Look, i'm not going to sugar coat it; this is 100% pure fluff. It's practically marshmallow down there.
Written for Fandom for Phillipines. Beta'd by the lovely MagTwi and Astro2009. Also, TKegl did an amazing banner for me, but I lost the link because i'm a wanker like that. Just be aware that it was awesome, that's all I ask.
Disclaimer: I don't own, and I won't pay your dentist's bill either.
The sun is setting over the city; streaks of orange, pink, and yellow beam through New York skyline like lights on a stage. My girlfriends and I sit at the tiny table and chairs on my balcony listening to the traffic below. Out of nowhere, Leah slams her palm on the table, rocking the empty beer bottles violently.
"Tonight is the night, Bella. It's the night," she insists, her dark eyes zeroed in on me intently.
"The night for?"
She grins. "Tonight, my good friend, is the night that you're finally going to get that skinny ass of yours laid."
I raise a hand to high-five hers, while Emily gives a Praise Jesus to the sky. It's been too damn long since I've felt the touch of a man other than my doctor, and I am ready to break the dry spell.
"Look, I don't care if I don't get laid," I say honestly. "It would be nice, don't get me wrong." Lord knows it's been a while. "Tonight, I just want a kiss. A real honest-to-goodness, kiss. A toe-curling, earth-shattering, knee-shaking kiss."
Emily cocks her head, her blond ponytail swishing behind her. "But what about-"
I hold a hand up, interrupting her. "Don't even. Tyler from work does not count as a kiss. I am repressing."
She scoffs, her perfectly manicured fingers slopping her pink, girlie drink all over my balcony. "It can't have been that bad."
"Are you kidding? The man had enough saliva for the both of us. Too much spit and way too much tongue. It was..." I shudder, compulsively wiping at the corners of my mouth.
"Right, so it's settled then," says Leah, standing and holding her beer bottle in the air. "Operation Get-Bella-Some-Dick is in effect!"
Emily stands too, and then they're both standing there looking like the world's worst superhero team.
"Okay. So where to then?" I ask, polishing off the last of my beer.
Em shrugs, sitting back down. "James is working at Volterra." She tries to look nonchalant, focusing on the label of her bottle like it holds the key to world hunger, but it's obvious she wants him.
"No!" says Leah. "No stuck up pretentious bars until I'm sufficiently wasted. What about Pot of Gold?"
Emily bemoans Leah's choice, but I nod, and thirty minutes later we're in a cab on our way across town with operation Get-Bella-Laid in full swing.
The music in Pot of Gold, our favorite Irish bar, is so loud that I can't hear Emily speak. She's standing right in front of me, talking about God knows what because I can barely hear her.
"Want another drink?" I yell.
She blinks slowly, furrowing her eyebrows. "Huh?"
It's too tiring to even keep trying, so I shake my head, waving it off. Apart from the loud music and pub regulars, there are at least two groups celebrating birthdays, a bachelor party, and an entire soccer team crammed into the tiny bar.
The soccer team is rowdy, bordering on obnoxious, but seemingly filled with a lot of incredibly good-looking men.
Good-looking men who are also Irish, and I don't care what anyone says, but a man with an accent other than my own is hot.
The crowd around me jostles, and I curse as my beer sloshes onto my hands. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Leah emerges through the masses with a tall, dark-haired guy attached to her arm.
"Bella!" she yells, shoving him in front of me. "This is Paul. He plays... what was it again?"
"Midfield," he answers with a nod.
Leah screws her face up and looks at me. "Did you understand that? Mud field? Midfeld?"
"Beckham plays midfield," he says proudly with a wink.
He's definitely a good-looking guy; tall and well built with dark curly hair and green eyes. He's got more than potential- he's got dimples. The only slight problem is that he's incredibly drunk. Even as he eyes me lazily, he's swaying from side to side.
"Paul," he says with a voice like a foghorn.
"Bella," I yell back, shaking his huge hand.
He lifts his empty glass, pointing at it. "You wan anoter drink?"
"Uh...um, cheers!?" I say, lifting my glass to his with a clink.
He laughs uproariously, flashing those cute-as-a-button dimples. Still laughing, he grabs the glass from my hand and walks away.
"He's cute, right?" asks Leah while I wonder where he's going with the other half of my Guinness.
I nod. "He's definitely kissable. And he's drunk, so obviously I'm in with a chance."
"Who likes to dance?" yells Emily, straining to hear.
"No, I'm in with a chance," I reply, practically screaming in her ear. Em responds with a frown and a shake of her head.
