I have a confession to make. I missed a certain scene from the final chapter- it got a little too long so I skipped it. But I decided to flesh it out and use it as an outtake. Its pretty smutty... and that's a warning!
Christmas With the Cullens
I'm going to kill Emmett
Really kill him.
With knives and stuff.
I've been awake for the last hour, tossing and turning and tuning him out because he's moaning like a cry-baby outside Edward's bedroom door.
So, it goes like this: Emmett, needs the bathroom because Rosalie needs to pee, and for some strange, anomalous reason she needs this bathroom. Edward's very bathroom … despite there being a billion others located in the cottage. Oh, and she needs it now.
"The tidings we bring…" Emmett sings outside the door.
I roll my eyes and tilt my head to the side.
He sleeps like its hibernation season.
I mean, I get it.
Edward's exhausted and maybe I tired him out a little last night.
Alright, maybe I was a complete tyrant, but sheesh, a little help to cope with his big bro' and somewhat pregnant and highly urinating ho, wouldn't go amiss.
Besides it's Christmas morning. He should wake up and help me out because, well…. I'm horny.
By God, I need him.
He's lying on his stomach, his head turned toward me so that I can feel puffs of his breath against my shoulder. His body is furnace hot against mine, and his lips are the most vibrant wine red I've ever seen.
And all I want to do is kiss him.
I want to kiss his un-flickering eyelids, I want to kiss his nose, I want to kiss the cheekbones which are streaked with color like he's been blushing too hard.
I want to kiss the hands that were wreaking havoc all over my body not so long ago, then his belly-button and especially his---uhh, wow-- stop!
In a desperate attempt to not rape Edward in his sleep, I lick my pinkie and stick it in his ear.
"What the hell..." He blinks groggily and grabs my hand in his, before I can move away. "…are you doing?"
Jeez, that is some fast reflex action going on there.
I struggle out of his grasp and smile sheepishly, leaning back into my pillow, "Hi."
Edward raises a questioning eyebrow.
"Why honey, I'm waking you up, of course," I say in a Stepford wife voice.
"Creative, Bella, yet highly annoying," he says leaning on his elbow and looking all morning-tousled and drowsy.
Somehow, I don't think Edward takes too kindly to being woken up when in deep slumber.
"Well first you should understand that this charm comes with my contract and second, you should not still be asleep on Christmas morning and third, its not that creative - ahh--," I giggle, because he's suddenly over me, on me, pinning me to the bed and nuzzling me under my chin. "It's called a wet w-"
"I know what it's called and since when did you start dictating what I can and cannot do in the mornings?"
"Since you gave me the rights to your body."
He's holding my hands above my head, leaning into my neck. He smells morning-manly and the only thing between us is his shirt which I'm already regretting pulling over my head.
Still, his skin heats me up through the fabric and I feel a tingle in my cheeks at the way he's looking at me.
"Mmm. You smell like heaven."
"I smell like you."
"That's why you smell like heaven."
"A little self love never hurt anyone."
"Self love, huh? Stop putting naughty thoughts in my head."
"When are there not naughty thoughts in your head?"
He rolls over and I move into him, so my nose is close against his chest. I need the contact, because this doesn't feel real.
Like we've never had that weird pillow talk stuff until last night and we've never faced each other like this, the morning after, either.
It's that simple.
Does he feel like I do right now?
God… because it's… and I'm….
"Edward – " I begin.
"Yes?" His hands come to rest on the back of my head.
I'm pathetic. I really am.
There just aren't words that even begin to explain this. Us.
He leans back so he's looking into my eyes. "I know."
Then his lips are on me and words don't matter because whatever this is between us, doesn't need them.
We're grasping and clawing and he's hard against my thigh.
Three bangs on the door.
"Hey, I like morning hanky-panky too, but you don't see me hula hooping at the expense of someone else's bladder!"
Edward groans against my mouth, but doesn't stop kissing me.
"I guess I forgot to pass… on the message."
"Good," he says fingering the collar of his shirt. "Don't."
His cell goes off.
Mumbling under his breath, he reaches behind him and answers without looking at the screen.
