Tomorrow is my birthday.
Ugh.
One of the things I love most about being around Charlie is that every year, when my birthday rolled around, he would ask me what I wanted to do to celebrate, and we would do exactly that. For my fifth birthday, I had an under the sea theme with a girl dressed as a mermaid floating around our pool during the party, for Christ's sakes. He also appreciates that now that I'm older, a casual dinner at my favourite Mexican place will do just fine.
Apparently, not everyone agrees with his methods... or my wishes.
Esme is flitting around like a hummingbird, calling every ten minutes to ask if I like cashews, how I feel about chicken as opposed to shrimp, and about a thousand other, often bizarre questions about my food preferences. Alice has gotten involved in the effort as well, and even Rosalie has joined in on the party-planning club, having seemed to develop something of a girl crush on on my best friend. I suspect it's because Alice constantly lavishes her with compliments about her long, golden hair and what she describes as 'flawless bone structure.'
I'm forbidden from being involved, which is convenient because I have absolutely no interest in it whatsoever.
Edward certainly doesn't seem to mind.
"I like having you to myself," he murmurs against the skin of my shoulder, his arms around my waist and his chest pressed to my back. I thrust backwards sharply, using my ass as a weapon to force him away before i forget my task entirely.
"You wanted lunch, Mister. Stop distracting me!"
He chuckles lowly as he steps back up to my back, and I can't help but shudder, just a tiny bit, when his breath hits my skin.
"I changed my mind," he breathes.
I pivot within the confines of his arms and poke him acusingly in the chest.
"Listen here, buddy. I'm getting real sick of you and your - "
My burgeoning rant is cut off by his mouth against mine. Within seconds, it is forgotten entirely and I'm being lifted onto the kitchen island, lying back across it as Edward vaults himself up after me, pressing his body down on mine. The cold granite contrasts deliciously with his warm skin, and his few days of stubble scratching against my chin and throat only heightens my sensitivity.
That is, until my back muscles start aching from the rock hard surface I'm pressed against. I wrap my leg firmly around Edward's thigh and begin to flip us over, until -
"OW! What the fuck, Bella?"
Edward is on the floor.
"Oh my god! Are you ok?"
I jump off the counter and crouch down beside him, frantically running my hands over him as I check for injuries. He's scowling at me as he rubs at the back of his head.
"I'm fine," he grumbles.
And then I'm laughing. Not delicate, girlish giggles, but a loud snort follwed by full-blown, embarrassing guffaws as I abruptly realise the ridiculousness of this situation.
"Shut up," he growls, pulling me against him and wincing as my body weight presses on his already sore form. This only makes me laugh harder.
"Stop laughing!"
"I'm sorry," I gasp through even more laughter. "Really, I am." I run my fingers softly through his hair, rubbing gently on the bump I can already feel is emerging.
"If you didn't want to kiss me anymore, you could have just said so."
He sounds grumpy, but when I look at his face, he's fighting off a smile, so I kiss him until he gives in and is chuckling himself. We kiss some more as I softly massage his head.
"I always want to kiss you," I murmur against his mouth. He pushes his lips hard against mine, then pulls back, pressing our foreheads together.
"Good. And, if you ever change your mind, please don't throw me from a significant height onto a tiled floor."
Kiss.
"I'll try to remember that."
Kiss.
"Good."
One last long, closed mouth kiss and I pull away, stand up and then offer him a hand to help him off the floor.
"And regardless," I add smugly, "it's my birthday, so you can't get me in trouble."
He rolls his eyes and pulls me into his side.
"It's not your birthday yet, baby."
"Irrelevant."
He laughs, smacks a kiss to my temple, and leads us into the living room, presumably in search of a more comfortable locale for a make out session. A location he quickly finds in the form of the living room couch.
I'm dropped on the couch and his body is pressing over mine in the ways that make me want to wrap myself around him like a curling vine, attaching at every conceivable point. Soon, my skirt is around my waist, as per usual, both of our shirts are on the floor and Edward's hands are stroking up over my stomach as he tries to subtly go for the boob grope. I don't know why he bothers pretending that it's not where he's heading, but I indulge him, arching my body into his hands to show him that I want it too.
I'm rewarded with a quiet groan that makes all of his sillyness worthwhile.
The way his long fingers press gently into my skin, almost completely covering the expanse of my chest, makes me moan a little bit, too.
His lips leave mine, trailing over my jaw, pausing at my throat as his tongue peeks out to lave at the skin there. I'm covered in goosebumps despite the uncanny warmth September in Miami brings, and mewling as I pull at his shoulders, urging him closer and closer but never close enough.
