for amber

for stacey

7 ghosts I
(Nine Inch Nails - Ghosts... maybe give this track a listen, on repeat, while reading... :)
for blackbird <3

I exhaled, feeling the skin on my face and neck and chest all overheat as I leaned back into my chair, crossing my legs underneath myself.

The little gift box remained out of my hands, across from me. On my desk it sat. Unopened. Almost completely untouched.

It was marked discretely white. It taunted me.
But every time I went to lift it’s lid, I hesitated; and was pulled back toward my chair by the feeling of the paper between my fingers.

My Lamb,
This tonight. And only, this.
Wait patiently, and keep your beautiful hands away from what is only mine.
-Edward xx

It was thin parchment - a corner torn from one of the pages of my notebook that sat open on my desk.

I exhaled again, fanning my face with the torn corner.

Anything could be in that box.

And I’d wear - use, attach, ingest, gladly take - anything for him.

It was this thought that gave me courage, and I leaned forward to the edge of my seat once more.

I traced the parameters of the small parcel, all the lines that made up the outline of the little white box. Curling my fingertips under the lid’s ridge, I pulled upward slowly.

Inside, wrapped in layers of light pink tissue paper was a teeny,
tiny,
skirt.

Sliding my hand underneath it, I searched the tissue paper with my other. But there was nothing else in the box.

A curl of excitement ribboned my lips up into my cheeks, a spiral of anticipation thrilling me from head to toe, as I lifted the skirt with both hands then.
I loosened my grip, holding the soft piece of lace and satin and thin, dainty chiffon, so carefully in my hands. I was so afraid of tearing or fraying any bit of it, of ruining it in any way.

Under the black satin that made up the surface of the skirt, was layer after articulately stitched, delicately patterned, pastelpink lace so thin, so fine that the slightest pressure of a too-careless finger would shred it.

I couldn’t begin to image what he’d paid for it, the miles he’d traveled to find it and pick it. His intentions, his dedication and determination - the possibilities made my head spindizzy.

The hours after that were all waiting - all nervous tugging at my long sleeves and jacket seams. Fraying the ends of my scarf. Closing and opening my hands, stretching my fingers.

I booked it home from work and tried to take my time in the shower.

I knew he wouldn’t arrive until tonight, and that I should have busied myself - that I should probably lay in the bath and relax and make the wait at least feel like it wasn’t taking so long.

But I couldn’t.

I ached inside and out with want.

And I couldn't wait to feel that lace on my bare skin, smooth and softened by warm water.

That was what took the most of my waiting time - putting the skirt on.
I sat in my towel, on the edge of my bed, just eying it for the longest time. I was so nervous about pulling it up my legs and around my hips. I did not, did not want to rip any little bit of it. He would notice, and I wanted it to be perfect for him.

Ever so carefully, I lifted one bare foot from my carpet, then the other, and started to work the chiffon up my legs. I took minutes inching it over my calves, the fronts and backs of my knees, and so cautiously up my thighs. I stood finally, and brought it as high as it would go, to rest dangerously low on my hips.
I returned the towel back to the bathroom rack and returned to my room to stand topless in front of my mirror.

Realizing as I turned ‘round and ‘round that I couldn’t sit in the teeny skirt without creasing or crinkling it, I glanced over at my desk clock to see how much time I had left.

The sun had set, but there was probably at least another hour before he’d show.
I felt my heartbeat in the ache between my legs and I pressed my thighs together tightly as my want for his kisses, his words, his touch, intensified.

Edward was so good to me, always so good to me. And sometimes, when I was an especially good girl, he took extra special care to make my heart beat faster.
It was this thought and this hope that I concentrated hardest on as I opened my window and moved back to my bed. Unable to sit, I knelt in the center of it. I faced the window and rested my hands; one over the other, in my lap.

Trying not to look at the clock or not to count the seconds that ticked by in my own head, night finally settled around me.

I looked down at my hands. I opened them and inspected my palms and didn’t even hear him scale the side of the house.

My eyes shot up as he placed his hands on my windowsill and pulled himself up and inside.

His lips twitched like he wanted to grin, but he kept his face stern.

XxX

I’d been aching to devour her since I left her office.

And the sight of her knelt on her bed, in nothing but my gift, hands in her lap, waiting, so obedient to her need and my will - it was almost too much.

She flinched toward me, but caught herself and remained still.

“Good girl,” I breathed, letting a halfsmile take it’s shape on my lips. I stepped to her bed and extended my hand to hers.

