EPOV
I press my lips to Bella’s again.
“Don’t go,” I murmur.
She groans. “I have to go.”
“No you don’t,” I say, letting my tongue touch her lips. “Stay here a little while longer.”
She grins, but pulls away. “I have to go, baby. I promised Charlie.”
I sigh and step back, holding only onto her hands. “What time will you be at the dance?”
She laughs, and it’s this musical, magical sound. I need to make her laugh more often. “I’ll be there when the dance starts.”
“You’re not going to be fashionably late?”
“Please, even showing up fashionably late won’t help me when I’ve got Mike Newton next to me,” she says, rolling her eyes.
She presses her lips to mine once, quickly, and grins.
“I’ll see you later,” I say.
“Later…” she says, swinging those fine hips as she walks down the front steps.
God, this woman’s hold on me is ridiculous. I watch as she gets into Alice’s car, blows me a kiss, and disappears out of sight.
My hand is still up in front of my chest, where I caught her kiss, five minutes after she’s pulled away.
Bella. My Bella. I can’t stop thinking about her. How can a situation so dangerous make me feel so safe? When I’m with her…it feels like nothing in the world can come between us. She is mine. I am hers.
I walk back inside, but my house feels empty without her. I call it our home because, truly, it only feels like a home when she’s here. The rooms feel barren without her, devoid of any life and meaning. I sink onto the couch, realizing the knit throw on it still smells of her. I inhale deeply.
Fuck, I’m hard. This is what she does to me.
Growing up, I never went through the phase of jerking off three or four times a day like some guys do. When I was in college, and getting laid all the time, I hardly ever masturbated.
Since meeting Bella I do so three times a day, regularly. And that doesn’t even include any orgasms I have with Bella over the course of the day. I’ve become insatiable.
I stroke my hand over my jeans once, hissing at the contact. I’m painfully hard, and I really don’t feel like moving. I rub my hand up and down against the seam a few times, until finally, sighing, I cave and rip them open.
As I’m moving the denim to the side, a flash of lime green catches my eye. What the…?
I reach into my pocket, and realize Bella’s lace panties from the night before are still in there. I vaguely remember shoving them into my pocket when I took them from her body, before burying myself between my legs. Jesus Christ, the vision of her on my counter top, spread wide, has my dick weeping.
I hold the lace up to my face and inhale.
Bella.
Pure, unadulterated, Bella. The heavy scent of her arousal is concentrated in this small patch of lace, and I hold it reverently, my fingers tracing the contours and textures of the fabric. I grip the panties in my left hand, letting my right hand wrap around my cock. I’m so fucking hard.
I hold the lace between my fingers, fondling it as I stroke myself roughly. I need this. Flashes of Bella cut through my mind as I inhale her scent and rub my fingers compulsorily.
Bella’s hair. Bella’s neck. The sound Bella makes when I bite her neck. Bella’s lips. Bella’s lips on my lips. Bella’s lips on my cock.
Fuck, that’s a good one.
Bella’s lips on my chest. Bella’s pussy lips. Bella’s pussy. Fuck, Bella’s wet, throbbing, pussy. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bella’s pussy on my hand. Bella’s pussy on my lips. Bella’s pussy around my dick.
I’m rubbing the panties against my shaft now, both hands stroking up and down as I grit my teeth, desperate for release.
Bella’s tits. Bella’s tits bouncing as she rides my—
What the fuck? What is that sound? My phone is ringing. Whatever. I’ll call whoever it is back.
But then, I register the ring tone and realize it’s Bella calling. Fuck, yes.
I keep one hand wrapped securely around my dick, and the other clicks the screen on my phone, setting it to speaker.
“Uggggh,” I say, unable to get a word out.
Silence is on the other end.
“Edward?” Bella asks, after a moment.
“Fuck, Bella,” I breathe, barely finishing her name. My hands are flying up and down now, squeezing and twisting and rubbing the lace against my skin so hard I’m gonna chafe if I don’t come soon.
“Holy fuck,” she breathes into the phone. “Are you touching yourself?” she asks, her voice low.
“Yes,” I say.
