A/N: This was written for the lovely MJinAspen's birthday. It is based on a very NSFW photo found here: http:/mjinaspen(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/11496943372/nsfw-ive-already-re-blogged-this-but-i-really
Thank you to my beta, TwilightMundi, and to CandyCanesFly for giving me last-minute reassurance.
Extravagant wasn't even a good way to describe Carlisle. He was beyond extravagant.
When we began dating, he would take me to the finest restaurants. He never once hinted that I wasn't cultured enough to join him. He treated me like royalty, even jokingly called me Princess for a few weeks.
He looked at me like I was a precious jewel and I truly believed that I sparkled under his gaze.
The first time I met Carlisle was when I was working. He'd come in to the diner I waitressed at and was seated in my section. His hair was dishwater blond and thick, with the lightest sprinkle of grey at the temples. Before I'd even taken his order, I caught myself thinking about sinking my fingers into his hair and pulling as he kissed me hard. Sure, I'd had dirty thoughts about some of the patrons before, but most proved themselves to be overgrown frat boys by the time they left. Or married women.
"Welcome to Pie in the Sky. My name is Rosalie and I'll be serving you today. Do you know what you'd like?"
"Yes," he said, not looking up at me. I was surprised; it usually took forever for people to browse the extensive list and decide. "I'll have the pecan, please, and a cup of coffee."
"Cream and sugar?"
"No, thank you."
"I'll have that right out for you, sir."
I gathered his menu and, without the shield blocking his face, finally caught a glimpse of his blue-grey eyes. They were tired and sad at the edges. I thought about him, weaving his story in my head as I worked.
When I delivered his pie and coffee, I noticed his fancy electronics spread on the table.
"Sad when a worker bee can't even recharge with some pie."
He laughed and looked up from his phone. "I sort of wish I was a worker bee, Rose. Unfortunately, several hundred families count on my obsessive drive to work. Thankfully, though, I can enjoy my pie while I do it. Do you enjoy your job?"
In five years of waiting tables, no one had ever asked me that. The shock from the question outweighed my slight irritation at his use of the informal version of my name, which I hadn't given him permission to do.
"It's a job," I said, shrugging. "I don't love or hate it. Pays the bills, you know?"
Just then, Aro called me to the back to reprimand me for flirting with the customers. He wouldn't hear my side of it at all — I'd barely spoken to Carlisle at that point — he just warned me that he had his eye on me.
I knew he did; creeper had been trying to get into my skirt for months. I'd done everything I could — I stopped wearing makeup, stopped fixing my hair in any special way, and tried actually saying no (more than once) — to dissuade him, all to no avail.
Just to piss Aro off even more (he wouldn't fire me — I was the best server he had), I lingered at Carlisle's table. I poured him coffee more frequently than the other customers. I smiled, I made funny jokes, and I was extra sweet.
After the first few visits to his table, though, my trips changed. They became selfish. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to tell him more about me. I wanted those beautiful eyes to skim my body.
When he looked me up and down, he clearly wasn't ashamed. I wasn't embarrassed to have him do it, either. Nothing about the way he looked and appraised made me feel slutty or dirty like other men had.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I asked, a teasing tone in my voice. He'd been sitting at the same table for several hours, ice water chasing his coffee and pie.
"I do," he said, setting his papers down and sitting back in his chair. His arms moved up behind his head and I watched them flex beneath the fabric, cufflinks winking at me as the light made them sparkle. "I'm already late for a board meeting. I just can't seem to want to be there more than I want to be sitting right here with you. If my company goes under, it'll be all your fault."
I was tempted to call him out for lying, but something about the way he looked at me and the tone in his voice made me think he was being dead serious. His smile was playful, and I wanted to see him look like that again and again. The edges of his eyes had softened, the sadness still there, but a spark of something more, too. I needed more of that — more of his smile and laugh.
"Well, I don't want to be responsible for your company collapsing. Why don't you leave me your number. I'll call you after my shift."
He sat up, grabbing his sleek, white phone that was light years ahead of my clamshell. "Promise?"
"Sure. Any man who sits in my section for five hours just to talk has to be worth at least a phone call, right?"
One of his eyebrows lifted and the smile on his face turned into a smirk. "I assure you, it will be worth it."
He was right, it totally was. That was five years ago.
"You look radiant, my love." Carlisle extended a hand, walking to me. My hand fit into his and he squeezed as he twirled me, finally stopping when I was in front of him. My back was to his chest, both of us looking into the floor-length mirror in our bedroom. "There is one thing missing from this outfit, though, and one thing you won't need."
