I'm Proud of You
Written By: Angelnlove52
V Rating: VVM18
Beta'd By: VampPixyJAK and Ihearttwlt
Pre-Read By: Kneon
Word count: 10,201
Written for: The Seductively Sexy Contest
Summary: Caught in a trap she can never escape, Bella looks to an outsider for help. Will this mysterious stranger be able to save her before it's too late, or will she become her boss's next victim?
Three years is a long time when you belong to someone else; when your body bends and breaks to their beck and call. After awhile, you start feeling like one of those dogs with the bells, salivating every time you're told to do so, running on all fours on command, and waiting in position just to hear four words of endearment. Before you know it, those four words become the only reason you're still alive—the reason you are a prisoner to your master, and a victim to your own choices.
My life started just like any other, I was a girl who had perfect attendance and graduated with straight A's, then went onto U-Dub, only to finish with honors. I had hopes and dreams and opportunities beyond the sky. Most importantly, I was free—free to live as I wished, free to reach as high as I wanted to go, and free to come and go as I pleased. In this country, we throw around terms such as 'this is a free country' and 'land of the free' without truly understanding what a privilege it is. At least until it's taken away.
Since I was a child, my mother accused me of being older than my years and called me her 'little thirty year old' by the time I was ten. I was the responsible one—the one to cook and clean, make sure all the bills were paid on time. I kept her on task and helped her hold down her various jobs through the years. My father always called me willful, telling me I was the most stubborn person he'd ever met, of course, he never considered himself in the equation. Both always prided in the fact that I had my own drum and I tended to walk to its beat. I knew what I wanted out of life and I wasn't afraid to reach for it in order to obtain whatever my heart desired. That was all before I met him, before my life tumbled down, and before I knew any better—before my life belonged to someone other than myself.
Almost immediately after my graduation from UW, I landed an interview at a prestigious publishing company. Not having much experience with job interviews, I was extremely nervous meeting with my would-be supervisor. I can't remember how many different outfits I tried on, or how many ways I rehearsed what I would say. At the end of the day, my worry was for naught. He was very friendly and tried to put my mind at ease from the instant I walked through the door, telling me he was very impressed and that he could see me doing great things. I was thrilled when I was offered the position a couple of days later—I saw my life starting and actually morphing into adulthood.
I had just started working at Fiction Publishing House in Seattle when my boss called me into his office for our weekly Monday meeting. He'd told me it was standard protocol, and for the first two months it was routine. We'd discuss our new authors, then discuss which manuscripts I thought had potential and which stories I thought had the likes to turn into a series. Every week it was always the same, he seemed attentive, interested in what I had to say, always praising the work I did and the thoughts I voiced. By the end I'd always leave with my head held high, feeling on top of the world—as if I mattered to someone.
Even as a Junior Editor, I should have known that weekly meetings never start out with your boss "accidently" tripping and grabbing your boob. I should have realized that while I was writing on the dry erase board he was watching every move I made. Hell, I probably should have even flinched when his text messages became vulgar and sexual.
At the time, I felt wanted. Being with only three men for a short grasp of time didn't bring my confidence to a soaring level. Especially when two of the three took place in high school, and the second was only because he found out I had put out for the first. My relationship with the third guy ended because I walked into my apartment to find his dick buried in my roommate's throat—on my bed.
Now, I just chalk it all up to my dreams were too big and I was more naive than I could have ever imagined. Of course, low self esteem was never an issue to be thought of.
After my two and a half month anniversary with the company, things between my boss and me started changing. The meetings began growing longer, lips started meeting lips, and innocent touching became graphic fondling. A few short weeks later, I was officially sleeping with my boss, on the clock, at least three times a day.
That was just the beginning of my hell—or my interview as he started calling it.
I should have felt embarrassed for sleeping with my boss while at work—even humiliated about sucking his cock while he was having meetings with other associates, but I didn't. How could I? The sex was the best I'd ever had, his dick was long and thick and filled me in ways I never thought possible. No one knew what the new girl was doing during her meetings with her boss; they just thought I was dumber than a box of rocks. Of course, I didn't think what anyone else thought was important. What my boyfriend and I did was not their business, never mind that it was during business hours and I was essentially being paid to fuck him since he monopolized so much of my time. It was all justified because 'he loved me and just couldn't keep his hands off me all day long'.
Me being me…I believed him.
Common sense should have told me that when a man gets horny, his dick usually points to the sluttiest thing in the room. In this case, it was me. Granted, before this escapade I'd only ever slept with three people, but he turned me into a wanton sex addict, and I couldn't help myself.
I craved him and his cock more than a pregnant woman craves ice cream, or a menstruating girl wants chocolate. It was to the point that I didn't care how I got it, when I got it, or where I got it. We could be walking past a public bathroom and I'd pull him in to satisfy my needs or he'd plow into me in the conference room five minutes before the board came in, just to alleviate stress.
In those moments, I didn't know who I was anymore. The Police Chief's daughter from Podunk, Washington never would have behaved like this. She was refined and proper—a prude by all standards of the word. My sexual expertise encompassed missionary one-oh-one and a few short lessons on giving head, not bending over the table and being fucked senseless while I bite into a gag as not to scream loud enough for the world to hear. I was losing myself, but couldn't find it in me to care, all because he loved me and was proud of my dick taking abilities.
