Friday, June 1, 2012


~Chapter 29~

“Mmmm,” I hum and stretch like a contented kitty, or maybe I should say “pussy.” Edward’s head is propped in his hand, bent elbow at my side, observing me with a broad grin.

I reach for his chest reflexively and he returns the favor by starting one finger at my neck, trailing it between my breasts, and stopping just above the bull’s-eye. He doesn’t stop the finger exactly; he just stops its descent. He draws tiny circles, teasing out my desire. I model good behavior for him by grabbing his hard cock and giving him a firm caress. He answers by pushing himself against my hand, but his own motion continues maddeningly in the same vein. I close my eyes, willing his hand to reach just a fraction of an inch lower.

Ten minutes and counting. It’s plenty of time…if only he’d slip down…

He thrusts against my hand and I increase the pressure, squeezing him on the way down and paying his balls some attention before stroking my way back to the top. Edward drops along the bed as I work him closer and closer. His lips play absently along my shoulder; hot exhales blow gently across my ear. And still, the hand offers no relief.

I’m ashamed of myself but I can’t help but peek at the clock again. T minus three minutes until alarm. Frantic to get started, I lift my hips to help him reach better. Instead of having the desired effect, my movement causes his hand to still against my abdomen. Damn, damn, damn!

Edward is slick in my hand and he’s actively pumping against me. I imagine his pleasure mounting, and my frustration gets the better of me. I have a spare hand, I remember, preparing to send in my own troops for battle. I lift my idle hand from the bed and just as I’m about to place it on my abdomen, I remember my assignment. And that’s when I realize he’s done this all on purpose to turn me into a hot mess before I even get out of bed.

If it’s possible to both love and hate what he’s done at the same time, that would accurately describe my feelings right now. His pleasure sprays up the length of my arm just as his iPod clicks on.

“I can’t get no…satisfaction…” Tell me about it, Mick.

Edward rolls away from me and onto his back, staring at the ceiling with a self-satisfied grin. “Good morning,” he greets merrily, turning his head to examine the wreckage—me.

“Speak for yourself,” I growl, pushing out of bed and wiping myself down with the washcloth.

“Be careful in the shower,” he calls to my back. “No cheating.”

Such a bastard, right down to the music selection.

Isabella is delightfully petulant in the car. She can’t figure out a safe place to rest her hands, and finally sets them on the seat on either side of her camel-covered lap. Her fingers twitch anxiously inside the brown leather gloves.

“Do you know your schedule yet for the afternoon?” I ask.

“I have a meeting at 2. It should wrap up around 4.”

“So we can get an early start?”

She looks at me beseechingly, but I couldn’t say for sure whether she wants me to stop reminding her about later or to get to it as soon as possible.

“Sure. It’s a pretty light schedule for the rest of the week. I won’t be missed if I leave at 6.”

“Good,” I answer, taking her nearest gloved hand in mine and pulling it onto my thigh. “What plans have you made with Angela?”

“Saul & Stella’s at 12:30. How about you?”

“The Stage at 1.” I can practically hear my arteries weeping even as I imagine the first bite of my pastrami, turkey, roast beef, and Swiss cheese on rye with Cole slaw and Russian dressing.

Her face relaxes into a smile and she says, “You’re going to finish one of those triple-decker monstrosities, aren’t you?”

“With a side of fries. They call it the ‘Barbra Streisand’ but I refuse to order it that way.”

“You could always let Riley order it for you,” she suggests.

“Because having my gay friend order the Streisand for me wouldn’t be even gayer?”

She giggles and answers, “You’ve got a point there.”

The car pulls to a stop, and while Domenic circles back to open the door, I shift in my seat to face Isabella.

“You be good today, princess.” I give her hand a final squeeze before letting go and disembarking.

It’s only one day. Not even a whole day. Just eleven more hours. Well, eleven more hours before we’re together again. Who knows how long he’ll leave me twisting before he touches me…if he touches me!

Bad enough my imagination is running away with me on the topic of what Edward might have planned for later. But I also have to deal with the aftershocks of Chapter Six.

The memory stick has probably seared a hole right through my handbag on the short ride in. I fully realize that I should never have brought it with me—today of all days. I have precious little time to finish, I rationalize, and there’s nothing more frustrating than letting an inspired thought slip away. And you can’t just write down one random thought, you have to make sure it gels with the rest of the story, so you’ve just got to have it all there in front of you.

Apparently, I was correct in assuming I’d be pregnant with story ideas today. The elevator hasn’t even hit ten yet, and I’ve already conjured the next nasty bit in my head. I lift my eyes to the ceiling lest I be required for human interaction and lose the thread of fictional conversation and smuttitude.