His other hand moved around the front of us, extending and revealing a large rectangular velvet box. I smiled, having long ago given up fighting him. There were worse things in life than a husband that loved to spoil you.
"The diamonds that will try to outshine you all night."
As he clasped the jewels around my neck, his body pressed against mine. God, I wanted him. Surely we had ten minutes. My eyes closed and my head tipped back to rest on his shoulder as he reached my breasts, dipping under the satin cups of my strapless gown and playing.
"You haven't asked me what you won't need yet," he said. His hot breath turned cold against my skin, wet from his mouth.
"Sir, Henry is here," the butler announced over the intercom.
"No more time to waste," he said, removing his hands and fixing my dress.
Walking around to face me, Carlisle kissed the exposed swell of my breast, his hands gripping my hips tightly.
You'd have never known he was in a hurry to get to the year-end holiday party for his company at a swank hotel. Things couldn't really kick off until the CEO gave his speech and dinner was served.
I stood in place like the good girl I was, looking down and watching as he opened his mouth again and kissed my abdomen. His knee rested on the floor, hands running up the back of my smooth legs. He pulled my body closer as he kissed the spot over my pussy. The anticipation continued to build, my desire reaching new heights.
"These won't be necessary," he said, carefully removing the expensive underwear I'd selected. "I think they belong in my pocket all night so we can both remember who owns you."
And who owns you, darling.
Over the last few years, we played as we loved. We learned what we liked and what we disliked. Sometimes, it meshed. Sometimes it didn't. Carlisle had experimented much more than I had, but it didn't bother me. I wanted him, wanted to please him and watch his face as I brought him pleasure. I wanted him to tie me down and do whatever he wanted, however he wanted it, because of the bond we'd woven. My trust of him was implicit and infinite. He would never push too far, never dip into an area he knew I wasn't okay with. He respected me, respected my body, and he liked to bring me just as much pleasure as I brought him.
In the car, he continued to tease me. I sat next to him, checking my email on my BlackBerry and catching up on the news. Carlisle's fingers traced the shape of my knee, dipping over the curve of it and snaking up the slit in my dress to my thigh. Fabric never stopped him, and his hand splayed against my thigh, gripping and releasing quickly. My heart beat faster.
There was no room in my brain for the usual thoughts about the jiggle he must've felt, my entire thoughts occupied with what he had in mind. How he would decide to take me later. Which ways he might make me earn my own pleasure.
When we arrived at the hotel and Henry opened the door, Carlisle walked out first, then extended his hand to me. Arm-in-arm, we looked perfect to everyone else. Later, in our bedroom, I knew we'd feel perfect, too. The thought made my smile arc wider.
"Carlisle," Jasper Whitlock, Carlisle's trusted CFO and close friend, greeted us. "Rose."
"No numbers tonight, Jasper. Just fun," Carlisle reminded him. "Let's go get some whiskey."
I was thankful for Carlisle's friendship with Jasper. He'd been a reserved man, perhaps even reclusive, when we first met, and it showed at work, too. I could still vividly remember the night he came home and told me he'd gone to lunch with Jasper, and how much fun he'd had, as if it had been some kind of revelation.
With a squeeze of my hand, Carlisle and Jasper wandered to the bar. I caught a glimpse of the sparkle around my neck in the mirror behind the bar and my fingers moved to touch the diamonds.
"Christmas gift?" Bella asked as she walked up.
"No, I don't think so. Just Carlisle," I said, hugging her. "How're you?"
"Happy," she replied, dazed look on her face.
"You know I have to report you if I suspect you're using illegal drugs, right?" I joked.
I'd never actually do that to her, and she knew it.
"I'm not stoned; Edward proposed!"
Of course I knew he was going to. He'd talked to Carlisle about it a few days before, and I was happy for them. I loved Bella and she was a perfect fit for Edward.
"Congratulations!" I said, my grin turning devilish. "Does that mean I get to be your wicked mother-in-law?"
We laughed and made our way to the other side of the bar opposite the men, ordering cosmos and gossiping about the company and school. I'd met Bella in the graduate program I was enrolled in, and had introduced her to Edward at a dinner at our house. She was one of my closest friends.
Two drinks later, the laughter came easier and was louder, but I still felt in control of myself. I knew better than to get stumbling down drunk; all that would do was embarrass me later. There was a time and place, but this wasn't it, not in front of Carlisle's entire company and several family members.
Carlisle must've been feeling the same, his cheeks flushed as he approached.
