19 date at the dimestore

I got a (?) disgusting (?)
Maybe we can turn this wrong
Into right
I can’t keep living alone
When I think of him, I get tears

Excerpt from “Date at the Dimestore” by TMBG


I sat in Alice’s windowsill, looking out at Central Park. Even though the window was closed, the smell of hot dogs, taxicabs and wet, dead leaves were in my nose. I sniffed my purple TMBG t-shirt. Ah, that’s what it was. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Now that it was old, and therefore rarely washed, it took on the smell of everything.

Thankful that I hadn’t somehow gained mutant powers in the past few minutes, I turned my attention back to the street.

The city was covered in a light misty fog. It had rained earlier, and looked like it would again any minute. I wasn’t too worried about that, because I had a large umbrella, but I doubted we’d be able to pull off a “walking tour” date today.

I wasn’t actually sure what we’d be doing. Edward was keeping it a secret. We had this weird Buffy Season Three kind of truce going on. But if Edward left me right before Prom, I was more likely to send Hell Hounds after him myself than save the school and pick up a stupid sparkly prize.

Just sayin’; I wasn’t feeling particularly trusting of his word is all. I had too much experience with the kind of rejection that keeps on coming to think that a single bout would be the end of it.

So, Edward had agreed to meet me at Alice’s building.

It was (ironically) the only neutral spot within walking distance from his apartment; where, if he were unable to make it due to an emergency OCD situation, I wouldn’t be stuck without a phone wondering where he was.

If he couldn’t make it, he had to call Alice.

I shook my head and smiled wryly. That wasn’t likely to be a motivating factor for him, but it was nice to think about it as though it were. Edward was so confident in his interactions with people, particularly if there was no touching, that I wondered if he were Alice’s Kryptonite.

OK, gotta stop mixing metaphors, Bella, I thought.

I looked up the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he came into view. The post-rain smog-fog was thin enough that I could see about a half-a-block in both directions.

Would Edward be OK with fog? I couldn’t think of a valid reason for him not to be, but I couldn’t think of a valid reason not to ride the subway, either. Would he call if he couldn’t make it? What would he say?

I’m sorry Bella, I can’t be in the fog; it makes me uncomfortable.

Ugh. I was still resentful. I knew it was immature. But I also knew I’d never spent this much time with a male who was having “sexual relations” with me. All of this was new. There was a learning curve. We could figure this out.

Ooh, what would Edward look like coming down the street in the fog? I wondered.

Images of billowing black coats and superhero music played in my head. I imagined him jumping from the ground up to Alice’s living room window…which suddenly changed to my bedroom window…the one in TriBeCa…and I was in my bed sleeping, and he was watching me, and pulling out a can of WD-40 to open my window…and…that is fucking un-sexy…

Thoroughly pulled from my pathetic attempt at escapism, I eyed Alice’s phone. It was 5:55 p.m. He wasn’t late, yet. I continued to look at the inoffensive little gadget as though it were a bomb about to explode and kill any hopes for a relationship that I’d probably ever have. I willed that fucker not to ring and destroy my WD-40 dreams. I furrowed my brow in concentration.

That was useless, too. Not even Alice had that kind of power.

My twin, who had spent most of her life smothering me to death, was oddly out of my hair and in her home office, doing whatever someone like Alice does when she’s alone with her thoughts.

She totally needs a rat named Pinky…or was that already Jasper’s role to play?

No, Jasper was Team Bella in a big way; so much so that he and Alice were barely speaking. They were talking, but in a tentative two-weeks-into-couples-therapy kind of way.

And it was all Alice’s fault. Of that I was absolutely certain. She couldn’t just act normal to save her life. She had to be dramatic about it. She was still kind of hovering, but not in her usual way. Silent and contrite, looking at me for…permission? I had no clue, and I wasn’t about to ask her to vocalize her inner monologue.

I only had to ask her twice to leave me alone as I waited for Edward. She looked a little hurt, but she complied.


She did convince me to take a cup of tea, though, and I was glad. Tea was calming.

For about thirty seconds. It took longer to make it. How incredibly inefficient.

Fuck. I was channeling Edward already. This was Un-Good.

I was going to get hurt.

My knee bounced and I fiddled with the hem of my T-shirt. The soft worn cotton felt soothing on my fingertips.

