Contest entry for the Dirty Talkin' Edward Contest
Title: Channel Five
Pairing: Edward and Bella
Summary: A private plane. A velvet voice. A seduction miles above ground.
Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Rose, that is not a private plane. That is a full size jet." I stare open mouthed at the looming machine in front of me on the tarmac. A man in formal attire takes our bags from us and beckons us to walk ahead of him.
"Trust me, it's privately owned." Rose pulls my arm and we head up the blue carpet runner covering the asphalt, towards the air stairs leading directly to the entryway.
I'm not too proud to say I'm anxious as fuck. I touch the beautiful navy attendant's suit, much nicer than anything I've worn for any airline I've worked for while waiting for my English degree to pay off. I smooth my hair back and fix my collar, determined to succeed on this job regardless of the fact that it's not my first choice of occupation.
"Don't be nervous, and Bella, this is high class all the way. It's like nothing you've ever imagined a private plane could be."
I nod and calm myself. When my cousin Emmett told me his fiancé was in need of a second attendant for a privately owned company, taking this perfectly timed opportunity to pay off my student loans was a no brainer. This first flight, approximately thirteen hours from New York to Tokyo, would take care of almost a third all by itself.
Upon getting the gig, I asked her the name of the owner, and was a little surprised I'd never heard of him. Being well read and fairly intelligent, I figured I knew all of the heavy hitting, Fortune 500 folks.
Of course I got right on Google. I found a paragraph or two where he's mentioned with some global economy details, but not a picture to be found. There was a gamer from Ohio with the same name that seems to be the reigning Halo champ, but I highly doubt the guy wearing the "Bad Mother Trekker" t-shirt with the acute acne is the formidable Edward Cullen, aka monster private jet owner. Unless the global economy details I'd found were actually referring to some larping type gaming empire he'd amassed.
We ascend the steps and are greeted by two men in pilots' uniforms when we reach the top. Rose introduces me to Gary and Frank, and they leave us to begin prepping for takeoff. I follow her, assuming we're headed towards the galley, when the sound of hardwood under my heels surprises me. I look down to see exactly that, dark in color and shiny as hell, on a PLANE. I shake my head at the extravagance and anticipate what else this plane has to offer.
We follow the pilots up the small hallway, and the sight I'm met with is much more familiar. A cockpit doorway, standard safety signs, and some general equipment. Rose takes a right and I follow, finding myself in what could be equated to a full size kitchen. "Motherfucker." I say, as I turn my head around in disbelief at the opulence I'm about to work in.
"Bella!" Rose hisses. "I told you-"
"Yes, I know, sorry." I interrupt. "High class. Got it." I smile and give a thumbs up and take a look around the 'galley'.
Granite countertops line the formidable space and I shake my head. Someone could cook an entire meal in here. Like, a real one. With food. No metal cart with the standard bags of nuts in sight. The lighting is soft from the delicate fixtures that hang overhead, casting a warm glow that is in complete opposition to the commercial airplane fluorescents I'd become accustomed to.
Rose moves around me and shuts the door behind us. "Unless we need to access the cockpit, we use that door," she gestures towards the other side of the kitchen. "to enter the main cabin and access the other rooms."
"Yes. Bella, you don't expect a man with a private jet this size to have rows of seats in a single cabin, did you?"
My left eyebrow arches at her disparaging tone, but I let it go. "I really had no idea what to expect." But I guess I was kind of thinking that before I saw the actual size of the aircraft. I assumed it would be nicer than a regular plane, with leather seats and shit. But rooms? As in plural?
"Rose, are you sure I'm right for this? I'm used to serving bad bloody mary mix from a can to men that pinch my ass."
"Well you certainly won't have to worry about the pinching here." She gives me a concerned look, and I notice she didn't repeat ass. Oops.
I try to make her crack a smile. "Trust me, the old men in first class are the worst. I bet Mr. Cullen's a pincher." I wiggle my eyebrows at her and it works.
Rose laughs. "Mr. Cullen is only thirty-four. He's certainly no old man."
"Oh." I had just assumed. "What does he look like?"
"I don't really remember." She rifles through an overhead cabinet, securing stemware in their holders to ensure they don't move during takeoff.
"I've seen him from a distance once, but never met him. This will be my first time as his lead attendant. I always worked under Tanya. Now, you work under me." She says smirking, enjoying the idea of being someone's boss. "You will interact with the other passengers on the plane when they are on their own, but I'll be the only one serving Mr. Cullen."
"He seems awfully reclusive." I whisper, making sure no one hears me. I sure as hell don't want off this plane prematurely.
"From what I know, he's old money. Extremely old money. The kind that doesn't need to flaunt their wealth in newspapers or People magazine. He's built that immense fortune into the financial empire 'EAC', but he's quite the philanthropist and prefers to remain anonymous. Think…Howard Hughes."
"Howard Hughes was a nutjob."
"Well let's hope Mr. Cullen hasn't let his hair or fingernails grow longer than they should have." My eyes widen as I think of dank basements and Halo players. Maybe that picture was legit.
She directs me towards a checklist that we go through; making sure everything that should be on board is present and accounted for. Pricey champagne, exclusive wine, the finest cheese. There are even Wagyu steaks of the Kobe variety; something Rose explains is probably the priciest thing in the kitchen.
"Come on, we have twenty minutes until Mr. Cullen and his team arrive. I'll show you where you'll mainly be stationed."
We exit the kitchen through the correct door and walk on plush, beige carpet down a hallway towards a large, open seating area.
"This is the lounge, you'll be attending to anyone here." Rose's arm waves through the space like a game show hostess and I make a mental note to act with similar grace. I take in the room, containing two cream-colored couches, with dark wood accents, flanked by suede armchairs; all facing a large flat screen TV. There's warm, discreet recessed lighting on the ceiling, making it cozy and intimate. A large 'EAC' is inlaid into the center of the carpet, a subtle shade darker than the surrounding floor. "The room in the corner is an office for his guests to use." I look towards the back of the lounge and notice an additional room.
She quickly takes me through the rest of the plane, the walls dotted with what looks like priceless artwork, the same carpeting as the lounge, and the same cozy lighting. We pass a dining room for fourteen, three restrooms for guests to use, and Rose waves towards the back of the plane where she tells me a guest bedroom and Mr. Cullen's off-limits, private bedroom are located.
My head is spinning, thinking about the fact that this is all on a PLANE, when Rose stops outside a large conference room and turns to me before I even get a chance to look in. "If the door is closed, you do not enter. This is where Mr. Cullen works." I peek quickly, and it seems typical enough. There are multiple monitors on one wall, most likely to be tuned to financial news networks or used for video conferencing. Or video games. The thought making me giggle.
"Got it." I give her another thumbs up and she rolls her eyes at me. Right. Grace and style. We begin our return towards the front of the plane, and hear an announcement from the captain that Mr. Cullen's car is approaching the airport with an ETA of approximately ten minutes.
"Oh! One last thing." Rose hurries to a closet across from the kitchen and grabs two pairs of what look secret service earpieces. "This is how you and I communicate. I communicate with Mr. Cullen, you, and the pilots. You communicate only with me. Keep yours on channel two." I take the small device and she shows me how to tuck it into my left ear behind my loose hair. Now I know why I wasn't required to wear my hair up in a stupid bun. She instructs me to take my arm out of my jacket and she drapes the wire down my back, pulling it through my left sleeve and pinning it to my cuff. She points out a small square of buttons. "Press the green to talk to me, and here is the volume. When you hear a beep, that's me paging you. Right here, on the side, is the channel switch." I watch as she sets it to channel two. "When you need to talk, you just raise your wrist up and speak softly."
This is all sorts of ridiculous and cool at the same time.
Rose introduces me to the chef that has just arrived, and he double-checks that whatever he requested for the menu is accounted for. We kind of just stand there while he looks through the refrigerator and cabinets; until he's satisfied everything is on board.
