Chapter 23: Naughty and Nice


Edward smiles as he walks out of the bathroom. I'm lying on his bed. The comforter is rolled down. My back is touching the cool sheets. I'm sideways. I wanted to face him when he came in. I lift one of my legs and wave my toes at him. Red and white striped stocking are pulled up to my thighs. There is fluffy white stuff on the tops, resembling Santa's hat. Other than these and the mistletoe headband on my head; I'm bare.

I sit up; palms flat on the mattress and keep my legs spread. I want him to see me. All of me. He does. I see him, too. His chest is bare and beautiful. He leans his palms next to mine. His face is just inches away. I arch my back, jutting my chest out and show him the red and white candies painted on my nipples. Edible. Supposed to taste minty and like Christmas morning.

"Candy?" I offer and the corner of his mouth lifts. He lowers his face and surrounds my nipple with his warm lips. His tongue is flat against my breast and his mouth slowly sucks the painted-on candy away. There is a soft sound of suction as he lets off. All clean. I shift my weight, rocking to my other side and offer him the second one. He palms my breast this time, squeezing it in his strong hand. The sensation is increased as he sucks slower this time. I am given sweet, heavenly kisses on my nipple and then once on my lips.

"How did I get so lucky, Bella?" He whispers.

I pull the mistletoe headband off and place it on him. "I wonder that everyday myself."

He kisses me again. I lean back as it grows intense. I'm on my elbows. His hands push my legs apart. His mouth travels from mine, to my neck, between my breasts, my belly and then stops. I'm watching him, because he's fucking beautiful. He looks at up at me. His eyes are dark and I love his long lashes. The smirk returns to his face. He bends the candy cane on his head and now the mistletoe part is dangling in between my legs.

"I suppose I have to kiss here, too." His tongue is flat and warm against my smooth skin. I am given slow, long licks that are so goddamn good they are painful. He knows just how to use the tip of his tongue below my clit and above my entrance. He knows how tease the outside of my pussy and make my legs quiver with anticipation. He taunts me and makes me squirm until I beg for him to relive my need.

I'm clawing at his hair, his neck, his arms – whatever I can get my hands on. My chest is heaving and I am speaking nonsense, though, it's all very relevant. He slides up the bed and hovers over me. He makes me look at him – like I'd look anywhere else – and holds my gaze.

"You're so damn beautiful, Bella." His middle finger slips into me. "So sexy." He adds another finger and I'm gone. I need more, but it's all too much. He tastes his fingers and then lowers his bottoms. I spread my legs; feet flat on the edge of the bed. His palms rest at my sides and the weight of cock is on me. It finds its way in as I move my hips and he pushes forward.

There is a mouth at my ear and I am panting and calling his name. The voice is saying my own and I just keep asking for more. I love him saying my name. I love him inside of me. I press my feet to his back and want more.








Why is there laughter?

"Bella." My body is shaking. "Bella, wake up."

Edward is gone. He slips away. The feeling between my legs disappears and I am empty. No. No, no, no. Come back. I'm still shaking. My eyes blink open and I see Edward again, only this Edward isn't naked. I glance around. He is smiling, but it's not sexy. Not like in my dream. Where is my Edward?

"You fell asleep on the couch. Well, we both did. It's early morning." He flips the TV off and I am completely fucking confused. I sure as hell picked the wrong day not to drink. "I'm going to get ready for work."

I sit up and he heads towards the stairs. I don't miss the smile on his face before he turns away. Damn dreams. I fall back down to the couch. I sigh. Damn erotic fantastic fucking dreams.

Edward leaves for work at his normal time. I start my usual shit. The floors are swept and the kitchen is clean. I pull all the linens and place them in the laundry room. A separate pile of whites and darks. Edward's clothes in a third pile. I toss in a load and move onto cleaning his bathroom and bedroom. It's pretty clean for the most part. I'm glad. There is only a few sticky drops of toothpaste in the sink and water-spots on the mirror. Nothing disgusting. I dust his fan and vacuum his bedroom.

I make sure the movies in his collection are neat, along with a stack of magazines. Curiosity gets me and I start looking at front covers and titles. Mostly action movies and health magazines. Nothing too….oh, looky here. Tucked inside one of the magazines, is a different magazine. A dirty magazine. Edward isn't so saintly, after all. Nice. I flip through the first couple pages and check out the girls. Typical bimbos. Nothing too risqué. I wonder which one he's pleasured himself to. The busty chick on page thirteen; that's where I'm putting my money.

