Chapter 46

Sorry for the horrendously long delay again. 

Chapter 46:

After we found our house, we decided it was probably more advantageous for us to vacate the Pattinson residence for fear of scarring his parents with our rather out-of-control sex life.  Because the minute we signed on the dotted line for the house, it just got worse.  It was like some sort of mental and physical illness put together; we couldn’t be stopped, like it was a compulsion.  I couldn’t keep my hands off of him and it wasn’t like he was any better.  When we weren’t fucking, we just kept looking at each other like we wanted to, just had, or were basically only we weren’t naked and horizontal.  We were very well versed in eye sex.  Seriously, it was kind of one of our better talents, the way we could get the other quickly close to orgasm and not do more than just visually fuck each other senseless.  

So we moved our overpoweringly vast sexual exploits to a hotel nearby.  We spent a few days attempting to decide what we wanted to do with the house and most of that wound up being just various rooms we could talk about house things in for two minutes before we fucked in them.  We did manage to make some decisions about remodeling and reworking some rooms, replacing carpet and tile and wood floors.  We wouldn’t be in London long enough during this trip to make huge dents, but we could at least commission people and manage it from LA or have his parents set up appointments, oversee shit.  With the power of the internet now, we could have most things done and monitor whatever needed to be without actually being there.  I was excited.  And I think he was, too.  Our house in LA was comfortable and we both liked it, but it was something that was provided for us originally.  It wasn’t something we chose, decided, designed, planned.  It had touches of us in it now because we lived there and we could do what we wanted with it, but it never felt like this.  We weren’t given the opportunity to pick and choose, to have it made and designed to our specifications.  This was so much better.  Because we got to talk about everything.  It was wonderful.  

We hadn’t officially gotten up this morning as we were still in bed and it was probably around noon.  I was pressed back against him; he was reclining against the headboard, his arms around me, his hands locked together over my stomach.  His lips were moving gently against my shoulders and neck, making slow, sweeping paths and treks, taking his time.  Afterglow they called it.  Home is what I called it.  We weren’t talking; it wasn’t necessary.  The hotel room was silent except for the radio playing softly.  I couldn’t even discern what the songs were; it was just atmosphere, peripheral.  All that existed in times like these were me and Rob—when the world became reduced from public to the private, to our house, our bed, his arms.

I hoped the hotel had either moved other residents away from our room or that the walls were really soundproof because we hadn’t been shy about anything.  

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly.

I was smiling; I had been all night, I think.  Ya know, when I wasn’t moaning in bliss or ecstasy.  I sighed deeply, letting it out slowly and snuggled back into his body further.  “You,” I finally answered.

He chuckled softly. “Oh yeah?  What about me?”  More soft lips pressing into my neck.  One hand unlocked and moved hair off of my shoulder, his lips in its wake.  The hand stayed at my shoulder though, feathery touches to the roundness, warm and tender cupping while his mouth was never unoccupied.  

I shrugged. “Nothing in particular.  Everything… I love you.”

He didn’t say it back immediately, which was odd.

Instead, his finger started making circles on my shoulder, tracing imaginary shapes and lines, swirling and spiraling only to come undone and caress again.  He ran his hand over the whole area like he’d just cleaned a slate and then one finger made very distinct motions.  

I shivered, laughing. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asked.

“I think you’re writing.”

“And what did I say?”

“Pretty sure you just spelled ‘I love you’ on my shoulder.”

“And?”

“You’re incredibly cute,” I said, snuggling back even more.

He started spelling something else…

B e a u t i—it was actually really difficult to concentrate on the letters when I knew his fingers were making the patterns.  The fingers that had been inside me only minutes ago.  I managed to concentrate enough to get the gist of the word.  “Thank you,” I said, craning back to glance at him.

He smiled gently, and started again.  

A m a z i n g

I craned again. “Are you trying to get laid, Mr. Pattinson?”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything.  Spelling instead.  T r u t h

I craned some more. “So, you’re going speechless now?”

He chuckled. “No.”  I felt him shrug. “Just had the urge.  Are you adverse to other forms of communication?”

I snorted. “What, like, the language of love?”  He didn’t laugh like I thought he would.

“No, I think we have that one mastered quite well,” he said quietly.

“True enough,” I agreed.  I was quiet a minute, and then said, “No, I’m not adverse to other forms of communication.  I like the phone quite well.” I elbowed him. “And I enjoy your messages and your note-writing.”