Rose excuses herself to go greet the passengers, leaving me to take care of any final preparations. I can hear some commotion through the pocket door separating us from the entryway, which fades as Cullen's people get settled. Rose returns soon after, and right away, the pilot makes the announcement that we're to prepare for takeoff. We strap ourselves into our jump seats that pull out of the cupboards, and the roar of the engine increases. There's very little vibration on a jet this big, but taking off feels the same as any other. The adrenaline that starts up in my body at the feel of speeding down the runway is still there, and when the nose lifts and we're in the air for a good thirty seconds, I let out the breath I always hold.
We sit still until the pilot makes the announcement that we are well on our way and able to move about the cabin. Rose runs her hands down her hair and skirt, visibly nervous to be making her debut.
"Knock him dead!" I go to high five her and she ignores me, instead turning on her heel and walking out the side door. I smile over at the chef, who also ignores me, and make my way out to the lounge.
I find six people sitting in the area and introduce myself, asking if anyone would like any sort of beverage. An older man with dark hair smiles and orders a bloody mary and I make a mental note to watch out for him. An elegant, redheaded woman in a black business suit sitting next to him asks for a white wine and a sorta cute blond guy asks for a whiskey. The only person to offer a kind smile and word of thanks is the old bloody mary guy, of course.
I turn to the two large men, unmistakably security, who request water, and a little woman with short black hair and pinched face who just waves me away because she's on the phone.
I deliver the drinks sans any ass pinching, and declare the beginning of this trip a success.
Rose comes back into the kitchen a short while later, with a blank look on her face, so I can't tell if her first encounter with Mr. Cullen went well or not. I ask her what he was like as she begins making tea. From scratch. With real tea leaves, the kind not contained in bags.
"He was very professional." I wait, watching her place the leaves into a kettle, pouring hot water over the mixture and covering it all with the top. Clearly, she needs prodding.
She pulls down an expensive china cup and saucer, and a second kettle, this one much fancier than the first, engraved with the initials EAC. Aaron? Andrew? Alfred? She looks over to the chef, who seems to not be paying any attention to us, and drops her voice to a bare whisper. "He was kind of cold. I wasn't expecting a hug but he was very brusque. He made it very clear I should know exactly how he liked everything without instruction." She gestures towards the tea as an example. "Good thing Tanya trained me well."
"So? What does he look like? Is he deformed? Bald? Does he have severe acne or something?" I wonder, thinking of why he's never been photographed.
Rose pours the tea from the plain kettle into the fancy one, catching the leaves in a little strainer. "Quite the opposite, actually."
"Oh yeah? He's not hideous?"
She finally looks at me. "He's pretty good looking." She turns back and places the now full kettle and cup with accouterments on a silver tray.
"Oooh, Are you going to flirt?" I try to joke with her, knowing she's happily engaged to Emmett.
"Bella, seriously, he's our boss." She chastises.
"Fuck, I'd love to catch a glimpse of him. He seems so mysterious. It's kinda sexy." I slap my hand over my mouth before she has the chance to do it for me.
"Thank God you're not going to be anywhere near him." She sighs as she sashays out of the kitchen carrying her tray.
I look over to the chef, who may be wearing a hint of a smirk, and wonder if I'd found a kindred spirit. "Do you deal with him often, Cheffie?"
"It's Chef. And no, there's no need." He turns his back to me and begins to rifle through a spice rack.
"Sorry." I say, snickering internally at his curt response. I try to lighten the air. "I'll have you warmed up to me in no time!" Nothing. Alrighty then. I turn back around to start plating cheese to serve my passengers, and hear a beep in my ear. I quickly fumble for my cuff and press the red button, hearing Rose speak through the earpiece.
"If you're otherwise unoccupied can you please prepare a separate plate of cheese to be ready for me to serve Mr. Cullen?"
Otherwise unoccupied? She must be standing right next to him. I press the green button and speak softly as instructed. "Yes, ma'am." I hope she appreciated that. I put together her request first, using the specified gray cheese slates and lay it all out as Rose showed me during our crash course a week ago.
I move to my own tray, and just as I'm about to carry it out, Rose comes in and grabs the one I made for her. "Perfect." She hurries out, and even I can tell that she's a bit flustered. He must be a real prick if her usually polished nature is becoming slightly unraveled.
Things are going well. I've served the older man a few bloody mary's now and still no pinching. The security team has relaxed somewhat, sitting and watching SportsCenter, but the little brunette has yet to say more to me than "champagne" with her puckered mouth. She hasn't even looked up, typing away on her phone and laptop simultaneously. I wonder why, if she's so important, she's not in the conference room with Mr. Cullen.
I return to the kitchen where Rose is making a second pot of tea. I take the opportunity to ask her. "So does he work in there alone? Cause that uptight lady in the lounge seems to be busy and in need of space-"
Rose cuts me off. "That uptight lady is Alice, his business partner and right hand, so watch what you say. Most of the time he prefers to have the conference room to himself."
"Oh." I pause. "She just seems very hard at work out there." And I wouldn't mind her vacating my area.
"Don't concern yourself with their business, Bella, just start helping Chef with the dinner plating." Is all she says, before she leaves with the second pot.
"I was just curious." I say to Chef, who ignores me again. What is it with these people? I envision some horrid man barking orders at his staff, scaring them and taking all the fun out of a room.
We plate an extraordinary meal on white, 'EAC' plates, and settle them on a fancy serving cart. I'm hoping for a glimpse of the ogre, but if Rose barely saw him in the year she's worked on the plane, I assume he'll be eating in the conference room and away from the prying eyes of new staff, like me.
I find I'm correct in my assumptions, and I serve the people in my cabin, minus the blond guy, who have all moved from the lounge into the dining room. Rose takes two covered plates off the tray and exits. I guess EAC has the blond guy for company.
I close the door to the dining room at Pinched-face's request, giving her the finger through it when I'm done, and push the cart back down the hall. It's giving me trouble on the carpet, something Rose seemed to have no issue with. The wheels refuse to turn the way I want them to, so I pull it back and push forward again. I try to push off to the side and forward, but something seems to be jammed.
I move around to try to pull it instead, and I must use too much force because all of a sudden, the cart jerks towards me and topples over onto its side, pinning my arm under it as the chaos of lids goes crashing down to the floor.
"Son of a bitch! Motherfucker!" I try to pull my snagged arm free of the cart so I can use both hands to right it, but it's heavy and seems to be caught on my cuff.
"Goddammit." I pull again and jerk my sleeve free, sending me back into the wall with a thud. "Fucking hell."
"Pardon?" The baritone voice in my left ear, I'm pretty sure, does not belong to Rose.
I look down quickly and see the channel on my little black thingy has turned to five. The overturned cart must've pressed that button and the talk button at the same time. Is it Bloody Mary? A pilot? A security dude? Blond Guy?
I panic and scramble to answer. "I apologize, sir. The cart overturned on the carpet and apparently pinned my sleeve and the talk thingy." I cringe, wishing I had a better word for the mechanism on my wrist. Mechanism would've worked. Damn. Thank you, unused English degree.
"The talk thingy. Yes. Well, are you alright?" The voice in my ear asks, and I'm slightly touched that one of the jerks on the plane actually cares. I think this especially as I see Rose appear, her face red in astonishment as she's noticing the overturned tray and me lying against the wall. She starts bounding towards me.
"Quite. Um, I'll get off this channel now. Again, I apologize." To whom, I'm not sure.
"What happened?" Rose bends down to start righting the cart and I get off the floor to help.
"The stupid thing caught on the carpet and when I tried to pull it, well, you see what happened."
"Thank heavens there was no food on it. That would've been a terrible mess to deal with."
"I'm fine, thanks." I say, slightly miffed at her lack of concern for my safety.
"It was a cart, Bella, not a car."
