Friday, June 1, 2012

52 UNPACKED

~Chapter 52~
UNPACKED

HE
Thankfully, we don’t have to wait long for a cab. Neither of us has much patience left. I settle us both into the back, give the driver the address, and slip my arm around Isabella’s exhausted shoulders, pulling her against my body. She lets out a long, weary sigh and drops her right hand into my lap.

“God, Edward, I am so sorry. I never noticed what an asshole Garrett could be.”

“He probably never showed that part of himself to you before. It’s not like he would’ve treated his best friend that way.”

“It’s just so crazy. Jasper and I are fine, but Garrett…and Alice…are holding on to these grudges. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Sweetheart, you know this isn’t your issue anymore. They might think they’re doing this for Jasper, but they’re stuck in their own quicksand.”

Her mouth twists into a sudden toothy grin. “Angela was practically incoherent in your presence.”

“Well, sure, when you’re used to living with Clark Kent—”

“Clark Kent?” she giggles. “Is that how you think of Garrett?”

“Oops, did I just say that out loud?”

Her laughter fades and she gets wistful again. “I guess Angela and I are officially relegated to ladies’ lunches and the occasional girls’ night out at this point.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s just one more thing you’re giving up.” Shit. This gathering with old friends was supposed to have the opposite effect, not leave her mourning yet another loss.

“It’s not that I’ll miss Garrett per se, but it is nice to double date once in a while. I don’t know where we’re gonna find another couple who wants to be with us.”

I chuckle out loud at the first thought that pops into my head. “There’s always our folks.”

“Ha! And Riley, I suppose? Think he can bear to see you happy with someone else?”

“Of course he can. It makes him insanely pleased, in fact.”

“Well, good. Because otherwise, we may as well chuck it all and move to some deserted island just the two of us would inhabit.”

I throw my head back along the seat and close my eyes, imagining us on Gilligan’s Island. “God that sounds great right now. Warm sun, soft sand, you spread naked and lashed between two palm trees…”

She joins me in the fantasy. “You in a loin cloth, hunting and fishing for our food, while I sunbathe and send chapters of porn to the mainland in tiny bottles…”

If I were to fall asleep right now, I’m sure I would have a very, very nice dream. She turns her face into my shoulder and sighs deeply. “Thank you for being an amazing boyfriend.”

“Hey. You’d have done the same for me, I mean, if you could carry really heavy boxes…and if I made you sit through an excruciating dinner with an ex-girlfriend’s bff.”

“Seriously, I owe you big time for tonight. All of it.”

“Okay, you owe me. Why don’t you start working off your debt right now?”

She tips her head up in the dark cab. “What do you want?” she asks, and I feel the shift in her tone.

“This.”  I skim my fingers through her hair and grasp the back of her neck in my hand. Closing my lips over hers, I pour my support and affection into the kiss. She opens to me in perfect trust and our tongues meet gently where they both rest. It’s not hurried or leading to anything else. Just a kiss for the sake of a kiss.

Her expressive eyes are filled with such gratitude, they shine back at me in the dim lighting. I leave a soft kiss over each eye and tuck her head under my chin, nuzzling her protectively into my neck. Soon, I feel soft breathy bursts inside my shirt collar and I realize she’s giggling.

“What?” I ask, already smiling.

“You could’ve held out for a whole lot more than that. I’m feeling super grateful right now.”


she
Edward tries not to roll his eyes while I pay for the cab. I would give anything to be able to climb into my boyfriend’s shirt pocket right now and just be whisked upstairs. I do the next best thing and attach myself to his side. I close my eyes and let him lead the way while I fantasize about cushy pillows and warm blankets and if I’m honest, being lashed between two palm trees. My bubble of serenity bursts when he opens the door to his apartment, revealing the three boxes I’d nearly forgotten about. I tip my wrist to check the time; it’s nearly ten.

“How about we deal with those tomorrow?” he suggests, continuing to drag me toward the back hall.  It sounds like a reasonable idea, except that…well, that would mean another day of dealing with it.

“You know what? I think I’d really like to get this over with tonight. You’ve done more than enough. I can take it from here.”

He looks from me to the boxes, which are thankfully laid out next to each other and not stacked. I can just leave them here and drag the innards in manageable chunks to my room.

“You’re really going to do all of this tonight?”

“Yeah. I think I’m getting my second wind.” I hope I sound convincing. I really don’t want him to feel obligated. This is my shit to deal with.

“I’m gonna go take care of a few things I need to do tonight and then I’ll check on you. Okay?”

“Fair enough.”

