WEATHER THE STORM CHAPTER 26 (FULL VERSION)

Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. Beta’d by HollettLA

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE. GORE. DEATH. GRAPHIC LANGUAGE. GRAPHIC SEX. DID I MENTION THAT THE CHAPTER IS GRAPHIC? ANYWAY, THIS IS WHY I COULD NOT POST IT ENTIRELY AT FANFICTION.NET.

THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING THE STORY ELSEWHERE. I’LL DO MY BEST NOT TO MAKE THIS A HABIT, BUT PLEASE TRY TO LET ME KNOW YOU LIKED, OR DISLIKED THE CHAPTER. THANK YOU!

"Weather the Storm"

Chapter Twenty-Six: Breaking Dawn

Excitedly, I ran my hands down the smooth silk of my Christian Dior dress. Edward always wondered what my reluctance was—why I wouldn't at least try it on for him. When we went to the sit down, I had refused to wear it.

Just looking at the damn thing, I knew I'd never get the skirt past my thighs. It wouldn't fit—I had tried it on, but I was too embarrassed to admit it.

Today it was comfortable. After months of stress and afternoon walks with my daughter and just being active with the kids, really, it finally looked good. The black corset still hugged my curves, yet had a slimming effect, and my stomach didn't protrude.

My hair wouldn't cooperate. It lay on my shoulders dead-like. For some reason, my curls weren't staying, and it was a bit frizzy, too.

Everything else looked great, though. My makeup was perfect. My legs looked amazing, all the way down to my high heels.

"Holy . . ."

Hearing Edward near made me smile, even though I continued to stare in the mirror. "How . . ."

"Incredible." He breathed. "You look, Bebella, baby . . . wow." He chuckled, taking my hand to twirl me to him. "I don't want you going anywhere." He pecked my lips, taking in every sight—his eyes going everywhere but landing back to mine. "This—you—just for me."

"A huh," I giggled. "Just for you." My arms wrapped around his neck, loving these few times I manage to get my husband tongue-tied.

He smiled so wide. "I get to take you out tonight."

"You do," I agreed.

"Da-da-da-da-da!" Kylie squealed, and we turned to watch her run after Rocky.

Edward sighed, letting me go to chase after her. I laughed, watching my daughter protest. She and her father were ready for the evening. Kylie, after dinner, was given a bath by Daddy and put in her pajamas. This was so, when she gets to Grandpa's house, she chills for a bit and then goes to sleep.

Edward . . . now seeing him in a suit is nothing new, but seeing him in grey pinstripes is so fucking sexy. It's the Versace—the fitted one—and he was wearing a white collared shirt under with the buttons opened at the top.

"Don't . . ." I wanted to remind Edward not to get dirty, and then forgot about it.

"Ready?" Edward bounced Kylie around.

Sighing, I messed my hair a little more, thinking overall I looked fantastic. "Yeah . . ." I blew out a breath.

"You need a coat?" he asked.

Raising a brow, I turned to him. "It's still ninety degrees out."

"Can't blame a guy for trying, right?" He kissed Kylie's cheek.

"Right." She nodded.

Edward and I shared a look, and then the three of us hugged—so happy. Not only did Kylie understand Edward, to a degree, but she answered him.

Very proud of our baby girl, we left the house, entering a limo which would take us the few blocks over to pick up Carlisle and Anthony before it took us into the city.

Carlisle and Edward spoke about "business," and I enjoyed watching Kylie and her cousin interact. They didn't speak to each other. Well, Kylie didn't speak to Anthony. Yet, Anthony told me when Kylie was thirsty. I found that odd—special in some way.

Traffic in Midtown was pretty heavy, and we didn't arrive at Ed Sr.'s house until it was close to ten.

Edward wouldn't let me hang out in the car by myself while he and Carlisle brought the kids up. I didn't care to see Jackie or say goodbye to Kylie there. Once she sees me—physically—leave her, she carries on, like what she's doing now.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I whispered, while the sight of her broke my heart.

Jackie rocked her back and forth, while she continued to grab for me. "She'll be okay."

Logically, I knew she would. If Edward had just taken her out of the car, it'd be a different story. "Bye, baby." I blew her a kiss as Edward ushered me out of the house.

Carlisle speedily walked ahead of us, like he had a hot date or something, and we moseyed behind him. As far as I knew, my brother in-law was hanging solo tonight.

"I didn't know she'd do that—didn't want to leave you with Mauro."

"Since when isn't it okay for me—" I started.

"Since you look like this." He gave my ass a slap.

Giggling, I did a quick two-step into the elevator, feeling so good—better than I have in a long time. Tonight was going to be so much fun. We had nothing to fear. We were going to Midnight Sun, and we were going to see Usher.

Edward said we'd be able to meet him, and I thought that was so cool. My husband is used to all these celebrities being in his establishments, but I'm not—never having met any superstars.

"I hope I don't say anything stupid," I mumbled as Edward helped me out of the limo. Suddenly, I was taken aback. There was a red carpet, and the line went around the corner. Midnight Sun doesn't exactly sell tickets to events like this. If you're not on the VIP, if you don't know anyone, you wait on line to see if you can get in.

Edward never answered me, holding me to his side as we walked into the club. I was surprised to see Momo here, knowing he only works the door at Eclipse.

"Why's he here?" I asked.

"Because you are. He's my best security guy." Edward nibbled on my earlobe. "Sometimes I don't like when you wear earrings." I ignored him, being so aware of my surroundings. The club was crowded, bodies packed tightly, but we had a wide berth as we made our way to VIP. Edward's guys created a blockade on all sides of us, and my husband still hovered to keep me covered. It a felt a bit surreal— almost like I was somebody.

"This okay?" Edward gestured to a booth. We were above and away from the stage, but we still had a great view. We had the view of the club—we could see everything.

Soon we were seated, enjoying our drinks and wrapped up in each other while the music blared all around us. Usher hadn't taken the stage yet, and we were still listening to the DJ.

"Thank you for coming out with me tonight," he whispered in my ear.

My response was to giggle like I was twenty-three again, like I had just met him. Edward had that same sex appeal he did back then—with the money, the power, and the danger. It was all so exciting, and my husband has never looked sexier. "You . . . you better plan to hit this good tonight." I bit his jaw.

"Oh, baby . . . don't worry about that." His hand roamed higher on my thigh. "Don't I always take care of you?" He held my chin.

Deciding not to bring up recent dry spells, I nodded, slowly inching my face toward his. Edward kissed me gently, softly deepening a lip-lock that made my heart rate skyrocket. Not only did he have that same appeal from years ago—that he honestly never lost—I felt it, in my heart, my soul, and between my legs. My body felt like it was on fire.

And Edward was being so carefree, kissing and holding me at such a public venue.

"Uh . . . may we interrupt?" I heard Aro ask, but Edward didn't stop kissing me, so I decided to ignore his friend, too. "Skip!"

My husband leaned his forehead to mine, while hugging my legs to his lap as his chest heaved. Only Edward's eyes went to Aro, with a slight tilt to his head.

Inside, I was a mess, and nobody else existed—fuck Aro, Usher, and a night out—I wanted to go home and fuck the Skip's brains out. I hoped this could be a do-over night. The evening of the sit down when I pretended to be a stranger, there was something so hot about it.

