Yes, I'm back with another tale about our favorite couple's year at Dartmouth. If your not familiar with my stories, Bella did not get preggo and has taken up Edward's offer of a year at college.



Part One

Legs underneath our coffee table, I sit slouched on the wood floor of our new living room. Elbow on the corner of the table, my head is propped up by the palm of my hand as I stare blindly at my laptop trying to think of something scholarly to write.

... and its only Monday, I commiserate silently with myself, closing my eyes to stop the burn. I fight to reopen them as my temples throb from a headache, begging me to leave them closed.

I hate admitting it, especially to the beautiful man on the couch behind me, but I am totally wiped out.

Between classes, unpacking and getting acquainted with our new home, Edward and I have been running non-stop. And then there's the annoying jet lag that I can't seem to shake. Who knew that a four hour time difference would mess up my sleep patterns this bad? It wasn't like I had been keeping regular hours before we got here. I probably should just give it up and go to bed, but I am determined to finish my paper tonight. Rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck side and side to put some life in me, I force my lids up and recommit to plowing through the final paragraph of my Colonial History assignment.

The day began this morning when my husband and I went into town to bring home my truck. Having evolved somewhat to accepting gifts graciously, I woke after only a few hours of sleep, curious and slightly excited to see how it turned out and couldn't get back down.

I talked Edward into leaving the Vanquished parked at home and hopped on his back. It started to drizzle on the way, but I could have cared less. Hurtling down our mountain at his usual breakneck speed was exhilarating. It had been a over a week since I enjoyed this thrill ride and I needed my fix. Edward and I hadn't gone running since we arrived in New Hampshire. We haven't had the time.

He sat me down on my feet at the edge of the woods a few hundred yards from a small GM dealership just past the township line.

"I figured this was a good place as any to have the Chevy delivered." Edward explained sheepishly as he held the dealership door open and we went in. Apparently, the paint and bodywork were done elsewhere. I didn't question the man holding my hand, who seems to have more money than sense, as to why it wasn't painted locally. Most likely, I neither require nor desire details. A little damp, but still presentable, we walked nonchalantly past the cars in the showroom to the main office to pick up my keys.

I wasn't really too worried. I trusted Edward. He knew what I wanted, and what I didn't. But still, I was a little anxious, and concentrated on keeping a neutral expression, just in case the big reveal turned into an episode of Pimp my Ride.

I actually shrieked when I saw it. I roll my tired eyes reflecting on the ridiculousness of my reaction. But it does look fabulous. No longer a dented, faded and rusting heap; now my pickup is a shiny, respectable fire engine red. Understated and homey, it is exactly what I hoped for and more. There are new tires and rims too, courtesy of Emmett and Jasper: a late birthday present, or so I was told. Even my dad contributed with a new fiberglass truck box...

Crap, my mind is drifting again.

I rub my eyes and sit up straighter trying to pull it together. It's nearing two a.m. now and clearly I am running out of steam. After we got the truck picked up, we puttered around town the rest of the morning checking out what it had to offer, stopping for lunch in a little mom and pop diner. I should have napped, but between our excursions, getting the kitchen ready to paint tomorrow, and putting the groceries away that we picked up this afternoon, I have barely sat down today. Before I knew it, it was time to head out again.

School is fully in session, bringing this paper to write about the second generation settlers in New England and one of, what my new trig professor announced with glee, would be many quizzes to study for this semester.

Edward is lounging patiently above me on the couch already done. I wrinkled my nose, jealous at the thought of how easy most things are for him. His paper on the founding of Rhode Island was wrote in the ten minutes I took to go to the bathroom and grab an ice cream sandwich from the fridge. When I came back my husband explained that he had already wrote the paper once before. His relaxed shrug and too innocent look makes me dubious... I'm starting to recognize it as a tell... but to make myself feel better, I have chosen to believe him.

"Are you planning on going over your trig notes tonight too, Love?" he asks with obvious concern reaching over and stroking my hair.