Paul brings me back a drink the size of my face, smiling sweetly. With much difficulty, I discern that he's from Dublin, and is in the US for three weeks on a tour with his soccer team. His accent is thick and becomes even more pronounced the more he drinks. With every sip I understand less and less. Also, he gets a little boisterous when he talks, add to that the fact that he seems to be getting drunker by the minute, and you've got yourself one funny guy.
"Then Collin, the lit'le cant, looks away fer a feckin' second, and th' feckin' ball whacks him in th' feckin' face! Blood goes ever'where! He cried like a feckin' tree yeer old."
I blink slowly.
Before he can repeat himself for the millionth time, a rowdy rock song comes on.
"Dance?" he asks, holding an arm out.
Filled with enough beer to give me courage, I follow him out to the dance floor, trying not to catch an elbow in the face as we push through the crowd. Paul doesn't really dance- he bounces. It's a strange jig to watch; the way he jumps up and down, bobbing his head to the music - not in time, of course - but the funny thing is that I feel the compulsion to do the exact same thing. But it's fun, and we end up laughing at each other more than anything. Soon enough he starts to look at me with that little gleam in his eye. The music around us is still thumping, the sound of some 80's rock song screaming out of the speakers, but we've moved in closer. Close enough for him to wrap an arm around my waist and pull me close.
This is it.
My heart skyrockets into my throat. I'm getting a kiss and I don't care if we're in the middle of the dance floor and that there are dozens of people around us and that he smells like a brewery.
I'm all prepared to have the shit kissed out of me, when all of a sudden we begin to sway, and not in a slow-dance kind of way. I'm not sure whether it's him or the crowd, but we're moving sideways, kind of falling in very, very slow motion. I stumble a little, but apparently, this does nothing to deter Paul, because he's coming in for a kiss and there's nothing I can do about it.
Trying to stop myself from falling, I turn to steady us… and that's when I feel it.
His tongue in my ear.
He is so drunk that he mistakes my ear for my mouth. I can hear his tongue moving in and out of my ear hole. It feels like a slug has taken up residence in my aural cavity. When he starts sucking on my ear lobe I can't take it anymore.
"Ack! Stop!" I cry, pushing his face away from me, and in effect, his body as well.
Wiping his saliva from my ear, I look up at his dumbstruck face. He opens his mouth to say something when from behind, some dick in a Hawaiian shirt pushes into him and splat - Paul's glass hits the floor and the entire contents of it splash over my feet, soaking through my shoes and jeans.
Even over the raucous noise of the bar, I can hear my two friends in complete hysterics nearby.
"I'll be right back," I say, leaving him on the dance floor in a puddle of beer.
The girls have almost stopped laughing as I grab them both by the arm, dragging them with me out the front doors.
"My feet are all sticky."
Emily bounces on her tiptoes, waving. "Hey! James!"
"This fucking line is taking for-fucking-ever." Leah leans over and sniffs me. "You smell like beer too, just saying."
"I feel violated. I've been ear-raped."
Leah shrugs. "You should probably get checked out. Inner ear infection, ear warts, ear crabs…"
"Shut up, Leah." I groan, wiping out my ear for the millionth time. No matter how much I clean it, I can still feel a phantom tongue invading my ear space.
"Is he ignoring me?" asks Emily, gesturing towards James.
"Just flash your tits," says Leah.
"No way. You do it," says Emily, crossing her arms over her chest.
Leah doesn't even hesitate calling for James' attention and lifting her shirt over her head.
"Hello, ladies," drawls James as he strolls down the line outside the club and takes Emily's hand, kissing the back of it. "Looking lovely tonight, Leah," he says with a wink. Ugh, he's so disgusting it hurts.
With her shirt back in its rightful position, Leah rolls her eyes, but Emily practically falls over herself as he escorts us to the front of the line and gestures for the bouncer to let us through.
I hate Volterra. It's pretentious and stuffy, and it's too dark and the music is boring. But Emily loves it. At least she fits in with her expensive clothes and wafer-thin body. Leah and I just look like two homeless bitches she found on the street. I think Leah's even wearing a flannel shirt. But it's spacious, and I'm not being knocked around by a soccer team or having my ear molested so for now it's fine.
Leah immediately buys a round of shots, and before I've even finished the first one she's ordering another. She's in the mood to get hammered, and she's taking us down with her. Waving off a third, I excuse myself to freshen up in the bathroom.
Sitting on the bathroom counter, I wipe the beer from my feet as best as possible, trying to get it from between my toes. My shoes are ruined. They may have only cost me fifty dollars, but they were my never fail comfy, sexy heels – and now they're ruined. The bottom few inches of my jeans are kind of damp, but they'll survive.
