Bob showed up on a Sunday.
At three thirty in the morning.
I didn't exactly know if that was his name, but he looked like a Bob. Big friendly face. Bulldog stance. Smoker's drawl. I watched his ghostly shape come running across the deserted street, raspy exhales heralding his arrival. He sauntered up like he didn't have a care in the entire world and rubbed his face all over me while I smoked. Talked a one-sided conversation with himself as he fumbled with the screen door, trying to get inside. When that failed, he crawled right into my lap to dig his claws affectionately into my thigh.
I hated to admit it, but orange cats were the best.
Alice, the prissy grey long hair, would have a shit fit if she knew.
She would also have a shit fit if I went back inside smelling like I had cheated on her, but I couldn't help falling for Bob just a little. He had a purr that got caught in his throat and made his whole body vibrate. Big yellow eyes and freckles around his pink nose. He was fat enough that it was clear he belonged to someone and wasn't just a stray. And he wanted to come inside.
I apologized as I shut the door on him, telling him to go home.
He was there again the next morning. Three thirty. Alice was still passed out in bed with her head on the pillow and her snore filling up my tiny bedroom. I couldn't blame my insomnia on her, but she sure didn't help matters much. I'd taken to abandoning the bed, letting her sprawl out right in the middle of the mattress while I made coffee then stole outside to smoke.
And hang out with my new best friend.
He must have had some sort of radar because it never took much longer than thirty seconds or so for him to show up after I stepped outside. His squeaky voice through the dark and then the warm, furry body pressed up against my legs. Finding a spot on my lap only after he'd assured himself that I wasn't going to let him inside and that he wasn't going to get in there on his own. It wasn't that I didn't want another cat, but Alice sure fucking didn't. She'd only glared disdainfully at the kitten I tried to get us last Christmas, then proceeded to ignore it completely unless she was swatting it away. The kitten had only lasted a week before it got so bored that it destroyed a plant, two books, and my favorite flip flops before eating an entire bag of microwaved popcorn in the time it took me to use the bathroom. It now lived across town with nine year old Charlotte, a birthday present from Auntie Bella and her diva cat-daughter.
"Sorry, dude, but I've got a girl in there who does not want to turn our relationship into a menage a trois." I scratched behind Bob's ears and let him rumble against my legs with that intense purr of his while we listened to the crickets all around us in companionable silence. I was killing off my smoke when a car pulled in across the street. The house had been erected less than two months ago, totally ruining my view, and the cat probably belonged to the new owner. Bob confirmed my suspicions when he flounced off my lap and was halfway down the walk before bothering to look back at me.
"Looks like we're both cheating," I grumbled and he blinked as though he didn't even mind the rain, his squeaky wheeze just like a laugh.
I found Bob in the house.
Having a silent showdown with Alice in the kitchen.
Scarfing down her food while she looked at me reproachfully, silently commanding me to do something about the pest that was currently invading our home. I didn't know how he'd gotten inside, probably through the tiny hole in the back door that Alice herself refused to use. She was too uptight to press her face against anything hard enough to actually open it and preferred to howl incessantly from the front door until I gave up on my sanity and got up to let her outside.
Bob looked up at me, crunching happily away, and I could have sworn he was grinning just a little bit.
I picked him up and stormed across the street.
The house was made of plastic. Pre-fab and plain compared to my hodgepodge little bungalow and I choked down my residual annoyance as I flew up the steps. Sure, my house still had siding that was considered poisonous by the FDA, the roof was a little leaky and the bathtub was invented for a person not over four feet tall, but it had character. Which this house certainly did not. It looked like something you could pick out of a catalogue, this color siding, those windows, that tile, and I was amazed that the flowers in the window boxes weren't actually made of plastic themselves.
Pansies. Purple and gold and real.
I knocked on the door and Bob snorted in my arms, scrabbling to get down.
"Look, buddy." I gripped him tighter as someone inside yelled their approach. "We've gotta sort some shit out with your human, ok?"
Half naked and tattooed within an inch of his life, the guy at the door almost made my knees go out. There was music blaring from inside the house, something loud and full of frantic guitars, but it had nothing on the heartbeat pounding by my ears. I gulped and tried not to blush, somehow managing to stay upright, wishing I had put on something other than my pajama shorts and the ratty t-shirt from my hair-metal-fangirl days.
"Does this belong to you?" I held Bob up between us as a shield, cowering behind him. Bob meowed mournfully and the guy reached out, pulling him from my hands.
