A/N: Content warning: As I said at the end of my last chapter, this is the smut train. If you want to get off (completely intentional pun), get off now. :)
(PS, because of the tease a couple of chapters ago, my chapter numbering is off by one, so starting with this chapter, we're catching up. So, in essence, there was never an 8. There was a 7, then a 9. Make sense?)
Disclaimer: All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)
Beautiful chapter 9 - Outtake (or should I say Post-take) #1 - The Business Trip, Part I
"Boston? For a week? Really?"
I squealed with excitement and ran across the room, launching myself up in the air and wrapping my arms and legs around Edward's tall, strong body. He took a couple of steps back when I connected with him, steadying himself, but he easily supported my light frame against his. He held me tightly, his hands under my thighs, and buried his mouth in my hair, hungrily kissing my neck and licking my ear.
"If I knew that a trip to Massachusetts would get you this excited," he mumbled, "I would have taken you weeks ago."
I threw my head back and laughed.
Several weeks had passed since the night he stood up for me in front of his old mentor, Jasper. So much had happened that night. He told me that he loved me. He told me that he wanted to just be "Bella and Edward." He let his guard down and let me into his life. That entire weekend was a confusing emotional rollercoaster, but our relationship was stronger because of it.
It took awhile for us to figure out how to balance our lives as lovers with our lives as a Dominant and submissive couple, but we eventually found a way that worked for us. We didn't stick to a set schedule, unless that was part of the game. We would wait until we needed it, and we would let the other know through subtle - and sometimes, not-so-subtle - changes in tone, behavior, words, and actions.
It still amazed me how different he was when he became my Dominant. It was like he was a completely different person, but still Edward, my Edward. He would call me "Isabella," or give me a look - a cocked eyebrow, a sexy smirk - and I would know how he wanted me. And I would give myself to him, immediately and completely.
When I needed him in that way, it was a much simpler proposition for me. I would just drop to my knees in front of him, making sure that I was perfectly presented to him in the way that he had taught me. Concentrating on all the little details that told him that I remembered his words... the spread of my knees, the tilt of my head, the straightness of my spine. I wanted to please him so desperately, and when he walked that slow circle around my submissive form, muttering softly about how perfect I was, it made me feel complete.
I gave him a quick, wet kiss and hopped down from his body, and I ran to the huge walk-in closet in our bedroom and flung open the double doors.
"What should I pack?" I asked absently. I was already mentally cataloguing my entire wardrobe, pairing different pieces together to form a variety of outfits. "Do I need to bring dressy? Or casual? Or maybe a combination of - "
"Isabella," Edward interrupted, and I froze, a chill running quickly throughout my body. I knew that voice. I knew exactly what he looked like at that moment even though my back was to him. And I knew what he wanted. He needed me.
I dropped to my knees in the closet, right where I was standing, and I lowered my gaze to the floor.
"Sir?" I whispered, waiting for him to tell me what he wanted from me, how I could please him.
"Stand up please," he said, his voice smooth, but commanding. God, I loved that sound. He could do so much to me with just his voice, and he knew it. I stood, as he asked, and I could feel him behind me, hear him breathing. He was making me wait, purposefully. He always made me wait. I knew that he knew exactly what he was doing, what he had planned, and the anticipation of his actions affected my physical body almost as much as his touch.
Then, I felt his hand on my neck, pulling my hair to one side, and I gasped. I desperately needed him to touch me, anywhere, in any way that he wanted, but I kept myself still.
I could feel his breath, warm air moving seductively across my neck. Then, the softness of his lips. The wetness of his tongue.
"Here's what you need to pack, Isabella," he murmured against my skin. "Three blouses that button up the front. Three skirts. Three bras. Three sets of stockings. Three pairs of heels."
Three outfits? Only three? We were going to be there an entire week. I didn't understand yet, but I knew that he had a plan and that he would give me the details when he was ready.
He took a deep breath and blew it softly across my bare shoulder.
"One set, my sweet, is for the plane ride to Boston. You can leave that out on the bed for the morning. Don't pack it." It was an order, a demand, and I knew better than to question him, unless he gave me express permission. "One set is for the return trip." A soft kiss across the back of my neck and another slowly released, but contented, sigh. "The third is for a special night that I have planned while we're there."
I waited, his slow, steady breathing hypnotizing me. I knew there was more.
"Other than that," he said slowly, a smile in his voice, "you will not be allowed any clothing."
"You are just about perfect, Isabella."
We were packed and ready to go, getting ready to leave for the airport, when he stopped me in the foyer with that curious statement. Not perfect? What was I doing wrong? Whatever it was, I wanted to fix it as soon as possible. For him.
"Sir?" I asked, my panic starting to mount.
"Come here," he said roughly, pointing to the small table in the entranceway, the one just beneath a large, gilded mirror.
I walked over to him and waited. It was not my place to question him in any way unless he asked for my opinion.
"Turn around and look at yourself in the mirror."
I turned and looked at my reflection, hoping that I would understand, that I would somehow know what he wanted me to know. I was dressed in the outfit he had chosen... a dark blue fitted silk blouse, a flared taupe skirt, lace-topped taupe stockings, and taupe heels. I looked as I always looked when I was under his control - desperate to please and desperate to come. But it was him, standing behind me, that drew my attention. The hungry, almost feral expression on his face that made my knees weak and my thighs wet. He seemed to be at the very edge of his control, holding on tightly, and it surprised me that he was already so far gone. I had some catching up to do, and I had a sinking, delicious feeling that he had plans to get me there during the flight. In an airplane full of people.
My mind started to wander to all the things he would do to me, how he would push me right to the edge and pull me back, over and over again, until he knew that I couldn't take any more. Would he rent a car? Would he fuck me as soon as we got in it? Would we even make it to the car, or would he pull me into the men's room and fuck me in a generic stall? Or would he hire a driver, maybe a limo? Oh hell, yes. I wanted him to fuck me in the back of a moving limousine.