Bitch. "I think this plane is a fun-sucker. What happens to you people when you board?" I shake my head and gather the plate covers that have littered the floor.
"A fun sucker? Is that a thing?" The manly voice in my ear asks. Shit. I forgot to turn the channel and the talk button must be stuck. Unsure of what to do, because I don't want Rose to become aware of the real faux pas going on here, I pull the cuff up to eye level like I'm straightening it.
"I'm sorry, I think the altitude is making me giddy."
"Me too. Maybe you should go get some water." Rose answers, thinking I was talking to her.
"I think bumping that brunette head of yours is what made you giddy."
Hold up. Ear Dude just called me a brunette. Which means he's seen me. Rules out EAC. There is a God.
"Yes." I answer generically to Rose and Ear Dude, continuing to help clean up the area. We manage to get the cart wrestled back to the kitchen, and I quickly turn my thingy to channel two.
We start getting the dessert course ready, and I open a bottle of port, lining up the corresponding glasses, to be served later. I rule out the security men as being Ear Dude, as they haven't really noticed me at all, and I highly doubt they're on the same voice equipment as the plane staff. I didn't notice an earpiece on Bloody, so that leaves one of the pilots or Blond Guy, who I didn't get a very good look at. I suppose he could possibly be wearing one if he's with EAC. I hope whoever it is doesn't rat me out.
Double-checking my thingy cause now I'm paranoid, I take the chance and ask Rose about the other channels, hoping to figure out who might be on channel five. She, of course, tells me it doesn't matter and that I should stick to my own channel and not worry about the rest. Aaaand the fun-sucking continues.
I look over to where Rose is standing. Right next to me. "Did you just hit the button by accident?" I ask.
"No, why?" She blows over the rim of her coffee cup, and turns to me.
"Oh. I thought I just heard it go off." No. I know I just heard it go off.
Channel five is live.
"I'm going to use the restroom, I'll be right back." I have no idea if I'm in trouble, or with whom for that matter, but I don't think Rose should be alerted to the fact that I'm about to be on the wrong frequency for the second time.
I slide the "occupied" bolt into place, switch to channel five, and say, "Yes?"
"I'm just checking up on you. See how that head of yours is feeling." The voice in my ear is smooth, masculine, and I try to match it to one of the pilots. The voice isn't similar to the two men I met, as one could be my grandfather and the other obviously would prefer the chef over me, so I'm guessing this is Blond Guy.
"I'm fine, sir. Thank you for asking. Um…can I ask who this is?"
"You could." That's it.
Cheeky, patronizing bastard. "OK, who is this?"
"Just someone concerned for the welfare of the crew."
I snort. "So there is a human being on here somewhere. I figured all kindness left the plane with the fun-sucking." I cringe, cursing my lack of filter.
"Yes, the fun-sucking. I remember. Did you just snort?" He chuckles, and I like the sound.
"Well, I mean, everyone is very serious around here." I pause, and hear him make a 'hmm' sound. "I do have to thank you for not ratting me out for my overly profane moment earlier. I know that language is frowned upon here."
I feel my brow lift in question. "Isn't it?"
"Oh, I don't know." He begins, his voice low and warm like syrup in my ear. "A good 'motherfucker' now and then is never a bad thing."
My stomach flips. Hearing the word 'fuck' from this unknown but deeply sensual voice is strangely erotic.
I'm torn. I want to reply. I really do. The snarky bitch inside me is clawing at my insides, and yet I also want to keep this job.
And 3..2..1.."Yes, well, a good 'fuck' is also never a bad thing." Shit, I went there.
Cripes. I'm fired. I'm about to tell him I meant the word and not the action when it comes, smooth and slow in my ear.
"A good fuck is never a bad thing, indeed."
My knees. They are wobbly.
That's when he goes in for the kill. "But a great fuck is even better."
Total collapse. I'm a useless heap on the floor in an airplane bathroom, and no one will ever find me cause I just died. Of embarrassment or lust, I'm not sure, but I answer automatically without thinking. "Fuck, yeah."
I hear a scraping in my ear and the voice returns. "I have a call to make. Thank you for your time." And the voice leaves, breaking the connection and bringing me back to reality.
Shit. What did I just do?
My stomach jumps, and my head distractedly turns towards Bloody, answering his statement that they'll be moving back to the lounge for dessert with a nod as I back out of the dining room and check channel two.
"Yes, Rose?" Is it wrong I'm half hoping for silence on this channel?
"Bella, could you please prepare a bottle of Perrier for me? Two glasses."
Guess hoping wasn't enough, and I sigh in disappointment.
"Yes, right away." I gather the required bottle and glasses, and place them by a bowl of lemon wedges that I've arranged nicely on the tray.
Her voice dictates another command. "The pilots are requesting coffee."
"Do you think you can manage to bring the cart down to clear dinner without a catastrophe?"
"Probably not." I quip.
Dessert is served, the night beginning to descend around us, and everyone seems full and lazy except for Pinched-face, who is walking up and down the hall, typing frantically on her phone. Girl needs a Xanax. Or three. Rose is on the other side of the kitchen, eating the meal Cheffie kindly prepared for us. I was able to eat before her, so I wander down the hall, peeking in on the empty dining room, meandering past the conference room and standing in the foyer of the bedroom area.
I look down the hall and see the conference room door closed, and no one watching. I hope Rose is still eating. I probably have a second alone. Just a peek.
I open the guest bedroom door, wanting to see what a bedroom on a plane looks like. It's a moderate sized room, with a bed, end table, and dresser. Standard, except for it being on a PLANE, which I'm still repeating in shouty capitals in my head. I see a photograph framed on the wall and look at it, recognizing Bloody, Blondie and Alice, along with three others at what appears to be some sort of awards benefit deal. Two of the people I don't recognize are an older man and woman, and next to them is a younger guy who resembles the older man, but with darker, bronze colored hair. He's undeniably attractive.
Unlike the rest who seem happy and excited about whatever award he's holding, the good-looking, younger man is frowning, his eyes dark and brooding as he stands stiffly and overly formal. The demeanor certainly fits the overall vibe on this plane, and I think I've just laid eyes upon EAC. I'm having trouble looking away from this picture, as his face and intense gaze are drawing me in, making my visit to the guest bedroom longer than I'd intended.
Shit. Maybe Rose saw me heading towards the bedrooms. Is wandering not allowed? Probably not. She didn't actually say I couldn't go in here, she just said not to enter EAC's bedroom. Which now that it's crossed my mind, I have a strong desire to do.
"Yes, Rose?" Nothing. I look at the little device a moment, and grow even more nervous, remembering the last words spoken between this mystery voice and me. I watch as my finger slowly scrolls…to channel five.
"Yes?" I answer, nervously.
"Are you bored, Ms. Swan?" Ear Dude. He's back.
"Um, no?" Not sure how the question relates to anything, so I say nothing else, my sense of self-preservation strong.
"Do you require a nap?"
I freeze. I feel my neck tingle and my arm hair stands on end. I'm being watched.
Unable to find my voice through my escalating panic, my nervous breaths fill the space where my response should be.
"Since you're standing in my guest room, steps away from my things, I'll ask again. Are you bored or do you require a nap?
"The language on you, Ms. Swan, tsk tsk." His teasing tone resonates through me, as I process the fact that I'm being watched. Not only watched, but watched by my employer, who apparently is the very same man that has intrigued me with his voice and words.
And apparently, my verbal filter has failed me again. "I said that out loud?"
"Yes, you did." His chuckled response doesn't make me feel any less anxious.
"Um, I apologize again, sir." My head is pounding; the realization this sexy voice belonged to EAC, my boss, all along is frightening. But the rest of my body is exhilarated by the fact that it's quite possibly the man from the picture, a man a million times hotter than the gamer from Ohio.
I look up at the walls, trying to find hidden spy equipment. Not that I'd know what I was looking for, but being watched like this makes me nervous.
