Friday night, so I told her I'd handle telling him myself later, which I conveniently forgot.
It wasn't a big enough deal to drag his probably passed-out ass out of bed and over to the hospital. If I had told him, he would have most likely pissed and whined about feeling shitty from waking up so early. Plus, call me selfish, but maybe I just wanted to spend some more drama-free alone time with Bella before the balloon popped and shit got awkward between the three of us.
Jazz goes over to the fridge, still mumbling some derogatory crap about me, and pulls open the door, seeing the cheap brews, aka light Coors and Buds, we keep in there for regular company like Emmett, and cocks an eyebrow at me, showing his disgust and disappointment.
"Dude! What's with the empty shelves?"
"Funny, I can see plenty of beer from where I'm sitting. Maybe you ought to come over here and kneel at my feet so you see them, too, and on your way over, be a sport and grab the dog leash the neighbors left by the door. I'll gladly put it around your neck and keep you in your place. I think you need to heel and chill out."
"Fuck you, Cullen! Nice to know you still love me", he offers, sarcastic but playful.
I just roll my eyes and shake my head at his normal, out-of-control idiocy, or maybe it's just weed impairment. You'd think after all the time he spends here, he'd put things together and figure out where stuff is and understand that he needs to calm the fuck down! He probably didn't take his ADD meds today either. Hopefully, the alcohol will help mellow him out.
"Hey, brain dead, the good ones are in my room. While you're in there, grab me another Guinness, too. I'm about done with this one." He looks up with an "Oh-yeah-I forgot-about-the-fridge-in-your-room" revelation but still hasn't moved to do anything about it. I think his impatience is now rubbing off on me.
"Aye, aye, ass-wipe, will do, but I just downed a twenty-four ounce coffee to wake up with before I came here. Let me drain the python first."
Bella just snickers.
Hah! He wishes. Personally, I'm pleased with my boa, but I'd rather have Bella being the one doing the constricting.
Instead of leaving the kitchen right away, Jazz moves over to the food and leans over her.
"What are you laughing about, B? Mmm, that shit smells awesome, girl . . ."
He sticks his chin over her shoulder while she's stirring her spinach artichoke concoction—Ha! There's that word again, which makes me laugh every time—no doubt absorbing the aroma of her chicken and ribs still in the oven.
"You smell pretty damned good, too." He blatantly takes a strong whiff of her hair by sticking his nose right in it.
What the fuck?
He'd better cut that shit out now! From here on in, she's off limits. I'm the only one who's going to be sticking my nose into Bella's hair, sucking up to, or make that sucking on, her.
"Grrra-hem!"I clear my throat loudly, signaling my impatience among other things.
Bella looks up from putting stuff on top of her platters and gives me the stink eye—partly for my overly possessive display but mostly for my request for a second beer so close to my last—as Jazz walks down the hall.
I need to pour it on, tugging more of her sympathy, so I pick up my leg and scrunch every muscle in my face.
Without hesitation, she stops what she's doing and washes her hands quickly while offering, "Are you okay, Edward? Do you need any ice? Maybe you should go lie down. You're almost due for pain meds. Do you want them a little early?"
I just want to go over to her and smooth out the tiny crinkles around her eyes as she frantically struggles to pull out an icepack from the freezer. Then I want to hold her face and rub out the bothered creases in her forehead with my thumb before kissing her worried bottom lip, the one she's chewing on right now, as well as when I always concern her.
Yep, mom got her money's worth with my performance; my girl is buying my act. Although I love any and all attention I can get, Bella behaving like my mother is so not cool. Hanging around the one and only Esme Cullen for the last day and a half has corrupted her, and that shit needs to stop. I need my normal, non-keyed up, level-headed, breathing-in-between-sentences-Bella back.
"Stop, Bella; go back and cook. I wouldn't want you to ruin the food because honestly, there's no need; I'm good, and I'll make do. I don't want to miss any action." My comment stops her from bringing over the ice pack she's finally freed. I say it with my signature pouty expression in place on my face, the one that gets me my way nearly every damned time from nearly every woman I encounter. Yeah, I can be a shit sometimes.