"Isabella," he snapped.
Damn. I lost my concentration again, and he knew it. I pulled myself into the present, determined to be better for him, but still not knowing what he wanted me to know.
"Are you with me now, little girl?" he asked with an edge to his voice.
"Yes, Sir," I apologized. "I'm so sorry, Master. I'm yours, completely yours, for whatever you desire."
His eyes burned at my statement, and I could see the taut muscles in his neck and jaw, flexing and releasing, his control, tenuous at best. I loved it when he was like this, when I made him like this. When I made him lose control.
"Very good, love," he said with a contented sigh, a single fingertip whispering across my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. "Bend down for me, please, Isabella." He pressed his palm very gently on the middle of my back until my chest was touching the foyer table. He lifted my skirt until it was at my waist, stroking and squeezing my bare ass. Panties weren't allowed on this trip, not even when I was wearing one of my three designated outfits.
His hand slipped between my legs, and he started rubbing slow circles around my clit. I was so wet already and wanted to beg him to fuck me, right then, but I knew that he wouldn't. That it wasn't his plan. His other hand slid behind my neck, his fingers weaving through my hair. He grabbed a handful, slowly increasing the tension, ensuring that I would feel it and know that he owned me. He pulled my head back, and I felt his lips again at my ear as he leaned over me.
"Look at yourself, Isabella," he growled. "Look what I do to you."
I opened my eyes, facing our reflections in the mirror. I hadn't even realized that I had closed them.
We were beautiful. Together, we were perfect, hungry, desperate. His finger hit a particularly sensitive spot, and I groaned and let my eyes close again, just to feel.
"I said open," he said sharply with a tug to my hair, and I forced my eyes back to the image in the mirror. The pain in my scalp was sharp and sweet, and it reminded me where I was and who I needed to be for him.
He removed his hands from me and reached into his pocket. His eyes were locked on mine in the mirror, and I dared not look away to see what he had, or what he was doing.
My heart was pounding, my breathing rapid, and all of my senses were incredibly sensitive, waiting to see or hear or feel some clue of what he was going to do.
The soft click made me jump, but I immediately knew what it was. He had just flipped open the cap of a bottle of lube, and as cool, slick drops hit my skin, I pushed my body back towards him, unable to control myself any longer.
"Master... please," I begged, but I knew it would not be that easy. It never was.
He slid his hand from my hair, quickly down my back, and pressed me gently into the table.
"Still yourself, Isabella," he said firmly, and he waited, not moving, until I calmed myself.
The lube was thick between my legs, and I could feel a tiny trickle running down the back of my thigh. He must have noticed it as well, and he slid his finger underneath it, running slowly upwards until his wet finger was back between my legs. He circled my back entrance once, slowly, giving me notice of what his intentions were, and then he slid his long, slick finger inside me.
It was decadent and forbidden, and I never grew tired of the feeling. It felt new every single time he did it, and I moaned loudly, unable to stop myself.
I watched him in the mirror as he stretched me, the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly into a beautiful, evil grin.
Then, he removed his finger and quickly slipped something inside me, something that wasn't him, and I knew it would be there for the remainder of our travel.
He grabbed my hair again and pulled me back up to a standing position, smoothing my skirt down into place.
"Now, my love," he whispered, "now you're perfect."
The seats in first class were wide and roomy, made of soft, creamy leather. Edward had graciously given me the window seat after asking for my preference. He was so thoughtful and caring of my desires, even when he was dominating me. It was very sweet.
I should have been comfortable and relaxed, but I couldn't concentrate on anything other than the object he had placed inside of me, wondering what he had planned for us. I knew that he would scold me for losing focus, but that was exactly his intention, teasing me mercilessly, keeping me off balance and on edge. He had lifted the arm rest between us, and even though we had our seat belts securely fastened, I was still able to snuggle into his side.
"Is there anything I can get you before takeoff?" the flight attendant asked, thick with invitation, smiling at Edward and leaning over unnecessarily.
She was young and attractive, and although we were obviously a couple, she was blatantly flirting with him. It didn't seem to matter to her that I was sitting right next to him, watching her audacity with raised eyebrows. He was holding my hand, and he lifted it to his mouth and gently kissed my knuckles while she waited for an answer, and her frozen smile dropped just enough for me to notice.
"Actually, yes," he said, looking at me while he spoke. "My beautiful girlfriend here," he said, smiling, and kissed my hand again, "is a little chilly and would like for you to bring her a blanket." I broke out in a huge grin, loving the way he phrased it, not as a request from him, but from me. That had to piss her off.
"Of course, Sir," she replied tersely, suddenly all business, but still speaking just to him. "And something to drink?"
I wondered, not for the first time, if it did anything for him when other women called him "Sir." I would have to remember to ask him that one day.
He turned to me, deferring to me, again.
"My love?" he asked sweetly, really pouring it on thick for her. "What would you like? Champagne?"
"If that's what you're having," I whispered back seductively, wanting to defer to him, to let him continue to make all decisions for us, but to maintain an acceptable public facade.
"Champagne it is," he said to the attendant. "And strawberries, if you have them."
She nodded sharply and ran off to get our drinks.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear, his hand on my stocking-covered thigh.
"I love you, Bella."
I sighed. So we were Edward and Bella again, at least for the moment. His mouth moved to my neck, and I felt his soft, warm lips on my skin. I squirmed in my seat, needing him so desperately already.
"I love you too, Edward," I moaned softly.
He smiled and kissed me, quite innocently, until I leaned into him, opening my mouth, and teased him with my tongue. We got carried away very quickly, and were unfortunately interrupted by the flight attendant standing at Edward's side, loudly clearing her throat.
