Dior Rob Contest
Title: Silver Rain
Summary: Sometimes you break the rules. But what happens when the consequences come back to bite you? What instinct will you listen to; fight or flee?
Prompt used: #5, #6 and #7
The wind blew softly through his hair as he gazed out over the quiet night of the city. His hands were clenched on top of the brick-wall railing to keep from roaming through his copper locks; with the stress currently on his mind, he'd be bald before the morning came.
Lights flickered in the background near the door that led out to the rooftop rise, playing with the vision that he saw before his eyes.
Her beautiful face.
A tender smile touched his pale lips as he pictured her laughter caressing his weary mind. The way her coffee-brown eyes lit up when he stroked the velvety skin beneath her knees, or her stubborn insistence that she could hold her entire body weight on the tips of her toes.
She had been the exact right brand of crazy for him.
The sensation of movement in his pocket told him that someone had finally noticed his absence, but he let his phone ring, not moving nor reacting to anything but the image of captivating beauty in his mind's eye.
He let a barrage of memories assault his tired mind, trying to burn her into his brain so that she would never abandon him again.
The first time he laid eyes on her, twirling happily under the morning sun.
The blanket of darkness that illuminated her pale, luminescent skin as he met her under the stars for their first date.
Her gritty moans of satisfaction as he entered her for the first time.
Each picture was scorched into his mind, branding it in their endless love as he forcefully attempted to keep the most recent images away.
But it was no use.
The first few rays of sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the curtains as they lay intertwined on the bed, simply listening the each other's breathing and soaking up as much peace as possible, before it was broken.
But someone had to speak the forbidden words.
"I have to go," she whispered, her eyes trained solely on his chest to keep from breaking down. "He'll come looking for me soon."
Lifting up the hand not attached to hers, he ran his fingers through her soft hair. "And what happens if he doesn't find you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Brown finally met green, as a tear slipped down her cheek. "Let's never find out," she whispered back, memorizing each plane of his face, as she did every time.
When a sigh was let out into the still of the room, neither could have said who it came from, as her naked body rose from the bed and tip-toed across the carpet floors. He sat up and reclined against the headboard, attempting to appear casual, while his heart broke just a little bit more beneath his chest.
Green eyes watched in admiration and awe while the soft, pale fabric flowed like silk down her bare skin as she slipped her way into the light beige gown. The jewelry that had been carelessly thrown to the ground the night before, as they had worried only about each other, was now, once more, adorning her lobes, neck and long fingers.
He couldn't watch anymore, as she prepared to leave him behind... again.
Sliding down the bed, he pulled the sheets with him until he was dejectedly hunched over himself on the carpeted floor below. His back rested softly against the side of the bed, facing away from the sunny window on the other side as he bravely attempted to keep in the tears that were begging to flow.
"Edward," her satiny voice whispered, filled with her ache for him.
Moments later, he felt a dip in the carpet below him and a sensation of cloth pressed against his naked side. The tips of her fingers traced across his spine, leaving traces of heat and love in their path.
"Don't be like this, honey, you know I have no choice," she murmured into his skin as she laid her chin on top of his shoulder.
He wanted to reply to her words and say that there was always a choice; that they could be together if she wasn't so scared, but he knew he couldn't.
He was scared, too.
The hand that wasn't caressing his back came to lay on top of his knee, and he stared down at it for what felt like hours. He'd always been so captivated by her hands; the way they flew about as she told him an exciting story. How they clenched into whiteness when she was upset or trembled with need when he worshiped her body with his mouth.
Without even realizing it, he lifted his own hand to place atop hers and turned his head to look into her eyes. She raised her own head from his shoulder and gazed back. There was only love and a touch of regret buried in those chocolate orbs.
"When this door closes behind me," she whispered, squeezing his knee tightly. "You will go take a shower, get dressed and return to your apartment."
His eyes filled up with unshed tears, as he quietly listened to the words that were meant to be soothing, yet was anything but.