"Are you sure? You can take a nap. I'll wake you up when the food's ready."
God, I love her big, beautiful, pleading brown eyes.
"I'll tough it out. I really want to meet your friends, and besides, you're liable to let me sleep through everything, missing everyone entirely."
She seems surprised that I call her out on her plan. Do I know my devious girl?
"Well . . . just don't overdo it," she lets out with a huff.
Drawing out the affirmative, I give, "Yeees, Nurse Bella."
She shakes her head slightly, but her smile tells me she approves of my observation.
Frankly, I do too, Nurse Bella. Hmm. Valentine's Day is coming up. I wonder if I can talk her into wearing a naughty health care worker's costume if I buy one. Knowing her, she'll probably take offense and tie me up then gag me with it. Of course, that could have its perks, too. Maybe I should buy her a dominatrix ensemble.
Bella, constricted in a tight, white, zippered uniform, versus my girl decked in taut black vinyl with a whip and toys, what's a guy to decide?"
"Ow!" Motherfucker! Evidently, he likes both ideas. The pain in my dick is for real. I'm not pretending. No one can convince me that a catheter's aftermath won't hurt, especially when dealing with a creeping erection. The incompetent person that stuffed that damn tube up my chimney must have scraped my walls. That's not exactly the type of pipe cleaning I'm into, even with Bella as a domme. I just rub at my dick, silently soothing it, telling him things will be all right, and he'll be getting some soon.
Looking over to me from the stove, she offers, "Edward, please just take it easy."
"It's okay. I just moved a part of me I really shouldn't have encouraged to move." There's no lie there. Bella gives me her raised eyebrow, which usually means sees through my bullshit, but she continues doing what she's doing anyway setting out shrimp and some other stuff.
After I settle back, willing my dick to behave, I absorb the great view I have of Bella's skinny-jean-covered ass as she bends over in front of the oven, flipping ribs and checking chicken. Unfortunately though, her checking chicken has me thinking about choking mine.
Since I first discovered masturbation, I haven't ever gone this long without blowing a load. I'm going to spout like a humpback whale when I do. Even while I lay in my hospital bed for a week with bandaged hands covered in poison ivy, I still managed to rub out a few. There were two young, hot nursing interns there at the time, Heidi and Gia, who appealed to my thirteen-year-old-boy fantasy bank. I think Jazz shared the same thoughts since he went through twice as many linen changes as I did. Horny prick. Right now I don't have time to think about him. I need to get my own act straight; otherwise, I won't be able to keep a level head and execute my plan if I'm continually maintaining this problem in my pants. I snort, thinking about how my head right now isn't that level.
I hear the lock to the bathroom door unclick, indicating Jazz must be done using it.
Finally, a distraction! Jazz exits the bathroom then opens the door to my room. I lean back on the couch, smiling and watching him intently, thinking this ought to be good as he enters through my doorway, most likely looking around, trying to figure out what happened. He backs out of my room and stands in the hallway for a few moments appearing confused—which isn't all that hard for him—before turning the doorknob and entering Bella's room. Only staying in there a few moments upon looking around, he closes her door, appearing completely disgusted as he's cussing and muttering then goes back into my room and comes out with a Guinness for me and two Sam Adams for himself.
"Greedy much?" I reply wickedly because I'm an ass, and he is Jazz.
"Shut up you dick licker. If I wasn't pissed off at you before, I certainly am now. Where the hell is everything? We spent months collecting all those empties to turn them into furniture and shit, and you just took it upon yourself to get rid of them? Some fucking friend you are! What gave you the right to throw them away without telling me?"
Bella just giggles at Jazz's wording and continues taking the fruits and vegetables I helped cut up earlier out of the refrigerator. Hearing Jazz and I go at it like this is nothing new for her.