After another ten minutes of methodically cleaning every nook and cranny in my ear, I head back to the girls. I spot Emily standing outside on the beautifully decorated Italian neoclassical inspired inside-outside deck, as new vogue, ambient psycho-pop drones over the state-of-the-art sound system… and I want to stab myself in the eye with a martini glass. Specifically, the expensive crystal ones behind the bar.
Emily sidles over to me as I approach. "Okay," she whispers conspiratorially. "I've just met the perfect guy for you."
I stop in my tracks. "I can tell I'm going to need a drink for this."
She giggles. "No need. Stefan has a bar tab running, and he said we can order whatever we want." Like I'm her mentally deficient sister, Emily parades me over to the small group of men standing nearby. "Bella, this is Stefan. Stefan…" - her hands swooshes in front of me like I'm a prize on The Price Is Right, - "…this is Bella."
Stefan smiles and clean, perfect teeth form a very pretty smile. "Nice to meet you, Bella."
Perfectly-styled blond hair and the sparkliest blue eyes I have ever seen look back at me. He is divine, and I would very much like him on top of me.
"Stefan," I say after picking my jaw up off the floor.
"I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted then," says Em with a smug grin.
Stefan smiles and I practically melt. He's the perfect gentleman; he's attentive and sweet. He smiles at all the appropriate times, laughs at my crappy jokes, and buys me copious amounts of swanky cocktails. He speaks perfect, fluent American which I can understand. He doesn't look wasted, although he has downed what could easily be an entire bottle of single-malt. And, from the way he keeps looking at my lips, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to tongue-fuck my ear- just my mouth. Even his friends are attractive, talking business in their Italian suits and expensive shoes. They talk about acquisitions and mergers, and something about floating markets.
"Oh yeah, I've seen those floating markets," I interrupt. "In Thailand, right?"
Stefan smiles while his friends laugh. "You're cute," he says, touching the end of my nose lightly.
"I have to pee." I giggle, grinning. Yeah, so, I'm a little drunk.
Emily stumbles between me and Stefan, grabbing me by the arm. "I'll take you!"
Still slamming down beers like a champion, Leah follows close behind as Emily takes me to the ladies bathroom. And because they seem to have absolutely no idea of boundaries, they follow me into the cubicle, all three of us squished in as I sit down to pee.
"Ohmygod," slurs Emily. "He wants you soooo bad."
"Yeah, he does," agrees Leah.
I grin lazily. Wow. Sitting on the toilet has made me realize how drunk I really am.
"I'm going to kiss the shit out of him," I decide.
Emily reaches out for a high five, and then thinks better of it, patting me on the head instead.
After checking to make sure I haven't got toilet paper stuck to my shoe, Emily sends me out all primped and preened, ready to get the shit kissed out of me.
On my way back, a hand grabs me on the arm as I pass, and I wheel around, ready to punch someone in the balls. Luckily, a familiar set of blue eyes glints at me from the dark corner.
"Hey," Stefan says quietly, and I don't miss the fact that his hand lingers on my arm, trailing down to my hand, and finally my fingers. With a shiny smile, he pulls me forward so that we're chest to chest. He's still so effortlessly cool, his drink in hand as he beams those baby-blues down at me.
He leans in, kissing me once chastely on the lips.
"You're a very beautiful woman."
"So are you. Not a woman, I mean. A guy. You're an attractive guy."
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
And finally, this is it. A real kiss.
His hands are gentle but firm as they slide across the nape of my neck, holding me close. His body is hard and defined through his suit and he smells amazing, like an expensive man should. It's all so perfect, and I'm so very ready, and then he kisses me and… it's all wrong. His mouth that was so very perfect… is wrong. As gently as I can, I try to pry open his lips with my own, coaxing them, trying to get him to loosen up. But they're like steel, unyielding and firm as he kisses me. I even try sucking on his lower lip a little, but it's like they're glued shut. No tongue for Bella.
But I want my kiss, damn it! And I'm having none of this closed-lips kissing bullshit.
Holding tightly to the lapels of his jacket, I pull him closer still, practically rubbing myself all over him in an attempt to get him to loosen up a little. He squeaks quietly as I turn and push him against the wall, attacking his mouth with my own.
"Oh, God." He moans, and I think I'm in when he grabs a handful of my ass, pushing me against his growing erection.
But I am so very, very far from being in.
Just as I think he's about to open the steel trap he calls his mouth, he shudders violently, his knees buckling slightly as he curses.
"Oh, fuck, fu-u-uck..."
I know that face. It's been a while, but I know a cum face when I see one.
With his hand still attached to my ass, and his crotch on my thigh, he shakes so hard that the whiskey in his glass spills out and right onto my shirt, soaking right through to my bra.