"You will go to work in the morning, spend time with your friends and have Sunday brunch with your parents," she continued, her voice shaking with the efforts to keep it even. "You will not pick up your phone every ten minutes and wonder why I haven't contacted you yet. You will not question my love for you. And you will not drown your sorrows in a bottle of Scotch before drunkenly dialing my number and risking everything we have been working toward these past six months."
All he could do was nod in response, knowing she was right.
It had been too dangerous the last time.
She turned her hand around and intertwined her fingers with his before sighing in contentment and leaning her head back against the bed. She didn't want to leave things like this and didn't want this to be the memory he carried with him until the next time they met.
"How is work going?" she asked lightly, watching their hands intently, as they moved through the spots of sunlight coming from behind.
He sighed and rubbed his free hand over his cheek. "It's fine. Although, one of these days, I really think I'm going to strangle Rosalie." His voice held no emotion as he tried to adhere to her wishes of normality before the peace was broken.
She let out a small snort. "What did she do this time?"
"Accidentally switched two files around, which almost cost one of our clients his freedom. The judge agreed to an extension at the last minute, though."
"And why was she hired again?"
He let out a humorless chuckle. "Because she looked great on paper and, during the interview, Emmett leaned over and whispered how much he wanted the chance to 'do' her. I should have known that she only graduated Harvard Law because of her family's money and power."
"Well, you know what they say," she squeezed his hand, knowing that this would be some of her last words to him for a while. She wanted to see his beautiful smile. "Light travels faster than sound. That's why some people appear bright until you hear them speak."
It did the trick even if it was just a slight upturning of his lips and the barely-heard sound of his pleased chuckle.
Until the next time, it was enough.
Within less than five minutes, she was gone, and he was all alone in the room, sitting on the soft floor and wondering when he would see her again.
Wondering when her husband would let her out of his sight.
It had been another three weeks until they had once more made love, and then that morning scene had been repeated again. Each time they said goodbye, another little piece of his heart broke, but it was better than getting nothing at all.
At least he knew that he had her love, if not her hand in marriage or her warm body in his bed every night.
That had to count for something, right?
His body hunched over the arms that rested on the brick wall as he peered down the side of the tall building, squinting his eyes to try and see the pavement below. It was too far, though, and all he saw was the dim, faraway light of the lampposts and, the yellow beams of the passing cars.
A few buildings over, his eyes fell on an ad for a new fragrance, and he found himself wondering if she would like it. Would the smell irritate her button nose, or would she empty the bottle in less than three months? Would she only wear it for special occasions or use it every day?
Thoughts like these always hit him when he least expected it. Whether he was sitting in his office going over important files, in the middle of a meeting with the board, Sunday dinners with his family. All relatively normal events of his life were dotted all over with the depression of not having her beside him.
And so he wondered what she did.
Just as he had done the very first time he laid eyes on her.
The night had run longer than he expected, but in the end, it had all been worth it. At next week's meeting, he could now inform the bosses that he had landed one of their biggest clients in ten years. If that didn't put him in the running for partner in less than three years, he was at a loss for what else to do.
Loosening his tie, he blinked his tired eyes and gently removed his suit jacket. He was in need of a good night's sleep, but it wouldn't be possible just yet. Dawn was rising in the distance and he had to be back at work in less than three hours. All he had time for was a quick shower, a change of clothes and some breakfast.
Folding the jacket over his arm, he put his hands in his pockets and casually strolled through the quiet, early morning, still thinking about his nightly success. He walked past closed shops and restaurants, sobering youths sleeping on benches and the occasional night-worker returning home.
He almost felt like whistling under his breath; it had been awhile since he had been in such a good mood.
The first rays touched his skin and he felt it heat him up, refreshing him for the start of a new day. As he turned the corner down the avenue, the first thing his eyes fell on was the same as always, that fountain in the middle of the square that was always flowing, regardless of the morning hours.
And that's when he saw her.
Clad in a deep-blue, satin gown, which seemed out of sorts in the picture she was painting for him, she danced around the fountain square, a bright smile on her lips, and a spark of joy in her eyes.
Her hands lifted into the air as she twirled under the dawning sun, stiletto heels clasped in one hand and a cigarette in the other. From the distance, he could not tell the color of her eyes, but he knew that, given the chance, they would enrapture him beyond what anything had ever done before.