After another month in the interview process, I proved that I could take his cock any way he was willing to give it to me, and better yet, I showed that I was willing to—beyond willing. This was the point in the process, that he would always be sure to demonstrate how you can't rape the willing. Once you've given the milk willingly, it is forever perceived to be willing participation. No matter how much I tried to tell him no, he knew I didn't mean it—said there was something in my eyes that gave me away. Granted, at the time, my wet and waiting pussy was always a dead giveaway too.
Every time he bragged to his friends while we were at a club, I grew more adventurous. A few times, I allowed him to eat me out while I lay completely exposed on the bar as his friends watched and salivated over my naked breasts and bare pussy. Their moans only egged me on and encouraged them to touch me, while my boss did his tongue tricks. There were other times when I would encourage him to take me on the dance floor.
My favorite was when we were at a friend's house and he pulled his dick out and bent me over the back of the sofa for all to watch. I think it was only my favorite because I was able to watch the women's faces as they wished they could take my place. The women all wanted my man's hard, thick cock and they knew they couldn't have it.
That instance was bittersweet in some ways. It was the first time I was truly used for my purpose and because I was enjoying it too much, I didn't even recognize it for what it was worth. One of the men became too excited watching me get the life fucked out of me, my screams sparing him to act on his wants. James stopped for a moment, just long enough to ask if I would be interested in playing a game. I was so far lost to the built up between my legs that by that point, I would have given up my first born child to keep the pleasure going. Before I could fully compartmentalize what was happening, an additional dick was in my mouth. Between both men being inside of me, I was fuller than I'd ever been.
When we got home, I was rewarded handsomely with his praise and happiness for my performance at the party and I glowed with the accomplishment. I had satisfied my lover, my boss, in ways only I could. My actions made him proud of me, and happy to call me his.
At first, our new arrangement started out with me sleeping with him and a friend of his at a hotel after a date of some sort, we'd go for dinner, maybe for dancing so we could all warm up to one another. James felt as though I was more relaxed after getting to know the man who would be impaling me by the end of the evening. Not long after that new development, it turned into me meeting just the friend and letting him fuck me every way from heaven. I tried to say no, but I was always convinced that my love would be disappointed if I didn't keep his friends happy. After whatever little tryst I was sent on, my boss would show up, kiss me deeply, and tell me he was proud of me.
Those words were my undoing. "Bella, I'm proud of you." The sad thing was, I believed him. Without realizing it, I was so starved for those words that I would have done anything he asked just to hear praise from a man.
It's no secret to anyone around that I now belong to him. I no longer work at the publishing house, and I'm quite certain he's fucking some new hire while I sit at home or in a hotel room with some new John waiting for those four little words that are about as good as dog treats. "I'm proud of you."
At least I can find solace in the fact that I'm the only one he allows in his home—I'm the only one he fucks in his bed, and my brown eyes are the last he sees before he falls asleep at night.
Or at least that's how I used to feel.
Now, three years later, I can finally see the error of my ways. I'm still the main girl in his bed, naturally there have been a few spot light appearances with other women, but I'm always his main fuck. He always prefers that the other people that join us do things to me, but instead of reciprocating with them, my attention must always be on him and his pleasure. He only ever enters my pussy, instead choosing to finish the others from behind, or use one of the many silicone toys he loves to demonstrate with. I used to be proud in the fact that I only received the toy as a second tool to enter my body, his dick always being the first. Now, the thought that I ever let him touch me repulses me and makes me have to swallow back the vile that immediately erupts from my stomach.
Things changed about six months ago when he introduced me to one of his friends, Edward. Our first three sessions were nothing more than conversations, never any touching. When I walked into the hotel room for our first encounter, I immediately started slowly stripping my clothes off as I strutted toward him just as I did for any other man, only for him to stop me. His dark, mossy green eyes actually met mine, captured them, and spoke to my soul.
Throughout my life, I'd never met anyone who could read me with one glace, but he could—easily.
"Bella, my name is Edward Cullen," he introduced himself, using a very proper English accent. "I don't wish to sleep with you until I have earned it from you. I want to get to know you, and in return, I want you to know me. Do you think we can do that?" The soft laziness in his speech made me weak in my knees and wet in my panties. I'd never heard anything sound as lovely, unless it was on TV.
"What do you want to know?" I asked skeptically. I wanted to believe him, but two and a half years of men using you only for your body makes you doubt true sincerity when you see it. Why would he want to get to know me? I was only a two bit whore from Podunk with no future because her boss had black-listed her so she wouldn't leave him.
"Well, for starters, why don't you tell me why you are here?" he requested.
"Because you ordered me," I answered rather tersely. I didn't have all the ins and outs on how this worked, but I knew James had some kind of showing in which people picked me from the bunch. One customer told me he selected me from a sex tape, another informed he saw naked pictures of me online, yet another said it was by word of mouth because I could suck cock the best. Whichever way the cookie crumbled, I'm sure my Police Chief father would be ecstatic to see what his only daughter turned out to be. Then again, had he ever told me he was proud of me, I probably wouldn't be in this situation.
"You're right, I did. That wasn't what I meant. Why are you doing this?" he questioned more specifically with his head cocked slightly to the side.
"Because it's the only thing I'm good at." The sentence came to my lips before I could even think up a different answer. The moment the words came into play, my mind immediately scolded itself. I could write and sing. I was an honor student once upon a time. I used to have dreams and goals and was good at a number of things.