Jazz's so pissed, he's practically spitting. I rarely see him this worked up and actually feel kind of guilty as well as bad. I completely understand how he feels. Many hangovers and some seriously wild times went in to accruing all those empties. Thank God, Bella was gone for most of them, as she probably wouldn't have anything to do with me now if she were here then. They were not my proudest moments, but at least I never woke up with a giant cock drawn on my face in black Sharpie marker from a girl whose name I forgot after spending the night with her. That honor goes to Jazz alone. The biggest mistake the dumb bastard made was passing out after telling the girl he couldn't remember who she was. That's why I use pet nicknames. Correction: used pet nicknames. Bella, the saint she is, came home about noon the next day and worked her Heloise Hint magic, managing to get his embarrassment removed, well at least the physical signs of it. Jazz still hasn't lived down its emotional toll from the ribbing everyone's given him. All I can say is it's a good thing the girl wasn't a tattoo artist.
I jar myself from my digression and offer up the explanation. "Spider." I give him that one word. Just saying it starts an intense emotional torrent, triggering a cold sweat. Just saying it makes Jasper back down when he sees my anxiety building while I chug the beer he's just given me.
"Dude." He says the one word I take as an apology.
"Yeah, I know." I say it abruptly wanting him to drop the discussion.
"That sucks," He offers sympathetically. He's not too fond of the eight-legged things either.
"Yup." I definitely don't want to talk about this any further and be stuck here looking at Jazz's pitiful expression while I'm thinking about that beady-eyed creature starting all of this, so I struggle getting up, partly because I'm in pain but mostly to maintain my drama before I head off to the bathroom, finally getting the urge to pee.
Bella looks toward me as I start my walk.
"Do you want some help?" She offers her assistance sweetly.
I turn so only she can see me and give her a wink, signaling that we're on stage in front of an audience.
"Are you asking to hold it for me? Because if you are, you know I'd never turn down a helping hand."
"Bite me, Edward!" She spits back venomously.
Good one! Very convincing, babe.
"Just tell me where and when, and I'll happily oblige." I smirk through my rebuttal.
"You wish." She admonishes me haughtily as she shoves around her cookware.
Nice touch.
However, I think her action has more to do with sexual frustration than it does with her actually being pissed at me. At least I hope it does.
"Always!" I reply as I've almost made it to the bathroom. That comeback used to mean I wanted the last word, but now it's taking on an entirely different meaning, one I'm hoping I'm ready to deal with.
I make it to the bathroom and go about my business, pulling out the shirttails of my red flannel before unzipping the fly to my favorite acid-eaten jeans. I begin letting out my stream. Ahhhhh! Taking a piss never felt this good. I almost wish I had enough in me to do it again. I can only describe it as the feeling I get when I let loose in a swimming pool, ocean, or pond, and all that warm liquid surrounds me like a favorite blanket. It's . . . comforting.
Now that that's out of my system, I flush the toilet and shake off what remains, contemplating my next that and figure I had better do something about it while I'm still here, so I assume my position and face the john, slightly straddling it, careful to take proper aim while I let my Nurse Bella fantasy consume my thoughts. I figure Domme Bella will just have wait for another day when I'm feeling a little more up to it.
Mmm. I grab my dick and unhurriedly begin stroking myself from base to tip, thinking about how things would probably unfold:
Bella saunters over to me then carefully and methodically takes the zipper of her uniform and pulls it down a few inches, exposing just enough cleavage to make my mouth water while her delicious tits strain to pop out of their confines. Leaning over she says, "Edward, you don't look well. You really ought to lie down so I can take your temperature."
"Oh, Ms. Bella, I'm fine. You, on the other hand, look so hot. I mean feverish. I think it would be wise for me to check you out with my oral thermometer. You had better open wide, you sick girl."
And she does, dropping to her knees at my feet onto her white see-through stockings held up by the garter belt she has wrapped snugly around her waist under her tight outfit.
