VANILLA WITH CHOCOLATE CHIPS
"So, Mr. IT Guy, what are your plans for Christmas?"
"My parents are expecting me for dinner tomorrow. I'll need to catch the 3:10 Acela to Philly."
"Is that where you grew up, then?"
"Yep, the suburbs. How about you?"
"Born and bred in New York City. Only left long enough to attend Yale."
"You mean, considering I was just going to end up working for Daddy?"
"No. I mean, I think you're brilliant, and I'm not surprised you went to Yale."
"There's a compliment I can't possibly deserve from you. I still can't believe how blind I've been for the past few weeks.
I push two plated turkey sandwiches across the kitchen counter. "How about a glass of wine?"
"Sure. Whatever's open is fine by me. I'm not picky."
I pour two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and sit down in the stool next to her. "Here's to something new and scary," I toast and she returns the gesture with a cautious smile. "And what's on your slate for Christmas?"
"We go to my folks out in the Hamptons for Christmas Eve and Jasper's-" She stops midsentence as if just figuring out that her plans for the holidays may have shifted just a bit for this year. "I guess I'll be at my parents' both nights this year."
I take her hand not holding the sandwich and give it a comforting squeeze. "I don't suppose you'd like to meet the people who spawned me tomorrow instead?"
"Well, that is quite an enticing invitation, Edward, but I think it's best I face the music."
"Isabella, why don't you spend Christmas Eve with your parents and then come back here on Sunday? My train gets back at 2:15. We could spend Christmas together." The idea suddenly thrills me.
"Now that sounds like a plan that might actually keep me going through the next twenty-four hours."
She stares forward, not really seeing anything in front of her, and I know she's replaying her break-up scene with Jasper and worrying about how to face the fallout.
"What can I do to help?" I ask, hoping she'll have some clue.
She turns off her inner DVR and turns to face me. "Just be everything I'm hoping you'll be."
That requires a kiss, and a good one at that. I reach my hand around the back of her neck and pull her lips to mine. Mixed in with our midnight snack, I taste cautious optimism. She's off her stool and standing in front of me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me closer, harder against her.
My hands slip under her cami, and for the first time, I feel the bare skin of her firm stomach. I tease her shirt up slowly, flicking my thumbs up her sides until I've reached the lace bra she chose. There's no question she wants this, and I break our kiss just long enough to pull the top over her head and admire her almost bare chest.
Taking her mouth again with mine, I unhook her bra and slide the straps down her shoulders. As her bra falls away, leaving her exposed to me for the second time tonight, I feel her hands travel up under my t-shirt, exploring my body for the very first time. I've been waiting for this for so long, waiting for her for so long, her first touch literally makes me dizzy. She tugs at the hem and I break our kiss again, raise my arms, and allow her to glide my shirt over my head and add it to the growing heap of clothes on the floor below us.
I stand and just simply admire her for a minute before pulling her chest to mine. Gasping and moaning drown each other out, and all we can hear is need in each other's voices. We're both starved for this, three weeks of foreplay and our tease of a first scene fueling our desperation. Her hands feel like they're everywhere all at once, but at the same time, every spot she's not touching burns for contact.
Every touch of his hands feels like a blessing. As if he elevates me simply by making contact. When he brushes over my nipples for the first time, I swear I can hear them cry out in joy. He's not gentle, and every pinch and scrape of the nail reminds me that I belong to him irrevocably, already, as if I ever stood a chance of resisting.
"Take off your pants," he demands, reaching to unbutton his own. His command thrills me, and by the time he's standing before me in his black boxer briefs, I've got nothing on but the matching lace panties to the bra he's already removed.
"I'll handle these," he informs, dipping both hands under the waistband around back and squeezing and kneading my ass cheeks. The direct contact of his hands on me makes me delirious with want, and I claw frantically at his back, unable to concentrate on anything other than the way his broad hands make me feel and where I want them next. Oh, he knows exactly what I need, and for the first time ever, I find that I don't have a running monologue in my head directing my partner what to do next. This one knows far better than I do where to touch, how to arouse, when to satisfy. I surrender deliciously to his ministrations and focus on pleasing him.
