Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I want to be anywhere but here. Really anywhere. Even at the hospital for one of those endless 40 hours shifts. Just not here.

Bella's loud groan yanks me out of my glum thoughts. She just put her legs up onto the seat in front of her and is kneading her aching thighs. I probably should have made sure I didn’t wear her out that much in the first place, but I think the time spent cuddling in bed afterwards was worth it.

And it's not like she complained about my efforts to gently knead the kinks out of her legs and back again, either.

“You know, we can always catch the next bus home and spend the evening on the couch, watching TV or something,” I offer, but even though I try to sound supportive, the words come out more like a whine.

Bella shoots me a dark look before she stretches languidly.

“We've talked about this before. Like a hundred times. You didn't have to come with me, but I sure as hell won't stay away from my friends just because you want to mope.”

I guess I deserve her scorn, and also her snide tone. I can't even hold it against her, the topic has been coming up nearly every time we talk. That doesn't keep me from being a little resentful, though. It's not often that I have a full day and a half of free time close to or on a weekend, and right now I just want to snuggle with Bella and forget about the rest.

The cynic in me is having a field day, a chance of drama ahead, me pussy whipped as never before, the perfect recipe for disaster. The realist in me knows that it's something else – something that's probably even independent of my aversion to meeting the people I used to call my closest friends.

It's a weird mental state, really. Common literature calls it 'top drop', as opposed to 'sub drop' when it happens to the passive partner. Bella's had a few over the last months, and scared the living shit out of me when it happened the first time, at the end of our second session no less. You get all clingy and weird and need comfort within an inch of your life – which isn't that hard to imagine for a sub after a pretty intense scene that threw her right over the edge of her comfort zone. But it happens to Doms, too, and I feel like I'm hurtling right into a black hole that tries to leach all the energy from me.

I don't even need to think hard to come up with an explanation. As much as I love setting a faster pace, pushing her until I'm edging along her limits, when it comes down to the gritty details, I'm hurting the woman that I love.

She likes it, we both get off on it, we could both have ended it any moment if we hadn't thoroughly enjoyed ourselves – but sometimes intense scenes where I'm going all out being a bastard, I'm feeling drained afterwards and in dire need of comfort and appreciation.

When we cuddle after a scene, it's as much for my benefit as Bella's. We both need grounding, we both need to find our way back to the persons that we are, leave behind the one-sided, black and white world of the playroom where rules are simple and satisfaction is guaranteed. I need to know and feel that she loves me, doesn't see me as the monster I could be if the context were any different. I need to know that she needs me to be exactly as I am. I need her.

I hate being so vulnerable. Being like that always reminds me of my time with Tanya, and that's not a state of mind that I want to revisit ever again. I know it's an irrational resentment as even if our roles were reversed, Bella wouldn't get off on leaving me raw and bleeding, emotionally. Still, for her I want to be strong and independent, I want to be the rock she can cling to and the light that illumines her life – and what I actually am is a mopey wuss.

In a way Bella seems to feel that I'm extra needy tonight as she keeps leaning into me even when she sneers at me, her finger drawing idle patterns on my thigh while she snuggles close, my arm across her shoulder. I still don't want to go to that club, but I know it means a lot to Bella, so of course I'm tagging along.

I murmur a belated “Sorry,” into her hair that she accepts with a gracious nod, before she turns her head and plants a soft kiss onto my jaw. I hug her even closer, and we spend the rest of the ride in silence.

Too soon we're at our stop, and minutes later inside the dark, loud, heated atmosphere of the club. The girl at the coat check smiles flirtatiously at me but I ignore her and make sure to keep my arm around Bella's waist in hope of avoiding anyone else looking at me. I've never been comfortable with random women throwing themselves at me, and with Bella so close it's even weirding me out. Can't they see that I'm clearly not interested?

Thankfully my girl is as oblivious to the flirty looks I'm get ting as she is resistant to any advances from the male crowd. Sometimes I wonder if she's only playing innocent, but I've come to read her quite well over the years, and I think she really has no clue that she's always been a true head turner. Tonight is no exception, and I do my share of glaring and scowling as I follow her through the people milling around, absolutely not minding that she's leading the way as I get a good eye full of her pert ass.

With the dress out of commission, she has chosen to wear dark pants and a thin, white and blue striped halter neck top. I have to grin every time my gaze roams down her bare arm to her right wrist where a wide silver bangle is hiding her leather band and the rather ominous grazes she obtained somewhere along our session this afternoon. She was as stunned as I when she found them while we were cooking together, and I got a swat with the dish towel for that. Not that she's angry, it's more like an inside joke between us. We both end up with weird bruises sometimes with no idea how or even when we got them, but this time I'm clearly to blame. It's nothing serious so I don't have a guilty conscience, but it's things like that that define our lives nowadays. Check every bared inch of skin for marks before you leave the house unless you want to answer awkward questions.

