Chapter 33.5 The Rectory
Bella
Edward takes my hand as we walk from the side door of St. Mary's to the back of the rectory.
"You want me to wait out here?" I ask.
"No," he says simply, like he's just another guy bringing his girlfriend home for the first time.
The kitchen's tidy, maybe a little bare. He opens the refrigerator. It's practically empty. "Want a drink?"
"Oh my God, yes."
He hands me a Stella and takes one for himself.
"Where's Jasper?" I ask. I'm not the bishop's favorite person at the moment.
"He's in my office at St. Mary's getting ready for tonight's Mass."
"You're not saying Mass?"
"He's pinch-hitting since I had the wedding this afternoon."
It sounds to me like Edward has the night off. His eyes meet mine as he takes a sip of his beer. It's like we both have the same idea at the same time. We have another night.
In fact, we're alone right now.
Suddenly our bottles clatter onto the countertop and Edward's lips are on mine. My free hand fists his hair. He pushes me up against the counter, lifts me onto it and fits his body between my legs. His tongue tastes like mint and cool beer. I arch my neck as he kisses his way to my collarbone, as he tugs at my dress and exposes my breast. He nips. He bites. I gasp.
I start pulling his shirt free from his pants. I can't wait to get out of this dress.
We hear a thump from the front of the house and Edward springs away from me, catching his breath.
"Is someone here?" I whisper.
"Come on," he says. He takes my hand and leads me up the back staircase.
His room is just like I remember it - white, neat, stark. His clothes from last night are folded on the only chair. He doesn't give me much time for casually checking it all out. As soon as the door's locked, he has me up against it.
His hand slides underneath the hem of my dress, up my leg, hitching it so he can gain better access to places he wants to explore.
And dear God, let him explore.
I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, but he's not making it easy. My head falls against his shoulder as he pushes my underwear aside. His other hand is tugging at the back of my dress, like he's trying to figure out…
"Here," I hiss and show him where to find the zipper.
He pulls and it slides easily, all the way down. When he's finished, I shrug my shoulders a little, letting the simple black dress fall to the floor.
He stands there, staring for a minute, taking in every inch of me. From my face that feels too hot, to my bare chest, to my lacy black undies, to my matching black heels.
His fingers go to his lips, like he doesn't want God to hear him. "Christ."
I hook my fingers under the waistband of my panties and slip them over my hips, then step out of them. "You're wearing too many clothes." I take a step in his direction.
He sucks in some air when I touch him, like it burns. I know the feeling. I'm on fucking fire.
I kiss him long, deep, and slow as I push his shirt off his shoulders. I stop just long enough to fully appreciate the Endgame t-shirt he has on before pulling it over his head.
Finally. Skin against skin, I wrap my arms around him. With one hand over his ass, I pull him against me and actually moan.
I can't wait to have him inside… oh shit.
I step back.
Edward searches my face. "What's wrong?"
"I didn't bring condoms."
He smirks as he plunges a hand into his pocket. Then he holds one up for me to see. "I figured... just in case."
Christ, how does he manage to look so fucking innocent when he's so goddamn wicked?
"You fucker."
"Was it too presumptuous of me?"
"It was fucking perfect."
With that settled, I make quick work of his pants. Before I know it, I have him in my hand. He tears the condom package open with his teeth and hands it to me. I slide it over him and he closes his eyes and bites his lip.
I fucking love what touching him like this does. I love that he doesn't hold back, that he lets me see just how much he likes it.
"Edward." He opens his eyes. I take his hand. "Come here."
The way he looks at me, I think he'd follow me anywhere.
He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "The bed's back there."
"But I want you here."
He doesn't quite understand what I mean at first. When I back myself up against the wall and pull him flush against me, he starts to get the idea.
"I don't think-" he begins to say, but I kiss his mouth shut because, for the love of all that's holy, he needs to stop thinking so damn much.
I let his hands explore. The kiss builds. I wrap a leg around his hip and he finds just the right place to touch me. Just one damn night and he knows my body well enough that my leg almost buckles, and he has to clutch my waist for support.
My back is arched, pressing my breasts up against him. The crucifix on the wall hovers over us like a holy judgment. I really don't give a flying fuck.
Because, finally, Edward understands what I'm getting at.
Suddenly he's lifting me up without a word.
Wedged between the wall and Edward, with him hard and assertive, it's like all the air is forced from my lungs.
I start to say something. Or, at least I think I do. I know I'm making sounds, but I don't recognize any of them. Maybe it's Edward. All I know for sure is I feel him everywhere.
Before I can make any attempt to show him what he needs to do, or where to go, he's pushing into me with a strained, "Fuck." Sliding in, to the hilt.
"Yes," I breathe, gripping his shoulders with my fingertips. I nip at his earlobe. I try to pull him tighter. I need more. It's never going to be enough.
His head is buried in the crook of my neck. His lips are on my skin. His teeth nip and I'm losing my mind.
He pushes and Christ. I feel… everything.
"Edward," I moan.
"Fuck, yes," he grunts. He hisses. He lifts and pushes again, and again, finding a rhythm. Finding what works best for both of us. Until it's so deep and so hard that I come undone around him. My body shudders and my head falls against his shoulder.
When I look at him he's smiling. "I love... this look." He's breathless. Beautiful.
"I… I… You should keep going." I wiggle a little and he groans.
He pushes just a few more times. Hard and meaningful, so I feel all of him. In my chest. To my toes. He knocks my back against the wall as he leans into me, gasping for air. His chest shudders. His hands dig. A soft chuckle falls from his lips.
I'm not sure how long it is before I lower a shaky leg to the ground. Then the next.
He takes my face in his hands. He meets my eyes. His lips close over mine. His kiss is long and sweet. So certain, like he's telling me what he can't say with words.
I tell him right back.
"We should probably get going," I eventually admit, as much as I hate it.
He nods, leaning his forehead against mine.
"Stay at my place again tonight?" I ask. With my hands on his hips, my fingers hold him tight. I'm not willing to let go just yet. His smile is everything.
"Try to keep me away."
"Not a chance."
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