“So then…the pattern would suggest other alternate forms of communication from me would be acceptable and, I dare say, likewise enjoyable?”

He was such a cute dork.  “I guess that would be a discernible pattern, yes.”

He took that as his cue that he could continue.

S e x y

I giggled.  “If you left off the ‘Y’ there, I was going to question your movies again.”

“I don’t need to write words on you to have sex with you, Kristen.”

I turned. “Oh, you don’t?  That’s a pretty confident statement.”

He shrugged. “Are you telling me that’s not true?”

I considered this a moment.  Because he was deliberately being hard to read at the moment.  So this could be a legitimate question for him—that he wanted a real and genuine reassurance that he didn’t need to perform something or provide compliments or whatever in order to have sex with me.  Or this could be a form of teasing, of foreplay, of Rob being an aloof, sexy, dork.  But which was it?  If this was teasing, then goading and teasing back was necessary.  If he was serious and insecure, my teasing might give him the wrong impression, hurt him when that wasn’t my intention.  I decided to test it a little further.

“You think sex is just a given then?  That nothing is required in terms of…maintenance?  That it’s always available?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Damn.  That didn’t really work.

“You don’t?” he asked.  “You think sex has to be earned?  It’s not unconditional?”

Now…ok.  We were getting into really dangerous territory here.  Because I knew lots of people that used sex as a bargaining chip.  Sex wasn’t a tool or sharing, it became quid-pro-quo—you do this for me, and I’ll have sex with you.  And that was not how I felt at all.  I never wanted to trade sex with him for something else—some service or good.  That made it like a material exchange.  Like sex was a form of currency.  Which made it about one step up from prostitution.  Sex could be a tool—it could heal and mend and bring back together.  It could bind and tie and create.  It could be a fun reward, but it was still meaningful.  And the only way it was used as material was for fun, was for amusement, but both parties agreed and it wasn’t a questionable act—it still meant the same thing no matter what form it was in, playful, serious, gentle, hard, all the above.  For me, it should never be about anything but that.  And it should be without consequence and expectation.  But…I also thought he knew that, so perhaps this wasn’t as dangerous.  I think he was just pushing me.  

So I went for it then.  I smirked. “Some things you have to earn.”

He hummed thoughtfully and his gaze left mine.  He was silent for a few minutes and then looked back at me.  “All right.  Then let’s raise the stakes.  I’ll keep writing, but I’m changing the location.  Because otherwise it’s not challenging enough.  And the more you can discern, the more I’ll give you.”

My brain was processing.  Or it was trying.  I was kind of getting caught up with the ‘what he was giving me’ part.  And the ‘more’ thing.  “Meaning?”

“Meaning I get to write wherever I want.  Anywhere on your body.  And if you get it right, you’ll earn a reward.”

I twisted my lips dramatically, pretending I was actually considering and not the reality of my decision being made before the offer.  “Mmmmm…so…how do I win?”

“Well you win a little each time you get a word right.”

“What are the rules?  There has to be a letter limit at least and some kind of boundaries.  Like it can’t be a word so obscure and British that I wouldn’t even know it.  That’d be cheating.”

“I don’t cheat,” he said, completely straight faced.  As we were playing this game, I didn’t burst out laughing at him.  I just let an eyebrow rise.  His own challenged me back.

“Do I at least get an idea of what the word is?  Are you going to give me clues?”

“What do you mean ‘clues?’”

“Well, like, say you’re going to write ‘tree’ or something, will you tell me it’s a thing?”

“No.  We’re not playing twenty questions.”

“Hmm…I’m not sure it’s fair if I don’t get clues.”

“No clues.  I’ll make the words more difficult as we go.  I’ll start you out with easier ones.”

I still made a dramatic display of thinking this over, while already running ‘reward’ scenarios through

my head.  “I…guess.”

“Is that a yes?”

I sighed. “Fine.”

“If you’re not up to the challenge, that’s ok.  We don’t have to.”

Fucker.  “No, let’s give it a try.”

And with that I was pushed forward.  Shit.  I did just agree to let him do that wherever he wanted on my body.  Christ, he could pick anywhere.  

When he was in front of me, his eyebrows went up. “Well?”

I shook my head. “Well, what?”

“Lie down.”

