I am not a switch. I do not have a submissive bone in my body. And yet, I find myself beyond willing to submit to Isabella’s desires.
This isn’t a session with Marcus where I’m meant to learn something or feel something for the sake of knowing what I’ll later inflict. Instead, this is me enthusiastically exchanging my share of our equal power as vanilla lovers (or perhaps I should say, vanilla-flavored?) so the object of my affection can take exactly what she needs without worrying what I might want for a change.
Oddly, the knowledge of this scene (of sorts) has been the only saving grace for my sanity today. Knowing that she will take command of my thoughts and my actions frees me from the anxiety of popping the question tomorrow night at dinner. I tell myself I couldn’t have asked tonight; it would’ve usurped Isabella’s plans. It simply wouldn’t have been fair.
Okay, truth time. The deep-down, always-nagging, can’t-hide-from-it truth? Here it is: what if we’d arrived on this remote island today and I’d popped the question tonight and she’d rejected me? That would have been one long motherfucking weekend ahead of us. Nobody needs that kind of awkward on an exotic, remote vacation for Christ’s sake. So the wiser part of me says, “Ask her on Saturday. The worst thing that can happen is you’ll have one lousy night and a long plane ride home.”
I’m waiting till dinner tomorrow night, and it’s all carefully planned, and I just don’t want to think about it anymore. Bottom line? When Isabella takes over, I am all in.
I stand stock still in the hotel hallway waiting for her direction. She opens our door and pushes inside, taking me by the hand and leading me to the small sitting area outside the bedroom. She relaxes into the chaise, kicks off her shoes, extends her legs along the cushion, and crosses her ankles while I stand there waiting. I have to admit, it’s a huge fucking turn-on to be at my lover’s disposal, and I can’t wait to learn what she wants.
“Take off your clothes for me.” Her voice is soft, not demanding—but absolutely commanding. Like my submissive, I obey because it makes me deliriously happy to please her. I’m wearing a short-sleeve button-down shirt and I slowly work the buttons out of their holes and slide the shirt out of my pants. I know how much it turns her on to see my bare chest when the rest of me is fully clothed, so I slowly ease my shirt off over my shoulders and drop it to the floor.
Isabella’s eyes take in my chest, then drop visibly to my crotch. She’s not disappointed when she sees the outline of my erection inside my flimsy pants. My hands move to my belt buckle, and I slide the leather out and give it a whip-snap as the end clears the last loop. Her eyes pop with sudden excitement and a huge smile lights up her face. I resist the urge to think like her Master, but I do not fail to file away her reaction to the belt for another time.
Her tongue slides between her lips as I unbutton and unzip my pants. Her eyes are locked on my fingers, and that’s when I decide to add a little zing. I turn around and wiggle my ass while unzipping my pants, then shimmy out of them stripper-style before turning around again. Thanks to the easy-to-kick-off loafers I was wearing without socks, all that’s left now are my boxer briefs.
“Nice touch,” she says, clearly entertained by my improvisation.
She watches hungrily from her comfortable chair while I slowly glide my underwear down my hips and over the hard shaft of my cock, which pops over the elastic and points directly at her. I step out of the legs one at a time, toss the briefs aside, and await further instructions.
Isabella doesn’t keep me waiting long. She crooks a finger and beckons me closer. I walk the few steps to her chair, my heavy cock swaying in front of me. She reaches her hand out and cups my balls, rolling her thumb lightly across the top of my sac. I suck in a sharp breath and start thinking about html commands and runtime errors before it’s too late.
She opens her palm and slides it along the underside of my cock. I’m starting to lose my mind a little bit.
I realize I’ve had my eyes closed, and I open them and look at her. “Yes?”
“Did you bring what I asked for?”
Bring? Huh? Think! “Oh! Of course.”
“Would you please take your duffle bag into the bathroom, take out the things I asked you to bring, and wait for me to come and get you?”
“Yes, sure.” She lets go of my cock and I take that as my dismissal. We’re walking a fine line here. She knows I won’t address her as anything hinting of a dominant title, but clearly I will do as she asks.
I leave my clothes and head for the closet, grabbing my duffle bag and taking it into the bathroom with me. I’ve brought all kinds of things to use on her tomorrow night, and it won’t help my situation any to ponder nipple clamps or paddles or pieces of chain. I dig through the bag until I locate the two sets of cuffs, the blindfold, and the feather. She keeps me waiting a while, longer than I’m comfortable waiting, longer than I’d allow her to get ready as my submissive.