He drifts further south, nipping at my collar bone, gently scraping his teeth across the curve of my breast, and then he sucks my nipple into his mouth, pulling on it gently. He's focused, humming against my skin as he makes his steady descent. Fingers, then lips on ribs, then I'm flinching as he crosses the ticklish expanse of my stomach and then he's at my hip bone, kissing it as he slides his fingers into my underwear and skirt, pulling them down together in one motion.
Instinctively, I tense as his lips relocate to the inside of my thighs, unable to completely push away the apprehension regardless of the depth of my trust in him. He places one hand low on my stomach between my hip bones, and I reach for it, twining our fingers together as he kisses his way slowly to exactly where he knows he's wanted.
I'm writhing before he even makes contact, the very feel of his breath against me enough to make my brain shut down in the loveliest way. When his soft lips hit my wet skin, I'm lost and found as every nerve ending in my body seems to relocate to each point where his skin meets mine.
He licks me once, bottom to top, as if surveying the landscape and the loud sigh that leaves me seems a perfect counterpoint to his action. His free hand moves to meet his mouth, spreading me apart to give him more access as he covers me in kisses, then licks, then he's sucking and my eyes won't ever unroll from their place in my head if he keeps doing that.
His fingers move, pressing inside and I'm clutching at his other hand, begging for I-don't-even-know-what but he delivers it in spades and I'm floating and climbing and it's all too much but if he ever stops I'll murder him. My legs shake as they close in around his head, my free hand locked in my hair and my face pressed into my arm as I hold back a scream, or maybe a sob.
When he hits the place, we both know it. I cry out, wanton and whorish and completely uncaring, and he zeroes in on it, all tongue and lips and a little bit of teeth as his fingers curve up from the inside, pressing on the spot from every angle. He stays there, pushing and sucking and just enough bite for me to lose it entirely.
It can't be over, not yet.
"No, no, no - yesssssssssssssssss!"
The shudder starts somewhere in my stomach, spreading to my legs that quiver around his head, up through my arms and rolling down my spine over and over again. My upper body lurches forward as the shudder intensifies, my very being pulling me towards him as he rides me through it, maintaining his attention even as I thrash and pull at him and cry out a choked, garbled version of his name.
Eventually, my limbs relax, and fall limp, the entire remainder of my energy going into the lazy smile that now adorns my face. He pulls himself away from my and if I could, I'd use my thighs to trap him there forever, but for the life of me, I can't seem to make them move.
"Hey."
I can't even bring myself to be bothered by the smug smile on his face.
"Shut up," I murmur, the words coming out slightly slurred by the heavy perfection still lingering in my muscles. He slowly presses his body over mine, his warmth only increasing my numbing euphoria, and kisses me gently - jaw, cheeks, lips. I force up my arms up to wrap around him, and I'm barely lucid.
"So I guess I was hungry after all," he muses.
I manage to conjure up a grimace because his words deserve one.
"You... are disgusting."
"You love me."
"If you keep doing that, I'll love you forever," I mutter into the skin where his neck meets his shoulder.
He laughs, all throaty and gorgeous and vibrating over me, and I pull him closer. I can feel his boner poking into my leg, but it's going to have to wait, because I'm paralyzed for the moment.
Once the haze ascends, I realize that I'm naked in the living room and groggily pull myself into a seating position so I can, at the very least, get some underwear on. Edward pouts when I sloppily yank my panties back into place, and I roll my eyes playfully at him before plopping myself down in his lap.
"Don't look at me like that. It's my birthday - I can wear underwear if I want to."
He glares at me.
"It's not your birthday yet, so lose 'em." He starts toying with the waistband, but I slap his hand away.
"Never."
"What if I want to give you another birthday present?" he asks innocently, his hands creeping back to the elastic. For a minute, I'm lost to the memories and the desire to relive them as soon as humanly possible, but my rational side prevails and I smack his hands away again.
"Charlie will be home in less than an hour, and as much as I enjoy the view of your face between my legs, I'm not sure he would agree."
He groans deeply.
"Why do you have to go saying something all sexy, and then bring your dad into it? It's just cruel."
I laugh at the boy I love and his theatrics.
"Just imagine how unsexy it'd be if it actually happened though, rather than me just mentioning it as a hypothetical."
"Alright, alright!" he cries, hands raised defensively. "I get it, clothes stay on. Now please, for the love of God, stop talking about Charlie and our sex life as if the topics even remotely go together."
"Ok," I sigh, still laughing a little bit. I slide my fingers into his hair, massaging gently and his eyes drift close, a deep, grumbly moan leaving his lips.
"If you wanted to talk about, say, Alice... that would be different."
I tug sharply on his hair, making his eyes snap open.
"You're gross!"
"Have I told you lately how pretty you are? And how much I love you?"
As much as I see through his blatant attempts to calm my ire, I can't help but smile, just a little bit, and let him kiss me before he settles back down against me and wiggles his head, a silent instruction for me to pick back up with the head massage.