Fucking hell.  So I did.  And then looked up at him, all cocky and challenging like he was being, defiant.  Because, well, it was required.  I couldn’t just let him get away with shit, now could I?

He smirked at me and then spread my legs and moved so that he could start on my stomach.  I refused to acknowledge that he was leaning against my still soaked pussy, that he at any moment could grind into my clit or that his torso was most likely being dampened by the evidence of our first round of sex.  Instead, I smiled warmly because I would not back down.  It just wasn’t in my nature.  I was stubborn.  But dammit, so was he.  

He was leaning against me, one arm supporting him, leaving the other free to roam and write.  And he started swirling his finger around my navel, circling and circling until he knew I was going to start to get wet all over again.  And he smiled smugly the entire time.  My breathing was already starting to change.  “Close your eyes,” he said lowly.

I questioned him without actually saying anything.

“If you can see what I’m writing, that kind of takes the mystery and challenge out of the game.”

Bastard.  Fine.  So I closed them.  And it was always worse when I could feel him but couldn’t see what he was going to do next.  Hell, it was bad enough when I could see him—that didn’t change the fact that he reduced me to a loose-limbed pile of orgasmic goo every time.  His fingers danced all over my stomach, coming way too close to my small patch of hair, until I was starting to shift my legs.  Of course, he wouldn’t go any lower because he was being a self-satisfied, superior, conceited, haughty smart ass at the moment.

He started so abruptly (or maybe not) that I almost missed the first few letters.  

C o c k

I snorted. “Oh, come on.”

“I said I’d start with easier words,” he said, and I knew he was smiling.

I sighed. “Well, I wish you would have used ‘dick’ instead, since that’s what you’re being right now.”

“Hmm…that’s not the right word.  You’re not going to get many rewards if you don’t know the correct word.”

I sighed more irritated. “Fine.  The word was cock, Rob.  Cock.  C – o – c – k.”  I felt the need to spell it for him.  I mean, Christ, was this like a sexual spelling bee?

“Very good,” he said.  

And then promptly licked over where he’d spelled the word.  Shit.  Ok then.  My rewards were becoming quite obviously sexual.  And…this was going to get very interesting.  And I’m sure, even more frustrating.  

He didn’t waste any time then.  C u n t

I snorted. “You’re getting quite vulgar very early here.”

He tapped his finger against my stomach.  Bastard.

“Cunt, Rob.”  I think he was doing this on purpose just because he wanted to hear me say it.

“Mmhmm.”  And I got another lap of his tongue.  Rewards were hard-earned apparently.  Or easy words were not worth much.

“Are all of these words going to be that…explicit?”

“Would you like them to be less explicit?”

“No, I’m just asking.”

“No clues.”

I let out a breath, trying to keep my frustration under control.  

B r e a s t

“Breast,” I said quickly.  

He chuckled. “Was that better?  Less explicit?  I could have gone with tit instead.”

I was going to answer, except he swirled the tongue into my navel and all words were lost.  My hands immediately moved to his head and into his hair and then he was gone.  “What?”

“Rewards are fleeting,” he said, like…acutely deadpan serious.  

“Motherfucker,” I said, not realizing that was entirely out loud.

“Would you like me to stop?” I knew from the tone, he wasn’t upset.  He was amused, so this was quite a rewarding game for him.  

“No,” I said tersely.  

He chuckled and started writing again. 

S e m e n  

“Rob…”

“Yes?”

I couldn’t even…how did he expect…?

“Do you need me to repeat it?”

“Fuck.  No,” I half-whimpered.  “Semen,” I said, breathily, anticipating more of his mouth, which came a moment later.  Hands joined this time, thumbs sliding and kneading along my ribs, but it was far too quick again.  I’d just start to get lost in the feeling, get lost with that swirling motion of his tongue, and he’d be gone again. 

He didn’t wait for me to respond this time.  S p l a s h

I actually opened my eyes at that one.  Because… What the fuck was that doing in there?  I lifted my head and looked down at him; his eyes were eagerly watching me, the blue morphing slowly from hue to hue.  His eyes were amazingly chameleon-like in their appearance sometimes.  Maybe it was the clothing he wore or the lighting, it could have been anything, but they seemed to change tones often.  They’d be a light and misty, slate blue one minute and a soft baby blue the next.  They’d change from sky blue to a more vibrant and lusty Caribbean blue some nights, nights not unlike this one.  Right now they were somewhere between a cool and collected iceberg blue driving their way to an excited azure.  They were never as dark as cobalt and they were never cold, but they were always fascinating and always captivated me.  I’d happily get lost in those swirling, morphing pools of blue.

