Tattward & Inkella One-Shot Contest
Title: Daughter of Privilege
Your pen name: SweetDulcinea
Characters: Edward and Bella
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Stephenie Meyer.
To see other entries in the Tattward & Inkella Contest, please visit the C2 page:
Endless thanks to keepingupwiththekids, ForeverYoung82 & Ali
We all sat around the enormous boardroom table waiting. I had never sat at a table this large in all my life. Well, not unless you count cafeteria tables from my school days. This motherfucker was huge…and shiny. I had never seen a table so shiny. I was almost afraid to touch it. It was simply impossible to touch the overly lacquered surface without leaving a smudge or fingerprint. You could practically see your reflection in it, and frankly, that's kind of weird. Wood is not supposed to be reflective. I wondered if someone would swoop in after every meeting and polish the vast surface back to perfection. I sort of hoped so. I could just hear the office gossip now.
"Can you believe that Masen? He left a huge smudge on the table. What a slob!"
A hard kick under the table drew me back to the present.
"Chill out, man," my buddy Emmett said, leaning over to whisper in my ear.
"Huh? Yeah…I'm just a little out of my element here."
"Relax, you'll be fine. You're sweating bullets, and if you don't stop you're going to stink up the room before she even gets here."
I nodded twice, shifting in my oversized office chair and tugging on my tie. This was not my style – not the boardroom, not the shiny table, and definitely not the stiff dress shirt and tie.
I glanced at my watch to check the time. "Tell me again why we had to be here twenty minutes early?"
"Simple," Emmett replied quietly so that only I could hear. "She's never late. If a meeting is at nine o'clock, she arrives at nine on the dot or earlier, but she will absolutely not be late. You don't want to see what she does to people who walk into her meetings after she's already begun."
"Oh," I replied dumbly.
I had no idea what to make of the woman who would arrive at any moment to direct our meeting. I only knew what Emmett told me about her.
Isabella Swan, daughter of New Hampshire Governor Charlie Swan and New Hampshire Supreme Court Justice Renee Swan. Ivy League bred, third generation. Her father had just announced his candidacy for the upcoming presidential election, and that was why we were here.
Apparently, this woman was serious business. She graduated Suma Cum Laude in political science, and went on to work for Fox News. She had been involved in politics her entire life through her parents, and rumor had it she was in the process of writing her first book on the misconceptions of conservative values. To say I was intimidated before I even met her was an understatement. She would probably laugh in my face and tell me to get out before I even had the opportunity to present my ideas for the campaign.
Something caught my attention, and my eyes darted around the room. Almost everyone was as still as I had been. Some people were scribbling notes on oversized tablets, while others held whispered conversations amongst themselves. Assistants and interns were holding up the walls. As I scanned each face, I realized it wasn't anyone in the room that alerted me. An unexplainable feeling overtook my senses. It was her. At any moment she would enter, and I knew my life would never be the same. Call it a subconscious, uncanny sixth sense, but it was a powerful feeling of truth in the depth of my gut.
Seconds later, I watched the doorknob turn, and she walked into the boardroom.
Isabella Swan, my mind chanted, wishing I could say it aloud to feel it roll off my tongue.
She was the picture of confidence and perfection. With fluid movements, she strolled to the head of the table and gave us a smile that was both businesslike and sweet. Her shoulders were squared, held back with poise that seemed to come naturally. My eyes drifted over her lean, tight body. She wore a black skirt suit with that hugged her curves in a sinful manner. Her mahogany hair was long and shiny, and big brown eyes complemented her peaches and cream complexion. Despite being the sexiest woman I had ever encountered, she looked completely professional. It felt as if I needed a haircut and some manscaping just to be in her presence.
"Good morning everyone," she began, and I thought I would melt. Never in my life have I thought such a pussy thing about a woman, but I swear that I could have turned into a puddle at the sound of her voice.
"In case you are unaware, I am Isabella Swan, but you may call me Bella in the office. I am certain you understand my connection to this campaign. I assure you I am not here because my daddy gave me a job. My purpose is to lead this team in developing a successful campaign for Governor Swan, and assuring his victory. I am not a cheerleader, and neither are you. Each person in this room has a specific duty. If you do your job well, you will be rewarded. The possibilities for permanent staff positions are endless for the right people, and I am well connected within the media. This campaign is built on integrity and a true desire to make our country a better place. We will not seek favor through gimmicks or false promises. If you cannot uphold the vision of this team, you may leave now."
All eyes in the room darted around nervously, watching to see if anyone had the nerve to get up and leave. Of course, no one did, and the meeting continued.
"Very well. I hope to become acquainted with each of you soon. Our first order of business this morning is…"
The lights dimmed, and a slideshow presentation began on the history and politics of Charles Wayland Swan. Bella narrated as we followed along in the coordinating handbooks we had each received. As far as she was concerned, that book was our bible. We were to memorize it cover to cover. As representatives of Governor Swan, she required that we understand his life, his values, and his plans for our country.
The history lesson continued until lunchtime when we were given an hour break. Everyone was filing out anxiously, but Emmett grabbed my arm and held me back.
"Someone make sure there are chairs brought in for the afternoon session. I do not want anyone standing, it's too much of a distraction," Bella called out as Emmett pushed me toward her.
She looked up from the briefcase she was organizing and smiled at my friend towering over her. "Emmett, it's great to see you again," she said, extending her hand. He shook it, and then angled his head in my direction.
"Bella, I would like you to meet Edward Masen. He is the art and design specialist I hired for the advertising team. Bella, Edward. Edward, Bella," he said, gesturing back and forth between us.