I tip my head down to take in his beautiful form, broad shoulders tapering down over finely sculpted chest and abdomen to a trim waist, and the centerpiece of it all, the tantalizing bulge that holds so much promise. Edward is working my ass with one hand and my tits with the other, and his cock is just begging to be touched. I reach out, over his briefs, and give an experimental squeeze. His eyes snap to mine and tell me I'm on the right track.
"Oh God, Isabella. I've been waiting for you for so long," he says, just before crashing his lips into mine again. His tongue is working against mine, taking, taking, taking. He wants everything, and I'd give him more if I could.
His expert fingers slip around to the front of my panties, dipping into my reservoir ever so gently. His first touch makes me giddy and multiplies my need by a factor of infinity. I'm shamelessly easy for him. He makes quick work of my panties, and I'm before him completely naked and dripping with desire.
Not able to wait a moment longer, I grasp his boxers on both sides and yank them down, releasing him from the last layer between us. And there it is. Finally.
I have to look; I've fantasized so long about what it must be. And once again, the reality of this man far exceeds fantasy. Proud and sturdy, perfectly proportioned, sizeable but not terrifying. I gasp when I first realize he's completely hairless, and my mouth literally waters for my first taste. Without even thinking, I slide to the floor and swallow him whole.
His hands land on my fancy updo as I kneel before my god, worshipping him the way I've dreamed of. While my mouth is busy, my hands explore curiously, desperate to memorize every inch of his body and make him mine.
"Ungh, that feels amazing," he says, and I soar with happiness. The burning desire to please this man has taken over every fiber of my being. As I bob and he thrusts to meet me, I feel like I'm finally where I was meant to be.
Gentle fingertips caress my chin, and strong arms pull me up to standing. Still disoriented by my lust, I can't understand why he's stopping me. "Why?"
"I want all of you…" he answers. "Bed. Now."
He grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall, into his bedroom, the room where we had our long conversation about all that we might be for each other. He throws the comforter onto the floor and tears back the top sheet. He turns to me and kisses me hard, leaving me breathless.
"I need you, Isabella. I've been needing you for so long now."
I can't even speak, so I answer by climbing up and waiting for him.
I regard Isabella, lying on my bed, on her back, waiting for me. She's breathtaking. We're both beyond ready.
I lift one knee onto the bed and crawl my way over her. Without touching her body, I lean down and give her another searing kiss. She wraps her hands behind my neck and holds me close, not that I'm looking for an escape route.
The strangest thing happens when she locks me in, a shift so profound that I swear I feel the bed tilt beneath us. If my kiss is a burning passion, hers is the sun itself. She's demanding something of me, right here, right now. Look into my eyes and see me, see what you mean to me.
I'm drawn in by a force I don't understand, but I have no desire to disobey. I dive headfirst into the bright light and accept her challenge. I'm here, I see you, and I am powerless in this, too.
Our kisses turn tender and I have to close my eyes to the torrent of emotions flooding me right now. I center myself at the point of our connection, the gentle feel of her open, willing mouth below mine. The warm invitation of her tongue, sharing her taste with me so eagerly. The soft hum of her contentment, the rolling purr of a kitten who's found her way home after a long scary journey. And suddenly, it all feels like too much, and I can't breathe.
I pull my lips off hers and turn my head to the side, panting for air. She finally relaxes her grip around my neck and allows her hands to slip to the sides of my face, thumbs caressing gently at my jaw lines.
"Wow?" she says, or was she asking?
"Definitely," I answer, nuzzling my nose against hers now that I can breathe again.
"Why do I feel like the rest of this is going to be anticlimactic?" she asks.
