Monday, February 24, 2014

Naughty Knickers




FIVE



Bella

This was not good. Not good at all.

I liked him.

Liked him way too much.

So much that I let him lead me into an elevator and then corner me there with his hips and his hands and those two different colored eyes. The green one and the gold one, both of them on fire. His husky breath and his musky smell and those goddamned suspenders, which I was really starting to love. They gave me something to hold onto, something to keep myself upright when he kissed me, because he kissed me hard enough to make my knees go weak. My lips went numb and my brain went silnt, blood bouncing through my veins like a preteen girl with a crush. He got my shirt undone and I shoved his suspenders off his shoulders. I ground my hips against him while he assaulted my neck but, when the buzzer above the door sounded, I wrenched myself away before anyone could catch us. I darted out the doors into a random hallway, leaving him panting in the elevator. Hid out in the Renaissance paintings for almost an hour before I mustered the courage to sneak into my office.

His door was shut.

Thank god.

Jane was lounging in the makeup chair, waiting for me while she inspected her fingernails. She gave me a weird look and watched me huff around the room for a while before she spoke. “Who have you been making out with?”

“What? I wasn’t - I mean, I was but - how could you -”

“Your skirt is on backwards. I wanna know who had their hands up there.” She pointed at me and she was right, it was all twisted around with the seam that should have been up the back now riding over my right thigh. I rolled my eyes and fixed my skirt, grumbling as I readjusted. “You might wanna tuck your tit back in, too,” Jane giggled while I resisted the urge to unstrap my boot and throw it at her.

It took almost two hours to get her ready, which was really unfortunate for me because we were both trapped in one spot together and she pestered me about the skirt thing the entire time. By the time I’d put the last finishing touches on her, she looked like a painted porcelain doll, but I wanted to punch her in the teeth, just to shut her up. She’d gone through just about every member of the museum staff, which was surprising for her because she could barely remember her own phone number. Alice could never meet Jane. They’d fall in stupid, destructive love and bring out the worst in each other before they broke each other’s hearts.

“Oh my god, it’s Edward, isn’t it?” Jane said suddenly.

“Why would it be Edward?”

“Because there’s no one else and it can’t be Carlisle.”

“Why couldn’t it be Carlisle?”

“No reason, other than the fact that he’s just one sexy guy away from going up in flames. Gay flames,” she snickered. She was right, Carlisle would blossom with a boyfriend, but I didn’t have the courage to tell him that. “It has to be Edward. It is, isn’t it!”

“He’s making it really hard to ignore him,” I grumbled.

“Oh my god, you were doing it in here yesterday, weren't you?” She squealed and glanced around the room, obviously trying to decide just how many surfaces Edward had fucked me silly on. I punched her in the arm. Not hard. I didn’t want her to bruise and it was the only place on her body where my touch wouldn’t mess any of my work up. Plus, I couldn’t imagine how angry Edward would be with me if I sent her back in there with a couple of broken teeth.

“I kicked him and he fell.” I glanced at the floor where Edward had been lying not six hours before, using his nose to shove my underwear up into my vag.

“That’s what she said,” Jane laughed at me and sauntered out the door. I trailed her down to the studio, rubbing my fingers across my lips. They were still stinging from their scrub-over by Edward’s stubble. We got all the way downstairs before I bothered to pay attention to my surroundings.

“Who is that?” Jane asked from beside me. I looked up to find Edward in the arms of an older woman who was elegantly dressed in a tailored suit set and topped with perfectly curled salt and pepper hair. She held him by the face for a moment, saying something that made him smile, before pulling him close to wrap her arms around him. She was very pretty, probably a whole lot older than she actually looked, and I was wondering if she was his mother or even his grandmother when she pulled him close and kissed him.

Right on the mouth.

With tongue. Lots of it. Obscene amounts.

