DCM A/N: We are happy to have Emily Bowden squeezing us this week . Make sure to check out our blog to see her picture prompt www . dirtycheekymonkeys . blogspot . com Ready, set, squeeze!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Squeeze My Lemon~~~~~~~~~ 08.10.11~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Convertible, Jeans, and No Underwear
A one-shot by Emily Bowden
Squeeze My Lemon
The top is down, the wind blowing in my hair as countless school papers fly out of my open backpack. I haven't felt this alive in ages.
We've skipped school, taken my dad's old Chevy convertible, and me and my boyfriend are headed for places unknown. He's always been able to get me to be a rebel, and it feels good.
"How far do you wanna go, baby?" he asks me, looking at me from under his fuckhot shades. He has that smirk on his lips that hints of dirty things to come, and I feel my insides heat at the implication.
"Get us out of here," I holler, holding my hands up high and my head falling back as I let out a victory cry.
Edward laughs beside me. "Hang on tight!" He pushes the pedal to the metal and we are off, leaving our little town of Forks, Washington, in a blaze of glory and trails of homework left undone.
We've been under a shit-ton of stress lately. It's our senior year, and both sets of our parents have been harping on us to get our affairs in order. College applications, GPAs, SAT scores... it's never ending.
Edward is slated to be the valedictorian. Shit just came to him naturally. He's one of those hot guys who looks like he could make a girl cream just by winking at her, and I know he's set off a couple of hard-ons in his day, too. That kind of good looks shouldn't come in combo with the brain he's got, but my man has it all. He's the star quarterback, the pitcher for our varsity baseball team, and he wrestled in the state match this year. And he's a partier. He can chug a keg with the best of 'em but not make an ass out of himself once the alcohol sets in.
I know that when his classmates see him stand up on the podium as their representative, having earned the top grades in our class, some of them will shit a brick. Just makes him all the more sexier, in my opinion.
As for me, I'm the girl who has the squeaky clean exterior with passable grades. The lone artist, the dreamer. The girl who has her head in a book more than she doesn't. It's all a ruse, of course. Had to keep up pretenses, being the police chief's daughter, and all.
The screech of tires along gravel pulls my eyes away from the sky, and I see that Edward has pulled off the road.
"Where are we going?" I ask, delight and excitement in my tone.
"Somewhere I can take advantage of you," Edward replies. His voice is dripping sex.
"Baby, you can take me anytime, anywhere."
Edward wags his eyebrows, a wide grin spreading across his gorgeous face. He drives down a dirt road, acres of forest surrounding us on both sides. I look around us, my anticipation growing as I try to figure out where he has taken me.
A light cloud of dust surrounds us as he stops; the silent serenity of the forest is all I can hear. It's broken by the soft click of Edward's seat belt being releases, and then I feel nothing but his lips on my neck.
"Mmmm," I moan, encouraging his ravishing mouth by placing my hand behind his head, my own tilting to welcome his attention. His tongue peeks out, tracing along my collar bone, down to where the top of my shirt begins.
"Take your clothes off," he demands, low and heady, making me breathless. I love the sound of need in his voice.
"Did you bring a blanket?" I ask.
"Won't need one," he mumbles against my skin. His hands are busy ridding me of my shirt. I guess he feels I'm taking too long, and he wants my bare flesh against his.
He slowly releases the buttons from the front of my flannel shirt, each one like a tease, a torment, making my body heat as each small circle passes through its paired hole. His mouth follows the path of my parting shirt, revealing the pale skin beneath. His fingers search, spreading the fabric. I feel his mouth smile against the skin of my now-revealed shoulder.
"Naughty girl," he chuckles, his tongue coming out to lick me in emphasis.
"Bras are overrated," I half-moan, letting my head fall back onto the leather seat behind me.
"And undershirts?" he asks, his head trailing down my chest, his tongue searching for a peak.
My fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, the curls wrapping around my fingers as he lavishes me. God, I love the feeling of his tongue on my breast, the heat of his breath on my skin.
He scoots closer to my side of the car, and the horn honks loudly when his butt brushes up against it. Edward sits up suddenly, momentarily frightened that someone had caught us in the middle of the day, half-naked and ready to get good and filthy with each other.
I laughed hysterically. My eyes watering as Edward, looking like a prairie dog poking out of his hole to check for an impending predator, searches wide-eyed for the source of the obnoxious honk. He realizes the truth fairly quickly.
"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" he asks, narrowing his beautiful green eyes on me with mock menace. I can't help but laugh all the harder.
"Your . . . face," I manage to wheeze. Edward shuts me up by taking his hand and placing it just between my parted legs. I can never figure out how he manages to bring me to the brink so quickly, but it's like he owns a road map to my body, knowing exactly how to touch me.
His thumb presses on my clit through the denim, putting just the right amount of pressure so that the slight bit of pain is enticing. I'm not laughing anymore.
"This front seat is too small," he utters through a wave of maddening lust. His eyes focus on me, watching my face for the faintest reaction to his movements.
"Or your ass is too big," I counter, knowing his retaliation will be swift and sweet, a torture I'm more than willing to endure. With a minimal hesitation, Edward's free hand is clamped on my breast, his fingers tweaking my nipple. I groan, the painful pleasure seeping into me. I think I will never find another who can make me feel this way.
"Get in the back," he commands. And it is an order, one that I would be foolish to ignore. I scurry onto my knees, releasing the seat belt I had, until that moment, forgotten was still in place. He chuckles a bit as I fumble with the release, both his hands still working me over as I tried so desperately to obey my lover.