Those fruitless ponderings didn't mean anything anymore though—I use to do those things, I was those things once upon a time. Now, I was this. Now, I had someone who was proud of me. All the things I used to be good at were nothing—they all meant nothing because no one noticed, no one took the time to read my work, or listen to my songs. My father never showed up to awards nights nor did he watch me walk across the stage at graduation, he never once told me he was proud of me or showed me he loved me.
"I happen to know that isn't true, Isabella," Edward reassured. His answer pulled me up short and made me take another look at him. Nothing about him looked familiar. His hair was an odd brown-blonde color with a slight auburn hue to it; his strong and chiseled jaw was tight with tension; his nose straight and angular. The way he was sitting, rested back on the bed while propped up on his elbows made his body look long and lanky with definite definition throughout his chest, arms, and stomach. But none of it rang a bell.
"And what is it you think you know about me, Edward?" I spat, ready for this conversation to be over so we could move on to other things. The faster this was over with, the sooner I could return home.
"I know you graduated at the top of your class from Forks High. That you graduated with a degree in Creative Writing and a minor in Literary Composition from the University of Washington. You worked at Fiction Publishing for six months before you disappeared, only for your picture to show up online, and smut shots of you to take over U-tube and various other porn sites a few months later. I know that you have a good head on your shoulders and a decent brain inside that head of yours. What I can't figure out is why you aren't using it."
I felt my mouth drop open in shock and my jaw move a few times trying to form words with nothing to actually come out.
"Oh, and that your name is Isabella Marie Swan. You were born to parents, Charlie Swan of the Forks PD and Renee Higgenbothem who is an elementary school teacher down in Scottsdale. I also know that she is remarried to a Minor League Baseball player named Phil Dwyer which then caused you to move to Forks to be with your dad. You're a selfless individual, and love to cook. Your middle name came from your grandmother, who died when you were twelve from cancer, and that your first boyfriend's name was Jacob Black."
Not only was I shocked at his words, but in awe of them as well. Who was this person? How did he know this much about me? Or at least the person I used to be.
"Who are you?" I breathed, fear cultivating at the back of my neck. Of all the situations I'd ever been in, this was by far the most intimidating.
"I already told you. My name is Edward Cullen," he answered simply as if he hadn't just scared the living piss out of me.
"What do you want with me? Why are you here?" The questions continued to roll without any conscious effort. Each request was covered and basted in a higher pitch due to the fear I was now feeling.
"I don't want anything with you, Bella. I only want to rescue you." Those words seemed simple enough, but the weight was more than either of us could bear. How could one man think he could actually save me when I couldn't even save myself? There was no out for me, even if I wanted one. After James started selling me off without his presence in the room, I tried to quit, I tried to get away, but by that time, I'd already committed prostitution. To make matters worse, there were drugs in the room, so I could be brought up on drug charges too. In every scenario, James always made sure there was something illegal going so I couldn't get away even if I wanted to.
After months of trying to find an out but always finding a road block, I gave up. Once I gave up, my life got a lot easier and once again, I earned my prize. That night—the night James saw the fight leave my eyes—he made love to me and told me how proud of me he was. I heard over and over about how I was his most prized possession, how he was proud to own me, and proud to have me on his arm for the entire world to see.
That was the first night I knew I was no longer my own. I now belonged to another.
"You can't rescue me," I whispered, sounding more broken than I would have liked.
Edward then made his first move; he stood from the bed and took the steps needed to reach me. The back of his fingers were soft as they grazed my cheek in a gentle caress before he pushed the hair from my face behind my ear.
"Bella, I can save you from James quite easily. More importantly, I can save you from yourself." His response was just as quiet as my nearly silent disbelief. "Let me save you. Let me show you how good it can feel to truly be loved and cherished. I will never share you or sell you off. I will never treat you as a slave or some play thing. You deserve the world; let me give it to you."
I hadn't even realized my lids had closed as he spoke those gentle words to me. His warm breath embraced my cheek and brought about a tingle I felt in my soul. With just a touch, he took away the weight of the world and made me feel at home.
With a flutter, my eyes opened once again and looked up into his gentle, green orbs.
"How?" I asked, breathlessly.
"Let me worry about that. Just know, soon, you shall be free, and soon you shall be mine to truly love and cherish." Those were the last words he spoke to me that day. With a soft kiss at the corner of my lips, he left the room.
It was only then I realized how hard I was breathing and the erratic pace of my heart. No man had ever had that effect on me, let alone without even truly touching me. I knew, without a doubt, I needed to see him again. I had to feel the weightlessness he offered and the gentleness of his touch at least one more time.
By our third visit, we had made our way to the bed. Though there was still no true touching involved, I'd never felt so much peace surround me, or comfort consume me. We lay there, on our sides facing each other with our hands clasped between us.
"What made you want to save me?" I asked, my voice hardly audible. Our conversations were always this quiet, it was as if we were stationed in a bubble and the slightest of movements or sounds would burst it at the seams.
"Your eyes. They hold an innocence your situation cannot understand. You don't see it, Isabella, but you are beautiful. Everything about you draws me in, your voice, your smell, your hair—even your strength." I could feel myself make a funny face at the last observation and slightly pull away at his words.
"It's true. You hold a strength that no man could ever take from you. You might be stuck doing this, but it isn't who you are. You give in, but you haven't given up yet. I've been watching you for awhile, and the last picture I saw of you, your spark was diminishing. He's finally breaking you but I'm not going to let that happen. Not to you, my angel."