I knew what else felt soothing on my skin. I closed my eyes and imagined Edward’s gloved hands on my body. The images caused things to stand alert down below.

Well, that was inconvenient. I certainly didn’t want to walk around with wet panties.

Better than going nowhere with wet panties, I mused.


Alice’s phone buzzed.

Incoming call from

Edward Masen

I wanted to wail or scream or say, “Fucking ASSHOLE!

But I couldn’t find my voice.

I was gagging on the words, which seemed to be stuck in my throat.

I held the vomit back, and managed to pick up the phone and carry it to Alice’s office. She had heard it (the bat), and met me at the door.

I offered her the phone like a supplication.

Please don’t let it be what I think it is.

“That Fucking Asshole!” she said.

Well, at least someone said it.

She yanked the phone out of my hand and answered.

“You goddamn motherfucker! How dare you stand my sister up twice! You aren’t just a loser and a weirdo, you are a fucking asshole and if I could think of something that would stick, I’d sue your ass into next year! I don’t even care if you’re my husband’s sister’s husband’s brother or WHAT. Do you know what sh—”

Alice stopped talking, head cocked to the side.

She pushed me out of the way and ran to the window. I followed.

We looked out and saw Edward standing on the sidewalk, facing the park. He had one (gloved) hand pulling at the hair on the crown of his head.

If I’d been sitting naked on a smooth surface, I would have slid right off…

He was here.

He was wearing tweed.

I grabbed the phone from Alice.


Bella?” He turned and looked up at the building as though he could hear me out the window.

I waved a hand side to side.

He saw it and waved back.

I see you!” he said with relief.

“I know!” I said, like the moron I am. “I mean, Right—I mean,” Fuck!…breathe! “I’ll be right down.”

Okay!” His smile was so big I could count his teeth from the twenty-first floor.

I dropped Alice’s phone and walked out without even saying goodbye.


There was only one establishment that Edward would even consider for our date. It was called Debussy’s, a small cafe originally owned by a woman who claimed to be the Debussy’s descendant. Edward said they had always gotten one hundred percent on their health inspections. He checked the records back fifteen years. Edward had suspected that the owner was a closet germ-0-phobe.

He told me all this (in greater detail, and with zero snark) as we walked the last block to the place. He wanted me to know that he had my best interest in mind.

He had taken his gloves off, so I enjoyed the feel of his hot, dry hand as we walked, but I spied the tale-tell tiny bit of latex poking out of his pocket.

He hadn’t kissed me yet, and I had lost all of the sexual confidence I’d gained since we were last alone.

Instead, I stared at him more (that was a Good) and made pathetic small talk (Less Good, but I would take it.)

“So, are you actually going to eat, when we get there?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, I just wanted to watch you eat.”

Creepy, but sexy. Why does that make me wanna…?

Actually, I was pretty sure Edward had ensured creepy would always be sexy for the rest of my life. He’d unknowingly combined the two so often that I couldn’t think of something as sexy anymore unless I was a little creeped out by it.

Interestingly, I wasn’t bothered at all by that thought.


Creepy…but also sexy.

“People are gonna think you’re a vampire, if you don’t ever eat in public.”

“Vampires don’t exist, Bella,” he said seriously.

I looked at him and smiled smugly.

“You were joking, weren’t you,” he said.

I nodded.

I heard the slap of latex on skin, and I melted a tiny bit, as we approached the door. Edward only put one glove on, so he could open it. He held it for me, as we stepped under the red and white striped awning into the nourishing warmth.

Once inside, he pulled the glove off, turning it inside out and sticking it in a plastic bag.

I raised an eyebrow, questioning.

Edward, who failed to notice my silent question as he was carefully sealing the bag, explained anyway: “See? This is a safe place to put the glove until I can find a receptacle.”

Then he stuck it in his pocket.

He gestured to the room and said, “Sit anywhere you like.” Then he put his hand at the small of my back, and ushered me forward.

The bar to my right was high, but without stools. To the left were square tables covered in crisp, clean cloths, with neat bistro chairs tucked under one side, banquet seating lining the wall.

Oh, and the cafe was completely empty.

This is New York City. There are no empty cafes. Anywhere.