I don’t want to think any more, I just want this done. Slicing open the first carton, I reveal carefully folded and efficiently-packed clothes. Pants, sweaters and tops. Shoes tucked in around the sides. Oh great, another couple pairs of spiky heels for Master to request. Gathering an armful of items, I march back to my room and find a home for each piece. It’s probably the least efficient mode of transferring everything to my room, but with dogged persistence, I make trip after trip until finally, mercifully, box number one is empty.

Deep breath. Two to go. 10:20. I can do this.

The second carton contains my lightweight clothing, again perfectly arranged for minimal wrinkling and maximal efficiency. As I scoop the first armful, I get a visual of Jasper pulling my clothes item by item from the bureau and the closet, folding each one and setting it inside. But something about the imagery is nagging at me, and it’s not till I’m on my third load of shorts and bathing suits that it strikes me. Jasper’s not this good at packing. He tries, and God love him, nobody is more earnest than Jas, but he could never quite get the hang of pinching the shoulders and corralling the sleeves. Nope, this is not his work.

Alice did the deed. Yet another reason for her to resent me. I can’t picture her touching my things without imagining a bit of a smug smirk with each piece of me she was able to expunge from Jasper’s life.

With a loud sigh, I dig out the final random bras and panties from the second box. Tucking my head in determination, I turn back toward my room, barreling full-on into Edward.

“Ahh!” he retracts the bare foot I’ve just trampled with my boot, while steadying me with a hand on each of my forearms.

I let out a loud, “Oof!” as my head rams into his chest. My precarious load is now mostly scattered all around us.

“Y’okay?” he asks, bending to gather the dropped lingerie. “Oh! I see I got here just in time,” he says lasciviously.

I have to giggle at his enthusiasm for the task. He looks like a guy who’s been stuck in the husband chair at Victoria Secret for the last hour and has finally been invited back to the fitting room. He holds up each piece individually to get the full effect.

I hold out my arms so he can pile everything back on top. “Nuh uh,” he insists. “I want to make sure these get to their destination unharmed.”

And with a couple goofy comments, he’s completely erased the drudgery of my chore.

HE
She slices open the tape holding the final box closed and looks a bit deflated when she notes the contents. Books, CD’s, DVD’s, pictures, file folders, knick knacks…pieces of her life she hasn’t considered in weeks. Unless she’s done so privately.

I insist on helping her, even though she rejects my offer to carry the box to her room. We both work quickly, and after one load each, I convince her to stay in her room and organize everything while I carry and make piles on the second bed. By the time I empty the box, there’s a huge stack on the bed and she’s gotten very little put away. She keeps getting stuck.

“Sweetheart,” I wrap my arms around her waist from behind as she looks over a picture of herself and Jasper. “You sure you don’t want to get some rest?”

She turns halfway but her eyes don’t leave the photo. “I’m sure. Thanks, Edward. I can finish.”

I scoot around in front of her, still holding her waist. “Do you want to finish alone?”

She looks up with pain rimming her eyes. “You’ve done so much already…and, I just…I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re only hurting me because you hurt. What can I do to make this easier?”

She turns and takes a good, long look at the bed. “I don’t know, maybe stack the DVD’s and music over here on this shelf?”

“You know, you don’t have to bury all this stuff in your room. I can put these out in the living room with mine.”

She looks up at me with wonder. Suddenly, her tears start to fall and she collapses into my arms. “Why does that make me… so happy?”

I hold her tightly and rock her gently, my cheek pressed against her hair. When she finally pulls away, I offer, “Okay, I’m gonna take books, music and movies out to the main area. Sorry, but no pictures of Mr. VP in the family room.”

She nods her head and sniffles.

“Okay. Finish up in here so I can put you to bed. I am so done with this day.” Again, I carry armful after armful within feet of the empty box where everything started.

“Don’t start with me,” I say to the mocking box. “I was being a good boyfriend.”

There’s ample room for her things on my shelving, and pretty soon, DVD’s, CD’s and books are all intermingled with mine. Well, they’re actually just cohabitating at this point. Happy enough with the situation, I return to her room. I’m thrilled to note that her bed is empty, and she’s just placing the last picture on the shelf.

Wait a second, that’s the only picture on any shelf. “Where did you put everything?”

“In here.” She pats the front of the top drawer. “Face down.” Her voice is neither morose nor emotional. She seems to have found a satisfactory way to tuck away her past. At least for now. I step closer to the picture she chose to display. It’s a playful frame, colorful blue waves licking at the photo. I pick it up to get a closer view of this threesome. My eyes immediately move to a young Isabella I’d judge to be around eleven or twelve, definitely pre-pubescent, but still striking.

