Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Massage Therapy, Chapter 17 - Test, part 3

From the Desktop of Bella Swan
Sunday, August 29 (cont'd.)

My heart thrashed wildly in my chest as he headed for the innocent zipper bag and removed the guilty-looking restraints from within. Handcuffs in hand, he crawled on the bed, then over my body, straddling me, holding me in place beneath him. My breaths came in shallow spurts as I looked up at him, searching his eyes. His expression was so intense that I wasn’t even sure what I saw there. But I knew that beyond the primal lust lay something else . . . something that told me I could trust him.

I barely realized that I was already holding my arms aloft, in position, waiting. Offering myself up to him. He finally tore his gaze from mine and let his eyes travel down the length of my right arm before his hands followed. He slid the first open cuff around my wrist, careful not to pinch the skin as he closed it shut. I flinched slightly at the clink of metal on metal, encasing my flesh. Edward was too intent on what he was doing to notice.

He lifted my arm gently to the top rail of my antique headboard so that he could close the other cuff around it. At the snap of the metal closure, my wrist was secured in place, arm dangling helplessly below. He had not placed my arm so high that it was uncomfortable, but the sensation of the hard steel restricting my wrist was . . . strange. I wasn’t sure what I felt.

Edward’s eyes looked to mine, gauging, waiting for my permission. I could not slow my breath, but I kept my gaze steady and determined. Satisfied, he turned his attention to my left wrist, binding it to the headboard along with its mate.

I shuddered slightly at the realization that half my limbs were now rendered useless: unable to struggle, unable to caress; unable to do anything but give in. As I pulled at the cuffs, I realized that along with my helplessness, I felt something else altogether. Something almost infuriating in its inappropriateness.


As I lay pinned under Edward’s body weight, completely at his mercy, I felt a fire burn hotter through my belly than it ever had before. I was shocked at how much I wanted him to take me; to play with my body and toy with me until I was nothing but a bundle of raw nerves in his hands. The anticipation of what he might do to me made my next breath come out in a whimper.

Edward knelt down, his face close to mine. His hand caressed my cheek as he looked to me for approval again.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

I nodded mutely, as if my tongue were restrained along with my wrists.

“It feels good to give in, doesn’t it?” he continued, leaning closer and pressing his lips to my face.

I nodded again and squirmed beneath him.

“You trust me to make you feel good, don’t you?” His voice was hypnotic, his breath hot on my lips as he hovered over me.

“Yes,” I finally uttered with a shaky breath of my own.

The corners of his mouth turned upward in a satisfied grin as he nuzzled his face to mine. I lifted my neck to nuzzle back, unable to show affection any other way.

“God, how I love you,” he sighed before closing his mouth over mine. Our tongues swirled in a decadent dance together, his hands free to roam my face and then my body as it writhed in response.

His lips broke away from mine and he raised himself off of me, scooting back on the bed and resting on his haunches between my legs. He violated me with his eyes first, letting them wander lazily over every part of my body. His hands repeated the process then, running up and down my torso, stroking, squeezing, thumbing my nipples, fingering my clit. He touched me wherever he wanted, for as long as he wanted, while my cheeks flamed with pleasure and my mouth made wanton noises to match.

He had my ankles raised to his shoulders, his mouth tonguing its way down my left calf, when he finally spoke.

“This would taste even better with a little embellishment.” His eyes gleamed with mischief.

I bit my lip, unable to produce a witty comeback. I knew he was about to cover me in chocolate and lick me clean, and I couldn’t wait. I was nearly desperate for him to begin.

He released my legs and lowered them to the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he announced as he jumped up and left the room.

I lay bewildered and cold with shock at the removal of his warm hands from my body. I let my wrists hang limply in their cuffs for a moment and tried to slow my breathing, to calm myself before the next assault. I was amazed how the simple act of removing my free will had heightened my senses and made every nerve twitch with an agony of anticipation.

Edward returned shortly with a large glass of water, a fresh goblet of wine and a wad of paper towels in hand.

“In case things get a little messy,” he explained with the ghost of a grin.

He set the paper towels on the bed and the water glass on the nightstand, then sat down next to me. He brought the wine glass to my lips and tilted it carefully so that I could take a sip. I had barely swallowed when he pressed his lips to mine, pushing his tongue inside to taste the remnants of the cabernet.

“Delicious,” he sighed, and I sighed along with him. I felt unbelievably high, and the wine itself had nothing to do with it. It was the way he fed it to me and drank it from my mouth that made my desire swell.

His hand cradled my face and he looked deeply into my eyes.

“Do you know what I thought the first time I saw your face?” he asked.

I shook my head dumbly. I was beginning to think that he might as well have gagged me, because when he’d rendered my hands useless, he’s somehow done the same to my tongue.

“I thought you had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen,” he told me, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Like two enormous drops of Hershey’s syrup. Sweet, glistening chocolate.”

I let out a short, nervous laugh, shaking my head. And I thought your eyes looked like an untamed sea. I still do.

He reached for the squeeze bottle of Hershey’s syrup and uncapped the top. “I used to fantasize about this early on. Before I’d ever even held your hand.”

I faintly shook my head again, still stunned to hear these types of admissions.

“I never dreamed you even thought of me outside the office,” I mumbled, finally finding my tongue.

He smiled and pulled up the plastic button of the squirt bottle. “I made you come a hundred times in my mind before I ever kissed you. But of course, my imagination was nowhere near as good as the real thing. It never is.”

He crawled over the bed and positioned himself between my legs again, looking down at me as I sat helplessly staring up at him. He pulled me down a little further on the mattress so that I was lying more than sitting, and my arms were pulled a little tauter as a result.

“Where to begin?” he murmured as he pointed the container of Hershey’s at my chest. He squeezed the bottle and a splash of cool syrup hit my skin. I gasped at the temperature, then giggled as the chocolate fluid tickled me while dribbling down between my breasts.

His crooked grin made a brief appearance before he knelt down and ran his tongue up the chocolate stream, lapping at it until it disappeared. I shivered at the sensation and braced myself for more.

Next he aimed for my right nipple, covering it in a dark river that began running slowly from the peak in every direction. I turned my body slightly, pushing my breast upward as best I could to keep the chocolate from dripping under my arm and down onto my sheets. Edward chuckled at my efforts and dove to the rescue, his tongue damming the syrupy flood before it did any damage. He licked and sucked up every drop, leaving my breast sticky and quivering with pleasure by the time he moved on to the other.

He repeated the procedure on my left nipple, grinning with satisfaction while my body twisted sideways to prevent the chocolate rivulets from reaching my sheets. Once again he waited until the last minute before lapping the sweet liquid from my skin and sucking my nipple into a rigid peak under his tongue.

He took great delight in working his way down my body this way, stopping for drinks of water in between drafts of Hershey’s. He painted chocolate hearts on my belly and arrows on my thighs, which pointed, then slithered, toward my groin when he lifted my legs vertically in the air and held them there. And each time he would smile with smug satisfaction as he cleaned the chocolate from my skin before it could run beneath my body.

He paused after he’d devoured the arrows from my thighs, gazing at the waiting flesh between them. My sex throbbed with desire and my wrists strained in frustration.

“You know, I always thought I wanted to fill you up with this syrup and then lick every drop out of you,” he pondered as he held the bottle of chocolate sauce inches away from my helpless snatch. “But I don’t want to do anything to spoil your flavor. You’re still the best thing I’ve ever tasted. This stuff pales in comparison.”

He leaned over to set the syrup bottle on the nightstand, but then brought it back to my mouth instead.

“Do you want a taste?” he whispered.

I nodded, mute again.

“Stick out your tongue,” he commanded.

I felt silly, but did his bidding. He squeezed the bottle over the tip of my outstretched tongue, filling it with chocolate--too much chocolate. Most of it dripped off my tongue and landed on my chest, while the rest dribbled from the corners of my mouth down my face.

Edward made an animal noise as he caught my tongue between his lips, sucking the syrup off of it before enveloping my whole mouth. We both giggled and groaned in unison as we shared a rich, velvety-sweet kiss, lapping chocolate from each other until nothing but sticky residue remained. He licked the last bit of sauce from my chest, then offered me a drink of water, tilting the glass carefully to my lips once again.

“Thank you,” he whispered in my ear, again kissing my cheek gently. “That was the best dessert I’ve ever had, bar none.”

“I think it was mine, too,” I replied shakily. “Until I do the same to you, that is.”

His eyes flickered hopefully at me. “I look forward to it,” he said. “But I’m not quite done with you yet.”

We both took a deep breath. Edward trailed his fingertips up my arms, then grasped my hands gently in his.

“Are you okay? Is this too uncomfortable for you?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “I almost forgot I even have hands.”

His smile was pleased. “Giving up control allows you to feel things in a way you never would otherwise,” he said in the irresistible Sex Voice. “The unpredictability is exciting. You’ve always liked it. That’s why I thought you’d like this.” He massaged my hands and wrists gently, then reached over and planted several kisses along one arm, then the other.