He extended his hand to me, but looked at the stool next to mine. "Bella, would you please excuse my rudeness as I steal Rose away?"
"Be my guest," she said. "It's time for me to find that son of yours anyway."
"He's down there with Jasper, strategizing. I told them it was a no-work evening, but those two never listen," Carlisle said, shaking his head.
"Wonder where they get it from," I said.
"Hush, you," Carlisle said, leaning closer. "I'm not in the mood to spank you tonight.
"Would you please dance with me?"
One of the things Carlisle did best was straddling the line of dirty versus vulgar. His hands would remain in their perfectly public-appropriate place while he whispered filthy things in my ear, expecting me to remain upright as we moved together on the dance floor.
When we sat down to eat at the large table of executives and significant others, I was grateful for the surface that hid his continued torture. Again, he would never do anything he considered vulgar, but his hands subtly reminded me that I was his, and made me want him more.
I kept counting the minutes, which was insane because I loved these parties. I loved seeing our friends, seeing Carlisle's son and brothers, but my insides practically vibrated with need. He always did this, though. Always made me want him, even if he'd never laid a finger on me. Just a look from him could bring me to my knees — literally and figuratively.
While I was thinking about being on my knees, I could hear Carlisle saying his goodbyes. I smiled and went through the motions, but my thoughts were singularly-focused. Home, finally. Thank god.
In the car, I crossed my legs and took deep breaths, doing my best to not tense my thighs and think about Carlisle between them. We sat on separate ends of the bench seat, I hoped because Carlisle was as close to losing his control as I was. Poor Henry had gotten an eyeful a few times, but we tried to be polite and respectful to the guy who was just doing his job.
"Have a lovely evening, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen," Henry said, holding the door open for us.
"You as well, Henry. Merry Christmas," Carlisle said, handing him a white envelope I hadn't noticed before.
"Thank you, Sir. You too."
With a tip of his hat, Henry got back into the Town Car and drove off, I assumed to the garage.
Carlisle took my hand in his and led me to our bedroom, loosening the bow on his tuxedo on the way. Without a word, I stood at his side, waiting. Knowing.
"Did Bella tell you the good news?" he asked, motioning for me to turn around.
I did as he asked. "That your son finally found his balls and asked her to marry him? Yeah, she did."
Carlisle laughed, his warm fingers finding the top of the dress in the dim light.
"This was an excellent choice. This fabric is amazing on your body, sexy and sensual," he said, sliding the zipper lower. "And you already know how I feel about seeing you in this shade of pink."
It was true; he'd once told me it reminded him of all the best parts of my body — the flush of my skin, the soft pink of my pussy, my heart, my nipples, and the plump pout of my pink mouth. I wanted to empty my closet and replace everything immediately with things only in that shade.
With my dress pooled at my feet, Carlisle turned and lifted the lid of our dresser — or what looked like our dresser — flipping the padded top into its place. He moved the piece of furniture into the center of the room easily since it was empty.
"Climb up," he said. "I'll be right back."
I did as he asked, the chill in the air making me shiver. I didn't dare remove my shoes, careful not to rip the fabric as I climbed onto all fours. The dress hadn't required a bra, and since he'd taken my panties earlier, I was almost naked. Facing the wall, I got comfortable as I waited for him.
He appeared in front of me first, the bulge in his pants right in front of my face, ready for me. The urge to whimper and whine, beg him to let me suck his cock, tickled my mouth. I wouldn't say it, though. He knew. He always knew how much I wanted him.
The bright, shiny gold circled my wrists and closed tightly around them.
The first time Carlisle brought out gold cuffs, I admit it, I laughed. Only someone that rich would buy such a ridiculous product, but when he put them around my skin, kissing reverently and explaining how I deserved only the best jewelry, there was no laughter left.
When my ankles had been bound similarly, I smiled. This was my favorite position to be in. It was one of the places I felt the most like myself, and the most loved.
One of Carlisle's hands ran over the surface of my back, smoothing and sparking the skin back to life with his touch. I wanted to purr when he lightly scratched my back. On my knees with my ass up like a cat, I felt every bit his property.
"That's my good girl," he said softly, appreciating my response to his touch.
His other hand moved over the flesh of my ass, fingers reaching out to slide between my slick lips. His wet thumb dipped between the cheeks, quickly teasing me above where his fingers were. My mouth opened and I moaned a little louder as he continued to move his hand. The tips of his fingers reached to graze my clit, lingering as his thumb pushed, not with intent to invade, just rubbing circles and pressing.
"You look perfect like this," he said. "Back arching into my touch, breasts ready to be played with, mouth open and ready, pussy wet and ready. What are you so ready for, hmm?"