What had I opened my eyes for?  I blinked at his grinning form, trying to process and pull myself out of those warm and inviting swirling windows.  His eyes were incredibly expressive, too; I never had to study them long to know what was going on with him.  He was being deliberately evasive tonight, but I could see everything behind his eyes. 

Shit.  Focus.  Splash!  Right! 

“Splash?  What the fuck does that one have anything to do with…anything?”

He shrugged and kept his eyes on mine as his mouth slowly moved down again, his tongue darting out and licking a strip up from my navel and then back down.  Shit.  I was wrong.  The closed-eyes version was so much easier, so much less intense than watching the lust and the amusement spark through his eyes, his hot breath ghosting over my stomach, hot and foggy and dense.  The shivering and prickling and the goosebumps were so much worse this way.  I wanted him to stop.  I didn’t want him to stop.  I didn’t know what I wanted.  But he could make my body squirm and want to crawl right out of itself. 

He let me keep my eyes open this time.  I n n e r

My eyebrow rose, “Inner?” 

Seriously.  What was he doing?

He nodded, the swirling tongue and the hands and the everything not really stopping this time at all.  Only like the briefest of moments in between where he stopped momentarily and then was all over my stomach again. 

When he pulled back, I was panting. 

W a l l s  

Was he on crack?  Why was this not sexual anymore?  “Walls?” I asked. 

His eyebrow rose to meet my question again, but I really didn’t give a shit when he kept the mouth on me. 

C l e n c h

Well at least that was more sexual!  I moaned as he started up again right as I said the word.

When he pulled back, I really wanted to grab his head and force him to keep going.

“Have you been keeping track?”

“What?  No!  I wasn’t told I had to keep track!  Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It wouldn’t seem so random if you were keeping track…” he commented.

So I actually tried to sift through the annoying insanity he was putting me through here and come up with the last few words.  Semen.  Splash.  Inner.  Walls.  Clench.  Jesus Fucking Christ.  It was like sexual poetry.  

And all I could do was moan at him.  

He chuckled.  Bastard.  

“You’re doing quite well.  I don’t think you’ve missed one yet.  I think that means you can move on to level two.”

I looked down at him. “Level two?  How many goddamn levels are there?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how well you do.”

I just glared at him.

“Are you ready for the next level?”

I scoffed. “I guess.  What’s this one?  More hardcore eroticism 101?”

More smirking.  But he moved up my body about six inches, which put him much closer to where I hoped the game ended.  His mouth hovered in the valley between my breasts, his breath hot and way too controlled.  “Would you like it to be?”

“You’re the game master here, I just play along.”

He nodded. “Well I wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable.  That wouldn’t make the game as interesting.  So these words have to be longer.  Harder.”

Shit.  He was completely distracting.  Because yes, he was incredibly controlled, but he’d also let his cock brush against my thigh as he finished that sentence and he was already very, very hard.  That gave me some level of satisfaction; that at least I knew this was affecting him as much as it was me.  Maybe more.  Because I kept being started and stopped and he had the plan, so he knew what was coming and I didn’t.  Jerk.  Served him right then.  For making me wait and shit.  

His tongue darted out and he licked a strip right between my breasts and my hips kicked and my hands attached to his head and he actually let me get away with more than I thought he would.  My legs started to move to frame his hips and I was so close.  So, so close to getting him to move up just that little bit more.  He was already hard and I was more than fucking ready and he seemed happy to be lapping and sucking at that patch of skin between my breasts so maybe I could just move us away from the game and we could just get to the actual fucking.

Then he stopped.  

Which I made sure he knew was extremely displeasing by my guttural and frustrated growl and the way I pulled his hair.  And then slapped his head.

And he just chuckled again.  Ugh.

“Now, you’ve been doing so well with the game, I wouldn’t want you to stop after only mastering level one.”

I shoved his head away.

“So…we should stop then?  You’re conceding?  Giving up?  Throwing in the towel?”

“Ugh.”  Now, I could have an out here.  I could have just said ‘fuck it’ and given up with the game and I probably could have still coerced sex out of it.  But.  That would also mean actually admitting that I was either giving up or his game was too frustrating and that, well, I just couldn’t do that.  “No.” I said loudly, full of frustration and quite a good deal of anger as well.