“That’s her!” Jane gripped my arm and hissed in my ear. I was still struggling to comprehend what I had just seen and shook my head dumbly. I had no idea who she was talking about, only that Edward had just kissed the woman I’d mistaken for his mother. “Esme... his ex-piece.”

“They dated?” I stuttered, trying to tear my eyes away but I couldn’t. I was painfully aware of every little detail, zoomed in on high focus and unable to look. I could see her lipstick smear at the corner of his mouth and her tongue slip beyond his teeth. Could see the way she clutched his shirt and cupped his face. She was gazing at him like a love struck puppy and I could not even believe this was happening right now. Edward stepped away, wiping his mouth and shaking his head, words from his mouth that I couldn’t hear.

I ran all the way back to my office.

I should have known.

No boy that beautiful could ever not have baggage. And ex-girlfriend baggage at that. I resisted every urge to Google her name and spent most of the afternoon on the floor where I’d knocked him over the day before, staring up at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do about him. What to do about my feeling for him, because they were uncomfortable and heart wrenching and I didn’t need any of this shit right now. I wanted to go home and crawl into my bed, but Jane was going to need help getting all that crap off her later and I didn’t think I could walk in a straight line right now.

I didn’t see him again until he showed up in my doorway hours later, the museum gone still and silent. He looked exhausted, leaning against the door jam, his glasses in one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other.

“Are you free tonight?”

“I’m never free,” I snapped at him. “I’m not some bargain-brand rebound for you to slap over your heartbreak.” I was feeling completely burned by this guy and really just wanted him to leave me the fuck alone so that I could get over him.  

“What’s your problem?” he asked, settling his glasses back on his nose. “I thought we had unfinished business.”

“Go find your cougar. Our business is finished.”

Edward’s face compacted, eyes sparking and he stormed toward me to grab my by the arm, hauling me to my feet to pull me close. “I still have your underwear,” he growled.

“Keep them. They’re tainted,” I hissed, trying to pull away.

“What do you have on under there today?” he asked, ignoring me completely as his fingers flitted along the hemline of today’s skirt. “Tell me it’s the pink one, with the flowers.”

It wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to let him know that either. “You can’t go sucking face with someone else and then show up in here and expect me to fall naked into your lap.”

“That’s disappointing,” he muttered, mouth twisting into a sideways smirk. “I’ve been thinking about you, naked in my lap, all damn day.”

“Ok, I’m done.” I tugged my arm free and scampered toward the door, fleeing down the hallway.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight!” Edward called after me.






Edward


I followed her home.

No point in denying it. She knew I was there the whole time, glancing back over her shoulder at me just to make sure I was still trailing her. She lived in the opposite direction of my own apartment, in a slummier, artsier section of town. Crooked funky houses and a lot more noise than in my quiet neighborhood, but a little more alive somehow. I stood behind her while she unlocked her door, sniffing her hair and trying in vain to keep my hands to myself.

I didn’t know what it was about this girl, but I hadn’t made a rational decision since I met her.

We stumbled through the door and I wasted no time rubbing my aching dick all over her backside, fondling her tits with both hands and slobbering all over her neck.

“Who is she?” Bella panted, guiding us through the darkened house.

“I don’t want to talk about her right now,” I groaned, trying to get my hands up underneath her skirt. I was dying to see what she had on underneath her clothes and the elevator had only put a faint hint of her taste on my tongue. I was starving for a mouthful of her.

“I do. I want to know,” she whispered, pushing me away. I flopped onto the couch, slowly sliding off to the floor as she paced around in front of me, ranting and pulling off her clothes. Her words and her actions were in total disagreement with each other, baring her skin while she building up her walls. I couldn’t help but smirk at her as she stomped around.

“I’m not some hit-and run slut you can bust your rocks all over and then leave. I’m not easy, and I’m not exactly proud of that, but I have some standards, Edward. I don’t want to be the thing you use to get your dick wet before you decide that you want her back. I need to know how you met her, why you love her, loved her . . . and what happened. Did she break your heart, or did you break hers?”