Then I understand. This, too, is her pleasure—to take her time and get herself ready for the scene without my controlling how long she has to do it or what she needs to wear. I sink into the anticipation of seeing her in the outfit she bought the other night, and before long, her voice carries through the door.
“Can you put the blindfold on yourself?”
So much for seeing the outfit. “Yes.”
“Do that, please, and let me know when you’re set.”
I pull the heavy velour around my eyes and fasten the Velcro as tightly as I can. I don’t want to sabotage her plans with a careless slip of the blindfold. “I’m ready.”
“Okay, I’m opening the door.”
I hear a soft rustle and the click of heels on the marble floor as she steps closer and takes the cuffs and feather out of my hands. Next, her soft lips touch me, kissing and opening my mouth and pushing her tongue against mine. There’s no contact with the rest of my body at all—just the kissing—everything focused into that one erogenous zone. I focus my mind on receiving her exactly as she gives herself to me, not anticipating, not planning the next thing, not thinking at all.
She pulls back and I feel myself lean forward into the empty space, immediately yearning for the lost contact. My hands long to reach for her, and though she hasn’t restrained me—yet—I hold back. I nearly lose my balance when she places her palm on my stomach and drags her fingers around to my back.
“Breathe, baby,” she whispers into my ear as her thumbs press into the column of my neck. Her fingers wrap around the base of my neck as she soothes me with a relaxing massage along my neck and shoulders.
“Does that feel good?”
“Everything you do feels good.”
I feel the warm breath of her soft laughter behind my ear. Her hands slide down my back slowly, her fingers kneading my muscles as she travels downward toward my ass. She switches to a light caress, and goosebumps rise along my flesh. She lightly grasps my wrists and pulls them together at my lower back. When she lets go, I understand I’m to stay this way.
The cool leather of her shoe insinuates itself between my legs and she nudges them until I’m standing with my feet hip-distance apart.
“Nnnnhhh,” I hum, surprised by the sudden touch of gloved fingers around my shaft. It’s not leather...more like some kind of cotton or knit fabric. Fuzzy, soft...
A second hand is added, one waiting at the base while the other slides to the tip, then the second gliding along while the other takes its place. She fondles me this way, with light but relentless pressure. I hear my grunts coming quicker; I’m losing control.
The hands slow and become fluttery touches. My cock feels heavy and strained when she stops stroking me altogether, and I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning out loud.
Her voice is close again. “On a scale from one to ten, with one being you’re rebuilding a hard drive at work and ten being you’re coming like gangbusters, where did I just get you with that?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, but I can’t keep from smiling. “Not to be disrespectful, baby, but that’s not necessarily my ‘one.’”
She tweaks my nipple, not hard enough to hurt, just to prove her point.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I’d call that a six.”
“Just six? Hmm, could’ve fooled me.”
“I...have a pretty wide range—when I’m trying.” When I’m forced to.
“So you can hold yourself back?”
Dangerous question, dangerous answer. “Yes, in theory.”
Isabella hisses. “You know, I think I’d really like to explore that.”
I had a feeling.
“Tell me,” she continues, “at what number do I need to start worrying that you can’t come back?”
“Eight...and a half.”
Her hand is back on my cock, caressing, pulling, teasing. “So, we weren’t even close.”
I can’t help the smirk. “You were getting close to close.”
She gets me back to six with a few quick strokes then leaves me hanging there. The hands move to my face, her lips are on mine again, her voice is in my ear. “We’re going to walk to the bedroom now.”
She must’ve ditched the gloves; her hand comes around my elbow and I let her guide my steps. Her heels click on the hard tile until we reach the carpeted bedroom. We stop, she steps in front of me—so close the boning of her corset glances across my chest—and she gently places her hands on my shoulders.
“I’d like you down on your knees, please.”
I fought with that phrasing for a while, heedful of what both Marcus and Edward told me about delivering commands. I’m watching Edward closely, fully appreciating how hard he must work as Master during every scene to monitor my physical and emotional status.
And work it is, but I have every intention of having my fun with him, too. I’ve already realized something after just a short while—there are many, many things I don’t know about Edward Cullen. Not because he wouldn’t tell me if I asked him but simply because I’ve never had the questions before.
I’ve never been in a position to see how long Edward could hold out, for example. And oh, what he’s done to me now, making me wonder just exactly how he developed that “wide range” of his and what it looked like when he was made to “try.”