My husband is faithful—never giving in to those urges—but I wanted to be Angelina, the hairdresser, the Skip's whore for the night—a fantasy we could play out, even if we're just Edward and Bella, husband and wife, and not strangers.

"'Sup?" Edward jerked his chin, while I faced him—never wanting to look away. "Nice to meet you." He let go of my thigh to shake someone's hand. "Bella . . ." He turned my chin to Aro and his date. "This is . . . what's your name again?" He faced her.

Aro's date was a knockout. From where I was sitting, she looked to be a bit taller than me, with a killer body and dark hair. She had a very pretty face and I'd say she was in her thirties. For some reason, I thought Aro would show up with a toddler—a twenty-something year old with formula still on her breath.

She furrowed her brow at my husband. "Gina." She recovered, smiling and shaking my hand. "I'm Gina . . . nice to meet you."

My face lit up, giving her hand a squeeze. "Likewise. I'm Bella." Taking my hand back, I suddenly felt like Edward and I shouldn't be so rude—we shouldn't be practically on top of each other. "Excuse us," I said, but doubt anyone heard me, as I sat up and tried to move away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Edward laughed, holding me close again. With a look, he knew I was serious, and I was able to sit correctly. "We got champagne," he told the table while Aro and Gina sat with us. "Yo!" My rude husband snapped his fingers for the waitress' attention.

My eyes landed on Gina, who looked like a fish on dry land. She wore something skimpy—club wear—yet she looked uncomfortable as well. "I love your bracelet," I said, my eyes landing on the one she wore. It was white gold or silver, and had small charms—cartoon characters hanging, like she got it at Disney World. I adored it.

"Oh . . ." She looked down to it. "Mother's Day gift last year."

"You have kids." I nodded. "How old?"

While Edward and Aro starting speaking, I struck up conversation with Gina. My husband took it upon himself to continue molesting my thigh, and I tried to ignore how wonderful his hand felt.

Gina was talking about her oldest child, Alex, who's thirteen, when there was a commotion by the bar. There was a crowd, but since Edward didn't seem alarmed, conversations continued.

"You're his wife." Gina leaned toward me, and it wasn't necessarily a question.

I nodded. "Yup . . . we have three kids." Looking at Edward, I noticed he wasn't paying any mind to our chat, so my gaze fell back on Gina. "Sonny—Santino is our oldest, and then there's Damion and our toddler Kylie." My head continued to nod, and then I decided to polish off my glass of champagne. "What do you do?"

"Nails." She smiled, waving a hand. "I'm a manicurist out in Queens . . . where I live." She gave Aro a look as she sipped her own glass. She was bored. I couldn't blame her. It wasn't that we didn't have anything in common, our chat was just boring.

I looked back to Edward. "What's up?" He lifted my hand to kiss my palm.

Trying not to smile like some nut, I grinned, shaking my head.

That was when Momo came over to us. He crouched down at the end of the table, near Aro and Edward, and wore an expression of concern while he spoke to them. When my husband's brow furrowed and Aro muttered the word "fuck," Gina's head snapped to them.

"I get silk wraps." I placed my hand on Gina's to engage her in conversation again. Having no idea what they were talking about, it didn't take a genius to know that maybe Gina shouldn't hear them. "When I can . . . I used to operate the tanning salon, but now I stay home mostly. The kids keep me so busy."

"Oh . . . well, whenever. I can take care of you."

I smiled. "That's so sweet—kind of you. And if you . . . need to tan, I can hook you up."

She made a face. "Like I need more help with wrinkles. I try to stay out of the sun." Meanwhile, she looked sun-kissed already. Her skin was beautiful, not pale but not dark, yet seemed smooth and so soft.

"You don't need it." I chuckled, seeing Momo get up and leave. Trying not to be rude, I leaned away and to Edward's ear. "What happened?"

Edward sipped his scotch. "Kids . . . trying to get into the club. No worries," he lied, squeezing my thigh to let me know things were okay.

"That was the beef downstairs?" I asked.

He kissed my cheek. "You don't miss anything, do you?"

I giggled, snuggling into his side. "Where's Carlisle?" I finally realized I hadn't seen him since we arrived.

"Saw him over by the bar," Aro said. "He's probably looking for a hook up."

Gina was laughing and shaking her head, although with the music I couldn't make out what she said because she wasn't speaking to me directly. " . . . so weird seeing him after all these years." Is what I caught.

"Oh . . . do you know Carlisle?" I asked her.

She opened her mouth to answer me, but my husband stole my attention.

Edward stiffened, tightening his hold. "You look . . . Christ, you look so sexy tonight," he whispered in my ear, turning my face to his.

My smile was so hard to erase. "I love you." I practically mouthed.

He grinned, placing a soft peck on my lips.

We were so happy, in love and in our little bubble, I didn't even notice when Usher approached our table. Thankfully, since my attention was so caught up in Edward, I didn't make an ass out of myself. I wanted to tell him how much I loved his music, how I had been a fan since I was a kid, and he was a kid, too—putting out hit songs—but I never got the chance. Right before he took the stage, I shook his hand and was introduced by Edward. It was surreal that Usher—a superstar—gave my husband a one-armed hug, like they had been friends for years.

"Do you know him?" I whispered to Edward.

"No," he laughed.

"It seemed like it." I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Nope . . . I'm sure he knows I'm just the owner or something." Edward bit my nose.

Laughing and feeling so good, Edward took my hand and we stood up to peer over the railing. He hugged me from behind, and I leaned against my husband as Usher started to perform.

Carlisle came over during the second song to whisper in Edward's ear. From what I heard, kids didn't try to get into the club. Someone got in, looked suspect, and are being held downstairs in the basement.

"What?" I shouted.

"Shhh." Edward kissed my cheek. "Just relax."

"Who is it?" I felt slightly panicked.

"I don't know," he lied again. Momo had spoken a lot earlier, as did Carlisle just now, but, overall, no one looked too concerned, and I decided to let it go.

"Sorry," I said, and we tuned back into the music.

"In a little while . . . Christ . . . I'm sorry, but you're going to go home while I settle something."

I frowned; everything feeling like it was crashing down.

"I won't be long." He kissed along my cheek and neck. "I'll be right behind you . . . and you," he leaned forward, pressing his cock into my back, "you get the Jacuzzi ready for us."

"Okay," I agreed, my heart breaking while I tried to keep it together. Tonight was still fairytale-like, but Edward doesn't have set hours. It's almost as if he's on-call, has to turn into the Skip at any given moment.

"I'll spend the rest of my life making shit up to you . . ." Glancing to Edward, I saw how torn up he was.

"Don't worry about it." I laughed it off. "I know what life with the Skip is like." Turning, I wrapped my arms around his neck as the song changed. Hearing the opening beats, I gasped, wanting to dance so badly. My hips swayed of their own accord against my husband, as his hands went down to hold my hips. "Dance with me."

"'Cause, baby, tonight . . . the DJ got us falling in love again."

"Please!" I gave him a cheesy, toothy smile, while my hands went low to grab his. Everyone else was dancing—Carlisle with some young thing I didn't know and Aro with Gina. They danced, and we were just standing here. Well, I was moving on my husband.

Edward smiled, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "The Skip doesn't dance."

"But Kylie's daddy does." My teeth nipped his earlobe.

He groaned, holding my ass to him so tight.