His thoughts swirled around in his head, new and unfamiliar. Was she a visitor from a foreign land of which she was the princess? Did she hail from a long line of tempting nymphs? Or was she simply celebrating a success, as he was, with a night on the town with her friend; the waif-like girl who was dancing beside her, giggling every now and then.
His mind filled with thoughts like these: wondering where she came from, what she was thinking as she danced and the all-too familiar, corny phrase, where had she been all of his life?
Without noticing it, his feet began to move forward, captivated by her spellbinding movements, and before he knew it he was close enough to recognize the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.
Her tiny friend was the first one to notice his presence as she suddenly stopped in mid-move and threw him a warm, but cautious smile. Her dark-green eyes flickered over to her friend as if warning her that someone was near.
But she had already noticed him herself.
"Hello, there," she said, a bewitching smile sent his way. "Isn't it a lovely morning?"
And it truly was.
By the time he had returned home that same day, he no longer cared too much about the client he had landed or the response his bosses would give him. All he could think about was her; Isabella Carter.
Along with her friend, Alice, they had talked his ear off until people had begun arriving on the fountain square, ready to open their businesses and start their day. And he had learned that she was, indeed, out celebrating.
But her answer threw him as it would seem only friendship would be in their future.
Her husband had won a prestigious award at a fancy dinner where Isabella had spent the night engaged in political conversation with the mayor of our fair city. She had exclaimed loudly how droll the whole thing had been, and that the highlight of her night had come when her husband hadn't minded that she didn't join him in the limo as he returned home.
Somehow, Isabella and her friend had wound up walking through the city, until they ended up at the fountain square.
And he had secretly agreed that it was a definite highlight for him as well.
His smile was brighter and more real now as he gazed out over the sky where the sun slowly rose in the distance. It struck him, then, how most of the memories that involved his love had happened during the dawn hours of the day. Good or bad, it didn't matter; it was always in the veil between night and day.
Just as his final memory had been.
A lone tear slipped unbidden down his cheek, but he was too far gone to even reach up and swipe it away. He was lost to the image of her frightened eyes as he finally lost her to the monster he had feared for so long.
The one that had always been hiding in the shadows each time they showed their love for one another.
The water was already warm even when he first got in. He immediately dipped his entire body under the surface before coming back up for air, searching for her as he broke through. She stood at the edge, teasing him with her near-naked form, as she, step-by-step, walked slowly into the blue water.
"Why don't we see if you can catch me," she said, a spark of play in her eyes and a smirk on her lips.
"And what do I get if I win?" he asked, putting on an air of indifference as he slowly moved toward her.
She swam behind him so quickly that he didn't notice. "Me," she whispered in his ear, her breath hot on his wet skin. And then she was gone again.
He turned around with a smile, watching as she pressed herself against the other side of the pool. Her palms were flat against the white tiles, a come-hither stare in her dark eyes as she watched him slowly approach her, bit by bit.
As he walked toward her, he slipped slowly out of his swimwear, and a sheen of lust passed over her eyes as she saw his movements through the clear-blue of the water. A wicked smile flashed on her lips as she slipped out of her bikini, throwing it to the dry tiles behind her.
As she floated in the wetness, he felt captivated by the rise and fall of her chest and the sight of those hardened nipples, peaking out over the water's edge. Restraining himself from rushing to her that instant, he forcefully kept up the slow and steady pace, wanting her as wet with want for him as possible once he finally reached her side.
He quickly noted that, with each step that took him ever closer, her eyes darkened just a little bit more, and her exposed skin heated with her need for him. A few more heavy footsteps and he was close enough to touch.
"Now that you have me," she spoke as the tips of his fingers touched her skin. "What are you going to do?"
But all he did was smile wickedly as he closed the air of distance between them and swallowed her up in his arms.
When their lips first touched, a shot of warmth coursed through their bodies and want turned into need which turned into a flaming demand for satisfaction. By the time their mouths had asked for permission, their hands had already roamed every inch of each other's body.
A coarse touch against her inner thigh broke whatever restraint she had on herself, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, silently guiding him inside her.