A woman came around the corner and greeted us. She was short, blond and looked to be about fifty. Slim and nervous-looking, she wore a knee-length pale blue button up dress with a starched white apron and nude ballet flats. It was fifties housewife, meets urban casual.

“I’m Charlotte,” she smiled at us, but didn’t offer her hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Masen. I can assure you the place has been thoroughly cleaned, per your specifications. Ms. Hale came by earlier and inspected everything. I was excited to do a thorough cleaning, anyway, so it was no trouble at all.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” he said. “I got her report. I appreciate your continued attention to cleanliness.”

Her smile became even bigger as she turned her gaze to me.

Was I supposed to say something?

Wait. Did Edward rent this cafe?

I looked at him, mouth ready to catch popcorn or other snack food.

“Bella, it’s OK. I’m buying Debussy’s,” he said reassuringly, rubbing my lower back, very close to my ass, I noted, and asked me again to sit where ever I wanted.

The dining area was L shaped, so as we went further in, we turned a corner. There, in the back on a low platform, was a baby grand piano.

I decided to take a seat near it, thinking it would be something Edward might like to talk about. Perhaps he would even play something written by the cafe’s namesake.

He sat across from me, and Charlotte returned to take our order.

“We have a limited menu,” she said, before handing me a piece of laminated card stock twice the size of a business card.

She didn’t lie:

-Sandwich of the day

-Soup of the day

-Salad of the day

-Combo (pick 2)

The list of coffee drinks was a little longer:




-Cafe au lait



-Loose-leaf Tea

I pointed at “Combo” then “Sandwich” and “Soup.”

“To drink?” she asked.

I managed to croak, “Water.”

She nodded solemnly, as if she understood on a personal level, and looked at Edward.

“Soup and…do you have herbal tea?” He said. I raised an eyebrow, but he ignored me.

“Yes, chamomile and peppermint.”

“Hm, I’ll take the peppermint. And I’d like the tea and soup boiling. Thanks.”

She walked away, and Edward turned his gaze to my incredulous face.

“What is it?”

“You’re eating?”

“Well, I didn’t want to develop a reputation for being a ‘creature of the night’,” he said.

And, yes, he actually used air quotes.

I laughed. He grinned.

Then I said, “I can’t believe you bought a this place, either.”

“Well, I thought I might want to take you out on a date. And it’s a good investment. I checked their earnings, too. I don’t plan on making many changes, except, sometimes I’ll want the place for just us, or whomever we want to invite,” he smiled. “See, I’m trying.”

“Funny. Trying looks a lot like cheating,” I mused.

Edward thought about that before replying, “Long term, perhaps a year from now, if we are still dining as just the two of us, then I’ll agree. However, this place allows me to invest in a locally owned and operated company, and to have some control over an environment so I can work on my issues.”

A year from now?

I swallowed.

He noticed.

“Did I say something that bothered you?” He put his hand toward my own, and I could feel the energy between us. I was mesmerized at the feel of him almost touching me.

I shook my head, but couldn’t form the words to explain why I couldn’t form the words to say: you just casually said we’d be together in a year!

But before I could get carried away with the idea of an “us,” he closed distance, his warm hand on top of mine, and looked into my eyes.

“Whatever it is, please let me make it better,” he said seriously. “That’s what Esme would say, when something happened that upset me. It made me feel better just hearing her say that. Does it help you?”

“Yes…um…only,” I swallowed again and watched as his fingers curled around mine carefully. He was pulling me toward himself. Not satisfied with his current plan, his chair scraped the floor as he hooked an ankle around a leg of the chair and moved it closer to mine.

“I need to kiss you again, Bella.”

“OK,” I croaked.

He leaned in and my heart was racing in anticipation. His lips barely brushed mine, as he took a long deep breath though his nose. That sound alone sent a pulse through my body. It had been a while since he’d kissed me.

Since the day of the subway debacle.

I crushed our lips together as I wrapped my arms around him, and almost pulled back, worrying that he would freak out, but my assertiveness seemed only to spur him on.

He wrapped his arms around me and opened his mouth in invitation.

Not wanting to seem rude…oh, who am I kidding, my tongue was like a giddy teenager who had just been invited to prom by the hottest guy in school. And she was way more confident than I had been at that age.

She took exactly what she wanted.

Edward moaned against my mouth, his hands slipping into impolite-for-public places. I leaned into his hands, silently begging him to continue.