He turned to her after a moment, and she flipped on that high-wattage smile from earlier. She was carrying a tray in one hand for the two crystal flutes of champagne and a small dish of the most beautiful, red strawberries I had ever seen. In her other hand was the blanket Edward had requested for me.
"Ma'am," she said coolly as she handled me the folded, gray blanket. I grabbed it from her with a nod, no response. She started to hand Edward one of the glasses of champagne, but we had nowhere to put them, so he lowered the tray table in front of him. He took the glass from her and handed it to me with another quick, but soft kiss, then grabbed the other glass and the dish of fruit from her, placing them on the table.
"Can I get you anything else?" she asked him, again, completely ignoring me.
He looked at me, and I smiled at him for playing the game for me so perfectly, and I shook my head.
"No, thanks," he said to her, and turned back to me, effectively dismissing her. The fake smile completely disappeared, and she left in a huff.
The champagne was cold and crisp and delicious, and half of my glass was gone before I knew it.
"Strawberry?" he asked, grabbing a large berry from the bowl and holding it up to me. I nodded quickly, wanting whatever it was he wanted to do with that piece of fruit. He brought it just short of my mouth and I parted my lips, waiting. He grinned, just slightly, the corner of his mouth turning up, that smirk that set my private parts on fire, and he touch the end of the berry to my lips, running it softly back and forth across my mouth.
Jesus, it was just fruit, but he had me so wound up from the minute I got out of bed that morning. I slipped my tongue out and touched the strawberry, keeping my eyes on his, and he groaned a little. God, I loved that I could do that to him.
"Bite," he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. He pushed the berry into my mouth, and I took half of it in my teeth, the juice coating my lips and running out of the corner of my mouth. He reached up with one finger and slowly swiped it across my chin, then lifted his wet finger to my mouth. I quickly and eagerly sucked it into my mouth, running my tongue down and around. I gladly fellated his finger, anxiously awaiting the moment when he would let me have the real thing.
"Fuck, Bella," he growled softly, pulling his finger out of my mouth and grabbing the back of my head. He kissed me hard and deep, and I briefly forgot where I was and started to climb into his lap.
"Ahem." Loud throat clearing by the attendant, who was once again standing directly next to Edward. He waited a beat or two to acknowledge her, and I loved him for that, for giving me the attention that she so obviously wanted. He was a little irritated that we had been interrupted, and in that second that it took for him to turn from me and look at her, his expression had completely morphed into one that I knew and craved - Dominant Edward. He looked at her with a cocked eyebrow, not speaking, and waited to see what she had to say.
"I'm sorry to bother y-," she started sarcastically, then suddenly stopped when she saw his expression. "I'm sorry, S-Sir," she stuttered nervously. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Wow. How did he do that? I didn't think that every woman in the world would be susceptible to his unique charms, but apparently he had more power than I thought. I had seen him do this more than once, turn a completely belligerent and rude female, as well as a couple of men, into a subservient puddle. It thrilled me so much more knowing that he was mine, and that he wanted me, not any of them.
He seemed somewhat satisfied with her change in demeanor, and waved a hand at her, indicating that she should continue. She cleared her throat again.
"Again, I apologize, Sir, but we're preparing for take off, so I'll need to collect the glasses and the dish." She was nervous about upsetting him, which of course, he loved. "But once we reach cruising altitude, I'll bring you both a fresh glass. And some fresh berries, of course!" she added, a little too enthusiastically. He nodded, and she collected the glasses and the dish, and then secured his tray table.
She scurried away to the galley as we heard the engines firing up.
He still had the half-eaten berry in his hand, and he grinned devilishly as he held it up to me, like he had gotten away with something. I giggled and bit my bottom lip without thinking.
"Isabella, your lip." Just like that, he turned, and I immediately stopped, knowing what it did to him. He took a deep breath and brought the berry back to my mouth, running the bitten end across my lips, wetting them and teasing me. I opened my mouth and reached for the berry, but right before I caught it between my teeth, he pulled it away and popped it into his mouth, chewing and laughing. Then, he kissed me, both of us tasting like juicy strawberries.
The flight wasn't that long, but the chill in the cabin and the droning of the engines put me quickly to sleep. Edward had covered us with the blanket when I started to doze, and I was nestled comfortably into his chest, his arm wrapped tightly around me.
I woke up gradually, both my consciousness and a realization of where I was slowly returning. My eyes were still closed when I felt his hand on my thigh under the blanket. Stroking my soft, warm skin. Travelling slowly beneath my skirt.
I turned to look at him, and there was a fire in his eyes, a look that said, I want you. Don't tell me no. Of course, I would never do that, and I couldn't imagine any situation in which I would ever deny him.
My legs were slightly open, as he had taught me, and I had apparently kept them that way even in my sleep. Or at least, I assumed I had. He might have pulled on my knee while I was napping.
When he reached my upper, inner thigh, I moaned softly, and he chuckled, then whispered in my ear.
"Quiet yourself, Isabella. You don't want anyone to know what we're doing, do you?"
"I wonder if they know what I did to you this morning, what's inside you right now."
Fuck. He was killing me. He knew exactly what this did to me. His fingers were now touching my soft, bare, private skin, and it was so difficult to hold it in, not make any noise. He kissed my ear, my neck... his tongue sneaking out for a taste.
"Mmm, your skin is so sweet," he teased, slipping a finger easily inside me, twisting and pulling it agonizingly slowly. "But not as sweet as this." He pulled his finger from me and held it up, slick and shiny, covered in my arousal. Then, he brought it to his mouth, licking and sucking the wetness from it while I watched.