She took it for balance, and stood before me. I wrapped both of my arms around her bare middle and traced her sides with my hands as she folded forward and hugged me tightly.

“Happy birthday,” I whispered, kissing the crown of her head.

“Thank you,” she replied, shivering against me as I traced my fingertips from the small of her back, up her backbone, to the back of her neck. I slid the fingers of my right hand into her hair and closed my left around her hip.

Nudging her back, I tilted my head and hovered my mouth over hers, breathing just over her slightly parted lips. I watched as the quiver started in them, and loved it. I worked harder than she knew to resist the urge to press forward and feel it give between my teeth.

I pulled back, denying her and I both the pleasure.

Sliding my other hand through her hair and down her arm, I clasped her smaller hand in my own and raised it above her head, signaling her to turn ‘round for me.
She flushed a the most delicious hues of pink and twirled on her tiptoes in slow motion, all the way around before facing me again.

I hummed in approval, taking in the sight of her and placing my hands on each of her hips. I lifted her easily, nuzzling the crook of her neck as she draped her arms around mine. I could feel her relief was over her as she lulled forward into my chest. It was followed by another shiver, like when I’d traced her spine just moments ago.

“My Lamb,” I said against her skin, letting my lips and tongue tease her pulse as it began to pick up.

Cradling her head with one hand, I laid her back onto her bed and knelt over her, resting one of my knees between each of hers.

Her eyes were wide despite her heavy lids threatening to fall closed over them.
I leaned down closer, placing my left hand on the pillow next to her face. She inhaled deeply, and shyly brushed her cheek against my wrist.

I brought my other hand to her forehead, stroking the strands of black back from her forehead and feathering just the tips of my fingers down her cheek.
Her eyelids fluttered. Her mouth opened a little wider. Her whole body rolled like a softwave, up ward, against my stomach and hips.

“You’ve waited so patiently for me,” I continued, barely tip-tapping the line of her jaw, from her cheek to her chin. She panted quietly, a faint whimper shadowing the undertones of her breaths.

“My beautiful...”

I slid my the tips of my pointer and middle fingers from the underside of her chin, down the curve of her throat.

“Beautiful... "

She tilted her head back, arching her neck for me. I purred approval deep in my chest, and let my fingers slide gently sideways, along her collarbone.

“Birthday girl.”

She cooed softly, and let her head fall to the side as I continued to run the fronts and backs of my fingertips over her trembling throat.

“I trust,” I whispered, dropping my voice an octave as I dropped my face closer to her skin. “That you didn’t just open your gift...”

Her head was tilted back too far for me to see her eyes, but I heard them blinking swiftly. I dropped my fingers lower and traced the outlines of the flower on the side of her chest, the front of her shoulder, jealous of the ink that was always inside her.

“But that you read the note as well...”

She rolled upward again, her fingers grasping fistfuls of sheets at her sides as blew cool air across her chest and neck. I trailed my fingers lower, down the middle of her chest, the soft curves of her breasts while her entire torso rose and fell with each breath she panted in and out.

She started nodding her head as my fingers swirled lower, around her bellybutton, along the seam of her skirt. She was beautiful in her desperation, laid out and begging for me.

It was her birthday, but she was my gift.

I was going to open her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Yes, I did. I’ve been good for you. Please...”

“Please what, Lamb?”

She arched her back as i dropped my hand to the outside of her thigh and began drawing it slowly back up.

“Please,” she begged again. “Please give to me.”

I gently kissed the bend of her jaw, down the side of her neck, the brightly coloured tips of the petals on her flower. Taking care to keep my lips as soft as I could, I slid my hand higher and brushed her bare skin.

She had read her note. She was so good for me.

And I would give to her.

That special gift that I only gave to her on our most sacred nights together.
In a quick instant, I moved down her bed and positioned myself between her legs, parting her thighs with each of my hands.

She bucked and writhed, not to get away, but to get more contact.

“Look at me, little Lamb,” I gently ordered.

She raised her head slowly.

I stared hard at her and slid my grip higher, my hands taking over her inner thighs and squeezing slightly.

I stroked my right thumb over the artery that was just under, and thrumming loudly with her redlife.

“Keep your eyes on mine, understand?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, shaking her head and leaning up onto her elbows.

I grinned wide at her surrender, and gave her right leg a nudge out of the way, so that I could lean down closer to her left, the one I was still stroking with my thumb.