"Na, do it tomorrow." comforted by his touch I say with a groggy sigh. "You know Edward, I think today was the first time I've seen that man crack a smile since we got here,"

He understands I'm talking about our trig prof immediately. "Even his thoughts are grouchy," he chuckles.

After one last read through, I send off my concluding supposition that the Puritans were less interested in religious freedom for all, and more about imposing their own beliefs to newcomers, close my laptop and push the coffee table away.

"Finally." I sigh again, laying my head back against his leg on the couch and kneed my temples with the tips of my fingers.

"You look beat." Edward reaches down and lifts me up onto his lap. Yawning, I snuggle into him too tired to pretend I'm not tired.

"Let's just get a quick shower and we'll head to bed." I mumble, before kissing him and stagger unbalanced to my feet.

I list to one side and strong arms immediately come around me. "Do you want me to carry you again?" Unlike last night, his offer is laced with anxiety. My sweet, overprotective husband... some days it irritates me a little, but most of the time it makes me smile.

"No, but thank you." I press my cheek against his shoulder and inhale, the smell of his shirt improves my headache slightly. "If I let you carry me, I won't make it to the bathroom conscious."

Edward peers down in disapproval, shaking his head, but he says nothing. Taking my hand, we head up the stairs to our bedroom loft.

Pulling my shirt over my head, I can still feel his eyes on me. Shucking off my jeans, I glance back toward him. Yes, he's watching me, warily it seems. Caught in the act, his eyes dart away and he reaches to turn on the shower before stripping off his own clothes.

"I'm fine Edward, really." I say as he beats me into the tub. "My sleep patterns are just off." After conking out in the middle of the afternoon Sunday, I couldn't manage to get to sleep last night. It was almost three when Edward threw me over his shoulder and hauled me up the stairs to bed, well after four in the morning before I was tired enough to sleep.

Hmm... sex with my husband, the best cure there is for insomnia, I giggle to myself.

"What's so funny?" Edward asks. Hair already a glorious dripping tangle, he pulls back the curtain and holds out a hand for me to step into the tub.

"Oh, nothing." I shrug and smile innocently at my nosy naked husband, joining him under the warm water.

He frowns with his lip out and I suppress the urge to laugh at him. He looks like a little boy who just missed the ice cream truck. "Are you pouting Mr. Cullen?"

"No." He replies, his bottom lip pulling out further.

"You are so silly." In my goofy sleep deficient state I find it surprising that a pouting husband is kinda hot. I wrap my arms around him yawning again. "One of the many reasons I love you."

"There's more than one?" He asks, lifting my chin with his thumb to look into my eyes.

"Oh yes, a plethora of them."

My adorable husband grins and kisses my forehead, then drops to one knee, body wash in hand.

Adorable... yes, I do gaze down in adoration at the man in front of me soaping my legs. Since we've been married, I can count on one hand the number of times either of us have showered alone.

He looks up from the streaming water, a look of sheer happiness and contentment so radiant I need to hold on to the wall for support. Higher and higher his fingers climb, caressing as he cleans. Stone lips press against my hip bone while strong hands circle my backside. Fingers stroke my back, my sides, then casually make their way to my breasts. As he rises to full height, Edward's nose glides from my belly button to the nape of my neck.

I'm nearly purring from this treatment. He washes me often and from the look on his face while he's at it, I think strangely that maybe he's enjoying it more than I am. Grinning at the impossibility, I lean my forehead against Edward's chest as he's moves on to my hair working shampoo into my scalp. As we step back under the stream his magical fingers massage my neck and shoulders as well. I lift my head and the water rolls down my back, rinsing away the last of the suds. It feels so good, relaxing… too relaxing... and I make a supreme effort not to fall over in the tub.

With heavy limbs, I force myself to reach back and shut off the water. Taking one for himself, Edward wraps a thick fluffy towel around me as I drag myself from the shower. After drying my hair, he kisses my nose and heads to the bedroom so I can finish my nighttime routine.