"I don't feel strong. If I were strong I'd be able to fight back."
"You're here with me, aren't you? You know I want to take you away and yet you continually show up. You know I would never report you if you chose to go sit in the stairwell, or simply not come to my room; yet here you are. You want to be saved—you just don't know how to accomplish it on your own."
"I tried once. I ended up black and blue," I thought aloud. Edward blanched at the thought.
"Where'd he hurt you?" His teeth were clenched and his jaw tight and jumping as he bit down hard. I felt his hands tighten their grip on mine slightly before he controlled them and let go before he could hurt me too.
"My wrists and ankles where he cuffed me and my back where he hit me," I answered as if I were in a trance. Something in his eyes was pulling all the truths from me. The more we talked, the more I got to know him, the more I wanted to share. I wanted him to know me. I wanted him to know he should run far away from me—that there was nothing left to save.
"When I have you free, he will suffer. If he ever lays a hand on you again, I will kill him. Promise me you will tell me if he ever, ever, lays a finger on you before I get you out of there."
"Promise me, Isabella," he seethed, his eyes flashing a hatred I'd never seen before—one I couldn't understand.
My only response was to nod in agreement and to change the subject.
The following visit was much of the same, we laid together on the queen bed of the hotel room he booked for us, our hands were tightly clasped together, and our bodies closer this time than we'd ever dared before.
"How do you know so much about me?" I asked slowly. This question had been plaguing me since the first time we met. He knew my entire history, yet I knew nothing of his.
"You don't remember me do you?" His voice held a tenor of sadness to it I could not understand. Had I ever seen him before, I would have remembered him—his voice alone brought me to my knees.
"We met once, in Forks. I worked for your father for a few years while I was interning before I started my true calling," he answered but said no more.
"What is your true calling?" I wondered aloud, wanting to delve into this portion of his life. I wanted to know everything about him, I wanted to be with him when all of this was over—that is, if he'd have me.
"None of that matters. All that matters is that it brought me to you."
"But it matters to me, Edward. I want to get to know you just as you are getting to know me."
He looked down at our hands as if to contemplate something before responding. "If I could tell you, I would, please believe that about me. Know this; I will keep you safe and I will rescue you if it is the last thing I do. You will be taken care of, I promise you."
"None of that matters to me if I'm not with you," I answered, too honest for either of our comfort. I felt my cheeks blush and his eyes zone onto mine immediately.
He groaned aloud at the truth of the words I had just uttered. "This is wrong, Bella. So very wrong."
"Why is it wrong?" I couldn't keep the sound of betrayal from my voice and the dejectedness from my heart. His words stung in ways I never knew possible.
"Don't you see, Bella, it is one thing for me to feel this way about you, and a completely other for you to feel the same back. There's a good chance that after I get you out of this, I'll never see you again."
I felt my heart drop into my knees and my breath catch as tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. "Then don't get me out. I don't want to be free if I can't have you."
The sadness I saw written on his soul from my words cut me in two and tore out every last part of my humanity. The pain he felt transferred onto me and took on the role of a large rock at the base of my stomach, making even the simplest functions hard. Every time I swallowed, it was as if it were caught on the large formation that took residence. My breaths hurt and felt shallow—empty even.
"I'll find a way for us to be together, my love. I swear to you."
By the sixth visit, his hands still remained mostly to himself. Every once in awhile he would reach forward and run his long fingers through my hair and brush the apples of my cheeks, but that was the extent of his stolen touches. From what I could tell, hands were fair game. The moment the door closed behind me, he would reach forward, clasp my hand in his, and lead me to the bed. Sometimes we would sit against the headboard of the four poster bed and talk, others we would lay facing each other as if we were children, spilling the world's secrets. Regardless of our position, I still felt safer than I ever had.
"Why won't you touch me?" I asked, almost too curiously. I knew his answer would hurt—they typically did if it was an honest one.
"It's against the rules. If I touch you, I'm no better than he is," he responded, his thick English accent slightly deeper today. Silently, he begged me to understand and not to push the issue. If he thought he could get away with that, he thought wrong. I needed to know why he didn't want me, why he wouldn't hold me or kiss me at least.
"You're wrong." In my head, my tone didn't sound nearly as petulant as it did aloud. "You are better than he is. I want you to touch me. I want you to hold me and kiss me. I feel safe in your presence, and when you touch me, I feel whole for the first time in my life."
"If you want me to kiss you, all you need to do is ask. Until you ask, I will not assume. Your body is for you to control and you only. Every time you offer a portion of it, it is your gift to give—never for someone to take. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
"Edward," I breathed and waited a moment for him to truly look into my eyes and see my longing. "Kiss me," I begged, my voice taking on an embarrassingly airy quality to it.
"What if I start and I can't stop? Bella, I've wanted this since the first time I saw you, eight years ago." I mentally calculated where I was when I was eighteen, where I could have possibly met him or seen him before.
"Since my body is mine to give as a gift, consider it a gift that is only for your taking. I will only ever willingly—eagerly give it to you."
"You don't know of what you ask." Edward's eyes turned into a molten pool of rich greens and warm yellows. I saw his need, and felt it cultivate between my legs, begging him to come find it.
"Where did you first see me eight years ago, Edward?" My words were whispered and slightly muffled as I scooted closer toward him in the bed.