If I can hang in there till 12:15, the relative purity of Angela and the Warwick team meeting should hold me off until 4. Then it’ll just be a matter of two more hours—

“Miss Swan? 35?” comes a voice behind me in the elevator.

“Wha—?…Oh… Alice, thank you.”

Jessica jumps out of her seat when she sees me, coffee in hand. “Thank you, Jessica. I thought I was getting the coffee today.”

She shrugs amiably.

“Well, thank you. Again. Why don’t you give me till 9:30 to get organized and we can pull things together then?”

“Sure, Miss Swan.” I turn toward my office, but she adds, “Oh, um …”

I spin around again. “Yes?”

“This is sort of awkward…”

Spit it out, for heaven’s sakes, Jessica. I have porn to write!

“I understood from my predecessor that I was to guard your office vigilantly?”

God bless Alice. “Yes.”

“But there was one person who was to be given some leniency in this regard?”

Oh fuck. Jasper.  No wonder he was waiting in my office yesterday. Jessica is really squirming now. “Am I to understand that the situation has…shifted?” she asks as tactfully as possible.

“Yes, Jessica. You’re correct. Mr. Whitlock should be treated like any other visitor coming to call.”

“And Edward?” she asks quickly, as I start to turn away again.

Hmmm, what of Edward, the master who denied me this morning? “Edward won’t mind waiting to be announced.” That should settle things for now.

“Thank you for clarifying that for me,” Jessica says, much more confident now.

“Glad you asked.”

Unburdened of coat, gloves, hat, and baggage, I plop into my seat and wake my computer. A moment of paranoia strikes, and I wonder, could he divine what I’m doing up here in my office? I’m using Word and I’m not saving to the hard drive. Nah, not even Edward is that foxy.

“And for you, sir?” the waiter asks, pencil poised over his tiny pad.

“I’ll have the pastrami, roast beef, turkey, and Swiss on rye with Russian and a side of fries.”

“One…Barbra…Streisand,” he writes, tapping the lead at the end before inquiring, “Anything else?”

Riley guffaws, drawing the waiter’s attention—again. “Anything else, Edward?” Riley parrots.

“Nope, that should do it,” I answer both of them, handing the waiter my menu.

“Jesus, I’d give anything to have your metabolism,” he shakes his head ruefully.

I shrug. “It’s a gift. The waiter is into you.”

“Jealous?” he responds with a smirk.

“Nah, I’ve got my hands full.”

“Me, too,” he replies cheerfully.

“So, things with Sean are getting pretty serious?”

“Yeah,” he says dreamily. “I’m starting to see white picket fences.”

“Holy shit, Rile. That’s huge!”

“I know,” he exhales grandly and his smile grows even larger. “I hardly recognize myself anymore!”

“Tell me about it. I wore slippers last night.”

He feigns horror, “The most conclusive evidence of domesticity since homo walked erectus.”

I burst out laughing, “Yeah, I do that quite a bit as well, lately.”

Lately? Edward, you’re the most sexualized person I know.”

“Maybe that’s just because you know me better than you know anyone else,” I posit, though I know his theory is accurate.

“Or maybe it’s because you are a walking, breathing, six-foot-three-inch wall of solid porn.”

How is it that waiters seem to know exactly when they shouldn’t intrude, and they go ahead and do just that? At Riley’s description of me, the waiter raises his eyebrows and gives me a painstaking once-over.

“Dude, can I have my lunch now?” I point my eyes toward the heavy plate he’s holding aloft.

“Sure,” he answers, hastily placing my meal in front of me. Riley chuckles as he receives his own lunch plate, a sandwich that could be the infant offspring of mine. The waiter walks away, but not before looking back and forth between us once more.

“I think I may have some competition,” Riley guesses.

“Are you kidding? He’s wondering how to get in on the threesome.”

Riley gives me a long stare. “You’re evil, you know that?”

“I know someone else who’s thinking that right about now.” I pull the humongous sandwich to my mouth.

“What’d you do this time, Edward?” he asks with a hint of mischievous conspiracy.

I swallow down the satisfying combination of ingredients and ponder my grouchy submissive from this morning. “It’s what I didn’t allow her to do…and what I’m going to do later.”

Riley shakes his head. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in the room with the two of you?”

“We were just watching the game, Ri,” I respond innocently.

“Sure. And I wasn’t thinking about bending Sean over the bar.”

“Did you ever think maybe you’re just projecting?”

“Yeah, right.”

I’m one minute early, but Angela’s already waiting in our booth, as usual. I slide in opposite her and she skips the greetings. “Give, Swan.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Ange.”

