“Oh, honey, that’s just not fair,” I complain half-heartedly. Here I’ve come across the hall to be sociable, wish my girl good morning, and she’s bent over her desk chair from behind, no doubt a position she hadn’t planned on getting stuck in for more than a key strike or two.
She startles at the intrusion, but I press myself up against her bent over naked body and reach my arm around her chest for added support and a quick fondle before getting into the shower.
“Shit, Edward, you scared the crap out of me!” she accuses harshly, but her body betrays her. She drapes her top half over the chair and pushes back against me, an offering I am reluctant to refuse.
I run my palms up her back and massage her shoulders and she melts and moans and we’re in big trouble now.
“Do you have to go in early today?” I ask gruffly.
Hope springs; she hasn’t said no.
“Make it quick,” she answers finally, spreading her legs and lifting her ass.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I chuckle deeply, spreading her open with one hand and guiding myself inside my perfect girlfriend with the other.
Isabella’s groans are muffled by her folded arms but I can feel the rumble in her abdomen while my hand glides into her slippery folds.
“Do you have any idea… what you do to me… when you’re not… even… trying, Isabella?” I gut out, picturing her naked form innocently bowed over the chair before I burst in and interrupted her.
“Faster!” she orders, delivering the command by lifting her head to the side. Seems I’ve caught a touch of Corporate Isabella this morning, and I happily pick up my pace to suit her needs.
Grasping a handful of hips and ass in each hand, I pull her roughly to me again and again, reveling in the slapping noise we produce together each time flesh slams into flesh. Our loud grunts and moans swirl together with the raw sounds of suction and friction. The bright daylight masks nothing—not the arch of her back, not the sheen on my cock from her sodden pussy, and not the bounce and sway of her tits against the back of the chair she hugs, fighting to hold her balance.
“Here we go, baby!” I call out, grinding wildly as I bury myself over and over. Two more strokes, one more…then…I pinch my eyes together so tightly I see stars. My heartbeat and my breathing cease and I pull her to me and lock us together in place, at once each other’s launch pad and each other’s anchor.
If her squealing and panting hadn't exposed her orgasm, the repeated clenching of her muscles around me would've told the story on their own. I lean over her, careful not to press her painfully against the chair, wrap my arms under her and drop a kiss on her shoulder blade. “Good morning, Sunshine.”
She chortles and closes her arms over mine, squeezing me tightly. “Not a bad way to start the day.”
“I think we should start every day that way.”
“Good Lord, Edward. You’re turning me into a sex addict.”
I smack her lightly on the ass. “What’s wrong with that? It’s not as if I can’t satisfy your needs. Besides, it’s a natural high.”
“Speaking of needs…and sex…”
“MORE? Already? You vixen!”
Isabella giggles, “I sent my journal entry to Marcus just now.”
“Good. I’m sure he’ll have some interesting feedback for you.”
Her face lights up. “Really?”
“Sure. I’d like to read that entry, too. Have you posted it yet?”
“I was just about to when I was so…” She looks down at my depleted cock and concludes, “Delightfully interrupted.”
“You’re welcome. Why don’t you go ahead and post and hop in the shower. I’ll just sit here and read if it’s okay with you.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “You better not be sitting here all naked when I get out of the shower.”
“That is so cute. You’re worried you won’t be able to control yourself?”
“No. I’m worried you won’t.”
“Touché, my sweet little sex addict.”
WORDS/Journal Entry Ten
January 22, 2012
Master's assignment: Why did you choose the wrong language?
“May I please go to the toilet?”
Even sitting here alone in my office—yes, that’s how I think of it now—I can’t say the words aloud without a chill. This is not how we’re taught in kindergarten to make the request, not how we say it as adults in polite company. No offense, Master, but you are nobody’s idea of polite company! I’m sure your friend M would confirm that (and hello, Sir!). I suppose when it comes right down to it, I’m not polite company either, considering that deep within me, I have this need to be your rag doll or sex slave or pet or some such depravity. And still the good girl in me persists in holding on to that last shred of dignity.