It's impossible to be too sleepy to not notice his boyish expectant smile when I enter the room to join him. Propped up on pillows, he leans casually against the wrought iron headboard. His hands are behind his head exposing the lean musculature of his fine arms and chest. He looks yummy.

"For someone who never sleeps Mr. Cullen, you seem to be awful eager to hit the sack."

Edward fakes a long drawn out yawn, snickering as I involuntarily follow suit.

"Stop picking on me." I frown grumpily.

"Emmett is four time zones away." He says, his grin widening as he pulls the covers back and pats my side of the mattress. "Somebody has to do it."

I drop the towel I have around me on the nearby chair and scoot in beside him. "Have I mentioned today how happy you make me?"

He pulls me into his arms, and kisses me gently.

"I love you Edward." I yawn once more and close my eyes.

"I love you too. Sweet dreams my love."

Safe in his cool embrace, I am asleep in seconds.


th-thump ... , th-thump ... , th-thump ...

She sleeps.

The leaves on the trees rustle in the breeze along with the beginning sounds of a light patter of rain, a pleasant accompaniment to the quiet even cadence of her beating heart.

We have been in bed for two hours. Skin against skin, she lies scattered over me. It's like being inside a cocoon. I'm beyond relaxed, warm beneath my wife's body, heavy blankets tucked tight around us to hold in her heat.


With my eyes closed, I smile serene, quietly kissing her hairline. In so many ways, this is my sleep time too. The murmured resonance of her voice is my lullaby, the steady rhythm of her pulse hypnotic, almost lulling me from conscious existence. My mind is calm and tranquil, no other significant thoughts in it beyond her spoken dreams. Despite the burn in my throat, I cannot recall ever experiencing this level of restful contentment.

Still, I am keenly aware of our every physical connection. Delicate fingers loll both absently over my upper arm and tightly tuck themselves beneath my torso. Her legs are parted by my thigh, one lines up with my own bathing it in warmth. Knee bent at my hip, its mate just brushes against my manhood.

Her breasts lay pressed crooked against my chest, the velvety nipples flat and supple. My chest rises and falls in time with hers. A soft cheek is on my shoulder. Moist fragrant air gently blows from her ripe lips on to my throat and jaw, swirling about my head. Dark tresses cover part of the hand I rest in the middle of her back. I can count every strand that touches me.

Nose sunk deep in her part, her forehead is set against my lips. It's just too much of a temptation. I need barely to move. I kiss her again.

th-th-thump ... th-thump ... th-thump ...

She sighs quietly and shifts, bringing my mind back into the here and now.

Have I waked her? I tense slightly for a moment listening for an indication.

No, I decide. There seems to be none, just a small up tick in our heartbeat, barely more noticeable than the water beginning to trickle into the roof gutter. I exhale reassured and endeavor to get back to my dreamlike state.

"Edward…" she whispers once more, as her fingers search ephemerally, reaching up to caress my face as she nuzzles my neck, "You smell so good…" She stills, abandoning her hand on my cheekbone and falls silent.

The snake stirs.

Shit. It takes so little to rouse him these days.

Clearly, she is still asleep. My eyes open and I grumble, silently resigned. I know what I need to do. I need to get out of our bed and settle myself down. Perhaps go for a run, or at the very least head downstairs for a while. It's not the first time since I met her that my adolescent urges have nearly gotten the better of me.

My first choice is unappealing. I don't want to leave, I whine to myself like a petulant child. It's cold and it's raining. I don't want to chill myself outside and have to shower again before I can get back in the warm bed with her.

I momentarily contemplate going downstairs. Our unpacking is officially done and I'm positive she'll get mad if I do laundry. We've already got the kitchen prepped for painting, but she wants to be there to help roll the walls tomorrow. Okay, the garage hasn't been sorted out yet, but how much time could that waste? Hell, we didn't take the Vanquish today so it doesn't even need washed.