"You seem on edge, Ms. Swan."
I swallow. "I'm not sure I like the idea of being observed without my permission."
"It's my plane." He states, simply.
"Well, yes. It is. But it's me you're watching. I think I have the right to feel violated."
"Violated, interesting word." There's that smooth syrup again, and he doesn't sound chastised at all. Something about his unapologetic confidence makes me excited.
"I'd call it fitting." I have to end this if I don't want to fly home from Tokyo coach. "Do you need something, sir? Was Rose not answering? I'll go get her for you."
"No, I don't need anything."
"But Alice might, you know, the one you gave the finger to earlier." I hear humor in his voice and I smile.
"Quite. But don't worry, I often feel like doing the same thing."
I laugh, and try to picture the man in the photo smirking perhaps, as he spoke that last bit. "Is this you, sir? On the end with this group of people?" I point at the wall, knowing he can see that I'm indicating the picture that captivated me earlier.
"Good to know." Very good to know. "Why do you look so angry?"
"I hate those types of events."
He snickers at my exclamation. "Go ahead, respond." He pauses, his voice turning into one of a sweet threat that gives me goose bumps. "I'll find you later."
My breath stutters at his bold promise as I quickly switch over to channel two. "Yes, Rose?"
"Bella, where are you? Why do you sound so flustered?"
"Uh, just making sure the dining room is tidy." I quickly move back up the hallway towards the kitchen.
"Well, get back here."
I pass the closed conference room door and reply. "Coming." I hear Rose disconnect.
I startle, and quickly scroll back to five.
"Another good word, I think." He says, before disconnecting again.
It ain't Rose.
"Yes?" I say eagerly into channel five, looking around the lounge. Bloody is passed out, the security team is watching a Yankee game on ESPN, Blondie and Business Lady are in the small office, and Alice is looking through folders at one of the tables. No one needs me.
"Are you busy?"
"You would know."
"I was about to do some jumping jacks, if you want to watch me doing that."
"I'm sure that's a pleasure to watch."
His humor is making me brave. "So, may I ask a question?"
"You just sit in that conference room and watch everyone on the plane? Shouldn't you be working or something? Making money to pay what I'm sure is your plane's exorbitant costs?"
He chuckles. "I do other things."
I laugh out loud, remembering the acne-clad Edward Cullen in Ohio I found online.
"That's amusing to you?"
"You must've Googled yourself, sir, at some point." I hear tapping on a keyboard and a chuckle.
"So I'm hoping you never thought that boy was me."
"Hmmm. I'm starting to wonder now about the picture in the guest room. Maybe that nerdy guy living in his mom's basement really is you."
"I assure you. I don't live in my mother's basement."
"Good to know."
"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I say, feeling giddy in my stomach as I fiddle with the channel dial.
"So what is it that you like to do for fun, Ms. Swan, if Halo isn't your thing?"
"All sorts of things. I once took high wire lessons."
"Like in a circus?" He laughs.
"Sure! How do you think flight attendants have such great balance in turbulence?" I joke.
"Well, then I'd get your money back, if earlier is any indication."
"Ouch." I smile, assuming he's watching.
"Yes, Mr. Cullen?"
"I jumped out of a plane once, that was fun."
"Oh really." I pause what I'm doing, thrilled that he seems to be opening up to me.
"Sure. I've even taken flying lessons."
"So you could fly this, if we were to have trouble with the pilots?"
"Fuck no, we'd all have to bail. Alice gets thrown out first, to see if the parachutes work." He laughs out loud.
"I would volunteer your chef too. He seems like a fun-sucker as well."
"But then who would cook for us on the remote island we find ourselves on?"
"I'd save all the cheese first."
"Yes, Mr. Cullen?"
"What is your fondest Christmas memory?"
I wonder if he's Googling 'random questions' to find things to discuss with me. This has been going on for about an hour, quick conversations while he sees I'm alone.
"The year my brother in law gave my grandma a gift intended for my sister. It was a strap on with a green dildo." My eyes widen at the realization of what I've just said. He's made me too comfortable with him. I'm still his employee and I've done it again.
Silence. Just when I'm about to disconnect and hide, I hear huge, booming guffaws coming from my ear and the conference room simultaneously. "Damn."
"Yup." I say, relieved.
"Why green?" He questions.
"Um, well, you see, my sister has a bit of an alien abduction fetish."
"I guess that would explain it." He agrees.
"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I wander down the hallway, knowing he's watching, and lean against the wall opposite the conference room door.
"Are you loitering, Ms. Swan? Don't you see the door is closed?"
I look up and smile, not sure where the camera is but pretty positive he can see my face. "Why don't you open the door?"
His voice is velvet, deeper as the night has progressed. It's like honey in my ear. "This is more fun. Remember, no more fun-sucking."
It happens before I realize it.
I moan a little, and he catches it. "Sucking, Ms. Swan? Does that word affect you?"
"Apparently." I answer, strangely not as embarrassed as I should be at this admission.
I hear him take in a breath, pause a moment, and exhale. "Is that something you enjoy?"
"Depends on what I'm sucking, sir." I feel like a slutty schoolgirl. All I need is the short plaid skirt and braids.
"I'd like to hear Sir purring from your lips again."
I quiver, the realization that he seems to be as affected as I am makes my skin tingle.
"And I'd really like to watch you suck…something." He sighs, almost in resignation.
Knowing that little hesitation is evidence that he was balancing on the edge, and decided to fall over, I tease. "A straw, maybe?"
"Anything. I bet that dirty mouth on you can pucker up and suck something very, very well."
I lick my lips. "It can."
There's silence on the other end, and I grin at the possibility that I just threw his over-confidence out the window for a moment.
His voice is deep, suggestive, in its retort. "I bet it's nothing compared to what my mouth could do." I close my eyes at his words, and he hums into my ear. "Did you like that?"
"I think you know I did."
"Ms. Swan, you are quite the temptress. You do realize your hand is moving across your shirt in a very provocative way, don't you?"
I look down and realize what he's saying is true. The wrist with the thingy has slithered down my throat, dangerously close to slipping inside my blouse. I pause, but I don't remove it.
"Go ahead, Ms. Swan. No one is near you. It's nice and quiet; nothing is required of you right now from the others." His voice drops to a whisper. "Let's have some fun. Do what I want you to do."
"And what would that be, sir?" I hear a growl, confirming he's enjoying me calling him 'sir'. Egotistical bastard.
"Dip your hand in. I bet you're wearing lace. You're a lace girl, aren't you?"
"I want you to describe your bra to me, Ms. Swan, while you feel it for yourself."
I move my hand, the fingers slipping under the silky fabric and ghosting over the top of my breast, the part that isn't covered by my demi-cup.
"You're having to go pretty far in to feel it, Ms. Swan. I bet it's a tiny little thing, barely containing you, am I right?"
"It's low-cut, yes." I continue to move my hand until I touch fabric. "It's white, and soft, barely covering-."
"Barely covering what."
"My nipple." He groans, and I wonder if he's perhaps touching himself. Holy hell, that would be hot.
There's no question that being watched by a man playing The Great And Powerful Oz is completely turning me on, his words in my ear only, not spoken out loud in a room, and it's unlike any fantasy I'd created before.
"Feel that nipple, Ms. Swan. Slide those fingers over it. Is it hard? What color is it?"
"Oh, yes, it's hard and pink."
"Deep rosy pink or a light, barely there blush?"
"Deep pink, when I'm excited."
"Are you excited now?"
"You have no idea." I say, releasing my breath in a whoosh.
"Actually I can see that you are. But why don't you tell me anyway."
"Why don't you tell me, Mr. Cullen? What you would do if it were your hand in my blouse."