Dignity—could that be the submissive’s worst enemy? Is dignity, then, the opposite of humility, or can the two coexist peacefully? Is there not dignity—pride, even—in my submission to you, Master? Do I not deserve to feel pride in my service to you, my quest for perfect trust in you?
I understand, Master. The more of myself I give over to you, the more deeply I submit, the stronger is our bond. It’s not my need to serve you that is wrong; it is the reflex, born of a false need for self-preservation, to hold part of myself back that is toxic to our mutual trust.
Please, Master, help me shed my defenses so I can serve you with my fullest heart and soul, as you deserve and as I truly desire.
As I pull on my nylons, I picture Edward sitting in this very chair reading my plea. Once again, I’m able to express as princess what I know Isabella wants. It’s been a while since I’ve consciously conversed with my inner prude, but she seems to want to chat this morning.
Now, you’ve done it, Bella, she chides. Oops, she sounds pissed.
I want this. All the way. No more fighting to hold on to pieces of myself.
Be careful what you wish for.
I tuck away her warning and give myself a final once-over in the mirror before joining my boyfriend at the door.
Edward doesn’t say a word as he reaches for my shoe bag and pulls me in for a gentle kiss. Nonetheless, his thoughts register as perfectly as if he’d typed out a response. Yes, princess, I promise. I will devote myself to peeling away every last layer that keeps you from perfect submission and trust. I have a sudden, overpowering desire to shrink myself down to three inches and jump into his shirt pocket. On second thought, maybe one of his pants pockets would be more fun.
As soon as we’re both through the revolving door, he grasps my gloved hand and holds me closer than usual as we make our way to the office. Gradually, the realities of Monday morning seep in.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you—Dad says I’m in line for VP.”
“What?!” Edward stops dead on the sidewalk next to me and twists us so we’re facing each other. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!”
His enthusiasm is infectious and soon I’m giggling. “I guess I took you off guard there?”
“Um…yeah! I’m assuming you’ve known since your lunch on Friday? And you’re telling me this now?”
I shrug. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”
Edward laughs. “You are something else, Isabella. So what did he say exactly?”
We’re walking again. “Just that they’ve been watching me for a while and Warwick was a big fish to land, yada, yada.”
“Think they’ve been watching you longer than I have?” He leers at me and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Yes. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“Nupe. You know all my secrets, Isabella. My obsession began the day I caught you porn-surfing. I’m dating a VP-elect. Wow, my mother is gonna love this,” he muses, smiling and shaking his head side to side.
“Morning, Alice. Great to have you in the group today.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Jasper told me what a great seminar you ran for the guys last week. I’m hoping to be dazzled.”
“Dazzled, huh?” I huff. “Well, I’ll do my best, Alice, but frankly, I’m expecting you’ll be right at the head of this class and most other groups they’re putting together around the company. I didn’t want to say anything just yet, but…”
“Oh, come on!” She punches me in the arm with her tiny fist. “You can’t leave me hanging like that!”
I resist the urge to rub my arm where she hit me. “Okay, fine. I’m putting together a plan where the company would be divided into pods, and I’m going to suggest pod leaders, and you’re a slam dunk for the part. If you’re interested, that is.”
“If I’m interested? This is awesome.” I swerve out of the way of her fist this time. “Oh, wait. I wouldn’t have to give up my gig with Charlie, would I? I love working for him.”
“Not at all. I’m sure you can handle both. Besides, he’s been extremely supportive of the Tech Outreach concept.”
She smirks. “Of course he is. Do you ever not get your way, Edward Cullen?”
“Hmm, let me think…nope!”
She lifts her tiny fist for a third time and I catch it mid-air. “Better take your seat; I’m about to start.”
“Thanks, Edward. I appreciate your faith in me.”
I give her a wink as she slides into her chair. Alice proves herself to a competent leader during the session, helping everyone around her every time we break for exercises. After the class, she approaches me while I’m packing up.
"Nice seminar, Edward."
“So, were you hopelessly bored?”
“I knew probably ninety percent of what you were teaching, but you managed to dazzle me with that extra ten percent.”