"Where the fuck have you been?" The guy hissed at the cat, but Bob obviously was not gonna give up our secret midnight meetings because he stayed silent for once, eyeing his human suspiciously. I took the opportunity to do the same, pulling my lip into my mouth and biting it as hard as I possibly could without crying.
Bare feet and low-slung pants and a fuckton of ink. Tousled hair and pretty green eyes and a ring through his nipple.
I hated Bob.
Not only for getting me into this situation in the first place, but for not doing it a lot sooner, and for being clutched in those arms. Hissed at from two inches away. I'd envied cats before, their carefree lives spent being fed and lounging in someone else's bed all day, but I'd never felt like they were my competition.
"Don't you fucking dare," I growled at Bob when he ambled out of the dark the next morning. "I'm on to you, you little imposter."
He ignored me, rubbing up against my legs while he told me all about his day with that husky mewl of his. I sucked angrily on my cigarette and tried to ignore him, but he made it impossible. A heartbreaker, that cat, and pretty great at getting me to love him despite my best intentions. I broke down and was scratching behind his ears when that car pulled into the driveway across the street and Holy Hotness stepped out. He glanced instantly in my direction and I didn't hide the fact that I was fondling his cheating cat. I put out my cigarette as he ambled across the street without looking, stopping in front of me to glare at Bob.
"Should've known you wouldn't listen," he grumbled. Bob did the worst thing he could have done in that moment, probably on purpose. He hopped right into my lap and clung to my clothes when I tried to push him off. I could have sworn the cat smelled faintly of pickles. "You're such a slut," the guy huffed.
"I think the term you're looking for is manwhore," I corrected, still trying to disengage Bob. Holy Hotness gave me a funny look. "Boys can't be sluts," I clarified.
"Sure they can," he chuckled. "If they're a girl."
"This is not a girl." I shook my head. Bob was all boy, flirty and confident and full of free will.
And orange. Which usually went hand in hand with kitty dick.
"You can check if you want, but she's not too fond of anything getting between her legs except her tongue."
"Well, if she is a girl, she's a butchy lesbian."
"Sounds about right, actually. And a slut."
"Maybe she's learning all her tricks from you. Who gets home at three thirty in the morning anyway?"
"A DJ. Takes a while to pack my shit back up after last call." He grinned. "Who's up smoking at three thirty in the morning, anyway?"
Holy Hotness claimed he had something to help me with my cat invasion problem, but what he really had was more stereo equipment than furniture.
There were piles of it in the entryway and cords strewn all over the living room carpet, which I promptly tripped on. He caught me by the elbow before my face hit the floor. I sat on a speaker while Hotness went rummaging through the kitchen and Bob lounged across the top of a desk, her head resting on the keyboard of an expensive looking computer. All of the equipment looked expensive, actually, lots of shiny chrome and little knobs. Giant control panels that looked like they belonged in the cockpit of an airplane and not in some guy's living room. I counted four microphones, one of them plated entirely in gold, and and twelve pairs of headphones.
"Here, use this next time." Hotness reappeared and held out a spray bottle full of clear liquid. Bob took one look at that bottle and bolted.
"What is it?" I asked as I watched the cat vanish.
"Vinegar. And water," he shrugged, "but mostly vinegar."
"No wonder your cat smells like pickles."
"She hates it. It's the only way to keep her off my equipment."
"I'd love to try this, but Alice would freak if the house started smelling like that," I handed the bottle back. "Besides, I kind of like your cat too much to contribute to the pickle smell."
"Suit yourself." He set the bottle aside and sat down at the desk a few feet away from me, lounging back in his chair. "So, you know what I do . . ." He spread his arms wide, indicating the clusterfuck of fancy technology. "What do you do?"
"I write books."
"What kind of books?"
I could have sugar coated it. I usually did, claiming to pen chick-lit or romance or highbrow literary fiction, but this guy had inspired some downright dirty passages in my latest piece of work and I just couldn't bring myself to lie.
His eyebrows flew into his hair and I saw him gulp. I gulped in response and waited for him to say something. When he finally did, he sounded just like his raspy cat.
"You don't say . . ."
I caught the cats fucking.
On my bed.
"Alice!" I screeched and she jumped, bucking Bob right off her and skittering away with her tail between her legs. Bob promptly plopped on her ass and hoisted her back leg into the air, licking her vag.
"You lesbian whore!" I threw my sweatshirt at her and she just let it hit her, looking at me like I should have seen this part coming. "You never even liked me, did you? It was about Alice this whole time, wasn't it?"