He follows me over the hump of the leather, his arms like a leash to the parts of me he owns outright. My heart, my body, my mind . . . it's all his.
My legs part, letting him into the cradle of my body. His hand on my core digs deeper, using the heavy fabric to offer me more friction where I want him the most. His tongue, his lips, his teeth . . . I need to feel him on me. He is more than willing to oblige.
Part of me understands that he cannot read my mind. Yet I feel, in these moments where he can decipher me so clearly, that he can not only hear my secret demands but feeds them to me as if they were his own as well.
His hand leaves my breast and I let out a soft whimper of protest. He chuckles against my abdomen, my parted shirt leaving him a vast expanse of my skin to explore. Both hands grasp the sides of my jeans, tugging them free of my body.
He groans, seeing me bare and more than ready for him. He looks up at me through his lashes, dark intent and sheer need reflecting back at me.
"Overrated." I give him a sultry smirk, positioning my legs on the head rests of the seats flanking me. Edward takes my gesture as an invitation, and I nearly scream as his teeth find my reddened, slick nub. He bites as a punishment and reward in one – he likes my surprise, it seems.
I feel three fingers enter me, working me hard, bringing me to the precipice. His mouth latches onto me and I dig my hand in his hair, thrusting my hips up to meet his greedy, hungry lips.
"Fuck!" I scream, knowing how my dirty mouth excites him even more. He answers my fervor with a brand of his own, curling those devilish fingers, lapping that delicious tongue. I fall hard and fast, leaving the world behind to ecstasy and bliss. He rides me out for several moments, patiently waiting for me to return. My man milks every ounce of pleasure from me like it only adds to his own. Another thing to love about him, I muse.
And when the stars realign and the moon and heavens stop singing, I open my eyes to find Edward watching me. He's smiling that grin that holds secrets and dreams, and I give him my own answering smirk.
It's his turn . . .
In an instant I'm pushing him back onto the seat and climbing onto his lap, my shirt forgotten on the floorboards along with my soaked and thoroughly abused denim. I start on his mouth, returning his passion and authority he already showed me.
The thing about our love is that it is forever changing. It morphs into anything we please. He could fuck me hard and fast, take control and make me submit. I can make him wait patiently as he lavishes me with attention, bringing me to release repeatedly. In subtle glimpses in the cafeteria our love is pure and true, promises of stolen moments to come, or chaste kisses that speak of his devotion in the evening.
He gives me butterflies any time he touches me.
Whatever form our love-making takes, it is ours – good or bad, gentle or extreme. It's us. It's what keeps me whole.
And I know I'm going to lose it.
I don't know I'm crying until I feel Edward's hands on the side of my face, gently pushing me back so he can see my eyes. I try to hide it from him – what a moment to break down! Yet I don't have to tell him why there are tears falling down my flushed cheeks, or why my heady movements have suddenly become reverent. The year is ending and who knows what the future will bring.
First love, first heart-ache . . . first chance at utter devastation.
"Marry me," he whispers, his lips at the shell of my ear. The words stab into my heart, raw and fierce.
"I can't," I cry, wishing the rejection away with all my being. He knows this answer. I've told him it before.
He pushes my head back, leveling me with that defiant, completely heart-wrenchingly beautiful gaze. "Marry me."
"Edward." His name is spoken with homage, a whispered prayer to the heavens. It hurts me to deny him my own heart's desire.
He kisses me on the lips, keeping my countless excuses and objections inside for the moment. He lays me down onto the soft leather below, cradling me in his arms. The hurried abrasiveness from before melts away to passion and the need to just feel. His lips bring my skin alight, his hands keep my heart a-flutter. I feel him enter me with one slow stroke, and part of me becomes whole again.
The depth of his movements as he pushes into me triggers the heat within to build. He is the instrument by which my blood moves, my heart beats.
My back arches and I can feel him go even deeper than before. Never enough. It feels like I can't get close enough to him.
His lips are on my chest, his breath becoming more disjointed. "Marry me."
Marry me . . .
He'll ask me again and again until I say yes. After our senior prom, when we are dancing alone under the starlit sky. After our graduation, when our parents are busy making plans for our future. At the airport, when he's getting onto a flight to a college across the country. On the phone, when my tears flow free and my heart hurts that he's not here.
He finds the keys to my dad's old Chevy; the thing hadn't been driven in five years. It sat in my father's old garage, collecting dust since the last time we'd defiled it. He smiles at me as he drives down the street, his hand holding mine. It hasn't left that spot since I picked him up from Seattle.
We are older now, yet our journey makes me feel giddy. Our passion has never left, but perhaps some of our adventure has ebbed over the years.
I dressed appropriately for our little outing, as specifically ordered by my driver: convertible, jeans, and no underwear. I just hope he's still up for surprises.
He pulls into the same spot we'd parked all those years ago. I smile as he unfastens his belt, shoving over to my side to claim my mouth and body in one. His bottom honks the horn but this time he expects it. I laugh when he growls into my ear, not liking any disturbance.
This has been a long time coming . . .
His lips travel my neck, making me his own again. Truthfully, I had always been his.
His fingers find my buttons, pushing them free and revealing my bare skin.
Well, almost . . .
He pauses, feeling the silken fabric of my undershirt. He looks, momentarily distracted. I smile. He stares.
"It says 'Marry Me'," I clarify. I guess the words on my shirt may be hard to see through a cloud of tears. His features seem to be a bit cloudy to me as well. I blink, letting my own set trail down my cheeks.
DCM A/N: *fans self and swoon* very very nice. Who needs panties anyway? Make sure to leave Emily some love please.
Next week we are going to be squeezed by drotuno.
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