Taking the slow, gentle approach, he languidly moved his hips as he stared deep into her eyes and waited for the moment that always came; it was the one where her eyes widened slightly, her lips rounded and she let out a breathless gasp.
Once he had seen what he wanted, he let his head fall down onto her pale shoulder, clenching his eyes shut and allowing himself to feel exactly what was going on around him. Literally.
The sensation that flowed through him was the same as it had been since the first night they had spent together; more astounding and staggering than anything had ever made him feel before.
Like they were made to fit together.
After all, there was a reason that clichés existed,
They rested together in the corner of the pool until the feeling returned to their muscles and they were capable of movement again. Both faces were painted with a small, satisfied smile as they moved toward the stairs still connected in at least two places of their bodies.
Not a word was spoken as they dried off, dressed and simply basked in the afterglow of their night.
It was always like this before the peace was broken. Before they woke in each other's arms, only to realize that night had given way to day, and she would have to return to another's arms. Before he was left alone in a room that didn't belong to him to deal with the heartache of her absence.
But this night would be different; it would change it all.
Giggling under her breath, she slowly buttoned up his shirt before he even noticed that it was missing. There he stood, clad only in his jeans and a t-shirt, staring at the vision that was his love in his clothing. In return, she wore nothing but his crisp white shirt as her underwear lay discarded by the pool door.
But soon the moment was broken, and they were desperate to return to their room and continue their night before it was too late.
"Huh," she said, suddenly, staring at an empty spot on the tile floor.
"What is it?" he asked, stepping closer to her, a frown on his face.
"I could have sworn that this was where I left my thong," she replied, trying not to smile at the look on his face when she spoke the final word.
"You did," was the response, but it didn't come from her love.
She gasped into the echoing room as she twisted around, only to find a familiar form stepping out of the shadows, twirling her underwear around on his finger.
Edward instinctively stepped in front of his love, protecting her from the stone-faced appearance of her husband as the dirty-blond man walked along the length of the pool until he stood just in front of the half-naked couple.
"Look," Edward spoke, wondering how they were going to get out of this one. "I know that what we've been doing is wrong, but no matter what you're feeling right now, I won't let you hurt her. Just step back, and we can handle this like level-headed adults, okay?"
"I don't think so, Mr. Cullen," James replied, enjoying the look of shock on their faces when they realized that he knew more than they thought. "I've been watching you for quite some time now, watching you with my wife. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Do you think so little of me, Isabella?" He raised an eyebrow, daring her to respond.
All she did was shake her head and bite her lip, knowing her husband enough by now to recognize what he wasn't saying. Her entire body began to shake, remembering the words he had whispered to her three years ago, when an old friend of hers had come back into her life.
She had grown up with Jacob Black, and there wasn't the slightest romantic feeling between them, but still, James had become jealous and possessive. Before she knew it, Jake had been offered a huge job opportunity but on the other side of the country, and Isabella had known instantly who was behind it.
Especially later that same night when they had made love, and he had leaned down to whisper in her ear. "If I can't have you, no one can."
At the time, she hadn't thought much of it; she had still loved her husband and would have never considered cheating. But they had grown apart. She had met Edward when she was least expecting it, and now she was reminded of the fierceness with which those words had been spoken.
And she knew that he had meant every word then as much as he still did in this moment.
They were in trouble.
"Now," James spoke, bringing her attention back to the room. "The question is what's going to happen. The two of you have been embarrassing me for months, going behind my back and making me look a fool. I don't take too kindly to people who underestimate me. So, as I watched you here tonight, flaunting your silly little affair, I thought about the perfect punishment for each of you."
Isabella looked up at the frightened but powerful face of the man she loved as she considered the same things that her husband may have. She knew how much Edward loved his job, how much power James held in this city, and she wondered what the blond would see as the best penalty for their adultery.
But she wasn't even close.
"I finally figured out what would hurt you as much as you have hurt me. So, we can either do this quickly, get it over with, and everyone can move on with their lives, or you can give me trouble, and force me to do things I'm really not in the mood for. What will it be?" In the course of this entire speech, his face had never changed, and he spoke as if he was conversing with an old friend he met on the streets of Seattle.