Her eyes became curious as she looked me over, and she extended her hand for mine. "Edward, I'm happy to finally meet you. Emmett speaks very highly of your work, and he has great faith in you. You certainly have an interesting resume. I must admit I'm curious to see what you can come up with for the campaign."
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, too. I'm looking forward to the opportunity," I said with a shy grin. My hand rose to run through my hair, but I stopped the unprofessional, nervous habit and stuffed it in my pocket instead.
At lunch, Emmett went on about some "fine ass blonde" he was taking out tonight, but my thoughts were on Bella. I tried to make sense of that feeling I got before she walked in the room, but there was nothing logical about it. Seeing her only served to confirm that strange reaction. I was irrevocably enamored with this woman, yet she was completely out of my league.
My thoughts strayed to how I found myself in my current position.
"You have extraordinary talent, Edward, but you must think sensibly about your future. An art degree won't get you far without a Masters Degree or something else to support it."
I looked helplessly at my advisor and mentor, Carlisle Cullen. He had taken me under his wing since I came to the university. I was 18 years old and a bit naïve about what the future held. Carlisle was assisting me in carving the path for my next four years of college.
"What do you suggest?" I asked.
"That depends," he said, tapping his pen on his desk. "How serious are you?"
"I can be as serious as I need to be. No one is going to support me when I graduate. I need to be able to survive on my own."
"Very well then," he smiled. I watched him lean forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "My suggestion would be to major in graphic design and minor in marketing. If you take up a concentration in advertising and another in fine arts, you'll be able to do almost anything you choose."
"A minor and two concentrations, do you find that necessary?" I asked nervously. The thought of so many responsibilities was a bit overwhelming, but I trusted him.
He smiled once more. "Edward, I want to see you succeed. A little hard work for the next four years will open more doors than you could possibly imagine. The field of graphic arts is broad and you will learn how to use your skills to thrive. The fine arts concentration will allow you to continue taking the art courses you prefer. As far as the marketing and advertising go, you need to know how to sell yourself and manage your finances, should you choose to venture out on your own. You'll be extremely well rounded if you follow my plan."
"I'm not sure I can do it all. It feels like so much."
"I'll be here with you, son. Do your best, and I will see you through it until the end."
Carlisle had been right about everything.
I worked hard and kept academics as my first priority during those four years. I was paying my own way through state school in Pennsylvania, and I couldn't afford to screw up my future. He coached and cheered me on, and when graduation day came, he sat in place of my dearly departed parents.
I started out small, designing concert posters for local bands, selling flash to tattoo shops, and creating logos for my friends who did rally racing. Word of mouth helped immensely as I learned how to sell myself to prospective clients. In only a few years, I had evolved into a successful freelance artist. By the time Emmett approached me for my current job, I was designing album covers and concert goods for thirteen major record label bands and artists.
As my success grew, I worked with many professionals, but never changed who I was. I have always been a 'take me as I come' kind of guy, which meant jeans, tee shirts, crazy hair, and too many tattoos to count. Now I was wearing dress clothes my college roommate picked out after he hired me to be on his strategic advertising team for the governor. These stuffy clothes cover my ink, but could I conform to the requirements of this job? I struggled to see how I would be accepted into the Right Wing stereotype.
Don't get me wrong, I was not a liberal. My body and clothes may make people think otherwise, but my personal ideals are more right wing than left. From what I've learned about Charlie Swan, he is a good man and highly qualified to lead our nation. My concerns with my appearance, background, and worthiness of Bella plagued me. What would the clean cut politician think of a state school graduate, freelance artist, and poster boy for Miami Ink? Would his smart, alluring, accomplished daughter ever look at me as anything more than an employee? I was successful in my own respect, but I was not of their pedigree.
Before my lamenting could go any further, Emmett had paid our lunch tab and was leading me out of the restaurant. We devoted the remainder of the day in the boardroom listening to other team members educate us on the upcoming campaign strategies. The rest of the week was spent with our departments, developing ideas based on our assignments.
Two weeks passed without Bella's presence in the office. She was returning that afternoon to begin her first round of department consultations on new developments and assignments. The team Emmett and I worked with had been extremely productive. The commercials, slogans, and banners we had created so far were a huge success. We worked closely with the media production and web departments, and everyone was getting along great.
We stood outside the large boardroom waiting for our meeting to begin. When the previous team exited, we all filed in, taking our seats with the already present Bella. I ended up in the seat closest to her, causing my heart rate to speed up at her proximity. She was as beautiful as ever, and I was thrilled just to be in the same room.
"Edward," she said about halfway through the meeting. "We are preparing to launch the first round of our web campaign. We already have a fantastic site, but we are expanding and are launching ads on all of the major social networking sites as well as many of the popular blogs. I need you to create something for them. Here are the photos of Governor Swan we would like to use," she said sliding a folder across the table to me. "We want something that pops. A new logo, a catchy phrase, and a great design; you have done a great job so far, see what you can come up with."
"What's the deadline?" I asked.
"A week from Friday. Now Emmett, let's go over your plans for the Iowa caucus."
As the conversations carried on around me, I browsed through the photographs Bella had given me, making some sketches on a notepad. The boardroom was uncomfortably warm, so I mindlessly unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled my sleeves. I went back to my sketches, half listening to the discussions around me.
Scott, another team member, was talking when an uncomfortable feeling ran up my spine. I looked up to see Bella staring at my arms…or should I say the uncovered sleeve of tattoos on each of my arms. Her lips were pursed and eyebrows raised. I pulled my arms off the table and hid them in my lap, quickly sliding my shirt back in place. Our eyes met briefly, and her expression went blank before looking away. I sat in silence for the rest of our meeting.