"Jesus, Isabella, you taste so fucking good," he said with a soft growl. "When I get you to that hotel, I want you naked on the bed, spread wide for me, and I'm going to eat that fucking pussy of yours until you scream." And before I could even react to his illicit words, he grabbed my head and crushed his lips to mine, kissing me hard and deep and long, my taste still thick on his tongue.
After a few minutes, he pulled back to look at me, and I felt his hand beneath my skirt again, the blanket covering our activity.
"Wider," he ordered, tapping his hand on the inside of my knee. I opened my legs as much as could while keeping them covered with the blanket.
"Good girl," he whispered, his hand sliding quickly back between my legs. I was wearing no underwear so there was nothing to stop him, and his fingers were brushing against my clit before I knew it. I lifted my hips to him instinctively, and he quickly reacted, moving his hand just enough to press me back into the seat.
"Hold still, little girl. Focus," he ordered, and slipped his hand back between my legs. He slipped a finger inside of me, fucking me with it slowly, his thumb slowly circling my swollen and aching clit.
Fuck, I would never be able to withstand this, so much sensory input, with what he did to me this morning. I could still feel it inside me, and that, combined with what he was doing to me at the moment, well, I didn't think I would last. I hoped that was his intention, because I would hate to disappoint him.
I concentrated on keeping myself still and quiet, but I could feel my orgasm quickly building.
"Master, please," I begged in a quiet whisper.
"Isabella!" he said with mock surprise. a smirk on that beautiful mouth. "Are you going to come right here on this airplane? In front of all of these people?" His fingers increased their pace and pressure, and I was instantly that much closer to coming, barely holding on. His words incited me, and he knew it. "You know, that flight attendant could be back at any minute. Do you want her to watch you?" He turned his head to the aisle and leaned over, pretending to look for her. "I can call her over. Is that what you want, my lovely, dirty girl?"
"No!" I exclaimed immediately, a little too loud. "Master, please," I whispered, "I need to come, Please, please, I'll do anything, please," I begged.
"Oh, I know you'll do anything, Isabella." he said with a grin. "You are fucking mine. I own you, and I've got some plans for you, little girl."
His finger inside me curled up and pressed against me, rubbing back and forth, as his thumb pressed directly on my clit, sliding it back and forth, pushing me dangerously close to the edge. He leaned into me, his mouth on my ear.
"Come for me, beautiful," he whispered.
Before I had met Edward, I imagined what it would be like to have a Dominant control my orgasms, from all of my reading and research. Ordering me not to come when he was pushing me. How the hell would I hold off? I had tried to control myself when I was alone in my bedroom, vibrator in hand, but when that feeling started rolling through me, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was never able to do it, which always made me nervous that I would never be able to please my Master. And since I wasn't able to do that, how, also, would I be able to come on command when he finally gave me permission? I was never able to do that either... tell myself, "come now" and force the orgasm to happen.
But I quickly learned the difference after only a short time with Edward. The difference was him. His manner, his attitude, his words, his voice. Everything about him made me want to please him, and I was quickly able to give him what he wanted from me.
And right now, he wanted me to come in an airplane full of people.
So I did.
I lifted my hips to his hand, unable to control that need, but I kept myself quiet, except for some heavy-panting/breath-holding combinations.
He watched me as the wave erupted throughout my body, tingling and throbbing in my fingers and my toes, covering every single inch of my over-heated flesh.
"Beautiful," he whispered soothingly in my ear, his fingers now stroking the skin of my thigh. He kissed my neck, my jaw, my chin, until his warm, soft lips finally reached my own, his mouth pressing gently against me softly.
We landed shortly thereafter, but thankfully, just enough time for me to get control of my limbs again. I was weak as a kitten after that orgasm, and I never would have made it out of the plane.
We walked down the aisle of the plane, slowly waiting our turn to exit, and I rubbed my legs together, still aroused, feeling the wetness on my thighs. Edward was standing directly behind me and knew exactly what I was doing. He wrapped one arm around my waist, pulling me back until I was pressed against his body, and brought his mouth to my ear again.
"Anxious already, my love?" he teased. "Didn't I just let you come?" He nipped at my ear, and the feeling instantly shot through me, that delicious mix of pain and pleasure that I had come to crave with him.
"I should warn you, baby" he whispered. "The next one is mine, and I'll want it soon."
Fuck. What the hell did that mean? Would he drag me into the men's room as I thought earlier? "Soon" could mean any number of things, and I knew he was just tormenting me, making me wait, making me wonder what he was planning.
We exited the airplane, walked through the Jetway, and into the airport, his hand securely wrapped around my own. We curiously skipped the baggage carousel and the car rental counter, and instead, we walked outside the building where the taxis and busses lined up. Immediately, a sleek black Town Car pulled up, right in front of us, and the driver, dressed in a black suit and white shirt, hopped out and walked quickly in front of us.
"Mr. Cullen, Sir," he said, seeming to know Edward.
"Paul," Edward nodded in acknowledgement. So it seemed they did know each other. Edward's regular driver in town?
Paul opened the back passenger door, and Edward gestured for me to enter first. He constantly amazed me with his connections, his planning, his forethought. His confidence was one of the sexiest things about him, knowing that he knew what he wanted it, and that he always made it happen. That he would always get his way.
I slid along the rich leather seats and started to buckle myself in. The back seat was roomier, much more space than a standard car. It must be specially made for this purpose, for transporting extremely wealthy men to wherever they wanted to go in complete comfort. Edward slipped in next to me, and Paul closed his door and climbed back into the driver's seat. He didn't ask Edward where he was going, didn't talk to us at all. He just started driving.
"Unbuckle your seatbelt and get on your knees on the seat, facing me," Edward said softly. It was clear that this was an order, not to be discussed, and that I should act immediately.
I turned to look at him, my head whipping to the front seat, to Paul. There was no divider, no privacy. He would be able to hear, and somewhat see, everything that I was about to do. That immediately mortified me and thrilled me, and when I looked back at Edward, his expression was determined and not pleased. I had lost my focus again, and I had hesitated.