Long, wispy strands of brown hair unselfconsciously flying around a sun-kissed face. Dark, innocent eyes, unmarred by pain, worry, or fear, squinting slightly into the sun behind the photographer. Adorable smattering of tiny freckles over the bridge of her delicate nose. Wide toothy grin, bowed pink lips, flawless skin.

A tiny string bikini is tied around a body poised to burst into womanhood, but yet very much a little girl’s. Not a hint of a curve under the color-splashed triangles covering her chest. So flat, in fact, that the tiny nipples sit up like a pair of raisins glued to a paper plate.
Delicate knees that don’t seem up to the task of bearing weight or providing balance sit halfway down thin, willowy legs. Taken as whole, a breathtaking vision of perfection in the moment and unrestrained potential for the future.

she
“This was a perfect day out on the water. Look at my parents’ faces. So relaxed and happy.”

He pulls me close against his side. “I’m still stuck on the girl in the middle.”

“Pretty gawky, huh?”

“That’s not what I was thinking at all. You remind me of a wild bay filly about to burst into a gallop, mane flying, hooves pounding…”

I turn from the picture to Edward’s face. He seems a bit dazzled and not one bit the lovable rascal I’m so used to seeing. Just to be sure, though…

“Am I wearing a harness and saddle in this visual?”

He chuckles. “That’s really gross, Isabella. You’re just a young girl.”

Turning his head toward me, he takes in my expression, which must reflect the appreciative swell of my heart.

“You keep this up, Edward Cullen, and you’re going to get lucky tonight.”

“Already am,” he says simply, turning me in his arms and pressing his lips to mine.

“Could we please go to bed already?” I whisper into his face between kisses.

I feel his lips turn up against mine. “Twist my arm.”

“Meet you in bed?”

He covers my lips again, sealing us together in a long, languorous kiss. “Please don’t take too long.”

As if.

I skid into the room fewer than ten seconds after him, stripped down to a cami and bikini bottoms I couldn’t take the time to remove. One arm is hidden behind my back as I walk toward the bed.

He folds his arms behind his head. “Whatcha got there?” he asks, playful grin on his face.

“Would it be okay with you,” I start slowly, drawing a knee up onto the corner of the bed, “…if I left this”—I reveal my toothbrush—“in your bathroom?” I bring my second knee up and sit back on my heels.

“Are you kidding?” Even in the dim light, I can see his smile broaden.

“So that’s a yes then?”

“Yes, Isabella,” he answers. “Move anything you want in here. Move everything in here, for that matter. Leave your razor in the shower, or use mine for all I care! Litter the bathroom counter with eyelash curlers and nail polish remover. Hang your panties on the shower rod. Leave your dentures on the nightstand!”

I peel off my underwear, amid gales of laughter. “I see you’re quite passionate on this topic.”

“I just want you to feel at home.”

I crawl up the length of his body and set my toothbrush down on the nightstand. Sliding under the covers, I arrange myself on top of him, straddling his waist with my knees and dropping my chest onto Edward’s. My face meets the base of his neck, and I breathe in his comforting scent.  Edward’s chest rises and falls beneath me as his arms close around my back, locking me securely against his body.

“Mmmmm.” True contentment washes over me for the first time all day. “This right here…this is my home.”


HE
My mom always used to say a new place isn’t home until you return there from somewhere else. It seems to me that Isabella has just returned home. I intend to do everything in my power to continue to make her feel that this is where she belongs.

With me.

On me.

Around me.

Under me.

With every preposition comes a visual of past sexual escapades. And that’s certainly all well and good, but that’s not what we both need tonight.

I scratch lightly along the length of her back. Isabella melts into my body like butter on a hot skillet, rocking gently and humming softly. Her breathing slows and her range of motion narrows almost to a halt.

I hope she’s on our deserted island drinking from a hollowed out coconut shell.

I tip gently to one side to slide her to the bed without waking her. “Ride’s over?” she mumbles, startling me.

“Sorry, babe,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” she giggles, rolling onto her back and pulling me onto her. I push onto my elbows so I don’t crush her. My hands rest on the pillow beside her face, my fingers curled and rubbing aimlessly along her temples.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I challenge.

“Was I snoring?” she asks.

“No.”

“Well there you have it,” her white teeth gleam in the darkened room. “Or do I not snore?”

“You win, Perry Mason. You’re awake.” Damn she’s entertaining, at all hours of the night.

“Edward.”

I steel myself for the next conundrum she might throw my way. What will it be this time?

“Yeah?”

Her dark eyes blink once. Twice.

“Make love to me.”

The brass ring.