She waves off my perfunctory holiday cheer and holds her cell phone out toward me, displaying my text message from the night of the ball.

“Can we at least order lunch?” I ask, picking up the menu though I know it by heart. In honor of Edward, I choose a turkey sandwich.

Angela places her order and the server scoots off. “So?”

“Okay. Well…so this guy Edward—”

“Whoa, whoa, whooaaaaaah! Back up a sec. Can we start with Jasper? As in, the guy you were about to spend the rest of your life with?”

“Jas…Jasper…” I slump back against the slippery upholstery. “Angela, Jasper and I weren’t right for each other,” I say simply, as if that could begin to cover it.

She sets down her phone and softens her attitude. “What happened, Bella?”

“Nothing. There wasn’t anything…that was kind of the whole point.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, squeezing my hand on the table between us. “I had no idea.”

“It’s not something that happened suddenly; it was just a realization that came to me over time that we were holding each other back, rather than helping each other grow.”

“Wow. You could’ve fooled me.”

“I guess I was fooling myself, too. For a while, at least. But then, I just couldn’t ignore the signs.”

“The signs being…” she glances at her phone, “this Edward guy?”

My gaze follows hers and I look wistfully at her iPhone, as if the device could conjure Edward’s presence at the table. “I’m not really sure if Edward was the chicken or the egg. And even then, I wouldn’t know which came first. Oh, God, Ange…I don’t know.”

“How did Jasper take it?”

“Not well. I wasn’t trying to be cruel, honest.”

“Of course you weren’t, sweetie” she soothes, and I am once again reminded of her kind acceptance of all my faults.

“Can we move off Jasper please?”

“Sure. Tell me about the new guy. Like for starters, why does he come with a warning label?”

I roll my eyes. “He insisted on that. He was trying to protect me.”

“From himself?” she puzzles.

“Yeah,” and a soft laugh escapes me. Because how does one explain the complicated wonder that is Edward Cullen, let alone all the other guys who make up the package deal?

“What’s he like?”

I can’t help the smile that grows. “Edward is more like a whole experience than a single person. He’s intense—nothing escapes his notice. He goes after what he wants until he gets it.”

“’It’ being ‘you’?”

“Yes, for one.”

“So he pursued you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t really even know it at the time…I was already coming to my own realizations.”

“What does he look like?” she leads.

“Drop your pants gorgeous!” We both dissolve into giggles as our food arrives. She tucks into her salad while I attempt to put words to Edward’s otherworldly beauty. “I probably noticed his crazy coppery-gold hair first, but that’s only because he hadn’t turned his eyes on me yet. Angela, I’m telling you, when he looks at me…I’m so gone.”


“And…he is one fine, tall drink of lemonade on a hot summer day. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, totally cut right down to his waist, and oh, below the belt…mmm.”

Angela smacks my hand playfully. “Bella!” She’s bright red now. I love teasing her.

“Ange, I’m telling you, if a person could package sex into the perfect container, it would look exactly like Edward. And I know all about product packaging.”

“So when do I get to meet this guy?”

“So we’re settled,” Rosalie says, closing out the meeting and standing to dismiss the two of us. “You’ll prioritize according to this work plan, and all the machines will be updated before January sixth.”

I peruse the page and note with annoyance that the evil stepmonster is out in full force this afternoon. She’s assigned me both Charlie’s and Jasper’s machines, while Isabella’s falls to Emmett.

“Oh, and Edward?” she calls as I’m halfway out the door. “Nice work.”

I look for the sarcasm, but oddly, I find none. Rose is one of the most confusing women I know, but I don’t have any spare brain cells for pondering her mysteries right now. It’s already 5:30, and I have routines to run before heading out. I’m not about to get waylaid today. Predictably, Emmett and Rose vacate the area by 5:45, and it’s just me and the hardware.

Meet me at my desk. The coast is clear. E
Be down in 10.

No resistance. Excellent. True to her word, Isabella steps off the elevator ten minutes later and finds me leaning on the front of my desk, waiting. It’s a little bulky with all her winter layers, but her lips are unobstructed, and I pull her in close for a kiss.

“Hi,” I greet her, holding her body close to mine.


“Do you like sushi?”

What?” she answers, completely thrown by my question.

“I’m going to stop and pick up dinner on my way home. Do you like sushi?”


“What are your top three preferences?’

“Anything with salmon or tuna. And I love tobiko.”

“Soba or Udon?”

“Whichever you like better.”