“So, I should proceed then?”

“I guess,” I said, completely clipped and huffy.

He didn’t seem to take offense to any of my less than thrilled or short responses.  Instead, quite the opposite.  It seemed to make him even more determined with his game.  

He started spelling again, this time between my breasts, his finger ghosting over the sensitive skin there.  S p o o n i n g.

Aww, Rob.  Christ.  Now how can a girl stay mad at him when he starts all that shit?  I must have managed to get it out because that tongue that had been lapping at the space between my breasts was suddenly a wet presence over my breast, swirling in circles around the nipple and holy fuck, I almost kicked him off the bed.  I mean, I suppose I could have been expecting it, but most of my body felt like heat waves were literally like a visible hazy glow coming off of me and I didn’t think he’d go for it that quickly.  Frustration sort of left immediately.  At least, it did, until he backed off again.  I couldn’t seem to summon the anger this time though.  I just let go of his head and he started the damn spelling again.

F o r e v e r  

Honestly, he could have spelled ‘paper’ at this juncture and I wouldn’t have cared.  And yes, I was all gushy and happy that he was being all romantic and Rob-like, but as long as his mouth got back to my breasts, I didn’t give a fuck what word he decided to use.  And my reward for that one was much longer than the last.  Maybe he was getting as frustrated with the pace as I was.  Seriously though, my hands couldn’t stop touching him and trying to force his mouth to stay there because he did nothing half-assed and paying attention to my nipples was exactly the same way.  He made sure that every millimeter or that area was covered.  And his tongue, sweet Christ, his tongue should have been in the sex hall of fame or something.  Because he could use it in ways that were probably illegal in several states.  I was never a person who thought that orgasm could be achieved solely from someone sucking on your nipples or manipulating your tits, but I was proven wrong frequently with Rob in that area.  And he kept skirting it now.  On purpose, I’m sure.  He’d lap and suck and it was just the right balance of gentle and rough.  His hand would join in and knead all around the outside while his mouth did delicious and wondrous things to areola and my nipple.  I think it was because he just kept going.  He never seemed to get bored with it, and eventually my body would just get so attuned to the sensation and so fucking sensitive because he was not letting up that the tension would snap and then sweet bliss would course through my entire body.  And he wouldn’t stop either, until I physically had to shove his head away.  Maybe he liked it as much as I did.  

‘Cept he kept fucking stopping.  Although he’d kept it up so much longer this time, I couldn’t really find a reason to complain.  I did have to tell him though. “I haven’t gotten one wrong yet, you know.”

“No, you haven’t.  I must be going too easy on you.”

Then the fucker started spelling with his tongue.  On my nipple.  SO not fair.

Because I couldn’t even discern what the hell the word was.  Because it was on my nipple.  With his tongue.  My nipples were so fucking hard and the area was so goddamn small and I mean… how was I ever going to figure out what the fuck he was spelling?!  

I think it started with a W.  And there may have been a K and an E.  But I have no fucking clue what the word was.  I was still humming from his mouth on me and it was still wet from all the sucking and the air on it was only making it worse and, fuck.

“Do you need me to spell it again?”

Asshole!  “Yes.”

So he did.  And I got maybe half the letters again.  His mouth just felt too good.  And my hands refused to stay off of his head which only made concentrating worse.  Shit.

“I…think it starts with a W.”

“It does.”

“And there’s a K and an E.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s about all I’ve got,” I admitted finally after his ‘yes’ just hung in the air there for a few minutes.

He was silent for a minute and I was going to bring my head up to look at him and question if that meant the game was over or what the fuck he had in mind then.  

But I just wound up moaning when he blew air over the nipple and I arched up into his body.  Hands, the stupid hands were right back on his head and gripped it when the next second he fucking bit my nipple.

“Ow!”

He snickered and pulled off, blowing more air over it and I swatted at his head again.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Well you missed the word.”

I forced my head up and I leaned on my elbows.  “You never indicated there was going to be punishment for missing a word.”

“You didn’t ask,” he said, smirk fully in place.  “And the word was ‘wanker.’”

“You’re a wanker,” I said back.  As though that was a really decent comeback.  

His eyes didn’t leave mine but he moved back to the nipple and lapped over it, sucking it back into his mouth and come on!  

“Should we keep going?”

“Are you going to bite me again?”