Ten days later, I was at my workstation sorting through piles of posters. They were the small hand held signs that were passed out at speeches and campaign stops. The designs and slogans would carry over to yard signs, window posters, and bumper stickers, so they had to be perfect. Several dozen prototypes were spread out in front of me as I made notes on colors, graphics, and fonts.
"These look great," said a sultry voice from behind me. I'm sure Bella didn't intend to sound like a phone sex operator, but in my ears she was the spokeswoman for my every fantasy.
"Thanks. I'm comparing the visual appeal of various color tones and fonts," I replied, trying to pretend that her mere presence didn't have me on edge.
"You have too many for this workspace. Let's go into the boardroom and get them spread out where we can see them all at once."
I gathered the posters together and followed her into the empty boardroom. We carefully arranged the various sets and stepped back to look at them. I was immediately back to my tablet, scratching out notes as we discussed the pros and cons of each design. We must have been in there forty-five minutes when we finally sat down and looked over my notes. Together, we developed a few more ideas we wanted to try by swapping colors or tweaking font size.
We sat at the corner of the table, our seats perpendicular to one another as we shared my notes. We were contemplating borders when she leaned over the table, reaching for one particular poster. That's when I saw it. The fabric of her grey blouse stretched tightly across her chest, clinging to the obviously thin bra beneath. Through the light fabric, I could distinctly see the outline of her hardened nipples. Beside each one was a small, round bump. I stared longer than appropriate when it hit me.
She had her nipples pierced.
Holy fucking hell, she has her nipples pierced!
My mouth watered involuntarily and I instantly felt my dress slacks constrict against the pressure of my massive stiffy. I was hard as a fucking boulder, and I was still staring at her tits like a hungry newborn. She cleared her throat, and my eyes shot back up to find her grinning at me like a damn Cheshire Cat. I swear her chest shook with silent laughter, but I didn't dare look back down to see.
"Well then, I can see that you've got some hard work to do, so I'll let you get to it," she said suggestively as she stood and moved toward the door.
"Yeah…right. I'll see you later," I replied, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. When I thought she was gone, I let my forehead fall to the table with a loud thud. I groaned and banged my head off the stupid shiny table a few more times for good measure.
I whipped my head around and saw that she was still standing in the doorway, looking more amused than ever.
"Just so you know, there's a private bathroom in the boardroom." Then she winked at me and strolled off with the grace and poise she always possessed.
Fuck. My. Life.
Fifteen minutes before the end of our workday, Bella floated in and stopped next to Emmett and Scott.
"Round up your team. We're going to happy hour, my treat," she said sweetly.
"Hell yes," Emmett said, giving Scott a fist bump.
As she passed my workstation, she tapped the top of my desk. "See you there, Edward."
What was that? Oh right, fuck my life.
"What's the matter with you?" Emmett asked me as we walked through the bar parking lot.
"Nothing," I hedged. "Crazy day."
"You nervous about seeing Sexy Swan outside the office?" he teased, punching me in the arm.
I rubbed my upper arm and scowled at him. "Screw you, McCarty."
"What? You think I can't recognize your 'I wanna fuck that girl' eyes? I have news for you, buddy, I lived with you for three years. I can tell when a woman drives you crazy."
"Just shut up," I pleaded. I really had no interest in discussing my inappropriate attraction to my superior.
"Simmer down, Eduardo. She likes you. Do you really think she wants to hang out with those geeks and me tonight? Fuck no. This is about getting you out of the office."
A glimmer of hopefulness ran through me, but I quickly squashed it out, along with any fantasy I had about seeing those nipple rings. I stayed silent, increasing my pace as we approached the entrance.
Emmett's arm shot out, holding the door closed. He looked down at me and grinned. "You are strung way too tight, my friend. I'm telling you, I've seen chicks get all hypnotized by your sex hair, and Bella has joined the club."
I had never been in this particular bar - I swear it was almost an exact replica of Cheers. The only difference was a modest stage that ran across one side of the room. Bella and our co-workers were already seated at what would have been Norm and George's corner. Several pitchers of beer lined the bar, and a bartender deposited two frosted mugs in front of us when we joined our co-workers.
We all sat together bullshitting about anything other than work. I avoided making eye contact with Bella, but there were several times I caught her watching me. My sleeves were rolled up, and she kept looking at my tattoos. I didn't want her to get a bad impression of me, but she already knew they were there, so I said fuck it. Not to mention that she had her damn nipples pierced, but I was trying really, really hard not to think about that.
A couple hours passed and everyone trickled out of our company. Most of the guys were married with wives and children waiting at home. Emmett was the last one to linger, but he took off, claiming he had a date.
"Uhh, I guess I should go," I said to Bella as I watched Emmett walk out the door. I finished my beer and pushed my stool back to stand. Before I could get up, Bella's hand wrapped around my wrist in a silent command to stay. Every hair on my arm rose at the thrill of her touch.
"How about a game of pool first?" she asked innocently. "There's a game room in the back." She flicked her thumb over her shoulder, directing my gaze down the hall.
"Yeah, sure. Eight or nine ball?" I asked.
"Eight ball, APA rules."
I ordered another pitcher of beer and grabbed our mugs before heading back. I set everything on a bar table and poured out our drinks. Bella racked the balls, lifted the wooden triangle from the formation, and moved to the wall to select a cue.
"Would you like to break?" she asked.
"No, no," I shook my head. "Ladies first. Show me what you've got."
