But there was no way I’d beg for it.
Which meant my passive-aggressive behavior had to become decidedly more aggressive-aggressive.
Ignoring the clothing, I wrapped the towel around me and opened the door, planning to walk out to the living area where Edward had been working before I’d gotten in the bath in search of a bottle of water or acetaminophen or a nighttime snack. And if I dropped the towel when I reached for whatever item I was after, and Edward had to face me completely naked, well, whoops.
Except when I stepped out of the bathroom, I discovered Edward, still dressed in the suit and tie he’d worn for whatever business he’d done today, was in the bedroom. Which was unusual since he generally waited until I was asleep before he came to this part of the suite. Even stranger, he was standing at my side of the bed.
And any thought that he might be having the same ideas as I was were seemingly confirmed by what he was holding in his hand—my newly purchased pink Lelo vibrator.
“Really, Celia? You think this little thing is going to satisfy you?”
I forgot I’d left it on the nightstand before I’d taken my bath. I’d lain there for nearly half an hour, contemplating using it before I’d abandoned it for a soak instead. In fact, I hadn’t used it even once since I’d bought it two weeks earlier. It wasn’t that I thought sex toys were immoral or that masturbating was a form of cheating. The prospect of using it just increased my feeling of loneliness. I wanted to play with my husband, and the inanimate object was sure to be a poor substitute.
Forgetting to put it away suddenly seemed fortuitous.
While there was absolutely no hint of seduction in his tone when he’d spoken, he’d at least engaged. It was progress I intended to use to my advantage.
I nodded at the object in his hand. “I have a better bet at getting off from that than from a husband who refuses to touch me.”
“I told you before I’d fuck you.”
The offer had come in the middle of a terse conversation and had been so full of venom I’d ignored it. It pricked to hear it again, recognizing it as a weapon. A way of shifting blame. The problems between us are you, obviously. I’m here. I offered.
Well, fuck him and his “offer.” I didn’t need him cold and hard. I’d do better with the toy.
“No need to trouble yourself,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.” I spun back to the bathroom to grab the lotion I’d left there on the counter.
When I returned, Edward was still where I’d left him, but now he had the vibrator pressed to his nose, sniffing.
I shivered, knowing what scent he was looking for. The indecency of the act caused arousal to pool between my legs.
I hated him for that. For having such an effect on me. Hated him almost as much as I loved him.
“Are you equally loathe to put this toy out? It hasn’t been used.” His smile was smug, and I hated him for that too.
I marched across the room and snatched the toy from his hand. “Maybe I washed it.”
“Pussy scent doesn’t wipe away that easily.”
“I only just bought it. I had it out because I was planning to use it now.” It was a challenge. An attempt to make him jealous. To make him plead, please don’t use it. Use me instead.
What he actually said was nothing like that at all. “Good idea. Now that you’re all nice and clean you can get yourself dirty.”
I spun away from him and set the lotion on the nightstand, using that as an excuse so he wouldn’t see my disappointment knit across my features. This was how every conversation went with him these days. Barbs and jabs back and forth. Never a winner. What did I have to do to make that change? What did I have to say?
I took a deep breath and tried to listen to the conversation objectively. Tried to hear what his goal was in this exchange. Edward was the last person on earth I’d call passive, but was that what this was? His version of walking in and dropping the towel? His way of saying he wanted me as much as I wanted him?
I turned back toward him, and with less hostility, I awkwardly held out an olive branch. “Would you rather it were you dirtying me up?”
He was three feet away, the closest he’d been for any real amount of time in weeks, and I was nearly naked, a fact I was very aware of as his eyes skimmed down my face, down my neck, to the top of my breasts. I held my breath and silently begged for him to make the next move.
He stepped a foot closer, the heat between us as thick and solid as a wall. “Would you rather it were me?”
My jaw tightened. Of course he would force me to be the vulnerable one. That was the true goal of these battles, wasn’t it? Both of us intent on the other being the first to bend. The first to be exposed. The first to say something honest.
If there was ever going to be a chance for us, a chance to be the family I knew we could be, then one of us would eventually have to take that risk. It could be me. Maybe even it should be.
“You can,” I whispered. “If you want.” It wasn’t the complete surrender that was needed, and I knew it. I was chickenshit, too scared to say what I really felt. Yes, I want it to be you. Make me dirty, Edward. Love me like you used to.
My heart pounded with anticipation as his heated gaze drifted once more over my face, lingering on my lips before dropping lower to my abdomen. I saw the change in his expression as he remembered what lay hidden behind the towel, underneath the expanding stretch of flesh. The last victory taken in our war, and it had been mine.
He stepped back, cold sweeping in between us like an arctic front. “You’ve already made the purchase. It would be a shame to waste the money.” He glanced at the vibrator still in my hand. “No matter how disappointing the experience might be. Two of my fingers are wider than that, and you’re not usually satisfied until you have at least three.”
There he was, the devil I’d married. In full-blown splendor. Taunting me with what he wouldn’t let me have.
It brought out the devil in me as well. “Size is less important than what’s done with it. This should do just fine.”
