Chapter 17
BPOV
Slamming the front door, I entered my house in wrathful frustration. The people in Forks were really grating on my nearly frayed nerves. I kicked off my neon pink Chucks and stomped further into my house to the living room. Emmett sat there befuddled, his wet curls alerting that he was freshly showered after football. Charlie wasn't home yet, being that it was only 4:55. Quirking my eyebrow, I challenged Emmett to ask what was pissing me off, just daring him—I needed to vent. I also really needed a drink.
"What's with the dramatics, Izz?" he asked, accepting the challenge. That name again, great. I needed to have a talk with Emmett about calling me that, but right now I felt more selfish: I wanted to talk about my frustrations. Using my annoyance with his insistence that I was being dramatic as fuel to my anger, I responded to him.
"Fucking Forks. I swear these people are going to force me into jumping off a bridge. Why the hell are they so damn friendly?" I huffed.
"And that's a problem, why?"
"They act like I'm a Saint come to Forks, like I'm the prodigal son. It's annoying! OK so I went to the diner after school with Edward so I could apply for a job—I figured waitressing would earn me tips—and they practically hired me on the spot because I'm Bella Swan, Chief Charlie's daughter and Emmett Swan the Football Star's sister. They fawned over me the whole time, saying how great I was and they would be lucky to employ me. I hate it when people notice me almost as much as I hate it when things are easy! It almost made me turn down the damn job."
"So, what then? Did you get the job?" Emmett's confused expression hadn't changed.
"Well, yeah, I got the job… but that's beside the point! Jesus, Emmett, haven't you been listening?" I was fully aware that I was being irrational now, but I just couldn't help it. Since vacating Edward's usually warming presence, the ice in my veins returned in full force. They were out to wreak havoc on my sanity and personal relationships. I was a mess. Heaving a forced and heavy sigh I continued conversation with Emmett. "OK, I'm… sorry, or whatever. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back. I'm just gonna… put my shit away, yeah?" Emmett must have been used to bitchy mood swings because he only nodded back ok. I must be like a strong wind with a drizzly-rain compared to the thunder, lightning, and gale-force wind storms of Rosalie.
Going into the kitchen, I grabbed a coke from the fridge before running up the stairs, taking them by two, in a rush to get into my room. If I was honest with myself, I knew that the only reason why I had taken the job at that diner was because I would be allowed to wear whatever the hell I wanted—within reason—which included my favorite brand of shoes: my Chuck's. Once in my haven, I locked the door behind me having learned from previous mistakes. I threw my shit somewhere in my room, not caring where any of it landed. My room was a pitiful mess, everything out of order and chaotic: a visual metaphor of my life. Under my bed, I found my hidden stash of liquid fire. Choosing my Jack Daniels, I poured myself a shot of the whiskey. It burned its way down my throat, finding rest while blazing my empty stomach. I decided that one was not enough, but two more would suffice. Once the trifecta of shots had been taken, I chased them down with my coke, it searing my already-scorched throat with its carbonation. Yuck, I hated pop, which sadly was necessary when consuming some alcohols. After stowing the bottle and my shot glass back in their hiding spots under my bed, my weary eyes drifted around my room. They settled upon a very comfortable pair of pink sweats, which I instantly donned. I went to the bathroom to swish with mouthwash; although Emmett wouldn't be opposed to a drink, I also didn't need his unwanted questions.
My descent down the stairs to see Emmett was slower than the climb that had led away from him. My hands were slightly shaking and I couldn't figure-the-fuck-out as to why. My anxiety has been on mega-high levels since making my decision to leave Phoenix. I somewhat started to regret leaving behind my newly prescribed anti-anxiety/depression meds. Forks was beginning to seem cathartic in some ways, but it didn't entirely quell the anxiety that boiled and pitted against my insides. I realized that I needed something stronger than booze to relax me.
"Hey Emmett?" I called, thanking god that our police-chief father wasn't home yet. Emmett looked up at me from the sofa he was watching TV from.
"Yeah Belley?" he tested. I had to admit, I liked that nickname much more than his others.