She smiled mischievously and leaned over the table. My eyes were, of course, on her cleavage, and I could swear there were one or two fewer buttons done up than earlier. She sunk one solid and one straight on the break. She chose solids and sunk one more before my turn came. Still hypnotized by her breasts and the secret that lay beneath her bra, I scratched on my first shot. We quipped back and forth about our shots as the game continued, sipping on our beers between turns. I wasn't sure I was capable of thinking about anything else. I lost with four of my balls still on the table.
"You really need to loosen up, Edward," she said, stepping dangerously close to me. I backed up a few steps, but ran into the long side of the table.
"I just, umm, suck at pool."
"Everyone can learn," she purred. Yes, fucking purred. "But you need to relax, starting here."
I stood stalk still as she loosened my tie and unknotted it before tossing it onto the table with our beers. Her hands came back up to my neck and began unhooking buttons…first the one at my neck, and then two more. She pulled my shirt open slightly, running her fingers over the newly exposed skin. More of my tattoos were now visible.
"Much better," she smiled. "Turnabout is fair play."
"Excuse me?" I ask, trying to decode what she could have meant.
A delicious giggle escaped her as she looked into my eyes. "You've been staring at my chest all day. It's only fair that I get to do the same."
"I, umm…shit, I'm sorry Bella. It's just…fuck," I grumbled.
She took another step and pressed against me. "Sorry for what, Edward?" Her voice was smooth and didn't hold an ounce of the nervousness mine did. I willed myself to get over my stupid fear of this woman, but my thoughts constantly returned to her position of power. I could lose my job if I screwed this up, or worse yet, I could ruin her reputation if people found out she was slumming with a guy like me.
"You're driving me fucking crazy," I admitted helplessly. My eyes were squeezed shut, but I could still feel her body against mine.
"Tell me what drives you crazy," she whispered in my ear. Her tongue darted out, licking the lobe before drawing it between her lips. "Or you could always show me." Her mouth moved quickly to my mine, locking me into a kiss.
My arm snaked around her waist, while the other moved up to tangle in her hair. I deepened the kiss, forcing her lips open and wrapping my tongue around hers. The beer had obviously taken its toll, and the combination of lowered inhibitions and Bella's words spurned me forward. I kissed her hard, forcefully, and without hesitation.
"You want me to show you?" I growled.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes. Show me."
I looked around the room and saw a door with the universal restroom sign on it. Pulling her into the single bathroom and locking the door, I was grateful that it seemed clean and seldom used. Could anything have stopped me in that moment? Unlikely.
With her back pressed against the door, I feverishly began unbuttoning her shirt, tugging it out of her skirt until her bra-clad breasts were exposed to me. She was gasping and panting, grabbing at my hair as she tried to pull me toward her.
"This," I palmed both of her breasts. "This is what has been driving me crazy all fucking day long, Bella. Not just these beautiful, perfect tits of yours, but what I know is here."
I thanked Jesus himself and every Saint I could remember for her front clasp bra as I flicked it open and watched her breasts tumble out to me. "Fuuuuuck," I groaned before diving down to take one of her nipples into my mouth. My teeth tugged on the ring while my hand took the other pebbled peak between my fingers and squeezed. I was attacking her like a crazed animal, alternating back and forth on her delicious mounds as I moaned and groaned against her skin. Her reactions were just as wild. She pulled my hair roughly, crying out in a delicate soprano.
"Oh god, Edward…feels so…good. Fuck! Fuck! Edwaaaaaard!"
My mouth broke away unwillingly, but my hands gladly took its place and continued kneading at her tender flesh. I played around with the intensity of my tugs and pinches, gauging how much she could take, and what kind of reactions she had to the varied pressure. I reconnected to her lips, kissing her for several minutes before pulling back and resting my forehead against hers. My hands remained on her chest, but my movements were gentle and reverent.
All the nerves and anxiety I felt with Bella disappeared. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and there was no reason to hold back any longer. "You're such an unintentional little tease, Bella. When you leaned over that table earlier, I could see the outline of your fucking sexy nipple rings. It wasn't just your glorious tits I was staring at. All I've been able to think about is the naughty minx hiding behind that good girl façade of yours."
"Mmm…play with them again," she demanded, and I couldn't possibly say no. "Fuck, I love the sound of your teeth clinking against the rings. That turns me on soooooo much."
I sucked and nipped at her until I was so painfully hard I couldn't bear it anymore. I pulled myself back and clasped her bra. She looked at me with the most confused, flushed expression that I had to smile.
"I want you so bad…so bad, Bella, but I can't fuck you in a bathroom. I can't do that to you," I shook my head.
"It's okay, you're right," she affirmed, nodding. "Do you want to come back to my house?"
"Yes, yes…but no, not tonight. I will as soon as you want me to, just not tonight."
"We've had a lot to drink," she sighed.
I nodded and gave her a half smile.
She frowned suddenly, and I raised an eyebrow in question.
"I leave with my dad tomorrow afternoon. Three weeks of campaigning."
"Can I call you?"
Over the next three weeks, Bella and I spoke when we could, but her schedule was packed pretty tight. Between speeches, appearances, campaign parties, and communicating with everyone at HQ, she didn't have a lot of time to herself. Factor in traveling in different time zones, and it was a challenge to align our schedules. We had to settle for text messages much of the time, though that made the times we could talk even better.
I learned a lot about her in the short time we could speak. She told me about her work with Fox News, and I have to admit it was captivating. The world of news and politics was essentially a foreign language to me, yet she knew so much about it. I found that so sexy. She was smart, really smart. I had a feeling I was not the first man she had ever intimidated. In turn, I told her about my career, and how it had developed since college. She loved my freedom, and wanted to hear the stories behind all my tattoos.