My breathing became erratic as he moved nearer my face, his lips hovering tantalizingly over mine for a moment.

“Are you ready to come now?” he asked. His bedroom eyes bored into mine, announcing that he intended to make me.

“I’m always ready for that,” I whispered hoarsely. I lifted my mouth toward his, seeking his kiss. He responded with a deep and thorough plunder of my mouth. My heart pounded, knowing that my pussy was next.

True to form, he moved south, hands and mouth exploring and caressing until they came to rest between my legs. My groin throbbed with desire, and when he fingered my opening, it made a wet, smacking noise.

“So much better than anything man could create,” he said, lifting the cream-coated fingers to his lips and licking them dry. His mouth descended upon me then, wet tongue meeting wet vagina with hungry insistence.

My wrists again pulled at their restraints, fingers itching to bury themselves in the forest of bronze-colored hair that bobbed between my legs. But my body could only undulate helplessly, hips lifting toward his face, legs surrendering to his hands as he pushed them open. I let myself submit totally, as I always did, to the exquisite sensation of his tongue working me into a frenzy of desire.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” he growled when he finally broke free, and a thrill shot through me at the first sign of him losing his well-kept control. “I want to be inside you in every way possible. I want you to let me in, in every way possible. I can’t explain to you why I need it so much . . . I just do.”

His breath was ragged, his eyes beseeching as he leaned closer to my face. “Let me in, Bella.”

I could feel my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I already have,” I told him.

He shook his head slightly. “I want more.”

I wasn’t even sure what he meant. If he meant anal sex, I’d already pretty much agreed to it in a roundabout way. Maybe for him, that symbolized the last barrier between us. If I let him breach it, would he finally tear down the ones he still hid behind?

Though I lay shackled and utterly vulnerable before him, I felt like the one in power as I made my reply.

“If you want more, then take it.”

His gaze was as grateful as it was aroused. He kissed me, hard, forcing the taste of my own sex in my mouth. I kissed him back anyway, relenting to his will and his need.

We were both panting again by the time he had worked his lips back to my crotch. He was insatiable, mouth and fingers everywhere, licking and probing and filling my deepest recesses. I was so wet that he hadn’t even reached for the lube he’d brought, using my own juices and his saliva to grant him access to both of my openings. I barely even winced at the backdoor penetration this time, my muscles more used to relaxing and allowing the intrusion.

“So fucking hot,” he sighed, his voice a raspy crumb as he plumbed me rhythmically and drew helpless moans from my throat. “I think you’re ready for more now.”

I barely had time to react when he withdrew his hand and reached for the zipper case. I felt my pulse quicken as he opened the Zip-lock bag inside and pulled out the vibrator. He pressed his thumb to the switch and it emitted a low, humming noise.

“You’re going to love this,” he declared before pushing my legs open and touching it to my clitoris.

I cried out in surprise at the intense sensation of the vibrating wand on my nerve-filled flesh. My cries became a series of whimpers as he stroked me up and down with the smooth plastic, wetting its surface with my cream and then teasing my opening with it.

“I think your pussy wants even more,” he said. I heard the vibrator’s volume go up slightly before the vibrations increased in intensity.

“Oh God,” I exclaimed before I could stop myself. My hips lifted to meet the shaking wand, ready to take it deeper. Edward’s smirk was maddening as he pushed the vibrator deep inside me, then slowly fucked me with it. In and out . . . in and out . . . at a leisurely pace that drove me crazy. I lost all sense of propriety, if I had any to begin with, and writhed uncontrollably, struggling against the unrelenting handcuffs.

“Faster,” I finally begged. “Please.”

“So you like me fucking you this way?” he asked, in tone so melliflous that it made me want to scratch his eyes out. He gave the object several hard thrusts deep inside me to punctuate his question.

“Yes,” I half-sobbed, half-snarled at him. I looked down and helplessly watched the vibrator disappear inside me, over and over, slowly picking up the pace, while mere inches away Edward’s own dick stood completely erect and ready to do the job.

“Do you like fucking me with that thing? Wouldn’t you rather do it yourself?” I taunted him.

“I like watching you come undone. I don’t care about the method.”

“Fucker,” I mumbled under my breath in between panting and moaning. I really wanted to smack the smug look off of his face then, but I could only lie back and take the fake vibrating cock inside me, letting it bring me to the brink of orgasm despite my irritation that it wasn’t Edward instead.

But true to form, as my body began to tighten and quicken and build to a climax, he removed the device from me completely. I cried out in frustration, which of course only made Edward’s smirk twitch at the corners even more. He said nothing as he removed the tube of lubricant from his zipper bag, removed the cap and squeezed a huge dollop of it along the length of the vibrator’s wand. I held my breath then, waiting.

He swirled the clear gel up and down the vibrator, coating it completely, then reached his gel-covered fingers between my legs and did the same to my anus. His eyes met mine one last time, telling me to trust him.

I obeyed.

He turned the switch back down to the lowest setting on the vibrator, then touched it to my opening. The vibrations felt good, stimulating the area and making my body begin to pulse against it.

“Hold still,” he whispered softly. He pushed the smooth tapered tip into me, and I felt my body resist. I concentrated on relaxing to allow the wand entrance. I winced slightly as he pushed the smooth plastic further, stretching me open. And then, like before, my sphincter suddenly gave up the fight and let the vibrator slide neatly inside.

“There we go,” Edward said with satisfaction. He began pushing in a slow rhythm again, one I appreciated this time, as he worked the rod deeper inside. My moans were lower, throatier while I adjusted to this new and different type of pleasure. I couldn’t deny that it felt amazing, and the more he worked, the more my body seemed to relax and enjoy the vibrations and the sensation of being filled.

“How does it feel?” he murmured, even though my non-verbal cues were telling the tale.

“So good. Unbelievably good,” I sighed.

He quickened the rhythm of the device then, and my body responded in kind, lifting gently to meet each thrust.

“It looks amazing. So hot,” he whispered hoarsely. He began stroking his erection with his free hand while he worked the vibrator with the other. I longed to do the stroking for him, to touch him and take him in my mouth. Instead I could only watch while he masturbated in time to the vibrator pushing inside me.

And then, just when I was getting used to the routine, he upped the ante by releasing his own cock and stroking my clitoris instead. I cried out anew as he worked me front and back, fondling my clit while driving the vibrator deep in my ass.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, feeling like one of those wanton adult film stars I used to laugh at. Every nerve was being stimulated beyond capacity, sending me into some kind of sexual overdrive. Edward responded instantly, his fingers working feverishly against my clit while he turned up the speed on the vibrator so that my rectum shook with each thrust.

I began to utter mindless moans and profanities, wondering if Edward had infected me with his proclivity for swearing. I wanted to free my hands so I could push him away; to stop the overwhelming intensity before it destroyed me. My whole body arched rigidly, my legs trying to come together, but thwarted by his muscular arms in their way.

“Edward . . . please,” I sobbed. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to stop. I knew that if I simply uttered that word, he would cease immediately.

I didn’t want him to.

His fingers were inside my vagina now, fucking me in time with the vibrator. I gasped and groaned and sobbed. I undulated shamelessly before him. My worthless hands clutched at the empty air.

And then I came. I came harder than I’ve ever come before. The orgasm ripped through me in violent spasms, every muscle clenching around the sources of ecstasy within me. My head fell back and I made primal noises over which I had no control. I vaguely heard Edward groan along with me, evidently as moved by my total abandon as I was.

The blood pounded through my ears and all sound was muffled for a minute or two. I lay stunned and panting while Edward slowed the movements of his hands, gently massaging me back down to a semblance of calm. I blinked and looked up at him; his gaze reflected the intensity of what had just happened. He looked at me with something akin to wonder. There was no aura of cockiness or self-congratulation for a job well done. Instead, he looked oddly humbled.

He turned off the artificial device and gently removed it from my body. He wrapped it in paper towels and dropped it back in the Zip-lock bag, sealing it shut before stowing it back in the sex toy bag.

He knelt down and began kissing and stroking my trembling body, massaging me soothingly, masterfully, as only he can. By the time he brought his face to mine, I had managed to wind down to a state of spent euphoria.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said before giving me a soft kiss.

“You’re the one who just sent me to another dimension,” I argued gently.

“That’s only because you let me do it,” he said. He ran his fingertips, feather-light, over the skin of my cheek, my jaw, my neck. “You let go completely. You let me take you there. Do you have any idea what that means to me?”

I shook my head slightly. I didn’t, really. To Edward, trusting him with my body must be proof of my trust in him, period. And if that was what this kind of sex meant to him, then it was time for me to test his ability to do the same.

“I never even knew I could feel something like that. So intense. So beyond anything I could have imagined,” I answered. “Only you could have done that for me.”