“Since you’re so good at knowing what you need, yes, I’m sure it shall.” The words dripped with sarcasm as he turned away from me, removing his jacket as he walked to the closet. As though he were done with me and my “needs.”
“It will,” I said, wanting his attention back, as cruel as it had been.
He hung up his jacket then shifted back to face me. Undoing his tie, he threw me a challenging stare. “What are you waiting for then? Go on.”
“I’m waiting for you to leave.”
“Leave? I’m done with my work. I thought I’d retire early tonight.”
God, he was infuriating. He’d probably only come in the room to get his reading glasses, or some report that he’d left on his nightstand the evening before. The only reason he was staying was to prove I had no real intention of getting myself off.
But I’d bought the damn vibrator, so I did have the intention, even if I hadn’t used it as of yet. And if he wasn’t going to give, I’d take care of myself. “Stay then. You can pretend I’m not here, like you always do. Turn the light off, will you?”
I dropped the towel, and somehow managed to stay standing tall underneath his gaze.
“I’d rather keep it on,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been a moment before. It was barely noticeable, the change in timbre, but it was there, and it bolstered me.
I baited him. “So you can watch?”
“So I can judge.”
The upward curl of his lip got me low in my belly, a tug of desire so strong that any inhibitions about masturbating fell away. Besides, I’d done this before. On our wedding night. I’d played with myself while he watched until he couldn’t stand it anymore and he’d taken over. Then he’d fucked me, and nothing between us was ever the same.
Maybe that would happen again.
“Suit yourself,” I said, laying on the bed, my shoulders propped up by the headboard. I pressed the button on the toy, incr
easing the power until the buzz was quite loud and strong. It was a steady vibration, the default out of twenty possible settings, and while I would have experimented more with which one I liked if I were alone, I left it as is and shoved the pulsing tip between my legs.
“Oh my God.” I closed my eyes, the sensation against my clit more intense than Edward’s fingers. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. It was almost too intense, and if I weren’t trying to prove some point, I would have turned the damn thing down.
But I was trying to prove a point, and beyond that, I had grasped something that I hadn’t been able to get hold of for weeks—my husband’s attention. I was desperate to keep it, even if it meant enduring the brutal buzz against my sensitive nerves.
I lasted all of ten seconds before I had to lift the toy ever so slightly to give myself a break. Fortunately, my knees up like they were, I was pretty sure Edward couldn’t tell. Not that I was even sure he was actually watching since I wasn’t about to look at him. It was enough to imagine that he might be.
I tried the tip against me again and had to immediately jerk it away.
“Too much for you?” Edward’s voice cut through the haze of sensation.
So he was watching.
“Fuck you, it’s perfect.” I tried a new tactic—pressing the head of the toy to the spot next to my clit instead of directly on it. This, I could manage. This sent enough vibration to my hotspot without being overwhelming.
And now I could concentrate on the real source of my gathering pleasure—Edward. His eyes were more effective than a vibrator ever could be. It turned me on to be watched by him. It felt sexy and naughty and almost like cheating. Combined with the steady pulsation of the toy, an orgasm was building, slowly but surely. My back arched up off the bed as I let out a sigh.
“You’re faking.”
“I am not.” I shot him a glare, which was a mistake because then I saw how hard he was, how the crotch of his pants tented with his cock at full mast. He couldn’t be wearing underwear, and hell, that was hot.
I forced myself to look away, but I kept the image in my mind. Imagined more. Imagined him taking his cock out, about fisting it with one strong hand, about him crawling over me and sinking deep, deep...
“Open your knees.”
No way. “Undo your pants.”
“Already undone.”
At that, my head swung back toward him. Sure enough, his pants were undone and his cock was in his hand, just as I’d imagined. There was no looking away from him now. He’d caught my gaze and trapped it.
“Open your knees,” he demanded again.
I wanted to hold on to his eyes too much to deny him. So I opened my knees, showing him everything between them. Which meant I had to move the vibrator to my clit again so that he wouldn’t know I hadn’t been able to handle it.
Of course I jerked almost instantly.
He stepped closer. Closer still, his stare boring like a hot laser onto my pussy. “Turn down the vibration,” he ordered when he was at my side. I clicked it down a notch. “More.” Another notch. “One more.”
I clicked the button again, and it was better now, but I handed the toy toward him anyway. “You could take over.”
“I’m busy.” He reached over to the lotion at my bedside and pumped a dab into his hand, then he spread it over his cock with the downward glide of his palm.
Yes, he was indeed busy.
“You could be busy with me,” I purred, no longer able to restrain myself.
“I am busy with you.” He stroked leisurely up his length. “Put it inside you.”
For a fraction of a second I thought he meant his cock, and my breath hitched with anticipation. But before I could reach out and pull him to me, he nodded to the vibrator still in my hand.
“Oh.” I brought it down to my entrance and worked the head inside the hole. He’d only been somewhat exaggerating when he’d made fun of the small size—it was a fairly innocuous vibrator—but it had been months since I’d had anything inside me at all, and I was tight.