Our comfort level grew with each phone call, and our flirtations became more suggestive. Two nights before she was scheduled to return home, we both lay in bed, fighting sleep to get a little more time together. As I was telling her a story about Emmett and me in college, I heard a rustling sound on her end.
"Bella, what are you doing?"
"Taking off my clothes," she said simply.
Oh god. "Why are you doing that?"
"Because the sound of your voice is driving me crazy, so I'm going to touch myself and pretend it's you."
"Shit…" I muttered so low I wasn't sure if she could hear me.
"Do you want me to tell you what I'm doing, Edward?"
"Uh huh," I mumbled, feeling myself harden, and shifting to shove my boxers down my legs.
"I've got my tit in my hand, but it doesn't feel as good as when you touch me. God, Edward, you have no idea how many times I've replayed that night in my mind. I think about your mouth on me, and how good your soft tongue felt as you played with me. I swear if you had gone on a little longer I would have come just from that."
I groaned, starting to roll my balls in my hand as she continued.
"I told you how I like hearing your teeth against the rings. Fuck, you have no idea what that sound does to me. I love it when you pull on them and I love it when you bite. Promise you'll bite me like that when we're together again."
"Anything you want," I assured her.
"Good. Mmm…I'm sliding my hand down my stomach thinking about those long fingers of yours. I'm so wet for you, Edward…it feels so good. I want you to touch me."
"Do it," I encouraged her, taking my throbbing cock in my hand.
"Can you hear that? I'm soaked just thinking about you. That's what it will sound like when you fuck me. I want to see all your tattoos. God, they make me horny. That first time you pushed up your sleeves during our meeting I just wanted to rip your shirt off. You are so sexy."
We were both silent for a minute as I listened to her uneven breaths. I was stroking myself hard, completely lost in her explicit words. I pictured perfect, pristine Isabella Swan, the daughter of wealth and privilege, standing at the head our boardroom talking dirty to me. It was hard to believe something like that could come from her lips. My thoughts shifted to her lying on a hotel bed somewhere, naked and touching herself as she fantasized about me. She was exquisite in my imagination, and the knowledge that I was going to have her in reality in just a few short days sent me over the edge.
"Fuck!" I growled lowly as my hot seed erupted onto my stomach. I reached for my discarded boxers and wiped myself dry.
"Did you just come?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," I replied. "Now I want you to come for me. Think of me laying you out on that boardroom table while everyone else is outside the room working. I'd have to cover your mouth to keep you from screaming for me."
"Oh god…" Her little moans where faster and breathy. Finally, she let out one last, long cry before falling silent. I wanted to be there to lick her fingers clean. "Damn," she whispered.
"Bella, that was fucking beautiful."
She giggled at my words, and I felt my cock twitch at the lovely sound.
"I wish I was home right now," she lamented.
"You have no idea…" I agreed. "Do you know what you do to me, Isabella Swan? Everything about you draws me in, and for some reason you want me, too. You are so beautiful, so successful, and I'm just some tattooed slacker who doesn't fit into your world at all. You're showing me that naughty side, but we're just so different. I can't see why you would waste your time on me, but I'll take anything you're willing to give."
"Edward," she sighed. "We're really not so different. I may come from a prominent family, but there's a lot more to me than what you see in my outward persona. I'm not saying it's an act, but it is possible to stand on firm moral ground, be a professional, and have a darker side."
"Darker than pierced nipples and phone sex? I look forward to finding out what you mean," I chuckled. "I'm one lucky bastard."
"I have a feeling you'll like what I have in store for you. But listen, I'm booked solid until I get home. Don't make any plans for the weekend because your ass is mine once I get back."
"Yes ma'am," I said, feeling certain she could hear the smile in my words. "I look forward to it."
As I drifted off to sleep that night, I thought about all the dirty little secrets Bella could be waiting to reveal to me.
Bella returned to the office a few days later, but we had no opportunity to be alone together. Consulting with everyone at campaign headquarters meant there was a lot to catch up on after her absence. She was stuck in the boardroom with meeting upon meeting, and my mind was stuck on what I fantasized doing to her in that room. Everyone was putting in late hours, and our schedules never coincided until Saturday evening. When Bella invited me to her house for dinner, I gladly accepted her invitation.
I arrived with a bottle of wine, a bouquet of Oriental lilies, and a huge smile. She pulled me inside by the front of my shirt and kissed me hard against the door. My hands were otherwise occupied with my gifts, but I wrapped my arms around her waist to keep her body close to mine.
"Hi," she said softly when she finally pulled away. She was biting her lower lip in the most tantalizing way, and I willed Little Edward to relax for a bit longer.
"Hi," I replied with a smile I could not tame. "You look stunning."
She truly did. I had never seen Bella outside of her work attire; she was utterly delectable in dark jeans and a form-fitting sweater.
"Come on in. I'm just finishing dinner."
She led me to the kitchen where she transferred the contents of a sauté pan into a serving dish. We carried dinner to the dining room, then returned to the kitchen for the wine. I did the honors, pouring two generous glasses.
I sat down as she served me what appeared to be a mixture of chicken, pineapple, and various spices over rice. I had never tasted anything like it.
"Bella, this is delicious. Did you do something to the chicken? It's very good, but different somehow."
She smiled widely and laughed with some strange, pleased look in her eyes. "It's actually a vegetarian substitute. I don't eat meat."
"Really? I never would have guessed…about the chicken or you," I said with surprise. "Being a vegetarian seems a little too 'bleeding heart liberal' for someone like you."
"I fail to see how my dietary choices have anything to do with my personal or political views. I've never relished the thought of eating animals, nor have my parents, but we're not animal rights activists. We became vegetarians when I was still in elementary school."
