SCENE’S OVER, SWEETHEART
My elbows can no longer support me, and I drop my head to the table, recalling the obscenity of the video we watched earlier. God, what a night! I’m wiped out.
Edward releases my legs gingerly, making sure I’m still balanced on the arms of the chair. He walks his palms up the sides of my body, dropping kisses along my abdomen, between my breasts, at the base of my neck, my chin, and finally, my lips. Oh yeah…he tastes like me.
His hands are at the buckle of my collar and he utters the familiar words I’ve already come to dread, “Scene’s over, sweetheart.” I realize there’s no way either of us could sustain this scene a moment longer, and yet, I feel a melancholy at its completion.
He lifts my upper body off the table and helps me dismount. “Keep me company while I do the dishes?”
“You don’t have to do the dishes, Edward. It’s part of the bet.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, we left it up to the winner’s discretion.”
“Mind if I go put a t-shirt on?” I say absently, turning toward my room. My room.
“I’d certainly prefer if you didn’t,” he says, catching me completely off guard and watching carefully for my response. Sheesh, he might be even hotter when he’s just Edward saying what he wants. I find him impossible to refuse in any embodiment. “Since you asked…” he says, utterly unapologetically.
“Okay, then,” I agree, letting him pull me by the hand and settle me on the stool at the kitchen counter. Naked in the dining room, naked in the kitchen. Good times.
He takes stock of the mess, surveying through pinched eyes and scratching at the back of his head.
“Would you like to retract your offer?” I tease.
“No. Just trying to figure out where to begin. You’re a little bit dangerous in the kitchen.”
And you’re a little bit dangerous everywhere, Edward Cullen.
I chuckle. “Are you kidding? This one’s a breeze. A knife, a cutting board, a stock pot, and a few empty cans to recycle…you should see me when I pull out the Cuisinart!”
“Remind me not to volunteer for clean-up duty on those nights!” he grins.
“Edward, in all seriousness, is it freaking you out that I’m in your space? I know I’m not exactly the neatest person…”
His hand immediately drops to his side and he turns to face me, full on. And for a moment, I’m so blinded by the absolute perfection of his bare chest and the way it tapers so enticingly into the top of his jeans, that I almost miss the look of anxiety I’ve caused to appear across his face.
“No, Isabella,” he says firmly. “I am nothing less than outrageously grateful for your presence in my life and in my home. And if I’ve done or said a single thing to make you feel otherwise…” And here, he shakes his head sadly, “Shame on me.”
“Oh, God no, Edward. No, you’ve been the ideal host. I was just imagining what it must feel like for an obviously organized, tidy, self-sufficient bachelor to suddenly be invaded by a live-in girl—…whatever…who creates disorder at every turn.”
“You want to know how that feels to me? It feels like goddamn perfection. Order is highly overrated.”
Her broad smile comforts me, and I hope she’ll take my words to heart. “Okay?” I ask, reaching my top half across the counter to kiss her and holding her chin until she answers me softly with an echoing okay.
“Now, sit up a little taller back there so I can see your tits while I scrub this pot.”
She rolls her eyes but fulfills my request, as always, and my good mood springs right back when her nipples appear over the granite horizon. “Much better,” I nod, digging into my work.
The work of cleaning up progresses smoothly once the stockpot is handled, and the kitchen is soon back to something I can recognize.
“This would sure make an excellent lunch tomorrow,” I suggest, placing the sealed plastic container in the fridge. “Feel like a Boggle date?” I’m not really pushing it, just putting the bug in her ear. Planting the seed…
“Yeah…okay.” That is not enthusiasm, but she’s agreed, and I’ll take what I can get at work.
I dry my hands on the towel and loop it over the faucet. “Do you want to talk out here or in bed?”
“Talk?” she grimaces.
I walk around to her side of the counter and lift her off the stool. She wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ll do this one in the dark.”
I carry her down the hall and slide her to her feet outside her room. “See you in a few?”
“Sure,” she says tiredly.
I better not waste any time tonight. She’s exhausted, and my window of opportunity is closing. My bedtime preparations are quick, and I remember to leave the bedside lamp on when I climb under the covers.
I quickly realize that the advantage to leaving the light on, from my perspective, is that I get to see what she’s wearing to bed. Tonight, it’s the very brief cami and matching bikini bottom in a light pink color, blush, I correct myself, that I bought for her. I click off the light after she safely reaches the bed, and she crawls right over to me, nestling her face into the crook of my neck and pressing the length of her body against mine. I wrap my arms around her and pull her in tightly until she stops shivering.
