"It feels like a week ago that we left for work together this morning," she says, tipping her head to my shoulder in the back of the taxi.
"I know. Just think, that was way back before you were a rabid football fan. You're probably going to want to sit on the couch with me for half an hour and watch the post-game wrap-up."
She twists her neck to see if I'm serious. "Another half-hour? Seriously? After watching an hour pre-game and another four for the actual game, you really haven't had enough?"
"It's all part of the ritual," I explain.
"It's probably more fun when it's your team that won the game."
"True enough, but you're the one who won the pool. What are you gonna do with that $250?"
"Buy groceries, I guess," she chuckles, and I'm really relieved to see that she's being a good sport about her loss. I'm definitely planning on making it interesting for her, but it would've been a bummer if she acted like a sourpuss about it.
"Would you like to do the honors?" I ask at the door.
"Sure," she smiles, brandishing her new key chain and unlocking the door for her first time. I have to admit, I get a little jolt out of seeing her make herself at home, slipping off her shoes right at the door and dropping her purse onto the small table next to the door.
"I've got to get out of these clothes," she says in passing, on her way to her room.
"Let me know if you need help with that," I offer, half-jokingly. I take her non-answer as a no and plop myself lazily onto the couch and click on the post-game show. There is almost nothing finer than watching Tom Coughlin squirm and answer the media's questions after a big upset.
Almost nothing. It turns out, Isabella in just a football jersey is way finer.
I know better than to come between a man and his TV, especially where sports are involved, so I cross between them swiftly and take a seat next to Edward. His eyes follow my every move, and when I fold my legs underneath me, his gaze travels all the way to where the edge of the jersey meets the tops of my thighs. He's sprawled out along the middle cushion, and I don't crowd him, taking my spot against the arm.
Watch your show, Edward.
Both of us focus our eyes on the screen, but I can see him clearly in my peripheral vision. I see the swipe of his tongue across his lower lip.
No way I'd talk, but that doesn't mean I can't stretch my legs out and cross my ankles an inch from his right thigh. Our eyes stay fixed on the TV, but his hand touches down on my shin. His thumb hinges out and in. The media drone on with their questions.
His hand slides to my knee. My toes curl toward his pants and graze the fabric. He feels it.
"What were you thinking when the Eagles recovered the onside kick?"
I uncross my ankles and flatten my heels against his leg. The greedy pads of his fingers push their way up the inside of my thigh.
I'm all done watching TV. My eyes are on Edward. I scoot towards him. The jersey rides up behind me, and now he can easily see that I'm not wearing anything underneath.
But just in case his peripheral vision is in any way impaired, I spread my legs about six inches.
Edward turns his head to look right where I want him to, then up to my face. "Something tells me you're not interested in whether Hakeem Nicks will be starting next Sunday."
I shake my head no, and I wait patiently. Okay, not so patiently.
Without taking his eyes off mine, he clicks the remote and the room is mercifully silent. He grins, "Looks like you have a ways to go before you're a true football fan."
I grin right back, "I'm still in training."
Yes, my little trainee. Thanks for reminding me, Isabella. As if I weren't already hard enough for you underneath the cage of my boxers and work slacks. Lifting myself off the couch, I turn to her and plant one knee right between her legs. Extending my body on top of Isabella, I press my grin against hers and kiss both of them right off our faces.
One hand holds my weight off her; the other finds a breast through her jersey and squeezes. Her mood seems more rambunctious than cuddly tonight, and I seize on the opportunity. My hand slides down to the bottom of her shirt and I find her bare pussy open and wet.
She moans loudly as I pay some attention to her with all five fingers. "Nnngggh."
I have way too much clothing on for this party. Dropping my weight on her for a moment, I pull my jersey off over my head. The rough fabric covering my knee is pressing into her opening, but instead of being bothered, she presses herself against me shamelessly, searching for any friction she can get while I work the buttons of my shirt.
"Don't you worry, sweetheart, I am going to take good care of you…just as soon as I get my pants off."
Her hands are at my belt buckle instantly, dangerously close to my cock. She deftly works the button and zipper and starts her hands down my ass.
"Damn, you're eager!" I have to admire her tenacity. No sooner does she get my pants down to my thighs, then my boxer briefs join them.
She takes hold of what she's uncovered with both hands and pumps me several times before letting go.
"Fuuuuuck! I'm starting to think you only want me for my cock!"
"Not true," she answers. "I love your fingers and your lips just as much."
I sit up on my knees with the sad realization that the nearest condom is in my bedroom. Preparing to lift my pants so I can walk, I start, "Sorry, I've gotta go get-"
She grabs my wrist with her hand and halts my movement. Flipping my hand palm-up, she drops a condom right in the middle. Well, I'll be! "Pretty sure of yourself, are you?" I tease, as if I'd refuse her now or ever.
"Just hopeful," she answers with a knowing grin.
As I roll the condom on, I utter an oath, "We are both getting tested at lunch time tomorrow. Enough of this shit!"
Walking forward on my knees is not an easy feat with my pants and boxers binding them together. She welcomes me between her legs by opening them wide and locking her ankles behind my back. This woman means business!
I lift her with one hand, line us up with the other, and seconds later, we're joined.
"Ahhhhhhhh," we moan practically together as I push into her. She tips me over with her legs and my top half pitches forward onto hers. She pulls me against her chest and wraps her arms around me, and I have no opportunity to keep my weight from crushing her.
I want to feel him on top of me, every muscle, every ounce. I want him to smother me and own me and swallow me whole. My heels pull him in further with each thrust. I think I surprised him with my earlier aggression, but now he knows he's the one doing the pounding, the squashing, the devouring. He takes my cue and gives it all to me without holding back. My beautiful, wild, sexy beast unleashed and uncensored. I can't get enough of him. He thrusts, I rock. He pounds, I open for him. He crashes into me, I beg for more.