"Oh my God!" I squeal, pulling myself from his grip, frantically wiping at myself.
He practically collapses, and I don't even throw him a goodbye as I leave him in the hallway, panting and sticky.
Emily is quite obviously drunk- I can hear her from across the bar. Her voice has reached octaves Mariah Carey could only dream of, and she's giggling like a schoolgirl.
"You!" I shout at her, and she turns, wide-eyed. I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. "We're leaving."
"But why?" She whines, pouting at me.
Twitchy-eyed and angry, I point to my now whiskey-stained shirt. As luck would have it, just as I turn to look for Leah, she comes barreling towards us, her eyes wild.
"We need to go. Like, now!"
She grabs us both by the arms, and pushes us towards the front doors.
"Why? What's going on?"
A noise catches my attention, and I turn around to see two guys, both in Hawaiian shirts, making chase.
We step up the pace, practically running. "Leah! What did you do?"
Leah grimaces as we barge through the front door. "I might have, sort of, almost, kind of, punched a guy in the face."
Emily screams in horror. "Leah! Why?"
The bouncers seem to have stopped the two guys chasing us in their tracks, but I can still hear them yelling and cursing. Leah just turns and gives them both her middle fingers and laughs.
"The husband-to-be grabbed me on the ass. Can you believe that?"
"So you punched him?" wails Emily, stumbling a little.
Leah just shrugs, nodding her head. "Sort of. I tried to anyway." She looks at me. "What happened to your shirt?"
"If I buy it, I choose it," sings Leah, smirking.
I look down into my almost-empty wallet, seeing enough cash for a few more drinks and a cab ride home, but not enough for a new shirt.
I sigh. "Fine. But nothing too hideous."
Emily snorts, still upset that she may never be allowed back at Volterra because of us. "We're at a convenience store, Bella. It's all hideous."
"FOUND IT!" says Leah triumphantly, pulling a small white t-shirt from a rack. "It's perfect."
"Let me see." I make grabby hands for the garment, only to be shooed away.
"Uh-uh. You can see it when you put it on."
Emily and I wait outside while Leah pays for the shirt and a bottle of water, and I do my best to cheer her up. "We'll go to Twilight," I coo, like I'm trying to bribe a child. "You can dance on the stage and grind on cute boys."
A little smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and she twirls the end of her ponytail around her finger. "I like cute boys and dancing."
I nudge her shoulder with mine. "I know you do."
"Here you go," says Leah happily, handing me a plastic bag with the shirt in it. I whip it out and the blood rushes from my face all the way to my feet.
"No! No, no, no, no! I can't wear this."
She and Emily are laughing like hyenas. "Too bad!"
The plain white tank top has the words "I LOVE THE COC" written on the front, with a big love heart covered in red sparkles. When I turn it over, I discover that COC is actually The Chelsea Obstetricians Convention. I bet someone at the printers had a good laugh at that one.
It's hideous and trashy and way too short. But, on the bright side, if anything is going to get me closer to that kiss – this shirt will.
"Oh, him. He's cute too."
Twilight is absolutely teeming with people, and the girls seem to think that anything with a cock will do. And to be honest, at this late stage, I'm starting to think that's true.
Scantily dressed and over-tanned, most of the people in Twilight don't look over eighteen. I feel hideously under-dressed, or over-dressed in terms of body to clothing ratio. It's places like this that remind me why I don't go out any more.
Like I said she would, Emily finds some random guy to dance with, and she seems content to grind her ass against him. Leah is beside me, deep in a heated conversation with some guy. I remind myself to keep an eye on her- one fight a night is just about enough.
"I like your shirt."
The music is so loud I almost don't hear him. I don't know if it's the vodka talking, or the fact that it's past midnight and I'm still sans a real kiss, but the guy is sort of cute.
I thank him, taking in his lanky hair and slate-grey eyes.
"Um..." He sputters, clearing his throat. "I don't do this very often, but uh, do you want a drink? Another one, I mean?"
It's obvious that he's very shy. But lucky for him, I'm rather drunk, so I'm more than happy to take the lead and make my move.
We wait in line at the bar, and to be honest, conversation with him- or Jasper, as I've found out his name is- is like pulling teeth. But he seems really sweet, and the shy thing is kind of endearing. He's like a little blond mouse: all shiny-eyed and timid. Once at the bar, he signals the bartender and orders two beers- the good kind- with a slice of lemon. The girl behind the bar gives him a wink, and I swear I can feel the heat from his blush six feet away.
"I hate the music in these places."
He just nods, smiling weakly.
"That'll be ten fifty," says the bartender, looking at us expectantly.