"Sorry, Master," I mumbled, knowing that the driver could hear, wondering what he thought of our arrangement. I quickly removed my seat belt and climbed up on my knees, turning to face Edward.
"It's my turn now, Isabella," he said. He was turned on, I could tell. His jaw was tight, and the muscles there were tensing. "Come down here and show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do."
Shit. Why was this so much more difficult than what I did with Carlisle? He was pretty much a complete stranger when Edward was touching me in the movie room, and then, that next day in the dining room. Fuck, I was losing focus again. I needed to do what he requested, when he requested it, and not worry about anything else. I had to trust that he knew what he was doing and that he would take care of me.
I leaned over and opened the button on Edward's expensive trousers, then brought the zipper down swiftly, but carefully. I could immediately see his erection, stretching against the fabric of his boxers, and I knew he needed me. I ran my fingertips softly and slowly across the fabric, feeling the aching hardness beneath, and I was enthralled. It always amazed me that he could be this hard, this needy, and that it was because of me. That I was responsible. That I could make him this turned on. He was breathing hard, and I knew that he was affected by my touch. I could do this forever.
"Now, Isabella," he growled, and flinched his hips upward.
Damn it, I did it again. I always thought too much with Edward, and I knew he was being patient and gracious because I was new, but that wasn't going to last forever. I had to get my shit together and act when he demanded it. So, I pulled his boxers down as far as they would go, and his cock popped out, hard and throbbing and stretching towards his stomach. I wrapped my fingers around the bottom of it and pulled it back a little, then lowered my mouth onto him, just sucking the head between my lips to start. Slowly pulling it in and out of my mouth, using my tongue in slow circles, then slipping back and forth into his slit.
I could feel his fingers lacing through my hair, pulling just enough for me to feel his passion and his need for me, and I heard him moaning.
"God, yes, Isabella," he groaned. "Like that... just like that."
It was quiet in the car. Paul wasn't playing any music or anything, so the only thing we could hear was the wet sound of my mouth on Edward's dick and Edward's words and moans. I wondered what Paul thought of all of this. He had to be hearing this, knowing exactly what we were doing.
And then I wondered if it was turning him on too.
And fuck, did that make me hot.
I worked a little harder, both for Edward and my audience of one, and sucked more of Edward's hard cock into my mouth. A long, hard pull, and I was rewarded with a deep groan from my Master. I loved it when he let me know that I was doing it right, that I was pleasing him, because, after all, that was why I was here.
He gently pushed my head down, letting me know what he wanted, and I gladly gave it to him, taking his entire length into my mouth.
"Yes," he said softly, controlling my actions with his hands on my head, his fingers in my hair. "All the way down, Isabella. Take it all."
Well, there was no doubt now that Paul knew exactly what I was doing. I knew he could hear us, but I wondered if he could see anything in the rear-view mirror. Probably just Edward's face. I almost wished he could see me.
I tightened my lips around Edward's length and increased the pressure of my mouth on the upstroke, then swallowed him quickly on the way back down. Every few strokes, I would pause at the head of his cock and circle it with my tongue, teasing the ridge and the slit until I elicited a noise from my Master. It pleased me so much to hear him make those noises, to know know that I was pleasing him.
He started moving his hips with my strokes, meeting my mouth, and I knew that he was close, so I pulled my lips back a bit, and grazed my teeth along his skin, knowing how much he liked that.
"Oh fuck, baby, yes... that feels so good," he moaned loudly. "Do that again. Don't fucking stop."
So I didn't.
I gave him exactly what he wanted. More lips, more tongue, more teeth. Just more.
"Jesus, your mouth, Isabella," he panted. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop. I'm going to come, baby."
His fingers tightened in my hair, pulling and pushing, and it felt amazing. I felt him starting to twitch in my mouth, and I knew he was close. Then, he stilled, just for a second or two, and then he started to come, hot and wet, pulsing down my throat.
"Fuck," he said, a little too loudly in the quiet car. "I'm coming, Isabella. Fuck, take it all... yes... such a good girl... my beautiful girl."
He was moaning and whispering sweet words to me as he finished, softly stroking my hair, no longer pulling and pushing, and when he was finally done, he pulled me up to him and looked deeply in my eyes. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin, softly, gently.
"That was fucking amazing, Isabella, thank you," he whispered, then pulled me to him, pressing his lips softly to mine. He kissed me sweetly, almost reverently, then pulled back just enough to whisper in my ear.
"I love you, Bella."
The hotel was regal and sumptuous, the style evocative of both the old and the new. Edward checked in at the desk, and again, they seemed to know him, greeted him instantly by name, and handed him his keycards immediately, without the usual computer keyboard clicking and paperwork. He just walked up, said hello, and they handed him his cards.
Power. Intelligence. Control. He was so fucking perfect.
We rode up the mirror-lined elevator in silence, but I could feel him looking at me. It was as if I could sense his growing need and desire for me, and my body was instantly responding. I wanted him to grab me, slam me up against the elevator wall, and push my skirt up, fucking me hard, right there, but he kept his distance.
The elevator finally stopped, and we walked down the end of the hall to the very last room. There weren't very many doors on this floor, which made me a little curious, but as soon as he opened the door, and I walked in, I knew why. It was an absolutely huge suite, and I realized that the entire floor must have been made of the same, maybe only eight or ten suites in all.
There was a foyer with a mirrored closet, a large, fully equipped kitchen, a comfortable sitting room with a huge flat screen television, and a full formal dining room. Off to the side was the door to the bedroom, which held a massive bed with rich dark wood furnishings. I knew of Edward's tastes for dark wood, and I had to wonder if they picked this furniture specifically with him in mind, or if this was just something that he had discovered.
