There isn't much I take for granted. In a small dirty sink is where this used to happen. On occasion, I used a couple coins and slept on top of the warm pile, scattered across my motel's bedsheets. So many buttons and fancy shit going on here. It took me a year, five shirts that are too small for him and a Lucille Ball moment with bubbles, just to figure it out.
I told him used was fine. The easier the better. Edward is extremely hardheaded.
This counter is fucking great, though. The windows and natural light. It's better than having to cart shit up the steps. Not that I could or was allowed to very often. Bumps and shit. Swollen ankles he never let me have and Esme apparently loves fucking Virginia. She might as well just pack her bags and start paying rent.
My hands smooth out the wrinkles in the white of his shirt. It's slightly damp and why does it make me weak in the knees? It's just a stupid shirt. I've seen it a million times. What goes under it even more and I'm reduced to a fucking school girl just thinking about it. A light sniff of the sleeve and I'm a loser.
Even more so, when I hear his car pull in and the door close. My mouth smiles at just the sound of his damn feet and the warm weather filtering in and the slats of the window is not why I feel flushed on the back of my neck. Cheeks. All over.
The sound of his bag hitting the floor behind me and I know what comes next. Hands on my hips and he's pulling me into him. I don't turn around. This is much better.
By my ear and he's had a hard day. "Either you're trying to torture me, or your falling for this 'green' lifestyle they push on everyone."
I push my ass a little further into his crotch. "I'm just being logical, Edward. Pants needed to be washed, so how could I be rude to the ones I was wearing and leave them out?"
He smiles and bad day is disappearing. "I see. Were bras on the list of items as well?" And hello hands, hands and more hands.
I lean my head against his chest. Hello, green eyes. Love you. "No. That shit is just to torture you."
And white smile. And hands want to play, but before he goes for it, he will always be, "Where are the kids?" first.
I lean away and reach for the monitor. "Napping." I hold it out as proof. I'm a good mother. Promise. "I was watching them the whole time. See, the sound is on."
Green eyes fill with that remorseful shit. Fingertips slide softly over the fullness of my cheek. And as if he heard my thoughts, "I know, Sweetheart." And now everything is kosher. That warm air from the window is back and working its way up the back of my legs. Edward's hands working their way down and meeting somewhere in the middle. There is a magnet is our lips and foreheads. A brief recollection of our life before skin meets skin and eyes close, taking each other in and the warm air is now blanketing over me.
They think it's this house. The doctor title. The car. My ring. No.
It's this.
Something warmer. Metal on the backs of my thighs and hello dryer. Okay, this too.
That baby monitor states we have roughly fifteen minutes before the magic disappears from this room. I only need two to get his clothes off. Good bye shirt and pants. Tie, you stay on. Good boy. Hands cup my tits and and make a bed for his face. Strawberry lotion and I am obviously edible. I draw him in with my legs and he's not going anywhere. The time seems to slow as his mouth slides smoothly and steadily along my skin, from my chest to my neck, until he's under my jaw, pulse against tongue and my eyes are rolling into the back of my head. Stay here. Stay here. God, stay here.
The mind reader is tugging gently to my hair, tipping my head back further and continuing his delicious assault.
"What, Sweetheart?"
You know what. Just do it. Tease. A fucking tease.
I push him away and that goddamn smirk says it all. Love you.
"Like this," because I've already been on top of the dryer. I'm on my feet, turned around and showing him why I'm really not wearing pants. His mouth appreciates the way my shoulders and back stretch and arch like a cat. Ass out...and...Jesus Christ...palms never felt so good.
"Like this?" Him this time and I'm just nodding like there's no tomorrow as palms make play number two and push my cheeks up, so he can...
"Like that...like that...Jesus Christ, Edward, just like that."
Mouth at my ear and Doctor Cullen is not as shy as he used to be. "Which one?" because he slaps my ass while he asks.
"You. Not Jesus. Sorry."
And he thinks it's funny. Until...
"Christ, Bella." Scissored legs. Works every time.
I hold them together tightly. "Which one?"
He takes a moment to think it over, or to process, whatever. I grin at either one before he replies, "Bella..." and that mouth is hot and dotting wet kisses all over the back of my neck and shoulders. "Bella, Bella, Bella." And my name is fucking incredible. It keeps slipping from his lips with every thrust, lick, kiss and deeper breathes, until the doctor has become a product of marrying a woman who is not shy and saying shit like how good my pussy is.
So, I give it back. Hand reaching to the back of his head, pulling him toward me and my lips against the side of his face. "You fuck me so good..." and a break with one of those high-pitched breathes. "You fuck me so, so good, Edward." Edward. Not Jesus. Edward.
His arms wrap around me and why Edward? Edward because this could have been a random 'I fucked my wife against dryer' moment. Added to a list of places in this house we've fucked. But fucking is like the old machines and coins and used to be's. Arms wrap around me tightly because he needs to put his mouth as close to my ear and hair as possible when he, "I love you, I love you, I love you." And I come undone.
Edward, because he holds back until he feels me go slack in his arms, except for the legs, need those to to be a good wife, and he has perfect timing. He's grunting and over me, head buried in my shoulder as he comes inside of me. And I love, love, love it.
The air has changed. Cooler against my heated skin and his. It takes over for a moment as we collect ourselves, breathes, heartbeats. The soft click of the dryer's dial and cycle ends. I glance up and see small hands and feet kicking around.
I want to sleep face down on the dryer. "Baby is up."
Kisses on my cheek and he ignores me for a second. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" More kisses, down the neck and onto the shoulder. "How good you smell?" On the spine and hello goosebumps. "Taste?"
I lift my head and look over my shoulder. Yeah...he's good. And I love that fucking smile. "I have to go get her."
A playful, light smack to my ass cheek. "You have laundry to do." And another kiss to my shoulder. "I'll get her." He leans away and dips down to pull his pants back on.
Facing him. "What happened today?"
His face is a little surprised. "What do you mean?"
"You were in a bad mood when you came in."
More surprised, confused. "I was?"
Nothing, just staring...and then a small grin. "How did you..."
I point. "Your tie."
Scrunched eyebrows. "My tie?"
I nod. "Yeah, it's loose." Still doesn't get it. "You play with it when you're stressed out."
His smile is warmer than the air. But shy. My insides could be butterflies and I have to wonder - how? After so long how does he still do that? Small steps towards me and I'm back to making braille on my skin. His fingertips could be moth wings as he places them so gently under my chin, bringing my mouth to his and I don't have to answer his questions from before because in between each light kiss he, "You're so beautiful." And "I don't even know what was wrong anymore." Holds me and says it against my face. "There was this girl who smelled and tasted like strawberries that made it all better." He pulls away and I could cry from how intently he looks at me. "She always makes it better."
And so do you. And so do you.