Prompt: 4
Pen Name: Mcgt
Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella / Edward
Rating: T
Photo prompts can be viewed here: PROMPTS
Thanks as always to TwilightMomOfTwo for looking these over before I post. She rocks!
A Bed No Longer Empty
My mouth tastes acrid and feels as if I’ve been chewing on cotton for the few hours I did sleep.
Glancing around, I see I’m alone. The sheets a tangled mess swirled around my naked form. Tugging on a wrinkled edge, I cover myself and sit up, rubbing my dry, sleep deprived eyes.
Another night, another hangover, another empty bed.
Glancing around my disheveled room, mystery man’s clothes are nowhere to be found. But why would they be? I’ve done this same routine a dozen times before, whenever the itch for companionship consumes me and I go in search for a bed warmer.
For some reason there’s a nagging thought in the deep recesses of my mind trying to get out, but until I get a shower and some Advil, it’s probably going to stay stuck.
I feel heavy and somewhat melancholy over the thought of waking alone again, but I can’t understand why. One night stands don’t usually bother me. As long as we’re safe, I don’t have a problem with the wham, bam, thank you ma’am of it all. I’ve been called the ‘perfect woman’ and a ‘guy’s girl’; yet for all those nice references, I’m still boyfriend-less. I’m the girl no girl is ever threatened by when their boyfriend says, I’m going to watch the game with Bella.
Always the buddy, never the romantic lead.
I know I’m pretty enough, yet I’m not high maintenance. I wear mascara and, if you’re lucky, some eyeliner on special occasions. I’m more comfortable in flip flops than high heels and prefer jeans to skirts. Always have, always will. I can pick up a guy in a bar effortlessly, but when it comes to the long term lovey dovey stuff, I’m at a total loss.
Swinging my feet over the edge, I test my balance, not really sure if I’m still drunk from all we consumed last night. Feeling steady enough, I head into the bathroom, picking up the random articles of clothing on my way, chucking them in the direction of my hamper, but missing the majority of the shots.
Gazing at my reflection, I can still see the remnants of my passionate evening; bruised lips, tiny bite marks and hickies adorn my body, some in very interesting places. I pop three pills and guzzle an entire glass of water before testing to see if the shower is ready for me. The ancient apartment building has the oldest water heaters around and takes gallons just for it to reach lukewarm in my third floor studio. Once under the hot spray, my mind begins to clear, steamy images bombard my consciousness from the wild romp I had with a sexy ginger who had the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.
Drunken groping as we try to undress ourselves with unsteady feet.
Mutual laughs as the condom flies out of his hand when he finally gets the wrapper open.
Strong hands holding me up by my hips as he pounds mercilessly away at me.
Flipping me from one position to the next as if I was a tiny, spinner of a girl.
Soft kisses trailing along the back of my neck to wake me for round three.
Whispers in the dark as he holds me against his chest and I fall into a deep, restful sleep.
I methodically wash and rinse my shampoo, conditioner and body wash on auto pilot. Attempting to shave my legs is too daunting a task, and I give up before I fall over in my tiny shower. Toweling off, I stand examining my now clean face, looking a thousand times better than I did fifteen minutes ago with the remnants of yesterday’s makeup smeared across my face.
My mind keeps ticking through the images of last night, like a flipping photo album of sexual depravity. While the man’s name isn’t on the tip of my tongue, what he managed to do with his won’t be forgotten for a long time to come.
He was a talented lover, and I want to say he was quite the conversationalist too, but without much memory of us outside of my bedroom, I have no concrete proof of it.
After brushing my teeth and finishing up my normal bathroom routine, I’m about to open the door when I hear a sound that stops me short.
If I didn’t know better, it sounds like my front door, but since I’m the only one with a key, it’s either my neighbor’s door creaking or I have an intruder.
I stand stunned momentarily before realizing that the bathroom’s lock doesn’t work, making my hiding place pretty much useless. Peeking out, I survey the tiny room, my eyes landing on the back of my mystery man, two coffees sitting beside him on the nightstand while he removes his jacket, placing it on the lone chair I own.
The squeak of the door reveals my location and he spins around to see me standing there in my old lavender towel and wet hair dripping down my arms. He smiles broadly, but perhaps based on my shocked expression, it falls.