/=/=/=/=/

EDWARD

/=/=/=/=/

Bella kept rubbing her shit on me, which was making it hard for me to concentrate. Usher had left the stage a while ago, but Bella's ass never left me. Holding her, her hands wove into my hair while we "danced". I truly didn't consider this dancing. She moved on me, and I held her there. Bella's ass on my dick felt fantastic, and I wondered if she'd let me fuck her real quick before she left.

I couldn't do that . . .

Bella is my everything, so sometimes I may treat her like she's my whore, and yet still tell her how much I love her.

Tonight wasn't for that. We'd have our time later . . . soon.

At about three in the morning, the club was emptying, and the only problem I really had was Aro's date. She kept fucking staring at me every chance she had, and, I swear on my life, I do not remember sleeping with her. Gina looked familiar, and I firmly believed she worked at La Bella Italia—since I remembered her face. But I do not recall being intimate with her at all. Maybe she was offended because I didn't pay her any attention. I don't know, nor do I give a fuck.

But if Aro doesn't tell his chick to control her eyes and Bella notices, I'm going to be pissed. Tonight wasn't about that. And it's not like I was ashamed or was hiding anything from my wife.

Bella and I were supposed to have a good time tonight.

And I wouldn't let anything fuck that up.

When Bella left me to dance with Carlisle's . . . whatever and Gina, I stood back with my brother, watching them. Bella likes to dance, and she wasn't doing anything outlandish, so I let her go. If she moved like she should be on a pole like Carlisle's "date", then I'd step in.

Bella became excited when Caius showed up with Nicole. They had missed Usher, but my buddy had to speak with Aro and brought his wife since I had mine with me.

"Having a good time?" Carlisle asked.

I nodded, staring at my wife's hips. We were in VIP, hidden away from the rest of the club, and there were no threats about. "A fan-fucking-tastic time," I told him.

"Good . . . it's rare you let your hair down, metaphorically." He sipped his drink. "What do you think of this one?" He pointed to his date.

"Is she at least eighteen?" I laughed.

"No . . . I mean, she got in by herself, so I guess she's twenty-one—No. She said she was twenty-one." He nodded to himself. "She's hot." He downed his drink. "She can get it."

"You better get her number." I raised a brow.

He scoffed at nothing. "You suck."

"I have no idea what's in the basement," I muttered, remembering Momo tell me he had a surprise.

Apparently, there was a dude at the bar trying to get into VIP.

The outburst he had made by the bar, extended all the way to the front of the club, because of how many guys surrounded him. An associate of mine said he tried to sell him narcotics before he let some shit slip about what he was going to do in VIP. When Momo took him out back, he told this dude he'd get him in, and then brought him downstairs. According to my buddy, this was a kid—in his twenties—and was a junkie. Well, he looked like a drug abuser. He also had a girl with him, and the girl is in the basement, too.

Since I didn't know if this guy had any friends with him, I made my guys aware—made them keep close watch to see if anyone with their demeanor left or tried to get in. So far, I haven't heard a thing.

"Whew!" Bella glistened with sweat as she hopped up to kiss my cheek.

"You looked great." I hugged her to me. "I love . . . watching you dance." Nuzzling my nose to hers, she giggled, breathing heavily. "It's about that time." I pulled back to see her frown. "I'm sorry."

She gave me a tight-lipped smile, waving a hand. "I was talking to Nicole about . . . maybe going to the diner for some food—breakfast."

I nodded. "You go ahead, and I'll just meet you at home."

Her face remained fallen as she turned to look for her friend. She spoke to Nicole for a moment, but since Caius's wife went back over to the bar, I guess she's not going to the diner with Bella.

"I'll be home soon." I kissed along her neck.

She let out a small moan. "You better."

My hand came back to slap that ass. "I will."

Soon, Mauro came up to join us and walk Bella out. I went with her, making sure everything was okay. Nunzio was already out front waiting for her in the car.

On my way back in, my entourage was much smaller than it was earlier, and the club was starting to clear out. It was close to closing time, so I sat with Aro, Carlisle, Caius, and Aro's date as I had a drink.

"Isn't it past her bedtime?" I wondered when Aro was going to get rid of her.

"We're taking off in a few—you wanted me to stay?" he spluttered.

"Did you forget?" I asked.

He smacked his forehead, and then turned to whisper in his chick's ear. She frowned; he asked Lou to go grab shorty a cab, and then she was gone. Before she left, she shook my hand—saying her name again.

Gina was definitely disappointed with my failing memory.

Nevertheless, I bid her farewell without any snide comments. I hope for her sake, if she wants anything with Aro, she gets over that shit quickly and doesn't bring it up. If it was me . . . well, at this stage of the game, if any of my friends fucked someone I potentially wanted to date, I'd never go for it. Back in the day, it wouldn't have mattered; I only fucked, never dated, and, thank God, I'm married and don't have to worry about that shit anymore.

"This fuck told who he came to ice you?" Caius asked.

I waved a hand. "Abramo heard him or something. Bottom line, he threw a fit when he couldn't come up here. And Momo's never seen this guy before."

Caius nodded. "You need me."

"Nah . . ." I shook my head. "I'm just gonna talk to him."

"Right." He smirked.

"Take Nicole home." I jerked my chin to the bar where she was. When Bella told her she was leaving, Nicole decided to stay back and wait for Caius.

"Watches me like a hawk that one . . . when we go out." He stared at her, too. She sipped her drink and spoke to one of the girls—I had no idea whose girl it was, but she was here, so she belonged to someone. "But then that's why we never go out together," he sighed, standing to slap his hand to mine. "All right, my brother . . . take it easy."

I gave him a head nod, as he left the table.

"Leave him there 'til tomorrow," Carlisle said. "Christie's still here." He looked over the railing to check out the chick he'd been chilling with. She had left VIP when Bella did, going to join her friends again. "She's down to fuck."

"Go if you want . . ." I let that hang there, swirling the ice in my watered down scotch.

Carlisle shook his head. "Then you'll hold a grudge against me for how long? I don't think so."

Laughing, I patted his back. "You know me well, but seriously . . . no beef. Go have a good time." Still feeling bad for him, I wanted him to get his kicks.

These days, besides work—his real job at the firm—he doesn't do anything but care for Anthony. He's sort of like a single dad. Well, he is a single father, raising Anthony alone to the best of his ability. The only thing I told Carlisle was to make sure his kid stayed clothed. My nephew likes to run around naked and plays with his pee-pee; doesn't care who sees him. That can either be something he got from Carlisle or a little boy thing that my sons just never did. I have no idea. Sonny never did that, and Damion likes to play dress-up—not necessarily naked.

Carlisle finished the rest of his drink while we both watched Christie leave with her friends. "It's fine."

"You mean too late," I corrected.

He gave me grin, while Aro joined us again. "What are we doing?" Aro took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves.

Shrugging, I didn't reply, since I hadn't thought of a game plan.

"Mo says he tied them up—"

"Really?" I drew out the word, staring at Aro.

"Yup." He grabbed Gina's leftover drink and sipped it.

Together, the three of us went down to the basement, and Lou followed. The back room, which is closed off by a hidden entryway, was dark. As the light filtered in through the door, I tried to see who sat in the chairs in front of me. Too bad, I couldn't make out their faces. Once Carlisle turned the light on, I stared again.