"Forks High. I was dropping my step sister off at school while I worked for your father. You hadn't turned eighteen at the time, and I was already twenty two. Even though we had the statute of consent in our favor, I knew your father would never see it that way, so I kept my distance. But know this, I always wanted you—only you, Isabella. One look at you had me second guessing everything I thought I knew of desire, passion, reverence. No one had ever triggered such a carnal hunger after just one look in my experience. It was staggering to think what the possibilities could be." That was the most information about his past I'd ever heard and I wanted more.
"Why now, why did you chose now to look for me?"
"I watched you all throughout college, always keeping a close eye, mostly following you through your friends and father. They were always eager to give me information. When you got the job at Fiction I almost flew through the roof, you weren't James' first junior editor to go missing—you were only the fastest to disappear. I thought I still had a few months before he would pull you underground. Once he had you, I had to bide my time, wait for the perfect opportunity when he would trust me enough with your wellbeing, and grant me our visits. Now that I have you, I'm not letting you go."
I nodded in understanding.
"Which of my friends did you keep tabs on me through?" I had scooted close enough that our chests were almost touching. I could feel his breath fan across my face and smell the musk of his cologne. It smelled familiar—very familiar, as if I'd smelled it often before. It reminded me of my room back in Forks, every morning when I'd wake it would be stronger than the night before. No matter how hard I tried to identify it, I couldn't truly place the name of the fragrance.
"None of that matters now. You will find out soon enough when I have you free."
"Edward," I whispered once more.
"Kiss me," I pleaded again. Everything in me was screaming for his touch and I was sure to implode if he didn't abide by my wishes.
"One kiss," he amended. I nodded, though I couldn't agree with his judgment.
"Don't move." Once again, my head silently gave the consent just before he lowered his lips to mine.
At first, his lips were firm, and puckered together tightly as if he were trying to keep me out and himself in. I could feel the softness of his skin and the stubborn ridges where he clinched them tightly together as he continued to push his mouth to mine. The warmth permeated my skin, causing me to gasp and my body to fly into motion.
On their own volition, my hands reached forward, tangling my fingers into his thick, soft hair, pulling him closer to me. My reaction garnered one from Edward and his kiss became hungry and fervent on mine. His mouth opened and accepted my lower lip into his mouth as he sucked on it, licking away all of my cherry lip balm. At my insistence, he rolled onto his back and I straddled his hips, pinning him beneath me, and leaving him to my mercy.
His hands were rough on my sides, pulling me closer to his hard, muscular body. A small shiver shot down my spine as his tongue grazed my bottom lip once more, begging for access. I couldn't help the soft moan that escaped my grasp as my tongue played with his while his mouth sucked it in and lightly massaged it. One of my hands left his hair and traced a fine line down his neck and to his chest, feeling the contours that lay under his shirt.
Unconsciously, my legs tightened around him, centering myself better so I could push against him better, allowing me to feel the warmth of his body against my core. Each movement I made was a silent plea for him never to stop kissing me like this, begging him to attach himself somehow to me so we would never have to part.
One of Edward's hands released my side, only to glide up my back and gently cup the back of my neck and tangle his fingers into my hair. This was as close to heaven as I could ever get. Shocks of electricity stunned my dead heart; excitement joined my old bones, and made my joints feel disconnected and spongy. With this one kiss, I felt all of my resolve slip into a puddle of uncertainty at my feet.
What did this mean for me? How could I go back, pretending as if this never happened? How could I go back to a life where I still had to sleep with other men and share a bed every night with another person? There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to spend the rest of my eternity kissing Edward Cullen, to feel his hands wrap around my body and pull me close. Nothing could make me regret this moment. No matter the questions, the uncertainty, the ramifications, this moment would forever be the best of my life.
With one kiss, Edward had altered my life completely and ruined all others for me- no one could ever compare.
After a few minutes, Edward pulled away to catch his breath. My hand released his hair and lightly covered his heart, feeling its quickened beats and the fluttering as it sped at unhealthy rates. Both of our chests heaved and fell with strained motions, fighting against each other for unwritten dominance.
Our eyes locked instantly, speaking to one another through our souls, asking the questions we were too afraid to ask aloud. What did this mean for us? Did the other feel the spark that flew between us, or the magnetic pull toward one another? What would happen next?
Devine intervention had to have been at work to make me feel so alive. Something about him made me want to live again and live to the fullest, with him at my side. He caused me to feel things I hadn't felt since I left Phoenix—since I was a young, naive child. For the first time in three and a half years, I had hope for a future I'd never envisioned before.
His eyes showed me a cruel and ruthless side of desire I so desperately wanted—rather needed. I tried to convey my yearning for him to continue, trying to place as much desperation in my eyes as his contained. My mind kept rushing to when we would have our time alone again, when we could kiss again, when we could be together again.
Edward's thumb lightly traced my slightly swollen lower lip as I watched his eyes dart down to it. No matter what, I wasn't going to initiate the kiss this time. I'd already put myself out there, told him what I wanted and served myself as the main course. He knew he could have me whenever he chose; my gift was already his for the taking.
Before I could talk myself out of it anymore, his lips found mine, his teeth hitching my lower lip and sucking it into his mouth once more. His actions caused sparks of excitement to shoot through my stomach and down between my legs as the heat grew inside of me. The warmth was growing uncomfortable, pushing me to levels of neediness I'd never known. Although I was still wrapped around him, I wanted to be closer. I wanted more. I wanted him-all of him.