Still watching her eyes, I lowered my lips to her skin and pressed my open mouth to the symphony of skin and blood just under it. It beat to my song, in rhythm with my need for her. It called out and begged for me.

Pressing my tongue flat against that precious curve, where inner thigh met perfect sweetness, I sucked gently at her skin, just for a moment, just long enough for her to lose her breath.

She slid her hand through my hair as I did so, and that was all it took.
I opened my mouth wider and cut my teeth into her warm skin, the rush of her blood so loud in my ears I barely even heard it as she cried out. Half pained, half pleasured, all enamored ecstasy.

I sucked, hard at first, heavy pulls from the inside of her leg. And she jerked and thrashed under me, still crying out, her face perfectly twisted up in lust. But she kept her eyes open and on mine, and after the first few swallows I went softer on her.

Pulling my mouth back, I lapped at the tiny cuts with my tongue, alternating between soft licks and easy, suckling kisses.

I ran my tongue, red with her blood, along my top lip before returning it to the curve of her thigh and she clenched her eyes shut.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Don’t stop. Please, God, don’t stop...”

I growled as I pushed my mouth back to her leg, and cut into her again, less than an inch above the first crescent shape I made another, overlapping it.

The rush of blood was louder this time, and so was her cry. She arched her back up off her bed and I moved my hand under her, steadying her via the small of her back. With my other, I gathered a handful of black satin and pink lace, and tore, bringing her closer to me, pressing her harder to my mouth.

I knew I’d have to stop soon and I sucked harder, taking as much of her as I dared allow. Tearing more of her skirt, sliding my hand under it and against her slick skin, I pushed my middle finger inside of her.

My name rang out, over and over and over as she rocked against my hands and lips, and tongue and teeth.

“Thank you,” she was panting, barely able to breath at all, her voice all but gone.

“Thank you,” she was saying, her fingers stroking through my hair so softly. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you...”

When I took from her like this, she called it giving. When she wanted me to take from her, she always asked so sweetly, for me to please give to her.
When she shined like this, I understood why.

Lapping carefully at the cuts, smoothing them safely over, I licked at my lips and crawled up her shaking body.

She curled on her side and I held her close, made warm enough by the gift she gave me, that I could actually warm her when we embraced.

“Thank you,” I whispered back, holding one arm around her tightly and tracing the hand of my other down her back to rifle through the tattered bits of her skirt.
I grinned as I kissed her forehead and she drifted toward sleep.

“Thank you, little Lamb.”

for Kari (TwiCharmed)

On Top of the Covers
(with love, on your birthday)
To: TwiCharmed
From: YellowGlue


never in the sheets, she likes it on top of the covers...
-Girl Talk: Play Your Part


One year ago today, I was carrying her from the forest floor - passed out, freezing cold. Her red-from-the-wind cheeks had matched her red-from-crying eyes.


Not her birthday, but two days after it. That day we don’t talk about...


She spent her birthday this year in Florida with her mother, and two days later now, she was due at the airport any minute.


I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right where I stood next to Charlie, awaiting her arrival. We made eye contact in our peripherals, each of us semi-smiling.


Awkward. Standing next to him was beyond awkward.


Last year we were friends - or the closest thing Charlie had to friends for as much time as he liked to spend alone. He’d fallen all over himself thanking me for weeks for returning his daughter to him safe and sound.


The last few months had been a slightly different story though.


In truth and fairness, that was both our faults. While Charlie didn’t “know” anything for a fact, the way she looked at me was obvious to anyone who could see it, and I hadn’t kept her very honest when I was helping her sneak out her window every other night.


I couldn’t help it. She hadn’t given it up yet, but fuck if I didn’t want to spend every hour I could with my body up against hers.


Over our clothes usually. Mouths open, taking and giving kisses in turn. Hands coming to know the feel of one another's hardest and softest places. On top of the blankets in my bed, we’d turn and tangle for hours, until she was this blushing, begging little thing, whimpering and grinding and all Please, Sam... Please.


When I lit her up just right - teased her relentlessly and drew her pleasure out with soft touches, kissing and sucking and nipping with my teeth at the bottom of her tummy where she’d let me push her shirt up... When I held her release from her and made her me ask for it, she’d shake from her head to her curling little toes when she came, bucking her hips against my hand through her jeans. Then she’d erupt into this adorable fit of almost completely breathless giggles.