If cats could nod, she would have.
"Just you wait until I tell your human about this," I threatened, and was halfway to his house before I remembered what time it was. Eight p.m., which meant he was probably at work and sure enough, his car was gone. I huffed back across the street, tossed Bob out of the house, and berated Alice about the dangers of promiscuous sex for an hour before she'd had enough of me and stalked away to pout in the sunroom.
I spent the rest of the night waiting for Hotness and writing something that involved him and a bunch of bad language.
I was a complete mess by the time he got home.
He showed at up two thirty seven a.m. with Chinese food.
"I thought it took a while to pack up?" I teased, jogging across the street as he waved me over. "You're sort of early."
He got all huffy and agitated as he unlocked the door, red underneath all the ink. "Yeah, well, I can break my own records," he muttered and held the door open for me. We set up at the kitchen counter, shoving more music equipment out of the way to make space.
"I want to know about being a DJ. What's it like?" I asked, while I tried to figure out how to use my chopsticks, failing woefully and trying not to stare as he ate with practiced ease.
"Sort of boring, actually. I want to know more about your porn. Err, writing," he corrected. I blushed, completely certain that I should have never said anything at all. He was smirking, lips spread thin across his teeth and curled up to one side, like he knew something I didn't. I wasn't stupid enough to write under my real name, so there was no way he could have looked me up, but I'd wager a solid bet that he'd passed a couple hundred of my books on the shelves at the grocery store over the years.
"I smoke too much and drink too much and spend most of my time sitting in front of my computer, erasing nearly everything I've written. It's frustrating as fuck."
"Fucking isn't supposed to be frustrating." He snorted, eyes blatantly dropping to my hips for a moment before finding my face again.
"It is when you have no one to take it out on," I grumbled. My collection of vibrators wasn't just a collection anymore, it was a museum-worthy installation. And got much more frequent use than I really cared to admit. I always knew I had just written something especially juicy if I had to take a break to "relieve" myself.
"Don't you have a girlfriend?" He tilted his head to the side, just like Alice when I was doing something she didn't understand, looking confused. I scrunched my face up at him, unsure where he could have ever gotten that idea. No one came to my house and I certainly didn't go anywhere, the hermit-like life of a writer keeping me secluded for the better part of my days.
"Who's Alice then?"
I laughed out loud. Clapped my hand over my mouth and chuckled through my fingers.
"My pussy. Cat."
"Say that again," he panted.
"Pussy. Say it again."
His jaw hardened, but he didn't push it. "So, you're not seeing anyone?"
"No," I sighed, not exactly wanting to discuss my lack of love life. I was sure that his was just as colorful as his arms.
"Why the fuck not?"
"No one's interested."
"With a body like that? You're a liar," he scoffed, blatantly eyeballing me again.
"There's nothing under here to write home about." I tugged at the hem of my shirt, sort of wishing I'd bothered to put on a bra because my nipples were turning into rocks and they were pointing right at him. He obviously noticed, jerking his chin toward me with his eyes half-hooded and that lazy smile on his face.
"Take it off. Let's see."
"What? No." If I got naked in front of this boy, there was no way I could be held accountable for my actions.
"I'm a pretty good judge."
"Says the guy who taught his lesbian cat how to be a slut."
He didn't even flinch. Didn't even try to defend himself, just crossed his arms over his chest, practically leering at me. Sexy as fuck, which was so unfair. "At least you know I'll give you a fair assessment."
"I'm sure you could," I said dryly. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna give you a free show."
"Who says the show is free? I'm willing to pay admission."
He licked his lips then bit the bottom one, probably so he wouldn't grin like a kid who won the shovel in the sandbox war as I rolled my eyes and started to unbutton my shorts. I'd spent the entire day writing steamy sex largely inspired by him and I was already aching somewhere deep between my legs. This guy's gaze did something downright sinful to my skin that I could not ignore. I dropped the shorts and pulled off my shirt, clutching my tits to hide my rock hard nipples and rubbed my knees together awkwardly.
He just stared. And stared and stared and stared.
"Drop your hands," he demanded. "I want to see them."
Fuck. When he didn't ask . . . . be still my throbbing vag. I dropped my hands and stared at the floor, wondering what the heck I was doing, standing naked in Bob's living room, letting his human eyefuck me without so much as a goddamn goosebump. Not-so-shamefully enjoying the heat I got off his gaze.
"You have no idea how hot you look, naked in the middle of my sound equipment." His voice was low and measured.
"I think you need to get your eyes checked."