“Why are you always so cold at night? Your feet are like icicles!” She teases me by running said cold feet along my shins until I trap them between my knees.
Her head pops up onto her pillow, and even in the dark, I can make out the intensity in her eyes. She tentatively reaches to kiss me, and I return the gesture fervently. My hand finds the soft skin of her cheek, caressing her gently.
“Is this shift confusing for you?” I ask, when she pulls back.
“No. It’s all good.” Honestly? It is.
She reaches for my lips again and I cup her chin in my hand. “Isabella M Swan, are you kissing me to avoid talking?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Hunh. It’s not gonna work. Come on, let’s review, before you fall asleep on me.”
“I want to hear about the part I wasn’t there for tonight. Tell me about picking out your collar, and how you selected the one you did.”
“Realistically? There weren’t that many choices at the grocery store. I considered asking the butcher for some twine, but that didn’t really seem very interesting. And once I walked down the pet aisle, I kind of knew.”
“Were there other collars there?”
“Yes.” I pause before giving him the rest, “The choke collars scared me a little, to be honest. Is that something you’ve ever…?”
“Oooh, well, I could’ve worked with that, but I’m pretty glad you didn’t come home with that type. Tell me how it felt to pull that one down and put it in your basket.” He’s moved his hand to my neck, tracing his thumb softly across the area in question.
“I tried to imagine your response, and I hoped you’d be pleased with my choice.”
“Oh, I was.”
“And I imagined how it would feel around my neck.”
“And?” he prompts.
“Well, when you first put it on me, it was pretty amazing, especially since it seemed like you really approved of my choice. But then, honestly? I kind of forgot I had it on.”
“Hmm. You won’t feel that way when I hook your wrist cuffs to it or attach a leash.”
“Oh shit. Seriously?”
“Yeah, babe. Seriously.”
I am so glad it’s dark. He does not need to see what this is doing to me.
“What’d you think of the movie?”
“I think you know the answer to that one. Ask me something more interesting.”
“Fair enough. How did your experience being my dinner slave compare to the fantasy?”
“Like everything else about being with you. Better than I ever imagined.”
“Can you tell me what you liked about it?” he presses further.
I take a long pull of breath into my lungs and exhale a dreamy sigh, thinking back on how exciting it was to meet his every need, service his every whim. “Just being there for you, I guess…providing you with everything you needed…and wanted. Watching you take pleasure in the food I made…” Crap, this is so hard.
“Making yourself available for me to touch and look and take as I pleased?” he adds.
“God, yes,” I admit.
“And being stretched across my lap?”
“Nnnnghh,” I quiver, reliving the erotic spanking he delivered.
The bed shakes with his laughter. “Highly articulate, sweetheart.”
“That’s what happens when you reduce a person to mush.”
“Can you climb back into that moment for me and describe what you were thinking?”
Can I climb back onto your lap and feel the soft slap of your hand over and over? Sure. Why not?
“Mmm, I could start with how dirty the whole thing felt taking place in the dining room, under your elegant table. And then there’s the fact that my bare nipples and thighs were rubbing across your jeans… And you pulled down my bottoms, but left them there, reminding me of what had been stripped away…” Oh FUCK, a shiver rumbles through my body like a freight train with faulty brakes. He rubs his hands vigorously up and down my arms.
I continue, “And you were teasing me about asking for it, and how it wasn’t a punishment…”
“And making you actively hold onto the chair rather than tying you to it. It was a fate entirely of your own making,” he helps pinpoint the root of my arousal for me.
You wanted this, you dirty girl. Humiliation colors my cheeks. Thank God I can hide my face in his chest right now. “Like you did this whole spanking for me, because I’m so needy. Wow. Embarrassing!” I giggle nervously to try to mask my mortification.
He tucks my head under his chin protectively and answers my concern immediately, “Shame can be an incredibly potent aphrodisiac for some people, Isabella.”
Apparently. Of all the revelations and tidbits of fantasy I’ve tossed Edward’s way, this seems the most dangerous. Not that it’s something he hadn’t already intuited, I’m quite sure. My stories read like…well, an open book. And this particular kink is all over my writing. I know this. I know he knows this. But still, giving it a name and talking about it openly feels scarier than anything else up to this point.