I'm even more underdressed than Bella in a faded pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, with sneakers completing the outfit. The muscles in my thighs are still complaining from what we got up to before, and my left hip is acting up a little. I also feel like my left arm might be sore tomorrow, the flogger be damned. I usually complain that my weird working schedule keeps us from playing more often, but I think that would likely end with one or both of us in dire need of physical therapy before long. And I'm only twenty-four, I have no idea how I'll survive doing this when I'm forty. Maybe I should have gone for orthopedic surgery instead of trauma after all.

I feel my mood lifting slightly as the vibe of the club draws me in. The beat of the music is calling to me, slowly chasing away the bad thoughts with the allure of rhythm and dancing. Even though she has a history of clumsy accidents, Bella loves to dance, and who am I to deny her the chance to wriggle her ass against my crotch for extended amounts of time? We even went to a salsa dancing course this summer, a rather funny and very rewarding experience, although our instructors were less than amused by our constant quiet laughter and sometimes unnecessary groping. But it's not exactly my fault Bella dissolves into a fit of giggles every time anyone mentions the man leading his woman, and I consider myself blessed to be with someone who can be as immature as that sometimes.

Sadly I don't get a chance to drag her onto the dance floor before we have to face reality and meet the others as Bella is like a blood hound when it comes to hunting down Jazz. Not that it takes much to single him out in a crowd – tall, blond, trim built, an obnoxiously chipper pixie constantly attached to his arm, even a blind man could track those two down in minutes. Apprehension immediately wells up in me, but I force myself to stay calm and keep any glares to where Bella can't see them. She does not approve, and who am I to defy the woman I love?

I guess our greeting would seem normal to an unknowing bystander, as Alice basically jumps first Bella, then me with her emphatic embrace and air kisses, and Bella and Jasper's hug is as warm is it always was. Personal record for me, five seconds into being close around him, and I already want to punch him in the face for touching her. I know I'm overreacting, but that doesn't help keep my bile from rising. Jazz and I barely nod at each other, without making eye contact. There's only one other guy I greet with less enthusiasm, and it's heartwarming how the man who was my best buddy now ranges at the same level as the idiot who tried to end my career before it even really started.

Alice and Jazz already got a pitcher of beer, so at least I don't have to flag down a waitress to get some booze. Alice is all excited about Bella's birthday so we do the stupid “cheers!” thing even though it's still a week until the actual date, and I can finally take a deep draft to wet my parched throat. The usual chit chat between the girls ensues, and I just sit back and listen, idly drumming along to the beat of the song with my fingers on Bella's thigh.

“I'm so sorry I can't make it to your party next week, but you know how important the NY fashion week is, I just have to be there to promote my new line, everything else would be bordering on suicide!” Alice chirps, doing some crazy eye rolling and gesticulating with her hands. As usual, she's all dressed up in some flimsy layered pink top and tight leather capri pants, some rose ornament head band keeping her spiky hair in check. Not for the first time I wonder how I could ever let her drag me so far into her world that I actually know that those shorts are referred to as capri pants.

Or something like that. Alice must be out of her mind because of fashion week approaching as for once Jazz looks as if he was allowed to pick his own clothes for the evening – beige cargo pants and a blue shirt with some weird design on it – which is saying a lot.

If I could for one moment forget just why and how things went down, I could even say that Jazz and I are not that different from each other. Both fools, both madly in love with a woman we know we don't deserve, and for whom we're more than ready to sacrifice everything. I mean that's exactly what he did – he cut himself out of my and Bella's life, burned all the bridges, and of course, got the girl, because we're living in a world where the end justifies all means. Only that he's a deceiving little shit who everyone just welcomes back with open arms after he hangs his head and shuffles his feet for five minutes, while I take all the blame and still can't look into my own eyes in the mirror.

I try to push those thoughts and memories away before I do something that will end with one phone call for me, and instead study the menu that's printed on the paper place mats on the table. Most of the club is taken up by the dance floor, but Alice hasn't shut up over the delicious snacks they have, so I might as well find out for myself if she was right, even more so if it keeps me from getting gratuitously violent. Bella meanwhile does some uncomfortable blushing and simpering because of some promise of a present from Alice, but I don't really pay much attention, except for the

“you'll get it next week from Jazz” part that, of course, only fuels the 'Hulk smash!' reaction inside of me.

“So who's coming to the party next week? You said your dad and Sue would come up from Forks? I wonder how they'll do with Renee and Phil.” Bella shrugs, rather unimpressed.