"Don't… judge," I cautioned while doing my best to contour my face into something innocent-looking. My hands were constantly threading themselves: intertwining as if to twist away the anxiety in my being. He nodded slowly in acquiescence before I continued. "Uhm… do you know where I could get some pot around here maybe? I just really want to chill out, you know?" My cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment, the warmth staining them red. I hoped like hell that he'd understand my need. I had never smoked pot before, but I had heard wonders about its calming effects.
"Did I just hear you correctly? Does Bella, my baby sister, want some weed!" he asked incredulously. I merely rolled my eyes. I had just known that he would make this difficult for me. That, or tell dad.
"Yes, Emmett. Fuck."
"Whoa there Tiger chill out! I can see why you need the weed: you're wound up tight!" He paused to laugh not-so-quietly to himself. "Ya want some right now?" My expression must have betrayed my surprise because he started laughing again, but softly this time.
"Now?" I was also unable to hide the shock from my question.
"Yea, you can have some of mine. But don't smoke a joint in the house: that would be incredibly stupid," he concluded.
"Shit, Emmett. I didn't know you smoked. I've never smoked though… could I just bake it in something? I've seen that in movies… I can do that right?" My lack of experience with the illegal substance was extremely noticeable and to Emmett, funny.
"You did, huh? A good ol' Cheech and Chong movie, yeah?" He guffawed. Emmett was always easily amused. I sighed and waited for him in hopes of getting my question answered sometime in the near future. He seemed to recognize my impatience so he continued. "Yes, Bella, you can bake it in something. I might suggest brownies… and I'd also suggest giving me one, or two. I'll give you enough shit so you can make a decent batch to save for sometime in the future." Damn, my brother was generous. I really did love him—with or without his connections.
"Emmett! I… thank you!" I gave him a big half-in-the-bag grin; I was, after all, starting to feel the effects of my whiskey shots now. He shrugged off his generosity and disappeared to his room for a moment before returning with his baggie of the greenish, brownish basil-like substance. Immediately, I went to work on dinner and my brownies. I needed the calming effect in my system in an imminent way. For dinner, I decided to fry up some of the fish Charlie had caught that weekend, hoping to make him happy so he wouldn't notice my future highness, along with a nice big salad. Scooping a little of the brownie batter into a tiny baking-pan, I made a small amount of normal brownies for my dad to enjoy before I added Emmett's Mary Jane—as he referred to it— to the rest of the mix in the bowl. I should have known that the always calm Emmett was a pot head. The fact was even more ironic because of who our father was and that Emmett had just aided—although anonymously—in the biggest drug bust in Forks' history. I laughed at these facts to myself while preparing our dinner and dessert.
My body was buzzing with excitement at the prospect of taking something new that would calm and numb me—something more than the whiskey my body was sadly used to. The burn that alcohol elicited as it seared its way down to my stomach contradicted the ice in my veins almost uncomfortably. Drunkenness didn't give me nearly enough of a high or numbness, which is why I had decided to turn to other alternatives. The brownies were ready first; my need to self-medicate outweighed the family's collective need to eat dinner. Well I'll be damned, I thought. They smell like regular brownies. I placed all of the brownies—regular and hash—to the side to cool off while I finished preparing the rest of our meal. Once the fish was fried and being kept warm in the oven, I set to frosting Charlie's normal brownies so they'd be more appealing than my pot-ones. Everything was ready and waiting for the arrival of my father so dinner could begin. Feeling on edge, I decided to have one of my special browniesbefore dinner. Emmett, watching me, offered me a caution.