Our eyes met and shared something too deep to put into words.

“Will you let me do that for you?” I whispered at last.

It was his turn to fall silent. He merely nodded. Then he raised himself up and reached for the zipper bag again, withdrawing a key from inside it. He crawled up toward the cuffs and unlocked them, rubbing and kissing each wrist after he released them from their metal bracelets.

“Are you sure you want to set me free already?” I asked with a teasing note to my voice. “You could have taken advantage of my helplessness in lots of other ways. You didn’t even take any pleasure for yourself.” I glanced down at his unsatisfied penis, still partially rigid and probably wondering when its turn was coming.

His lop-sided grin returned. “If you don’t think I got any pleasure out of what just happened, then you don’t know me nearly as well as I thought.”

“You know what I mean,” I insisted, finally bringing my gratefully free hands up to stroke his face. “I would have let you do a lot more.”

He took a deep breath, and I knew he was imagining all the ways he could have taken me. He shook his head and let out a short laugh. “I won’t forget that offer. I promise to take advantage of it in the future.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, losing my hands in his hair. “I won’t let you go unsatisfied tonight. I think you may enjoy my payback.”

He let out a tiny growl. “Like I said, I look forward to your retaliation.”

He covered my mouth in a kiss, which I happily returned. He let his body melt into mine, pressing me into the pillows; and then we rolled off of them and onto the mattress, clutching at one another as we kept the kiss going.

At last I rolled him onto his back. I let my kisses stray all over his beautiful face, down his rough beard to his neck. He sighed and ran his hands up and down my body, pulling me tighter to him. His cock was hard and ready, and I could feel it teasing the tingling flesh between my legs. It would be so easy to just go with it; to pull him inside and ride him until we both shuddered to a climax.

Too easy.

Too easy for tonight, anyway. Tonight was about something else.

I grabbed a pair of the cuffs that still lay on the corner of the mattress, near the headboard. I dangled them over Edward’s nose and grinned down at him.

“My turn for a little fun,” I said with a wicked grin.

He sighed again, more heavily this time. A sigh of ready submission.

“The pleasure will be mine, I’m sure,” he replied, with a lusty glint in his eye.

I lifted myself off of him and went back to the pillows, fluffing and rearranging them back to their original configuration.

“Are you going to cuff me the same way I did you?” he asked. “You can do other things with the handcuffs, you know.”

A few images flitted through my mind: hands behind his back, or together over his head; or even cuffed to his own ankles. Where am I getting this stuff? I wondered with a slight shudder.

Edward could see that I was thinking of the possibilities. The glint in his eyes had the sharp edge of anticipation now.

“No, I plan to match everything you just did to me. Tit for tat. So to speak,” I said with a smirk not unlike the ones he was so good at giving me.

“I can live with that,” he said, scooting over and settling back on the pillows. “Shackle me, baby. Make me your love slave.”

He had me giggling as I straddled him and finagled the bracelets around his wrists. I’d obviously never used handcuffs before, and they were a little trickier to maneuver than I expected. But by the time the last “click” secured Edward to my headboard, the humor had dissipated on both sides.

We studied each other for a long moment, adjusting to the shift in control. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. He’d probably been in this position before. I couldn’t think about that.

I grasped his face firmly in mine and leaned down to give him a kiss. I found myself kissing him harder, more forcefully than I usually did. It seemed there was something about the temporary imbalance of power that brought hidden desires to the surface. Edward had known this all along. If he was so eager to explore those desires, then I would not disappoint him.

He was panting when I finally ripped my mouth from his. His eyes were already taking on that glassy, unfocused appearance that happened whenever he let sensations and emotions take over his logic. The fire in my belly ignited once more at the sight.

I kissed him again, roughly, invading his mouth thoroughly with my tongue, pulling gently at his lips with my teeth. He groaned and strained at the cuffs, his body pushing up into mine. I was already grinding slowly against him. A little repositioning would be all I needed to take his erection inside me.

Instead, I tore my mouth away again and rose on my knees, pushing my left breast toward his still-open mouth. He reached for it greedily, sucking and tickling it with his tongue. I clutched his hair in my hands and pushed his face against me. He grunted and attacked my breast with renewed fervor; I cried out at the now-familiar sensation of pain mixed with pleasure.

I yanked his head back and twisted slightly, pressing my other nipple to his waiting mouth. He tortured it hungrily while I moaned and kneaded his scalp with my fingers. I thrilled to this new feeling of dominance; of being the one in charge of both my pleasure and his. It was a heady, undeniable high. Now I had a taste of what Edward felt when he had taken that responsibility just moments ago.

I pulled away from him and he gasped for air. I smoothed his hair gently and stared down at him, unable to keep the tiny smile from my lips.

His irrepressible half-grin appeared. “You love this, don’t you. Calling the shots.”

I bit my lip, but my smile grew anyway. “I have to admit, I really do.” I let out a short laugh. “But what I really like is that you love it just as much as I do.”

His smiled faded as his expression became more serious. “I love you. I’m yours to do with as you will.”

I ached with the intensity of my feelings for him in that moment. I felt an actual pang deep in my chest.

I ran the tip of my finger down the side of his face, then traced the pink softness of his lips.

“I own you completely,” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Then you won’t mind if I label you as such,” I said, my smirk returning.

His half-smile was cautious. “Of course not,” he said uncertainly.

I reached for the bottle of Hershey’s syrup, and he let out a relieved chuckle. I slid off of his body and knelt next to him as I pulled up the stopper on the bottle. I aimed it at the top of his chest, and then carefully squeezed the syrup out to spell out the letter “B.”

His body stiffened when the cold chocolate sauce hit his skin, then shook with silent laughter as I continued to label him in large letters down his stomach:


When I got to the end, I made a small arrow on Edward’s abdomen that pointed directly to the tip of his penis, which lay rigidly pointing back at the chocolate brand.

I smiled with satisfaction at my masterpiece while he continued to giggle.

“Now that is a true work of art,” I said, admiring the sight my name spelled out all over Edward’s glorious physique.

“Well, it’s certainly truthful,” he admitted.

“What’s that saying? Art is truth? Truth is art? Whatever,” I said with a dismissive shrug. “All I know is that it looks delicious.”

And then I put my tongue to work, slurping the decadent drizzle off of his skin while he sighed appreciatively. I loved having a reason to run my tongue over every inch of him, feeling the ripples of muscle and bone under his smooth skin as I lapped the syrup from him.

The chocolate made me thirsty, and I was glad that Edward had had the forethought to bring a glass of water into the bedroom with him. By the time I’d licked his torso clean, I’d had enough chocolate to last me a lifetime. But I simply couldn’t resist the temptation to take that last step.

I grabbed the bottle in one hand and grasped Edward’s erection firmly in the other. His breathing quickened as we stared at one another. And then I let a long, languorous stream of syrup drip down over the head of his cock. I watched with fascination as it slowly oozed down the length of him and into my waiting hand.

“I’ll never look at Drumstick ice cream cones the same way again,” I grinned. Edward’s answering chuckle was cut short when my lips closed over the tip of his chocolate-covered dick. I worked my mouth thoroughly up and down his shaft, licking and sucking and lapping up the chocolate until only naked skin remained.

He moaned and began to twist against his restraints as I worked. Soft, mumbled expletives escaped him, and his eyes took on that glazed look again. It was time to go further now; to bring him to the place that he’d taken me. I wanted nothing more than to push him further than he’d ever been pushed, and for his release to be as earth-shattering as mine had been.

Could I do it? I wasn’t sure. But I was ready to rise to the challenge.

Edward certainly had. His cock was fully engorged and twitching with need now. I took him deep in my mouth, trying to relax my throat and swallow more of him than I ever had. He groaned loudly, letting me know how good it felt. I released him, took a long breath and tried again, pushing my lips down the length of him, taking him deep and holding him there until I choked slightly and relinquished him again.

He swore and gave me a look of amazed ecstasy that I would try this for him. It was all the impetus I needed to keep on trying. I added it to my repertoire as I stroked and pumped him with my hands and sucked him deep in my mouth. His legs fell open easily when I pushed against them, and I worked my tongue all around his scrotum and behind, to that taboo place that Edward was so fond of.

But would he welcome the role reversal? Or was his fetish a one-way street?

I heard soft moans as I tickled and teased the area with my hands and mouth. I remembered that when I had done this to him briefly in the shower last weekend, he seemed to like it. Maybe he would surprise me. Maybe he wanted this.

I’d read somewhere that a lot of men loved to have their prostate stimulated, and that the best way to do that was through internal contact. That meant him taking my finger inside him just as I had let him do to me.

I pushed my fingertips experimentally against his opening, gently massaging it in circles. I looked up at him; he stared at me intently. I tried to read his eyes, but I still wasn’t sure.

I crawled back up his body and brought my face close to his. I leaned in and kissed him gently. “You know I want to be inside you as badly as you want to be inside me, don’t you?”