“’Zat right? Well, good.”
“Thanks again, Edward. I look forward to hearing more about how I can help.”
“I’ll let you know. See you tomorrow, Alice.”
“Yep. Say hi to Bella for me.”
There’s no sarcasm in her voice or in her expression. “Thanks, Alice. Will do. Same to Jasper.”
The little love fest over for now, I check my phone to see if Isabella is ready to go home.
E-I’m having a major carbo craving! Italian okay?
Always. Lobby in 10?
“I called Salvatore’s and they’re holding a table for us. Domenic is waiting outside,” she informs me as I cross the lobby.
“Look at you go. Are you going to order for me, too?” I grin.
“I could. Have you ever had their chicken saltimbocca?”
“No, I’ve never eaten there. What does ‘saltimbocca’ mean?”
She smiles. “Literally, it means ‘jumps into your mouth.’ You’re in for a treat.”
“Can’t wait, sweetheart.” I love that she’s confident in her decisions and putting herself out there for me. After all her deep soul-searching about losing herself, it’s nice that she has no trouble taking the lead on our night off.
I kiss her and walk her out to the waiting car.
“Hey, hey, hello strangers,” Domenic says, extending a hand and a broad grin.
“Domenic, how ya been?”
“Real good, buddy. How about you, Edward?”
“Excellent, now that my girl is back.”
He shakes my hand heartily and looks over at Isabella. “I can certainly understand that. And how about you, Bella?”
My eyes pop out of my head at the familiarity. Isabella takes it in stride, even giggling a bit. “Happy to be back, Domenic. And great to see you.”
“Well, come on, you two. It’s cold out here. Let’s get you to the restaurant.”
“We’re going to split a Caesar salad,” I tell the waiter, then I remember my bottomless pit of a boyfriend. “Is that enough for you, or do you want your own?”
“I’m okay splitting green things,” he answers. “Carry on. You’re doing great.”
Our server is one of those career waiters, probably Salvatore the fourth or something, and his gaze shifts back to me. “And for your entrée, Miss?”
“I’ll have the linguini with clams in white sauce, he’ll have the chicken saltimbocca, and we’ll take a bottle of the Folonari Pinot Grigio. Anything else?” I ask Edward, surrendering my menu.
“How about some of that bruschetta with four kinds of cheese?”
“Very good, sir,” the waiter says, dotting his pencil against the pad and snapping up Edward’s menu before I change his mind.
Edward is grinning ear to ear.
I’m already smiling as I ask, “Excited about the garlic bread, are you?”
“I don’t usually like take-charge women, but I have to say, Isabella…” He shakes his head and smiles as he lifts his water glass.
“You have to say…?”
“It’s hot,” he says simply, drawing the glass to his lips.
“You do realize you’re completely ridiculous, right?”
“Indeed. Oh, by the way, Alice says hello.”
“Oh. Were you up with Dad again?”
“No. I have all their assistants this week. Alice is a bit of a superstar.”
“Yeah. I always knew I had it made.”
“Jessica seems all right.”
“I can’t complain, but she’s no Alice.”
“So, you and Domenic…?” He trails off, leaving the question unspoken.
Edward smiles. “Okay. Got any other men in your life I need to know about?”
“As a matter of fact, I heard back from Marcus.”
Just then, the server delivers a piece of warm focaccia on each of our bread plates and offers me the wine label to review. I give the okay and sit back while he uncorks the bottle. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Edward squirm in his seat like a little boy who’s been in church too long. I take my time swirling and tasting, drawing out the ritual, and when the wine is finally poured and the waiter gone, I pause to make a toast—just to stretch out the torture a bit more. “To the men in my life.”
Edward leans in and clinks his glass to mine. “You’re killing me here, baby.”
I take a deliberate sip of my wine and Edward pretends to be patient, but he’s nothing like patient.
“In all honesty, Edward, I really need to understand how you want me to proceed with Marcus. I don’t want to overstep. I assume that if you needed to be part of our conversation, he would’ve copied you on his email?”