The guy looked to be young—twenty at most—skinny, dark hair and eyes, and he was soaked with sweat. His chick was blonde and eighty pounds at best. Her cheeks were sunken in just like his were and from ten feet away I could see the track marks on both their arms.

Needless to say, these two did not fit the description of fuckers who would try to take me out.

"Who sent you?" Aro spoke first.

The fucker's response was to spit on the ground, but he couldn't hide his shakes.

"Let us go," the girl said, and my head whipped to her. Truth be told, I had no use for her, unless she also had plans.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Don't say nothing!" the dude shouted.

I sighed, grabbing a chair and sitting in front of them. "You came here to kill me?" Not only did I find it humorous, but I wondered what kind of game this kid was playing at. He must have been as high as a kite to come to my club, which is filled with my people, and boast of his intentions. The sad thing is if he never made a stink, it's possible he could have gotten close enough—not to me, but to VIP, and possibly taken a shot at me, or worse, my wife.

Momo had said he was chilling by the lounge's entrance, staring and whatnot, before he was ushered away. After that was when he ran his mouth. I have no idea why he never took his chance when he could, but he'll never have the opportunity again—I don't care who he is.

"Fuck you."

My hand came out to hit him in the mouth. "Do you know who I am?"

He let out a cackle, while the girl started crying.

"Stop crying," Carlisle told her. "Tell us who you are and who sent you, and you're free to go."

"He's lying, Jen."

"Jen." Carlisle nodded his head, grabbing a chair to sit near her. "Is that short for Jennifer? . . . Lou, go grab a soda or something." He looked back to the girl. "Are you thirsty?"

She whimpered, licking her dry lips and nodding her head yes.

"Cut the bullshit—" I started.

"Fuck you and that whore!"

I got him in the mouth again. Then I grabbed his hair to right his chair. "Watch your fucking mouth!" At this angle, I was able to see a tattoo on his arm. Moving his short sleeve up, I was able to see the name Katiel in what was a memorial tatt. "No shit." I pointed to it and looked to Aro.

Katiel is another version—the Italian, phonetic, version—of an already Italian name. I know this because back in the day—way back—when I went on my first "assignment" out to Wyoming, I went with Catello Somma. His driver, who spoke his native language, used to call him Katiel, and I wondered why.

"Shit." Aro shook his head.

"Get the fuck off me!" He tried to pull his arm away.

"Empty his pockets," I told Aro, wanting to see his wallet. "You're Catello's son?" Thinking back, I remembered when I was twenty-five—before we iced Catello—he had a son who was nine with the same name.

I thought it'd take a few more years for kids to grow up and seek their revenge.

Catello Junior—we'll call him CJ—never answered me, so I smacked the back of his head, just when Lou came back in. "I'm talking to you!"

"Don't drink that!" he told his girl Jen, when Lou helped her sip from the straw.

"You think we'd poison you?" I stood back to cock the slide on my Glock. "That's not my style." He stared at my gun. He was already shaking and sweating so profusely, but still showed no fear. I had a hunch his problems stemmed from a different source.

Aro emptied quite a few things from his pockets—a wallet, a few tiny bags of what looked like heroin, and a small leathered, zippered pouch. The pouch was the first thing I grabbed. "You want this?" I asked.

He stared at that shit like his life depended on it, so did his chick. Opening it up, I found a needle, another bag, a lighter, and a spoon. "Don't touch it!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, I threw it over my shoulder. "Oops." I was dealing with two junkies—no bones about it. Then I turned to kick it away from us, while I heard him spit again. Not feeling anything touch me, it didn't make a fucking difference. I came back to him, hitting him repeatedly in the face while his girl screamed for me to stop. "You're man enough to come kill me, but you ain't speaking?" I laughed, righting him in his chair again.

"Just kill me!" His face was bloody already. "You won—I was supposed to be somebody. If my-my father was still around—"

"Aro?" I asked; he was too busy playing with his phone. "Do you even remember icing Catello?"

"You mean the rat?"

"My father wasn't a rat!" CJ shouted.

"So that was your pops?" I had his wallet in my hands now, and then I took out his drivers' license that proved my words true. "Your father was a rat." I let his wallet fall to the floor, too. "He made a deal with the D.A., ready to tell them anything he could so he wouldn't do hard time." Him cutting a deal was never proven, but Marcus wanted him gone just in case—and he was Marcus's cousin. Remembering that, my head whipped to Carlisle, who just sat there.

"You still keep in touch with Esme?" As far as I knew, Esme and Didyme never conversed with the Misone family anymore, but you never know.

"I ain't telling you shit!"

Carlisle stood up, gesturing to the kid. "Esme hasn't spoken to her father's family in—"

"Answer the question!" I pointed my heat to CJ's knee. From what I hear, a shot to the kneecap is one of the most painful things ever—or maybe I saw it in a movie.

The kid refused to look at me, and so he got a pop in each of his knees. The blows made him and his chair jump back, and his response was to scream and cry. He was so fucking loud as blood poured from him.

His girlfriend was crying, too, whimpering and blubbering, but she was kind of yelling in horror.

"Sweetheart, tell your man to talk to me," I said.

"Cat . . . just . . . just—" she could barely speak, and her stringy hair was obstructing her view. Come to think of it, how the fuck did these two get in, let alone close enough to me? Midnight Sun isn't exactly a fuck-around dance club that lets anyone in. Hate to sound elitist, but you have to look like a high roller most times.

I turned to Carlisle. "You better do something. I don't care what. You're letting this Esme shit sit for too long."

He trailed his hand through his hair. "I know, but you—I can't."

I nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"No!" Carlisle shouted, and this wasn't the time or place for this conversation. Actually, I made a promise to Bella, and I wanted to get going already.

"Sit him up," I sighed. Catello Junior had yet to calm down, but I gestured for Lou to help him, while I bent over to pick up his junkie kit. "You want this . . . the works?" I asked the girl. She turned away from me. Briefly, I thought about having them overdose—putting a little too much in the syringe and watching them die peacefully. It'd be quick, but fuck that.

"Th-th-that was your slut wife, right?" Catello decided to speak. "Word on the street is you're too chickenshit to take a goomah—you're a pussy . . . nothing like my cousin. If he and my father were still around—"

Quicker than I thought possible, I drew my nine and popped his girlfriend in the leg. "Keep talking about my wife—" I shouted over her screams. "And I'll keep putting holes in your girlfriend."

"Jesus," Carlisle hissed. It made me crack a grin.

"Chickenshit." I nodded.

"I almost—I almost—" He could barely talk, but that didn't stop him.

"Excuse me?" I stepped closer—not able to hear him over the woman's screams. "Who sent you—how'd you know I'd be here?" I asked.

"I would have aimed for that cumbag first—"

"I'm sorry." I told the chick, before I put a bullet between her eyes. Her cries were getting on my fucking nerves.

My actions made Catello Junior squirm in his chair. I thought he should be half passed out by now—loss of blood and fear—but junkie scum run on another wavelength, I guess. "Jen—Jen, baby . . ." he cried.

I laughed, digging into my pocket for a cigarette. He continued, while I smoked and watched. I also looked at the time, seeing that it was nearly five in the morning. "Hey, pussy . . . can you stop crying and tell me something?" I put my cigarette out on his neck. His sweat made the cherry sizzle and die quickly, while I reached into my pocket again—this time for my knife.