His breaths were sharp and quick. A small battle seemed to wage momentarily in his eyes. He finally swallowed audibly and nodded.

“Are you ready to let me in, Edward?”

“Yes,” he answered hoarsely.

I kissed him again, more deeply this time, forcing the taste of his sex on him as he had done to me. He kissed me back freely, fervently. He was ready. We both were.

I returned to my vantage point between his legs and reached for the tube of lubricant that still lay near the foot of the bed. I squeezed out a generous dollop, coating my index and middle fingers with the slippery substance. I was amazed at how turned on I felt at the prospect of doing this to Edward--entering his body in the most intimate way possible, the way he had already done to me so many times.

His breath was coming in short spurts and his entire body was stiff with anticipation. His wrists pulled helplessly at the handcuffs--unconsciously, it seemed; but his legs remained open for me. His cock strained against his belly. I leaned down and ran my tongue firmly up its underside as I pushed my index finger against the tight circle of his anus. His breath came out in a shuddering gasp and his hips bucked up slightly, pushing the head of his cock into my mouth. I welcomed it freely, swallowing him down deep once again until he swore and groaned in turn.

As I took him in and out of my mouth, tongue and lips working the sensitive head with each pass, I pushed my finger slowly into the snug muscle of his sphincter until it released. His cry was soft as his body relented and gave in to me. I loved the hot tightness of his inner muscles gripping my finger as I pushed it deeper inside him.

I released his cock from my mouth and sat up to look him in the eyes. They were dazed and glassy with desire; pleading for both my possession and my mercy. I held his gaze as I began moving my finger slowly inside him, pulling out a little, then pushing back in, each time a little more forcefully than the last. His breathing matched my rhythm, growing louder with each thrust of my finger, his nostrils flaring to capture more oxygen.

I leaned in closer, my breath teasing his as I spoke.

“You like this, don’t you,” I murmured, my words echoing his from the nights he had penetrated me front and back with his own unrelenting hand.

His weak chuckle was short-lived when I slowly, gingerly pressed my second finger into him, along with the first. He let out a strangled cry as I pushed inexorably upward, curling my fingers into the base of his perineum. The sound of his panting breath was an incredible aphrodisiac to me. I was stunned at how good it felt to invade him this way, to give him the type of ecstasy he was so good at giving me--the type over which it was impossible to have any control. I stroked him firmly, deeply inside his rectum, pushing repeatedly until his endless moans matched my rhythm.

I stretched up and leaned my free hand on the bed next to Edward’s chest, bringing my face close to his. I reached back into my memory banks and found more of his words that I could aim and fire back at him.

“I’m going to give you the most amazing orgasm you’ve ever had,” I promised. “I’m going to make you come like you’ve never come before.”

“Christ,” he swore, his blasphemy ending in yet another groan. “I don’t doubt that one bit.”

I kissed him then, my tongue moving in cadence with the ministrations of my fingers. I palmed his balls, squeezing them against his cheeks as I worked. I was unbelievably high on the power I felt as he kissed me desperately, his wrists struggling against the immovable cuffs while his hips surged rhythmically into my hands.

So this was what it truly felt like to be the one in control, able to give ecstasy or withhold it at will. I was shocked at how humbling it was--not to him, but to me.

I had no desire to toy with him or take his pleasure away. In fact, having him so totally at my mercy made me feel more benevolent than I’d ever felt before. I’d never wanted so much for him to feel only amazing, thrilling, unforgettable things at my hands. His happiness and satisfaction only heightened my own. Once again the lines were blurred. His ecstasy was mine.

“I’m so in love with you,” I sighed as I broke our kiss. “Every part of you. Every inch of you. I want you to feel it in every cell of your body. I want you to know it, deep down, like you’ve never known anything in your life.”

The words seemed too small to encompass my true feelings, but I had to try. The expression in his eyes was so full, it was nearly unreadable.

“Make me feel it,” he whispered hoarsely. It wasn’t an order so much as a plea, but I treated it as an imperative.

My lips trailed along his jaw, my tongue tracing the jutting bones down to the straining veins and sinews of his neck. I reached down and grasped his cock in my free hand, then began moving my hands in unison, stroking him inside and out. They never released their charge, ceaselessly massaging his most vulnerable parts as my lips worked their way down his body. I repositioned myself as I went, leaning and bending to suck his nipples into hard buttons, then lick the curls of hair that dotted his chest and thickened down his belly. My tongue swirled inside his bellybutton, tickling and teasing on its way down to the swollen head of his cock.

I tongued its tip while my hand pumped the shaft, and his moans took on a tinge of desperation. I doused him thoroughly with saliva, then pulled my mouth away and concentrated on the motion of my hands, watching with fascination as my fingers repeatedly disappeared deep between his cheeks and his genitals darkened with increasing arousal. I gripped his cock a little harder than I usually did, pushing forcefully down toward his scrotum while my fingers inside him did the same. I continued bringing my hands together this way, squeezing his balls in between, applying more pressure from all directions until his hips bucked helplessly in response.

“Holy fuck!” he finally exploded with a broken cry. “What are you doing to me?”

A tiny smile played at my lips. The question was rhetorical. He knew exactly what I was doing: pushing him to his limits. Intensifying his pleasure until he wasn’t sure if it was pain. It was the test was he wanted of me, and of himself.

I had found his threshold, and I balanced there precariously for as long as possible. I fondled him faster, rougher, more ruthlessly than I ever had before. The only sounds I heard were the friction of wet skin on skin, ragged breaths and animal grunts of ecstasy.
His engorged cock swelled and leaked fluid onto my busy fingers, and I knew he was close.

“I want to watch you come for me,” I whispered, the intensity of my tone surprising even me as I worked him into a lather. “I want to see that cock erupt all over the both of us.”

His eyes were wild, almost disbelieving as he stared into mine, then at my hands, bringing him to the brink. His breathing was labored, his arms straining so hard at the handcuffs that I thought he might break my headboard.

It was the most intensely erotic thing I had ever seen.

“Give it to me,” I ordered in a low voice as I milked his swollen member to the breaking point. “Give me every ounce of your cum.”

His moan was one of total surrender as his eyes squeezed shut and his head fell back on the pillows. When his cock twitched violently in my hand, I let go of it, right at its moment of climax. It convulsed helplessly in the air before emitting its first viscous stream of semen; then pulsed with another, and another, and countless more in perfect time to the thrusts of my fingers inside him.

He cursed and jerked and moaned, each breath a sob of euphoria that was music to my ears. I sat staring at him, somewhat stunned, as he rode out his orgasm, the longest I’d ever witnessed. I had never seen anything sexier than his total abandon in that moment.

I stared dumbly at his spent and sweaty form before me, hands hanging limply in their restraints, torso decorated with ribbons of glistening ejaculate. I was enthralled at what I had just done to him, and the intensity with which he had responded. I tried to convey the depth of my emotion with my eyes when his head fell forward and he gazed at me from under heavy lids. I decided to tell him with my actions instead.

I slowly withdrew my fingers from inside him and wiped them with a nearby paper towel; then I knelt down and lapped at his dripping member while he groaned anew. I cleaned every bit of semen from him with meticulous thoroughness, licking it from his stomach and chest after I’d sucked every drop from his cock. I relished its bitter taste in my mouth as much as I had the chocolate earlier. It was a part of him, and I wanted every part equally--the good, the bad, and everything in between.

By the time I neared his face, his expression was still a bit shell-shocked.

“You’re unbelievable,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “That you would do that for me. . . ”

I traced the rugged line of his jaw, then the soft skin of his cheek.

“I’d do anything for you.” I kissed him gently; his eyes closed as if in denial.

“But that was . . . “ His words fell away and he shook his head.

“. . . no different than the mind-blowing things you’ve done for me,” I finished for him.

“But most girls wouldn’t--”

“I’m not most girls,” I cut him off sharply this time before he could say the words.

“No,” he agreed. He closed his eyes again and leaned his face into my hand, slowly rubbing the prickly stubble of his jaw down my palm. He sighed and finally said, “You’re so much more than I deserve.”

His eyes were self-condemning. I knew that look all too well. My heart sank.

“Don’t do this,” I warned. “I’m not going to sit here and argue with you about what you do or don’t deserve. The fact is that I love you, and I love making love to you. That’s not going to change, so you might as well accept it.”

He gave me his half-smile, but I could see that his heart wasn’t in it. The sight of it nearly broke my own.

I reached for the handcuffs key on the nightstand, but froze in place when I heard his next words.

“Why did you let me hit you earlier?”

Every hair on my body prickled in shock. I turned my head slowly back to his penitent stare.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice low and hollow.

I bristled anew and affixed my indignant eyes on his. “You didn’t hit me. You slapped my ass a few times before we had sex. That’s called foreplay in most circles.”