"Alice? – Why're you calling me? Yeah, I know its Christmas morning. I realise Rosalie needs to pee…. No, I don't care what my shower does to your pores…..I don't like eggnog. No, you can't talk to Bella. Bye."
He hangs up.
"What if I wanted to talk to her?"
"Trust me, you don't."
"What if….you're right."
I grab his face in my palms. Edward rolls on top of me and…w h o a.
Good morning to you too.
"Honey, do you want to come downstairs and unwrap your presents?"
"I also, erm, I think Rosalie needs the bathroom."
Edward closes his eyes and shakes his head like he's shaking away bad memories, and then looks at me apologetically.
He sits up and runs his hand through his hair.
Wait. Where is he---
I stare at him.
No, no, no!
You can't do this to me Edward Cullen!
Edward leans down and grabs his jeans.
He just did.
Nothing to kill a boner like a little bit of parental love.
Now, I'm pissed.
I jump off bed and walk into the bathroom without a glance behind me.
I'd say that the bathroom of choice is marble floored with a Jacuzzi, a gold-plated tub and pre-heated toilet seat. But it isn't, so I don't get the noise about it.
The only interesting is the mirror, which spans the entire width of the front wall and highlights your face in way that makes you want to take a step back.
The fit-out doesn't seem very Carlisle-like, but hey, we're all allowed to have pimpin' moments, I guess.
And is that a pimple?
I throw off Edward's shirt and get into the shower, then splutter as ice cold water hits my face full speed.
Shit, shit, shit!
"Here, let me."
Edward is standing behind me, sounding amused. He leans forward and does something magical and voila!
I don't resist when he takes hold of my shoulder and pushes me in the shower so I get warmer.
When I've stopped shivering and flapping, I notice Edward.
He's still here, one hand on the shower door, watching me intently.
I bite my lip, but don't cover myself or turn away.
Instead, I face him completely as the water splashes down my body, allowing him to take a look at what he's missing.
And boy does he take me in.
Edward's eyes travel the entire length of my body, taking his time like he's memorizing me, penetrating me without as much as a touch.
Now that shouldn't be allowed.
When his eyes land on my face again, I need to hold onto the wall to balance myself.
Well, I didn't expect that.
I can barely hear him over the noise of the shower when he speaks.
"We need to get outta here. I want to take you to my place, my room, my bed. Come with me, Bella. Tomorrow. It'll be just the two of us."
He's sincere and earnest and making these promises that make my heart beat faster. I just can't be pissed anymore.
"It's just that it's Christmas and they're--"
"And they like to--"
"Considering they were able to over-ride default yesterday and give us time probably means that they'll over-repent for their actions today. "
"It's okay." I mumble.
He doesn't need to explain any of it to me.
They're crazy, nosey, over-protective and all that other stuff that can give any privacy-needing soul a shock to the system.
And truth be told, it feels strangely honest and a lot like family should be.
Even though it seems like it, the world won't end if I don't sex-up Edward Cullen on Christmas morning.
"Look," I say, shoving my plastered hair away from my face and using my rational voice. I haven't used it in such a long time that it doesn't actually sound like me. "It's Christmas morning, Edward. We should be unwrapping presents, enjoying eggnog, stuffing turkeys-- whatever… It's probably making Charlie really uncomfortable thinking about what we're doing up here and well, Rosalie really should pee before she christens the hall-way. "
"Yeah," he muses, "true."
"We can wait. I can wait. So go. Go placate Emmett, tell him that I hate him immensely but I'm just about done here," I keep on, even though it hurts like hell to say it.
Edward nods once and then moves away and I close my eyes and turn around, feeling depressed and slightly suicidal.
Be still my beating heart.
Nobody can understand the pain I've endured—
The shower door closes and I open my eyes.
Edward just stepped into the shower. In his jeans.
Rivulets of water run down his face, his chest, making his jeans wet and cling tighter to him. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.
"If you're just here to tease me by doing suggestive eye thing but not really doing anything, I'm going to have to ask --"
"What?" My mouth is dry as much as my body is wet.
"Turn around, Bella."
His chest hits my back as he reaches over me. "Shampoo," he says simply, opening the bottle and squeezing into his palms, like I might forget to use it.