Smiling, I turn to Jasper, who just looks back at me.
"Oh," he stutters, his hands shaking a little. "I, um, I don't have any money left. I'm sorry, I should have said."
It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, and the bartender actually clears her throat, trying to get one of us to cough up some money. Grudgingly, I hand over what's left of mine.
Leah gives me the thumbs up as Jasper and I sit at a little booth, crammed between an under-dressed, over-tanned bimbo, and a guy who looks like a poster child for growth hormone abuse.
Jasper is lovely. Very sweet and actually quite chatty if you can get him talking; and talk he does.
About his dog.
About his job.
About the sandwiches at the deli on Fifth street.
And most importantly, who can forget- his ex-girlfriend.
Yeah. He went there.
"She said I was too needy. Needy! Do I look needy?" he asks, verging on hysterical.
"Right. Exactly. That's what I said."
"I mean, don't girls like that? The whole hugging and holding hands thing?"
"And then last week I find out she hooked up with this guy Marcus that she works with…"
And that's about where I loose any semblance of interest in Jasper. "Mm, yeah."
Emily catches my eye over Jasper's shoulder, and I give her my best 'save-me' eyes.
"…And she always told me she didn't like it. But now apparently she loves it…"
Em lifts her drink and points to it, mouthing the word 'drink?'. Rolling my eyes, I shake my head.
"…I just miss her so much. So, 'Jasper', I said to myself, 'you're going to go out tonight and forget about Alice'..."
Again, while Jasper is busy rambling about his ex-girlfriend, I drag my finger across my throat, gesturing at him with my head. Emily furrows her eyebrows, her mouth hanging open.
That girl is so dense sometimes.
"…she used to do this thing with her tongue..."
"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!" I yell, throwing my hands in the air. Jasper's eyes widen and he sits bolt upright. "I don't care, Jasper. I don't. Alice broke up with you because you're a socially inept, needy, broke-ass dude."
He sits there, stunned.
Frustrated, tired, drunk and un-kissed, my head falls onto the sticky table-top, which I immediately regret. Lifting my head, I rub the damp spot between my eyebrows. "Screw this. I'm going home."
I find Leah attached at the lips to the guy she was arguing with. Figures. Only Leah would find an argument a turn on. She carries on a little when I tell her I'm leaving, but in the end, argumentative-dude wins and she stays. I can't even find Emily, but I send her a text telling her I'm leaving and she replies with some random emojis of an alien and a smiley face, so I'm guessing she's fine.
The night air has turned a little chilly and, believe it or not, the tiny shirt I'm wearing isn't offering much protection from the wind. I walk as quickly as I can to a cab stand around the corner, muttering obscenities under my breath. After tonight's debacles, I'm tempted to stay at home for the rest of my life. I like cats. I figure I can have a lot of cats to keep me company. A bottle of whiskey and a shot gun, and I'm a hop, skip, and a jump away from being a crazy cat lady.
"Fuck!" I curse as the cab stand comes into sight because there are at least two dozen people all waiting for a ride. I'm cold, my feet are sticky and I'm fast on my way to being sober - I am so very ready to go home.
"You know, if you go around the corner you can probably catch one there," says a voice from behind me. I whirl around to find Jasper, sulking like a child in the doorway of a shop.
"Jesus Christ, Jasper! What are you doing?"
Sad-faced, he holds his phone up, the lit screen displaying the name 'Alice'. He pouts. "She's not answering."
Oh, for the love of God.
I help him up, vowing to myself to get him into a cab and home safely. I don't think I could sleep knowing he's curled up in an alley somewhere like a stray emo. He's right though; and as we walk around the corner, the lights of a cab come into sight.
With an arm in the air, trying to flag down the driver, I turn Jasper to face me, keeping my hands secured tightly around his biceps. "Listen to me, you need to pull your big-boy pants on and go out there and get her back, okay?" He nods. "Be a man and tell her that you love her."
I fling my arm in the air to hail the cab when suddenly, from nowhere, fucking Hawaiian Shirt Dude appears.
"Taxi!" we both call.
The cab comes to a halt and I run toward it as best I can in heels. "Oh, no you don't!"
Hideous Shirt Guy and I reach for the cab door at the same time, our hands both clasping the door handle.
"I don't think so, buddy," I say, trying to be nice.
Hawaiian Shirt keeps a firm grip on the handle. "I called it first... buddy." A wicked smile graces his lips as he looks down at me.
Oh, so that's how it's going to be, huh?
"You're going to steal a cab from a lady?" I say quietly, trying out my best damsel-in-distress voice.
He snorts, looking down at my shirt. "You have the words 'I love the cock' on your shirt. You're no lady."