We both found skin, searching out specific body parts. Edward was working his way down the back of my pants to cup my ass, while mine were working up the front of his shirt to tweak those pale ghostly nipples.

I found them and ran my fingers over the hardened tips. I wondered if they matched the hardness of his cock. Fuck, I hoped so.

Out of breath, but not defeated, he moved his kisses to my cheek and found his way to my ear, “I don’t know how you feel about this, but I will do anything you ask to get you back to my place so I can get you naked again, Is that OK?”

“Fuck, yes, let’s go right now,” I murmured into his ear.

He chuckled, running his nose along my neck and behind my ear, smelling me, one hand moving to grasp my hair as he pulled it to his face.

“But we came all this way, shouldn’t we enjoy an evening out?”

“You are an evil man, Edward Masen,” I said with as much fierceness as I could muster.

He pulled back to look at me.

Should I tell him I was kidding?

I could tell he had figured it out on his own when he said, “Only as evil as you want me to be, Bella,” then cupped my face in his hands, and attacked my mouth, nibbling and sucking on my lips and tongue.

We were interrupted with throat-clearing and food.

Once I smelled it, I realized I was starving, not having had much breakfast and no lunch at all, what with all the fear of failure. Now that I felt like things were going better, and no chance of subways in our future, I had calmed enough to consider that my stomach was empty.

My face had to be flushed, but Edward had the exhilarated glow of someone who’d just finished a 5K. He was about that sweaty, too.

While we ate, Edward and I discovered we had a lot in common. We were of the same mind on all of the Major Three: politics, religion and sports. This meant, of course, that we were both of no mind and had no interest in those subjects whatsoever.

This realization freed us to discuss more important matters like advances in science. We also debated which we preferred and why: Morning Edition or All Things Considered. Edward preferred Morning Edition, while I couldn’t decide. I liked Story Corps and You Must Read This equally well, so it was impossible to choose. My favorite topic was the fate of American music due to commercialism.

“I can’t watch television anymore,” Edward said. “It upsets me to see wonderful songs I heard as a child turned into background music to sell sodas and cars.”

“I agree, but often the artists themselves don’t even own the music any more, and those who do own it are free do whatever they want.”

“I know that,” he said, winking at me, “but I don’t have to like it, and I don’t have to watch it.”

“I’m surprised at your interest. I knew you played piano, but I figured you for more of a classical music junkie.”

“I played everything I heard,” he admitted. “My mother listened to a lot of records over and over. I would play the songs by ear,” he said.

“That’s amazing. I could never play by ear. I could barely play what was on the page.”

“It made it difficult for me to learn what was on the page. I can play it, but I am much more proficient when I trust myself to play what I’ve heard.”

“Like what?” I asked. I hoped like anything that he’d play something. I’d settle for “Mary Had A Little Lamb” at this point. Then, I wanted him to ravish me on the piano. He owned this one now, right?

“Hm, well…there is one song. It was my mother’s favorite. Would you like me to play it for you?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

He kissed me once on the lips and pulled out a fresh pair of gloves.

“Will that work?” I asked. As much as I’d love watching him play with the gloves on, I wasn’t sure that was possible.

“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair and stepped up to the piano.

I followed him and watched as he lifted the lid and pulled up the short stick, which held the heavy covering up a few inches. Next, he pulled out the bench and seated himself, pushing back the fall and exposing the keyboard.

His face lit up when he spied the shiny lacquered keys. He reached out and brushed them with his fingertips, finding a place he seemed to be looking for with his hands and pressing down suddenly when he found it.

The sound of the C major chord filled the room, and was immediately followed by a lazy walking bass over arpeggiated chords. The progression was generic, and there was nothing that stood out to me. Then he broke into song:

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me.

Say “Nightie-night” and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me

While I’m alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me.

The chords suddenly morphed into a vamp that made me think of smoky cabarets and old west honky-tonks.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear, still craving your kiss

I’m longing to linger till dawn, dear, just saying this:

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me.

I remembered the song. The Mamas and the Papas…Mama Cass Elliot. I could imagine a young Edward singing this for his mother.

He improvised through the piano solo, left hand keeping up the vamped chord progression while his right hand played several licks, the occasional wrong notes only adding to the casual character of the song.