"What do you want from us?" Isabella asked, congratulating herself on her lack of stutter as her body still trembled in fear.
James nodded, satisfied with her question. "I want you to step over here to me, Isabella. I'll need your boy-toy to stay where he is if you think you can control him," he said, eyes frosting over a bit as he glared at Edward.
Before he could protest, Isabella turned to him, laying a hand on his arm. "It's okay, don't worry. He's not going to hurt me," she whispered, sounding more sure than she was.
All he could do was nod in response and watch as she slowly made her way across the tiles, to where her husband stood, still clenching her panties in his right fist.
"Very good, Isabella. I see that you haven't forgotten about me completely. Now, here's what's going to happen." As he finished speaking, he grabbed his wife by her arms, lifted her up and threw her in the water.
"No!" Edward cried out, in shock, as he hurried to jump in after her.
James calmly dropped the thong onto the bag by the door, walked around the pool where he grabbed a long pole, before returning to the spot where Edward and Isabella were now swimming, trying to get back to the edge.
Two pairs of eyes stared up at the composed and quiet man who stood above them, finally beginning to realize where this night would end. A smile flashed across James' face as he began to raise the pole in his hand, preparing to strike down.
Leaving the two lovers wondering who would be first.
A deep, crimson wave began to spread out over the previously blue water as her body began to sink lower and lower into the wetness. Her arms were stretched out at her sides, and her face filled with more peace than should be possible at that moment.
As she came to a stop at the bottom of the pool, Isabella's murderer turned to her secret lover as he threw down the bloody pole. "Your punishment is very simple. You must live out the rest of your life with the guilt of what happened here tonight. Have a nice life, Mr. Cullen."
And he had walked across the room and out of the door, leaving Edward with nothing but the corpse under water and a shredded heart.
He wondered if, by now, her body had been found. If the poolroom at the hotel was swarming with uniformed officers? If her family had been contacted? Was James pretending to mourn her at this very moment? Was he giving support to her friends in the wake of this grievous loss?
Did they see through his mask into the monster beneath?
His shoulders shook with wretched sobs as he once more imagined her last moments of life. He had gone over it all night; what he could've done differently? Why James hadn't taken his final breaths instead of hers? But he already knew the answer to that, after all, he had been told.
It was his punishment, just as death was hers.
From the moment he stepped out of the hotel, to when he found himself on this particular rooftop, he thought about telling someone what had happened. But from the first thought, he knew it wouldn't be possible.
Regardless of how talented a lawyer he was or how big the firm he worked for was, James Carter was a million times more powerful. He would crush him.
Edward would probably end up going away for Isabella's murder.
So he was out of choices.
He couldn't bring her back. He couldn't put her murderer to justice. He couldn't tell anyone what had happened. What could he do?
That part he had already figured out.
Calmly, he pushed away from the brick wall, sliding his suit jacket off his shoulders and folding it up. Underneath was only a dirty white t-shirt as his love was still wrapped in his shirt at the bottom of the pool. He laid the jacket on the ground beneath him, placing his tie on top.
His head tipped back and he stared up into the lightening sky, thinking of all those dawn memories involving his love. Mornings spent wrapped around each other as they basked in their requited passion and their endless devotion toward each other.
As he crawled on top of the brick wall, arms stretched out at his sides, eyes closed and hair fluttering in the wind, only one thought came to him before he stepped forward.
James Carter would not win.
"Are you sure this is what you want," he asked as his hand pushed some hair behind her ear.
She smiled softly. "As cruel as it may sound, yes, I'm sure. It's not about getting from you what I don't get from my husband. It's not about revenge or making him realize that he's neglecting me,"
Before she could finish, he did it for her. "It's about love."
Her eyes lit up with her emotions as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Exactly."
Show the author some love in the form of a review! In order to keep the contest fair, we ask that you pimp the contest as a whole, not just individual entries. If you do happen to know an authors identity, please do not hint towards this in your review, as this can lead to disqualification. Dont forget to put us on author alert to be notified of new stories.
Public Voting will open November 6th/7th and run until November 20th