Edward sinks gracefully to his knees, holds his wrists clasped behind his back, and casts his face toward the floor in the submissive pose he’s taught me, and one that must feel natural for him under the circumstances. This is not, however, what I had in mind. I cup his chin and tip his head upward.
“You okay down there?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he answers instantly, relieving me of my worries.
I stroke his cheeks gently, watching his face unguardedly the way I watch him sometimes in his sleep. My beautiful, generous lover, offering himself to me in this most intimate way.
I love you so much, Edward.
I hate that most of his gorgeous hair is trapped beneath the wide band of velour but I have the locks in front to play with. Raking my fingertips from his forehead along his scalp, I work both hands through the motions until his neck gives up its resistance and his mouth drops open in relaxation. I coax his head to my thigh, and he leans in with a heavy sigh. My fingers scratch at the base of his neck, and I watch with great satisfaction as his shoulders loosen.
Yes, baby, let go.
It makes me think of how hard I fight against my own bad posture in scene, something I certainly never anticipated before making submission part of my reality. If I asked him now, he’d probably report being around a three, and that’s good by me. I want him utterly relaxed, feeling cared for and cherished and at least a little bit aroused. I peek down toward the floor and note that he’s most definitely at least at four, my sweet, willing victim.
“Still awake in there?” I tease him.
“Mmhmm,” he hums behind that blindfold.
“Would you like to see what I’m wearing for you?”
He perks up right away at that one, a small smile forming on his lips. “Definitely.”
“Sit back and I’ll take your blindfold off.”
Edward rolls back to his heels, chin tipped up, hands held obediently behind his back. I can’t resist kissing him one last time. Though he’s surprised at first, he melts instantly into the kiss and groans out loud when I pull back.
“Such a greedy boy,” I tease him with the word he so often uses to describe me.
Just as I pull open the Velcro and reveal myself, he surprises me with, “You make me greedy.”
His eyes. Those bright, curious, demanding, intense, loving eyes. I probably wouldn’t have noticed any of his other body language if those distracting eyes had been available to me. Is that what it’s like for him? I wonder. I’d always assumed the blindfold was meant to narrow the sensory range of the person wearing it; another little revelation I’d been missing all this time.
“Right back at ya, handsome.”
“Isabella, if you don’t mind my saying...?”
His eyes jerk from my corset to my face while he awaits permission to speak.
And I’m rewarded with a glorious smile. “You look beyond amazing in that corset.”
“Glad you like it. Now, are you ready to play a little game with me?”
“That’s my boy. Okay, here are the rules. You are only allowed to touch me with your mouth.”
He immediately leans forward and licks my thigh. I giggle and pull him back. “You might want to hear the rest before we start.”
No, you’re not, but you’re awfully cute.
“I need you to tell me when you get to a six, then tell me if it gets to a seven, and I need you to stop everything and tell me if you get to eight. You’re not allowed to get past eight until you make me come. Got it?”
“Yes,” he grins, “but it’s highly doubtful that I’m getting to an eight if I’m only touching you with my mouth.”
“Really?” I slide my spiky shoe between his legs and tap his half-asleep cock.
Understanding dawns on Edward. “Oh. Right. You can touch me.”
“Mmhmm. So you’re clear?”
I’d never get away with his cheeky attitude but honestly, I would not want it any other way.
“Let the games begin.”
Edward wastes no time scooting forward on his knees and kissing a trail of soft kisses up the inside of my thigh. My eyes are locked on what he’s doing, and my brain is still trying to wrap itself around the reality of my naked kneeling Edward fantasy coming true before me.
He tips his head back and catches my eye just before opening his mouth and placing the whole thing over my tiny G-string. A rush of warm, moist air flows through the silky material. I’m tempted to hold his head there and make him finish, but that’s not how I set this up. I’m not going to give him any help or easy access. I don’t expect either to be a problem for my resourceful guy.
There’s a lot I can do with my mouth. Lips, tongue, teeth...and dirty talk. I am not above using every weapon at my disposal to meet this challenge.
Isabella is pushing a six herself, if my calculations are right. I’m at a wee bit of a disadvantage without my fingers, but I could smell her arousal the moment she opened the bathroom door and now, I can taste it as well. She’s watching me, so I’ll give her a visual to go along with the mouth fucking her panties just took.
Repositioning myself carefully between her legs, I grasp the thin string between my teeth and tug left and right and down and left and right and down until I’ve got the thing resting below her pussy.