He shook his head slowly, eyes studiously devouring me like he might be tested on the details later. "I want to fuck you to death metal."
"Death metal?" I nearly choked. That was not what I was expecting him to say at all.
He nodded this time. "Ride you to something classical," he said intently. "I want to watch you suck my dick while the speakers pound out something hard and fast, and I want to taste your cum to something slow and soft." His voice trailed off, the last word caught forever on his tongue before he let it fall off the end, a double tuck from a high dive, barely a splash when it hit the pool. Between my legs. This guy was planning out the soundtrack to our imaginary fucking and I wanted to sign on to every single one of those tracks.
"Well, which one is it?" I asked and he leaned toward me, pausing just inches away to press a button somewhere behind my head. The room flooded with wailing guitars and lyrics screamed through song-torn throats. Loud and rough and ragged.
Death metal it is then.
"God, fuck, look at that beautiful pussy."
That word. Pussy. In his pretty, pretty mouth. I burst into a burning ball of flames and squirmed across the floor, my fingers tangled in the mess of cords strewn across the carpet, holding on for dear life as he slid his palms beneath my ass and dug his thumbs into the soft spots between my legs and said pussy.
"I want to kiss it." He pressed his lips to the top of my slit and my thighs clamped involuntarily around his face. "Want to lick it." His tongue dipped just deep enough to taste me. "Want to eat it out." Another kiss, pressed hard against my entrance, not venturing beyond the outside. "Say yes." He sounded breathless and eager and I nodded frantically, sure that if he didn't do something, and soon, I was going to die. Internal combustion was probably painful as fuck and I was right there on the burning lip of it.
He buried his face. Nose deep as he licked, teeth to my clit as he sucked. His grip on my backside hoisted me right off the floor and I dug my toes into his shoulders, my fingers into his hair, my shoulders into the carpet, my teeth into my lip and tried not to scream. His mouth was wet and soft and haloed in a scratchy ring of stubble that scraped roughly when he shoved himself deeper, grinding with his nose and thrusting with his tongue.
"It tastes even better than it looks," he murmured when he emerged, panting just a little and looking nearly dizzy. He glanced up at me, face wet and shiny and gave me that killer grin before diving back in. Murmuring things about cum and clits and making me beg for it. About his throbbing cock and oh yeah, baby, that's it right there. Do that some more. Ride my face. Fuck my tongue.
I'd never cum so hard in my entire life.
He flipped me over, my stomach to the scratchy carpet and kissed my backside a few times, biting down hard on the right cheek when I squealed. "Spread those legs, girl. Give it up," he whispered hoarsely, kneeling between my legs and I waited for him to do something. Anything. As long as he did it to me. When it came, it came hard and fast. Stinging contact between his palm and my ass.
"You like that, huh?" He didn't even give me a chance to respond before he did it again. Slap, hard enough to burn and I'd bet my last good piece of underwear that he was leaving handprints all over me. I squirmed, wiggling my ass at him, his knees pressed hard to the insides of my thighs and his mouth ghosting over my tail bone. I didn't trust myself to speak, knowing it would all come out garbled and needy and incoherent. I just wanted him to keep going and never, ever stop. Four more slaps, each harder than the last, and I wasn't at all prepared for the one that landed right over my exposed vag, a painful thwack that felt so fucking good even though it brought tears to my eyes. I moaned, and he did it again.
Thwack, his knuckle against my clit for one brilliantly painful second.
Thwack, and I was sure he was leaving permanent evidence of his fingerprints behind.
Thwack, and I cried out, more in bliss than in pain, but it was almost impossible to tell the difference between the two.
"Talk to me," he whispered roughly from somewhere behind me, kneading my ass in both hands.
"More. Please," I pleaded against the carpet and he pushed my hair off my face, leaning down over me with his belt buckle biting into the tender skin of my ass cheek.
His breath smelled like me.
"Tell me what you want," he crooned, still totally together all while he made me fall apart. He dropped his face to the back of my neck and bit gently.
"Fuck me," I panted.
"Slow enough for what?" A measured, circular thrust of his hips had my voice trembling long before I even spoke.
"Make me beg."
He moaned and threw his head back when the tip of his dick hit the back of my throat.
"Shit, your mouth feels so good." He glanced down at me and I gripped his thigh in one hand, his dick in my other, and batted my lashes up at him. Slobbering all over his beautiful, hard-as-fuck cock. He had both hands buried in my hair, holding it up out of the way so that he could watch my progress and he tasted like salt. I licked around the head, flushed nearly purple, and deep throated him again.