He kept up the pace of his fingers while his voice rang out in a strong baritone a reprise of the chorus. Then he played through a few more progressions, watching me with shining eyes and lopsided grin.

I had been leaning against the piano watching every touch. He was right; the latex didn’t stick to the keys at all.

I was amazed and turned on.

He stopped when I reached over to touch his face. He didn’t even flinch, but stood up and pulled me close to him. He spoke in a low voice into my hair: “Thank you for wanting to hear me play. I had forgotten how much I missed it.”

I felt like he told me a secret. I squeezed him tightly and kissed him once on the mouth, but that wasn’t enough for either of us. Edward pulled me in tighter. I rubbed against his erection.

“Fuck, Bella, please come home with me now,” he said against my hair.

I nodded against his shoulder, having been pulled there as he gasped for air before speaking.

We grabbed our jackets, and he yelled a quick thanks and goodbye to Charlotte, before practically shoving me out the door.


I’m a fast walker. I mean, I walk a lot, so my legs are strong and I’ve always been able to keep up with anyone who’s propelled by feet alone. But as Edward dragged me behind him, I stumbled several times, my legs not quite being up to the task of his almost flight-like speed.

I finally told him, he was either going to have to slow down, or carry me on his back like a spider monkey; his choice.

He stopped and stared at me, seeming to consider the practical ramifications of carrying me on his back. Should I tell him I was totally kidding?

Finally, he gripped my hand as though I were his lifeline. Then he continued at a slightly slower pace.

His apartment door wasn’t even fully closed before he had me on the couch, under him, with one his hand up my shirt, the other clasped in my hair.

He mumbled all kinds of things, from “precious” and “lovely” to “fucking” and…I think at one point he said, “so shiny and clean.” He moaned that last bit, so I wasn’t sure.

I thought I should take the lead on the undressing, so I bravely pushed the tweed from his shoulders. I had the foresight to take off my coat before he opened the door, but Edward had a one-track mind…apparently.

He helped me remove his jacket and shirt. “No more button-ups on dates with Bella!” He said angrily as he yanked at the buttons. I heard plastic hit hardwood before he pulled the button-up and undershirt over his head in one go.

Shirtless, he helped me sit up and looked a question at me. I read him very well, so I pulled at the hem of my shirt.

“Please let there be black lace!” he cried and reached for my shirt to help me. I guess I wasn’t moving fast enough for him.

In our struggle for dominance of my shirt, I started sliding off the couch. Edward went with me, and next thing I knew, we were both sliding around on the floor, the bench and couch getting banged and moved by elbows, knees and feet.

Finally, my shirt was removed and Edward was pleased to see the BLB was called back for an encore performance. It would probably be added to the roster of recurring acts in our…dare I even think it?

Sex life.

“Fuck me,” he said.

“Tonight? Really?” I said.

Edward’s mouth was moving like a goldfish, and just as wet, but for once, he was as speechless as me. I hoped for the best, that he was just formulating something to say, not that he was horrified.

“No!” He said…horrified it is, then. “I meant that like I’ve heard Emmett say it…as an expletive. Sorry, I shouldn’t do that, I’m not very good at doing it properly.

“I want to touch you, not fuck you, Bella…tonight that is. I want to wait a little. I mean. I need…can we talk about it later?”

He shook his head in that way he did when he was obviously trying to clear his thoughts of something intrusive.

I reached up and cupped his face with my ungloved hand. He hadn’t even insisted I wear gloves tonight, and I wondered if he was realizing that right now.

He shuddered or shivered; I wasn’t sure which it was, but then he leaned into my hand and kissed my wrist, moving down my arm and over my shoulder, finally dipping down to my cleavage.

I tried not to guide his head with my hand, which had found it’s way to his now messy hair.

Suddenly, I felt his tongue flick just inside the top of my bra to graze my already hardened nipple, as his other hand (seeming to have a mind of its own) started unbuttoning my jeans.

“Yes,” I moaned, giving him permission to move forward. Not that he’d asked for it, but I got the impression he was running more on instinct at the moment, and if he suddenly had an attack of cognition, he might stop what he was doing.

Couldn’t have that.