"I'd want to feel how hard you were for me, on the outside of that lacy bra, feeling your nipple through the fabric." I hum, and continue feeling the nipple harden at his words. "I'd dip my fingers in, brushing one lone finger across your breast, reaching for it, stretching for it, until I pressed down on it and felt how hard it was with my own flesh."
I glance down the hallway, my hand still in my shirt, but I remain alone.
"Don't worry, Ms. Swan, I'm keeping watch." He pauses, taking a deep breath, and I feel cheated that I can't see what he may be up to. "Now, keep your fingers on your nipple. Play with it, gently." I do as he says and my head arches back. "Those are my fingers playing with you, teasing you. About to pinch hard." As he says this, I do, and I can't help the loud groan that escapes my mouth at his words. "That's it. Pinch hard, because it's now my mouth on you, licking, sucking, biting."
I picture him sucking my breast and feel a surge straight down my body like fire. I clench my thighs together, and I hear a low chuckle in my ear.
"You're a very dirty girl, Ms. Swan. I bet I could make you come like this, couldn't I?"
Holy mother of all that is holy.
"Oh dear. Seems Ms. Hale is about to pop out of the kitchen."
"You couldn't have warned me?" I say back into my wrist, which shot out of my shirt at the sound of the beep. I swear, this beep will haunt me in my dreams for the rest of my life.
"I could've, but we were getting to a good part. I'll find you later." Another sweet threat. I hear him disconnect.
I see Rose walking towards me and try my best to compose myself. "Bella, why are you outside the conference room? The door is closed." She thumbs towards it and I smile as my eyes follow her thumb, unsure where the cameras are but to me, that door represents him watching.
"I was just stretching my legs. You know, blood clots on long flights." I trail off, hoping I don't sound stupid.
"That's stupid. You've barely sat down. Speaking of. Why don't you take a break, I'll cover the guests in the lounge. Most are napping anyway. Chef has made some cappuccino, bring a cup to the dining room and relax. We're allowed to use that area when they're not." She turns me towards the kitchen and I go gratefully, happy to get off my feet for a bit, as I hadn't realized they were beginning to ache. Along with other parts of me, thanks to Mr. Cullen's voice.
I pass the lounge and notice Rose is right, everyone is accounted for and mostly nodding off watching TV. Even Alice seems sleepy. Maybe one of the others slipped her a mickey.
Gathering my cup and thanking Cheffie with a salute, I walk down towards the dining room, smirking a bit as I put a little sway into my strut. Pulling out one of the padded chairs, I sigh heavily as I sit, sliding off my shoes and rubbing them on the soft carpet. I look up at the ceiling, again trying to decipher spy equipment and see nothing.
I sip my drink and try not to get worked up again thinking of the flirtation with EAC and me. It's obviously something he's done before, right? I mean, there's no way a man, so adept at turning someone on just by speaking to them, hasn't done this before. I assume he never did with Rose because he must've known she was engaged. Maybe Tanya. Maybe that's why she quit. Maybe he tired of their game and she couldn't handle it.
I shake my head at my propensity to overthink, and remember some things Rose had mentioned. She'd told me that EAC isn't always on the flight, that his company uses it sometimes for business where he isn't needed. So perhaps I won't be having a night like this again. I decide to just go with it, enjoy his dirty mouth for the evening, and not make a big deal out of it. He wants to put some fun back on the plane, who am I to deny him? I smirk.
I close my eyes and rest my head back on the leather upholstery. I consider taking off my jacket but the idea of removing clothing just gets me worked up and my nipples say hello again, so I leave it on.
I'm beginning to doze, the warm liquid having a sleepy effect on me despite the caffeine. I'm thinking, daydreaming, in that twilight state between awake and asleep, when I have a thought that makes me stir.
Why can't I buzz him? I can buzz Rose…but then I think that I rather enjoy the fact that I don't know when he may strike again. It's very possible he's watching me right now. It's also entirely possible that he's busy doing something else, because I assume he would've taken the opportunity seeing as I'm alone. One would hope.
I decide to test my theory, and unbutton my jacket. Nothing. I toss my hair over my shoulder and pretend to massage my neck. Nothing. I slide my jacket off slowly, jutting my chest out while I try to not mess up the talking thingy still attached to my ear and cuff. Nothing. I slide my hand back to my neck, gaping my shirt to the side in the process. Moving my fingers over my skin, I stroke, I press, I tickle. Nothing.
Maybe he's actually doing business, so his little leering cameras are off. Boo.
I sit back in my seat and take another sip, my feet moving slowly over the carpet, massaging my insoles. Back and forth for a while, and I'm almost done with my drink when I hear it.
Taking a chance on it being channel five, I don't answer. I take the last sip and replace my cup into the saucer.
Could be Rose, but I'm betting it's not. I can always tell her I nodded off, anyway. I fiddle with my hair.
Just as I'm about to answer, I realize that my jacket is now off; hence I don't have the talking thingy on my wrist. I take my time, trying to figure out how to not look like a dork while holding an empty jacket sleeve up to my mouth. I unclip it and hold it in my palm, sliding my thumb over the dial.
"That was extremely rude."
I smile. "I'm sorry sir, what are you referring to?"
"Making me wait."
"You think I wasn't watching you tease me." He says, a slow drawl filling my ear.
"Tease you? I'm not sure I know what you mean." I feel like I should now be twirling those slutty schoolgirl braids.
"I think you know exactly what I mean. Tell me, Ms. Swan, exactly how hard are your nipples right now?"
I look down towards my breasts. "Um, not so much."
He laughs. "You can't lie to me, I can see them. Right through your shirt."
"How close do your cameras get?" I exclaim loudly, covering my chest with my arms.
"Do not do that." He says sharply, and I slowly move my arms down to my lap at his command. "My equipment is very high tech, of course. Assume they can get very, very close."
With the headiness of his voice in my ear I can almost imagine his face close to my breasts, seeing in person exactly how aroused he's gotten me.
"Close the door."
"Rose is nodding off in the kitchen. I won't be needing her."
I shudder and get up quickly to do as I'm told, shutting the door soundly. I sit back down and pick the talk thingy back up. "Do you mind telling me exactly where you might be watching me from?"
"Yes, I do."
I shoot the whole room a dirty look and frown.
"Bella. I like to be called Bella." But I'm still going to call him Mr. Cullen; it's downright hot.
"As I was saying, Ms. Swan, you were massaging your neck before. Why don't you continue that?"
"And if I don't want to?"
"Then you don't." Silence. He's challenging my challenge. Seeing who breaks first. I could get up right now and go back to the kitchen.
The hand not holding the thingy moves up my blouse slowly, brushing once again over the fabric. Like I wasn't going to cave.
"How will I know if you can see properly? I don't know where you are?"
"I can see just fine." I glance at what's straight ahead of me, the chandelier, the chair opposite, a lamp. No clue.
I start on the top two buttons, moving slowly and deliberately. My fingers part the material as I go, making the expanse wider, and stop just as I reach the top of my bra.
"Faster. The whole thing."
I do as I'm told, and end up sitting in a chair on a PLANE with my shirt hanging open and my bra exposed.
I hear a swallow. "Your nipples are just visible over the line of your bra." I nod. "Pull one side down." I do as I'm told again. "Pretend I'm there, what would my hand do?"
No hesitation, I grasp my breast strongly, squeezing and kneading the flesh, enjoying the gasp in my ear I just provoked. I tilt my head back, closing my eyes, and moan loudly.
"You are a dirty little girl, aren't you? You like it a bit rough?" I nod again. "Hitch that skirt up, sweetheart."
Ding ding! This is going a little farther than I kinda sorta expected it to go. I can't lift my skirt up on this man's PLANE.
The voice turns to honey. "Do it, Bella. You know you want me to see if you're a bra and panty matching sort of woman."
I think quickly, thank God, it does.
I shimmy in the seat, pulling the navy skirt, inching it up my thighs to the very top where it just uncovers the beginning of my underwear between my legs.