Fucking perfection is what it is. I look up at Isabella, victory shining in my eyes, and I reach out my tongue and lick. And I lick some more. Then I swirl and lick, and she swoons, and I figure I’ve pretty much mastered this game, when I hear, “I need you to stand up.”
Hello, monkey wrench.
She steps back to give me some space to get my feet under me, and then she takes hold of my cock. I think she might be a little pissed, because she’s pulling fairly aggressively but it feels damn good, and then I remember there’s something I’m supposed to let her know and oh yeah, “Six.”
She lets go just like that and smiles as wide as her whole face. “That’s better.”
I figure going down there again will be met with the same results, so I try something new. I step forward, carefully keeping my lower body away from hers, and press my lips to the soft skin overflowing the top of her corset.
“Mmm, your tits taste delicious.” I dip my tongue under the edge and pull up a nipple. POP! She seems a bit surprised that I’ve managed this, and next thing I know, her hand’s around my cock again, rolling, sliding, teasing. I apply my teeth to her nipple, making her cry out.
“Look at that nipple pointing at me, Isabella. I think it wants more.” More teeth, more tongue, more tugging on my cock in retaliation.
I quickly ply the other breast out of the boning while she works me over with both hands now. I have to admit, she’s getting to me. “Seven,” I announce, bringing a proud smirk to her face and a new determination, it seems. With both hands pumping my shaft and my balls, I’m heading straight for a shutdown, and that’s when I get the bright idea to move behind her.
At first, it was just to get away from those fiendish hands until I could come up with a plan to work my face downtown again, but once I’m back here, I realize I can actually be productive. I grasp the end of the lace in my teeth and pull. Victory! Of course, if I’d have tied this for her, no way it would come off so easily, but a girl can only get her own corset so tight.
Every time she reaches around to grab me, I side-step her hand. I’m back down to a six at this point, out of immediate danger, and using all my concentration to loop the string around each of the hooks. I’m bobbing and weaving away from her searching hands while making a crazy figure-eight with my face, but success is within my grasp. One more hook and...ahhh...the back splits apart and falls away, leaving Isabella in nothing but the spiky heels and tiny wet triangle trapped between her legs.
She spins around and meets my eyes. I’m pretty proud of myself, but she holds all the marbles. She has the “Get out of jail free” card—her command. The game is hers to win any time she wants it.
I need to give her a reason to want to lose.
I lean forward and close my lips over hers. She’s pliant—probably because I surprised her with my sudden move, but mostly because I’ve stopped being an asshole trying to win a game and started being a boyfriend who wants desperately to please his girl. My tongue presses out softly and she lets me remind her that this isn’t a game, not really. When I pull away gently, her eyes are softer, too.
“Will you let me take care of you now, baby?”
She nods without a word, and I kiss my way down her body, sinking to my knees when I reach her belly. I take her G-string in my teeth and tug it down, and she holds onto my shoulders while she steps out of it. And then the best thing happens: she spreads her legs and pulls my face to her pussy.
The man is naked and cuffed, tied spread-eagle to the bedposts, and hard as a rail so all should be well in the state of Denmark. Problem is, I don’t know the first thing about proper tension and muscles and angles, and more than anything I want this to be good for him.
“Can we take a time out for a second here?” I finally ask, after much inner turmoil.
Thankfully, Edward continues to be generous and loving. He doesn’t even smirk. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Have I done this right?”
Edward looks at his hands and feet then back at me. “Assuming you wanted me tied to the bed, yes.” Maybe he smirks a wee bit on that one.
I wave the feather across his stomach—a miniature punishment—and place my hands on my hips. “I want you tied comfortably but securely.”
“Not to be a wise guy,” he says, eyeing the feather, “but it depends what you have planned.”
I don’t volunteer anything, and he nods and continues. “For example, if a person wanted access...to certain places...she’d have to make sure they were...available.”
He follows my eyes to the space between his legs, which is wide enough for what I have planned. “And?”
“And if a person had plans that required her victim to keep still...” again he looks at the feather, “she’d need to make sure the bonds were tight enough to restrict movement.”
“Hypothetically, in that situation, would yours be tight enough?”
Without moving a muscle, he answers, “No.”
“And if I tighten them, it won’t be uncomfortable for you?”
“That’s a tricky question. First of all, a little discomfort isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Secondly, what I can stand for a short time is different from a lengthier scene. And thirdly, I don’t know how tight you’re about to make my bonds.”