I gasp, pretending to be offended. "This, from a guy in a Hawaiian shirt."
He looks down like he's just remembered it's there, and sighs. "Look, you and your boyfriend can catch the next one. I've had a shitty night. I just want to go home, okay?"
I step a little closer- wow, he's tall- pointing my finger in his chest. "First of all, he's not my boyfriend. Second - you think you've had a shitty night? I can top it. Now, let me take this cab so I can get the fuck home."
In a mad scramble, we both open the car door and shove ourselves through it and onto the back seat. When I look back Jasper is nowhere to be found - either our arguing has scared him off, or he's found a ride home elsewhere.
"Where to?" asks the driver, pulling away from the curb as asshole-cab-stealer and I shuffle into our seats.
"Corner of 97th and Lexington," he says and the cab lurches forward.
"Actually, it's Riverside Drive thank you, driver."
The driver huffs and swings the car around.
"You got in my cab, lady," insists Hawaiian Shirt Guy. "Riverside is the other side of town to me." He leans forward, tapping on the plastic partition. "97th and Lexington, please."
The cab comes to a screeching halt, and the two of us almost smash face-first into the partition. "Which is it?" the driver yells from the front seat.
I cross my arms over my chest, turning to crazy haired-Hawaiian Shirt Guy. We stare at each other for a few seconds. He looks pretty determined to stay where he is but, as I'm about to reach for the door handle, he sighs and flops back into his seat, his eyes turned up to the roof. "Riverside Drive."
I can't hide my smug smile as I turn to the window, ignoring his frustrated sigh.
The back of the cab is dark, illuminated only by the flash of the streetlights overhead. I peer at Hawaiian Shirt Guy from the corner of my eye, pretending to sweep my hair over my shoulder. Even in the dark I can see I was right- he is tall. His legs are at an awkward angle, tucked behind the driver's seat and bent this way and that.
"So...shitty night?" I ask quietly. I figure since we're stuck together for the next twenty minutes, we might as well be civil. Plus, he's going to have to pay for the cab all the way across town again.
He looks over, eyeing me warily for a moment, no doubt wondering if I'm completely bat-shit crazy. Finally he nods. "The worst."
I raise my eyebrows, smiling. "Bet I can beat it."
He snorts, shifting so that he's half facing me. "Try me."
"I had my favorite shoes ruined by spilled beer—"
"I'm not finished! And don't 'pfft' me!"
He holds his hands up in defense. "Sorry. Continue."
"And," -I continue, momentarily flustered by his smile- "the guy who spilled his beer on my shoes tongue-fucked my ear."
He smiles and the laughter that follows fills the cab, the sound of it making me laugh along. "Okay, that's bad," he says. "But I can still beat it."
Doubtful, I shift to face him, our knees touching lightly between us.
"My best friend vomited on me. Hence the jean shorts."
I make a face of disgust at both the vomit and the jorts.
I cross my arms over my chest. "I made a guy come in his pants and he spilled his drink all over me."
"I got punched in the face trying to break up a fight between my cousin and some chick." He turns his head, showing off the beginning of what will be a brilliant shiner. The skin under his left eye is cut and looks angry and red. Still, I can see that even with a black eye his eyes are actually a startling shade of green. They are completely amazing.
Wait a minute. Am I being dazzled by a guy in a pair of jean shorts who stole my cab?
"And, to top it all off," he continues, "I'm wearing a bright orange and yellow Hawaiian shirt." He gestures to the offending garment.
"Good point." I tug on the sleeve of his shirt. "Why are you wearing this?"
He looks down at it in disgust, shaking his head. "Stag party."
I nod in understanding. "Ah, I see."
"Yeah," he says. "My cousin thinks he's hilarious."
Witty banter and hideous attire aside, this guy is really very attractive. His baseball hat covers what looks to be quite a head of hair. Little bits of it stick out every which way, curling out behind his ears and at the nape of his neck. His shoulders are broad, and even hidden beneath a hideous shirt, I can tell he's lean but still muscular.
"So, do I win?" he asks, flashing that smile at me again, lop-sided and cheeky. He's kind of charming in an unsuspecting way.
I pretend to think about it for a moment but I eventually nod. "Yeah. You win."
"Edward," he says, extending a hand towards me.
"Bella," I say, giving him my hand, which he shakes gently. His hands are warm, but not clammy- just pleasant - and something about him, even in this confined space, makes me feel comfortable.
Smiling, I tuck some hair behind my ear. "Thanks for letting me steal your cab, Edward."
Edward shrugs a little, glancing sidelong at me, his eyes lingering on me just long enough to make my stomach clench. "Well, you're just lucky you're cute."