"Stop." I stop.
"Touch the top of your thighs, right inside." I slide my fingers inward, my thumbs brushing over the barely exposed fabric.
"Tell me, Ms. Swan, are you wet?" I nod. "Are you so wet that you don't even need to feel yourself to know that?" I nod. "If I were there right now, and I pressed one finger against that fabric, would I feel it?" I nod, squirming at how much I'd love him to do exactly that.
"Fuck, I want to feel you. I want to feel how much you want me. I want to feel your wetness against my thumb as I press that lace. Right. Up. Inside."
"So feel me." I moan, in invitation.
"Go ahead, feel yourself for me. Slide those nasty little fingers in."
My fingers hitch my skirt higher and I spread my legs farther apart, one palm sliding over my skin, the other still holding the thingy.
"Both hands, Ms. Swan. You don't need to talk into your 'thingy'." I hear a slight buzz and he tells me the room contains a microphone.
"I figured the whole plane was wired. I mean bugged." I say with a slight frown and put the device down, testing to see if what he says is true. In my ear, I hear him laugh.
"Call it what you like. I call it a chance for you to use both hands to feel that pussy for me."
My breath sucks in at his choice of word and my hands clench my thighs automatically, digging into my flesh. I move my fingers towards my panties, and slide one finger in on either side. My skin is flushed with warmth and I can feel the dampness without even entering. Damn, I hope he tells me to do that, but I wait. I move my fingers up and down my lips and listen as his breathing intensifies.
Low, deep, words seep into my ear. "Take them off."
Oh Mylanta, I'm about to do this. I rise from the chair and lift my skirt up a bit more from where it was, to access both sides of my underwear. My thumbs hook into the little scrap of fabric and I start to shimmy them down my legs. I hear a swallow in my ear so I go slow, moving my hips back and forth and easing the lace all the way down. My panties are now on the EAC carpeting on a PLANE and I'm afraid to sit back down on the nice upholstered chair. He senses my hesitation.
"It's my fucking plane. Sit." I sit.
"Ms. Swan, would you do me the honor of sliding down a bit?"
"Oh now you ask my permission." I smirk, and slide a bit farther down in the chair; making my skirt rise up even higher, completely exposing myself to a man I've never met.
"Fucking beautiful." He whispers, almost to himself, and then repeats it, stronger. "Your pussy, Ms. Swan, is a thing of beauty."
I instinctively reach down to touch my bare skin, my fingers dancing over the top of where I know his focus is.
I do as I'm told and spread my legs, opening myself up to him more.
"One finger, Ms. Swan. Use one finger." My finger slowly trails down my opening and then back up, dipping in a bit before I bring my hand up towards my mouth.
"Oh, God. Yes, taste yourself." I smile at what appears to be Mr. Cullen getting heated, and open my lips, sliding my finger in, and rolling my tongue around my taste.
"I bet you taste fucking fantastic." He pants and I moan, sucking my finger into my mouth fully.
"You dirty little girl, you like tasting your pussy?" I nod and take my finger out of my mouth, moving it back down towards my open legs. "What do you taste like, Ms. Swan?"
"I taste like fucking heaven, Mr. Cullen." I rest my hand on top of my thigh, awaiting further instruction.
"I bet you do. I'd love to stick my tongue deep into your cunt and suck the life out of you."
I have to hold the arm of the chair lest I fall off from the shudder that just tore through my body. "Mr. Cullen, sir, you're killing me." I pant, my fingers itching to get myself off. Please tell me to get myself off.
"Good. Get that finger back in there and stroke again."
I move my hand immediately to where I want it and start to move.
"Slow down. I didn't tell you to fucking jack off now, did I? Disobedient girls don't get to play."
I whimper and take my hand away, placing just the one, lone finger back in place.
"Slow. Move it across your sweet pussy slow. I want to see the moment your finger slides past that wetness." I do as I'm told, moving my finger back down across my vibrating skin, passing the opening where I really want to go, and slowly trailing it back up towards my clit.
"Go ahead, dip it in." Fucking finally. I place the tip of my finger at my opening and gently push in, not wanting to seem too eager and get reprimanded again. It feels too good, and I want more.
"Can I use two, Mr. Cullen?"
Shit. One finger just ain't cutting it. I smile to myself and put on what I believe to be my sexy voice. "But they're yours, Mr. Cullen. Won't you put two of your strong, able fingers inside me?"
The groan in my ear tells me I hit the nail on the head.
"Yes, please do." His voice sounds as strained as mine.
A second finger joins its partner and I slowly start to move them in and out.
I'm startled when I hear a metallic phone ringing in my ear and then suddenly, he barks into the earpiece. "Godammit. I have to go." And he does.
I'm left sitting in the conference room, shoes off, panties on the floor, and two fingers inside myself. I bang my head back on the chair in frustration and decide to just go for it. If he got a call, he probably isn't watching me anymore. My hand starts to move.
A breathy "Yes?"
And he snarls, "Don't you fucking dare. I'm not done violating you yet."
I use the restroom before going back to the kitchen, trying to compose myself and get the flush out of my cheeks. The eyes staring back at me in the mirror are filled with wickedness, and I bring my finger back to my mouth, tracing my lips and remembering his voice in my ear. His commanding tone has only heightened the depravity I'm feeling.
I shake my head to clear the erotic fog and wash my hands, pressing the wet paper towels I used to dry them to my neck and cheeks. I make sure my skirt is straight, my blouse is properly buttoned and finger comb my hair.
I find Rose in the lounge setting out some fruit and late night cookies for anyone that cares to have any, and she follows me back into the kitchen. "Feeling refreshed?" She asks innocently, taking my cappuccino cup from me and placing it in the dishwasher.
"Yes, it was just what I needed." I try to smile, still feeling cockblocked, and ask if she would like a break as well. She tells me she wouldn't mind a bit of time to call Emmett. I think of the dining room and hope she chooses a different chair. "What about Mr. Cullen?" I ask, hopeful she'll tell me I should wait on him should he need anything in her absence.
"I'll continue to attend to him, of course." Drat. I feel my body deflate and tell her I'll get her if I need her.
Cheffie is sitting in one of the jump seats, and flipping through what looks like a folio of planned menus, since the flight is still another six hours. It occurs to me, that in a thirteen-hour flight, we've gone through seven with Mr. Cullen not once leaving the conference room. He hasn't been strictly working, I think with a smile, but anyone would become restless in one room for that long. I know I would.
Everyone else is napping on the comfy furniture in the lounge, and I assume someone will use the guest bedroom eventually. That makes me think of the other bedroom. His bedroom. I start to imagine what it might look like. I picture a bed with an EAC on the duvet and roll my eyes. I bet it's a big bed. He seems the type.
I jolt, a thought playing through my head that hadn't occurred to me. He could be married. I know nothing about him. Maybe this is something he does to get some 'fun' he maybe misses out on. Oh God. I may do things I probably shouldn't in life, but I'd never fool around with another woman's husband. I have no idea how to find this out.
My observances have told me that there may be something between Blond Guy and Alice, and that redhead lady is much older than EAC, closer to Bloody's age. So if he is married, she isn't on this plane, which duh, she wouldn't be or I wouldn't be getting off, literally, on his voice.
I eye Cheffie, but I doubt he'd know or even care to tell me if he did. I could ask Rose, she'd probably know, she'd probably wonder for a moment why I was asking and then just brush it off as "Bella being nosy", but I can live with that.
I busy myself with moving things around, opening cabinets, and drinking some water for a while, waiting for…something.
I feel like when you're all dressed up for a party and it's not time to leave so you don't know what to do with yourself. Having idle time on my hands is giving my brain time to circle, which is always dangerous, and I get antsy waiting for Rose to come back so I can ask her my question. I consider trying Google again, but figure that won't be any help. Guilt starts to set in, regardless of whether or not the answer is a yes or a no.