He shook his head, his smile bitter this time. “I went too far. You should have stopped me.”

I grasped his face in mine and held it a little too firmly. I was so upset with him that I could feel tears fighting their way to the corners of my eyes.

“If you had gone too far, trust me, I would have stopped you. You have never done anything to me that I didn’t want you to. Do you understand that?”

I wasn’t sure if he did. He still had that unworthy look in his eyes. He answered my query with one of his own.

“So will you do something that I want, if I ask you to?”

I didn’t know how to answer. It felt like a trick question. I finally nodded, ever so slightly.

“I want you to hit me back.”

No. No, no, no. I didn’t just hear that.

My eyes squeezed shut in denial; to block out the self-loathing in his eyes. My head began to shake back and forth in refusal.

“Look at me, Bella,” he ordered. Though he was the one restrained, I obeyed. His eyes were filled with grim determination now. “I need you to do it. Tit for tat. Payback. It’s your turn and I want you to take it.”

“Stop it,” I said, my voice quaking with fear and anger. I reached for the key again but he lurched up against me, jostling me so that I lost my balance and had to put my hand on the bed to catch myself instead.

“Hit me,” he demanded again through gritted teeth. “Spank me, slap me, fucking punch me in the face. I don’t care. Just do it.”

I stared at him in escalating horror. He was serious. His eyes seethed with a sort of crazed desperation that I’d never seen before. His fists clenched and pulled at the handcuffs.

“I’m not going to hit you,” I refused, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “I love you.”

“If you love me you’ll do it,” he insisted. “You’ll make us even. I can’t live with myself otherwise.”

I stared into his eyes, uncomprehending. He really believed what he was saying. For the first time since I’d known him, I was truly, deeply afraid. Not because of what he might do to me, but because of what he was doing to himself.

My stunned impotence was shattered by the sudden shaking of the bed as Edward gave the handcuffs a furious yank, punctuated with a frustrated howl. I jerked back in renewed shock, leaning away from his straining body. He looked into my horrified face, his own twisting with pain.

“Please,” he begged weakly.

Hot tears spilled down my face, one from each eye. I stared helplessly at him, utterly speechless. This was the first time I’d ever felt completely incapable of giving him what he wanted.

“Why won’t you give me what I have coming to me?” he said in frustrated defeat, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall.

I sniffed and wiped away my own. “Because I don’t have any reason to punish you,” I said, bringing the suspicions I’d buried out into the light. This had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with her. I didn’t know if Tanya was alive or dead, and it didn’t really matter. Her ghost lingered between us regardless.

“Whomever you need absolution from, it’s not me,” I told him quietly.

Edward’s face crumpled. He tried to fight the tears and lost. I reached for the key; he didn’t stop me this time. I unlocked the metal circles that bound him and circled my arms around him instead. He buried his face in my shoulder and sobbed silently, his tears hot on my skin. My own fell freely in his hair. He clutched me to him and I rocked him gently in my arms; my sweet, beautiful, haunted boy.

“Do you remember what you asked me the first night we were together?” I whispered at last, stroking his hair. “When you’d had too much to drink and didn’t censor what you said?”

“No, what?” he muttered hoarsely.

“You said, ’Let me love you,’” I reminded him. “And I did.”

He made no reply. I pulled away slightly and cradled his face in my hand, making him look at me.

“Please let me love you back,” I said quietly.

He looked like he might cry again, and I felt as if I could; but we had already shed too many tears for one night.

At last he nodded. I touched my lips to his; it felt like a covenant sealed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I wanted to shake my head; to tell him, “Don’t be.” But I let Edward have his apology, since he needed to give it so badly - even if it fell on the wrong ears.

I kissed him again, then suggested we take a shower. He followed me silently to the bathroom and we washed the evening’s stains away.

He helped me outfit the bed with clean sheets and fresh pillowcases to cradle our heads. We curled ourselves into one being and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.


It’s funny how things always look different in the morning light.

Today the sun seemed to bring with it a tranquil peace when it shone through my bedroom window. Gone were the tension and trials of the night before. When Edward’s eyes met mine this morning, I knew that we had passed the test.

One of them, anyway.

Today was about finding our present and future together, even though we used the past to do it.

In fact, today was mostly about you, Mom.

Edward wanted to look through all your old records, and not surprisingly, a lot of them were the same ones he inherited from his aunt Jeanne. We listened to them all day while I showed him our old photo albums. You should have seen his face. He was so interested in hearing about you and Phil and Dad, and my old friends from when I was a kid. It’s like he couldn’t get enough of my stories about the good times from my past, most of them spent with you.

He asked to see your old guitar, so I dragged it out of its dusty closet corner and let him tune it. The poor old instrument needs new strings, but it didn’t sound too bad by the time he was done tinkering with it.

He played and sang along with some of the old records, and I sat cross-legged on the carpet across from him, completely enthralled. I even chimed in a time or two, which Edward loved. He was far too complimentary of my meager singing abilities. He puts me to shame in that regard. But he seemed inordinately excited to hear me pick out some harmonies, and the more he encouraged me, the more confident I became. I could feel you in that moment, smiling down on me; on us. Maybe you were.

He gave me another impromptu guitar lesson, too. He taught me all the chords to “A Case Of You.” You’re in my blood like holy wine, you taste so bitter and so sweet . . . Oh I could drink a case of you darling and still be on my feet. . .* All I have to do is practice my finger-picking. I think I’m getting the hang of playing again, slowly but surely. The guitar doesn’t feel so alien in my lap anymore. Edward says he’s going to restring it for me so I can practice on my own.

He’s so good to me, Mom. It kills me when he thinks he isn’t. I wish I knew how to heal him the way he has me. I wish he would let me.

We made love only once today, when we woke up. He treated me like I was made of hand-spun glass, careful and reverent. Even so, we managed to twist the sheets until we tossed them aside, letting the morning sun spill its light over our naked bodies melding together. He was so beautiful in those golden rays that I wanted to weep.

As he moved sensuously all over me and inside me, I reached down without warning and gave him one hard, loud slap across both cheeks. Startled, he stopped and looked anxiously into my eyes.

“There,” I said with finality. “We’re even.”

He eyes softened gratefully; his lip turned upward in the slightest of smiles. Then he continued making love to me until we both reached our favorite pinnacle. We took the leap together, unafraid of the landing.

We would be there to catch each other.

*“A Case Of You” by Joni Mitchell, copyright 1970.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Massage Therapy, Chapter 17 - Test, part 2

From the Desktop of Bella Swan
Sunday, August 29

When Edward is sleeping, I can imagine what he must have looked like as a boy.

His furrows are smoothed, his fine lines softened into an untroubled landscape. His lips and cheeks are still translucent pink, eyelashes inordinately long. The hallmarks of a child’s beauty still linger in the blueprint of his adult face. I long to see photographs of Edward when he was young and carefree, still unspoiled by life’s harsher lessons.

That vestige of long-lost innocence held me in its spell as I watched him sleep on my sofa. The early-morning massage appointments, rigorous tennis match and punishing sex that followed had taken their toll. We had settled on the couch after our kitchen tryst, wrapped in a silent cocoon of each other’s arms and our own thoughts, before Edward grew drowsy and I encouraged him to take a nap. He insisted I lay with him, and I was happy to oblige for awhile, feeling each breath he took rumble in his chest before stirring the hair on my neck.

I was wide awake, thinking. Pondering. Trying to figure out why Edward always pushed our boundaries in the sexual arena and nowhere else. Maybe that was the place where words weren’t as important; where he could simply take action and be in control.

I wondered where he would have taken our game if I hadn’t sucked the wind out of his sails. Did he really bring sex toys to my house this weekend? If so, what kind? I doubted they would be anything that would really shock me. I had already crossed the line with him that first night, when he literally had me up against the wall. In that telltale moment, I had made the decision that I would follow wherever he led me. I had given my body, my heart and my soul to him willingly. So what was he still fighting for?

I wasn’t sure, but I had no doubt that he was struggling. The fear was in his eyes again. The same fear that Rosalie had once spoken of seeing when she looked at him--the fear I saw the first night I saw him sing. Something was changing . . . escalating. I felt the fear seeping into me through osmosis. But I wasn’t afraid for myself. I was afraid for him.

I stroked the soft hair at his temple and touched my lips to his in butterfly kisses. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile and his arms tightened around me, but he didn’t awaken. There was no greater feeling than the one I had in that moment, knowing that even unconsciously, I made him smile.

I wanted nothing more than to erase Edward’s sadness; to make him forget whatever was plaguing him, at least for a little while. Having the power to do that, even temporarily, was not one I took lightly. He had done the same for me many times over. I was ready to do whatever he asked--or demanded--of me. I didn’t feel ashamed of my acquiescence because I would be asking for his as well.

He had told me that sex was a two-way street--all about give and take. To me, every aspect of a relationship should to be that way, not just the sex. I was willing to give, and I expected him to do the same in return. He hadn’t disappointed me so far.