"Fuck yooou and that ho!" he sang, singing out in agony. "Fuck all of you—I was sup-supposed to be . . ."

I hummed, straightening my knife, and then brought it to his face. The blade sliced into his skin, marking his cheek—all the way down to his lips. Wanting to try something new and being a fan of Batman, I gave him a Joker-style smile. "Beautiful." I stood back, admiring my handiwork. Astonished that I hadn't gotten blood on myself, I dropped the knife to take off my jacket. Sadly, as I took it off, I got some blood on the sleeve. "Fuck." Now I'll have to burn it. "Do you know how much this suit cost?"

"Fuck . . . fuck you." Catello rasped out. It was hard to make out, and it must have hurt like hell. This dude didn't want to speak, so I was going to make sure he could never do so again—not even in the afterlife, if there is such a thing.

"Aro, hold his head." My buddy did what I said, as I pried his fucked-up mouth open and reached for his tongue. It took some elbow muscle, but I was able to cut his tongue clean off.

More blood spilled, more cries . . .

And it made me smile so wide. "What'd you say?" I threw his tongue onto the floor and stepped on it.

Catello Junior was crying and glaring at me.

"Oh, no, no, no." I tsked, coming back to him; using my fingers and all my strength to dig into his eye socket.

Interesting enough, it came out with no problem, still attached to his body by vein-like strings—pink and bloodied spaghetti.

"Fascinating." I held this fuck's eyeball in my palm. Then I let it drop—hang there. "Why won't you die . . ." I mused, using the knife to cut into his neck. He was going to bleed dry while I watched.

"Ed . . ." Carlisle had that tone to his voice.

Stopping my hand, I turned to see my brother looking nauseous.

I laughed. "What?"

This was such a rush, so much more pleasurable than just pulling a trigger. Couldn't they see that? My own heart was beating away in my chest, feeling as though I could run a mile without being winded—fuck the shit out of my wife with such ferocity. I felt like I owned the fucking world, like I snorted three lines and was flying—only I hadn't taken anything.

"I haven't had the chance to play in so long." I was drunk with happiness.

When Carlisle and Aro shared a look, I relented. "Fine." Bringing my hands and the knife up, I brought them back down with force—stabbing him in the heart, only to twist it. He stiffened, making an odd noise, before he went limp. Pulling the knife out of his chest, I backed away to grab a bar towel to wipe my hands.

"Finish it." My buddies knew I wasn't in this alone. One-by-one, Aro, Carlisle, and Lou drew their nines to shoot Catello Junior.

He was already dead, but it was principle. When they were through, I wanted to leave—still feeling so fucking amazing. "Lou . . . you clean."

"I'll help you," Aro said.

"Bet." I clapped my hands. "C, go grab a car."

"Skip," Aro slowly walked to me, "you-you shouldn't go home like this."

Looking down at my ruined suit, I agreed. "I have clothes in the office—I'll clean up and change."

"No, I mean . . ." Aro seemed frightened, and I had never see my buddy look this way before. "I'll go with you." He slapped my back.

"What?" I shook my head. "You okay?" Chuckling, I used Lou's neglected bottle of water to wash off my hands.

"Me?" He pointed to myself. "I-I'm fine. I just, uh, you know. You're a little hyped up right now. MC's probably sleeping . . . "

My stomach tied in knots, wanting to get home to my love so badly. "She's going to be so mad . . . I'm late." For some reason it seemed like the funniest thing in the world, and then I was bent over in hysterics.

"Bro, you think I could stay over?" Carlisle asked. He and Aro were acting so funny—staring at me like I was crazy.

"What the fuck?" I widened my arms. "I'll take a fucking cab home." When I turned for the exit, Carlisle beat me there.

"I'll get my—a car." He shrugged.

Aro tossed him a set of keys. "My shit's parked on 63rd," he said.

Carlisle nodded, running up the stairs.

"You guys are . . ." I trailed off, draping my jacket over my forearm to follow my brother.

"Skip!"

I turned to Aro.

He stared at me for a long moment and didn't say anything.

"What?" These two were pissing me the fuck off.

"Nothing." He rushed out. "Have a good night—let MC sleep."

Shaking my head, I left Aro and Lou with my dead.

The club was practically empty now, except for a few of our guys, a bartender, Momo, and Jasper. He was in the office. Unfortunately, since he doesn't have Marcy anymore, he actually has to run this place.

"Where?" he asked, as soon as I entered the office. He was counting money at the desk and wore a mortified expression.

I laughed. "The basement—back room. That's what it's there for . . . you know." My hands were clean as I reached into the bottom file cabinet. I've had a pair of jeans and a shirt in there for years, along with an old pair of kicks. "I'll be back."

Once I was in our private bathroom, I gave myself a shower with the sink—discarding my clothes to a small pile on the floor. The blood came off easily, making a pink pool in the white basin.

My body clean—my hands spanned the edge of the sink, and I leaned forward to stare into the mirror. Usually, I have a pair of green orbs staring back at me, but right now they were black—dark as night—and huge, dilated, and my smile never faltered.

Back in the day, it used to be hard to look at myself after a kill like that. Not tonight, though—tonight, I was in awe of my reflection.

"Ed?" Jasper knocked.

Shaking my head, I faced the door, grabbing a towel. "'Sup?" I dried my upper body.

"Just . . . checking."

"What is up with you assholes?" I chuckled, reaching to place my t-shirt on.

"You look like a sick fuck—that's what," he mumbled back to me, and my blood boiled.

Ripping the door open, I was in his face fast. "What'd you say to me?" My hands grasped his collar, and I slammed him against the opposite wall.

"Let go of me," my cousin said through clenched teeth. "Finish cleaning up and go have a drink—don't go home like this."

Pissed, I fucking let him go.

He straightened his clothes, still staring with that judgmental gaze of his.

"You have five seconds to get the fuck away from me." Even if I was still in boxers, I grabbed my nine from the paper towel dispenser. "One."

Jasper shook his head, disappearing quickly.

I had a laugh at his expense while I finished getting dressed.

Before I left, I cornered Momo and asked him how Catello got into the club. He was fast to say that another bouncer vouched for him—some kid named Lenny—and that was when I knew what I'd be doing tomorrow. Afraid the kid might run off, I sent Momo to his crib—told him to take a few guys with him—and bring him back to O'Reilly's. If I'm going to do this shit again, I might as well do it right—at the correct location—and hopefully I get a few more answers than I did tonight. Mainly, I wondered if Esme paid someone to off me.

On the sidewalk, I lit a cigarette before I hopped into the Escalade with my plastic bag, which held my suit. My brother was busy fiddling with the radio, as he idled on the curb. "Aro's CDs suck," he said.

I reached over his head, grabbing the mix CD that Aro has in the visor. It's blank, doesn't have a name, but it had some old school Mobb Deep and some Nas on it. "Put that shit on."

The first song that blared from the speakers was "Quiet Storm"—my favorite song from back in the day. "This used to be my shit." I turned the volume up high.

Carlisle nodded, letting out a chuckle as he peeled away from the curb. As we drove, I told Carlisle about that kid Lenny, and he told me I was a wise guy—not some serial killer. He called me Dexter, and I had no idea what the fuck that meant . . . told him to go fuck himself.