“The heartbreak was mutual, believe me,” I murmured, my eyes stuck on her tits. They were cupped by the pale blue silky bra that had just been revealed, her shirt fluttering to the floor.

“And why is she here?”

The bra flopped beside her feet.

“I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see her, at least not for a while,” I gulped. I’d hightailed it to the other side of the globe to make that happen, but I had still failed. Esme couldn’t keep her word to save her life. My last vision of her was screaming, crying, telling me to get out and never come back, that she never wanted to see me again. And yet here she was, in Chicago and seeking me out. I should have known it would happen this way. As soon as I woke up without the ache, she’d come back to rip the half-healed wound open. It had always been that way.

“What does she want?” Bella pushed her skirt to the floor and fingered the hem of her garter belt, a pretty ruffle of black lace around the smallest part of her waist, the straps attached to her stockings bracketing the crease between her legs.

Did she really expect me to concentrate right now? To have an actual conversation? She thought way too highly of me.

“Me, obviously.” I reached for her again, wrapping my hands around her knees. “She was very important to my career, booked my first show in Paris, but our relationship is over. We’re no good together and I’m so fucking worked over by you, I can’t help myself.”

I really couldn't. Esme and I hadn't had sex in months leading up to our implosion and after a self- imposed round of celibacy between then and now, I was aching for relief. I pulled Bella down on top of me and she collapsed without fighting, which was a good sign. She crawled on top of me again, straddling my chest with her thighs to my ears and her shins to my shoulders. I had a feeling she liked this position. It probably made her feel bigger and stronger in situations when she definitely wasn’t, so I let her run with it. Let her shimmy down my stomach to get her hands on me. She undid my pants before she unclipped my suspenders, toying with them, her fists wrapped up in the ends as she tested the elasticity by stretching them out.

“How old is she?" Bella asked thoughtfully, avoiding my eyes.

"58," I told her, knowing full well that Esme only copped to 49 in public.

"Do you like them like that? Your women? Old enough to be your mother?" She sighed when she pushed her panties aside and sunk down onto me, her tight and wet engulfing every inch of my hot and hard. I slipped inside with a groan, fisting that lace garter belt, and she sighed in response as she sat flush on top of me.

"There's something to be said for that, but there's something to be said for this too." I reached out and grabbed for her tits, full and perky and standing at attention, but she cut me off mid- action. Pinned my hands to the floor on either side of my head with the strap of my suspenders still between her fists. It pressed across my mouth, silencing me with my lips smashed tight against my teeth while she worked me over.

“Shut up.” She rocked her hips steadily, soft and then hard and everything in between. I wasn't going to last long at all. Her weight shifted with each thrust and she dug the strap tighter, gagging me with my own clothing as she shifted up and down my shaft. I groaned, arching my neck and the suspender strap slipped off my chin, snapping across my throat with a smart sting that left me gasping. My vision spun, starry and explosive, then she appeared in my view, grinning wickedly as she ground down against me.

“Like that, huh? We’ll just leave that there then.” She leaned in to grab the edge of the elastic with her teeth and let it go with another snap at the same moment she sunk down on my dick again and I lost it. Let out a strangled moan through her chokehold and writhed underneath her as my orgasm ripped through me. Bright enough to blind and hot enough to burn me from the inside out. Suffocating on too much lust and not enough oxygen and the slip and slide my dick was being subjected to, not to mention my head.

"I've been fantasizing about that," Bella sighed as she sat back, taking my suspenders with her and I took a big gulp of air that made my head spin even worse than before.

"About accosting me on your carpet to interrogate me about my ex while you fuck me?"

"No. About gagging you."