He thinks I'm cute.
"So, do you chat up girls in the back of stolen cabs often?"
He smirks, and good God, it's like the temperature in the back seat rises a million degrees. "Only the cute ones."
I'm suddenly very happy that it's still dark enough in the back seat to hide my blush. "Nice."
"Yeah, I thought so." He shifts, trying to make himself comfortable. "So what was the occasion tonight?"
A forlorn sigh escapes my mouth. "No reason. Just a kiss."
Cursing my big mouth, I tell him about my epic quest for a kiss. It's incredibly embarrassing, but to Edward's credit he doesn't laugh or tell me I'm a moron. By the time I'm finished, the cab has pulled up outside of my apartment building. I open my purse to pull out some money, but Edward reaches out his hand to stop me. "Don't worry about it. I stole your cab, the least I can do is pay for it."
"But you have to go all the way across town."
Huh. Nice, cute guy is nice and really cute. Where was Edward four hours ago?
"That's really nice of you. Thank you." Smiling, I reach for the door handle, suddenly feeling nervous and a bit deflated, the weight of the night crashing down on me. I hesitate, chancing one more look at Edward over my shoulder. "It was nice to meet you."
Leaning forward a little, Edward rubs his hands across the denim material of his shorts. "Can I walk you to the door? You never know what's lurking around at two AM."
I can't hide the nervous smile that spreads across my cheeks. "Sure."
My heart is stuttering; it's palpitating high up in my chest almost in my throat, as he gets out of the cab behind me. He leans back into the front window, telling the driver to wait.
We walk the twelve feet to my building in silence. At the door to my apartment building Edward says, "So, you never did get that kiss, huh?"
His lips turn up into the smirk that seems to raise my internal body temperature. I've been a picture of cool all night, but suddenly, when presented with what could possibly be a kiss with this ridiculously attractive man, I'm jittery and on edge. "Not the right kind, no."
He looks nervous as he pulls his cap off and runs his fingers through his hair, and then puts the cap back on, only this time backward. "I guess since I did steal your cab, maybe I could help? I…" He shakes his head, swearing under his breath. "…was that sleazy? Too much? It's too much. Sorry…"
My eyes widen. "It's fine. I mean, it's fine if you want to help."
Fuck, Bella. Use your big girl words.
"Yeah?" he says, like he really has to double check whether or not I want him to kiss me.
I can't help but giggle nervously. He must think I'm a complete idiot. "Yeah."
Rubbing his hands together, he steps forward. "Okay. So the perfect kiss. What have I gotta do?"
"Um..." I squeak.
He steps forward again, resting a hand on my hip. Damn, the guy has got some game and fuck if I'm not excited to be on the receiving end.
"Well, should I put my hands here?" His other hand rests on my right hip, and he pulls me to him. "Or here?" We both watch as his fingers move from my hip, up my arm, further, further, across my collarbone and up my neck until it's home, tucked under my hair at the nape of my neck.
"The-there's good," I stutter.
"Okay." His voice is low and throaty- masculine. "So here goes."
I can barely breathe as his tongue pokes out, wetting his bottom lip. "Okay."
"I'm going to kiss you now."
And then, there it is.
A perfect kiss.
The perfect kiss.
Whisper-soft and gentle, his lips are like a balm to soothe my crappy night.
When I open my eyes again, I find his still closed, his lips parted as his breathing regulates. "That was…"
He smiles a little, his lips still only inches from mine. "Perfect?"
I pull away, shrugging. "It was okay. Actually, you know, I think I might head in. Thanks for the ride though."
Edward's mouth drops open and he stares at me in horror, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "You what? Just okay? Are you…were you there?"
Smiling, I nod, pretending to look for my keys in my handbag.
"Fuck that," he spits, grabbing me by the elbow and turning to me to face him.
Teasing him was a bad, bad, bad idea. He kisses me like he's a starving man and I'm food—he's ravenous, almost ferocious. It's good, so, so, so good, and I can barely keep myself upright as he kisses the shit right out of me.
Panting, he pulls away, cocking an eyebrow at me. "How's that for a kiss?"
He asks, but the look on his face tells me that he already knows. He knows that my knees are weak and that I can barely form a single thought other than more.
"Want to come up?"
The cab is paid for and gone, and me and Edward are in my apartment before you can blink.
"Off," I gasp, tugging at his flower-covered shirt. "Take this off. Now. Make it go away." My fingers are awkward as I try to undo the little yellow buttons on the front. Still kissing frantically, we manage to get all the buttons undone, although I think the last few may have been ripped off in haste.