“God, I wish I could see you right now,” she says in a husky voice. “I love watching the way you touch yourself.”
“Ughhh…yessss,” I hiss, pumping faster.
“Are you pretending it’s my hand?” she asks softly. “Or maybe my mouth? Or my pussy?”
Jesus Christ, I’m gonna come if she keeps talking like this.
“Bella,” I moan.
“Or maybe…are you pretending it’s my ass?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“FUCK!” I call out, coming all over the beautiful, lime green panties and myself. Shit. The idea of being inside of Bella’s ass…holy fuck…and hearing her say it…well, it’s burned in my memory.
Is that something she wants? Would she really do that?
Bella is giggling on the other end, amused with my reaction. “Well that did the trick,” I hear her say.
My heart is pounding in my ears, and I can’t slow down my breathing. Fuck.
After a minute, I’ve used the lace to clean myself up (Sorry, Bella) and I can speak coherently. “Sorry,” I laugh.
“That’s okay,” she says. “That was way hotter than I thought this call was going to be.”
I laugh. “Why did you call? I’m sure it wasn’t only to practice your phone sex skills,” I tease.
“I actually just called because I think I left my wallet there. Could you bring it tonight?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
“I think it’s in your bathroom. I took it out of my bag this morning when I was looking for my hairbrush.”
“I’ll bring it,” I say.
“Okay,” Bella breathes. “Well, I have to go. Charlie is downstairs waiting for me to make lunch. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“If you miss me, you can see me sooner,” I hint.
I can hear her smile through the phone. “If I miss you, I’ll call you.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
I sigh and lean back against the couch, at ease after my climax and hearing my girl’s voice again.
The house phone rings, and I laugh, answering it before the first ring is done. “Miss me already?” I say to Bella.
“Edward?” My mother asks. Whoops.
“Hi Mom.”
“I did miss you. How did you know?” she asks, laughing.
“Sorry, I thought you were Bella,” I admit. I love being able to talk about her so freely.
“How is Bella?”
“She’s…” smoking hot? A freak in bed? “Good.”
“I actually was calling because I wanted to make sure we’re still on for next weekend,” she says. She sounds like she’s doing something else as she talks… cooking? It sounds like the stove is on.
“Next weekend?”
“Yes, for your trip to Seattle,” she reminds me.
Oh shit, that’s right. I’d forgotten the girls had agreed to visit next weekend. Is that still on? “I don’t know, Mom. I’ll check with Bella. I assume we’re still on.”
“Great! We’re all looking forward to it!”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, and I are looking forward to it,” she corrects.
“Rosalie?”
“Say what you want about her, Edward, but she’s spent the last week repainting the guest room for you two. She might say she doesn’t like you dating Bella, but she certainly wants to make a good impression.”
Huh. Interesting. “Okay, anything else?”
“Carlisle,” my Mom calls. “Edward is on the phone. Would you like to speak to him?”
I can’t hear his reply, but just the general tenor is enough to tell me he’s not going to pick up the phone. “It’s fine, Mom.”
“No, it’s not dear. I’m sorry,” she says.
“It’s only been a week,” I say, even though I know that’s no excuse.
“So what are you and Bella doing tonight?” she asks, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to ask what my high-school-student-girlfriend and I are up to.
“Actually, there is a school dance tonight. Homecoming,” I explain. I get up and move to the laundry room, where I toss Bella’s panties into the wash.
“Oh! What is Bella wearing? Are you coordinating what you wear?”
“Mom, are you serious? I’m not her date. And I’m not 15.”
“Oh,” she laughs. I hear a pan drop in the sink. “Of course not. I just thought that maybe you’d do something like that anyway…you know, just for you.”
Shit, should I have offered that? Should I have acted like her “date” without being her “date”?
“I didn’t even think of that,” I admit.
“Did you at least get her some flowers?”
Fuck. No. “Ah, I will,” I say. “I’ve gotta go, Mom. I need to get ready.”
“Okay, dear. Tell Bella I said hi.”
“I will. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.”
She hangs up and I run my hand through my hair. Shit. I need some flowers.
But first, I need a shower.
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