AN: Hadley Hemingway = love

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Naughty Knickers



FOUR




Bella


“Ok, so that asshole wants us to paint scales all over you and then put you in a pool of jellyfish. I’m starting to think he’s totally bent in the head-”

I turned, expecting Jane, but Edward was standing in my doorway looking more than a little worse for wear. For one, he was glaring at me, for obvious reasons. Secondly, his clothes were rumpled as though he’d slept in them again and his hair was forever that hot mess.  He was wearing a tie today, black and skinny, and the ever-present suspenders were patterned with tiny silver stars. He looked tired and kind of angry and he was staring at my legs.

“Uhm, sorry,” I muttered and turned back toward the mirror, avoiding his gaze by peeking at him through his reflection and mindlessly rearranging supplies around in front of me.  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and stared silently at me. Eyes fluttering all over my backside. He had a one day shadow on his face and week old shadows under his eyes. The golden eye was twitching at the corner, his lips were chapped, and I was having trouble breathing.

“Let me photograph you.”

“What the fuck?” I choked, not expecting that at all.

“I’ve been watching you all week.” He breached the space between us, pinning me to the tabletop with his hips and grabbing me gently by the chin, tilting my head to catch the light. Appraising me like an artist. “I know you’ve got something beautiful underneath that chronic bitchface of yours. Let me find it.”

“I do not have chronic bitchface!” I yanked my face away, scowling at him because I totally did have chronic bitchface, and he only made it worse. My grandmother used to tell me that my face would get stuck if I left it one way too long, and he was gonna give me a permanent case of it if I wasn’t careful. “Get away from me.”

Edward lifted both hands into the air and stepped away, surrendering even though his eyes skittering down the front of my dress. “You do. But it’s fucking adorable. Do it again.”

“You are impossible,” I grumbled and pushed him aside, grabbing my coat and my purse and heading for the door. I was so done. This guy was way too much for me and I could not be trusted around him. I wouldn’t let him talk to me like this and I wouldn’t let myself wrap my legs around his waist to explore his mouth with my tongue.

See? No trust. I had to get out of here.

“Where are you going?” he growled, stepping in front of the door to block my exit.

“You did it ok? You ran me off. Get out of the way or I’m running you over.” I didn’t know how I planned to do that, exactly, as he was towering over me looking as solid as a brick wall. But I was small and determined and could probably get around him if I kicked him hard enough.

He didn’t move. Just licked his lips and huffed in my face. “You can’t leave.”

“Says who? You? Fuck you, Suspender Boy,” I snapped in his face, my cheeks burning red. “You’ve been an asshole from day one. I don’t know what your problem is, but I seem to rub you the wrong way and I’m over it.” I shoved against his chest, trying to create an escape.

“I know exactly why you rub me wrong,” he exhaled, fingers against my thigh as he dug beneath my skirt to hook two fingers in the strap of my garters. He tugged on them roughly, making me stumble toward him as though he was testing their strength. Or mine. “These fucking things have got to go,” he muttered.

“This can’t be about my clothes.”

“Oh, they’re just the start. Your personality is just about as infuriating as your attire.”

He pushed me into the room, only because I didn’t put up any resistance, then kicked the door closed behind him, stalking me until he had me pinned up against the desk. My head cracked against the mirror when he came at me, panting against my neck, pushing my dress up and groaning deeply.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he muttered, glaring at the garters that caged my thighs. “Don’t ever wear shit like this to work again.”

“You can’t tell me what to wear,” I gasped. He was only looking at my legs, if he went any further I was pretty positive he would flip out.

“I should fire you,” he growled and tried to kiss me, coming at me with an open mouth and glistening lips.

I kicked him. Hard. Right in the middle of his chest and sudden enough to send him reeling backward. One of his heels caught the edge of the mat and he groaned when he hit the floor.




Edward


My ribs were crying out and my head was spinning wildly from a solid crack against the floor, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the girl, the one wearing a pink flowery dress over a pair of fuck-me-crosseyed black leather garters. The girl who was currently crawling on top of me. Up over my legs, brushing by my hips and my stomach, straddling my chest and pinning my shoulders to the floor with her knees. The dress draped between her thighs, obscuring my view, the thick straps of her black garters disappearing beneath the hem.