“That was highly educational. How about I tighten them and we meet again?”
“You’re the boss,” he smiles, adding a wink.
He might not have believed it at the time he said it, but twenty minutes later, with tightened cuffs and the judicious use of Master’s feather, Edward is feeling my bossitude.
“I know you might be a wee bit distracted by this feather, but I want to make sure you see that I’m still wearing these stilettos. You see them, right?”
“Yesss,” he hisses, turning his head to where I’m standing next to the bed.
“What number are we, Edward?”
“Seven,” he answers, adding, “and a half,” at the last second.
“I think that might be where I am, too, looking at your beautiful, naked body spread out and cuffed to the bed. What do you think about Master’s feather?” I wave it across his cock. “Is that going to push you up?” I tease him with a quick scrub, and he groans.
“Might? What if I do this instead?” I brush the feather lightly up his chest, zeroing in on his nipples. His muscles are rolling and flexing beneath his pebbled skin and his nipples are two hard, pink knots. “Would that bring you to an eight?”
“I don’t think so,” he answers.
I dip the feather into the hollows under his arms and his hips flex right off the bed.
“Oh my! That’s exciting!” What a rush to have his body at my utter disposal this way. There’s something else I just have to do...I may never get another chance. I swish the feather down his body, giving his cock a good swirl or two before dragging it down his legs and over his ankles.
“I was wondering...” I give the first sole a swipe and his toes twitch madly, but he’s locked in tight. “And the other...?” Same result. Two ticklish feet. Another thing I had yet to discover about this mysterious man.
Left. Twitch. Right. Twitch. Left, left, left...loud groan and full body tensing.
“Want me to stop?”
“You’re the boss,” he repeats.
Right, right, right... “Aaarrghhh!” Heavy panting.
Long swipe up left. “EIGHT! Oh god, eight!”
Well, well, well. I was not expecting that. If anything, I thought it would have had the opposite effect on him. His dick is straining as hard as his toes are right now.
I move the feather up his legs and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief...until I start brushing it directly on top of his dick.
“Getting to eight again,” he pants heavily, and I move it away.
“Pretty powerful feather, isn’t it?” I tease.
“I’ve always felt that way myself,” I commiserate.
He gives me a weary look, poor guy. I think he’s had just about enough, and I know I have.
Hell, I’m hornier than he is and aching to feel his body against mine. I toss the feather to the floor and climb on top of my captive, swinging the impractical stiletto carefully over his body so I don’t impale him.
His eyes close as I place my palms flat against his chest and slide myself down until my need is resting on his. I lower my mouth and kiss him hard at first, then more gently.
“You have been a model prisoner,” I praise him. “Time for your parole hearing.”
His mouth cracks into a sly grin. “What do I have to do to get sprung from this joint?”
“You...” I slide my body along his cock, slicking him up for me, “have to...” I reach for his cock with my hand and position him at my opening, “fuck...me...silly.”
His hips and his head are the only parts of his body he can move right now, so he flexes up and into me as I meet him each time with a powerful down stroke. Our eyes don’t waiver from each other’s.
“Feel good, baby?” It’s a ridiculous question.
“I wish...grunt, grunt...I could...grunt...touch you.”
“Just fuck me, Edward.”
His eyes look a bit crazed as he pounds into me as far as the bonds will allow.
“NINE AND A FUCKING HALF!...ahhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn!”
“Don’t stop now!”
“Oh fuuuck, ten, fucking ten, ten, TEN!” His eyes pinch shut and I clamp down around him and squeeze, pulling every last drop of pleasure out of him.
He forces his eyes open as soon as he has control, and I collapse onto his spent body.
“Sweetheart...the cuffs, please?”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” She lifts her leg over me and pulls off the heels. “I must’ve dozed off.”
I chuckle. “Marcus would kick your ass all the way back to the mainland for that.”
“As well he should! Jeesh!”
I rub out my wrists while she unfastens my ankle cuffs.
“Let me go get you a warm towel...and anything else?”
“A bottle of water would be nice.”
“Sure. Be right back.” She looks as fine going as she does coming back. I take the water bottle and she plops onto the bed next to me and tosses the towel on my stomach.
“Well, that was fun.”
I look over at her while I clean up and rehydrate. She looks like she wants to talk.
“Drink?” I offer and lift the covers for us. Isabella takes a swig then snuggles up to my side and places her cheek against my chest.