Edward turns the base of his wine goblet into a spirograph gear, gazing intently while the contents swirl round and round. “I don’t need to be part of your conversation.” He looks up at me thoughtfully. “In fact, I’d like you to consider asking Marcus to be your mentor.”
“What?” A wild jolt of excitement spikes through me at the very thought. I have no real concept of how the mentor relationship works, but the idea of being around Marcus, of drawing on his wisdom and experience, knowing how well he knows my Master and how much respect there is between the two men, is beyond compelling. “Isn’t that a conflict, though?”
“Not with someone as skilled as Marcus. It could actually be a big advantage for him to know both sides of our relationship.”
“So what kinds of things would I share with him?”
Edward shrugs, unconcerned. “Whatever you want. It’s your nickel.”
“Will he be sharing what we talk about with you?”
Edward smiles and lifts his wine glass, taking a long, slow sip. “That’s a great question, Isabella. I’m glad you asked.”
Before he has a chance to answer, our Caesar salads and bruschetta arrive and we both tuck in.
“If you want to explore this further, we’ll make an appointment with Marcus. The three of us will sit down together and talk about the ground rules, so that everyone is comfortable and safe.”
“Isabella, maybe it’s not exactly obvious to you, but each of us has something very important to lose. It’s a delicate balance.”
That makes me set down my fork and ponder. Once again, I’ve underestimated the potential dangers on the dominant side of the equation. Thank goodness I have two experienced and emotionally intelligent masters to count on for wisdom and guidance.
“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t want to do anything to upset your apple cart with Marcus.”
Edward quickly reaches out and covers my hand with his. “I said it was a risk; I didn’t say it wasn’t worth it.”
“So how will we know if we should do this?”
He brushes his thumb across my knuckles. “You said he shared some advice with you today. Was it helpful?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “It was incredibly insightful. But…Edward, I have to say I feel really uncomfortable not being able to talk to you about this.”
Edward smiles. “Whatever you two discuss is yours to share or not to share, sweetheart.”
I let go of a deep breath of stress. “I want to share.”
“Go for it,” he says.
“Well, first off, he praised me for recognizing that I’m still fighting my deep desire to submit, and he said that we could continue to explore that together.”
“You and Marcus?”
Shit. Whoops? “Yes. Does that bother you? Because if it does, I won’t—”
“No. Not at all. In fact, I’m guessing Marcus will have some very concrete ideas how you and I can work on it together as well.”
“Right. And he suggested that I consider another reason I might have chosen the wrong language.”
The waiter interrupts just as Isabella is leaning in to deliver some important nugget. As soon as the plates and extra hands and ears disappear, she explains, “He wondered if I might’ve been testing you somehow.”
Her cheeks pink up, and she seems eager for my response. “Why would you want to test me?”
“He didn’t say,” she answers quickly.
“I wasn’t asking him. I’m asking you. What do you think that means?”
Isabella looks up, across the room, into her wine, anywhere but at me.
“Shit, Isabella, I’m sorry. We’re supposed to be on a date. This is the problem with playing three nights a week. With the spillovers, it turns into more like five.”
“Is that a problem for you?” She’s looking at me now, very intently in fact.
I pull her hand to my lips. “To be honest, I don’t love it for us right now.”
“Which ‘us’?” she presses.
“Were you going to tell me this?”
“Yes, actually I was thinking about bringing it up with you later tonight. Are you sure you want to do this right now?”
“Yes, Edward. If there’s something bothering you, I need to know. I don’t want to sit here and pretend that everything is fine and then discover later you were having reservations. It will ruin the whole night retroactively.”
“Fair enough. Okay. I feel that our play schedule is too aggressive, and I’d like to try cutting back to one weekday and one overnight a week. I think that part of the reason you’re feeling conflicted is that it’s all happening so fast. And while you’ve come so far, and I’m so incredibly proud of you, I just worry that we may have overshot your processor.”
“Did you just ‘geek speak’ me?” She smirks.
I pull my fingers through my hair, hearing my mother’s voice in my ear, “Not at the table, Edward.”