She brings her hands to my chin, cupping it tenderly, then closes her eyes. As if by blocking out her sense of vision, she will feel more deeply with the others. I take my time admiring her beautiful expression of serenity and anticipation before closing my own eyes.

My lips kiss a trail from her forehead to her mouth. Her soft lips taste even sweeter this time as her words repeat in my head.

Make love to me.

With every gesture, every press of my lips against hers, every twining of our tongues, I strive to transmit that emotion from my body to hers. It’s nearly overwhelming.

Make love to me.

she
His pained whimper draws my eyes open to the sight of brows scrunched with supreme effort.  If I had an ounce of talent with a paint brush, I would cover a canvas with the expression Edward is wearing right now.

Every single time with Edward has been something outrageously unique and unexpected. But this?

If Edward saw in my pre-teen picture a restrained filly, I look at him now and see that Marvel superhero at the peak of his potency, yet at the same time, perfectly self-possessed.

Supported over me by powerful arms, his fingertips play gently through my hair. Solid torso half again my body mass, enclosed within soft, smooth skin that whispers against my own. Muscular, athletic thighs and calves blanketing my own, his feet pivoting reflexively at the ankles, anchoring mine.

Proud, sturdy cock at the ready, yielding the right of way—for now, at least—to supple lips and a gentle tongue.

My fingers find their way into his hair, ten more opportunities to convey the sentiment back to him.

I’m making love to you, too.

After a forever of kissing, Edward moves off, trailing soft nibbles along my jaw, below my ear, down the column of my neck. He lifts his head and raises half-lidded heavy eyes.  He rarely looks so serious. It causes my breath to catch.

He shifts down my body and swirls his tongue around one nipple before pulling the whole thing into his mouth. He groans, and it’s then I realize I’ve been digging my nails into his scalp. I loosen my grip and drop my hands to my sides while he continues to lavish his loving attention first on one side, then the other. His hands taunt my hips, thumbs tracing wide arcs while his tongue and lips bathe me in warmth.

The blankets fall away as Edward scoots further down my body, tonguing my belly button, causing me to squirm. He coils between my legs and situates his face over my bare pussy. I close my eyes against the unbearable torture of his tongue trailing up and down my slit, lapping my juices and leaving me even wetter.  His hands brush the inside of my thighs and spread me open. Air cools my slick opening before Edward warms me again with his mouth.

He doesn’t hold me back from raising myself greedily to his face, and he doesn’t slow me down when I near my peak. He merely lightens the pressure with his tongue so that I can barely feel him against my clit. My body is a giant wave nearing the shore. Warm puffs of air accompany sweet caresses, neither teasing nor too much, but just exactly what I need. My body lifts to the crest and I sing out my pleasure for him.

Reality fades back in, ushered by soft kisses and a trace of finger along the crease of my leg. I gaze down in the dark to find him, but can only make out the chaos of his hair.  I almost feel as if I’d be intruding to interrupt. I rest my head on the pillow, wondering to myself how I might put words together to describe the sense of being both entirely satisfied and utterly desperate for more.

I suppose that would sum up life with Edward Cullen.

My Master, my prince, my superhero.


HE
Make love to me.

Is her command any different than Master ordering Isabella to worship him? Here I am on bent knee offering my devotion and my gifts at her altar. It feels like the exact worship I demanded.

But is this one-way transaction making love? I’m sure the religious leaders of my upbringing would argue that the Object of our worship loves us back. Though reciprocal, the relationship could never be anything close to equal. So no, I decide, worship isn’t the same as love.

What. The. Fuck??

Dude, are you seriously having the most intense theological musings of your life with a vagina? While the beautiful girl you love is stretched out naked waiting for you?

Dropping one last kiss onto her soft skin, I unfurl myself and crawl up to find Isabella blinking up at the ceiling. Her gaze snaps to me as I tuck a few loose hairs behind her ear. She looks contemplative as well.

“Hey,” I say softly, because ‘Do you feel well loved?’ doesn’t seem entirely okay. Especially since I’m not nearly finished with her.

Whatever she was thinking about seems to be resolved when she looks into my eyes, and her mouth lifts at the corners. “Hey.”

Her hands settle at my upper arms, where I feel her familiar squeeze. It always makes me smile.

“Oh good,” she says, smiling in return. “You were getting a little serious on me.”

I chuckle softly. “Making love is very serious business, Isabella.”

Her smile disappears and she pulls my neck down so that my lips are on top of hers. She takes the lead this time, forcing me open and owning every part of me. Her hand is anchored to my neck and her fingers twirl in my hair, binding us together. She’s making me crazy with her moans and nips and demanding tongue.