“Uh, hi,” I whisper, mortified by the light of day, not to mention the lack of alcohol running through my system. My stomach starts to flip, queasy from anxiety not to mention too many Patron shots.
“I thought we could use some coffee?” he replies timidly, but takes one of the cups and holds it in front of him like a peace offering.
“Just let me get some clothes…” I grab whatever I see lying near the bathroom door, and shut it with a bang, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves.
No one’s ever come back and I don’t know what to do now that there’s a man standing in my studio apartment bearing coffee and hung-over conversation. I wish I had my phone so I could text Jasper about what do to in this situation. I’m panicking and have no idea why.
I must have been in there longer than I thought, because there’s a light tapping on the door and mystery man’s asking if I’m okay.
He pushes the door open slightly, not waiting for my reply, to see me hyperventilating over the sink, the towel still loosely secured around my body.
“Hey, I can leave if you want. I just thought we had a great time and I thought after coffee maybe we could grab some lunch or something? But if you want me to go, I’ll go. It’s okay, really. Please stop looking at me like that…” He’s rambling on with his hands stuck up in surrender as he walks towards me.
The poor guy doesn’t know what to do with my freak out, but keeps talking to me, as if I’m on the ledge about to jump. His hand gently touches my shoulder and runs down the length of my arm in an attempt to loosen my grip from the sink’s countertop.
“Bella,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss behind my ear, all the while not taking his eyes off mine in the mirror, waiting for me to tell him no or go on some kind of attack.
But my body remembers. My brain calms the instant his hand touches my skin, his kiss reigniting the burning flame of desire we’d shared just hours ago.
“Why are you so upset?” His arms are surrounding mine, lightly trapping me against the vanity while his lips speak softly in my ear, and never breaks eye contact.
My confusion over why I’m so terrified unnerves me, but with Edward’s hand covering my own so delicately, I can’t help but be soothed by his presence. Leaning back against his chest, I allow myself a calming breath.
“No one’s ever stayed…” I mumble, as a tear escapes, running down my cheek. I didn’t realize how lonely I’ve been. A longing deep in my chest, a craving for the love and affection I’ve been missing for so long.
Spinning me in his arms, mystery man grins, tugging on my chin so I’ll meet his eye. He confesses, “Bella, why in the world wouldn’t I stay? You’re probably the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. God, you’re smart, sexy and can down a Patron shot like nobody’s business.” His lips meet mine and it’s as if the floodgate breaks wide open.
“Edward. You’re Edward. Thank God,” I exclaim, kissing him repeatedly through our matching smiles when I finally remember much of the prior evening.
The bet I took when he started rooting against my favorite team at the bar.
The shots I’d had to consume as payback for the bet I ended up losing.
The incredible conversation we had the entire time.
The way the cheese dripped off his chin when we finally got around to eating some pizza after our Patron-fest.
The way he almost declined my invitation back to my apartment, but my overly forward kiss sealed the deal.
The instant connection I’d felt when our lips met.
The way his hands felt brushing across my ass when I fumbled with the keys as I tried to let him into my apartment.
The three orgasms he gave me before we fell asleep with my head tucked into the crook of his shoulder.
All of these thoughts flit through my mind in an instant, and I can’t help but wonder, ‘what if?’
Tugging me back into the present, Edward asks, “So, how about that coffee?” He grabs my clothes off the floor, and hands them to me before exiting the bathroom trying to give me some privacy.
I pull on the mismatched shirt and yoga pants and walk out feeling like a new woman. Hangover be damned, I want to try and figure out how to keep hold of the man now sitting so casually on my bed, looking like he belongs there.
“This isn’t a one night stand to you, is it?” I ask shyly, picking up the coffee and taking a long sip of the bitter liquid, waiting for his reply.
“Bella,” he says, standing up and taking my cup away. Grasping both hands, he looks me directly in the eye and confesses, “After talking with you for only ten minutes I knew I wanted to get to know you. I realize we did this a bit backwards, but can I take you out to lunch? Or on a date sometime later this week?” He pulls me into his arms, smoothing down my damp hair and leans down to whisper in my ear, “No, you’re not just a one night stand.” He seals his promise with a searing kiss that ends up lasting much of the morning. We decide against leaving my apartment and order some take-out instead, choosing to remain in bed for the rest of the afternoon.
And for the first time ever, I awaken to the smell of coffee, the feel of lips along the back of my neck and a bed no longer empty.