Except for not revealing to me what was eating away at his soul, of course. I was torn between wanting to know everything about his past and enjoying my ignorant bliss awhile longer. I had the feeling this was one of those times when I should be careful what I wished for.

Hunger pangs began to gnaw at me as I lay wrapped in Edward’s embrace. I looked over his shoulder to the clock on the wall and saw that it would soon be time for dinner. I decided that I should fix something substantial, because I was sure he would be ravenous when he awoke.

I also suspected that our evening was going to be an intense one. Like last Saturday night, I knew that he was not finished with me. This would be another weekend of exploration, of pushing boundaries and getting to know one another even more intimately.

“Bring it on, Mister Cullen,” I whispered softly in his ear. “I’m ready for you.”

He made a low, throaty sound but remained asleep. I chuckled a little as I tried to gently extricate myself from his grip, but as I slid out of his arms and let my feet drop to the floor, he scowled and grabbed for me in earnest.

“Where are you going?” he murmured, eying me through heavy lids.

“To make us some dinner. Don’t get up. I’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

The smile played at the corner of his lips again. “You are the most awesome girlfriend ever.”

“Yes, I am, and don’t you forget it.”


I pulled the nearby afghan over his shirtless torso before I kissed him on the tip of the nose and made my way to the kitchen.

The first thing I noticed was the tablecloth, wrinkled and completely askew from the primal acts that had taken place on its surface. I smoothed and straightened it out of habit, then realized with chagrin that it needed to be thrown in the hamper after having my naked body thrust repeatedly against its surface.

Goosebumps rose on my skin at the memory. It wasn’t a regretful shudder, but a delicious shiver. I wondered why I didn’t feel more humiliated at being spanked like a child before being fucked like a whore. Or maybe I did feel humiliated, but perversely enjoyed the debasement. Perhaps on some deeply subconscious level, I felt I deserved the punishment, for transgressions long gone but not forgotten. And maybe Edward was provoking me into retaliation--waiting for me to strike back and give him the treatment he thought he deserved.

I tried now to dissect what I’d been feeling as Edward’s slaps to my ass had continued, methodical and deliberate, hard and unrelenting. The resulting sensations had forced me to teeter on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain until the line between them began to blur, one becoming indistinguishable from the other.

I’d been undeniably turned on by his show of dominance. My groin was throbbing with want and thick with cream by the time he impaled me with his cock. I had felt like a cat in heat, panting to be taken, reveling in the sensation of his body possessing mine. Every hard slap of his torso against my ass was reminiscent of the smacks from his hands--pushing my body to the brink of pain with the intensity of its pleasure. He liked bringing me to the edge; dangling me there on the precipice until I fell with him, always on the side of ecstasy.

I had enjoyed teasing him too, the times I had gone down on him. Giving and withholding pleasure; making him wait until I was ready for him to come. Was that so different than what he had done to me this afternoon? We were already mastering the art of give and take, yet Edward still seemed intent on testing our limits.

Fine. I could test his limits, too. I had the feeling that’s what he was after anyway, when all was said and done. He was waiting for me to push back.

As I began poking around in the refrigerator, I decided that I was probably over-thinking things. I doubted Edward had ever sat around analyzing our sex life thus far. He had probably reasoned it down to the basic fact that he loved fucking me, and I loved it too. We should just enjoy ourselves, do whatever felt good and forego whatever didn’t. My life would probably easier if I thought like a man more often.

After a quick inventory of the kitchen, I discovered I had the ingredients to make a simple version of Italian chicken with some rice pilaf and veggies on the side. I hummed contentedly to myself the entire time I prepared the meal. I like cooking for Edward, just as I did for Charlie. Men are so easy to please in that respect. They always seem inordinately grateful for even the simplest offering.

Chicken in the oven, broccoli and rice on the stove, I left the kitchen unattended for a moment to throw on some real clothes. I refused to sit at the table and eat dinner in my underwear, regardless of the fact that they might be coming off again right after the meal. Besides, this pair was ruined with the evidence of our last bout of love-making.

As I threw them in the hamper along with the kitchen tablecloth, I prayed again that my birth control pills had been doing their job this past week. I had gone from zero to one-eighty in the sex department in just eight days. When I stopped to think about how much sex I’d been having, I was a little stunned. Was that normal for a couple who had just gotten together? I supposed it was. Sort of the “honeymoon” phase of a new relationship.

Then again, since when did Edward and I ever qualify as “normal” anyway?

The cooking smells permeating the apartment must have awakened him, because he was standing next to the sofa, yawning and stretching, when I emerged from the bedroom. He looked more like a lion than ever, mane awry in every direction, ubiquitous scruff sprouting from his face and neck.

He was magnificent.

“You knock me out,” I whispered, half to myself, as our eyes met.

“What’s that?” he asked as he approached, arms outstretched to me.

“Nothing. I’m a lucky girl, that’s all,” I sighed as I allowed myself to be enfolded in his embrace. I hugged him close and laid my cheek against his chest, taking comfort in the beat of his heart beneath my ear.

“Always backwards,” he teased softly, his fingers stroking my hair. “Especially when I wake up to delicious smells like this. I can’t believe you cooked for me again.”

“Why wouldn’t I? We have to eat. And I have yet to see you attempt anything more
than a sandwich.” I grinned up at him, and the sight of him so close nearly knocked me out again.

“I’m going to fix my grilled salmon for you sometime, and make you eat your words along with it.” He grinned back down at me as his hands gently cupped the sides of my face, then combed through the hair behind my ears. His touch still undid me completely. I wondered if I would ever be immune.

“Promises, promises,” I said with a slight roll of my eyes.

“Hey, that’s how I got Lucky to stick around. Maybe it’ll work on you, too.”

I shook my head in exasperation. “I think your other methods have already done the trick.”

He answered with only a self-satisfied “hmm” before giving me a sweet, languorous kiss. It was all I could do to pull away from him to go check on dinner. He tagged along close behind, his hand refusing to relinquish my waist. He hovered over my shoulder as I checked on the chicken, then peered down into the dishes while I stirred and seasoned them some more.

“Looks great,” he said appreciatively. “I’m famished.”

“I wonder why,” I retorted with the quirk of an eyebrow as I turned to face him. My eyes raked over his long leanness, clad only in slate gray boxer briefs.

“Why don’t you put on some clothes for dinner?” I suggested as my gaze hovered helplessly over his bare torso in my face. “Unless you want me to end up using you as my plate.”

His eyebrows shot up and that irresistible smirk possessed his mouth. “Funny you should mention that. I have very special plans of that nature for dessert.”

A surge of adrenaline raced through me as I raised questioning eyes to his.

“You still haven’t snooped in my backpack, have you?” he asked. He sounded almost annoyed. “How many hints does a guy have to drop?”

I ignored the familiar little dance my nerves were doing down my spine and through my groin. I narrowed my eyes at him and said, “Don’t worry. I plan to do a thorough inspection after dinner. You’re obviously dying for me to find out just how perverted you really are.”

His grin was truly devilish then, even while he feigned innocence. “I’m not perverted at all. I’m only interested in giving you complete and unadulterated pleasure.”

Sweet Jesus. “You already do that,” I informed him, as if he didn’t already know.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” he murmured, leaning closer and giving me a look so provocative that I was ready to disrobe and have a go with him on the countertop next.

“I’ll bet you are,” I answered hoarsely before I gave him a gentle shove. He really did need to take his naked, smirky, sexy self away from me before dinner was ruined. I wondered if he had any idea how deeply he affected me, even more so now that we were intimate. His nearness was almost more than I could take sometimes.

Edward let out a defeated sigh, then went to the living room to retrieve his clothes while I set the table. By the time he returned, I was pulling the chicken from the oven. He helped me carry the dishes to the table, then sat down and filled his plate with enough rations to feed a small platoon.

“Do you want a salad, or bread, or fruit or anything?” I asked him, worried that I hadn’t fixed enough food.

“No, I’m fine. This is so good,” he mumbled through a mouthful of chicken.

“Okay,” I said with a small laugh. Even after Charlie’s roughest days on the police beat, he never ate this much. But I liked the fact that Edward had stopped having impeccable manners in front of me. It wasn’t in him to be a slob, but he was clearly comfortable enough to chow down when he was hungry and not worry about what I thought.

“Is something wrong?” he asked me.

“No. Why?”

“You’re not eating,” he pointed out. Then, suddenly, he bolted from his chair. “Shit, I forgot the wine. I’m sorry,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the living room again. Apparently wine was one of the weekend provisions he’d brought with him.

“That’s fine, we don’t need it,” I hollered after him, but he was already back and fishing glasses out of the cabinet by the time I was done.

“Of course we do. A dinner this good deserves a nice glass of wine to go with it,” he insisted.