I was also sensitive. The pregnancy alien that had invaded my body had done especially strange things to my lower regions, and the vibration of the toy against my inner walls made my entire pussy tighten and buzz, even with just the tip buried inside.
It was already enough for me, but it wasn’t enough for Edward.
“Deeper,” he ordered, and because I could rarely ignore this particular commanding tone of his voice, I pushed it in a little farther.
It still wasn’t enough. “All the way,” he said sharply.
I whimpered as I pressed it in as far as I could. I felt so full. So tight. So on fire.
“Good,” he said, and I almost came right then I was so happy I’d pleased him. “Now fuck yourself with it.”
I did as he told, shoving the object in and out while his dark hooded eyes watched in earnest.
“Harder,” he said, and I complied. Then, “Pretend it’s me,” and I increased my tempo yet again, and let out a moan at the erotic sound my juices made as the toy slid in and out. “Fuck. Yes. Just like that.” His own strokes quickened, matching mine. “Touch your clit with your other hand.”
My fingers nudged against the sensitive bud, and my knees involuntarily pressed together, as if to push away the intensity of the sensation.
My husband wouldn’t have that. “Keep your legs open wide so I can see.”
I took a breath and eased them back down. I was panting now. So close to coming. So close to falling apart and breaking down and letting him have every last piece of me, even the parts I’d managed to withhold.
“Edward…” Tears pricked at my eyes.
“Say it.”
“What?”
“Say what you want to say.”
He knew. He knew everything that was inside of me, and he was determined to reel it out.
But it wasn’t that easy. The words were lodged so far inside that I couldn’t recognize their form. “I don’t know what that is.”
“You do.”
I shook my head, trying to shake off the overwhelming feelings that pressed like high waters behind a dam. “I need to come,” I said, focusing on the physical.
“That’s not it.” His voice was coarse and insistent.
“Edward…” I blinked up at him, my eyes darting from his to the brisk jerk of his hand. “I need…” you. I need you inside me. I need to feel you driving hard and deep into my cunt. I need to feel your skin on mine. To taste your lips. To feel your body go rigid when you rut against me with your release.
It was too much—the sensation, the sight, the emotions bottled up inside me, and I exploded like a firework on the Fourth of July. Color and light streaked across my field of vision as my body undulated against my hand. And any words that had been at the tip of my tongue, fell out of my mouth in a tangle of unintelligible grunts and gasps as pure bliss strangled through my limbs.
When I’d come back to myself enough to speak real words, I realized he was also at the brink. His face was as tight as his grip on his cock, his hand flying back and forth along its length.
I scooted quickly to the edge of the bed. “Put it on me,” I begged. “Come on me. Please, Edward. Please!”
But even in the throes of pleasure, he had strength enough to resist. With a low groan, he stepped back just as white liquid spurted out over his hand.
I envied his hand. I wanted to be decorated in his cum. I wanted to be marked by him. To belong to him. To be so attached to him that he couldn’t ever retreat.
I was still staring at the mess he’d made when he spoke. “You’re starting to show.”
My eyes moved to find his staring at my once-flat abdomen. Warmth spread through my chest. He never talked about the baby or the pregnancy unless I forced the subject, and then his responses were always clipped and dismissive.
I put my palm across my belly, as if I could hold his gaze there. As if I could connect it to the child within. “I barely notice the ch
ange, but I guess I am. I don’t fit in my pants anymore.”
He continued to stare for another few seconds. Heavy, silent seconds where I wished more than anything to know what he was thinking. To be in his head.
“Edward?” I said when the weight of the silence became unbearable.
He snapped out of his reverie, tucking himself into his pants as he turned away from me. “An excuse for you to go shopping. You should enjoy that.”
I preferred when he shopped for me, and he knew it.
The moment was broken. We were back to opposing sidelines, back to our distance and our war.
I sat up, wanting to pull him back. “Tomorrow’s the ultrasound. Are you still coming?”
“I said I would when you asked last time.” He disappeared into the bathroom.
“Just wanted to be sure you hadn’t changed your mind,” I called after him. The sound of the faucet running was my only response.
I sat for a second, trying to decide what I should do next, or if there was anything I could do. Maybe I should let the conversation lie. Let him get ready for bed then, once the lights were out, roll innocently into his space.
I stood and picked up the discarded towel from the floor and used it to wipe off the toy. When I looked up, Edward had returned from the bathroom, still dressed.
Without a word, he crossed the room toward the living area.
“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed,” I asked, sure I already knew the answer. Away from me was where.
He glanced at me but looked away quickly, as if looking at me for too long was painful. “I changed my mind,” he said, then left the room without another word.
I sank back on the bed and brushed away a tear. Pregnancy made them fall at the drop of a hat these days, and while they were often justified, this was not an occasion to cry. We might have just had sex without any touching, but it was sex. And he’d brought up my pregnancy. It was more than he’d allowed me in months.
I had to see it as a step forward. I refused to see it as anything else.
“We’ll get there,” I promised our baby. “One step at a time, I have to believe for your sake that we’ll get there.”
Rising Page 3