“If you don’t concentrate and you miss the word, I might.”

I sighed, huffily, deflating against the bed again.  I mean, it wasn’t as though the biting was unpleasant.  It was just… He was very… Ass.

I waved a hand into the air. “Just keep going.”

I paid ridiculously good attention as he started spelling again.  This time on the other tit and back to the finger.  V a m p i

“Rob,” I said.

“Yes?”

“If you keep spelling vampire, I’m going to hit you again.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it.  Out loud.”

I sat up again. “Are you fucking serious?”

He was all smirks and amused eyes with the crinkles and… I melted.  I mean, look at him.  All dork-tastic and cute.  “Vampire.”

“I wasn’t finished spelling.”

“You’re finished spelling that one.”

“Did you ever notice that the line sounded very American Pie?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to kick you off of this bed.  So get back to spelling shit that I won’t hit you for, so we can finish this game, you can fuck me, and then I can spend the rest of the night paying you back.”

“Who’s the one in charge of this game?”

“The more your mouth flaps and the less it’s on my body, the less chance you have of getting laid.”

He nodded. “Good point.”

And promptly got back to spelling.  With the tongue again.  

It was incredibly difficult with the tongue.  I got a B O L and then a C and an S.  He wouldn’t be going to British slang, now would he?  What the fuck was I thinking, of course he would.  “Bollocks?” I said/asked.

“Is that your final answer?”

“Oh my God.  Yes.”

And the heavenly mouth was back, paying attention to the thus-far neglected tit.  After a few seconds, the neglect was gone and he even kneaded the other one just because he was in a giving mood or something.  My legs were starting to curl around him again and I was shamelessly writing my lower body against his, but he totally let me, and his concentration didn’t seem at all wavered by it.  He just kept up the sucking and the licking and the lapping and the circling until I was about ready to tear my hair out.  

And when I was panting and damn near orgasm, he stopped again.

Motherfucker!

“Please, Rob.”  There.  I’d had enough.  “Please.”

“Please, what?”

I whimpered.  “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, I hadn’t planned on stopping the game.”

Frustration have you met Rob?

More chuckling at my frustrated growling and panting and hair-pulling.  “If you can do two more, I’ll move on to level three.”

“Christ, how many levels are there?” I yelled at him.

“Three.”

Urgh.  “Fine.”

He had pity on me and started spelling between my tits again—which was a good plan, because I might have murdered him otherwise.  

L o v

“Love!” I screamed.

He pinched my goddamn nipple.

“What?!”

“The word wasn’t finished.”

So he fucking spelled it again.  Slowly.  

“Ok, fine.  It’s ‘lovely.’  I get it.  I’m lovely.  Thank you.”

He chuckled.  I was so gonna kill him for this.  “Yes, you are quite lovely.  I’m not sure right now… but…”

I swatted at him again.  And was going to yell some more.  But he shifted and brushed against my clit as he descended to my breasts again and my God, I didn’t care then.  At all.  But it didn’t last nearly as long this time, and I was whimpering when he stopped.  

“One more.  Then level three.”

“Just hurry up.”

R o m  

“Romance.  Romance.  Level three.  Let’s go!”

“Now, impatience won’t get you anywhere.  If I was going by the official rules, that would be a violation of spelling policy and it would mean you’d be back at level one.”

I think he knew by the truly feral roar I let out, that was probably not a good rule to follow.  I don’t think he was really going to, but he just wanted to let me know.  Officially.  Bastard.

“But you’ve been doing so well that I’ll let it slide.  But I won’t be able to reward you for that one.”

“Whatever!  Level three.”

He snorted and then he was gone.  What the fuck!?  I picked my head up.  He wasn’t gone at all.  He just moved lower.  Much lower.  Oh fuck a duck.  Level three was my clit.  He was going to spell on my clit.  Oh this was not going to be good at all.  There was no way in hell I was going to be able to spell anything with his mouth there.

All I got was one raised eyebrow and then he was spelling.  And I couldn’t help it.  My body was so fucking over sensitive that I came.  And I had no idea what the fuck he spelled there.  Ya know, too busy having an orgasm and all.

He had the decency to let me finish.  But he hadn’t helped me out at all.  There were no fingers and no tongue helped me along.  He just let me ride it out.  

“What was the word?” he asked.  

I was at least slightly victorious-feeling because he sounded much less in control and out of breath himself.  