Everything about how we were together screamed sincerity and honesty. He was careful with his touches, almost warning me with his eyes before he touched me, warding off all ill thoughts and bad memories, but there were none to be had. I wanted to be with him and no memories of the past could halt my cravings. Regardless of the number of men I'd had to succumb to, this was different—this was real, and this was wanted. I wanted to give myself to him, my entire self. I wanted him to have a piece of me that only four others truly shared.
There was no such thing as too close. No matter how tightly I was bound, I wanted more. I wanted every centimeter of my body to feel his. I wanted the roughness of his skin against mine, and the warmth only he possessed to radiate through me. If I could crawl inside him and allow myself to be completely consumed, I would in a heartbeat. I felt as if I couldn't get close enough.
Edward twisted ever so slightly so he was on top, careful not to distribute any of his weight on me. I pulled my fingers free and found the top button of his shirt with a shaky, nervous hand. I couldn't understand the butterflies that were erupting within me. There was no reason for me to be uneasy. I wanted this. I knew I was good at this. Once he had me this way, he'd never be able to let me go, just like the others since I'd been trained properly.
Once his shirt was open, I ran my hands down his perfect chest and started fidgeting with the button on his pants. Before I could get it undone, he caught my hand and held it to his heart.
I could feel it in his anxious touch that he wanted this—he wanted me. His hands were eager as they lifted the hem of my shirt to expose only my midriff before he stopped. It seemed as if he were arguing with himself over something. In response, I threw more of myself into the kiss so he wouldn't pull away. Before I could help myself, my kisses became urgent as my body started to react more to the presence of his hand at the small of my back.
"We don't have to do this," he murmured, trying to sound convincing, but I was too far gone to buy it.
I looked into his caring eyes and saw what I assumed was love. It had to be love, no other emotion held that much tenderness and thoughtfulness. I felt the instant comfort rush over my aching heart, unable to keep the smile that formed at bay.
"Yes we do. I want to," I insisted.
"We could wait until…." His voice trailed off as I shook my head.
"Edward, I need you. I want to forget anything that ever happened in the past and I want to be with you. I want to pretend like this is our life and nothing outside of these four walls exists. I want to make love with you and give myself to you in ways no one has ever known before." I dropped my eyes to my fingers as I traced the lines just under his collar bone and the hollow of his neck. "Please," I breathed as I leaned in and kissed just under his jaw. I began to form a line of seductive kisses from the point of his chin down to the hollow of his neck. With some exerted force, I tried to flip him so I could take top, surprised when he went along with my wishes.
My lips found his again as I began fumbling with the button of his pants, this time without rebuttal. My shirt quickly joined company with his on the floor next to the bed as his hands trailed down my rib cage and traced each protrusion almost reverently.
Soft moans escaped his well guarded mouth as I kissed down the contours of his chest and panes of his stomach. Sight alone wasn't enough to take in the splendor that was his body. It would be easy to lose myself in sensory overload while making love to this beautiful man. He demanded my ears with his moans, my mouth to taste him, my nose for absorbing his musky scent, my touch to explore and my eyes could not stop from devouring the glorious sight of Edward lost in ecstasy.
His pecs were perfectly defined and hard with sinew; his stomach taught and dips between each defined pack. The only thing disrupting the valleys and hills of muscle upon muscle was the soft trail that led from his navel to his pant-line.
Edward's fingers interlocked in my hair, pulling just slightly with anticipated pleasure as my tongue dipped and rolled in his belly button and continued out, tracing one of his perfectly defined abs. I allowed my mind to wander and linger on thoughts of what I wished to do to him—which only seemed to excite him more. Being in control was a different sensation for me. Typically, I allowed the man to take charge and use me however he saw fit, but after the gentle touches and sweet caresses from his fingertips, I wanted to share more of myself with him than I ever thought possible. The feeling was a welcome contrast to the dark cloud that normally surrounded sex and everything it encompassed. The tight coil and strength he possessed in his upper body made me feel safe and protected from whatever was waiting for me after I left this room.
I could sense he was becoming restless—or maybe uncomfortable—as I continued exploring his body.
"You never know, you may like it," I insisted as I trailed soft kisses and warm nips down the center of his stomach, only stopping when I reached the top of his boxers.
"There's no doubt about it, but I don't want this from you, Bella." Before I could protest, his lips were on mine, kissing me with such ferocity I couldn't form an argument, let alone a coherent sentence. My breath was harsh and ragged as he began kissing a trail up to my ear and lightly sucked on my lobe.
"Besides, isn't it better when I can please you?" His cool breath stopped my heart for an instant before throwing it into hyper-drive. With that one motion, he halted all desire to take things slow. I wanted it all, and I wanted it now.
A gasp parted from me as his lips glided down my neck, sucking the hollow behind my ear, biting the expanse of muscle in the column. The entire right side of my neck was lavished in sweet, succulent sexuality. His weight shifted as his teeth lightly found purchase around my collar bone, and again when they scraped downward just above the swell of my breast.
My nipple was next in his line of attack. Edward expertly pulled it into his mouth, his tongue rolling it and massaging it to a tighter peak than it already was. A wanton growl escaped between our skin as he bit down and lightly pulled the flesh away from my body causing me to whimper in pure desire.
After paying equal attention to its mate, he kissed down the slightly defined line descending my flat stomach. Once again, his hands spanned out over my visible ribs and traced each one with his tongue.