This, as fun as it is, is not a good idea. I know this. I start to worry about the fact that he wants to remain anonymous to me. Is he ashamed he's perhaps attracted to a flight attendant? Does he do this in hotel rooms or office buildings? Maybe he's got similar setups wherever his global headquarters are and I'm just one of many. I'm not expecting declarations of love, mind you, but it would be nice to know this isn't a normal occurrence for him.
I start pacing the kitchen, and Cheffie gives me an annoyed look and asks me to stop. This time, it's my turn to ignore him. I walk back and forth over the hardwood, my hands wringing together and I start feeling sweaty. I'm no saint, but I've never felt like a whore before in my life, and I sure don't want to feel that way now, because it's starting to creep in and it isn't sitting well.
The sound shoots through my head like an electrical current. I assume Rose would've just come back to the kitchen if she needed something, but I ask into channel two anyway.
"Yes, Rose?" Nothing.
I sigh, and move away from Cheffie and out into the small hallway. Flipping over to five, I take a deep breath.
"I'm truly sorry for the interruption Ms. Swan. Forgive me?" His smooth voice lulls me, and I lean against the wall, until I remember the question I need to know the answer to.
"Are you married?"
"Why are you interrogating me, Ms. Swan?"
"You didn't answer that last one."
"No. What kind of man do you think I am?"
"Well that's the issue, you see. I have no idea what kind of a man you are. You seduce me with your words but won't show your face. When you're making me want you so badly, that's all I think of. But when you're gone, well…."
"I could be one of many. I don't wish to be in that group. I would really like to continue working on your plane, sir, and I hope that my indiscretion on the flight today doesn't hinder that."
"Bella, what is going on? Did someone say something to you?" He asks, confusion in his voice.
"No. It's just me, not wanting to feel like a whore." I wince at the way the word makes me feel.
"You think you're a whore? You think this is a regular thing for me?"
"I have no idea. You've given me nothing of yourself. You've watched me for hours, I have no doubt you have some sort of file on me from HR, and all I have is a picture in my head, a beep in my ear, and quite frankly," I spit out, "An orgasm that's becoming painful to withhold."
Silence over the line, and I wonder if he's trying to come up with something to make me believe I'm not lumped into a select group. I see Rose coming back down the hallway the same time he does. "Shit." He says into my ear, and I know it's time to end this.
"Goodbye, sir." I say, and I switch to channel two. I walk into the kitchen with Rose behind me and she chats idly about Emmett while I pretend to listen. We move side-by-side, polishing stemware that doesn't need polishing and straightening things that have been straightened numerous times already.
I hear Cheffie drop his notebook followed by a scrambling motion behind me, before he speaks. "Mr. Cullen. Sir, what's wrong? Do you need something?" I hear Rose gasp and we both turn at the same time, all of us completely still at the sight of EAC standing in the kitchen.
My heart is racing at the sight of him, an actual in person glimpse of the man that's been driving me crazy for hours. His presence is intimidating, his entire being takes up every inch of the kitchen and makes everything else near him seem inconsequential.
He is a force.
And he's stunning.
Standing there with a scowl on his face in his expensive suit and tie, slightly loosened at the neck, I'm having trouble swallowing.
Rose jumps. "Mr. Cullen, I'm sorry, were you paging me? I didn't hear anything." She starts fumbling with her cuff, and he cuts her off.
"No, Ms. Hale. I came to speak with Ms. Swan."
"Did Bella do something wrong?" Rose asks, turning to me and I shoot her a dirty look.
"Thanks, chum." I say, and I hear EAC chuckle. Which I think startles Cheffie and Rose cause they both turn quickly when they hear it.
"No, nothing is wrong. Everything has been fine, I assure you." I look at him and see a hint of amusement in his face, but his eyes match the picture, tense and on fire.
"Mr. Cullen? Is everything ok sir?" I hear from behind EAC and his security team appears in the doorway.
"It's fine." He snaps, turning to them, and we see Bloody coming up behind the security team.
"Edward? What's going on?" His voice is still a bit slurry and sleepy, and I see EAC getting exasperated.
"Nothing is wrong. I came to speak to Ms. Swan."
"But you're out of the conference room. And standing in the kitchen." That came from Pinched-face's grating voice but I can't see her behind Bloody.
"For Christ's sake, it's my fucking PLANE. I can go wherever I want." EAC barks, like I'd assumed he probably did at his staff, and everyone shuts up.
"Now, if you all don't mind, I'd like to talk to Ms. Swan."
We all just stand there, unsure of what to do. Am I supposed to say something? Or was he going to talk to me here? "Let me put channel five on." I say, looking at him full on.
I see Rose side-eye me, and he responds. "No need. You asked a question, and you deserve an answer."
We all hold our breath, well, I do anyway, and wait for him to say whatever it is he's going to say. He doesn't disappoint.
"I live a lonely life, Bella. I work. I fly. I play Halo. I've had some women here and there, yes, but nothing," he pauses and takes in a breath. "Nothing like what's been going on with you, tonight."
All eyes turn to me, as I say nothing, paralyzed with the attention placed on me in this moment, and rendered speechless by the magnificent man in front of me.
His face darkens at the realization that I'm not responding like he wanted.
A slow smirk crawls over my face as I see EAC's holding a thingy, so I pull mine out slowly and switch to channel five. "Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I say expertly, and watch as his mouth talks into his own.
"Ms. Swan. I require a word with you. Follow me, please." He turns and it's like the Red Sea parting, with the security team on one side and Bloody and Alice on the other. He storms out and all eyes turn to me once more.
Partly to escape the scrutiny, but mostly cause I wanna, I follow EAC out of the kitchen and down the hallway. To my surprise, we pass the conference room and he heads straight for the double doors that lead to his bedroom. He stands, holding one open for me, so I slip in and hear it shut behind me.
I smirk. I was right. Big bed with an EAC on the white duvet. I feel a hand on my arm and I turn, the touch foreign even though I feel like he's been touching me all night.
"Bella, I'm being truthful." I see it in his eyes, a sort of longing for something I can't quite put my finger on. It's almost like what I imagine deep-seeded loneliness looks like. "I've enjoyed every minute with you. And it's not just the more visual part of the evening." He wags his eyebrows, making me grin. "It's been having you talk to me, having you be yourself around me. You've made me laugh, with the cursing and the bird flipping." His mouth turns up on one side in a half smile, and I do the only thing I can think of. I jump him.
My mouth is on his quicker than he had my panties off in the conference room. I feel his arms circle me and press my body to his, his mouth matching my intensity. His mouth moves across my cheek and I feel him pull the mechanism (aha!) out of my ear. The feeling of his hot breath there, replacing his voice, is just as pleasant and he sucks the skin right below.
"Talk to me, Mr. Cullen. Talk to me with that dirty mouth of yours."
"Call me Edward."
"Mr. Cullen, I think I gave you a direct order." His mouth stills on my neck and I feel him pull back.
What I see is that his eyes are green, bright and ablaze with desire and playfulness. "Take that fucking uniform off."
"Yes, sir." I say immediately, my stomach flipping and my thighs clenching. I pull my jacket off quickly, the wire still in the sleeve and falling to the ground in a heap. My fingers move to the buttons and I see his hands reach up and snatch both sides of my open collar, pulling the material, causing the buttons to fly around the room.
"Well, fuck me." I say, overcome with surprise and want. He laughs darkly.
"That's my intention, Ms. Swan." His fingers move to the back of my bra and he deftly undoes the hooks, pushing my bra and shirt off together. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so good, you won't be able to walk down the hallway to the kitchen for quite some time."
A whimper escapes my mouth and I feel his lips attach to my neck, sliding down while his hand roughly grabs my breast. "Is this how it felt when you did it to yourself?" He asks, and I just shake my head, because it was nothing like this. "When it was your hand you were pretending with?" I shake again. "No, you're right. I would've been much rougher than that."