"Not likely, sweetheart," I promise, with a widening smile.
I didn't mean to issue him a challenge, but I can see he's taken it on with a vengeance. The ferocious intensity has returned to his eyes, and he starts his lips down my neck. His fingertips trail softly after, leaving feathery shivers in their wake.
With one hand cupped around my right breast and tickling around its crest, he seizes the opposite nipple between his teeth, clamping down with enough force to raise my hips right off the bed. "Ahhhhhh," I cry out at the opposite forces muddling my brain. Shivery caresses on one side; wet pinches on the other.
His face travels down my stomach, lapping at my skin and leaving cool patches where the air hits the moist traces left by his tongue. His hands tease up and down my sides, causing me to squirm.
"Ticklish?" he observes delightedly.
"Nope," I lie quickly.
"Oh really?" he challenges, lifting one arm over my head and pressing it into the bed. With his other hand, he teases a fingernail up my side and into my underarm, and I struggle to break loose, though I know I have no chance of escape. His devilish smile reveals he knows that every touch while he has me pinned is like adding gunpowder to my desire. My free arm flails uselessly until he tires of it and traps it with the other one in his hand. Now he's got both underarms to torture, and he mercilessly tickles both sides, alternating back and forth until I'm kicking around with my lower half and breathlessly begging him to stop.
He finally takes pity on me and releases my arms. "Well, that's going on the list, for sure. Have you written a tickling scene yet, Isabella?"
"No," I answer, hoping maybe he'll consider it off limits.
"Well," he says, tweaking my nipples, "judging from these…" and reaching down to swipe a finger through my wet slit, "…and this," he says, proffering the evidence of my arousal, "it seems to be somewhat of a hot spot for you. I'd get on that right away. I don't want to tell you how to write your story, but I'd probably play it out with your hands bound together over your head, and your ankles spread about two feet apart with a spreader bar…you could use that feather you're so fond of, but it would be way more fun with a leather riding crop. If you need some insight, we could-"
"I think I've got it, thanks," I stop him. Before he kills me completely dead.
"You know, every author has a muse. I'm just auditioning for the part."
"Well, I do suppose you can be…inspiring at times."
He slides lower on my legs and slips a finger right inside me without warning or preamble. Pulling it out slowly, he drags it up and down my opening, gliding it smoothly across the slick surface.
"Nnnggh," I moan, completely in his thrall. Please don't stop. Please don't stop.
"Feel good, baby?" he asks superfluously.
"Mmmm," I answer, in case it wasn't rhetorical.
With his other hand, he opens me, and just the mere act nearly brings me over the edge. Sensing my response, he says, "I think I could make you come just by holding you like this. Jesus, you are one sensitive instrument."
Only when played by the right maestro, Maestro.
I find my wits and tell him, "I'm starting to feel a little bit like a science experiment here. Do you mind?"
He reaches up and kisses me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I'm just having so much fun learning your body."
"It's okay, it all feels really good. I just thought this was the part where I get to be alone with Edward. I was kind of looking forward to getting to know what he's like as a lover."
Fuck. Me. Verbally. I perform a quick exorcism and rid myself of Black Velvet and the Dark Prince. I bring Edward, in full force, to bear on this situation. "I'm here, Isabella. No more games."
She smiles trustingly and I run my hands down her body gently, ending at her ankles. Without taking my eyes off hers for a second, I reach into my nightstand drawer and pull out a condom, rolling it on before kneeing my way back between her thighs.
"Thank you for coming home with me, Isabella," I say, grasping both her calves and lifting them onto my shoulders. I smooth my hands down her legs and fit myself into her opening. She lets out a low moan as I push forward. Her eyes roll back in her head with every thrust, and I brush softly across her mound while I fill her from the inside.