Upon removing her white, starched, linen nurse's cap, her tucked up hair spills from it and rolls downward in slow motion, revealing those glorious waves of bouncy brunette curls. I imagine grabbing on to those thick, silken strands . . . pulling her closer . . . encouraging those red Revlon lips . . . kissing the base of my massive trunk as her whole mouth envelops me . . . sucking . . . squeezing . . . twisting . . .surrounding . . .
But I need more. I reach under the sink vanity with my left hand, not wanting to lose the contact of my right. Yes! This ought to work. I tear open the plastic with my teeth, removing the contents, then discard the bag into the nearby wastebasket and place the brand new bright yellow mop head over my groin while I continue to stroke.
That's it baby. Take all I have to give you.
Ungh! Ungh! Ungh! Harder. Harder. Ungh! That's it! Ungh! Yes! Ungh! Oh, Bella! Ungh!
And I'm gone, feeling almost sunblind as the white light of my orgasm takes hold. Yes! Elvis has left the building.
Uh oh! Getting light-headed here, I'm losing my balance.
Shit! I hope that doesn't mean I'm going to be chasing after The King; I'm a little too young to die.
Fuck, can't stand up . . . falling . . .
THU-DUMP!
I briefly stun myself yet manage to snap to, now with more pain from the new bump to my head. Never one to ignore divine intervention, I thank God that the toilet tank had a carpeted cover as I absorb the sight of Bella and Jazz filing hurriedly into the bathroom, wondering what I've gotten myself into now. I watch them as they take in the embarrassing scene of me, fortunately, sprawled on the thick pile bath mat in between the tub and toilet instead of the hard, tiled floor on the other side of the sink, but unfortunately, they see me with my jeans and boxers wrapped around my ankles.
Fuck! This isn't exactly how I envisioned Bella checking out my manhood for the first time since we were toddlers. Right now, having run aground, I don't exactly have much wind in my main sail.
Wickedly blushing in realization of my very same thoughts, I witness Bella's turmoil of not knowing how she should handle this situation. Not knowing what else to do, she scans my deflating parts and asks, "Edward, are you all right? What happened?"
"I, uh, guess I kind of fell." It's the only thing I can offer, not really wanting to reveal my stupidity on this one.
I turn my head to Jazz who has that all-knowing look and asinine grin on his face, the one telling me I'm the one who's the ass, the idiot for jerking off while recuperating in my condition.
And that was my problem.
My boys didn't want to remain cooped-up while I was recuperating. It was that and the fact that being around Bella was making it difficult for me to think straight.
I have to have my wits and cool about me, at least enough to tease her so I can get my way. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I still plan on messing with her this afternoon especially with our company present.
"Here, let me help," the nightingale speaks.
Bella kneels next to me with certain tenderness. It's the kind that shows she's a girlfriend helping her boyfriend and not the kind from a roommate demonstrating concern over the other asshole roommate's inability to keep his shit together. It's definitely different from our earlier staged bickering.
As she gathers my pants, inching them up my legs, she stops when she reaches my groin and turns away.
Christ! I don't want her looking away. She's beautiful, and I find myself captivated by the spell I'm under, the spell pulling me into her blackened orbs, the one compelling me to drive through her tunnels, needing to bask in her light on the other side.
Wow! That was some sappy shit. I guess I hit my forehead harder than I thought.
Bella looks at me with concern and yearning. She's no longer the unshakeable, indomitable, gibing girl Jazz and I grew up with. In this moment, she's flustered, shaking, and clearly affected. This is so not her normal behavior.
And Jazz, despite him having smoked a bowl before he drove over here, knows it. He looks over to Bella, seeing her compassion-filled eyes and then turns to me with a scrunched, questioning expression.
Dude? He gives me silently.
Damn, three "Dudes" and it hasn't even been a half hour since he got here.
I just have to close my eyes to regroup my thoughts, but when I reopen them, he's just shaking his head, partly in defeat but mostly in warning, silently congratulating me that I'm the luckiest bastard who ever lived—having claimed Bella—but reminding me that I better not fuck this up.