"When I get you out of this, we're feeding you properly," he groaned into the side of my stomach. "No future wife of mine will ever want for anything."
His words alone caused my clit to tighten and my insides to clench. Future wife. I could see it—me in an ivory dress, him in a tux on the beach, professing our love to one another and to God.
I was distracted enough I couldn't keep up with what he was doing until I felt his warm, wet muscle flick over my clit and bring it into his mouth. A loud moan spilled from me as my back arched away from the bed and on their own volition, my hips bucked upward into him, silently begging for more attention. Edward's hands gripped my thighs tightly, keeping me still as his tongue probed and suckled its way around my core. Long, generous licks were mixed with light flicks, and slow, lazy circles. Nips and gentle sucks at my bud quickly sent me screaming and thrashing against his face.
It can never be said that Edward Cullen doesn't know his way around my pussy. The man strummed it like a musician, pulling my orgasm out of me, escalating it to a plateau not comparable to anything I'd ever experienced. He softened his ministrations, gliding me down the other side of my orgasm, feeding me just enough to keep me lucid, but creating an indescribable want.
My feeble hands brought him back to my lips where I immediately took stock in the difference of his taste and smell. My rich, earthy scent encased my senses and mixed with his natural flavor. I moaned at the unique combination we created together—this was us at our rawest form.
With our bodies entangled once more, I felt complete. For the first time in my empty life, I felt passion and devotion fill the voided spaces between us. With this one act, we were showing the each other this was our forever—this was it for us. My kisses grew harder, more urgent at the thought. I needed this man more than I'd ever needed anything. I needed to feel his love inside of me, around me, and in my soul.
"Ungh…. Edward, please…. I need you," I moaned loudly.
"Shhh, Baby, you have me. I'm not going anywhere." His voice peaked at the end when I finally wrapped my hand around his arousal and tightened my grip. His accent was stronger, more lazy in our lust, causing my muscles to tighten in anticipation.
In perfect synchronization, his fingers entered me and curled, hitting the perfect spot while I moved my closed fist around his erection. We moved together in unison, breathing in each other's moans, and swallowing the ones that were too loud. Our lips sat on top of each other, keeping our connection alive, but remained unmoving.
With my free hand, I reached down and lowered his dress slacks and boxer briefs until I couldn't reach any farther without stopping my other hand from gliding over his hard cock. A loud moan erupted past Edward's lips as he felt my legs raise more at his sides and finish the task for me before coming back and wrapping themselves around his upper thighs.
Edward's fingers increased their pace as his lips started exploring once more. He lightly sucked on my pulse point and bit down hard enough to give me a rush of pain, only to lick away the residue and insure pleasure could be found. He was proving himself to be the perfect conundrum. Everything he did elected the perfect mix of passion, pain, and something else I'd never felt from a partner.
The pleasure started to coil in my lower abdomen, centering where his fingers pushed inside of me and his thumb rubbed my clit. It felt as though a thin wired spring was ready to snap and send me soaring with the pressure. Every muscle in my body started to tense in anticipation, my head rolled to the side, and my stomach arched away from the bed to get closer to him.
His lips met mine again; this time with more force than ever as my second orgasm rocked my body. His mouth absorbed the wanton moans and beautiful screams I created. I felt my fingers tighten in the sheets next to me as I rode out the long, strong waves that passed through my body.
Edward allowed me a moment to calm down—to provide my senses a chance to come back from the outer realms in which he just sent me before he withdrew his fingers. His breath caressed my neck as he chuckled and pulled me closer.
"Baby, you're so beautiful when you come," he whispered between kisses. "So, so beautiful."
"Make love to me," I requested as I aligned his hard cock with my entrance. "Please Edward, share this with me. Be the first and last man to ever love me."
He pulled back and looked for reassurance in my eyes before he continued. Once he found what he was looking for, he gently moved his hips forward, sinking deeply into my oblivion, making me feel at home. His hips started moving, meeting me thrust for gentle thrust, each time giving me the same feeling of perfection, wholeness, and forever. In all my experience, I'd never felt something so complete, so real. I never knew this feeling could exist.
With each thrust, I could feel the tip of Edward's dick hitting a sweet spot deep inside of me, causing me to moan inadvertently. As his motions became staggered and started losing their rhythm, his thumb found my clit and started rubbing slow, languid circles matching his movements.
"Fuck, Bella. Baby, come for me. Let me feel you around me, Baby," Edward moaned, punctuating his request with a pinch to the bundle of nerves between my legs.
The combination of his voice begging, and his actions caused something within me to snap, my vision to go dark around the edges, and a loud porn-like whimper to emerge from me. I should have been embarrassed about the cheesiness of the noise, but I couldn't find the room to care.
Edward lasted a few more push and pulls before his muscles locked, his eyes closed, and his body stilled above mine. I could feel him throbbing inside me as he found his release. After collapsing on the bed beside me, his arms drew me to his chest and tucked me against him. Feeling him skin to skin was making my breath come in quick pants. A feeling of completeness, as if the weight of the world was suddenly taken from my shoulders, surrounded me and consumed me.
My desires seemed almost endless, all I wanted to do was curl up with him, and stay locked away until the end of time. I never wanted to leave this moment and return to my reality. Not able to withstand the unknown anymore, I trailed kisses to his ear and eagerly sucked his lobe between my teeth.