"I didn't know. I'm sorry if I offended you. I guess you were right when you said there was a lot to learn about you."
She smiled, and I felt immediate relief for my misconception. "It's fine. People make many assumptions based on individual views and choices. It's one of the largest flaws of politics. People assume that all vegetarians must be animal rights activists, that gays are all left wing, that conservatives are uptight and close-minded…hell Edward, even you were afraid I would think less of your work because of the art on your body."
I was stunned at her words. She was so passionate when she spoke, and I saw another piece of why she was so well suited for her work. Bella stood for her ideals while trying to educate people and help them be open-minded. My respect for Charlie and Renee Swan grew in that moment, as did my appreciation for Bella's strong character.
"You always keep me guessing," I told her. "I'm learning so much from you."
"Good. Like I said, there's a lot you don't know about me yet, but I plan to show you."
After dinner, we took our glasses of wine as Bella gave me a tour of her house. I was surprised at the size – a two story, four-bedroom home, not including her office – but she informed me that her parents selected it when she decided to lead the campaign and move home. The house was simple in its décor, and I liked that Bella didn't feel the need to put on a show with her home. Each room had its own color scheme, but the decorations and furniture were minimal. The walls only held a few items, mostly pieces of art or photographs. It was tidy, yet signs of life appeared all over the house – an unopened stack of mail on a table, matches left next to a candle, shoes at the front door, and books on the coffee table.
But no room held more life than the bedroom she had converted to a library and entertainment room. An entire wall was lined with a built in bookcase, stuffed full and overflowing. I scanned the titles and found a massive variety of literature, political commentaries, poetry, old textbooks, and cookbooks. There were even a number of children's classics and a variety of theological works. Bella's mind was becoming increasingly more interesting by the moment. A plush sofa sat in the middle of the room along with two recliners. On the opposite wall was an entertainment stand with a large flat screen television and stereo system. She put on soft classical music before we nestled together on the couch.
We talked at length about her time away on the campaign trail, and I found myself surprisingly interested in her accounts of places they traveled and people they met along the way. I had yet to meet either of her parents, but I was growing fond of them through her stories and memories.
Our conversation wore down to a comfortable silence, and our empty wine glasses had been set aside on an end table. My feet were propped up on the ottoman, and my arm hung loosely over her shoulder. She tucked herself into my chest, humming lightly along with the current sonata wafting through her surround sound. Our outside hands were clasped together between us.
I closed my eyes, leaning down to lightly kiss the top of her head. She smelled like flowers, and I drank in the heavenly aroma as she snuggled closer to me.
"This is nice," she said softly. "I like being with you like this."
"I do, too," I agreed. "I don't deserve you."
She sat up abruptly and looked at me with the most adorable scowl. "Why do you say things like that? It's infuriating."
"I'm sorry if it sounds stupid to you, but look at us. Look at how different we are. You grew up in the public eye, you went to one of the most prestigious universities in the country, you worked for a major news network, and now you're heading a presidential campaign. I'm just some small town guy who has been lucky enough to hang out with musicians while doing something I would otherwise consider a hobby. The only reason I got this job is because of Emmett. You can't tell me I fit the same mold as the rest of the people working on your father's campaign."
I ended my rant with a heavy sigh, staring at the ceiling. Her dainty fingers grabbed my chin and yanked it back toward her.
"You can be so stupid, you know that?" she said harshly, but her eyes were soft.
"Thanks," I muttered, trying to turn away, but she wouldn't allow it.
"Listen to me, Edward. You had a connection through Emmett, yes, but that's not why you got the job. Your raw talent and ingenuity have driven your success, and you have become a valuable part of our team. Your upbringing and success may be different from mine, but they are no less meaningful. If you would just open your eyes, you would see that we're not so different at all. We both live passionately doing something we love. It doesn't matter what it is." I thought she was done, but she took a deep breath and continued. "Please tell me why you care so much about fitting in with everyone else? I'm sure conformity was the last thing on your mind in all the hours you spent getting those tattoos."
"That," I said with strong emphasis on the word as I smiled at her and felt my anxiety melt away. "That is why I don't deserve you. Every time I act like an idiot, you call me on my bullshit. I need someone like you in my life."
"I hope you don't mean just any someone. I'd be rather disappointed if you found yourself another ball-buster," she teased.
"Only you," I whispered, leaning in because I felt the inescapable need to kiss her. I planted my lips lightly against hers and smiled on her mouth.
She pulled back a few inches and rested her forehead against mine. "Anyway, I told you how hot I think your ink is. Have I mentioned your sexy hair or those bright green eyes I can't stop staring at? You are one hundred percent, Grade A fuckable, Edward Masen."
"Prove it," I demanded, nipping at her pouty lower lip.
She pushed me down on the sofa and lay on top of me, attacking my lips, cheeks, chin, jaw, and neck with fast, wet kisses. I wrapped my arms around her sleek frame, brushing over the small of her back, down the slope of her ass, and to her thighs. My hands spread across the back of her legs, gripping her toned body to pull her closer. We were unhindered this time – no public locations or telephone lines to separate our bodies or our need for one another. We kissed endlessly, taking turns to taste and savor each other's skin. I wanted every part of this woman, but I was in no hurry. We had all night to reach the finish line, and I planned to ensure she enjoyed every second of the journey.
"Come on," she said with a low, husky tone that sent chills up my spine. I tried to hold her to me as she rolled away, but she was too fast. I pulled myself off the sofa, readjusting my pants as I followed her out of the room and down the hall. She had already shown me the master bedroom, so I understood that was where she was taking me.