Where I was idly resting along her legs, she opens her knees wide and encircles me. Her hips press into mine, her body seconding the request she’s already made.

Make love to me.

Snaking one arm under her shoulders and the other down to guide myself inside her, I press my chest against her the way she likes it, smothering her with the full heft of my body. She breaks our kiss to draw a gulp of air, nestling her chin into the crook of my neck. Both hands play along my back, tickling, scratching, egging me along.

Dropping one knee, I run my tip along her folds.  She opens and leads me inside, gripping me with her inner walls until I am fully seated. My journey is accompanied by a long, low groan on my part and a series of staccato grunts on hers.

Make love to me.

I stroke her again and again, sliding within the tight passage, tapping that place deep within her as she clamps around me, pulling me in, squeezing me, pleasuring me back. I feel her ankles close around my back as she rocks against me, grinding her ass against me with each of my deep thrusts.  

“Nnnn, nnnn, nnnn…” Her rhythmic outbursts match our shared motions.

I draw my free hand along the side of her breast, the only sliver I can access, throwing off the pattern of her vocalizations. She feels so damn good around me and under me, soft and yielding while demanding and vigorous. My head is growing fuzzy, my mental vocabulary reducing itself to a single phrase.

Make love to me.

I want every inch of her to feel it.

Make love to me.

She slips into soft panting breaths.

Make love to me.

“Isabella…”

“Nnn”… breath…”nnnn…”

“Isabella...”

“Nnn”… breath…”nnnn…”

“I love you.”

“Ahhh”… breath… “mmmmmmmm”

Ahhhnnnnnggggghhhhhh!”

she
The emotional high of Edward’s declaration flutters to rest atop my last orgasm like a maraschino cherry tossed into a cloud of whipped cream on top of a hot fudge sundae. For all intents and purposes, we’ve already made our Great Big Declarations, but what a difference his mid-coital admission is from the matter-of-fact statements couched in kinda’s made in the back seat of the limo in broad daylight.

I suppose if one were keeping track of such statistics, I’d be forced to admit that I instigated this one as well. Though my request was not meant to be an outright demand for Edward’s proclamation, or even one on my own part, it was nonetheless a definite mood setter. And while I wasn’t even dreaming of drawing such intensity from Edward, I can’t say I’m even the tiniest bit sorry.

Truth is, I was simply stating what I needed from my partner, perhaps embodying that element of my submissive’s oath whereby I’m bound to share my needs with my Master. And what I needed from my partner just now, physically, is exactly the same thing I’ve needed from my partner all evening. And what he has so competently delivered without needing any prompting from me.

For him to support me. Get me through this transition. Be more than my sexual partner, my roommate, my friend. To be my lover.

He twitches inside me and I clench tightly, holding him in place.

Edward seems spent in every way. The only evidence he’s even conscious is the random fluttering of his curled fingers along the side of my breast. And the soft rise and fall of his back, along with the accompanying wisps of air at my neck. My heart swells again with the enormous gratitude and affection I feel for him.

I marvel at our intimacy, that I could ask such an outrageous thing, when asking for what I needed was always impossible.

His fingers pause momentarily as my voice crackles around the words. “I love you, too, Edward.”

With a graceful shift that thankfully leaves him inside me, Edward rolls his top half to the side, leaving his hand more freedom to play at my breasts. The other arm is trapped beneath me, his hand at my opposite shoulder, rubbing light, absent circles.

He nudges at my nearer breast with his nose and chin, settling into my body as if it were his pillow.

“Mmmmm,” he hums, and I feel his lips curl up into a smile against my skin.

“What are you thinking about?” I whisper, hoping it’s not something football-related to totally burst my bubble.

“Our hammock.”


Perfect
.


4 comments:

  1. I cannot even begin to tell you what this chapter did to me. Your writing was so unbelievably brilliant and beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes. The feelings that you evoke from your writing is mesmorizing! The way you describe their love and devotion for one another is unsurmountable and truly awe inspiring. I feel honored to be able to read such talent. Thank you!

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    Replies
    1. *blushes wildly* I'm so happy you enjoyed the chapter. These two are such a pleasure for me to write, and even more so to have in my head. I'm so pleased they have the same effect on you as a reader. Thank you so much.
      xx

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  2. What a breathtakingly beautiful chapter! After such a horrible experience with her friends, then the stop to remove the last of her from Jasper's place, to finally return home together and mingle her belongings even more deeply in their home, the epitome of mingling that is making love just brought everything to a very satisfying and appropriate crescendo. This is very moving and tender. They have everything together....

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