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Word Prompts: Artifact, artificial, artisan

Edward makes a mean sandwich.

Balancing a tray on my lap, I snuggle back against his pillows, which we've propped up so we can watch movies and pig out on midnight snacks. In bed. In Edward's oversized, awesome, bed.

"I'll never have generic turkey again," I moan, chewing in ecstasy.

"I'm telling you. Boar's Head, baby." He winks at me, all goofy because he's only doing it because I said specifically that I like it.

"Mm," I hum, shaking my head. It's not just the turkey, but the spiffy mustard, organic spring greens and artisan bread. And the cheese. I can't even with the cheese. I suppose he's got fancy tastes from his years of living in Europe or something. "Why'm I not surprised you're a foodie?"

"A foodie?" he repeats, rubbing his infuriatingly flat stomach.

"I know you know what I mean."

"I like nice things."

I swallow, nodding. "I see that."

"Like you."

I roll my eyes, but the ingrained girly-girl in me swoons just a little at the way his eyes travel over me, his attraction obvious even though I'm in an oversized t-shirt and rolled up sweatpants. His.

"Maybe that's why I like you," Edward continues. "You're a foodie, too."

"Yeah," I agree. "Except you even buy snobby soda..."

Smirky McSmirkeson rears his pretty head. "You mean natural soda without artificial colors and garbage?"

Taking another huge bite, I wink at him this time, earning a chuckle.

He moves my tray, ignoring my protests, and pulls me onto his lap.

"Mm still chewing," I mumble, covering my mouth but secretly thrilled to be close. Although, I hope I don't look gross. I swear this Edward makes me regress to seventh grade, all dumbstruck and paranoid about my appearance.

I must not be that hideous, though, because despite the sweatpants we're wearing, his hard on is apparent. I wiggle closer, making him suck in a sharp breath and still my hips with his hands.

He hands me his glass of snobby soda from the table beside the bed, and I finish it off, hoping there's no food around my mouth.

"Thanks." Giving him back his glass, I lean to kiss him.

His hands move beneath my t-shirt, sliding up over my sides, tickling me. Cringing back, I grab his hands, but he continues, touching me all over, cupping my breasts with the grin of a boy touching a pair of boobs.

"I love your body," he says.

"Coincidentally, I love yours." I mean, come on now.

He rests back against the pillows and lifts my shirt, peeking underneath, but I yank it back down. Unlike some people, my stomach actually looks like I just ate a sandwich. But he just stares at me and takes the shirt off altogether, leaving me topless in his lap. "Let me see."

"Didn't you see...earlier?" I ask, half joking. Just the thought of...earlier...makes me hot everywhere and his eyes widen, following the flush.

"Wow," he says, kissing the space between my breasts. "You blush all over."

"I know." I squirm, not used to such undivided attention.

Leaving little kisses all over my breasts, he sucks a nipple into his mouth. I tangle my fingers in his hair, watching until I can't and then I close my eyes, succumbing to how it feels.

"Pretty skin," he murmurs, running his nose over my neck. "Perfect."

"Perfect's kind of subjective..."

"Yeah, it is."

I rub my cheek against that soft hair of his, sighing. "I'm not perfect."

"Why not?" He bites the skin over my collarbone.

"Ouch." I swat at his arm, but he just licks the spot and continues his oral exploration. "I'm just not. Perfect is...Natasha Kai."

He laughs so hard my nipple slips from his mouth. "What do you know about Natasha Kai? You been researching?"

"I Google," I say, poking his forehead.

"Yeah? You ever Google me?"

"Nope."

"Charlie told me all about your computer desktop, by the way."

"I'm gonna kill her."

He smiles, squeezing my hips. "Natasha's a cool girl, but she's not my type."

"With a body like that she's everyone's type."

"You're generalizing. I like soft...supple..."

"Sounds like a Pantene commercial."

"I Googled you, too, you know."

"What?" Vaguely horrified, I rack my brain, trying to think of what he might have seen. "What'd you see? My Facebook?"

"No, it -"

"Oh, no. Not that picture of me and Mike and Emmett with the aprons, the time we did the Lambert wedding and -"

"Earlier. Way earlier."

I frown, puzzled.

"You had on this...short little skirt, and a sweater...purple...and your hair was really, really long..."

"No way!" I cover my face, mortified. "That was high school - ancient history! How did you even find that artifact?"

He laughs, prying my hands away.

"You're a stalker," I whine, recalling the total nerdiness of which he speaks. I was a gangly junior with a love for denim miniskirts and Uggs. "That was not a cute year for me."

"Actually it was a very cute year for you," he says. "It's a good thing I didn't know you back then, because the age difference would've been a problem."

"Was that my old school's site? How'd you even find that?"

"Emmett and I were looking at some of his old sports stuff, and then I just...kept looking around." His eyes return to my breasts. "You've got great tits."

"You know, flattery gets you everywhere."

"Um...Bell, Bella, waitwaitwait," Edward tenses and then collapses back onto the bed, chest heaving.

Swallowing like a good girl - I don't really like it, but it's better than waiting until I can spit it out - I wipe my mouth and rest back on my knees.

"Shit," he says, voice cracking.

I climb over him, pulling his sweatpants back up around his hips, kissing his stomach, loving how his abs contract involuntarily. I kiss every picture I see, and then I kiss the little nipple ring I somehow missed last night. I kiss and kiss until he shoves me off and rolls on top of me, holding my arms over my head.

"Hey," he says, beaming down at me like I just rocked his world with my bj skills.

"You gonna kiss me or wait til I brush my teeth?" I tease.

He lowers down, squashing me, kissing me - and properly, indeed. How dirty, I think, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as I kiss him back. I like dirty. The dirtier the better.

Eventually he eases off of me and yawns. "I'm so tired I could die."

"Let's go to sleep." I yawn too, peering at the digital clock by his bed. "It's so late it's early."

"You have to pick Chuck up early?"

Just hearing her name puts a sweet ache in my heart. "Nah, she'll be okay. Em always makes the kids banana pancakes on the weekends."

"Sounds good," he mumbles, already half asleep.

"He puts chocolate chips in 'em," I babble, delirious with exhaustion.

Edward fumbles for the lamp and turns it off. His arms find me in the darkness and pulls me close, wrapping his body around mine. "Night."

"Night."

Or morning, depending.

"Feel So Close" - Calvin Harris

xoxoxo