"Belley, you only need half of one—you're so tiny!" he called out. Anyone next to Emmett could look tiny, and I was no Alice: petite and pixy-like. I rolled my eyes at him but did as he suggested, eating only half of my correctly-portioned bud-brownies. They tasted normal enough to me, but that could have been a side effect of the whiskey that had scoured my tongue not forty-minutes beforehand. I definitely rivaled Betty Crocker with how good my brownies had turned out though—I was good at baking! I left one hash-brownie for Emmett, as promised, on the plate with my father's frosted normal ones before storing the rest of my special ones in a tin and taking it up to my room for under-the-bed storage along with my collection of alcohol bottles. I was taking no chances in leaving a whole stash of psychedelic brownies lying in the open on the kitchen counter with my cop of a father walking around. While I was in my room, I heard the front door open and shut before I had made it back down to the kitchen. I was glad I hid them when I did. My hands started feeling slightly cold and heavy as I assumed that was the weed taking affect. Licking my lips, I realized that my mouth was slightly going dry. I was in serious need of some liquid refreshment.
Before joining Emmett in the living room and after downing a whole coke, I noticed that he had taken his brownie off of the platter of frosted brownies—he obviously didn't want to wait until after dinner. Inwardly, I giggled at how alike we both were. I sat with him and we waited for our dad to finish putting away his gear before beginning dinner with him at the kitchen table. We all smiled and greeted each other in typical family fashion, asking how the other's day went, not really offering much in the way of how our own had gone. Charlie seemed to really be enjoying the fish I fried: he just kept eating more and more. I had looked up the recipe especially for him. He was so parched that he had to get one or two other beers from the fridge to quench his seemingly overbearing thirst. I, not liking fish, only ate a salad. Secretly, I was saving my stomach for more brownies once I could escape to my room. We all settled into a comfortable silence as the only sound was the scraping of silverware against plates and the passing of dishes. The pot I had ingested was becoming fully active as everything started to move in slow motion. I felt almost as if I were in a Dali painting, the world was moving so slowly that it might start to melt. That combined with the insatiable hunger I was feeling along with the insane desire to giggle was interesting to say the least.
"Oh god—Bells—those brownies you made?" Charlie stated, but it came out more like a question. "They were so good! I can't remember the last time I had brownies that good! You must have gotten the recipe from Renee—she used to make excellent brownies. Sometimes, though, she spiked hers with a little marijuana. Don't tell your mother I told you that. She'll kill me. But what can I say? She was such a little rebel back then," chuckled my dad. He leaned over the table with his laughter, almost as if he was unable to breathe. At first I found this quite hilarious: for obvious reasons being that the ones I had made for myself did have weed in them, and that I did get the recipe from my mom… but also just seeing Charlie all giddy like that sent me over the edge into my own fit of giggles. While trying to capture my breath, my eyes scanned the too-small kitchen. I looked to the brownie platter expecting to see it quite emptied, except it was the same as I had seen it when I first came downstairs. OH shitfuckdamn! I mentally cursed. The realization that Charlie might have eaten my pot-brownie that had been intended for Emmett was quite startling.
"Dad?" I tested, trying to keep my composure after my giggle-fit. "Did you have one of the frosted brownies that I had specifically made for you?" I asked. I hoped against hope and prayed to the God I didn't have faith in that my dad had only removed a slice of the frosted brownie instead of a whole one that I assumed he would have.
"No, Bella I'm trying to watch my sugar intake! I took one of the powdered-sugar ones," he managed in between his crinkly-eyed laughter. I punched Emmett under the table for not eating the damn brownie himself, unable to keep my rage to under control. It was my fault for assuming that Charlie would eat a frosted brownie and that Emmett would just somehow know that the only un-frosted one was his. But fuck-it-all if I wasn't upset none-the-less. I. Was. Royally. Screwed.
Unbelievably screwed.
Fucked, undeniably.
Damn it!
I was starting to sound like Edward—every other word a profanity. I couldn't help it though; my anger was hard-wired to three things: my tears, blushes, and curse-words. The need to fix this was overwhelming; it took over. Even in my alcohol and marijuana haze, my stress went through the roof. Charlie was giggling now at his reflection in a spoon, acting like it was the funniest shit he'd ever seen. If my dad needed to take a random drug test anytime soon, I could have just cost him his job and pension with my foolishness. I had only been in Forks just over a week and already I was ruining his life like this. Ever since the accident, from time to time when things get really bad: I wish that I had actually died in the crash along with my old shitty car. This whole dad-being-high thing was totally killing my pot-brownie buzz.