"Take me with you tonight," I begged. "Don't make me go back. Keep me with you always."
He groaned at my request and pulled away. Both of his hands cupped my face, keeping me at a safe distance from him. "Let me make sure I have everything ready. You will be away from this soon, my love. I promise you that."
I could only nod in acceptance. What more was there to say? I couldn't force him to take me with him, I could only hope. If I had anywhere else to go, I would leave immediately and hide until Edward was ready for me. Alas, that was the problem with leaving home—you could never return.
My last words to my father were anger induced and James produced. I'd told him I hated him, that I was tired of living under his little rock—that there was an entire world out there for me to explore and he was keeping me too sheltered. I exploded about how I couldn't live like that anymore, about how I wanted to run my own life instead of live in his dictatorship. The words, the screaming, the tears on his end were excruciating, but James kept me strong and on task. The hardest part came when I repeated the exact words my mother used when she left him years before.
"Do you ever talk to my father?" I asked, the memories still replaying.
"Occasionally." Edward's expression was guarded and his tone a little clipped. He seemed worried about how I would follow up with that information.
"Do you think he still hates me for what I said to him?"
"Your father never hated you, Bella. He hasn't stopped looking for you since you disappeared. He's the one who got me in contact with James," he answered softly.
"If I were to leave tonight, do you think I could go there?" I tried to keep the hope from spilling out into my heart. I couldn't afford to wish for something as grand. I knew James would find me and bring me back—the only question being at what cost.
"Let me secure things before we do anything rash, My Love. I swear to you, this time next week, you will be free." Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out a locket, proffering it to me without a word at first.
Quiet moments passed with his hand out stretched before him as I stood in shock, looking at the beautifully designed piece. It was silver with a rose pattern etched in it. The chain was thin and brittle looking, all together giving it a very aged, almost vintage look.
"Take this with you, please. It will give me some solace knowing you are taking a piece of me with you tonight," he whispered.
I simply nodded, then turned as to give him access to my neck. Without hesitation, he pushed my hair over my shoulder and secured the necklace with a kiss over the clasp.
"Always know I am with you when you wear this, Bella," he whispered. With a soft kiss, he sealed his promise and instructed me to leave before someone came to see what was taking so long.
My lips yearned to tell him of the love I felt inside, but they were not ready to speak such words yet. Love was like hope, if you allowed yourself even just a glimpse, it would pull you under, and never allow you to return.
That night reality struck hard. James was already home and waiting for me in the bedroom. I tried to ignore him as I went about my routine and entered the bathroom to wash off the 'stink of another man' but he wouldn't let me pass.
"You're late," he hissed, his hands wrapping tightly around my upper arms.
"I know, I'm sorry. It took awhile for the client to finish his round," I answered, my eyes never leaving the floor between our feet. I hated this position. I hated never being able to actually look at the slime who thought he owned me. I wanted to look into his eyes and show him I wasn't the broken fool he once thought I was. I wanted him to see the spark that Edward had reinstalled into my heart. I wanted my eyes to scream a big, silent, fuck you in his face. But wants weren't a reality for someone like me.
"Was it good?" he questioned. It'd been awhile since he'd asked that one. I knew the correct answer—well, at least the one he wanted to hear.
"Not as good as you, James," I answered on auto pilot.
"Mr. Masen seems to have taken a liking to you. He's requested your presence again next week. That makes seven visits. It's too bad he hasn't grown tired of you yet."
I could feel my face contort into one of confusion as I tried to understand his words—more so, the name he had called Edward.
"I wasn't with Mr. Masen tonight, James," I sputtered without thought and immediately regretted my words.
"If you weren't with Edward Masen, then who were you with, Slut?" His question tripped me up.
"He kept asking me to call him McCarty, James," I lied. I knew I wasn't a good liar, but I had to try. If James knew Edward had lied to him about his name, he would be as good as dead. I had to do something to protect him.
The stinging left on my cheek and the sharp stabbing pain through my knees as they hit the ground was the only indication James had touched me.
"Did you just lie to me?" he asked. I couldn't answer, my jaw felt as if it had been thrown out of socket. Pain shot from my hair line down to the center of my chin from where he hit me, causing me to want to scream out in agony but I couldn't move it to do anything of the sort.
"Isabella, who did he say he was?" James asked again. His anger rolled off him in waves, seizing my fear and capsizing it into something almost unmanageable. My fight or flight instincts were screaming at me to tell him the truth, to save myself and give James whatever he wanted.
Three words kept me from saying anything. I loved him. I, Isabella Swan, loved Edward Cullen and I would die protecting him if I had to.
My silence was quickly followed up with a swift kick to my stomach, then another to my head, catapulting me into a sharp object to my left. I felt his steel-toed work boots slam down on my fingers of my right hand to force my arm to give out.
As I lay there, face down on the floor, my own blood surrounding me, I heard his angry chuckle. "I'm proud of you, Bella, even while you lay dying, you do it just as I want—like the little, subservient bitch you truly are."
Before everything could go dark, I heard a loud crash and the voice of my angel here to rescue me. "FBI! James Oliver, you are under arrest!"
So..um...yeah this was something totally new for me. My beta's and prereader really liked it, so please let me know your thoughts.
Voting opens May 23rd. To vote, please go to: seductivelysexycontest (.) blogspot (.) com/p/voting_12 (.) html
Thank you to CareMarie for inviting me to the contest!