“That was easy,” I comment, unwrapping her long wool scarf and setting it on my desk. She’s wearing a short strand of pearls beautifully offset by the creamy silk of her skin and the deep blue of her blouse. I slip one finger between the pearls and her skin. “Do you have a safe place for these if I remove them?”

Her breath catches and her eyes blink up into mine. She nods quickly, understanding. My fingers slide behind her neck to the clasp and I open it gingerly. I let one end slip away and it drops tantalizingly into her blouse. I pull slowly with the other hand, lifting the necklace up and away from her body and handing it to her. She opens her purse and tucks the necklace into an interior pouch, returning to her previous position in front of me.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Her eyes suddenly take on a worried look. “Here?” she asks nervously.

“Yes. I need you ready for me when I arrive home.”

Her inner conflict is swift and decisive. “Ready.” She quickly adds, “Sir,” with a whisper, though there is nobody to witness but me. I pull the plain black velvet choker from my pocket. No jingle bells attached this time, or anything else that might snag during the scene. I walk behind her and drop the loop around front. She lifts her hair in another gesture of acquiescence, and I smile to myself. Tying the bow firmly, I give one final tug to signal the beginning of our scene.

Slipping around between Isabella and the desk, I see that she’s confused about how to stand, what to do with her hands, feet and eyes. “You’re fine just like that,” I tell her. “Now tell me, have you been a good girl today?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers quietly, dropping her eyes to my chest.

“Excellent,” I smile. “You’re going to have Domenic drive you home now, and I’m going to give you some time to freshen up and prepare yourself for me. This,” I indicate her full head of hair, “is the only hair I want to see on your body.

Everything comes off…jewelry included. The only things I want you wearing when I get home are my collar and a smile.”

Dare I? “No green shoes, Sir?”

“Not tonight.”

“Well, that should make the smiling easier, Sir,” I add cautiously.

“No doubt,” he responds with a hearty chuckle. “Do you remember your position when I was feeding you the other night?”

“Yes, Sir.” Um, could I ever forget sitting back on my heels with my knees spread open and my hands locked on my ankles? Not likely.

“Good,” he answers, and by his lascivious smirk, I can see he well remembers it, too. “It’s 6:10 right now. At 7:00, I want you in that same position, right in front of the door so that you’re the very first thing I see. Any questions?”

I have to assume the no-touching rule is still in effect, and I can’t give him the satisfaction of asking. I’m not positive what ‘freshening’ entails, but I’ll do my best in the time he’s allotted me.

“No, Sir.”

“Okay, then,” he says, replacing the wool scarf at my neck and tying it over the velvet. “Off you go. See you at 7.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“No, thank you, Isabella.”


  1. Good evening Born, I hope all is well. What a tease that man is, lol......{I lift my idle hand from the bed and just as I’m about to place it on my abdomen, I remember my assignment. And that’s when I realize he’s done this all on purpose to turn me into a hot mess before I even get out of bed.}{ ‘I can’t get no…satisfaction…’ Tell me about it, Mick.

    Edward rolls away from me and onto his back, staring at the ceiling with a self-satisfied grin. “Good morning,” he greets merrily, turning his head to examine the wreckage—me.

    “Speak for yourself,” I growl, pushing out of bed and wiping myself down with the washcloth.

    “Be careful in the shower,” he calls to my back. “No cheating.”

    Such a bastard, right down to the music selection.} Wahahaha. Poor Bella.

    Yeah probably not a great day for her to write. OI mean hell, did she forget how worked up she got writing it last night. {The memory stick has probably seared a hole right through my handbag on the short ride in. I fully realize that I should never have brought it with me—today of all days.}

    Let the fun times begin. Woo Whooo. I can't wait for the next chapter. Thanks for sharing your wonderful story with us. I hope you have a fabulous evening. Take care and peace. T.

    1. Sometimes, we don't control our desires too well and get ourselves all hot and bothered. And then...well, have to take matters into our own hands!

  2. It's also cheaper than batteries. LOL. Take care and peace. T.

  3. I love that he's into mind games and not so much giving pain....I think I've said that before. It's unusual that he puts a different collar on her for each scene and doesn't just give her his "collar" to signify the relationship like I've read in other stories. There are so many differences here. A friend who lives this life told me, taught me, that each relationship is unique. That is something real that I've learned. I thought differently at first....loving the story, needless to say. I have Monday off work this week so I'll be reading this throughout the day...

    1. The mental fuckery is so much more fun! You're right about each relationship being whatever it needs to be, plus these two are at the early stages here and she's not collared (officially) by him. Hold that thought!

  4. Watchin' a man come by your actions is so fuckin' sexy! It's not always about gettin' pleasure, is it? Givin' it is hugely satisfyin'!