As if Emmett caught my brain waves, he cleared his throat trying to get our dad's attention. "Dad, wow, aren't you just bushed? I mean, that dinner was so good and filling. Plus you got home late. I think we should hit the sack." Emmett soothingly suggested. He sounded as though he was talking to a five year old, trying to convince them it was naptime. It was late, though. Charlie had come home later than usual: not showing up until seven-forty-five. It was now eight-thirty, plenty late enough for my dad to go to bed.
"Oh yeah. Yeah, you're right Emmett. I am tired. Woo! Great dinner Bells! Excellent brownies," my father called before trudging up the stairs. I looked to Emmett and burst into a fit of laughter as soon as I heard my dad's bedroom door shut. Suddenly, and it might be the pot, but suddenly everything seemed so funny.
"Oh my god. Dad's high!" I whisper-giggled to Emmett.
"Damn Bella! Those were some strong ass brownies! It nearly knocked dad on his ass. What, with those beers, I thought he was going to strip naked and dance to some crappy old music!"
"Oops!" I giggled. "Did you ever think you'd see the day?" I asked, fully knowing that our straight-laced father would never again be high—especially by my own doing.
"Oh fuck, you're high too. Belley, I got the dishes, you just… go be high somewhere else and try to stay out of trouble," Emmett said, starting to clear the table of our dishes. He never did that, ever. I thought he was upset with me until I saw him laughing to himself, muttering about me. He was right, though: I was definitely high now. It felt a-ma-zing. While completely being on the verge of giggles and any second, my body was tingling all over. Going to my bedroom seemed to be like the best course of action, especially with the promise of the other half of the brownie that was waiting for me under my bed.
Once in my bedroom, after locking the door I put on some Pink Floyd which seemed appropriate for my current state. As I had promised myself, I finished the other half of the brownie I had started eating. Lying on my bed, it felt as if I was floating on clouds: my body was swirling with tingling sensations. To say that I felt good would be a gross understatement. I couldn't recall a previous time that I felt this amazing or better. The sensations started at the crown of my head and trickled down in pleasurable eddies of electricity that tickled and lapped at my skin, coming from the inside. It passed over my shoulders and down my chest and arms, making goose bumps rise on my arms and my nipples to harden as it continued to trickle down to the tips of my toes and back up again, settling in-between my legs in a surprising turn. I giggled at the awareness: it felt too damn wonderful to be real. I considered texting Edward, but my fingers felt too heavy with this delicious feeling my body was consumed with. It could have been mere minutes or hours that I laid on my bed, feeling wonderful, listening to Pink Floyd before I heard a knock at my window.
Sitting up, Edward was suddenly inside my room having just climbed through my window. If I wasn't high I would have assumed that he materialized out of thin air. His startlingly beautiful green eyes caught my attention—I became locked in his gaze. Attempting to get off the bed and walk to him, I stumbled and tripped. Looking down, I was shocked to find that my jeans were unbuttoned and around my knees. Oh Shit! I realized, Was I touching myself? Oh God! That would be the reason for the odd smirk on Edward's face. I hadn't even realized that I was doing that… in my heightened sensual awareness, I must have sought to release the delightful building tension. Quickly pulling my pants up when I realized that they were down, I blushed with embarrassment. No words came to mind to remedy this situation I found myself in.
"Uhh…" I stumbled for words, "…Hi." Even after my lame greeting, Edward still appeared to be dumbstruck. It was a few moments before his purpose came back to him.
"Bella, why the hell didn't you answer your phone?" he worriedly questioned. "I must have called five times. I had texted you before that to tell you that I was going to stop by."
"Oh. I… didn't know. I've been a little out of it," I fluttered through. Unexpectedly the awkward tension I first felt when Edward had arrived dissipated and a renewed fit of giggles overtook me. Oh, God, I loved weed now.
"Why are you laughing?" Edward's bad boy façade was starting to crumble now as he looked even more bewildered than when he entered with my pants down. I finally recovered myself enough to stumble over to him and wrap my comparatively small arms around him. I kissed his chin, the only part of his face I could reach without getting on my tip-toes.