"Oh, you're not nearly ready for my cock, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "You're getting there, though."
His fingers pushed inside me and he began to fuck me slowly with them, stretching me.
"Good girl," he whispered. "Fuck my fingers and come just like that."
I tried to shift my body, spread my legs wider and take more of him, but he wasn't having it. He would slow down or alter his pace in some way each time I tried to get him to go faster and make me come.
"Rosalie, if you can't listen to my directions, I'm just going to stop." His voice was hard and commanding. There was an edge of disappointment, but also a hint of encouragement and hope. "Don't be petulant."
It was hard not to be self-conscious, even as deeply as I loved and trusted him, about my entire body being on display and actively making myself come. It was one thing for him to bring me pleasure like we were — I mean, I was bound and he was in control. If I came, he did it.
It was something we'd been working on, my shame.
I took a deep breath and when he stilled, I began to move my body against his fingers. I heard his deep sigh of happiness, and his following hum of pleasure.
"You are gorgeous," he said. "You look entirely delectable fucking me."
Without warning, he pulled his hand from my body and began sucking on his fingers loudly. Just as quickly, his fingers were back inside, wiggling and waiting for me to move. I didn't hesitate, pushing back against him and feeling him reach for the spots that made me squeak. He might have been soft and delicate to begin, but I moved with intent - hard and fast. His other hand found my clit, teasing and stroking, and my legs shook with effort.
"Ung, please," I begged.
He may have told me to make myself come, but he knew he held the key, always.
His fingers above my clit plucked, pinching lightly, and then moved to repeat the movement at my nipples. Every part of my body felt alive, on edge. Ready.
When the tips of his fingers tapped at my clit, I began to fall apart. The louder I got, the harder he tapped, pressing at the end of each slap, and making me come hard. I was still fucking him and I knew from experience he could feel my muscles squeezing his fingers. His palm was practically glued to my abdomen, though, slapping and stinging, pushing harder and rolling over my clit, then repeating the movement until I was entirely spent.
Our bodies had stopped moving together and my arms fought to keep me upright and in the proper position. I set my forehead on my wrists, breathing and resting for whatever he had planned next. Fabric hit the floor, and I knew he was getting undressed. Even through my exhaustion, my body responded and I felt everything clench with pleasure at the idea of Carlisle naked.
I lifted my head when I heard him moving, and he was in front of me. Lifting my head, I opened my mouth and looked up at him.
"Always my good girl," he said, fingers hooking inside my cheek.
His hand moved beneath my chin, trailing wetness, to support my mouth as the other guided his cock inside my mouth. When I'd taken him all the way in, his hand slid down to my throat, squeezing. He paused, then pulled back out and began to fuck me. The hand not on my throat wove into my hair, pulling and guiding. I thought he was going to come just like that, but he stopped once he was close, hand in my hair easing into petting and touching.
"Perfect," he said. I knew I was his shade of pink, horny and needy again, as he stood back and looked at me for a brief moment.
"Spread your arms."
I did as best I could, not wanting to fall off the table or lose my balance.
When he turned over, then shimmied up the table on his back, I smiled. After more repositioning, his dick was finally in the right spot. I lowered my mouth and kissed his thighs, then lifted my head and wrapped my lips around him. Humming, I licked and bobbed, stroking him as much as I could with limited mobility.
One well-placed tug from his hands forced my legs to collapse, and he exhaled loudly before he began to lick my pussy. Meeting my fervor, he devoured me. I had no idea how he was breathing, but as soon as I regained the ability to think, I went back to sucking him and bringing him to orgasm. My tongue eagerly reached and licked when my lips weren't wrapped around him.
It was intensely difficult to focus on giving him the blowjob I wanted while he was doing such a great job. I struggled, wanting to lift up onto my knees and help provide friction, but his hands wrapped around my thighs and held me to his mouth. No one could eat a pussy like he could, with enthusiasm, noise… with feeling. He truly enjoyed it, and that made it all the more sexy. The obscene noises of his mouth against me pushed me even closer to my orgasm, and I could feel the first tingle begin as his hands tightened; he knew, too.
When my thighs clamped at his ears, his hips bucked and pushed his dick further into my mouth, his own pulsing beginning as soon as mine did. My fingers tugged at his skin, scratching and marking him. His mouth tickled and played, nipping and biting and sliding over my clit endlessly as I came. And came. And came. The squeals of pleasure muffled by his cock no doubt vibrated against his skin, just as his noises stimulated me.