“So how’d you like being the boss?”
“I liked it fine for a change of pace, but don’t quit your day job, okay?”
Her answer doesn’t really surprise me, but I hope acting out her fantasy wasn’t disappointing for her. “Was I that bad of a sub for you?”
“God no, you were amazing. That stuff you did...with your teeth...nnngh!”
“That was fun,” I agree. “I liked that you had to come before me. That’s the way it should be, and you made it a fun challenge.”
“Thanks for being so sweet and helping me there in the middle...well, really, the whole way through. You were awesome. I could never have done that with anyone else.”
I so hope not, because considering it, even for a second, makes my heart ache. My fingers scratch light patterns along her back. “So, why the qualification?”
There’s a pause while she gathers her thoughts. “Would you think less of me if I told you I think it’s because I’m too selfish to be a top?”
“Ah, you’ve finally found me out, Mr. Selfless... in the flesh.”
She drops a kiss on my chest and rubs absently with her palm. “I appreciate you.” Finally shows me more than the top of her head, tipping her face up and revealing teary eyes. I cup her chin and draw her in for a kiss—a very long kiss, as it turns out.
“I appreciate you, too. I thought I’d go out of my mind when I couldn’t touch you there at the end.”
She sits up suddenly, her hand pressing on my chest. “I had no idea you were so ticklish...or that it got you so horny.”
I look up at the ceiling and sigh. “Yeah, there goes the last of my well-kept secrets.”
“Did Marcus know about that?”
Now I throw my arm over my face. Yeah, Marcus knew. “He is nothing if not thorough.”
“God, that is so fucking sexy. I can’t tell you what it does to me to imagine that.”
“Well, imagine what you must, sweet girlfriend. I’m not a sub and I’m not gay and we’re not playing with anyone else ever, so...”
“I know, I know, write it out.”
“Oh goody,” I ooze sarcasm. “You’re gonna start writing gay BDSM now?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s not gonna get me hot and bothered... speaking of hot and bothered, I worship at the altar of your corset. I am gonna need to see that on you again and soon!”
“Okay, but next time you’re getting me into it. That was kind of a nightmare!”
“Be careful what you wish for, baby.”
“Psshhh. So, it was really good for you?”
“Actually, I faked my orgasm.”
“I knew it!” she giggles. “So the rest wasn’t too hokey?”
“I loved every minute.”
“I forgot to tell you I love you at the end.”
“I think that’s about where you fell asleep,” I laugh.
“Before I fall asleep again, I love you, Edward.”
“I love you, too.”
“There’s something else.”
“Better than love?”
She huffs. “Not better, just something I need to say.”
“Go for it.”
“You can stop worrying about me now and just have your orgasms.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know what you’ve been doing since we talked about it, and thank you very much, but you can stop trying to stay here with me. Just go—wherever it is you go—and enjoy.”
“What if I like staying with you?”
“I was a little afraid you were gonna have a stroke or something there at the end.”
I sure hope you don’t have a stroke while you’re asking her.
“I promise, I’ll be okay.”
“Speaking of breakfast...”
“What? Were we? I thought we were talking about orgasms.”
“You’re making me hungry.” She reaches for the room service card with all the breakfast listings. “What time do you think you want to eat?”
“Mmm, since we’re staying in our room, maybe I’ll wake you up and kick up the sheets a bit first, then we can take a skinny dip in our private plunge pool, how about, say, nine-thirty?”
“Sounds pretty decadent, Mr. Cullen.”
“That would be the goal, baby.”
We finally manage to pull on bathing suits and head down to the beach around eleven. I stop to pull off my sandals once we reach the sand, and Edward kicks off his flip-flops.
“Don’t you just love the feel of the sand between your toes?” I ask.
“Beats a feather.”
“Oh—I forgot,” I start, handing him my shoes, “this is your job.”
He smirks and takes them willingly. “Better be careful, Isabella. You’re not the boss anymore.”
His voice is ninety-nine percent playful, but when he rolls that tongue along the inside of the cheek, I get that familiar thrill down my spine.
“I thought the submissive had all the power?”
He curls his fingers around mine and swings our arms between us as we walk. “You...always...have all the power over me.”
I pull the warm Caribbean sky into my lungs and let out a big breath of happy. “In that case, I say we grab these two chairs right here.”
We drop our stuff down on the table between the two chaises, and Edward takes off his shirt. I pull off my long white gauze cover-up and Edward gawps at me in my white bikini. “Hmm, it might be a tie between that and your corset.”