"Chill, man." Rushing to the side of my bed, I pulled out my tin of brownies, smiling hugely as I did. "Want one?"
"A brownie? … Pet, have you been drinking again? How many shots have you had?... Did you just call me man?"
"They're not just any brownies, Edward. They're… special," I tried to insinuate, ignoring his alcohol comment, but apparently my skills at conveying hidden meanings were slightly out of order at the moment.
At first Edward frowned, thinking I had gone off the deep end. Really, Edward? I thought. He was supposed to be this bad boy, but at the moment he was acting like a goody-goody innocent that didn't know that one could spike brownies with pot. When the realization dawned on his face, it was fiercely so, which only served to increase my laughter.
"Holy shit, Bella, did you put pot in those brownies?" It was silly how astonished he seemed. He was reacting so oddly, that it only infused me with more hilarity which irritated him faintly. Ah, yes—bad, angry Edward was back. "Stop laughing! I'm only surprised because Charlie's home… and you're high… while he's home," he tried to recover—it didn't fool me.
"So what? He accidently ate one. He's high too," I managed in-between giggles.
"What! Fuck! Bella, did you get in trouble? Is that why you weren't answering—you don't have your phone?"
"Pa ha ha! He didn't even realize he was high! He just kept drinking his beer and scarfing down his dinner! If I wasn't so paranoid when it happened, I probably would have peed from laughing so damn hard," I explained.
"Oh."
Edward looked intensely attractive in his all-black clothing that he had worn to school. The sadness he experienced at lunch had since left him, leaving his face and posture in their sexy-goodness. My body started to swirl with the undulating sensations I had felt before Edward knocked on my window. My cheeks began to flush, which strangely felt amazing: usually I found it terribly embarrassing. Ditching the brownies on the floor, I slowly stalked toward him, longing for his soft caresses that was beginning to be his habit—always touching me. I wanted some relief from the concentration of blood flowing to in-between my legs. His eyes followed me and his arms wrapped around me when I finally reached him.
"Edward," I breathily broke the silence. I pulled away from him minutely, only to drag him slowly towards my bed with me. Pulling his hands from my back, I placed them on my sensitive chest, squeezing my hands over his. Leaving his hands there, I slid mine down to the button of his jeans while keeping eye contact with him. The pads of his thumbs traced the edges of my nipples, causing me to involuntarily moan at the pleasure rocketing through my body. I could see him stiffen the moment I caught him staring at me when he first came in so I hoped he wouldn't deny my needs now. Every touch of his brought the swirling tingling I had been feeling on my bed earlier to a whole new level. The electricity intensified gloriously. I craved his hands on my bare skin. Not realizing that my breathing had become a bit labored, I brought my bottom lip in-between my teeth, trying with all my might to not just rip off both of our clothes right then.
When Edward realized that my hands were on his pants, he quickly moved his to stop mine. "Bella, we… we can't," he unsurely stated.
"But Edward, I'm so horny!" I whined, and jutted out my bottom lip in pouting.
"I know babe, I am too… but you're high and I'm sober. It wouldn't be right," he attempted to convince me. I, however, was not having it.
"So! You're my boyfriend, which means that varying states of sobriety doesn't matter… it means we can fool around whenever… Edward," I huffed, "It's making me sohorny. I need you." It was true, I did need him. It had been two months since I had felt release—I needed this—it was a lonely two months. Edward already meant more to me than I could fully realize then. A physical act between us could surely only strengthen our bond that was being forged.
He looked so conflicted, which I decided to take advantage of. I removed my hands from his and placed mine on his chest over the dark fabric that covered his lithe hardened muscles, slightly squeezing them as I brought my lips to his. At first I let my lips feel the soft lushness that were his lips in the midst of all his rebellious stubble. Then I crushed mine to them, bringing the ferocity of my feelings into the kiss. Pressing my body flush against his, I could feel his erection harden more, proving that his need matched mine. Our tongues battled out our wills, pressing into each other, much like how I wanted our bodies to be matched: give and take. I backed us into the bed a little bit. My fingers of my left hand had found their way into his messy copper hair; they entwined in them strongly. My hungry kiss traveled along his strong, stubbly jaw, tracing my way to his ear, which I nibbled. Edward lost his composure then. He threw me backwards on the bed, about to hover over me, he found his chivalry again.