Swallowing thickly over my illumination of what he's just pieced together—and the fact that he's not going to kick my ass for winning the girl, at least not today—I mouth a discreet thank you to him before turning my attention back to my puzzled-looking prize.
"Um, you've . . . you've got spunk funk on your junk." She whispers her innocent observation.
Jazz and I exchange a look of questioning disbelief over Bella's choice of words and burst out laughing at her unintentionally hilarious reply definitely contributing toward lightening our mood. Of all the things she could have said, I never imagined that would be one of them.
Curious, I retort, "Spunk funk on my junk? . . . Is that like . . . jizz drizz on my frizz? . . . Or sploo goo on my shoe?" I smile wickedly, giving her my Dr. Seuss rhyming rant while Jazz just holds his stomach, buckling over in laughter.
"Ew. Let's just drop this discussion." She readies to get herself up, clearly grossed out by my words.
"How about nutter butter from my putter? . . . Flirt blurt from my squirt? . . . Oh, I know. Ring-a-ding string from my bada bing?"
She's beyond disgusted with me.
But I just have to continue. "Sluice juice from my choked goose? . . . Dream cream from my stream? Semen freemen seeking a hymen?"
That last one made even me cringe. In addition to it not rhyming, it conjured a visual I'm glad only Riley actually shared with her. He was a good guy to others and a great friend to me but was the absolute best toward Bella. Even though I now possess somewhat mixed feelings about me not being her first, I'd never want to give her that kind of initial pain. She's too precious for me to have put her through that, especially not knowing how our encounter would have played out. In retrospect, I would have hated the idea of using her like that then moving on to some other chick, just tossing Bella and her feelings aside like foul laundry. I'm so grateful we never shared that type of encounter then when we obviously weren't ready to deal with it only to discover now that, hopefully, our distance was meant to be.
"That's it!" Bella shouts with unmistakable piss-off-ed-ness in her voice solely directed at me. "Clearly you're well enough to swim in your own one-liners and need no help!" she yells as she stands up.
"How about a hand?" I sheepishly extend mine to her, hoping she'll help me up.
"For those jokes, uh-uh. You're not getting any applause from me . . . or help."
At least some humor has returned to her. I was starting to get a little worried there.
She moves away but walks over to the linen closet and grabs a washcloth, running it under warm water before tossing it at me.
"Thanks." I give her the remark hesitantly as I pick up the soaking wet fabric, landing on my crotch.
"Mmhmm," she utters, tepidly, as I note her lack of a "You're welcome."
I clean myself off, placing the soggy remnants of my ordeal in the hamper, but note that I feel as if I'm forgetting something.
Jazz is the one who extends a hand, finally pulling me up, wiping what remained from my palm on his jeans. I give him the look, the look that says, "I understand; no explanation is necessary".
Once I'm vertical, I quickly adjust my wet parts before tucking them in and zipping up.
I stagger a bit before the blood starts moving back toward the places it previously retreated. Jazz lets go when I can somewhat stand without swaying, but I lean forward nonetheless, needing contact, and drag Bella in for a kiss under her protest, not caring about falling down again or what Jazz thinks. What difference does it make? We're out now.
"Thank you," I tell her warmly as I pull away and can tell she's worried but still a bit irritated even though she kisses me back.
"Edward!" She screams at me when she finally realizes I chose to "PDA" (Publically Display Affection) in front our best friend, not figuring out yet that Jazz knows.
"It's okay, Bella. Good luck with this one," he says, tipping his head toward me. "You're gonna need it," he offers acerbically, shaking his head with an errant grin plastered while he exits the bathroom. "This is kind of weird, and I think I need my beer." He says it almost rhythmically.
Hell, I know I undoubtedly need some of mine. Although Jazz is taking this better than I expected, I'm still a little worried. Something's off about him. He's much too quiet. When he gets like this, he's usually up to no good.
Chimes ring out, signaling someone else has arrived. Following, there is a raucous rap on the door and boisterous muffled yelling, meaning it can only be coming from one person. Great!