She grips me within her interior walls, and I get the sense of coming home. It's been so long since I've been myself in this moment. I've taken what I've wanted so many times, but this is different- this being asked to participate fully, as an equal partner. It's humbling and wildly fulfilling. I turn my face to the soft smooth skin behind her knee and place gentle kisses there, drinking her in gratefully.
Focusing back on Isabella's face through the haze of my unfamiliar feelings, I see her watching me intently, her gaze broken only by the brief rhythmic flicking of her eyes to the ceiling with each gnashing of our bodies. Her mouth falls open and she lets out a grunt each time, marking our shared meter. I join her, adding my own low rumble to the chorus. Her face is the very picture of desire, and my only regret is that I'm not able to reach her lips right now and swallow some of her need with my own.
Propelled by my body's long-denied desire and the overwhelming intensity of this joining, I feel the welcome building, and for once, I don't fight it off. I've been repressing my need for this woman for weeks now. One look at Isabella's growing delirium tells me she's just as ready as I am for the inevitable.
I skate my hand just above where we're connected, flattening my palm and all five fingers against her bare mound.
"Nnnn," she calls out, snapping her eyes to me in desperation. Regarding her carefully, I extend my thumb toward her opening and pass it over her, ever so lightly. Her muscles clench around me, pulling me in even further than before.
"Uunnh," I growl back, adding to the erotic soundtrack.
I pass my thumb again, and she twists to get more. Less is more, Isabella. Let me. I pull my hand off her and she pants in frustration. Ready or not…
I let loose a series of soft taps, with my entire hand, right where she's longing for friction. She squeals and squirms and screams out, "OHMYGOD! DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!"
Wouldn't dream of it, baby.
My head swims - MORE. I hear myself begging him not to stop. Oh God, don't stop, Edward. Please don't stop. All I can focus on is that tap, tap, tap and every breath of space in between is filled with one singular thought- AGAIN!
I'm a human balloon and he's pumping me with helium. My walls are stretching as he fills me to the brim, the membrane becoming thinner and thinner, and I'm going to pop any second. He slows his taps so that there's more space in between and that word-AGAIN- insinuates itself longer and stronger. He's clutching my leg tightly but still I can feel myself lifting for his touch, offering and opening myself for him.
The noises he adds only fuel my desire, and I can't begin to handle the lusty expression on his face right now. I lock my eyes closed and pray for his touch. "Ahhh….ahhhh…ahhh…ahhh..."
He moans long and low and pushes inside me with a soft, "Oh fuuuuck!" and his fingers touch down on me and oh, Merciful Lord above, they stay this time.
"THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!" I shout, as he brings me over the moon and I soar past every star in the galaxy.
His stilled hand feels warm and comforting as my body works its way through all the sweet aftershocks. I feel lips and the gentle contact of his smooth cheek against my leg. I pry open my eyes to the glorious vision of Edward softly nuzzling my thigh, eyes closed, mouth taking random kisses along my leg, thumb rubbing soft circles.
Another slice of Edward Cullen to add to my growing collection. Every discovery makes me long to experience more of this enigmatic man.
"Mmmmm," he hums. A heavy, contented sigh follows, at the end of which he opens his eyes to mine. A broad smile opens across his face.
"So…that was Edward?"
He chuckles softly, backing out of me and tying off his condom. "It was tonight," he finally answers, as if still trying to puzzle it out for himself.
For the first time, he looks almost insecure and in need of reassurance. I crook my finger, inviting him up my body. He sets my legs down gingerly and slides himself up my torso, until his chest rests on mine. His hands hook under my arms and wrap around behind my head. His eyes flash into mine briefly before he covers my mouth with his. l close my arms around his back and draw random circles on his satiny skin. When we've had our fill of kisses, he drops his head into the crook of my neck and rolls to his side, flopping one arm across my chest, the very picture of relaxation.
After a long contented silence, a happy sigh escapes me, and I ask, "With vanilla like that, who needs to be dominated?"
His laughter starts out as a low rumble, but soon the bed is shaking. "You do, princess."