“Not on purpose,” I tell her. “You know what I mean, right? People need time to process. You can’t ride roughshod over that and not expect repercussions. I’d like to take a step back, take our time. We’re in no hurry here; we’re in this for the long haul.”
Isabella’s face falls, and I’m glad I’m seated right next to her so I can wrap my arm around her shoulders. Her voice is small and sad. “I feel like you’re saying this because I’ve disappointed you.”
“I’m saying it because it’s my job to take care of you, to watch and listen and evaluate and alter the course when I deem it responsible to do so. You’re a glorious submissive, Isabella, and it kills me that you don’t feel the same way about your submission. Your mind is going a mile a minute trying to keep up with everything going on in scene, and on top of that, you’ve got your journal entries and the responses and you’re trying to squeeze in writing your story, and by the way land a major client at work…frankly, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. It’s not good for you to not have real days off. It starts to feel like a 24/7, but it’s not that either. We’re just somewhere in between, neither here nor there. I’d like to dial it back just one notch and really savor each scene, let your mind marinate on what we’ve done, give that kink factory a chance to catch up, and then we can move forward together. I can guarantee you will not be bored and you will still feel challenged, but you’ll be able to experience everything on a different plane. I really believe you’ll find it much more satisfying overall.”
She lets out a heavy sigh and her shoulders fall about two inches. Her face relaxes into a grateful smile and she nods her head. “I guess I do feel like I’ve been pedaling pretty hard just to stay afloat. Not so much during the scenes, but everything else. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t think so much.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
She takes my remark as the compliment it’s meant to be. “I guess not.”
“Miss, your linguini a la vongole?”
I pull our clasped hands to my lap so the staff can deliver our meals. “Chicken saltimbocca for the gentleman. Mangia!”
Our waiter refills the wine glasses once more before spinning away to the kitchen. Isabella pulls her hand away, adding an apology, “Sorry, I need this.”
“No worries. It’s all yours…tonight.”
She rolls her eyes and picks up her fork and twirling spoon. Then she looks over at me and waits. “Well?”
“What? I thought it was supposed to jump into my mouth!”
“So very ridiculous,” she grumbles, shaking her head and twirling her first forkful of pasta into the spoon.
I remind her, “But you love me,” as I slice off the edge of the chicken.
As the mozzarella, prosciutto and sage explode on my taste buds, I hear my sweet girlfriend’s answer: “Lord help me, I do.”
“I never said I was sharing, I just said I’d have a taste,” I insist.
“Fine, sit there with your skinny decaf cappuccino while I stuff my face with tiramisu. See if you still want me when I’m a big fat tubbo.”
“Edward, you have the metabolism of a ruby-throated hummingbird. You’ll never be a tubbo.” I can’t even say the word without cracking up into my hot drink.
“True,” he smirks, “but I might be feeling a little sluggish after this.”
“That’s not gonna be a problem.” I know he can see the smile in the corners of my mouth and eyes, even though the enormous coffee cup is covering most of my face.
“Oh yeah? Are you planning on having your way with me later, Miss Swan? Is this what happens when I let you order for me?”
“Yep.” I hand my credit card to the waiter and Edward pulls the tiramisu to his place, digging in with a vengeance and a huge smile that makes me giggle. “Geez, does this mean you’ve actually been holding back?”
“That’sh wha’ doggy bagsh’r for,” he forces out through a mouthful of pastry.
“I honestly can’t decide if I’m horrified or impressed.”
Edward dabs his face with a napkin. “Hopefully, a little of both.”
Edward flags a taxi for us outside and tucks me into the back seat. “I’m a little confused right now,” he says once we get rolling. “Am I supposed to be playing hard to get?”
“You can, but it won’t do you any good.”
“Okay. Good to know,” he answers, nodding his head and smiling out into the neon lights beaming in through the windows.
We hold hands through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the hallway to our unit. In the spirit of “being the guy,” I use my key to unlock the door.
“So hot,” Edward mutters under his breath as I pull him inside and peel off his jacket.