I inhale deeply, breathing in his strength. I let out an airy squeak that sounds like a frightened kitty. A kitty held in the muscular arms of a mighty lion, who holds the strength to either crush me or redeem me.
He goes on to detail my depravity. “This is the mental fuckery piece. You knew I wasn’t going to hurt you. I was barely striking you. But you know you’re not “supposed to” like the way that feels, you’re not supposed to want someone to pull down your panties and spread you open and spank you! You didn’t even do anything wrong!
“But the thing is, you do want it. And that’s humiliating for you. And… that excites you.”
You can say that again. His explanation is making me almost as hot as the activity itself, and before I realize it, I’m grinding on the thigh he’s so graciously slid my way.
“This doesn’t bode well for me, does it?” I venture cautiously, dipping my toe into murky waters.
“Sure it does, sweetheart. In the hands of the right master.” With that, he slides one hand between us and finger dives straight into my panties.
I express my appreciation loudly and I beg, as I couldn’t during the scene, but I sure as hell can now. “Please, Edward….please.”
“Fuck, Isabella, you are soaked!” He rubs his flat palm firmly against my clit.
“Mmm,” I agree, humping his hand wantonly.
“Beg me some more or I’ll stop,” he threatens, cruelly pausing his hand for a second.
I say it all now, everything I couldn’t when I was over his knee. All the shameful, shameless begging. I can’t possibly worry about being embarrassed right now. I have a singular purpose, and I am a slave to this need. “Please, Edward, touch me, don’t stop, please, harder, oh… fuck, fuck….please, more…just don’t…stop…fuck...aieeee!”
I think the operant conditioning theorists have it correct: if this keeps up, Bella will soon be eager for our post-playtime talks. Not that I want her to learn to expect …well, anything, because that could lead to all kinds of problems down the road. She should absolutely know that she’ll get my honesty and support, but the orgasm is a random incentive that will never be predictable.
“Think you can focus back to the conversation now?” I tease, as she drifts back to me.
“Mmhmm,” she hums, still coasting along on her little happy cloud. At least now, I can see her face.
“So was there anything at all about the scene that squicked you out or detracted from your experience?”
“Just that one second where you had me bent over the table and you came up behind me.”
Fuck, I knew it. “Isabella, do you remember our deal?”
“Yes,” she confirms swiftly. “And I told myself you wouldn’t, but still…I mean, I would’ve safe worded, but, I have to admit to a moment of panic.”
“I’d like to set aside some time to work on limits checklists this weekend. It’s time. It may feel like getting fucked with a chainsaw while we’re doing it, but trust me, you’ll be way more relaxed when we play after we get that done.”
I hope she won’t resist, but I’m not surprised when she lets loose an unhappy sigh.
“You’re right,” she answers finally. “Sure, let’s do it.”
Damn, she never ceases to surprise and delight me.
“Was anything else uncomfortable for you?”
“You mean besides those goddamn shoes?”
“The shoes are non-negotiable, Isabella. They’re insta-boner.”
“Well, I’m not wearing them right now, and you seem to be managing just fine.” Her thigh rubs against my hard-on.
“Yes, well, even talking about them does it for me. What can I say?” And the little convo we just had about your spanking didn’t hurt either. “I know we touched on this during the scene, but your delayed gratification…how did that feel for you?”
“Well, you know I tend to do that a lot in my writing. And even though my previous partner failed to satisfy me on a regular basis, he wasn’t doing it on purpose.”
“Hey, neither did I, baby. You were the one who took thirteen plus minutes to get me off.”
“Mmhm,” she agrees sarcastically, knowing good and well that I could’ve given her more time for herself. “I was going to say that being denied for real was a lot harder than I expected.”
“Is there a ‘but’?”
“Yeah. I have to admit, I’m a little afraid to be truthful with you on this one.”
I hate to tell you honey, but I already got the message loud and clear. “And here’s where you really need to trust me. I’m only going to use the information you give me to make it better for you. Personally, I get no inherent thrill out of denying you. It only pleases me to the extent that it makes you a horny mess for me and keeps you that much more in the scene.”
“You already know I love it,” she admits, realizing resistance is futile.
“So why do I have to tell you this?”
“Because, the next time we play and I decide that you’re not getting a happy ending, I want you to remember that it’s because it’s what you need, not what I want. Because I promise you it won’t feel that way at the time.”