Still in the car—now we were on the BQE and close to my crib—I was also amped. My leg bounced up and down during the whole ride. My mind also wondered, thinking about Carlisle and his little situation. "Yo . . . when's Es coming back from the Bahamas?" I asked. "She leaves tomorrow, or should I say later today?" 

"Edward." Carlisle had a hard edge to his voice. "Don't touch her."

"Don't?" I thought that was funny. "You're telling me no?"

"Look, I told you why . . . she did some shit, and a part of me can relate to it. I don't know. I fucked up—I was fucking around. Just because I don't want to be with her, doesn't mean I want my girls' mother to get clipped."

"I just want to ask her a few questions . . . and she's got this sudden hard-on for me, too." I shrugged. "It's not about Candace."

He swallowed, his face etched in stone. The light from the stereo lit up the cab, making his features shadowed and giving him a menacing appearance. "I could never forgive you," he whispered.

"You'd clip me—you'd try to clip me?" I pointed to myself. "We can settle this shit right now." My stomach tied in knots and my muscles stiffened, staring at the fucker while he continued to drive and wondering if he had a death wish. "Let me know." I wanted it—more than I've wanted anything in a long time. The both of them—fuck them both and let them die together, I thought.

He glanced at me. "Relax . . . Esme hasn't spoken to her father's family in years."

"How do you know?" I raised a brow, as he veered off the highway. "How the fuck do you know?"

My brother groaned. "I don't—not for sure, but I highly doubt it. Please, Ed . . . think." He pointed to his temple. "You say this shit now . . . Give me a few days." He looked back to me, stopping at a light. "You don't owe me a goddamn thing . . . but I need this. Don't clip Esme."

Gritting my teeth together, I agreed, "Fine. One more strike . . ." I laughed, "You going to wait until I'm in a body bag—'til there's a tag on my fucking toe, or on Bella's, before you do something? 'Cause I am not going to let that happen. I have enough people trying to whack me. And none of them . . . are—can get as close as your wife," I finished, taking a large cleansing breath as I did.

Carlisle cleared his throat, smacking his cigarette pack into my chest. "Just—just relax. Not everyone is trying to kill you."

I nodded, knowing I exaggerated a little—but only a little. "Regardless . . . I wanna talk to her."

"No!" he shouted.

"Pull over!" I yelled back, seeing red—my chest heaved and my heart threatened to leap out of my chest. My brother was dead—nobody tells me no, and yet my mind was completely fucked—needing something—needing an outlet.

"Edward . . ." Carlisle sped up, slightly moving away from me.

My breaths were labored as I stared at him—my gaze never faltering as I swore I'd crack a tooth, I was grinding my teeth so hard.

"We're two blocks away from your house," he whispered, driving faster than what's allowed on Brooklyn streets.

"She leaves New York," I said. "Pack up your kids, pack up her fucking mother—her—any-fucking-thing that is Esme or any relation. I want them gone." My words were calm—not rushed—and slow so he'd know I was serious. "I'll kill her . . . I'll do it while you watch, and then you'll follow. You hear me, Carlisle? Get that bitch you married out of New York."

He gave me a fleeting glance. "We're going back to the apartment." He passed my house.

"What—go the fuck back!" I hollered, reaching out and punching the dashboard.

"Easy! You're not even you right now, okay? Just listen to me—"

"Fuck you!" I spat.

"I'm not taking you home like this. Bella says the wrong thing—fucking denies sex or something, and you'll fucking—"

"You're insane. I'd never hurt her." At the mention of her name, I calmed down some.

"You'll see her in a few hours." He stopped at another light. "We'll get something to eat. We'll—"

Seething, I grabbed my bag and left the car. I left the door open, too, and casually walked across the street—turning to flip my brother the middle finger as I did so. If looks could kill, I'd be dead from the ice-cold gaze my brother had on me, but I didn't give a fuck.

The streets were quiet as I closed the distance to my home. Smelling the air, I remembered my childhood—summer nights being close to the bay and breathing in the sea-trash scent from the polluted, murky water. It was hot and the stars were out; meanwhile, the birds sang because it was so close to sunrise.

Greeting Nunzio and Mauro, who were in Mauro's car, I heard music coming from my house. Wondering what was going on, I placed my finger to my lips as I crossed the lawn. Going into the backyard, I peered into the window. I saw Bella—still dressed from the club, but barefoot—licking a spoon as she danced around the kitchen. She was cooking, singing, and looked so beautiful. I wanted her—so fucking bad, did I want her. My wife needed to be under me, over me—or bent over the counter she's leaning on now, grabbing some shit out the cabinet.

Her dark hair flowed down her back, while her curvaceous hips kept time with the beat. Every once in a while she'd stop to smile—maybe thinking about me.

With a little pep to my step, I practically skipped up the walkway. I waved Nunzio and Mauro away. When they left, I let myself into the house.

The music was still going as I slowly made my way to the kitchen. Rocky came out to say hello and sniff the plastic bag I had with me. Remembering they were blood-splattered, I placed the bag on a chair—hopefully out of his reach—before I chilled in the doorway. Bella continued doing what she was doing, and by now I smelled that she was frying chicken.

I smiled because I love fried chicken—I love her. The amount of love . . . Christ. There's no measurement, but it's enough to make my chest ache at times, enough to wish the world was dead, save my children, so we can just be.

What would it take for us to just be?

When Bella turned, she jumped and held her chest. "You scared me," she giggled. The sound made me smile wider; meanwhile, my wife's face fell. "Are you okay?"

Surprised by that response, I shrugged my shoulders, walking closer.

She backed up. "I—I was just making food." Her gaze fell on a steak knife. In fact, she stared at it for a beat too long, which made me stop where I was. All these questions flashed through my mind.

Did she think I was going to hurt her?

Would she stab my ass if I tried?

In this moment, there was something so hot and exciting about it. Bella definitely would stab my ass—as a warning, something to wake my brain up and make me act right.

My dick was so fucking hard it strained against my fly. "Come here." I pointed to the floor, because I had no intentions of harming my wife and I didn't want to get stabbed.

Bella was scared, taking each step with caution, and she had no reason to be.

"What's with you?" I asked.

She smiled, shaking her head. "I don't know . . . you-you startled me."

I stared at her for a while, studying her beautiful features. Everything that is her—Bella, my wife—is perfect. "Gorgeous." I palmed her cheek.

She took a deep breath, her breasts rising, and they were all I saw now. I touched them, thumbing her nipples over the fabric. Bella sighed, her eyes fluttering closed, but I could still see the fire behind them. She was no longer frightened, but turned on.

And both . . . both—being frightened and turned the fuck on is the best combination imaginable. Bella told me that once. It was years ago. "Did I tell you how hot you were tonight?" She gave me a crooked grin. "Practically controlling the club and just—just you being you." She took a step closer, reaching for me.

I gathered her into my arms, hugging her tightly. "I missed you." My fingers wove into her long hair, and then I held it to my nose. She smelled heavenly, just like she did hours ago.

"Edward—too, too tight."

Pausing, I gritted my teeth together—wanting to rip the dress off and fuck the shit of her right where we stood. Instead, I roamed my hands down her back, enjoying her softness.

She yanked on a lock of my hair. "I can't breathe, dummy—"

I laughed, letting her go just a little and nuzzling my nose to hers. "Did you miss me?"

She smiled, this one genuine. "Of course, I did." She searched my eyes. Hers were still a bit guarded, and I wished they weren't.