My eyes travel down to his bathing suit, just curious whether he’s actually that excited. As if there were ever a question. “I can practically still feel you inside me from our plunge pool sex, and you’re already sprouting a new one? What are you gonna do with that thing down here?”
Edward laughs. “Why do I have to do anything? He’s just being happy.”
It’s impossible not to smile, and why would I fight it? I don’t think I’ve ever been happier myself. I toss him the sunscreen. “Mind?”
“Yes, I do. I mind rubbing lotion all over my girlfriend’s nearly naked body.”
Edward squirts some lotion into his hand and starts at my shoulders. I tip my head forward and melt into his hands.
“Would you like me to get your breasts while I’m at it?” he asks in a matter-of-fact voice that has no business asking that question.
“Gee, thanks, but no, I think I’m good.”
“Really?” Now his voice is getting silkier, husky even. “I wouldn’t want you to get a sunburn when you take off your top.”
His fingers play at the strings behind my neck and I gasp and grab his hand. “Stop that!”
Edward chuckles and tries to look innocent when I spin around to glare at him. “Did I neglect to tell you yesterday that this is a topless beach?”
“Yup. It’s optional, of course,” he adds smoothly, “but I think it’s a highly attractive option. As you can see, I’ve embraced it.”
The gauntlet has been thrown.
“How did I not notice this yesterday?”
“Isabella,” he chuckles, “there’s almost nobody here. There are only 30 rooms total and it’s just past their busy season. Besides, not everyone is indulging, and your eyes were closed most of the time we were down here before.”
“But yours weren’t, I’ll bet.” Now I’m sounding a wee bit cross.
“Sure I looked, but I’d never see anything I like better than what’s already mine.”
I’m feeling less cross now. “That’s really sweet, in a pervy-possessive kinda way.”
“Just telling it like it is. Wanna get my back?” He hands me the bottle.
“Yes, seeing as you’re all overexposed here...” I give him the “spin around” sign and squirt a line of lotion across his shoulder blades.
“Mmm,” he hums. “That was so nice last night when you did this to me. You know, you’re a very sweet top.”
“Thanks. So are you.”
He starts laughing, and pretty soon he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking.
“Nice try, baby,” he says, turning his head. His laughter stops cold when he sees that I’ve taken off my top. “Oh.”
I hand him back the bottle. “So...”
His eyebrows pop straight to his hairline, and he wastes no time squeezing a mound of lotion into his hand. His eyes lose their playfulness and take on a serious expression—like a man who’s just been entrusted with the nuclear missile launch codes. “Okay then, here we go.”
He reaches for both breasts at once, and my nipples are so hard in his palms, it almost hurts when he touches them. We’re standing on the beach in the middle of the day, and he’s blatantly fondling me. Damn good thing my bikini bottoms are moisture repellant because there is definite action down there right now.
Edward steps closer, and I can feel the tension in his fingers as he cups my breasts and brushes his thumbs across my nipples. His chest is tight and the growing “happiness” in his swim trunks is unmistakable. The crashing surf provides an arrhythmic backdrop for the soft slosh of lotion as he caresses me.
His eyes suddenly click up to the sound of laughter behind me, and he gently drops his hands. “That should do it.”
I smile down at his erection. “I’ll say.”
It’s hard to tell behind his Ray-bans, but it almost looks as if he’s blushing. “Pretty brave, Isabella.”
I shrug. “What do I care? They’re yours.”
“Fuck, woman, you’re bringing out the cave man in me.”
I flop back down on my chair and lift my arms over my head. He reaches back for his seat blindly, his eyes glued to my chest as if he’d never seen it before, and plops heavily down on his butt.
“You just gonna sit there and stare at my tits?”
“Let me know if they do anything exciting.”
They do plenty that’s exciting—including pebbling up in the occasional tradewind—but I won’t tell, because then she’d know my eyes never left her nipples. That’s not exactly true; I had to keep a constant patrol of the area to make sure nobody else looked for too long. Funny thing about topless beaches—they tend to get busier when a nice set of tits comes on the scene, and Isabella has fantastic tits.
I know full well she’s not sleeping, and I also know she’s nowhere near as nonchalant about baring her chest as she’d have me believe. One thing’s for sure, though—I am way more bothered by the onlookers than she is, not so much by the women, but there are certainly enough men around to really make me bristly. The final straw is a solitary man who slows his jog and cranes his neck so hard I’m hoping it might snap on the way back. I’ve reached my limit.