“So fire me,” she dared, unbuttoning a few more buttons of my shirt and rubbing her hot damp crotch against my chest. I held onto those garters spanning the length of her thigh and shoved my face as close to her as I could get, rubbing the silky cotton of her underwear up in between her lips with the tip of my nose. Her pink dress fell over my face and turned everything rose colored and fuck, she smelled so good. Powdery and sweet.

“You can be such a dick,” Bella moaned, shoving her hips against me, a brief moment close enough to press my tongue flat before she pulled away. The hem of the dress drifted over my eyes and she blinked down at me, a firm grip on my hair with both hands. “Why do you do that?”

A knock on the door startled us both.

“Bella? The door is locked.” Jane spoke from the other side, the handle rattling.

“I need a minute,” Bella called, clamping her hand down over my mouth to keep me quiet. “Can you run down to Carlisle’s office for me and ask him about the . . . uh . . . the jellyfish?”

“What about them?” Jane pestered and I thrust my face further into Bella, moaning against that pretty pink underwear, making her squirm. She yanked viciously on my hair, trying to keep me away from her, and struggled to get rid of Jane.

“Ask . . . Ask if - if they’re poisonous,” Bella gasped, voice wobbly and her thighs trembling, pulling my hair out by the roots.

“Yeah, ok, sure!” Jane chirped and the clicking of her heels faded down the hallway. I grabbed Bella by the hips and hauled her closer, trying to get between her legs but she fought me off, scrambling to her feet. Her cheeks were flushed, breathing heavy, and she scowled down at me while she adjusted her garters.

“You need to leave,” she panted.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. We have jobs to do. Go . . . do something.” She waved her hand absently toward the door. “Before Jane comes back.”

I pulled myself to my feet, adjusting my aching dick in my pants with a grimace and shot her an evil eye as I left. “We’re not finished here.”

I waited for her for five hours. Five. And every minute of it was torture. I spent most of it finishing up the set and checking on the jellyfish, the non-poisonous kind. When the girls finally appeared, Jane was in a long dark blue robe and Bella was still wearing that fucking delectable scent. I hated her and loved her for it, all at the same time.

“Let’s see.” I waved my hand at Jane and she obligingly dropped her robe. I couldn’t help that my eyebrows raised and my mouth fell open. It was downright amazing, what had been done to this woman’s body in the last five hours. Her skin was painted with a million detailed scales, green and blue with hints of purple at the tips, studded in jewels. Most of her torso had been left free of paint, a few spare patches of scales cupping her tits and growing up the side of her neck. There was no mermaid tail, but the girl had literally been turned into a fish. Bella had fluffed her hair out and strung it through with pearls.

Perfect.

For once. The girl had talent, I had to give her that.

Jane was efficient, yet again, and gave me exactly what I needed without a struggle. I was beginning to understand why she'd come so highly recommended. I'd worked with enough models before to know that Jane was a few and far between anomaly in this world. A girl willing to do just about anything it took to get a good shot in the least amount of frames possible, which made my job as easy as it could possibly be under the circumstances.

A good thing, because I didn't think about anything but the way Bella smelled between her legs, all damn day long.

By the time I got back to my little office, I was ready to throw her down on my desk and lick every inch of her, but she was gone. Her office was dark and empty, her garters and the belt to match flopped open in the middle of my desk. I picked it up, holding it out in front of me, a complicated web of straps that looked far more like something worn in a soft core bondage flick. What was she doing to me? Was this some secret message? Or a warning? I shoved the lingerie up underneath my nose and took as deep of a whiff as I could, the faint smell of that mouthwatering irritating girl still lingering in the fabric.

I groaned out loud and threw it across the room.





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AN: Hadley Hemingway is my shooting star.