I swallowed around him, almost gagging and choking, but somehow recovering. When his come was gone, I used one of my hands to help take his cock from my mouth, lapping and licking at him still, just as he did for me. It was a slow come down. I tried to get my breathing back to normal as I laved his skin, but before I could, he was moving out from under me.
When my lower-half met the slick surface of the table, I realized how much of a mess we'd made, and a pang of shame shot through me.
"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the bed, watching me.
"The table," I whispered.
"Are you uncomfortable?"
"No," I said. "It's … wet."
He smirked. "I wasn't exactly neat and tidy, was I?"
I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet, my eyes focused on the black surface beneath me. I lifted my hips, resuming my position on my knees.
"Hey," he said. "Look at me." His voice was loving and careful, but firm. I looked up and met his stare. "That's fucking sexy. You aren't allowed to be embarrassed about having a wet pussy, whether its from my mouth or my fingers or both. I'd lick the table to prove my point, but I still need a minute."
I half-smiled, knowing he meant what he said.
A few minutes later, he slid beneath me on the table. "Let go," he said. "Rest your body on mine."
"Rosalie, I said. Let. Go."
"I don't want to crush you."
Tired of arguing, I guess, he pushed his hands out and my arms moved, bringing my upper body onto his, then shifted his feet against my thighs, making me similarly off-balance and resting my entire body on his.
"You're not crushing me, see?" he asked, taking a deep breath and moving me. "Stop thinking I'm so fucking old and fragile. I work out."
I knew he was teasing me, turning it around to make it his issue, when he knew it wasn't anything like that. It helped, though, and I laughed.
"I fucking love it when your whole body is against mine like this."
His hand moved around my hip, then slid deep inside me.
"Mmhm," he said. "Perfect."
His fingers resumed their pace and pressure, filling me and leaving. I squirmed against his body, wanting his cock inside instead of his fingers.
"Fuck me, please."
"Patience. Scoot up."
I moved as best I could, but really, he moved my body as he wanted. His mouth reached to the left, tongue tracing the tip and teasing my nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. I moaned when he slid his teeth over the surface, biting slightly. His fingers never stopped fucking me as he switched sides, lavishing the other nipple and breast with the same attention.
When he pulled his hands from me, he again repositioned my body. His dick slid against my clit, driving me mad. His mouth had moved from my breasts to my mouth with the new position, and he kissed me hard, his lips marking their claim against mine.
I was sure I was going to come if he kept sliding against me, and sure enough, when I felt myself start to let go, panting and begging into his mouth, he shifted his hips and slid inside. I couldn't widen my legs much due to the ankle cuffs, and that was frustrating but also provided a different sensation as he fucked me. There was nothing better than him sliding inside right as my orgasm began, the magic and mystery of however it worked to make my orgasm roll on and on lost on me. He pushed hard, thrusting fast and frequently as I went limp and my head shifted to the side of his head. I couldn't close my mouth, couldn't be quiet.
"Oh god, you make me feel so good, baby," I whispered. "Don't stop, please. Never stop."
His hands pulled against my ass, sliding between the cheeks and pulling my body harder into his, as he started to come.
"Never," he whispered. "I'll never stop fucking you as long as you never stop being such a good girl. My good girl. Fuck, you make me feel so fucking good."
Of course, he did eventually stop. We were both sweating, and I couldn't exactly move, which became slightly hilarious when we tried to adjust ourselves and my cuffs were tangled in his hair. He undid the locks and I stretched a bit, opening my arms and wanting him back with me immediately.
"Mmm, thank you for that," I said quietly when we curled together on the table top.
"Thank you for being so god damned smart and sexy. I was listening to you talking to Bella about classes at the bar, and I wanted to fuck you right there. I love it when you go all nerdy on me."
"Remind me to tell you about the new schoolgirl outfit I ordered," I teased. "The other one was getting a little uh, worse for the wear." I giggled, thinking about the usage it had gotten.
"Oh Jesus. Are you trying to kill me?"
"Nope," I said. "Just love you forever."
"Let's go get cleaned up."
Carlisle helped me off the table and put away the cuffs, pushing the faux dresser back to its normal spot, wood side up. We showered together, taking turns pressing each other against the warm stone walls, making out as the water rained down against us. This time wasn't about orgasms or cuffs or control, or even who was or wasn't a good girl. This time was about Carlisle and Rose.
In his arms, I found comfort. There was softness and strength. He understood me in ways others never would. He supported me and encouraged me. He loved me and allowed me to bloom and grow. He said I did the same for him, and I believed him.