We're a mess of limbs and we're both laughing as we try and wriggle out of our clothing. The main problem is we can't seem to stop kissing long enough to get anything off properly. Edward's shorts are pooled around his ankles, his belt clanking against the flooring as we stumble towards my bedroom. My jeans are off, discarded somewhere along the way, and my arms are stuck over my head in my t-shirt.
"Oh, fuck," I mumble into my shirt as Edward drops to his knees in the hallway, his hands and lips trailing down my stomach. But I can't see him- and I so desperately want to see him- but my arms are bent at awkward angles, making it hard to move.
"Fuck…so…smooth…"He punctuates each word with a kiss, each lower than the last until I think I'm going to collapse in a heap. "So…warm, and… you kind of taste like… whiskey?"
"Uh, yeah," I say to the cotton of my t-shirt.
"It's not entirely a bad thing," Edward admits, and my thighs clench together as I feel his tongue brush across the skin of my hipbone. "Edward. Shirt. My shirt. Please." I whine, trying to press myself against him, rub my legs together and get my shirt off all at once.
My shirt is ripped off of my arms, and I shriek as suddenly I'm airborne as he lifts me by the hips, one hand under my ass, the other around my waist. "Bedroom?" he whispers, as my legs wrap around him.
"Left. Oh, God." His fingers knead my ass tightly as his tongue dips into the valley between my breasts. "Left, left, left!"
Edward stumbles left and I hear him kick my door open before I'm flung down onto the bed. Finally he's all I can see, standing at the end of the bed between my knees in nothing but a pair of grey boxer briefs and a wrist watch.
Resting on one elbow, I reach for the elastic of his boxers with my other hand, drawing him closer. He chuckles, letting me pull him on top of me, and I can almost hear my skin sigh as his weight presses down on me, firm and warm, smooth and heavy. I've missed the weight of a man on top of me, and the fact that it's a gorgeous man more than makes up for the dry spell.
"There are so many things I want to do, but I don't know where to start," he admits to my collarbone, his hand gripping my thigh as I press up against him, feverish with the need for him to touch me.
"Foreplay is totally overrated," I say, pressing my heels into his butt for leverage. "Plenty of time for that later. I think we should just have sex right now. Like, right now."
His head snaps up and his hand immediately moves to my waistband. "You are the smartest woman I've ever met."
We wriggle ourselves out of our underwear and, without any preamble, Edward glides himself through my wetness once and then pushes on home. I want to bottle the feeling and keep it forever: the slight sting, the feeling of completeness, like the feeling of an itch that's finally getting a good scratch.
Our movements are frantic, and his hands are everywhere, but nowhere for long enough. Barely breaking our kiss, I push at his shoulders and roll on top of him, my body already on fire and so ready for release. His hands guide me as I roll my hips over his, the movement sending shockwaves of pleasure right through me. All it takes is a few strokes of Edward's long fingers against me and my climax rockets through me making all of my muscles flutter and seize while the world goes white for a moment. As Edward rides out his own orgasm beneath me, I can't help but think that his cum face is much prettier than the one I'd seen earlier.
To be honest, everything about Edward is just plain pretty.
Panting, and suddenly very aware that I barely know this naked man beneath me, I lean down to kiss him quickly, before I slide off his hips and excuse myself to wash up. "Be right back."
Closing the bathroom door behind me, I sit naked on the edge of the bath and try to find the part of me that should feel suitably abashed at bringing a man home after only meeting him minutes earlier. I mean, he could be out there robbing my apartment for all I know, while I'm in here swooning like a teenager.
Is that what I'm doing? Swooning?
I stand up and take a look at myself in the mirror, taking in the flushed cheeks and freshly-fucked hair.
Yep. Definitely swooning.
Taking a deep breath, I tidy up and creep back into my bedroom, where I find Edward in my bed, actually under the covers. The guy wastes no time.
"Make yourself at home," I joke quietly, as I round the bed and crawl in beside him. He lifts his arm, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.
"Is this weird?" he asks a moment later, dragging me from my post-coital daze.
"You mean is it weird that you stole my cab and then we had sex?"
He smiles, squeezing his arm around me. "Good. Now…" He rolls me onto my back, and I feel the full weight of his dazzling stare as he looks down at me. "How about that foreplay then…"
Just a kiss. Yeah, right.
As he disappears beneath the bedsheets, an thought breaks through the lust-filled haze in my brain, and I'm met with memories of guys dressed in Hawaiian shirts chasing us out of a club. I press a hand to Edward's head, and he pops up from the dip between my breasts, eyes soft and lust-filled.
"Uh, Edward. The girl who punched you; what did she look like?"
Thank you x Wink
FYI: I'm writing again and I like it. Just so you know.