She led the way through the dark bedroom, stopping at her bedside table to set a touch lamp to its lowest light. I felt peaceful and anxious at the same time as she glided back over to me. I was standing near the end of her enormous bed, and she smiled up at me. Her fingertips grazed my shoulders, and then ran down my torso until they reached the hem of my shirt. She lifted it, and I gladly brought it over my head the rest of the way. Standing before her in only my jeans and boxers, her eyes wandered over my tattoos.
"Finally," she whispered, reaching out to touch my chest. She was smiling like a kid in a candy store.
"I guess that means you like them?" I chuckled, feeling my lips curl into a satisfied smirk.
"Ha!" she laughed aloud. "I don't think like is the appropriate word. You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen." She leaned forward and kissed the illustration over my heart. It was a jar holding various paintbrushes, pens, pencils, and charcoals – a symbol of my artist's heart.
"Mmm…" I hummed appreciatively. "I could say the same thing about you."
"Do you draw them all yourself?" she asked, her palms massaging my pelvic bones where her soft hands rested.
I combed my fingers through her hair, pushing it back off her face so I could kiss her. "Yes, most of them are my original pieces, but I've made a lot of friends along the way who have designed some for me. See this one?" I said, twisting slightly to point to a mermaid design along my side. She nodded. "My friend Jasper specializes in nautical designs. I can draw people, but his skills far surpass mine."
"She's beautiful," Bella mused, running her fingers over the length of the mermaid's outstretched body. I shivered under her touch, and she smiled up at me victoriously. "Tell me more."
I turned again so she could see some script along my lower back. "That writing is in Latin. My buddy Marcus did that one. He's amazing with calligraphy and words."
"What does it mean?"
"Child of God."
"I love it."
"Bella?" I said, turning back to face her. My arms went around the middle of her back, pulling her close to me. "We have all the time in the world for you to hear about my tattoos." With that, I bent down and placed my lips to the soft hollow behind her ear. She moaned lightly, and I continued down her neck.
She traced the muscular definition along my stomach, ending at the top of my jeans. When she flicked open the top button I stopped her.
"Let's reciprocate first," I said, reaching for her sweater.
"No," she shook her head. "My house, my rules. We'll get there in time." With that simple statement, she unzipped my jeans and allowed them to drop to my ankles. I stepped out of them, kicking the heavy fabric aside.
She reached up to kiss my lips, and then took two steps back. I watched with rapt attention as she lifted her sweater over her head, revealing a wife-beater style tank top. Her jeans came off next, leaving her in the snug shirt and lace panties. I instinctively closed the gap between us, palming her firm behind, and giving a little squeeze. She giggled, looking up at me with some unspoken thought in her eyes.
"Sit down," she said, gesturing toward the bed. She walked through a door, which I assume was her closet, and came out holding a long, dark scarf. My mind raced with the possibilities.
I held my arms open to her as she straddled my lap and made herself comfortable. She was holding the scarf in both hands and stretched it in front of my eyes.
"What are you doing?" I asked as she began wrapping it around my head, but I did not object.
"I just want you to feel," she whispered as she secured a knot, taking care not to wrap my hair up in the fabric. "I want you to stop over thinking everything and just feel how good we are together."
"Okay," I nodded because I could deny this woman absolutely nothing. She was like a drug to me, and I wanted to experience her high. Her mouth found my shoulder first, planting soft kisses in a fiery trail. She took hold of my arm and held it up as her lips moved down the length of it, finally drawing my hand to her mouth and sucking on one of my fingers. I groaned at the sensation of her sweet tongue wrapping around the long digit and imagined what it would feel like to fuck that pretty mouth. As she worked me over, my free hand drifted up the front of her shirt and I was shocked and delighted to find her braless. She must have slipped it off when she was in her closet, but I didn't really care that she didn't leave that job for me. My fingers connected to her nipple and gave the ring a playful tug.
She released my hand and sat up on her knees. "Scoot back," she instructed me, and I did as she requested. Once I was fully seated on the bed, she pushed me onto my back, repositioning herself over me. Our centers aligned perfectly as she sat back down, and I could feel how wet she was, even through the fabric of our respective undergarments. My hips instinctively pushed up into her, and she ground against me in kind.
"Bella, love, please let me see you," I begged, but she continued her grinding silently as her hands pressed into my stomach.
I reached up for her tank top, and this time she allowed me to lift it off her body. My hands reached for her breasts, seeking some relief from this junior high, torturous, not-so-dry humping. I wrapped my right arm around her back, drawing her down on top of me. My mouth search blindly until it found her breast again. As much as I hated not seeing her, she was right – my sense of touch was incredibly heightened under the blindfold.
She slid away from me again, stopping to kiss me momentarily before making a quiet descent down my body. She sucked at my collarbone, licked my nipples, dug her fingernails into my ribs, and lavished my abs with peppered kisses. I caressed her back, her shoulders, and her hair, anything I could as she drove me mad with desire. Her fingers played in the faint trail of hair below my navel and I shuddered with anticipation. Finally, she hooked them into the waistband of my boxers and tugged them down. My hips lifted and quickly they were gone.
"Holy shit," she whispered, and I couldn't help but shake with light laughter and pride. Her reverie was short lived, however, when I felt her mouth wrap around my hard length and engulf it.
"Bella," I uttered as a nearly silent prayer. She worked me over with passion and fervor, moaning around my cock. "So hot…pretty little mouth…so good…" I muttered, unsure if she could even hear my quiet words. "Bella, please," I panted. "I need you now."
She gave me a few more laps and twirls of her talented tongue before relinquishing her hold and slipping off the bed. I heard a drawer open, and felt the bed bounce lightly as she returned to me. A small ripping sound filled the otherwise silent air, the only sound until I growled in response to her unrolling a condom on me.