I don't bother ask why he's not taken full advantage of my compromising nature to forfeit sexy time as he was so adamant to do. I'm much too busy concentrating on what he's doing right now.
His hands are on me, foaming my hair, my neck, allowing it to rinse.
The excess suds fall on to my chest and he takes them from behind, his fingers moving back over my hips, moving over my ass.
I swallow hard.
He comes back up and gently rubs along my collar bone, pausing to get some shower-gel and then he takes hold of my breasts from behind me.
Air whooshes from my lungs as he cups one in each hand, circling and foaming them symmetrically, using his thumbs to rub my nipples.
Then down again.
He grabs my hip and turns me around, his movement aren't near as urgent as I want them to be.
"Open up, Bella."
I hiccough and part my legs as he kneels in front of me, his face eye level with my chest and I watch almost unconsciously as beads of water drip from his lower lip.
His hands starts at my left ankle and in this achingly slow way that makes me want to grab them and press them into a rude place, he moves upward, reaches my upper thigh and then starts the torturous process on the other leg.
He's going to kill me.
By the end of his assault my lips are parted and I'm breathing like I do after ten minutes on the tread-mill.
He kisses my stomach and I whimper, tangling my fingers in his soaked hair.
"Why haven't you gone yet?"
He looks up at me, hair matted, eyelashes separated.
So darn pretty.
"Well that explains everything."
Edward stands up.
"Because I couldn't just leave you, because I'm insanely turned on, because Rosalie can use another damned bathroom."
Wasn't all of that obvious, earlier?
"Yes," he says fingering my shoulder-blade.
"Is it because I relented and said you should go?"
"Really? Because I'm not so sure. I think if I had debated my point and lured you into staying, we probably would have argued and had the fastest break-up in history….In fact I think it's my morning generosity where I asked you to go, that's actually made you not want to go and come back to me."
I smile triumphantly, because I'm so smart.
And they say women are complex.
"Are you going to stand here and pointlessly argue with me, or are you going let me fuck you before somebody breaks in?"
My eyes widen at his forthrightness.
Well, that's a stupid, stupid question Edward Cullen.
But just one more thing.
"You know, there is something to be said—"
Edward slams his mouth against mine.
Oh, forget it.
Our fingers and bodies tangle, grunts and gasps mingling with the ricocheting water.
He's got me against the shower wall. I grab at tufts of hair as he bites my neck, his hands tugging at material around his waist which clings mercilessly to his body.
My hands dip below the waist-band and I help him shrug out of the wet denims.
He pops up, unrelentingly hard against my stomach.
I look up at him.
"What about Emmett?"
"What about Emmett?"
"What about Alice? And the Christmas presents and eggnog and Charlie and his BB gun?"
Edward stiffens. "What?"
"I don't care. I don't care about any of it."
He means it.
Not even the gun.
The tiles are cold against my spine as he grabs my butt and slides me roughly up against the slippery wall so I'm level with him
I turn my face toward the showerhead as he kisses my shoulder, my nipples, my lips.
There's moaning, pelting water, molesting fingers – I'm not entirely sure which sensation to concentrate on, so I just go with it and remember to breathe.
"I couldn't wait, Bella. I don't care about what I'm meant to do on Christmas morning. I just need you."
"Maybe you're meant to do me?"
He laughs, "You're incredible."
He lets go of me briefly and positions his dick against my entrance, before grabbing my thigh again.
I finger his lower lip.
"Flattery doesn't get you anywhere, you know."
"I think it just did."
Then without any warning, he pushes into me.
Heat explodes through my face and my fingers dig into his back as I balance at that fine precipice of pleasure and pain, waiting for my body to accommodate Edward.
But then he simply makes it better like he always does.
I hold on hard as he moves. It feels amazing, but everything's slippery, way too wet and steamy and he's sliding out of me.
"Bella… can you --" I shift my hip, Edward slips out.
"Here let me, I'll--"
"No, wait, not like that…" his fingers loosen around me and I glide down the wall, my feet hitting the floor.
"Edward?" I grab at his neck.
I can barely see him through the steam.
He picks me up and we hit the shower wall, clumsily.
Shower sex ya'll - it's not like in the movies.