I put them back and head downstairs. The washing cycle is done. I load the dryer and move onto the living room. The stupid tree needs water and I pick up another round of tinsel from the floor. The present with my name is staring at me. I sit on the piano bench and star back at it. I can't imagine what he could have bought. He doesn't even know me. Fuck, I'm tired. I roll my neck around. My muscles are tight. Sleeping on the couch was stupid. My eyes catch the book on the piano. He's not home. I am snooping like a snooping motherfucker. The book is full and I wonder when the last time something was written. I wonder if it is because the book is full. Tanya. Or if the inspiration has just been lost.

Everything in the house is done. It's getting late and dark and Edward won't be home. I'm bored and it's a little weird. I'm used to being alone, but it's weird. I watch some TV and then take a shower. I'm tired, but can't sleep. It's early, but not late enough. It's still snowing outside and I watch from the kitchen window. It looks nice. I like it. In my boredom, I go snooping, again. Just the living room, this time. I poke at books and check out the movies. I look at the cedar trunk in the corner of the room and laugh at myself when I'm too afraid to open it. I do open it, though. It's empty except for a blanket. I pull it out and something rattles at the bottom of the chest.

I set the blanket aside. There is a box. I pick it up and lift the lid. I sit on the couch and rifle through it. So, this is where the pictures are. She's pretty. Too pretty. Her eyes are wide. Her hair is light. Her skin is cream and peaches. Straight teeth. Large breasts. Long legs. She's leaning back on the lawn. Her chin towards the sky. This has nothing on bimbos in magazines. This woman is fucking gorgeous. I'd be pissed off and bitter, too. I'd be desolate and roam alone. What could top this? I keep flipping through the photos. Now there is two people. He was fucking handsome. Dressed in black and white. She's all white. And the flowers. Fuck, the same flowers. Shiny hair, shiny shoes; they were a match. Their lips are touching and they are a fucking match.

Behind the pictures are letters. Love letters. Some from him, some from her and I am so wrong for looking. I only skim. I swear to myself it is somehow not as bad. I'm a liar. He doesn't write like a doctor. His script is legible and perfect. I can see and feel each word. She was damn lucky. She returns his words and adds her own. There are cards and small token of things I have no knowledge of. A sea shell. A ticket to a movie. A receipt for dinner. Significant things that are other wise insignificant on there own. But in this box….in this box they mean everything and yet, perhaps nothing at all.

Not anymore.

I put the box and blanket away. I go up to my room and crawl in bed. My eyes want to close, but it's too quiet and my heart feels too heavy. My heart feels. Just feels. It's new and it's unfamiliar and I don't know what the feeling is, but it just lays there next to me and doesn't fade away in the morning.


Edward is working another double. I only saw him for two minutes this morning. He is on his cell phone, pouring coffee and trying to gather his things all at the same time. I pick up his keys when he drops them. He mouths thank you and then he is gone.


There isn't much to do. I've been the only person here and I don't make much of a mess. I go over the floors and give a quick dusting to all the rooms. The snow has let up some. I put on my boots and I need to get out of here for awhile. It's a long way into town, but I need it. The air and cold actually feels good. I eat some shit off a street vendor and it tastes amazing. I'm so tired of eating Edward's rabbit food.

I find a small store and look around. They sell used stuff. Odd things. Cool things. Unique things. There is knickknacks and furniture pieces. Clothing. Art. Items behind the counter; under glass. The clerk asks me if I need help. I don't. My feet wander around and I find something on a shelf. It is by itself. There is a light coating of dust on the outer cover. I take it into my hands and slide my finger under the first few pages. It's bare. Nothing but yellow paper that used to be white. It is abandoned and dusty. It is lonely and needs a partner.

It is perfect.


Another boring day. I arrange all the candy his drawer into piles and groups. I organize the cabinets and pantry and he'll probably think I am insane and like that weird ex-husband Julia Robert's had in Sleeping with the Enemy. I leave the towels in his bathroom a little fucked up just to even things out. My sheets are clean, but I wash them anyhow. It keeps me busy. I flip the mattress and use the hand-held vacuum under the bed.

I clean my bathroom and finally put my shit in the cabinets and drawers. My clothes in the closet. I'm still waiting for the linens to dry and go back downstairs. I take a seat on top of the basket that is stuffed with my comforter. That is next. My legs are tired. My eyes are tired. A yawn escapes. I lean my head to the wall. There is still twenty minutes left until the dryer buzzes.

My back hurts and I shimmy down until I am lying on the comforter, in the basket. Just twenty minutes. I close my eyes and feel confident the buzzer will wake me up if I fall asleep. It's warm in here and smells like lavender. Mmm. Lavender. Edward comes back. He is between my legs and rocking to a rhythm that plays to my heart. It beats fast and hard. I hold on to him and plea silently for him not to go. I don't want him to leave.

I don't want him to leave me.