I loved that sound, loved seeing that smile on her face. All pleased and grateful, not a worry or care or pain in her whole world. I wanted to make her that happy all the time.


I licked my lips and dropped my eyes to my shoes, trying to hide the grin the following thought brought to my face.


I could just tie her to my bed and keep her there. Feed her by hand. Tease and worship her body with mine, constantly - the way it deserves to be. The way she deserves to be.


I dragged my hand down my face, pushing the thought from my mind. The last thing I needed while I was standing next to her Dad was a hard-on.


I scanned the crowds of people for her face, looking for her in an effort to clear my mind. It was really no use though. I hadn’t seen her in days, and every part of me was acutely and achingly aware of it: Her absence, my missing her. Her pending arrival, all the things I wanted to do to show her how much I’d missed her...


The night before she’d left, she’d surprised me in the best way.


The blankets on my bed were a mess from the hour or so we’d spent twisting and rocking against one another. I’d break from her lips to kiss her neck, the top of her chest, her stomach where she’d let me push her camisole up but not all the way off. But I couldn’t stay away for long, I’d return my lips to hers after just minutes. She had the sweetest mouth - all those soft sounds she made, the taste and feel of her tongue, the way her jaw would fall slack and her mouth would just hang open, gasping in shallow breaths right before she broke apart...


Her departure the next morning made me hungry for every kiss I could take before she left. And she was not without want of her own.


“Relax, baby,” I shushed her gently, my lips near her ear. She ground her hips against mine, desperate and frantic for friction, pressure, release. She was working too hard. She was going to lose it...


She groaned into the bend of my neck and I pressed my hand firmly between her legs, over her jeans.


“Bella, baby, relax. I’ve got you.”


I could feel her through the denim, feel how much she wanted me. I pressed harder against her, rubbing my fingers in a demanding pattern that exerted authority and made her coo as she gave in.


Without warning, she dragged her hand from where she was squeezing my shoulder down to her jeans. Her other arm tightened around my neck, holding tightly to me as she undid the copper button and fly, and reached to tug my hand inside.


“I need you, please, Sam. Touch - Ohhhhhh -”


Both of us lost our words as my hand slid against her. She arched her back and bent her knees, and spread her legs farther apart for me, searching for a better angle, for more contact.


I squeezed the back of her neck with my other hand, holding her in place and trying so hard to maintain control. She whimpered louder, writhing upward against my body and I held her tighter still, closing my eyes, feeling her all hot against my hand.


My fingers slid up and down, spreading her open with each pass - she was soft, all soft and smooth and bare and so wet. I held tight to her neck to keep from standing from the bed and turning on the light, tearing her jeans and panties from her because now that I’d felt her, I wanted so much to see her, naked and spread for me. I held tight to her to keep from dropping down between her legs, and taking into my mouth, onto my tongue all the sweetness I felt all over my fingers.


Again and again she came, shaking hard, tears of too-much, too-good welling up in her eyes. I was careful with her, staying mostly outside, rubbing tight little circles over and around her clit. She was beyond words, but I listened carefully to the pitch of her cries and gave to her everything she needed.


I dragged the last one out for so long she was almost completely incoherent, her head turned left into the pillows, her face twisted with need and pleading. For long, slow minutes, I swirled my fingers between her clit and her opening, dipping inside and drawing more of her wetness out, rubbing it gently into the little nub, making her arms and legs and stomach all quiver.


She was mumbling, begging these high-pitched, breathy sounds. I gave in slowly. Just the tip of my finger at first, then back out, then in again, a little deeper.


Then out again.


Then in again, a little deeper still.


She lifted her hips from the bed, arching her back higher, desperate. I pressed the heel of my hand against her, pushing her back down into my bed.


Her pleasure echoed in my ears and I slid my finger deeper, curling it gently inside her, coaxing her need out and making it mine.


She bloomed hotter against my hand, her whole body trembling as she crested. Her cries gave way to airy laughter almost right away, and her arms wrapped tight around my neck, clinging to me, thanking me with the softest, most innocent and most exhausted little kisses.


I rolled my eyes, willing my cock to stand down, turning my body momentarily to adjust it and keep it secret.


The time and effort I spent willing it down was all for nothing though. Bella arrived just minutes later, smiling bright.


Standing next to Charlie hadn’t been awkward at all; it was nothing compared to the ride back home.


The way she looked at me was obvious to everyone that could see it, and I was counting the hours until I could help her sneak out her window and get her on top of the covers, in my bed.