I stand up and move to the foot of her chaise, blocking the man’s view as well as the sun’s rays. The cool shadow stretches up to her face, and makes her open her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I think your nipples are starting to burn.”
She tucks her chin down to evaluate the situation. “They seem fine.”
We’re at an impasse. Hands on my hips, I try once more. “I’m dying out here. I’m going to take a dip in the ocean. Wanna join?”
“Sure,” she answers, standing and moving past me toward the ocean.
She turns around and giggles. “Now, was that so difficult?”
I reach for her top and toss it to her. “You’re turning me into a complete Neanderthal here.”
“I don’t think you can quite pin that one all on me.” She takes her top good-naturedly and skillfully clasps the hook behind her back.
“Okay, fine. He's always lurking, but you certainly bring him to the surface like no other.”
She smiles and says, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Turns out, the act of putting her top back on is almost as alluring as having it off. There’s a series of dips and upside-down flips and adjustments of flesh that fascinate and titillate, and I make sure to shield her movements from prying eyes—other than mine. When she’s finished, she takes my offered hand and we move to the shore together.
“Still happy?” she asks, with a glance at my tented trunks.
“I’d characterize it more as pleasurably strained at the moment.”
More giggling as we dip our toes into the surf. The water feels like a warm bath, soothing but not necessarily providing relief for my unwieldy erection, nor is her wrapping her legs around my waist and teasing me with her ass.
“Want to swim a bit?” I ask.
We freestyle side by side across the waves, parallel to the shoreline. It feels great to stretch my muscles a bit and work off some of my pent-up tension. I notice Isabella starting to lag behind. “Want a ride?”
She smiles and jumps on my back, wrapping her fingers over my shoulders and floating above my back. I bob gently through the water, using a shallow breast stroke that keeps my eyes above the salt water, until I feel all swum out. We tread water together and marvel at how far we’ve traveled.
“Edward, look!” I follow Isabella’s gaze to the beach. There’s a small grove of palm trees, and slung between two of them is a rope hammock. “We’ve found our happy place. Come on!”
She takes off, gracefully flutter-kicking toward the shore in the clear Caribbean water. I watch helplessly as she rises from the water, her wet bathing suit clinging to her bottom like a transparent second skin. Before I can get there, she basically commandeers the entire hammock, spinning gracefully into the seat and setting it to a slow swing.
“Ahhhhhh! C’mon!” She pats the sliver of space next to her.
Isabella giggles as I pretty much fall into the sling and crowd into her, causing the whole thing to rock dangerously and both of us to roll to the middle.
“Easy there, Tarzan,” she admonishes with a giggle.
She lifts her head so I can wind my arm underneath her, and we eventually settle into a calm sway.
“This is pretty much exactly what I had in mind when I booked the trip.”
“This place is perfect. Thank you for making it happen.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“It was a tough decision...you, the sun, the beach...or work, the slush, the cold, hazy city.”
My eyes are closed and I’m drifting, picturing how I used this very place as a mental escape so many times recently and truly enjoying the reality of actually being here, holding my girl, swinging in this shady hammock, and in a couple hours, hopefully making her mine permanently.
Fingertips graze along my chest, tickling me up the side where my arm is trapped, and I yell out, “Hey!” and reach to grab her hand. My sudden jolt sets us rocking again, and before I know it, the hammock has tipped and spilled me face down into the sand.
“Oh, shit! Sorry!” If not for the giggling, I may not have doubted her sincerity. Her face pops over the side, looking down with mild concern at my sorry ass, but my eyes are drawn to the two dark, raised peaks barely contained by her wet, white top. Need to get to the nipples...
I push myself up onto hands and knees and grab the edge of the hammock. With one little tug, I could spill her on top of me, but the craziest thing happens when I pull my first foot under me to stand—the other knee still buried in the sand—and gaze into those beautiful brown, smiling eyes.
“Crap, Edward, you’re not hurt, are you?”
This is it! screams every instinct in my body. Screw the carefully-laid plans for later, the expensive champagne, the fancy clothes, hell...screw the ring! We’re here, together, in our happy place, and it can’t be an accident that I’m down on one knee.
A/N: OH MY GAWWWD! What's she gonna say?? Happy Valentine's Day, all. See you in 9 days with the last chapter, 101- AFTERMATH.