And one bedroom? That was interesting, considering that I still slept in my bedroom at Edward's home while we were playing. I only slept in his bed when we had returned to just "Edward and Bella." It was a nice balance, and it worked for both of us.
I had assumed that we would be Master and submissive for this entire trip, but maybe he had other plans. Again, I couldn't second guess him. I had to trust in him and his choices.
I noticed that our luggage was already in the bedroom, stacked neatly to the side. I didn't see it at the airport, and it certainly wasn't in our car. Someone must have picked it up and brought it to the room. I just shook my head, again, just needing to trust in him and his mysterious ways.
"Something wrong, Isabella?" he asked coolly.
I turned to look at him, and he looked impatient, his eyebrow cocked, waiting on me.
"No, Sir," I replied immediately, my eyes to the ground. "Just curious how the luggage got here, that's all."
"Isabella, you know that I have my ways," he chuckled, and he was suddenly right behind me, whispering in my ear. "I'd like for you to do something for me, please, my lovely."
"Yes, Sir, of course," I said quickly, eager for anything he wanted. "Anything you want."
He smiled at me and reached for my hand.
"Come into the bathroom with me, please," he said, walking away from me, but holding my hand and pulling me behind him. He brought us into the oversized bathroom until we were facing the mirror. He grabbed a small hand towel from the rack, placing it on the counter, and turned back to me.
"Bend over please," he ordered. "Hands on the counter, legs apart."
Jesus, that tone of voice. I just loved it, and I ached for more. So, I did exactly as he requested, bending at the waist, and I waited for his next move.
"Fuck, you look unbelievable like this, baby," he said, his hand sliding up my leg, just above my stocking on bare skin, then stroking softly across my ass, pushing my skirt up to my waist. "Bent over, naked beneath your skirt. Wet. Waiting for me."
He brought both of his hands to my hips and held me firm, making slow circles on my skin, stroking and squeezing the flesh of my ass, his fingers dipping between to tease me with soft touches. I moaned softly and pushed back towards him, wanting him to grab me, claim me, fuck me. He touched the object that he had placed inside me that morning, pushing on it gently, moving it inside me, sending a jolt throughout my body.
I groaned loudly. I wanted to scream, but I held back, knowing there might be people on the other side of the wall.
"Oh, God, Master," I begged. "Please, please, more."
He must have grabbed the object then, because I could feel it inside me as he started to slowly fuck me with it, pulling and pushing and twisting it, and I moved with him, matching his rhythm.
Then, suddenly, it was gone. The feeling, the object, all of it.
I looked up at the mirror, watching as Edward wrapped the object in the small hand towel, throwing it in the sink. Then, he stood up and met my gaze.
"Take a quick shower, Isabella, then meet me in the sitting room," he directed. "No towel, no robe. Naked. On your knees, to the left of my chair."
Then, he walked out of the room without another word and closed the door behind him.
I quickly ran the water, stripped out of my clothing, and hopped into the shower. I let my mind wander as the soap and hot water cascaded off of my skin, thinking about what Edward might have planned for us, imagining a variety of scenarios. Of course, I lost focus, the water turning cold, and I had to rush to finish.
I dried myself quickly with the large, white towel and looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was flushed pink, and my eyes were wide and dark. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, biting softly, then realizing what I was doing, I immediately stopped myself, even though he wasn't here to see it. I brushed my hair back from my face and ran my hands down my naked body, trying to prepare myself mentally. I took a deep breath and released it, and then I walked into the room.
Edward was sitting in a large, overstuffed chair, his jacket and tie removed, his legs crossed. There was a beautiful cut crystal decanter on the table next to him, filled with a rich amber liquid - his specific brand of bourbon, I assumed - and he was already sipping out of a short, heavy bar glass. He seemed to be patiently waiting for me and watching me closely as I stood in the doorway between the two rooms.
He leveled his eyes at me, frowning just a bit, and I silently chided myself for taking too long. I wondered if I would ever be able to just act immediately when he asked, without over-thinking, without debating.
I walked quickly to his side, kneeling at the left side of his chair, sitting on my heels. I brought my eyes to the floor, my hands clasped behind my back. My back was straight, my knees open. I was hoping that I remembered everything that he had taught me, and that I was doing it all to his satisfaction. I really wanted to make him happy.
But, he didn't react at all to my presence, to my kneeling at his feet.
He just sat there, playing with his iPhone, checking and sending emails, I guessed. He worked constantly, early in the morning and sometimes late into the night after I had gone to sleep. But, somehow, he always found time for me. Not only in the whiteroom, but also just... couple time, time for us to get to know each other as people. Our likes, our dislikes. We took lots of walks on his grounds, we watched movies in his theater room, we ate in expensive restaurants. He even took me out dancing a couple of times, to a really exclusive nightclub. He really was terribly attentive and sweet.
Fuck, focus, Isabella. That had to be what he was doing, I thought. Somehow, he knew. Knew that I was not where I needed to be mentally, and he was giving me time.
I took a deep breath and started to concentrate on my body, on making sure that everything about my presentation was perfect. I started to empty my mind, clearing it of everything except what was happening at that exact moment... the feel of the carpet on my knees, the coolness of the air on my bare skin, the soft hum of the air conditioner, the sound of the ice in my Master's drink, the pleasant smell of the lavender candle burning in the bathroom.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly... very, very slowly. I settled into my position, thinking only about pleasing my Master and how I could be better for him. I straightened my back a little more, lengthened my neck, lifted my chest. My breathing was soft and slow and steady.
Time went by. I wasn't sure how much, but it didn't matter to me if it was an hour or a day. I was only there in the moment at my Master's desire, and his desire was for me to kneel patiently at his side, waiting for his need. There was no place I would rather be than serving him.