I shrugged and decided maybe a couple of drinks would be a good idea before I faced the more questionable contents of Edward’s backpack. I thanked him as he set two generous glassfuls on the table and settled back in his chair.

“By the way, where did that nice tablecloth go?” he teased, referring to the bare wood tabletop.

“I thought that perhaps it would be in poor taste to eat dinner off of it after we just had sex on it.”

He crooked his half-grin at me and said, “I would have had absolutely no problem with that.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know me well,” he smiled. It was that secret sort of smile only a lover can give. The kind that causes all sorts of tingles and flutters to invade various parts of my body.

It was also the kind that suddenly made me ask myself, how well do I know him? My split second of uncertainty at the answer brought on flutters of an entirely different nature.

He didn’t seem to notice my uneasy pause. “Let’s make a toast to that,” he suggested, raising his wine glass.

“To what, exactly?” I asked, lifting my glass to his.

“To knowing each other even better,” he said. His eyes seemed to be searching mine for something. Or maybe offering me something instead.

“To knowing each other completely.” I gave him a pointed look as I clinked my glass against his.

He hesitated briefly before echoing me. “Completely.”

We continued to stare at each other as we sipped and swallowed to seal the deal.

“So, what are you doing for Labor Day?” he asked in an offhand manner, as if changing the subject wasn’t a relief for him.

I had to stop and think. “A week from Monday, right? Well, I guess I’ll still be recovering from the music festival on Saturday,” I said with a laugh. I was actually looking forward to my first real find for Java Noise headlining a big local show. I could feel that Vegan Vamps were on the verge of a breakthrough beyond the local scene, and a lot was riding on their performance next Saturday night.

“Right,” Edward said in acknowledgement. “So, how would you feel about recovering with me at my parents’ house that day?” he asked hesitantly.

“You mom and dad want us to come over?” My heart leapt a little at the prospect. Surely Edward wanting me to spend more time with his family was a good sign. And the fact that they liked me enough to invite me into their home had to be a good sign, too.

“Yeah, you know my mom. Any occasion to throw a little party and she’s all over it like white on rice,” he said with a fond chuckle. “She wants all of us kids to bring our significant others over for a barbecue or something. It’s kind of a send-off for Alice before she goes to grad school. What do you think?”

I could feel my face practically beaming. “I think that sounds great. I’d love to come. I’m going to miss Alice, though,” I added.

“I will, too” he said wistfully. “Except when she’s being a colossal pain in my ass,” he amended with a grin. His smile faded a little and he gave me a concerned look. “Rosalie’s invited, too. I hope that won’t be too awkward.”

I bristled slightly and took a couple sips of wine. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see how this week goes at work before I get too worried about it. I’m still blown away at what she did. What does Emmett think about the stunt she pulled?” I wondered suddenly.

Edward frowned. “I haven’t spoken to him yet. I’m curious to know if she even told him. Surely she did. She’d have to know that if she didn’t, I would.”

“Well, if she’s not honest with him at this stage in their relationship, there’s not much hope for their future together,” I commented. “I mean, she can’t keep something that big from him and think she’ll get away with it.”

Edward’s frown deepened, and his eyes grew distant as he stabbed at his food with his fork.

What are you hiding from me? I wondered. How bad could it be? Don’t you know that I’ll love you no matter what?

I could feel the words on the edge of my tongue, waiting to be spoken. But as he continued to avoid my gaze by concentrating intently on his meal, I knew I couldn’t utter them. I didn’t want to push. Fate would eventually force his hand, just as it had mine when I’d nearly killed Lucky and could no longer keep my past trauma inside. All I could do now was be there for him when he reached the tipping point.

“You’re Emmett’s brother,” I continued. “She has to know that you two will talk. I’d love to hear her explanation to him for why she railroaded you the way she did.”

Edward finally raised guarded eyes to mine. “I think I’m just going to drop a couple of hints the next time I see him, to find out how much he knows. Hopefully Rosalie came clean on her own. I don’t think I should be the one to do it for her.”

I decided it was time to steer the conversation away from this sore subject. “Well, regardless of what’s going on with her, I’m looking forward to spending some time with your family. I like your mom and dad. I want to get to know them better.”

Edward finally smiled at that. “I’m sure the feeling is mutual. Brace yourself for the inquisition.”

I only laughed. “You have the weirdest view of your parents. They’ve been nothing but nice to me so far.”

“And I’m sure they’ll continue being perfectly polite while they grill you about your long-term life goals, and how many kids you’d like to have one day,” he warned with a grin.

“Well, that’s easy: work my way up to being President of Java Noise, then have two-point-five kids.”

“I’m glad you have it all figured out,” Edward said with an impressed-looking raise of his eyebrows. “Let’s nix the half-a-child idea, though, okay? We don’t need that kind of challenge.”

We. He was talking about a long-term future in terms of “we.” First came his teasing about marriage, and now children? We’d been dating a mere week. But as Edward and I exchanged that secret smile again, I couldn’t imagine wanting those things with anyone else.

We kept the conversation light during the rest of dinner. Edward asked if it was okay to bring the gang to the Seattle Music Fest next weekend if they promised not to bug me while I was working. I assured him that there wasn’t a lot for me to do except make sure that everything was running smoothly between Vegan Vamps and the event promoters. Rosalie and I would see to it that the band got their allotted sound check time and were able to set up properly for the show. We would be there for trouble-shooting more than anything else. The band’s management would take care of a lot of the hands-on work.

By the time I was done explaining our duties and describing how excited I was to see my first pet project headline a festival, Edward had cleaned his plate. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, grinning and staring me down with those penetrating eyes of his.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I finally demanded as I finished up my own dinner.

“I love how excited you get when you talk about your work,” he smiled. “You have such passion for what you do. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

I gave him an embarrassed smile back. “That’s one of my favorite things about you too, you know. You care about what you do, and it shows. I’m living proof.”

For a brief moment, he looked as if he was going to argue with me about it. But then he said simply, “Thanks.”

I began cleaning up the dishes and Edward was quick to help me carry them to the sink. He offered to help me wash them, but I suggested we leave them for later. I didn’t want to do chores. I wanted to drink more wine and find out what he was planning for this mysterious “dessert” of his, which apparently involved one or both of us being used as the serving dish. I allowed my mind to wander a little further down that decadent road now that supper was finished and night was falling.

“Thank you for feeding me, by the way. That was delicious,” he declared, wrapping his arm around my waist and leaning down for a peck on the cheek. “It was so good I almost didn’t leave room for dessert.”

“The operative word being ‘almost,’ right?” I replied with an askance look up at him.

“I always have room when it comes to my appetite for you,” he replied suggestively as he steered me toward the living room.

“Hmm. So are you trying to tell me that I’m the last course?”

“That’s the plan. But I’ll need your complete cooperation in order for it to work,” he said, in that mildly ominous tone he liked to drape in velvet so that it was more agreeable.

“You mean, my submission?” I clarified. We were nearing the couch now, where Edward’s belongings lay.

His lips twitched as he fought the smirk. “Only for a little while. And then I’ll give you mine.”

I bit my lip, unable to quell my rising apprehension. Or was it excitement? The blood was pulsing between my legs as I sat down on the sofa, next to the backpack. Edward sat on the other side. We looked at the innocent black nylon bag, then at each other.

“Okay, let’s see what we have here,” I said, trying to keep my voice nonchalant. I unzipped the backpack and looked down at what appeared to be nothing but a couple changes of clothing. I reached in and pulled out jeans, t-shirts and briefs, uncovering two zipped bags at the bottom of the backpack. Inspection of the first revealed that it contained the usual mundane toiletries. My heart began to thud erratically as I pulled out the second bag and slowly opened it.

A glint of shiny silver was the first thing I saw as I drew back the zipper. The round, connected circles of metal that met my eyes were quickly identifiable as handcuffs. My heart picked up its pace as the reality of what was about to happen began to set in.

I gingerly pulled them out and dangled them between us while Edward warily studied my face, waiting for my reaction.

“Handcuffs,” I managed to comment, trying to sound blasé. “You really own a pair of handcuffs?”

“Two pair, actually,” he replied smoothly, glancing at the bag. “One for each hand. They should work well with your headboard.”

My heart was racing now, as were my thoughts. I peered down into the bag and sure enough, the second pair was right there on top. I removed them from the bag and set them with their mate on top of the coffee table. I took a deep breath and looked to see what else he had in store for me.

Something encased in a zip-lock bag was next. I grasped the bag in slightly trembling fingers and pulled it out into the light where I could see the contents.

I was greeted with the sight of a pale pink vibrator. It consisted of a smooth, slender wand attached to a handle with a multi-speed switch on it. I stared at it a moment, immediately wondering what he planned to do with it. Its girth was nowhere near that of his own penis, which made me suspect he was not interested in stimulating my vagina with it.

I raised a knowing eyebrow at him, but his face remained a mask of anxious expectation. He was waiting for me to finish.