“I'm not really worried, I mean Mom and Dad always got along well after the divorce, and I think since Charlie finally found a woman to cook for and love him as he is, mom's a lot more relaxed. I just don't know if Phil can make it, he has a game on Friday and there was something about the plane schedule. Edward, did Renee say anything last time you talked to her?” Ah right, Renee and I skype. Because someone apparently explained to her how the program works, and Bella was too lazy to sign in with her own account one weekend, and ever since her mother has mine in her contact list. As it seems we're the only ones on said list, and whenever I'm stupid enough to go online, Renee literally jumps me and tells me every insignificant detail of her life she can think of until I come up with some moderately believable excuse as to why I have to head out. I have no idea what it is with me and women that they think they have to abuse me as their stand in best girlfriend – Alice does it, Bella used to do it before she became the real deal, and now her mom is next in line. At least she tells me every week that I have her full approval and that I'm the perfect son-in-law that she's always wished for. I still haven't figured out of that's a good thing, or the worst insult to my masculinity ever.

“She just said that she doesn't know if Phil can make it, but she'll come anyway, because her little girl doesn't turn a quarter of a century every day.”

Bella makes a face at that.

“I swear to you, if you gloat over my age again, I'll find a way to make you really sorry!”

Grinning broadly, I place a gentle kiss on her nose before I shuffle discreetly out of her reach.

“I don't know what it is with you and your age. It's totally hot to date an older woman.”

I'm laughing so hard that I nearly fall from my chair when Bella launches herself at me, and the sudden added weight makes pain radiate from my hip. Ah, the joys of age and of being a randy bastard. It would be easy to subdue the snarling yet tired bundle of energy on my lap, but I let her punch me playfully a few times before I shut her up with a deep kiss. She melts against me, but only for a second, then she's biting my bottom lip and retreating to her own seat, my insatiable vixen. I consider picking her up and molesting her in one of the dark corners of the huge room right this minute, but Alice's glare is enough to tame my raging libido to a simmering need.

Ever since the incident, as Alice refers to it, whatever I do is frowned upon when it comes with even the slightest hint of innuendo. A chaste kiss or innocent touch is okay, but anything more involved than that, and Miss Brandon is frowning her disapproval for everyone to see. If Bella initiates it Alice at least hold her tongue, but woe is me if I show even a hint of dominant behavior, because the pixie will have a field day. While she seemed tolerant enough when I called her after the weekend I was sure had damaged our relationship beyond repair, she's been regressing ever since. She clearly doesn't mind Bella and me being together, and I'd even go so far and say she'd pester us about marriage if either of us showed even the slightest inclination that we were ready to tie that knot, but the fact that we have a sex life that's maybe a little more defined than is the norm seems to disagree with her. Why I have no idea, as I spent nearly an hour explaining myself hoarse that whatever might have happened that week, Bella is my everything and I have no intention of sharing her with anyone else, or go looking for something on the side myself, but she still seems paranoid. I think she even bought my white little lie, as theoretically our scene with Beth was a clear violation of that, but for me, things in the playroom just count as something else.

And the fact that whenever Jazz and I are in close proximity we both behave like two rabid dogs barely able to hide our hostility behind a pleasant mask should help tidy over her misgivings. After all, she was pretty fast to forgive him for wanting to whore around while making her believe that he'd stay exclusive with her. Why can't she show me the same courtesy when all I want to do is spend the rest of my life with Bella?

Meanwhile Bella has saved the day and is once again talking about the party planning, so I return to perusing the menu. We've cooked a quick dinner together and eaten right out of the pan, feeding each other and getting more onto the floor than into our mouths, but I so didn't mind having to lick sauce off her chin. And her cleavage. And in passing lapping and sucking her tormented nipples until she threw her head back and more or less pleaded for me to fuck her again right on the kitchen counter. By then it had been too late for that and we would have likely never made it out of the condo, much to my chagrin. Just thinking about her sensitive nipples makes me hard again, and I’m determined to make up for what I’ve been missing on account of our busy schedule – sooner rather than later.

“Found anything interesting on the menu that you've been staring at for the last ten minutes?”

I smile at Bella's whisper into my ear, and shrug mutely. Knowing me well enough after six years, Bella chuckles before biting her lip, intensifying the problem in my now too tight jeans.

“I think you said the quesadillas are so delicious, right?” It's oddly comforting that I'm not the only one who has been pestered with the food they serve here. The description of the different fillings sounds mouth-watering enough, and I'm only too happy to let Bella choose which ones we should try.

“Oh they are!” Alice confirms, doing that annoying clapping thing again.