"Feel what you do to me, Edward." Her hand guided mine between her legs as I touched her soaked, swollen lips. Her little panties were gone, and I was grateful there would be no further delays. I rubbed her, but didn't dip inside. She was wet enough, and I wanted to save that honor for the real thing. I grabbed her hips, guiding her over me where I let her take control. She held herself at my tip – teasing, wiggling, torturing. Unable to wait any longer, I thrust upward, pulling her down at the same time. She was so fucking tight that I literally screamed.
I was not alone. Before I could even thrust again, she was writhing over me, screaming, "Oh my god, oh my god! Edward! Holy fuck…ahhh!"
"Are you…you okay?" I panted, wanting desperately to drive into her like a jackhammer.
"Yes…oh my god!" She moved up and down my shaft one time before falling onto my chest in a squirmy, panting heap.
"Fuck, Bella, did you seriously just come?"
"Uh huh…" fell from her lips in a shaky, stuttering sigh. "What do you do, feed that thing growth hormones?" she asked, giggling. Her petite body shook over mine, and I could feel the metal of her nipple rings against my skin.
"Umm, Bella?" I said after an agonizing moment.
I pushed my pelvis upward, reminding her of our current position, and seeking permission to continue.
"Oh! Oh!" she said in sudden understanding. Her hips responded to my movements slowly, sliding up and down my length with care as her hoarse moans returned. "Fuck Edward, you feel so good…"
I rocked insistently beneath her, dying to unleash the monster within me. "Bella, I need…I don't think…please, are you okay now?"
"Yes, baby. Show me what you need."
"Can I please take this thing off now?" I pleaded.
"Not yet, I have plans for that. Just feel Edward…feel how good you are inside me."
Her words were too much, she felt too good. I hugged her to me with one secure arm and rolled us. I was still inside her, and began pumping furiously once she was flat on the bed. Animalistic noises filled the room, blending so that it became nearly impossible to tell which of us they belonged to in the heat of our passion. She was incredible, working in synch with my body as if we were designed for one another. A second climax took control of her, causing my Bella to bite my lip and cry louder than the first time.
"Let me up," she said, pushing on my shoulders.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked, feeling panic and guilt in the pit of my stomach.
"No, I'm fine. I promise." Her lips met mine briefly, and she pushed again. "This is what I've been waiting for."
I had no idea what she meant, but I trusted her completely. I reluctantly pulled out of her, feeling my erection throb with need in her absence. I felt her moving beneath me, suddenly aware that she was positioned on her hands and knees, waiting for me.
"Come here," she instructed, while one of her hands reached to guide me back to her. My hands came to the curve of her ass and spread her open before I dove back inside. I was thrusting needfully, my hands scrambling from her hips to her thighs, to her breasts, to her ass, to the smooth expanse of her arched back. "Now, Edward. Take it off now," she commanded me.
Without hesitation, I ripped the thin scarf from over my eyes, blinking hard several times to readjust to the light in the bedroom, albeit very dim. I expected the sight of Bella's naked body below me to be a magnificent thing to behold, but I had no idea. Across nearly half of her back was a large, intricate, beautiful tattoo. The reality of it all hit me hard. Combined with the arch of her back, the roundness of her ass and her wild tangle of hair, I came hard and fast.
"Fuuuuuck, Bella!" I yelled, stiffening as my fingers dug into her hips. When my body finally calmed, I gave her a playful smack on the ass. After a quick trip to her bathroom to clean myself, I collapsed on the bed beside her. I pulled her into my arms, kissed her tenderly, and closed my eyes.
"That was amazing," she whispered into my chin.
"You are amazing," I corrected. "Why didn't you tell me? All this time…why did you hide it from me?"
"I wasn't hiding," she said shyly. "I just…I wanted to save it for the right moment. I was kind of hoping you would have that reaction."
I looked down at her and she was grinning smugly, but also blushing the most beautiful crimson. I kissed her again – longer, more lovingly. When I was done, I rolled her away from me gently so that I could take a closer look at her back. It was a gorgeous piece of body art, and I could tell that it must have taken hours and multiple sittings to complete. Starting to the left of her spine, just between her shoulder blades was the head of phoenix. The bulk of the tattoo and the bird went across her right shoulder blade and down her back. The wings were spread, and the tail was long and expansive. It was colored mostly in vibrant reds and oranges, with hints of yellow and blue for accent. At the base of her back were orange and blue flames that licked up toward the grandiose bird. In the open space on the left side of her back were a few simple words.
Destined to burn,
Destined to rise
I ran my hands over the lines of the mythical creature, from the head to its wings, down the back and along the bird's eccentric tail.
"Why a phoenix?"
"I've always loved the story, and the symbolism of having the tenacity to constantly recreate oneself. I wanted to keep that reminder with me."
"I love it," I told her honestly. "It's incredible, and just so…I don't even have words, Bella."
"We're not so different after all, are we?" She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me sweetly.
I held her in my arms as we drifted off to a peaceful, satisfied sleep. My thoughts turned to that picture of Bella I had clung to since the first time I met her – perfect and so far above me. The image I held of her was not the true Bella, it was Isabella Swan, daughter of the dynamic Governor Swan. I finally allowed it to morph with the truths she had revealed to me one at a time and her constant insistence that we were more alike than I understood. Things had changed.
We were finally where we needed to be; she was not my ill-conceived notion of perfection. The two of us were perfect together.
Endnotes: I love some Tattward =) I will admit that Edward's mermaid and Bella's phoenix (though smaller & without the words) are both tattoos I'd like to get one day.