Of course, my excuses are feeble, but I am a selfish greedy man. I can't help it. There is no place better on earth than laying here beneath her. I want every second I can get. I can behave myself. I just need to show a little restraint.

I kiss her again. All three of us sigh happily.

Perhaps a mental distraction… I frown discouraged. Unfortunately, I neglected to grab a book on my way upstairs. I eye the television's remote control just out of my hand's reach with little enthusiasm. With the entire month's listings already programmed in my head, my brow furrows further knowing there's nothing that interests me on tonight. At least nothing worth removing my hand from her to bother with.

"Can we take it to school?"

It takes but a moment to process her words. The muscles in my stomach rippled as I tried to contain my satisfied delight.

My second favorite bedtime game, I love when I figure out her nocturnal ramblings. This one's easy. I'm certain she's talking about her truck. Often her disjointed phrases make little sense to me, but I know this one. We finally picked up her Chevy this afternoon. I had been a little worried that she would think it was too much, but as usual she surprised me, squealing and jumping up and down like a little girl when she saw it. From her elated reaction, I presumed that it would be the transportation du jour this evening. Normally, I'd much rather drove my car. It handles far better than that thing could ever think of. And the pace…ugh. We had to leave an hour early today for school. But she seemed so pleased to see it. How could I deny her?

I look back on the day, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. I'm not sure, but I think I make her nervous when she drives. My smile widens at the memory of her defiant manner at the wheel as we puttered about in town today. It makes me think of her driving to the big house the night I asked her to marry me.

Yes, many enjoyable memories of this truck flood my mind. Why did I ever think to sabotage it? The last time we drove it, we made love along side it in our front yard at the Washington cottage on a quilt she keeps in the cab. A Nat King Cole medley was on the radio. Was that only a few scant weeks ago?

Darling you… send me…

Yes, honest she does. Everything is perfectly etched in my mind. The smell of her in the warm damp night air that evening… Watching her watching me as she kneels astride me… My hands at her hips… My own body flexing upward to meet hers…

The feel of her muscles contracting against the sides of my body. Lifting and dropping… lifting and dropping…

th-thump... th-thump... th-thump...

A mumbled phrase I can't make out and another caressing shift of her body brings me back. Wincing, my eyes squeeze tight and I shake my head slightly, trying to tamp down my growing need. I really should try to avoid those memories right now.

Why did I have to hunt last night? I grumble internally.

Same reason, I remind myself sardonic. Last night it didn't matter that we had made love until she pretty much passed out. I wanted to do it again... and maybe again. Desire for her constantly makes me restless and... something else I can't explain. Perhaps... achy... itchy? I don't know. I feel compelled to touch her all the time... my hand at the small of her back as we walk into the house, my knee brushing against hers under the kitchen table. I catch myself fidgeting when's she out of arms reach, desperate to release some energy. Vampires don't fidget. It's hard for me to wrap my head around this new and strange physical feeling I both love and hate. I find it confusing. It's as if she's unleashed some perpetually horny teenager I never knew existed.

Doesn't matter. She needs to sleep. It's the only thing we really argue about… well, that and the eating.

I just don't get it. Humans need to eat. From what I've heard, most of them take great pleasure in the act. Hell, there are entire television networks devoted to making of the stuff. She appears not to care at all about the ingredients and even less so regarding its nutritional value. Her previous culinary efforts must have been for the benefit of her father alone. I'm sure that if I didn't cook for her, she would live on peanut butter and jelly, Fruit Loops and Chef Boyardee. I'm well aware she has no regard for herself, but still...

It's just like the sleep. It makes me crazy. Not wanting to nag, I try not to say anything, I really do. But I so often fail. I can see how exhausted she is. Why does she feel this incessant need to keep up with me?

She snorts then exhales with slightly more force, as if admonishing me for my worry. Her soft tender hand slides down to my shoulder in a caress. A new wave of pleasure sweeps through me and I swallow, tasting her smell. The muscles in my stomach this time tighten with desire as the snake is thickens. Yes, I should go, leave her in peace.