We're moving and he carries me out of the shower. The cold air is like coming up after being underwater too long.
He shoves me against the counter ledge, against the mirror. Shower cream, a razor and various toiletries clang to the floor to accommodate me.
"Better?" he asks grittily.
The cabinet mirror on the opposite wall reflects our image. Edward leaning into my dripping body as my arms circle his neck. His hands against the mirror each side of me, my hair bedraggled and my face and skin a sharp crimson from the shower.
The picture is sensual...erotic as hell.
Then I catch Edward looking at me from the larger mirror, our eyes connect and fire sears through my body, making me ache all over.
I pant out short gasps and lift my hips, toppling forward.
He moves fast, keeping me up with his leg, his hands move to my inner thighs, pushing me against the mirror and then pulling me apart.
"Bella, this is going to be --- I'm going to be a little selfish okay? "
"Edward," I gasp, the mirror smashing into my back, "Please."
He nods and leans over the counter, into his shave kit and oh—condom.
He places one hand back on the mirror as he rolls it on. I put my hands on each side of the ledge for leverage, lifting myself up, and his free hand comes under me. Then we're lined up and he slides in.
Using one hand to guide me to him, he moves fast, desperately, but not selfishly.
I need this as much as he does.
My face is contorted, his gasps fevering my forehead and my aching nipples scratching his chest with every raw thrust.
I throw my head back watching him pound into me from the opposite mirror which is fast steaming over.
Sliding my arms under his, I curl them around his damp shoulders. I can't tell anymore if he's wet with water or sweat, or if it's me or him that clinging harder and wanting more.
A frustrated growl escapes my mouth as our accession continues and continues without any sign of relent and its completely different from last night.
It's not just about coming together anymore. It's about what we've missed, what we've endured. The frustration, the need, the build-up over the years.
I move with him, meeting every advance with my own, like an equal. My body angling, curving grasping at things to remain balanced.
This is the first time we kissed in the cupboard in his bedroom.
This is the first time we discovered each other on the third step on the staircase.
This is our time at sixteen.
This is my sadness when Edward didn't invite me to his birthday, or every time he smiled at Tanya.
This is the elation that comes from hope, the kick to the gut that comes from rejection.
This is our longing every Christmas. Our uncertainty, our inability to reach an ending… a finish.
Our dance regains intensity; our thrusting is shorter, sharper, more fervid because what we both want is one and the same thing.
To be renewed from our past, to be overtaken completely.
"Unh, yes." I'm almost crying as tiny, monumental ripples start to form inside me.
He feels it too.
"Fuck," he curses in my ear, going harder and making my toes curl because they always do that when Edward plays to my fetish and talks dirty.
"More," I whimper, because I really have no problem begging.
I can feel his nose in my hair as he whispers more at me.
His words are pretty darn filthy and I probably should have recorded them and used them for black-mail purposes because I had no idea that Edward could even think up this stuff.
And he's good.
Man, he's GOOD.
His talk makes my stomach tug sharply and oh God….
I lock around him and there's this moment where our eyes meet in the mirror everything is fiery white because there's shock upon shock barraging through my body.
They pile on top of each other, one after the other, my fingers digging into his skin to keep from falling.
My insides grip him cruelly, depravedly as I pulsate, clamping him again and again.
His mouth covers mine – to cover my violent noises or have me even more, completely,– I'm not sure.
Edward gasps into my mouth in sync with my own sounds. The sensations throwing him off each time they hit me, allowing him to become intimate with my every experience.
His breath's come harder as he thrusts and I know his control is waning and then it's his moment too.
He arches and makes that beautiful face and I pull him deeper inside, taking everything he has to give, peaking together.
Edward looks up from my clammy forehead and I try to regain some semblance and breath. "Wow that was… what was that?"
I follow Edwards gaze as he looks around us. Fogged-up mirrors, toiletries all over the floor, water everywhere and Emmett yelling something far, far away.
He shrugs and smiles lazily. "Exactly how Christmas morning is meant to be."
Damn they're a horny twosome, aren't they? So, what did you think of morning lovin' and of Bella finally "compromising"? Well, Kinda ;)
I may just have one more outtake for ya!
See you around!