There were only two more items in the bag. The first answered my question about the vibrator, because it was a tube of personal lubricant. The second made me laugh out loud.

“Hershey’s chocolate syrup?” I exclaimed. It was so ordinary, so harmless-looking compared to the other sex props that I couldn’t help but erupt in nervous laughter. Suddenly the picture of what he wanted to do became perfectly clear.

“It reminds me of your eyes,” he said with a cautious smile.

“My eyes?” I said with a humorous snort. But when I looked up at Edward, I could see he was serious.

“I think it will look good on you,” he said softly, seductively. “And taste even better.”

My heart picked up its pace again as I began to anticipate Edward’s fantasy come to life. I looked for a way to relieve some of my anxiety, so I reverted back to false bravado.

“So this is it?” I asked him, waving the empty bag in the air before setting it on the coffee table with the other toys. “I’d say you showed remarkable restraint. There are no whips or gags, no cock rings or butt plugs here,” I said cavalierly. I’d never even seen any of those things in person, let alone used them. But the second or two of shock on Edward’s face was worth the outrageous comment.

He composed himself quickly. “I left those at home this time,” he joked, although I wasn’t absolutely certain he was kidding. I decided to voice my suspicions.

“I’m surprised you forgot the plugs, considering what a butt fetish you have.”

His eyes narrowed at me. I wondered if he would deny it, but I knew it was true.

“I have a Bella fetish,” he replied diplomatically. “I love all your parts equally.”

“That’s very politically correct of you, Mr. Cullen,” I said. “But I happen to know you are especially enamored of my ass.”

He took a breath and tried to stifle his grin. “It’s a very sweet ass. I won’t deny it.”

I decided to be candid, since we were about to embark on a journey into new territory and I really had nothing--or maybe everything--to lose.

“So why didn’t you try it earlier? In the kitchen,” I questioned.

“Try what?” he replied obtusely. He wanted me to say it out loud.

I decided to skip being vulgar and put it in clinical terms. “Why didn’t you try to have anal sex with me? I know you want to.”

His gentle smile was almost patronizing. “Because I would have hurt you, and you never would have let me near your ass again.”

I thought back to the pornos that Mike had made me watch. It had always looked so easy; not really painful. Edward obviously caught my quizzical expression because he continued to explain.

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there’s a very big difference between the size of my finger and the size of my dick,” he said, as if I were a simpleton. My irritation rose, just like it had the first day in his office when he had spoken to me that way.

“So you don’t think my ass can handle it?” I said crossly.

He let out a short laugh. “I know your ass can’t handle it. Yet,” he said. Then his tone grew more serious. “But I’d like to work up to it, if you’re willing. If you want to.”

I looked over at the pink vibrator again and understood his logic. Its size appeared to split the difference between what I was used to and what he hoped I’d get used to. I realized I was as curious as I was nervous about that particular sexual frontier. I knew that I would end up trusting him as I always had, and that most likely I wouldn’t be sorry.

He reached out and took my face in his hand, stroking my jaw with his thumb. “If you don’t want to do something, you don’t have to. Just tell me and we’ll stop. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” I assured him. “I want to be open-minded. I want to make you happy.”

He scowled and his eyes flashed with anger. “No. Don’t do anything just to make me happy. Whatever you decide, do it to make yourself happy. That’s all I want. I want you to feel amazing, and get off on whatever we try. Otherwise, forget it.”

I tried to explain myself better. “But Edward, a relationship is about compromise. I like doing things to make you happy, just like you do for me. I feel safe with you and I want to try new things with you. I want you to get off just as much as you want me to. I won’t know if I like something until I try it.”

His hand continued to stroke my face; his eyes did the equivalent with their gaze.

“You have to tell me immediately if you want me to stop,” he ordered.

“I will,” I promised earnestly. And then, a little less so: “Bossy.”

His eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Name-calling is grounds for the handcuffs, you know.”

“Am I in trouble?” I murmured, sensing a new game beginning. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice dropping, becoming huskier. “But I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to detain you for awhile.”

“I won’t answer any questions without my lawyer present,” I declared. “And don’t even think about frisking me. You lay one hand on me and I’ll make you pay.”

“I look forward to your retaliation, Miss Swan,” he murmured, his face dangerously close, lips nearly touching mine. Then, right as I was about to give in to his kiss, he turned abruptly and scooped all the sex props back into their container.

I had no time to react as he zipped the bag, tucked it under his arm, then turned and hoisted me over his shoulder. He stood up from the couch and hauled me, caveman-style, to my bedroom while I shrieked in mock protest. He then tossed me unceremoniously on the bed and was on top of me in seconds, ensconcing himself between my legs.

“It’s no use fighting,” he purred, his lips inches from mine. “I have reason to believe that you’re a thief. I intend to search you thoroughly until I can prove that you’ve stolen something of mine.”

“And what’s that?” I retorted, wrapping my arms and legs around him rather than struggling.

“My heart,” he said with a cheesy grin.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Does that line actually work on anyone?”

“You’ll have to let me know,” he replied, still grinning. And then, suddenly, his mouth captured mine, and all laughter stopped. His tongue was probing and insatiable--searching, just as he had promised.

We gasped for air when he finally broke away. “You do have my heart,” he said, not joking this time. “And my soul, my body, even my thoughts . . . They’re all about you.” He kissed me again, still hungry. My kisses in return were just as greedy. I moaned and writhed beneath him, burying my fingers in the thicket of his hair.

“I’d say it’s an even trade,” I gasped the minute he pried his lips away. “It’s only fair when you own me completely.”

“Do I?” he asked, his eyes imploring for a moment before his wicked smirk returned. “Then you won’t mind if I strip-search you for evidence.”

He began pulling at my clothes then; t-shirt up, shorts down. His hands stroked my bare limbs; lips and tongue and teeth nipped at my neck and chest. I yanked at his clothes too, determined to reveal his bare flesh as quickly as he had mine. He helped me along, throwing our t-shirts in unison to the floor before pushing my camisole toward my shoulders. I raised my arms obediently so that he could draw the fabric over them and toss it atop our shirts.

His mouth closed over my left breast immediately, knotting the flesh of my nipple thoroughly with his teeth and tongue before capturing the right breast and repeating the motion. My fingers tore into his hair and kneaded his scalp while I rocked beneath him, pushing my body against his. His lips traveled south, tongue leaving a wet trail on his way to the boy shorts.

“And what might you be hiding in here, Miss Swan?” he asked, pulling at the waistband. “I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice but to perform a body cavity search.”

Down came the fabric, over my hips, my buttocks, my thighs, my calves, my feet. I lay naked before him while his eyes caressed me from my feet upward, his hands slowly following. Something between a sigh and a moan escaped me when his touch reached my groin.

“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll be gentle,” he murmured as he smoothed his hands over my abdomen. My legs began to open instinctively, welcoming his probing fingers. They stroked me up and down, parting my labia, seeking the slick spot and making it slicker. My hips tilted upward into his touch, pulling his fingers inside; my head fell back as I groaned with pleasure.

“Of course, maybe gentleness is overrated. Maybe you require a firmer hand.” I moaned again at his words before I even felt the unbearable sensation of his fingers plunging deeper, curling into me, and stroking me with quick, firm motions. I grasped the pillow behind my head and dug my fingers into it as his hand intensified its movements. I was practically sobbing by the time he slowed, kneeling over me to whisper in my ear.

“I definitely think I’ve left something of mine here before. Deep inside you.” His lips brushed my ear lobe gently; his fingers moved languidly in and out of my body now, drawing a deep gasp from my lungs with each penetration.

“I don’t want it back,” he continued quietly. “I’d stay inside you forever if I could. You feel like home to me.” He kissed me tenderly on the cheek and I wanted to cry at the emotions swirling through me. I reached up and took his face in mine, pushing him back slightly so that I could look into his eyes.

“You are home,” I whispered.

His gaze reflected every emotion back at me before he kissed me hungrily. I reached down and tugged at the closure of his cargo shorts, slipping my hand inside to grasp his erection the minute the zipper came down. I stroked him in time with his fingers inside me, our rhythm growing faster as we panted softly, still lost in each other’s eyes.

He finally squeezed his shut with a groan and withdrew from me. “Not yet,” he whispered, pulling away from me. I bit my lip to stifle my disappointment as he got off the bed. He let his shorts fall to the floor and pushed his briefs down after them. I loved the sight of his cock springing free, pointing at the object of its lust on the bed before him.

He moved to the head of the bed and pulled one of my pillows to the middle of the mattress, propping it vertically against the headboard. He gently tugged at the pillow under my head; I lifted myself up so that he could remove it and layer it over the first. My heart began to race because I knew what he was doing. I scooted back toward the cushion he had created for me and reclined against it, half-sitting, half-lying against the slope of pillows.

It was time for the handcuffs.