"Shit! Damn it Bella. You know guys only think with their cock… I can't. I'm not… I'm not high. I can't take advantage of you like this." Anguish crept into his brilliant jade eyes, half extinguishing the fiery emerald passion in them.
"I was counting on it…" I replied under my breath from my reclined position on my bed. "Well, have some brownies… I did offer them to you." I persuaded. I saw his eyes resting on my heaving breast. My heart was pounding; I wanted him to give-in and jump at the opportunity to prevent him from getting blue-balls to literally jump on me. His lack of response somewhat hinted that I might win this argument. I lifted myself off the bed, slowly and pressed my body flush against his body again. Lazily, I dragged the tip of my tongue on my bottom lip, tasting where he had been. Delicious. I looked down to the swell in the front of his dark jeans, and bit my lip, hoping this might work. Peaking up at him through my lashes, I lightly smiled. Oh, how I wanted him. Bringing my nose to rest on his chest, I took in his glorious smell—citrus and honey, yet musky. It was intoxicating. His chest swelled with a slow calculated breath. I dragged my nose from his chest, with my hands braced on his abdomen, up his throat where I stopped to place a soft kiss before acquiring his eye contact. Suddenly, his lips were a frenzy on mine, instantly deepening our already-frantic kiss. I took his passion-consumed moment to take advantage of the situation, so I tried to spin him around, and threw him to my bed while I hovered on top of him, still pressed against him. My aching groin found his hardened dick through his jeans and it gave me the friction I had been searching for as I rotated my hips softly into him.
Straddling him, I reached down to the bottom of my shirt and quickly yanked it over my head with a smooth grace I usually lacked. Internally, I was thanking my lucky stars I had chosen to wear my lacy-red bra today. Honesty, though, after previously having a boyfriend for two years, most of my underwear and bras were sexy. I leaned over and brought my lips again to his, the bra-shot he had just gotten clearly intensified his desire for me as he practically devoured my face, enjoyably so. I reached my hand down between us to his stiffened dick, rubbing the outside of his bulging jeans. I must have hit the good spot because suddenly Edward was very aware of where my hands were on his body. He went rigid as he realized he was losing his resolve, and pulled my hand from between us, curling his fingers around my tiny wrists.
"Shit! Bella, sugar, you know I want to… but we shouldn't. You shouldn't do anything that you could regret," Edward exhaustedly repeated. I was beyond sexually frustrated at the moment. Weed was like some aphrodisiac to me that warranted a strong need for a release.
"Edward… please. I won't regret it. I'm… so horny. It almost is painful… I—I… please," I begged, actually begged. I craved his touch, needed it. Why was he holding out on me? Weren't teenage boys supposed to be uncontrollably aroused all the time? They were supposed to be the ones begging for sex acts. It wasn't fair that now I was the one that had to beg for it.
"Bella, I can't let you get me off, it wouldn't be right…but," he contemplated. "Do you… well I mean, if you really wanted me to, I could… help you out?" He meant it as a question but I saw his own selfish want in this—he wanted to touch me, it was obvious. What he didn't realize was that I wanted him to touch me even more than he did.
"Yes," I exhaled while nodding. Edward released my wrists carefully while a new look of determination set on his devastatingly handsome face. His fingers moved with sensual ease to my hips, which he firmly but gently gripped, lifting me off of him slightly. In a swift, controlled motion, he rolled us over on the bed so that I was flat against my back and he hovering over me on his side. The intensity of our gaze was never broken. I slid my sweatpants down my legs when Edward appeared to be hesitating. Seeing me fully unclothed, in only my bra and underwear—which appeared to be matching today—Edward lost his composure and crushed his lips to mine in frenzy. His hand grasped my breast, squeezed, and his thumb stroked slow circles eliciting a moan from me. My body spiked a pleasurable reaction and all I wanted was for the aching between my legs to be relieved. Slowly, his hands traced an unknown path down the exposed skin on my stomach, trailing down to the hem of my underwear. The anticipation alone would have killed me if he hadn't slid his hand underneath them. When Edward's hand met with my bare skin, it looked as though his eyes were bulging out of his head.