"I can't wait to see what Emmett has to say about this." Jazz gloats, eager to see how all this will unfold.
Turning to Bella as we enter the hallway, I mumble, "Shit! I certainly can."
"I double your sentiment. I'm so not looking forward to this . . ." Bella just sighs and rubs at her temples. "And for the record, Romeo, you're going to have to come up with a much better plan to derail me if you expect to push your train through the Bella Depot."
"Ouch!" She pinched my ass! Her nails are like a dagger to my bare skin, nipping me in my bud, bum, butt, or a gazillion other metaphors I'm sure she can come up with, reminding me to be on my best behavior this afternoon. It also serves as a subtle reminder that I should probably change out of my acid-eaten jeans with the holes revealing much more than what Bella would care to have revealed with her female visitors present. I guess it's also her not so covert way of saying that my private parts should be covered up and not made so public in front of her company.
"I'm forewarning you."
I turn and look back at the no-nonsense sternness in her eyes, the intensity which could make a stranger cringe on a darkened street corner. Damn, she really has been hanging around my mom too much this weekend, and I'm quite certain Bella's comment wasn't directed at my jeans.
Just then my illumination strikes. "I'm going to grab a quick shower, and I think I should probably change." She's going to see that the last part of my sentence will be taking on a completely different meaning.
Of course, my words earn me winning approval and a kiss on the cheek from Bella before she heads off to answer the door but not before ribbing me a bit more.
"I think that's wise. You may also want to do something about the woman still left in the bathroom . . ."
I give Bella a bewildering look, not knowing what she's referring to.
"I saw your blonde girlfriend hiding behind the toilet. You might want to make sure you clean her up a bit and dry her off before putting her back in her place under the sink where she belongs. Just so you know, I won't tolerate dirty girls around here."
Busted!
As I detour into my bedroom to search for the perfect clothing, I realize that Bella may have gotten the final word on this round, but by the end of the night, she'll be down for the count after eating her words.
A/N:
How do you think the rest of the afternoon will play out?
What does Edward have up his pant leg now?
Do you think Bella is ready for him?
What will their guests think?
Please leave your thoughts.
Thank you, Chayasara, for fixing me as you do. My mistakes, however, are mine.
Thank you, Gothic Temptress, for painstakingly prereading all of my other chapters—after the fact. I'm still making corrections on them and will repost all at once.
Thank you, Monica Solis, for my adorable banner and for making me smile whenever I see it.
This chapter is a belated birthday tribute dedicated to my dear friend, Ohgeefanstasy. Please check out her stories, and show her some love.
Also Bornonhalloween has completed "Remastering Marcus". Please find the link on her FF profile.
Also, stop in and check out my friend, Gabby1017. She's turned "Under My Nose" into a screenplay. Please wish her luck.
Also, please check out my other stories I'm presently working on updating:
Skater Boy and Boarder Girl
Unhinged
Never Judge By The Cover
Watching You
Rude Awakenings
I began this chapter in an alternate point of view from the spider's mindset. I found that shift in POV much more challenging for this chapter, given the entrances of all the new characters I had planned. If you'd like to see an outtake from the spider's viewpoint somewhere down the road, please let me know, and I'll revisit that idea again. Other than that, I don't really have a decent excuse for why this took so long to post other than life has just caught up with me in many ways and hasn't exactly been treating me fairly. I do, however, realize that I've sorely missed this story and truly need it in my life once more, so I will try to post Bella's chapter as soon as humanly possible.
If you are still with me and care to leave a smile, a question mark, an exclamation point, your words, rants, or a kick to my ass, please feel free to do so. I have no idea who or how many of you are still following these two, but it would be nice to know you are still here with me or with them.
Also, I don't know if it would help motivate me, but let me know if you want me to create a Facebook group for my this story or my others where you can go to lend me your thoughts or blast me for not updating quickly enough. I love you all for taking the time to support me here.
Thank you for reading.
PAD
:0)