A gust of wind whistles through the trees, pushing the the now persistent rain against the bedroom window.

"Please..." she murmurs.

Please? My body freezes.

"Feel me…" She breathes.

Damn it. My teeth clench together. No, you need to sleep…You get so little.

Slaves to her voice and replying to its command, the tips of my fingers, on their own volition, lightly begin to stroke her lower back happy to do her bidding.

"Yes…" she murmurs "right there..." My mutinous fingers glide lower to her bottom pressing her into me as they gently contract. A soft sexy moan is my reward.

th-thump, th-thump, th th-thump

I just can't help myself. Both body and voice continue to encourage my rouge hand in unconsciousness, back arching as her hips pitch forward. The rhythm of the heart that I claim as my own continues its slow steady climb.

The snake tents the blankets, hungry and eager. He knew what was happening before I did.

She's dreaming of... us.

As if to reward him for his deductive skills, her knee rises higher, rubbing his head… petting him for a moment before relaxing and stilling once more. Her movement slides the covers off our shoulders.

My prayer that this is the extent of her torture lasts but a scant few seconds.

"Edward... oh, its so good..." she sighs, her voice grateful yet still rings of need. Body shifting restlessly above me, any hope for reprieve vanishes.

As I take what I pray is a deep cleansing breath, the aroma of her scent begins to change. A slight sweetening of its already perfect bouquet fills my nostrils and scorches my lungs. I lick my lips. It makes my mouth water, not for her blood, but for sweat of her body and the nectar between her legs.

The temperature under the blankets warms as her fingers on her left hand explore my bicep. Like the growing storm outside, I am now neither calm nor tranquil. Disjointed phrases of direction, encouragement and pleasure continue to escape her lips, bit by bit draining my resolve. She's not a talker when we make love. Frankly neither of us are.

But apparently in her dreams...

The rain is heavy now, and I stare blindly at it pounding on the skylight above our bed. The heat rises and rises and I feel the dampness of her body against my own hard skin. Off to the east a large branch snaps and spills to the ground.

Dear God, she is beginning to perspire extensively. I try my best to modulate my breathing.

th-thump th-thump th-thump

Her body shifts again and the hastening tempo of our heart, louder, faster, stronger feeds my straining erection. The hand at my side pulls free pushing the blankets lower. Her fingers are in full motion now, meandering about greedily over the exposed side of my torso.

"Oh... oh..." Her pelvis rocks, ruthlessly taunting the snake.

How can she still be asleep?

I'm growing wild and fearful with desire. Our heart beats vigorously now into my chest. Struggling to maintain some kind of control of myself, I am all but panting with the effort. I'm stunned to find my legs are trembling slightly. How is this happening? I didn't think that was possible.

Stay calm, I tell myself. Stay calm. Go to your happy place.

"Edward... take me..."

Damn it, this is my happy place!

She grows slick with the sweat that my tongue yearns so desperately to taste. I'm losing my ability to concentrate. I need to stop this. Chivalry be damned, I could hurt her so easily in an unchecked moment.


In just seconds, the smell of her arousal has grow exponentially, and my erection is painful and at full mast. I can't think straight under this onslaught. The blankets have been wrestled down past her heart shaped bottom. Her right hand slides back up my arm and into my hair. I try to take it and she pulls my thumb into her mouth.

Sweet Jesus!

thump, thump, thump, thump

"God, I need you in me..."

Sucking on my thumb, she ungulates against me. Pulsating and pooling blood swells her loins. Her torturous efforts rub her juices into my hipbone as the driving rhythm of her heart and the storm pounds in my ears.

The fingers of her left hand travel lower and lower.

"Please Edward, please..."

No, no, no...

"Fuck me..." she calls out still searching.

Did she just say? My mind must be unraveling.

"For Christ's sake, NOW!" She demands as she reaches her goal.


Feel free to review then on to chapter two.