“Ugh, please, Rob.  Please.”

“Please isn’t the word.”

“I don’t even fucking care what the word was!”

“Should I spell it again?”

Where did any level of this control come from!?  Why was he not as completely strung out as I was!?  Why were we not fucking already!?

“No!” I screamed.  “I just want you inside me.”

I’m not sure exactly what happened, honestly.  All I know is that a few seconds later, that’s exactly where he was.  And he started thrusting and my legs could finally curl around him properly, and my body was happy with the weight of him and the feel of his cock pushing inside and my hands could hold onto him and pull him down to my mouth and all was right and good and spelling be damned.  

“It was ‘impatient,’” he said, smirking still and rocking me forward on the bed with his thrusts.  “The word was impatient.  Which I think is actually quite funny.”

I didn’t much care at this point, but I felt the need to tell him, “You are an evil, evil, evil man.”

“Thank you.  You’re just lucky,” he stopped for a few minutes because I was deliberately squeezing him, making sure that he got back some of the torture I’d been through here.  “Ugh.  God, Kristen.  Lucky that I didn’t get to unconscionable and effervescent and delectable.”

“Only you would come up with those words.  And could actually spell them.”

“I had quite a few others.”

“I’m sure you did.  You can tell me all about it after you’re done fucking me.”

“Deal.”  He shifted and pulled my legs from his hips, hooking them in the crook of his arms and holy fucking shit, I think the bed was moving.  Boy had some serious pent up frustration of his own I think, and that made me deliriously happy for some reason.  I knew I could drive him nuts.  And usually with little effort.  It was just fact.  And I was proud of that.  I hoped it was something we’d always keep.  That one look from me and he a horny teenager.  But it sometimes annoyed me that he could do the same thing.  I’m not sure why.  Maybe it was some feminist tape I had playing in my head that I had to be the one in control.  Or maybe it was because of how far that control slipped when he was around or he put his mind to actually breaking me down.  It was kind of scary that level of concession, the way I’d completely grant him my surrender, my compliance with so little effort.  He never even had to ask.  And it wasn’t unbalanced—it wasn’t as though I was constantly submissive and giving, he was completely willing to give up control, and I loved that about him.  He wasn’t some jackass that got off of making me yield, it was just…fun to push boundaries.  Fun to come back from it.  And realize that we were still us.  That nothing had changed.  Or…I just liked to win, honestly.  But so did he.  So it proved to be quite explosive and sometimes volatile, both of us teetering and so ready to give in, but not really.  Not all the time.  Sometimes we pushed until one of us cracked.  Or didn’t.  And that was sometimes the most fun.    

So, it’s odd how those things sort of fly into your mind when Rob’s currently fucking you through the mattress and the mattress is shifting.  And the bed frame is hitting the wall.  And you realize you’re kind of screaming.  In a hotel.  Where the walls are not that thick.  And that your direct neighbor surely has been clued into the current activity of their next-door occupants.  And I didn’t give a shit.  In fact, I think it made me louder.  Which only made Rob do it more.  

And I had the most brilliant plan.  Because I was awesome like that.  “Rob…”

His eyes locked on mine, and the question was there, but he didn’t verbalize anything.

“Start spelling.”

He didn’t stop, but his brow furrowed and he panted out, “Spell what?”

“The words.  The words you were going to use.  Now.  Loudly.  Level Three, boy, let’s go.”

“Seriously?” he grunted.

“Start spelling or stop fucking.”

“Shit.”

<Insert evil, maniacal giggle here.>  He should have known I’d get him back.

I lifted my hips and squeezed him. “Now.  Let me hear you.  I think the first word was…” Shit.  What was the first word?  Good God.  I didn’t even remember!

He smirked and thrust particularly harshly and I admit, I yelped a bit.  “Unconscionable,” he managed to get out, an eyebrow rising.

I tugged on his hair and pulled him down to kiss me.  “That’s right.”

He growled at me and shoved forward, making the bed rock rather violently.  “Would you like a sentence too?”

Fucker.  “Yes, smart ass.”

“U-n-c-o-n-s-c-i-o-n-a-b-l-e.  Kristen is completely unconscionable asking her fiancé to spell words while fucking her.”

Now, he could have spelled ‘cat’ and I wouldn’t have known the difference.  Seriously, we were just going on a bit of trust here.  And I spared him the snarky comment about his game being completely unconscionable, and just decided to push him more.