"Fuck, sugar, you're bare?" He groaned.
"Yeah… I just like it better that way." I whispered shyly, confused as to if this meant he thought it was a good or a bad thing. The sly grin that tugged at his mouth answered my question.
"You're so damn hot," he whispered in a deep, sensual voice—his lips next to my ear and gave them a little nip. Arousal seeped through my being and out between my legs.
His fingers traveled further down, tracing small circles that taunted me until he hit the slick wetness in my slit. When his finger hit the swollen sensitive part my whole body shivered in excitement. Slowly, as if to tease me, his fingers gently circled my clit, working his magic. A warmth I hadn't felt in ages filled my body as I began to flush with the building of tension. Settling in my gut, the pleasurable pressure began to build. He sped his movements when he noticed I was getting close. His needy lips found mine as we selfishly consumed each other; his need matching my own. It wasn't long until my hips were bucking in orgasm, and pleasurable spasms rocked my body; stars rocketing through my mind. I moaned his name through clenched teeth—the god that brought me to orgasm in record time. After having the release I had begged for, the combination of post-orgasm bliss and weed was making me drowsy—almost drifting off to sleep entirely. Edward, noticing that I was almost no longer conscious broke the comfortable silence that had settled in the wake of my orgasm.
"Bella, sugar, I should go—you need sleep," he chastely kissed my forehead as he uttered those words. Hearing that he might be leaving me jolted me into alertness.
"No! Wait; don't go… just… please stay 'til I fall asleep?" I begged unabashedly. I fluttered my eyelids in struggle to keep them open.
"Fine. But you're going to have to put on something more decent so I don't decide to take advantage of you when you fall asleep," he half-joked. I knew Edward would never be as sleazy as to actually take advantage of a girl passed out. He may be a bad boy but he wasn't a creepy asshole. I, however, obliged to his request and lifted my nearly-exhausted body off my bed. I wasn't ashamed by my state of undress. After having Jake admire my body for so long I sort of got used to the attention paid to it. Edward having noticed that I was struggling with fatigue, stood to help me dress. We picked out a deep gray fitted t-shirt and the pink sweatpants. It was with a loving pride that he put my shirt on for me, even though I was capable of doing it myself. I put my pants on myself, though. When I was fully dressed, our eyes meeting, Edward kissed my forehead and kissed slow soft kisses down my nose to my lips.
"You're lovely when you cum," he stated matter-of-factly. There was a sensual edge that was clearly detectable in his declaration.
"Your hands are magical," I sighed. He quirked his crooked-smile—my favorite one—as he took in my compliment, slightly chuckling at the way my exhaustion colored the statement.
"Mmm… I think it's bedtime," he declared as he took my hand and led me to my bed. With his free hand he pulled the covers down and laid me in them. Surprisingly, he covered me up with them before lying down next to me. Engulfing me in his wide arm-span, he spooned me. Usually I detested spooning and found it a ridiculous way to sleep, but with Edward it was different. I needed him this close to me.
"Sweet dreams," he whispered and kissed the side of my head.
"Mmm." His honey, musk, and sunshine scent lulled me right to sleep.
That night was the first that I had dreams, but not my nightmare of darkness. I knew that it had everything to do with the fact that it was Edward's scent that enticed me into a safe sleep. Surprisingly though, my dreams were of Jacob and our previous relationship. It was a nightmare in the sense that while I dreamt of him, I felt a void in my heart. As I recalled in my sleep the times we had fooled around, the extreme feeling of happiness and fulfillment was missing. I realized that my relationship with Jake had been one of convenience because now was when I truly felt fulfillment as I drifted off to sleep in Edward's strong, safe, and magical arms.