Eventually, he stood from the chair, straightening his slacks as he reached his full height. He placed his phone and his glass on the table next to him, and he turned to me, not yet speaking. He started to walk around me, very slowly... to my side, around my back, until finally stopping, directly behind me.
I took another deep breath and released it slowly, concentrating on relaxing the parts of my body that had tensed up, perfecting my positioning, thinking only of him... emptying my mind of anything that wasn't my Master.
I could hear him, feel him. He had started to walk again... around to my side, then slowly, finally, until he was again standing in front of me. All I could see of him was his shoes, the bottom of his slacks. I noticed that he was standing with his feet shoulder width apart, and I absently wondered if he ever stood any other way.
Empty, Isabella, empty.
I finally heard him - a chuckle, a soft sigh.
"You are perfect, Isabella," he said softly, stressing each word. "Absolutely perfect."
I wanted to scream and shout and jump into his arms, wrapping my body around his, hugging and kissing him until he begged me to stop. I was so happy when he was pleased with me, and when he called me "perfect," it was the most amazing sense of accomplishment, joy, and satisfaction.
I felt his hand on the top of my head, stroking my hair, my cheek. Then, his finger slipped beneath my chin, lifting my face to his. I kept my eyes down as much as I could, staring at his slacks, his thighs, his hips, his waist... his cock, pressing against the fabric between his legs.
"Look at me, sweet girl," he said.
I raised my eyes to his, and my breath stuttered for a moment. Jesus, he was beautiful,,, achingly handsome. I was so hungry for him that I wanted to lick my lips or bite my bottom lip, but I resisted.
"You are perfect, my love," he said again with a small smile, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. He cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter.
"This is how I would like to see you, Isabella, every day when I get back to the hotel. I have several meetings each day, and I would like to be greeted with a fresh glass of bourbon and my submissive on her knees."
He held my chin in his hands, firmly but gently, and I knew that he was serious, that whatever he was telling me, that I should pay strict attention.
"Do you understand, Isabella?" he asked. His voice was deep and rough, but so compelling. He was slowly driving me insane with his mastery of his art.
"Yes, Sir," I said softly, my voice soft and desperate. "I understand."
He watched me for a moment or two, then rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip, slowly, almost absently, before lifting his hand to my side.
"Stand, please, Isabella," he said. "Give me your hand."
I put my hand in his, and he helped me to my feet. Once I regained my balance, he lifted my hand to his lips and brushed his mouth across my knuckles, so sweet and gentle.
"Up on the table, please," he ordered.
There was a small, round table just behind us, in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window, a spectacular view that I had noticed when we walked in. Night had fallen, and the lights in the room had turned the window into a giant mirror. I looked at our reflection, just for a moment, and my heart thudded in my chest.
I climbed up on the table, my legs hanging over the edge, and I waited for further instruction.
"Lay back, Isabella," he said. "All the way down. Flat on the table."
I leaned back until I felt the cool wood against my skin, staring up at the ceiling, so anxious for whatever he had planned.
"Lift your legs, pretty girl. Up on the table, feet at your hips."
God, his voice. It was deep and rich and commanding, and it increased the ache between my legs. I was throbbing now, desperate for his touch, and needing to come. I felt his hands on my hips, pulling me to the very edge of the table, then slipping down to my ankles, pushing them further back and out.
He sat in the chair, his face between my thighs, and I heard him take a deep breath.
"Fuck, you smell good, baby," he groaned. "And look at you," he teased. "So ready for me." He ran a fingertip between my legs. "Pink... and swollen... and slick."
He had barely touched me, and I was already squirming on the table.
"Still yourself, Isabella," he warned. "Or I'll walk away. You know I'll do it."
I couldn't see him, in my current position, but I could hear the tone of his voice, and I knew that he meant it. He wouldn't want to walk away, to stop, but he would if he needed to. It had happened before, more than once.
I took a deep breath and held still.
"That's my girl," he said, his hand stroking my leg, reassuring me that he was still pleased with me. And then I felt him... his warm breath, his soft lips, his wet tongue. He was moving slowly, deliberately, barely touching me, and it was driving me insane. I spread my hands on the table, trying to hold onto something, scraping my fingernails against the wood until my hands were clenched tightly into fists. It took all of my willpower to hold my body motionless.
He grabbed my thighs and slowly pushed them back, opening me further, and I felt his tongue travel from my very bottom, up through my wetness, and then circling my clit.
I moaned loudly, unable to control myself, wanting to scream dirty words in the quiet hotel room, telling everyone what he was doing to me and how he made me feel.
But I squeezed my lips tightly shut, swallowing my words.
He was making the most delicious sounds as he teased me with his tongue, and I was close to coming already. It had been a long day, and he had been tormenting me since the moment I woke up that morning.
"You taste so good, baby," he moaned. "Let me hear you, Isabella," he directed, then pressed his mouth between my legs, hard, his tongue deep inside me, fucking me. I moaned loudly, but he wanted more, and he sucked my clit into his mouth, pressed tightly between his lips, his tongue flicking it back and forth.
"Oh, fuck!" I screamed, "Yes, please... oh please, don't stop, Master," I begged. He had just started, and I was begging already. I felt one of his hands leave my thigh, and then his long, slender finger slid inside me, pressing and twisting. He increased the pressure and movement on my clit, and the combination of sensations brought me quickly to the edge. I knew I couldn't hold out much longer, and I really didn't want to fail him.
"Master, please... I'm so close... so close... I'm going to... oh fuck, please!"
Then, his hands were gone, his mouth was gone, his tongue was gone. And I was panting, trying to catch my breath, my head spinning, trying to keep up.
"Not yet, my love," he chuckled beneath me. "That one on the plane was an easy one. I have something I want to do first."