Harder. Harder. Harder.
"Jesus, Isabella, I'm gonna rip… you in two… if I fuck… you… any… harder."
OH MY GOD! Did I just make that request out loud?
He pushes and grunts and buries his face in my neck. I lift into him, creating unbearable friction against my hairless mound. His pounding against my insides is relentless, the rubbing against my clit is merciless.
I clutch him tighter at every contact point. He doesn't let up. I feel a building…
Grunt. Grunt. Grunt.
He punctuates each thrust with a slapping together of our bodies. Oh my God…
"That's it, Baby!...Reach for me with your pussy!...Up…Up….Up…!"
"Oh Fuck, Edward!...I'm gonna…Oh MY GOD!...Ahhhhhh!"
It takes me a good long while to get my wits back after that, and Isabella is so far gone, she's no help at all pulling me back. I wouldn't want it any other way.
I am a cocky son of a bitch right now for drawing out her orgasm this way. Truth is, she's the one who really did it; I just provided a little inspiration and the necessary body parts.
I try to roll to the side and relieve her of my heavy weight along her chest, but she holds on desperately and speaks into my ear, "Not yet. Please."
"Sure, sweetheart. Just say when." I get comfortable, wrapping my arms under her shoulders and snuggling my face into the curve of her neck.
She turns her head so her lips are at my ear. "Thank you. God, Edward…you're amazing."
I hit the cosmic jackpot when I discovered this woman. A girl who can challenge me intellectually AND likes it all kinds of freaky? My. Kinda. Girl.
"Right back at ya, baby," my chuckle rumbling through my chest onto hers. "Shit, Isabella, you didn't even let me take my shoes off!"
She looks down the length of my back, no doubt seeing my hastily arranged clothing around my knees and my work shoes at the end of the line. "I'm sorry about that. I guess I just couldn't wait."
"Holy hell, you are one demanding little vixen!" I say with what I hope she understands is an admiring tone.
She answers by squeezing her interior muscle walls around me, to which I respond quite immaturely by poking her right back. She taps me on the shoulder and says, "Okay, I'm done with you now."
"Aww, I feel so used," I pretend pout, pushing myself up onto my palms and planting a kiss on her lips. As I pull out, she passes both hands lovingly down my chest and watches me decondomize myself. It should definitely be a word.
I retrieve my discarded shirt and pull up my bottoms so I can walk down the hallway with a modicum of dignity, not that I place a premium on such things. Still, falling bare-assed on my face would be a bit more emasculating than I'm prepared to handle.
She turns into her doorway as we pass the guest room, and I'm inordinately disappointed. Wow. I can pretty much guarantee at this point we'd just be sleeping, and yet, I find myself yearning for her company.
"G'night," I say, not giving away my feelings.
"Oh," she answers in surprise, causing my eyebrows to lift. "G'night," she adds, and now I hear a touch of disappointment.
"Wait, weren't you just—"
"…Going to brush my teeth!"
"Oh!" I smile idiotically. I get a grip on myself and summon as much cool as I can muster, now that the proverbial beans have been spilled. "See you in a few then."
"Sure. Yeah," she answers awkwardly.
Oh brother. We both have a lot to learn.
Could this shy, sweet person be the same unbridled stallion who was pounding into me relentlessly not twenty minutes ago? I ask my toothpaste-covered reflection. I have to laugh around the foam. It's all still so surreal. It's ludicrous, actually, if I stop and think about it.
I am living with a virtual stranger and I've never felt so much at home in my whole life.
I finish my evening ablutions as efficiently as possible because I honestly just can't wait to be next to him again. Slinking down to his room, the master, I find his doorway wide open and inviting. Not really knowing the rules here, I rap my knuckles against the doorframe.
"You don't need to knock unless it's closed," comes a voice from the bed.
"Okay," I answer timidly into the dark.
I move toward the sound of rustling sheets, cautiously feeling with my hands for the bed. Banging my nose on a bedpost would not be the best way to cap off the evening.
"Sorry," he says, "I should've left the light on for you."
"I'm good," I answer, climbing up with one knee and finding that he's holding open a welcoming arm. I slide in and press against his body.
"Mmmmm." He's naked. I still have my jersey on, but I soon remedy that situation.
"Ahhhhh," he sighs appreciatively, pulling me in again and lining up our bodies face to face.
"Did you set the alarm?" I ask.
"Mmhm, 6:15, same as today."
"Thank you," I tell him, because he doesn't usually go in this early. "You sure you want to come in with me?"
"Yeah. It's fine."
"So…tomorrow?" I begin. "How about I go to the store and meet you back here after work?"
"You sure you don't want me to go shopping with you?"
"You won. You shouldn't have to go to the store." No, Edward. Let me. "I want to do this…all the way."
Holy shit, there I go again. Getting horny thinking about cooking for Edward. I wonder briefly if this ridiculous desire to serve him will ever go away…or at least become a dull roar instead of the voracious need I seem to be feeling 24/7.
"All the way, huh? And you're okay with my building a scene around that tomorrow night?"
I'm way ahead of you, Master!
"Sure," I try to say evenly. "That would be fun." Oh my God, I am such a sick puppy.
From the feel of his rising erection, I can tell I'm not the only one in this bed with some dirty thoughts swirling around. Now how is anyone going to get any sleep?
I nestle my face against his chest and sink into the warmth and strength his body offers. Just before I nod off, I note with passing interest that I'm on the opposite side of the bed from my usual spot, and I'm not bothered in the least.