I loosen his tie and slip it over his head, starting in immediately on the buttons. “Do you think you can handle taking off your clothes?” I slide my hand to his considerable bulge and give him a squeeze. “Or are you too sluggish?”
“I think I can manage that,” he answers obligingly.
I take a seat in the lounger and start pulling off my layers— scarf, coat, gloves, boots, stockings, blouse, bra, skirt, and finally, panties. Edward keeps stripping, too, watching everything I do with a burning intensity. When I stand and move in front of him, I can see his chest rising and falling with every breath. I flatten my palm against his heartbeat and push him lightly into the waiting couch. He grins up at me and folds his hands behind his neck, watching, waiting, letting me have my way with him.
I climb onto the cushions, straddling him with my knees, and I press forward until I meet his lips. He lets me lead and mirrors my tongue when I seek his gently where our lips are joined. I sink back into his lap, and his thick cock announces itself between us. We groan together as I rotate my hips, grinding against him. He supports my arms while I sink down, taking him inside me. At first, I feel the need to gaze right into his eyes as I bob up and down over his shaft.
I love the way his eyes roll back in his head each time my bottom hits his thighs. I love how his mouth drops open each time I squeeze and grip him with my muscles. Mostly, I love the sound of his soft grunts each time I twist on the way down.
He slides his hands to my bottom and eyes my breasts hungrily. I offer my chest to his waiting mouth and he nibbles greedily at my flesh. We slide and writhe and moan together, faster, louder, and deeper. I feel his hands grip me tighter and I know he’s close. He loses himself and clamps down on my nipple as his hips crash up against me again and again, until finally he freezes, lets out a long, low groan and releases inside me.
His quick breaths flutter across my chest as he unclenches his teeth, whispering, “Sorry,” over and over again and licks gently at my skin.
“Thanks for before,” I tell her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her soft naked back side against my chest. “That was awesome.”
She weaves her fingers through mine and lets out a long, contented sigh. Turning her head back on the pillow to face me, she says, “Thanks for just now.”
I kiss her again before letting her turn away and burrow into the sheets. “Edward?” Her voice has that intimate tone, as if we might wake someone with our conversation.
“Mind if I ask you something?”
I lift my head off the pillow and settle it on top of her shoulder. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering…do you think I’m a brat?”
I’m so tempted to roll her onto her back and look into her eyes, but there’s a reason she starts conversations like this in the dark, and I can respect that.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been thinking…about what Marcus said, and wondering…I mean, if he is right, and I was trying to test you, I’m trying to figure out why.”
“I’m wondering if there was a piece of me that might have been jealous of your past with Marcus and how much you wanted to impress him, and maybe I was trying to get some of that attention back and focused on me.”
“Isabella, you are the last person I would ever call a brat in scene.”
She gives me a playful elbow in my belly. “Hey! So I’m a brat in real life?”
“Never, baby, never. The real question is, why did you mess up the second time? You must’ve known I was going to hold fast by then.”
“This is…whew…a little rough, but…”
I kiss her neck and snuggle in close, letting her know I’m right there.
“Maybe some tiny piece of me needed to know that you wouldn’t compromise.”
“Discipline equals love,” I confirm.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“So I guess I passed the test then?”
Isabella flips around so our noses are touching. “You always pass the test, Edward.”
|Banner by Betti Gefecht|
A/N: Princess's Journal Entry Ten- WORDS- is up on her blog if you'd like to leave her any feedback. You know how she and the Master love your comments. *wink*
Our teaser is up for Dancing Toward The Sun, Katalina's own true(ish) love story, as told by the two of us as an Edward/Bella fanfiction. The compilation already includes nearly 100 stories and we've raised just over $7K with two weeks to go.
Our teaser is up for Dancing Toward The Sun, Katalina's own true(ish) love story, as told by the two of us as an Edward/Bella fanfiction. The compilation already includes nearly 100 stories and we've raised just over $7K with two weeks to go.
Story submissions and donations are due by October 25th--DON'T MISS OUT! Visit StandUp4Katalina today!