I moved my hands from his hair to help him remove my pants. Only he was trying to remove everything thing at once. Tangled up in pants and panties, I struggled on the floor, clothes covered legs and feet sliding, and slightly sweaty naked thighs causing painful friction as we struggled to remove my clothing.

Why oh why didn’t I wear a skirt? I asked myself.

“I don’t know, but I would recommend you wear one next time,” Edward answered my, apparently, vocalized question. “I’ve been fantasizing about that blue one you wore when we met,” he added as he kissed the exposed skin of my thighs, calming me enough to stop struggling against him.

“Sit up, my Bella.”

I did, and he helped me onto the couch, and had me lean up so he could remove just my pants. He folded them carefully along with my shirt and set them next to me.

“Let’s go to my room,” he said, holding out his hand.

His room was even more sparse than his living room. There was a full-sized bed, pushed up against one wall, a nightstand and a single dresser. Free weights were stacked neatly in a corner. It was a decent-sized room. I could see the en suite bathroom door was open.

He pulled the covers back and nodded for me to have a seat…I presumed. I sat there, looking up at him, wondering what would happen, wondering whether or not I should be offended once he explained the not-fucking-tonight thing.

Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, though, he ran to the restroom and washed his hands. I could hear the soap slap against his skin, sounding like…well, other things, and couldn’t help but touch myself over my panties in anticipation.

As he walked back into the room, gloves back on his hands, he was unbuttoning his pants, more slowly this time, as an edge of glove got stuck between fingers and a button, and carefully freed his cock, which was clearly impatient to be out and a part of the action.

My bottom lip got stuck under my teeth as I took in a ragged breath when seeing his cock.

Then he was naked.

I started to undo the clasp at my back, but he moved my hands out of the way and pushed me back a little, so he could climb over me.

He carefully, almost tenderly, removed my bra, folding it, and laying it on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to do this right, Bella. I’m not afraid of you; there’s a part of me that believes that you are clean, and…” we both watched as his cock bobbed in response to the word clean, “shiny…” or it could be that word, “and slick…” his brows came together and he bit his lip, his eyes at my crotch instead of my face, where he was normally looking when he spoke to me.

He slid off of me and down to his knees on the floor, and peeled my panties down my thighs like a greedy boy stealing cookies from a jar. His hands ghosted back up, barely touching me and stopped at my hips. He looked up at me with fear and reverence.

I stared back with the most reassuring smile I could muster.

“Bella you are beautiful. I need your guidance. I don’t know if I can do this without more protective gear. Would you be offended if I use a dental dam?”

I lay back, closing my eyes and moaning at the thought of Edward putting the latex on my skin while using his tongue. It was so hot, I even thrust my hips toward his face without thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to do it w—”

“—No! I want the dental dam, please, Fuck! Use any…ungf…protective gear you want!” I covered my face with my hands in embarrassment. I felt him leave my thighs and heard him open the drawer on his nightstand. Then came the sound of a plastic bag opening, and the smell of mint filled my nose.


Hearing my non-verbal plea, Edward lifted my legs, placing my feet on either side of my hips and spread my labia apart. I felt the dam press against me like silk, followed I was certain, by the firm pressure of Edward’s tongue.

I uncovered my eyes and peered down at him to make sure.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” I said, when I saw he was looking back at me.

He pressed harder, moving his tongue urgently against my clit. He moved it back and forth, flicking it somehow, even with the dam. His eyes rolled back in his head and closed, but I had to keep watching, because I wouldn’t have been able to believe he was doing it unless I saw it for myself.

Finally, after I cried out with my first orgasm, and was fully ready to reciprocate, he slid a gloved finger under the dam, and moved it up and down my slit and into me, quickly adding a second finger.

I bucked against him, as I moaned loudly, causing the dam to stick to the glove and moving it out from under his tongue. His bare mouth was suddenly on me.

He stopped.

His eyes met mine.

I was sweating like a bus-boy in a restaurant. If he freaked out and stopped what he was doing right now, I wasn’t sure what kind of cave-woman crazy I was capable of. I might not be above reaching for a heavy object to render him unconscious.

Not that that would help.

I watched him move his tongue firmly but tentatively up my slit and pull back, staring back me. Then, he leaned in, that beautiful piece of pink flesh sneaking out of his mouth for a second pass. He watched me like a wild animal ready to bolt.

I held very still.