“You are an extremely complicated man.”
She makes me chuckle. And she makes me kiss her. And then, she makes me pin her flat on her back and make love to her.
“Edward,” I whisper, since I’m not entirely sure he’s still awake.
“Yeah?” his groggy voice drifts over his shoulder and meets me where I’m still lying on my back.
“I was wondering…” and now I’m having second thoughts about bringing this up, especially when we should both rightfully be sleeping.
Sensing my hesitation, he flips over so he’s on his side now, facing me. He tucks both hands underneath his pillow and hums a lazy, “Hmmm?”
“Don’t take this as a complaint or anything…”
This causes him to prop his head up and find my eyes in the dark room. “What is it?” he asks, concern creeping into his voice.
“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons, but it occurs to me…”
“It occurs to you…?”
“Press the space bar a few times and say that again please?”
“You haven’t tied me up yet.” I cover my eyes with my hands, wishing like hell I’d never started this conversation.
I feel pressure at my wrist as he peels one hand away and situates his face right over mine. When I force open the exposed eye, I am treated to his broad grin. Hello, Dark Prince.
“Yeah. I know,” he answers.
“Okay, then. Well, good night,” I respond, confused but afraid to poke further.
“Is that it then?” he chuckles.
“Yeah, thanks. Sorry to bother you.” Rolling away from him, I pull the covers tightly around my shoulders and squeeze my eyes shut, cursing myself for broaching the topic and cursing him for leaving me so frustrated.
Moments later, his warm hand snakes around my front, coming to rest across my chest. He cups my breast soothingly as he sidles up along my back, easing the covers away so he can press himself against my bare skin. He nuzzles his nose along the base of my neck and tickles me with his warm breath.
His answer is a gift I didn’t think I would receive tonight. His voice holds the gravelly intimacy of pillow talk, “A certain level of trust is required.”
“I trust you,” I answer immediately, hearing the quiver in my own voice.
He places a soft kiss just below my ear and answers, “I know.”
I haven’t said enough, and the last thing I want to do is discourage her from sharing exactly this type of thing with me in the future. But I need to carefully weigh the value of exposing my plans. “And I’ve grown to trust you as well.”
Her own hand covers mine and we play at her breast together. “You trust me? Sorry, I don’t…”
That’s what I thought. “You probably won’t believe this, but I’m actually fairly conservative in my views.”
I not only hear, but also feel, her sudden guffaw at my confession. “Lord help the submissive who has the radical dom then.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be sleeping in his bed, for starters,” I tell her. “Our arrangement is unorthodox by any standards.” To say the very least.
“I like our arrangement,” she says timidly, her words bringing a smile to my face.
I pull her closer and drop my lips to her soft shoulder. “So do I.” How to explain this? “You know, one of the reasons I put you through the torture of talking with me afterwards is so I can gauge… certain things.”
“What things?” she asks.
“Well, for starters, your desire to obey versus your need to push the envelope.”
“Oh,” she answers. “And how do I measure up?” Her hand stops moving, awaiting my response.
“Inside our scenes, you seem incredibly eager to obey,” I answer, unable to hold in my smile. “Do I have that right?”
“Well, duh. Isn’t that the point?”
I have to laugh. “You might be surprised. There actually are submissives whose goal seems to be testing their masters or even drawing punishment.”
“That would not be me,” she states emphatically.
“No,” I agree.
“What else?” she asks, holding the thread of conversation.
“Before I’m willing to bind a sub in any way, I need to be comfortable that she’ll use her safe word if there’s any hesitation. And tonight, you assured me that you would have, if the situation had gone a different direction…”
“Definitely,” she confirms. “If it had gone a southerly direction, shall we say?”
I chuckle, “Well, now that I can be comfortable with that,” I explain, “I’m more inclined to trust that you’d let me know if things went beyond what you could handle.”
“I would, Edward. I promise.”
“That’s good, Isabella,” I answer absently, slipping into the fantasy I’d already started to formulate in my mind. “I think we should take tomorrow night off, but if you’re up for it, Thursday night?”
“Yeah?” she asks, her body tipping back toward me, ever so slightly.
“Well, let’s just say, you’re bound to enjoy it.”
Her fingers weave around mine and she rounds her back against my chest. I answer her by curling my body around hers protectively, possessively. Yes, Isabella, I answer her wordlessly. I know what you need. Have no fear; you will be my captive soon.