I hated sucking dick.
Except this dick was different and this guy's dirty mouth could talk me into anything. Case in point, I was rug-burning my kneecaps for him and gagging on his cock, trying to decide if it was prettier than his eyes. So far, they were tied.
"Fuck yes," he growled, yanking my hair hard enough to make my eyes prickle. "My dick looks so good fucking your mouth. Get me wet, baby, show me how wet you are."
Ha, I'd show him. I dipped my fingers between my legs, trying to avoid my clit because I'd probably get myself off just by grazing it, I was so skittishly worked up. I dunked my fingers and used them to coat his soft skin, then licked every last bit of it right back off. The muscles in his legs were trembling and my knees were aching, but I didn't stop until he was pounding his head back against the wall, muttering to himself and pulling my hair out by the roots.
"I'm gonna cum and you're gonna swallow it. Every. Last. Fucking. Drop." He grunted, thrusting hard into my mouth with each word.
True to his prediction, he came and I swallowed.
He tied me up with his mic cords.
Wrapped them around my wrists and secured the other end to the leg of the desk. Pinned my elbows to my temples and hooked my knees over his shoulders. Sat back on his heels and rubbed up against my clit with the tip of his dick for a while until I was moaning and writhing and pulling on the cords around my hands hard enough to cut off all the blood. He had an evil smile on his face as he teased my entrance, barely edging inside.
The first taste of the impending stretch around him made my mouth go dry.
"Holy shit. I wish you could see this, you're so wet. And fuck, I'm so hard and you're dripping all over me." He never stopped moving, always inching forward, spreading my thighs apart and sounding like he was watching some high class art film rather than himself sort-of-fucking me in the middle of a bunch of sound equipment.
His dick was even better than his tongue and he ground it down hard against my clit.
"I'm gonna cum," I moaned and he hissed at me, just like he had done to his cat that first night we met, the sound burrowing into my belly and detonating everything underneath my skin. If I hadn't known any better I would have thought he was angry with me, but his eyes were bright and he was obviously enjoying torturing me.
"Oh, no, you're fucking not," he grunted and pulled away, wincing as he gripped his dick, my legs falling from his shoulders. He flipped me again, obviously an ass man, and hoisted me to my knees. Slapped my left cheek hard and I struggled a little against the cords around my wrists, though I didn't see much point. I didn't exactly want to escape and the tingling in my hands was kind of a nice distraction. I could feel him behind me, the scratchy brush of his thighs and his cock nestled firmly in the crack of my ass. He pumped a few times, coating me with my own arousal.
"Your asshole is just as pretty as your pussy. I'm gonna fuck it with my fingers while I fuck you with my dick." He was doing so before he even warned me, slick hands skittering along the crack of my ass as he thrust his dick into me in one steady push. Deep enough to get a peek at my insides and pulled out just to do it all over again. Thumb matching the actions of his cock, pressing in unison, and then moving in opposite directions, and oh holy fuck.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
"Oh my god," I panted, willing myself to stay on my knees. He probably wouldn't let me collapse anyway. I could hear him almost laugh behind me and he kept his dick buried deep inside as he pulled his thumb free and rubbed thoughtfully all around my asshole, the pad of his finger skimming over every inch, torturously slow.
"You're so fucking tight. Can you feel that? Grip it baby, clamp down on my dick like you mean it." I did, and he hissed, his free hand skittering up my back and burrowing through the hair at the base of my skull. I could feel it, the full body burn, and I went scrambling for it, giving him whatever he wanted if he'd just give it back to me.
"Please," I whispered into the carpet, but he couldn't hear me over his heavy breathing, the slap of skin. "Please," I tried again and felt his fingers tense against my scalp.
"What was that? Speak up," he grunted, getting a firm grip on a healthy handful of my hair.
"Please," I moaned loudly as he swiveled his hips and pulled on my ponytail. Yanking strong enough to make me groan. Pounding hard enough to sink a nail into a wall. Chanting as he ground me right through the floor, into the molten-hot middle of the earth.
"Untie me." I wriggled against the cords, hands almost painfully numb. He just grinned and shook his head.
"You look good like that. I might just leave you there."
"I'll chew through," I threatened, scooting my ass up the carpet to put my teeth to the plastic.
"Don't!" He yelped and lunged for me, freeing the knots around my wrists. "Not only do I not want you to chew through my cords, the damn thing is plugged into the wall. I like you with all your teeth." He pulled me upright and stared at me hard for a little while, looking annoyed. "I'm going to think about that all night."