This time, he moaned as he had his first taste of pure, unadulterated Bella. The dam was gone. Forgotten. His fingers inside me kept moving, at a slower pace, and his other hand squeezed my thigh.

He closed his eyes, and kept going.

I realized I’d been holding my breath.

I blew it out carefully, and sucked in another one, just for the pleasure of crying fuck over and over as he sucked my clit and made me come again.

I resisted the urge to push into his face. It was hard…but I managed.

The sucking and finger fucking continued until I was too sensitive to take any more. I pulled back from him, rather than ask, because I couldn’t ask him to stop. There was a part of me that wanted him to never stop.

“Was that good?” he asked.

“Fuck, yes! Too much! I want you in my mouth, now!”

“Are you sure?” he asked with fear.

“Edward,” I said, sitting up and brushing sweat-soaked hair from his brow, “I want to, very much…do you mind wearing a condom?”

He let out a sigh of relief. “I was afraid to ask.”

“But I like latex!” I said.

“Yes, I know, but when I told Emmett I bought the dental dams, he said it was a bad idea. I told him you liked latex, and he said ‘no body likes latex that much!’.”

I should have been offended by the fact that he outed my kink to his brother, but I was too focused on the plural of dental dam. Was that something I could expect to enjoy a second time?

“Edward. I don’t just like latex. It turns me on. It makes me wet. Just…don’t ever hesitate to tell me if you want something, and I’ll do the same, and we can just not worry about offending each other, OK?”

I sat up on his bed, and he moved to sit beside me. His chin was still a little wet from his activity. I bit the inside of my cheek knowing I had something to do with that.

That thought alone made me want to get right down to it. I looked down and saw his erection. I’d have to finesse this as much as I was capable…which is to say, not a whole fucking lot.

My attempt at seduction started, clichéd enough, with a kiss. I pushed him back on the bed, but he held me off of himself at my hips, his own turned to the side.

I leaned back and said, “Would you get me a condom and a pair of gloves, Edward?”

He nodded and opened he drawer, handing them to me like they were precious stones.

“Lay back. I promise you’ll like this.”

I donned the gloves and put the condom on his cock with ease. I did not fail to notice that he had conscientiously picked a flavored condom, strawberry by the smell of it. I stuck out my tongue and licked the head to check.

“Oh Fuck!” he said. “Please do that again!” He was holding himself up awkwardly with his elbows and hands, his legs sprawled out on either side of me. He looked incredibly uncomfortable.

This would not do at all.

I got up off his bed and stood over him.

“Edward, do you have any other pillows?”

“No, but I can order some, if you want me to have more.”

“No, I just, um…thought you’d be more comfortable…if you had more than one under your head.”

“No. I don’t like to have my head elevated too much.”


“Would you put your head on the pillow?”

He nodded and scooted down in the bed, tension radiating off his body in almost palpable waves.

“I’m going to sit next to you over here,” I pointed to the side of the bed against the wall, “and I’m going to put just my hands and mouth on you. OK?”


I got on the bed and sat perpendicular to him. My knees were touching his hips, but he didn’t move, so I assumed that was fine. I put my left hand on his shoulder, reassuringly, running the fingertips of my other hand up and down his body. He relaxed into the bed. My hands ran closer and closer to his cock without touching, in an effort to calm him down a little.

Once he was as relaxed as I’d ever seen him, his eyes closed, but still clearly aroused, I brushed his cock with my fingertips, and he moaned, his cock bobbing, begging for more.

I put all five fingers of one hand around his cock just holding him for a minute, his hips bucking off the bed.


I leaned in and kissed the tip before taking the head back in my mouth for a second time.

“Arrghnh!” he said, gripping the sheets with his hands. He was squinting his eyes closed I noticed as I watched his face carefully for signs that I was doing too much.

I squeezed the shaft a little and moved my mouth over him, then started working in tandem with my hand. I couldn’t move my hand much, though, because the latex would stick to itself. This was a new dimension I was unprepared for.

Fortunately, he didn’t last long. He groaned, bucked and put his hand in my hair before thrusting hard into the back of my throat, coming with spectacular force.

“Fuck!” he cried as his hips hit the bed.

I pulled my mouth off of him and filled the vacated space with the biggest shit-eating grin in the history of the world.

Then, I threw his words back at him: “Was that good?”

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