At his words, I feel his fingers pinch my nipple hard, and I cry out and hold his shoulders, realizing this is the first time I'm touching him. I feel the wool of his suit jacket under my hands and start to pull and push, telling him I want it off.
"I'm not done playing with your tit, yet, Ms. Swan. This is 'me' time." He growls and I still my hands, satisfied with them just resting against him. His mouth moves down and sucks my nipple in, his teeth pulling and his tongue rolling around its hardness. He pulls the other cup down and gives that one the same treatment before moving back up to my mouth. Kissing me roughly, he goes to unzip my skirt, and I feel his hands searching my ass.
"I guess you really haven't done this before. It's on the side." I say, all sorts of happy that he didn't know where the attendant's uniform zipper was. His hands move to where they've been directed and he pulls the metal down in one swift movement, before pulling the skirt down quickly right after.
He runs his hands up and down my body. "So much better than on a video monitor." I move to take his jacket off again but stops me and surprises me by twirling me around. My body is pressed against his, the button of his jacket pressing into my back. "I said I'm not done with you yet."
He takes my underwear and pulls the sides, the flimsy fabric snapping in two, falling to the floor between my feet. Hot damn. I hear the rustle of clothing and see his jacket being tossed on the bed. Followed by his tie, shirt, and finally, his pants. I reach my hand around and feel silky material on his thigh, and before I can even utter a word, his hand is on me between my legs, so close to where I want him, and I feel his erection pressed against me.
"Talk to me." I say, sliding my hand up higher to feel him straining through his boxers. He does what I was hoping for, and moves his mouth right up against the ear he's been in all night.
"Do you want my fingers in you, Ms. Swan?" He says hotly, while slipping those fingers through my wetness. "I can feel how hot you are, all for me. Isn't that right?"
I nod and my hands find his, one on my stomach and the other sliding down to cover his down below. "Your pussy is so fucking wet." He groans in my ear and my hand joins his just as he finally touches me fully. I cry out, his fingers swirling underneath mine. "So fucking soft." He strokes me, his thumb playing with my clit while his fingers start probing my entrance.
He's still up by my left ear and his breath is brushing across me as his pace increases. "Do you like to be finger fucked? Do you want my fingers deep inside of you?"
"Yes, I want that." I punctuate the words by having my hand press his roughly. Our fingers slip in together, filling me, and I shudder. His arm holds me up around my waist and presses me back harder against him.
We move our fingers in and out, the arm on my waist slides up my chest, his hand cupping my breast. I'm holding onto his forearm while the other tries to keep up with how deep he's entering me.
"Oh fuck, Ms. Swan, I need to know." With that, he moves his head to the other side of mine and he pulls our fingers out, his immediately flying up to his mouth. I hear him moan as he tastes my wetness on him. "Delectable. Downright sinful. I was right."
"I want to taste you too." I say, my hand still hovering over myself, wanting to play but not moving.
His words feel the same in the other ear. "Do you like to suck cock?" I nod. "Do you want to suck my cock?" I nod again and quickly turn, my hands reaching for his boxers and sliding them down while I sink to my knees.
"Anxious little vixen, aren't you." I don't answer, instead, making him shout out when I wrap my mouth around his hardness. "Fuck yeah. Suck that cock, Ms. Swan."
I grab his hand and place it on my head, pressing it firmly against my scalp. He gets the hint.
His other hand joins in and they dig into my hair, pulling my head gently back and forth. I grunt and move my head under his hands and he grips tighter. "Oh that's it, is it? You want me to fuck that dirty little mouth of yours? You got it." I moan and nod so he increases his grip, pushing me farther onto his cock and slowly pulling me back. He goes deeper with each thrust and moans when he realizes I can take him all in.
"Oh yeah, that's it. I want your nose pressed against me and my cock filling your throat." My hands are clasping his ass, gripping and squeezing, my hips are swiveling in rhythm with his thrusting, simulating his movement.
"Fuck, I'm going to come." He pulls my head off of him with a bit of opposition, and he laughs darkly, pulling me up to face him. Seeing my pout at being stopped, he takes his thumb and puts it near my lips, which I quickly suck into my mouth. "Don't worry, I'll let you suck my cock all you want later. Right now-" he turns me around swiftly, my hands flying out to brace against the dresser. "I want to pound into that sweet, hot, needy pussy of yours I've been thinking about for hours. Top drawer." He orders, and I open it, finding a box of condoms. He rips one open, and slips it on.
Holding my hips, he spreads my legs with his foot and I feel him press his erection against my ass. "And someday, perhaps, I'll claim this too." I feel him touching where no man has gone before, and find myself agreeing with a moan.
He presses his entire body flush against mine, my back feeling the hardness of his chest, my cheek feeling the scruff of his chin. He lines himself up at my entrance and places the tip just inside.
He groans at the feel of it, into the ear he's owned all night. "You'd better hold on tight, Ms. Swan. I'm about to fill that tight and unbearably teased pussy of yours. I'm assuming you don't want slow?"
"Fuck no." I answer, my ass moving against him, willing him to begin. Before the words barely escape my mouth, I feel his cock bury itself within me. We both grunt at the force, the dresser bumping the wall at the impact. He stands there, still flush against me, breathing heavily.
"Oh, Ms. Swan, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. I knew you would." He places a rushed kiss on my ear before he begins to move in and out of me, not quite frantic, but certainly not leisurely.
"Unh, goddamn. Mmm, yeah." I mutter, my head falling forward and my eyes squeezing shut.
"That's it, baby, clench that pussy around me," He grinds out, "Fuck, I can feel your muscles tightening with each thrust." He pumps into me with a steady rhythm while I hold the top of the dresser with both hands. His hands move from my hips and one goes to grab my breast, while the other crosses my chest and lifts my head back up so his mouth is once again near my favorite ear.
"Do I feel good, Bella? Do I feel good inside you? Filling you? Fucking you?" I just nod my head; unable to speak with the intensity that's coursing through my body. "Tell me."
I moan, stuttering, trying to sound coherent while being rammed roughly from behind. "Having you in my pussy at the same time as your voice in my ear," I pant, "is fucking awesome."
I hear him chuckle darkly as he places his mouth on my throat, hot and wet. He's still moving, my feet practically lifting off the floor from the fervent fuck he's giving me.
He speeds up, keeping his thrusts deep and all I can think about is how good he feels, how good he's making me feel, when his hand leaves my breast and reaches for where we're joined.
"Oh fuck, fuck. Fuck, that feels good, I can feel myself slipping in and out of you." I want in, so I move my hand to cover his in a repeat from a few moments ago. I press my fingers to his slick cock as it's moving in and out of my entrance and he growls at my touch. "Touch it, Bella. Feel me fucking you. Feel me filling you deep."
His words, still in my ear, make my stomach tense and I feel my orgasm approaching. "I'm going to come." I half moan out into the room, and his fingers, which are still on my neck, turn my head so that my mouth is next to his ear this time.
"Say it again, Ms. Swan." He commands.
The tip of my tongue reaches out teasingly, licking, before I speak. "I'm going to come."
"I didn't quite hear you. WHO is making you come?"
"You, sir, you're making me come! Ohhh!" And with that, he bucks into me frantically, my hips cutting into the dresser top, sure to leave a mark, and I come undone. He lets go of my head and it falls forward, making my body collapse so that my breasts are pressed against the wood. His hands move back to my hips and he pounds furiously, grunting behind me until he gives one final thrust, seating himself deep within while he pulses, before collapsing on top of me.
We don't move, we don't speak, we just try to breathe and gather our wits. After a moment, I feel his lips press into my shoulder, then my neck, into my hair and over to my cheek. He leaves his mouth there, pressed to my skin before he shifts back slightly, his lips grazing my ear.
"Thank God for channel five."
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Public voting: August 13 2013 to 27 August 2013.