"I won't hurt you," I whispered.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, never breaking my stare.

"You know that, right?" My insides were a mess now—so hyper, so excited to see her, and hornier than fuck. The whole night I had my hands on her—at least one—to let every fucker know that she—the sexiest, most beautiful chick at the club—was mine. I hoped we'd leave before the place cleared out, just so everyone could see me leave with her—my beauty, my wife.

"Before we start tearing clothes off . . . can you tell me what happened?" she asked. "You look—Christ, Edward—your eyes." She smoothed out one of my brows. "You did something tonight."

"I did," I admitted.

"You were doing coke?" She scrunched her nose. "We're a little old for that." Her hands ran up my torso.

"Nope . . . only alcohol, but I'm high off your love." I gathered her hands in my own to kiss her palms.

Bella nodded. "Did you want to eat first? I think—I think you should relax and we can talk . . ." She looked back to the oven. "Then we can . . . I waited all night." She licked her lips. "But you definitely need a minute . . . or ten." She winked.

I shook my head no. "I want you. I don't want food, and I don't want to talk. I want you." Palming her ass, I pulled her onto my erection. "Now."

Her fingers wove into my hair, and I tossed my head back—loving the feeling. "I love you, Edward." She nipped my chin, scraping her teeth down my jaw. Fuck. I loved the way that felt, too. My whole body felt alive—each touch from her waking me a little more.

I laughed. "Oh, baby . . . you-you have no idea." My hands came up to cup her face. "I love you so much . . . thank you for coming tonight."

She giggled, placing her hands on mine. "You keep saying that . . . where would I be? You go; I go . . . if I'm allowed to." She let out a snort, and it made me keep chuckling.

"You know I always want you with me." Backing up a step, my hands trailed lower to rest on her hips. "This dress . . ." I thought it'd look better on the floor. "Take it off."

Bella reached to lift her hair, turning her back to me. "Get the zipper."

Pulling her in close, my finger touched the zipper and followed it—admiring how small it was. It went mid-back, where the fabric still flowed, bunching a bit at the waist.

"Edward?"

Swallowing, I slowly brought it down—nearly gasping as her shoulders and skin came into view. She was just gorgeous. "Stay like that," I said softly, my hands gently easing the silk off of her. She shivered under my touch, sighing as it fell away.

I stared at the small beauty mark on her neck and leaned in to place a kiss on it, while my hands pushed the dress onto the floor. My thumbs hooked into her panties, and they went, too. "That's beautiful," I said, having an awe-like tone. We've been married for years, and the sight of her still excites me to no end.

Bella kicked them off and stepped away. Then she gasped when I pulled her into me. "Where you going?" I asked. That fearful look in her eyes was back, and I didn't like it. "I'm sorry . . . What?"

She shook her head. "I wanted to shut off the stove."

I kissed her lips. "Okay." Letting her go, I admired her ass. It was plump, full, and I knew it was so fucking soft. With the touch of a button, the flame was gone, and she turned to me, covering her tits as she did so.

Everyone was acting weird tonight, but I was about to remedy Bella's problem. I just didn't know where—I wanted to fuck her on every square inch of this house. "The A/C is too high," she commented. "And this light is too damn bright." Now she grumbled, looking up to the ceiling, while she still covered herself.

I hated it. She should never cover herself—not from me anyway.

"Sit." I smacked my hand down on the counter.

Bella grinned, holding onto my shoulders as I helped her hop up there.

"Lay back . . . spread your legs." I licked my lips, ever so excited. My heart was going nuts again— the anticipation unreal.

"Um . . ." Bella looked around herself and then up to the light, while she covered her stomach.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"No-nothing." She did as I said, opening herself for me and leaning on her elbows. "What happened to your suit?"

Shaking my head, my hands came out to palm her tits. Her stomach quivered, as a small moan left her lips. "You like that?" I pinched her nipples, pulling them, and thus her, to me, so I could kiss those lips, as my hips eased between her legs.

"All night," she said.

"All night what?" My right hand left her breast to message her clit. She was so fucking wet already. "Christ." My finger came up to her mouth. "Suck it clean." I moved my finger in and out slowly while I felt her tongue circle it. "Now let me . . . " She came forward, tangling her tongue with mine so I could taste her. Bella's arms wrapped around my neck and my hands undid my jeans.

While never breaking the kinkiest—sloppiest—kiss ever, I kicked off my shoes and then my pants and boxers. My dick sprang free and hit the silverware drawer below Bella. Being so hard, it stung a little, but made me laugh into her mouth.

"Easy, baby," she whispered, staring into my eyes and placing her hands on my chest. "Just . . . take a minute," she pleaded, not with her words but with her eyes.

"I'm fine."

"Edward . . . no you're not." She rubbed my shoulders. "I know you. I know something happened, and you lost it—lost your temper. I'm your wife . . . I know every look in your eyes and what each one means. You're riding an adrenaline high right now, I think. I can feel it, too." She kissed my lips. "It's coming off of you. You either killed someone or came close to it."

My chest heaved, staring back at her—wanting and needing her, to be inside her so fucking bad. "You want me to stop?" It pained me to ask, but with that short sentence, my heart slowed just a little.

She crookedly grinned. "No way . . . you're finishing this." She kissed me again quickly. "I want you to want me—not fuck me because you're pissed." She reached down to stroke me, and I shuddered—groaning from her touch that almost felt like an electric shock.

"Always—it's always you. I always want you," I spluttered out, smacking her hand away and gathering her into my arms. I held her close as I made a quick dash for our bedroom.

Bella laughed as I tossed her onto the bed. "You're so . . . so fucking sexy."

That made me smile while I took off my shirt. "So are you, Mrs. Cullen."

She turned to crawl higher onto the bed, and I jumped onto it—going to her on my knees. I hovered quickly, my chest touching her back and my dick resting against her ass. "Can I?" I asked, kissing her shoulder blade and grabbing my cock.

Bella hummed, leaning down and sticking herself out. Seeing her like that was the most precious sight I've even been granted. "I can't go slow—not tonight," I warned, ramming into her once. The force with which I entered her made my wife fall into the bed—she was okay—but with that one thrust everything slowed down. I felt whole—all right—for the first time in hours. Within her, I felt safe—home—and so fucking amazing.

My wife now lay on her stomach, while I leaned back to grasp her hips. "You . . . okay?" I panted.

She swallowed, licking her lips and staring over her shoulder. Her coy smile said a lot, and I didn't need an answer.

"Good." My hips came back to pound into her again, and I let out a loud cry. "Fuck!" She felt too good—it's not possible. Like every time, I didn't know if I was lucky or if my wife had a super, special pussy—one just made for me.

My forearms came out to hook under her arms and lift her, wanting to be close and get as deep as I could. "I love you," I said through clenched teeth, grabbing a handful of hair, and yet tossing her away a bit.

"Fuck me," she whined, moaning and bouncing back off of me.

With my hand tangled in her long tresses, I slammed into her—over and over with no regard. There was no slow, no going easy, as I pounded my wife's pussy—probably the hardest than I ever had before. I needed it—it was my lifeline.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod," she mumbled out so fast and shaky. Every jumbled word that fell from her lips made my smile even bigger.

"Whose pussy?" I grunted out, taking her ankle and flipping her over.