"Good thing you get to stand behind a bunch of equipment," I smirked, and caught a flash of grey out of the corner of my eye. Alice and Bob were watching us from the hallway. Both looked as though they weren't at all surprised by what we had just done on the living room floor, then Bob leaned over and licked Alice's ear, right in front of us. Alice flopped down on the floor and let Bob crawl all over her, purring loudly as her new girlfriend humped her leg.
Fucking lesbian cats.
They probably planned this.
"I want to come with you."
He was hauling equipment out the door, rolling up cords into neat little bundles and and gathering up microphones. Except for the t-shirt he'd been sporting last night, I was basically naked. I'd spent most of the day lounging in his bed with a couple of lesbians who licked each other from head to toe while completely ignoring me. The next-to-naked guy slept through most of it, oblivious to the soft-core porn happening at our feet, waking up twice to pin me to the bed.
I suckered him into telling me his name. Literally. With a blowjob.
He was Edward. Bob was still Bob, even though she had a more appropriate female name.
"Certainly fucking not," he huffed, shoving the last of his cords into his bag, my wrists throbbing back to life. I blinked away the visions of dirty bondage porn involving thin black cords and tried not to get offended.
"If I take you with me, you have to read me something you've written."
Damn, this guy made no apology for being demanding as fuck. "I don't think so."
"Then you're not going."
"Fine, I'll give you something," I huffed. "You can read it when I'm far, far away."
"No, I want you to read it to me. Out loud." He leered at me.
"Because I want to hear you say dirty things with that sexy smoker voice you've got going on."
"So that's why you like me, I sound like your cat?"
"Well, more like an eighty year old man but still, sexy. And you can't go out in that." He eyed the t-shirt skeptically and I was sure my hair wasn't in much better shape.
"Why not?" I tugged at the hem. "What if I put a belt on? Don't girls wear stuff like this?
"You don't get out much do you?"
I shook my head.
"You can't go out in that because I'm a DJ at a strip joint, Bella"
I didn't know when or how he'd learned my name, but he made it sound just as dirty as as all his other naughty words, dripping right off the end of his tongue.
The cats followed us back to my house to help pick me out a new outfit. Alice perched on top of my shoe rack, two bright eyes blinking from the dark while Bob quickly found the dirty laundry and made herself a nest.
In the end, it was Edward who dressed me.
"This. And this."
He was holding up the shortest thing I owned, a mini skirt with a bunch of birds printed all over it, and shirt that was technically see through. Sheer white and drapey and I put both on without a fight because he lay there on the floor the whole time, watching me. Licking his lips and looking downright fuckable on the carpet, trying to get a glimpse up my skirt for a while before he realized he was gonna be late for work.
Truth is, I didn't think strip joints could be classy, but any place that charges ten bucks a drink and has red velvet walls probably qualifies. Edward's club definitely had expensive drinks and velvet, and maybe a healthy amount of class, but not enough. He walked me right up to the bar and introduced me to a pretty blonde named Sammy who seemed completely surprised to see me there.
"Keep the girls off her, Sammy. She's mine." He gave me one last piercing look before stalking off toward the DJ booth while this beautiful Sammy looked at me like I had suddenly grown another hand. Right out of the middle of my forehead.
"I don't know what you did to him, honey, but he ain't never come in here acting like that. You best go sit your ass down and don't you dare talk to anyone." She pointed at the end of the bar and poured me a drink.
I watched him all night. Sort of. Watched him fiddle with knobs and cords and microphones and greet the crowd over a raucous roar of applause. I sipped drink after drink that I didn't order, each one pushed across the bar with a muttered 'this is from Edward,' getting slightly shit-faced. Watched the girls dance around and even found myself clapping politely along when some girl in a white thong finished her number, even though I couldn't have told you a single goddamn thing about her performance.
I wasn't at the club.
I was still on his living room floor.
Tied to his desk, wanting so much fucking more. Much, much more. By the time he was ready to leave, it was almost three a.m. and my poor vag was dying for some friction. I watched him shove equipment back into his car while I stood there beside him, playing with a roll of that black cord.
"I was thinking we could put these to work again," I stuttered, fiddling with the cord in my hands. Why was I so embarrassed? I'd let him tie me down and fuck me last night but now I could barely even ask for what I wanted. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head but gave me one of those sly smiles. The one that told me I probably wasn't going to get what I was asking for.
I was probably going to get much, much more.