“Next word, Rob.”

“E-f-f-e-r-v-e-s-c-e-n-t.  Sex with Kristen was completely effervescent until she made me spell all these fucking words.”

“Nice.  Next?”

“D-e-l-e-c-t—Oh, fuck, Kristen.”

I giggled…while moaning that is, because his separation and concentration level was apparently much higher than mine.  I was having a hard time even hearing the words being spelled, this electric and static white noise hum sort of taking over my entire brain.  I had no fucking clue how he was even able to focus away from his dick long enough.  Most guys did not have that control.  It was quite impressive.  His mouth became otherwise engaged though, because I couldn’t help myself.  My own wanted his too badly and the words were lost and the spelling forgotten.  

The only sound then was our mingled breathing, screaming, yelling, the pounding of that fucking headboard and someone shouting from the next room and two very, all-consuming and shuddering orgasms.

And after he basically collapsed on top of me, we couldn’t stop giggling.  Because this trip had certainly been beneficial for our more exhibitionist and public tendencies.  First the movie theater, or rather, first his childhood home, which we defiled quite greatly, then the movie theater and now we were surely going to be cited for disturbing the peace or whatever the British equivalent was.  I’m sure we weren’t the first in this hotel though.  I kept waiting for the phone to ring and a nasal-toned, well-mannered, British manager to very nicely tell us we needed to find another place of lodging; which of course would have just made us giggle more, but there was no call, no knock on the door.  The neighbor must have let it go or moved rooms; I didn’t really give a shit with my warm and pleasantly heavy blanket of Rob.  Actually for all I know the pounding could have been them cheering us on, I tended to lose the outside influences when we were fucking.  

He shifted slightly and I whined so he draped himself back over me and just kept grinning at me while our breathing went back to normal.  

“It’s a good idea you did this after I agreed to marry you.”

“You would have married me anyway.”

“That’s quite confident again.”

“Well, hey, when you’ve got it…”

“Yes?”

“You’ve got it.”

I snorted. “You’ve got something, all right.”

“You loved it.”

I smirked. “It was ok.”

He poked me.  And then pinched a nipple.

“Hey!”

“It was ok?” he asked, all cocky eyebrows and tousled hair and ruddy cheeks and ah, fuck.

I twisted my mouth. “You’re a huge dork, but it was better than ok.”

He moved to cover me more. “I’m a huge dork?  Who’s the one that made me spell large words while fucking her?”

“That’d be me,” I said, raising my hand.  “But only to get back at you.”

“Are you saying that my romantic gesture of spelling ‘I love you’ or other sentimental phrases was dorky?”

“It was a little dorky.  But cute.”

“You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I think you’re tougher than that.”

“You never know.  I could be very wounded by your analysis.”

“If the fucking was any indication, you’re fine.”

He smiled and dipped his head to kiss me.  And that became our next project for about the next…forty five minutes or so.  Seriously, we never left the bed the entire day.  And had room service delivered five different times.  Rob claimed this was because he needed to keep his strength up.  We had dinner plans with his family (yes, those five times were before dinner), so eventually we had to pry ourselves away from the bed and the amazingly comfortable sheets and shower and get ready…which of course meant we just took two showers.  And I don’t think one of us was the clear culprit or the one to blame, because he couldn’t keep his hands off of me and I wasn’t any better.  I was very grabby.  And the minute he started buttoning the charcoal gray dress shirt he was going to wear, we got a little sidetracked.  If he wouldn’t have tried to tuck it in, we could have saved at least fifteen more minutes.  Eventually though, we made it.  We were about a half hour late.  But no one seemed to care.  Or question why. 

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7a  Chapter 7b  Chapter 8 Chapter 9a  Chapter 9b  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15 Chapter 16  Chapter 17a  Chapter 17b  Chapter 18a  Chapter 18b  Chapter 19a  Chapter 19b  Chapter 19c  Chapter 20  Chapter 21  Chapter 22  Chapter 23  Chapter 24  Chapter 25  Chapter 26  Chapter 27  Chapter 28  Chapter 29  Chapter 30  Chapter 31  Chapter 32  Chapter 33  Chapter 34  Chapter 35  Chapter 36   Chapter 37  Chapter 38  Chapter 39  Chapter 40   Chapter 41  Chapter 42  Chapter 43 Chapter 44  Chapter 45  Chapter 46  Chapter 47