"Yours . . .Edward, it's yours." She was whining again, reaching to hold my face.

"Good." My hands roamed down her torso, and she tried to touch my cock. "Nope."

"S' my dick." She shivered when it grazed her.

"Shut up." I leaned away, taking my cock and slapping it against her clit.

Bella was on her elbows, watching and panting, while her eyelids were half-closed. "I clipped two people after you left," I whispered.

Her eyes riveted to mine, but the look in them—the lust—never left.

"Two people came to the club to ice me." I entered her again, pinning her to the bed, while trying to keep some of my weight off of her.

"Fuck!" Bella pulled my hair. "What'd—what'd—"

Leaning away again, my hands held her waist as my hips moved at a new velocity.

Slap. Slap. Slap. She was so fucking wet—practically dripping by now, as her nails scratched down my chest. "Edward . . ." She was about to come.

"Do it," I groaned out. "Come." My head bent low to bite her nipple. She screamed out, tightening around me, pulling me in and out by her pussy. The feeling—Christ—that feeling. I almost followed, but I wasn't finished yet, and so I rolled us over.

With my hands, I steadied her on top of me. She was a winded mess, hair all over as she held her head. "Fuck." She breathed.

She wasn't up for it yet, so I grabbed her hips—my own digging into the bed so I could fuck her—pound into her this way. I moved her on top of me, while she placed her hands on my chest, enjoying the ride. My wife looked fucking gorgeous—head thrown back, mouth open, and her eyes were closed.

"Sit on my face." I kept speaking, but not giving her a chance to follow me. My body scooted low, while I pulled her pussy onto my face. Letting out a deep growl, I sucked her clit slowly. She ground her shit into my mouth, and I took whatever she gave me, drinking it all—her—in.

"Edward . . . oh, God . . . that's it." She cheered me on.

Around my tongue, she pulsated, soaking it with her climax. I pushed her off of me fast, getting her on her knees again to enter her. After sucking my own fingers into my mouth, I took them out to place them at her asshole—getting that wet by rubbing the spit in and applying pressure. Bella moaned out some more—slowing her bouncing with curiosity.

Our bond—us—is so strong, I could feel her emotions in this moment. "Relax." I moved slower too, sneaking one of my fingertips inside of her. "Play with your clit."

Her hand disappeared, her head resting on the mattress, as I snuck in another finger—she was so open, so aroused already.

"Relax." My thrusts were easy now, my fingers moving with them—going deeper with each. "Easy." I kept saying words like that; meanwhile, I was as wild as ever—my insides crazy, even if my body didn't show it right now—with so many feelings running through me. "Grab me the lube." Bella was closest to the nightstand, able to reach into the drawer. My cock was probably wet enough, but I didn't want to risk it.

Bella tried not to move her body, and my cock still fell out of her, but my fingers did not—buried much deeper. "Ouch." She winced, tossing the small bottle back to me.

"You have to relax." If she doesn't, I'll hurt her, and this won't work.

"Sorry. I just . . ." My baby came back to me, when I twirled my finger around her clit.

"There we go," I whispered softly, watching her shoulders slump a bit. "Take over."

When her hand touched mine, I pulled out of her—my fingers and cock—to sit back on my legs. Opening the lubrication, I smeared some on my digits, and then they entered her again.

My fingers fucked her ass slowly, while I placed kisses all along her cheeks—biting, licking, and sucking the soft skin. Bella dug it; she always does, and my other hand came up so I could massage her clit.

My cock was still as hard as ever—reveling in her moans. The sounds coming from my wife's mouth were driving me wild. "No one's here," I reminded her, wanting to hear her scream. She was pretty loud already, but I'm greedy, and I always want more.

Apparently, she does too. "More," she shouted. "Fuck my ass, please . . . I want more." She kept bucking back into my hand with force.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Fuck, baby . . . don't make me beg." She moaned.

I growled, my hand going a little faster—as fast as I could, while she let out a wail. She wanted it bad, just like I did—because in this moment, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her ass.

After I poured some more jelly onto my dick and smeared a droplet on her, I massaged it into her, my cock entering her pussy swiftly again to get her lost. Once Bella was moaning and thrashing, from having all three spots hit again—I left, my dick going slightly up to apply slow pressure. "Are you okay?" I leaned forward and put more KY over my dick, hoping it was slippery enough. Bella says I waste it, but I like to make sure.

She nodded; we gasped as the head entered her, disappearing with the slightest, slowest movement of my hips. When I was halfway in, I moved back a little, sneaking my clean hand under to finger her pussy. Bella's fingers were toying with her clit. "Tell me about . . . about—" A raspy cry fell from her lips, my cock going deeper.

I groaned, my eyes rolling back as I stilled—giving her a minute to adjust. "Re-remember Catello?"

Bella never answered, moving slowly against me—taking more of me into her with every thrust.

"His son came—seeking revenge." I bent low to kiss up her spine. "You're so gorgeous." The curve of her back—seeing her . . . being inside her like this . . . there were no words. "I stabbed him in the heart. He was trying to take mine away from me."

"Oh . . . fuck." Bella's hips moved again. "Edward—"

That was my cue to go, and I did—remembering my kill from earlier, remembering all of it. With no abandon, I moved. And I only stopped when my wife would scream out—not in ecstasy—when I was going too hard. I hated myself for getting carried away, but Bella never asked me to stop. She cried out more in pleasure than pain. For all I know, she dug the pain, too. She also liked my words, and I had no idea why.

"Harder!" She fisted the sheets, pulling them away from the bed.

"I cut out his tongue." Her ass was so tight—so fucking wet and warm. "Fuck!" My fingers dug into her hips, and I knew there would be bruises in the morning. For some reason, I didn't care right now.

Bella's hand was moving so fast below us, and then I saw a stream of liquid hit the bed while she screamed.

"Damn." I grunted—going faster. From the sight alone, from her clenching me so tight, I held her hips to me—the fire starting and spreading in my gut as I came as deep as I could inside her.

Pausing and limp on top of her, I tried to catch my breath. "You okay?"

She moaned, lazily lying there, too. "More—more than okay."

It made me smile, and my cock slowly left her. Then I collapsed to her side. She was on me fast, kissing me—sticking her tongue down my throat as she groaned. "I love you. That was amazing."

"With you . . . it's always amazing. Every day of my life, since you've been in it . . . has been amazing. I love—" My hands tangled into her hair, kissing her deeply once again. "I love you, too." We stared into each other's eyes, while my thumb rubbed up and down her spine.

Finally, my high had come to an end, and I felt a bit emotional—like I was down, and yet still so fucking happy. "How'd I get this lucky?"

Bella grinned. "I ask myself that every day."

I hummed, wanting to buy the world, put a bow on it, and give it to her on her birthday.

She groaned out, in the good way. "What was that? That was amazing." She moaned, placing kisses on my chest. "What are you . . . twenty-five again?" She giggled, running her hands up my shoulders as she lay on top of me.

I blew out a breath. "Felt like it . . . for a while there." Grinning, I hugged her to me, and we snuggled.

"I have to shower soon . . . I'm leaking—feel juicy." Her words—although out there—didn't ruin the moment.

"Can I join you?" I yawned.

She sighed, nestling deeper into me, and I knew we'd be asleep in five minutes.

Thank you for reading.

Please leave me your thoughts.

Review

V

V

v