"No way, sweet stuff," he winked at me. "We've got a reading to attend."
"I've never done this before."
"Well, first things first," Edward plopped down on my couch, looking completely out of place in my cluttered, homey cottage. "You should strip."
Definitely the kind of guy my dad warned me about.
"I don't think public speaking requires nakedness."
"This isn't public, baby. This is me and you. I want to hear your words for a change and I want you to be naked when you do it. And sitting on me," he added thoughtfully. "Preferably my face, but I'll give you my lap if you'd feel more comfortable."
He had the gall to wink at me.
"You might be bad for me," I teased turning away to pull a book off the shelf, but it was only half-hearted. He was a sure thing and I wanted to go down in flames.
"Probably. But you love it." Edward pulled me into his lap and tore my shirt off the moment I settled into place. "Goddamn, you are fucking hot," he exhaled, sounding a little breathtaken.
"You dressed me."
"Fuck the clothes. I like you a lot better without any interference." My tiny skirt rode up to make it blatantly obvious I wasn't wearing anything underneath. He might have picked the outfit, but he hadn't exactly known about that part.
"Motherfuck, you weren't wearing underwear? That whole time?" He gaped at me, jaw falling open for the second time in less than two minutes. I tried to give him the same cocky smile he was always giving me but couldn't tell if I did it right. He just shook his head at me in amazement and shoved his hands underneath the rumpled fabric to fondle my ass. "Doesn't matter. I had your old pair in my pocket all night." He winked at me. "They smell like you, but they sure don't taste as fucking good."
"You put them in your mouth?"
"Fuck yes. What are you reading from?" he asked, words strained through his jaw as his eyes roamed my neck.
"One of my favorites," I murmured, flipping through pages and trying my best to hide the cover from him. It was especially trashy, a Fabio-esque blonde dude clutching chick who looked suspiciously like Christina Ricci. She was wearing a dress about twelve times too small for her and they were rolling around on a white sand beach, his hand buried beneath her skirts, her face twisted with bliss. Or agony. It was kind of hard to tell, actually.
Edward leaned forward and hooked a finger in my bra, pulling the cup aside to lick my nipple.
"Read," he commanded.
I took a deep, unsteady breath and began.
I was still trembling, but I managed to roll the condom on, Eric groaning under my fingers. He really did have a beautiful dick, long and straight and perfect.
"Did you write this about me?" Edward grinned up at me, but I pressed a finger to his lips, shifting in his lap to shut him up, before continuing on. He groaned and gripped harder, breathing heavier by the moment, somehow managing to stay silent.
He sat up as I finished and pulled me into his lap, letting me sink slow and soft and patiently down onto him, savoring every moment and trying to burn it all into my memory. "Jesus Christ," he panted, clutching my ribs as our bones met. I could feel the quaking spasm that rolled across him, undulating like one of those monster waves way out in the middle of the ocean, sending my insides hurtling down the sheer-faced side of it. Eric flopped back against the mattress, his hands pulling me along and I hovered over him, our faces hidden in a veil of my hair. He dug his fingers into my hips, pushing me to my knees and thrusting his hips off the bed once I gave him the room. "Shit," he ground out, low and in the back of his throat, craning his neck to plant his lips to my collarbone, pulling out to press back in a little harder.
My words faltered as Edward silently mimed them, licking his lips with every uttered curse word, digging with his fingers and as good as fucking me with his eyes. Bucking his hips against mine and fingering my jaw. Moaning against my skin. I tried my fucking best to focus on the words, but my eyes were going blurry and I desperately wanted to just close them and get on with it. I knew what he was doing, trying to get me to give in. Give up. Toss my book away. Yank my skirt up, his jeans down, and fuck him on the couch like there was no hope of a tomorrow.
I valiantly struggled onward.
I could feel Anthony behind me, his thighs brushing the backs of my own and his mouth tracing my spine. A blistering kiss to every knob of my vertebra, soft and wet right that at the crack of my ass as his fingers slipped down over my cheeks, spreading me open. His breathing picked up as he watched Eric push into me, the pads of his fingers tracing all around the sensitive skin that was stretched around Eric's dick, searching momentarily for my clit and then dragging a slick of moisture up over my ass before setting his mouth down around me. Tongue skirting just shy of intrusion.
"There's two of them?" Edward pulled away to gape at me, looking more than pleased. "You're dirtier than I thought."
"This is fantasy," I reminded him.
"A fucking dirty one." He looked downright excited, grinning enthusiastically.