He grabbed my hips, lifting me off the table, and flipped me over until my stomach was pressed into the wood. His hands held my thighs and pulled me open, slamming into me in one long, hard motion.
I screamed, words escaping me as he started to fuck me. I lifted my head, needing to see him, to see his expression, his beautiful face, and I watched our reflection in the mirrored window. He was stunningly beautiful in his need, a grimace on his face, dripping in sweat, brow furrowed. He was holding my hips and pulling me back to him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He grunted and moaned, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.
Finally, he looked up, and our eyes met in the window. He grinned at me.
"Can you see out the window, Isabella?" he said between pants and thrusts. "Can you see all those people out there watching you? All I can see is our reflection, but I think someone is out there, right now, looking at you."
I closed my eyes, unable to stop myself from imagining what he was saying. That maybe someone in the next building was sitting in the dark, watching what he was doing to me. I was naked and spread open on the table, and he was fucking me from behind, pounding into me mercilessly, and the thought that some nameless person might see us was thrilling.
"How did it feel today, Isabella, hmm?" he asked. "How did it feel to have my plug in your ass, slowly fucking you all day long?"
His fingers played between the cheeks of my ass, lightly stroking and circling my entrance, and I moaned softly, biting my lip to try to keep quiet.
"I want to hear you, Isabella," he ordered. "Don't hold back."
I starting shaking my head, finding it difficult to form words as he moved his cock inside me, his fingers exploring between my legs.
"Don't tell me no, Isabella," he growled. "Don't ever fucking tell me no. You can fucking tell me red, but never tell me no."
"But, Master," I gasped. "They'll hear us. Next door. The suites next door."
He shook his head and chuckled.
"No, my lovely," he said with a grin, his hips never stopping. "No, they won't." He smiled and laughed some more. "I bought the suites on either side, pretty girl. They're empty." He grabbed my hips, hard, and plunged his cock deep within me. "You can be as loud as you want. And I want to fucking hear you."
"Oh, God," I moaned. I couldn't hold it in any longer, and with his permission, I started to scream with each thrust, holding the edge of the table to brace against his strokes. I could feel his hand on my thighs, pulling me up just a little, and then he pushed even deeper, fucking me harder.
"Oh, God, please Master!" I screamed. "Please let me come, please, please," I muttered. "I'm so close, so close... oh please."
It seemed as if he didn't hear me, that he wasn't listening. He just watched our reflection in the window.
"Fuck, look at us, Isabella," he said in that thick, deep voice. I squeezed my eyes closed and tightened myself around his cock. "Open your eyes, and fucking look at us!"
I lifted my head and looked at the window, locking my eyes with his.
"Watch me fucking you, Isabella."
He said it so quietly. He knew that I was listening to every word, watching his face, and I did as he asked.
He pushed me back down on the table, one hand in the middle of my back keeping me in place, the other on my calf, bending my leg at at the knee, spreading me open for him.
"Oh, fuck, yes," he groaned. "You look so fucking good like this, baby... so fucking open." His pace increased, his cock moving deeper and harder inside me in this position. "I love fucking you like this."
His fingers pressed deeply into my flesh, pulling me into him, and I should have felt pain, but all I could feel was how much he wanted me.
"I'm close, baby," he growled. "So fucking close... yes. I want you to come for me now, sweet girl. Can you do that for me, baby?"
"Oh God, yes, Master, yes!" I screamed, and he slid a hand beneath me, his fingers pressing on my clit, making slow circles, matching the thrusts of his hips. He grabbed my clit between his fingers, pinching steadily, and slowly rubbed from side to side.
And I fell, hard. Over the edge, screaming, no words. I was speechless, my body electrified, tingling, throbbing, gasping for breath. My bones turned soft, my muscles limp.
I laid there, panting and sweating, and I realized that he was still fucking me. I could still feel his fingers pressed into my hips, pulling and pushing with each stroke. I lifted my head and watched him in the window reflection.
He was so close, I could tell. I knew what he looked like right before he came, and he was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his neck, under his shirt collar, the shirt he never took off.
He groaned loudly and pressed into me hard, holding himself there for a moment, and I could feel it, feel him coming inside me. His cock was twitching, but he was still moving, very slowly, as he continued to come.
Finally, he stilled, collapsing on top of me, the fabric of the shirt rubbing on my back. I could feel the buttons pressing into my skin, making tiny marks.
He kissed my neck, softly, his hand stroking the skin of my arm.
"Baby," he whispered in my ear, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. "God, I love you... so fucking much."
He lifted up from me, pulling away, and I could feel his come leaking out of me, running slowly down my thighs. He grabbed my hips and lifted me up, turning me around so that I was sitting on the table in front of him.
He stood before me, standing between my legs, and he took my face into his hands.
He kissed my forehead, softly, reverently.
He kissed my chin.
He hissed the tip of my nose.
A/N: This was the business trip, part I. There will be a part 2, but you know how slowly I write, so please be patient with me. :)
Thank you to everyone who gently prodded me since my last update, asking when I was going to post again. I really do love hearing from you. So please, don't stop. :)
Sorry for the thing with the strawberries – I know it was a little trite and overused, but once I wrote it, I couldn't take it out. So please forgive me, and I hope you didn't roll your eyes too much.
Thank you, MaBarberElla, for calling me every so often, not just to talk, but so that I can look at that superhot pic of Rob that I have as your caller ID pic. Ha! And thanks for instantly getting why that pic of him with the black shirt just DID it for me. :)
And thanks, as always, to my best friend and amazing beta, LibbyLou862 for TRULY being an excellent beta. It's not as important to everyone - grammar, punctuation, spelling, tense - but it's REALLY important to us, and I love that she takes it as seriously as I do.
And extra special thanks for her for giving me the BEST early birthday present ever... SO MUCH FUN! I love you Libby!Until next time...