"I just write them," I shook my head and tried to sound firm. "Doesn't mean I actually want it." Truth was, I was fucking lying. I'd just never admitted it out loud. And I certainly didn't plan on doing that right now, either.
I sucked in a rushing gasp of air, blistering hot as though we were in the middle of an inferno, a stinging caustic mix that scorched my lungs. Eric pulled my ear into his mouth the same moment Anthony pushed a finger into my ass, way too fast and not nearly fast enough. Slippery and shell shocked while my knees trembled as he added another finger, Eric still sinking himself slow and deep. It was all so overwhelming. Every one of the fragile seams holding me together was straining under the effort and I was certain I hadn't used the right kind of thread when I did my repairs. That what I'd sewn myself up with wasn't strong enough to stand the pressure and should have been wax-coated or reinforced with steel. The first thread started to fray the moment Anthony deemed me ready.
"Ready for what exactly?" Edward asked, staring at me intently, still thrusting softly up against me. He was rock fucking hard, squashed deliciously between my thigh and my aching pussy and I ground myself right back down on him, enjoying the friction and the view.
The way his pulse thumped frantically underneath the curve of his jaw.
The way his jaw dropped open.
"Motherfuck," he murmured, pulling his fingers free and replacing them with his dick, the condom slick as he sunk himself slowly into me and jesusfuckingchrist, I unravelled like a spool of thread tossed down a never-ending staircase. Tumbling head over feet, end over end, glimpses of sky and earth and then sky again in a dizzying plummet over the edge. "Oh fuck. Anthony, I - I can - feel you," Eric stuttered, thrusting into me as Anthony pulled out and I knew exactly what he was talking about. The thin expanse of skin between them did basically nothing to separate and even I could practically feel them rubbing against one another. I moaned, dropping my chest to Eric's and breathing hard into his neck. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me close as Anthony pulled himself nearly free and timed his re-entry with Eric's. Giving and taking in unison.
"Holy fuck, stop," Edward gasped, clutching me close and trying his level best to fuck me right through his jeans and my underwear. Pleading with his lips to my tits. "Stop. Stop, fucking stop!"
"God, fuck yes. Just like that," Anthony growled into the air and I couldn't do anything but register the very basics. Two pairs of hands finger-tipping along my skin. The frantic rise and fall of Eric's chest beneath me and the steady urgent contact of Anthony's thighs against mine. Their timing thrown off so that one was pushing in while the other was pulling out and I couldn't tell which.
The way my blood went thermonuclear and my bones turned to dust.
"Goddamnit, Bella," Edward choked, pushing me off his lap and bolting to his feet. He fumbled frantically with his jeans and shoved them down his legs before hauling me off the couch. Clumsy fingers and lots of heavy breathing got me undressed and he picked me right up off the floor, gripping me by the ass again as I wound my legs and arms around him.
Book lying forgotten at our feet.
"I know you have a vibrator. Show it to me." His eyes were bright, voice nearly taunting and he shifted me hard against him, his dick smashed between us. "I bet it's pink, and soft and long."
He was accurately describing at least three quarters of my collection.
And making those innocent words sound even dirtier than I thought possible.
"Bedroom," I whispered against his mouth and let him carry me to through the house, bumping down the hallway in the dark with our lips sealed.
The sky was just started to lighten around the edges when I tiptoed out the door.
I'd stolen the blanket off the foot of his bed and made coffee like a stealth assassin. I thought I'd made it out undetected, but Bob scurried through my feet and plopped her ass down on the top step of the porch. Raspy mewling as though she'd missed our nightly meetings. I sat down beside her, scratching her ears, letting her worm her way onto my lap, and smoking while the sun rose.
Alice was still in bed with Edward, which wasn't surprising. She was kind of a slut too.
A bisexual slut.
"You know, I think you saw this coming," I said to the cat and she looked up at me, orange and gold, practically nodding her head. "Well, thanks for that. Your human is pretty . . ."
I dunno, what? Hot as fuck? Hung like a horse? Really fucking good at making me scream his name?
I was not completely sober when I wrote this. It was also three thirty a.m.
This was supposed to be a threesome, but it turned into this. Don't ask, see above fact if you're still confused.
Bob is real, he showed up a few days ago and never fucking leaves. My new neighbor is sadly not a hot boy with a filthy mouth, but an old lady with a hearing problem.
The porn passages Bella reads out loud are from another one of my fics, The Other Way, ever so slightly altered to protect the innocent. I can do that, 'cause they're my words.
Hadley Hemingway is the shit.