“But I can't eat any, you know, I have to be looking my best next week, and I've been living off nothing but carrots for days already.” As if Alice has ever had a single extra gram of body mass. The only reason she hasn't become a model herself is her height, but she could sweep down any catwalk any day if she wanted without changing her eating habits. On clue Jasper's stomach rumbles loudly, and I wonder just how far that carrot diet has been extended in their household. The thought cracks me up, and my laughter is apparently contagious, as Bella joins right in.

“That's too bad, really,” Bella surmises, still grinning. “But the three of us could share a plate, I mean with all the fillings it's hard to settle on just one.”

And people say that foot-in-mouth disease is pathologically occurring in guys only.

If it weren't so sad, it would be funny to watch how Alice's mood changes.

It's as if someone pulled a switch from bubbly and exuberant to glaring harpy mode. Equally amusing is the way how Jazz visibly shuts down, only the look of panic in his eyes speaking of what's going on inside of him. My instinctual reaction is to crack some really bad joke that probably only twelve year olds would find funny, but until four months ago Jazz, Bella, and I weren't exactly known for the maturity of our humor. Somewhat wiser now I hold my tongue, but it's so damn hard because Bella is still oblivious of our reactions as she hasn't looked up from the menu yet.

Alice is ready to explode, but I know that nothing I can say now will change a thing – it's Bella's turn to diffuse the situation, and not even the seconds of loaded silence tip her off how her words might have been perceived. I'm even tempted to wait for things to get worse when she will inevitably vote for her favorite fillings – chicken breast and portobello mushrooms – but I'm afraid that I won't survive the laughing fit that I will have to succumb to in order not to burst. So I knock my knee discreetly into her thigh in the hope of making her focus on her surroundings.

“What is it?” Bella absentmindedly grunts, and for a moment Jazz's and my gaze lock. I see the same urge to laugh about the sheer hilarity of the situation in his eyes, and for a moment the connection we've always shared is there again. Years of teasing Bella for her crazy verbal diarrhea, particularly when she's drunk, have honed our skills to make already funny statements worse, and I even wonder where we find the restraint to hold back. But then reality makes that bubble burst, and I'm feeling positively morose all of a sudden.

Clearing my throat noisily finally does the trick and Bella looks up, only to find herself at the center of hostile attention. She's confused for a few moments, her gaze skimming from Jazz to me, until she finally realizes her mistake as she looks over at Alice. Her cheeks flame up immediately, and I can nearly hear the 'oh shit!' that must be zooming through her thoughts.

More awkward silence ensues, until Bella finally reclaims her voice.

“Or we'll just get a plate on our own. I'm too greedy to share anyway.” Not the best save, but it could have been worse. I hurry to flag down a waitress, and Alice slowly calms down while we place our orders. Because now the three of us share the confidence of a tree mold Bella and I get some avocado and mango quesadillas, and Jazz gets his with ham and sour cream. Alice seems pacified enough and more than happy to fill the heavy silence with not exactly amusing tales of how her assistant nearly ruined her latest clothing line.

By the time the order arrives I'm in dire need of a divine intervention or some booze, preferably both, and Bella doesn't look too happy, either. The food at least is holding up to expectations, even though the company is somewhat lacking.

We're halfway through the quesadillas when Alice gets up, immediately grumpy when Bella doesn't instantly surge to her feet to follow.

“Alice, I really don't have to go to the bathroom ...”

“Come on, girl-talk time!”

Apparently all women belong to a secret society so evasion is impossible, and after a last, somewhat panicked look at me, Bella joins Alice, and they leave Jazz and me behind to guard the food, or whatever. In the reality according to Alice, we can't make stupid remarks, but for some reason it's still allowed for us guys to hang out, unwatched and unguarded, for five minutes. Or ten. Fuck, I hope it's only five.

If the plate sharing comment has been awkward, we need a new word for the atmosphere that is settling on the table now that the girls are gone. For endless minutes Jazz and I both avoid even acknowledging each other's presence, munching our food and finishing the rest of our beers. The food is tasteless and the beer almost sour, and the resentment and anger inside of me makes me physically ill. I wish I were a smoker so I could use that as an excuse to go outside until the girls return, but in the absence of that I can't think of any other reason for getting up that won’t make me look like a wimp. So I sit there and stare either at the table or at the people around us, and try hard not to think of anything at all so my mind can't flip and send me into doing something I will later regret.

The waitress returns to take our empty plates and glasses away, and remains batting her lashes at us until we both tell her that we'll get our drinks later directly at the bar. For some reason that breaks our talking embargo, or maybe manners make us feel obliged to have some small talk.

“How's it going at the hospital?”

I shrug as there's really not much to say.

“Good, I guess. Working long hours as usual.”

Jazz nods, looking in my direction but not at me.

“How's work?” I remember some detail Bella dropped last week, and in my attempt to appear civil I add, “Did you already launch your company?” He seems surprised that I know that he and two of his co-workers decided to found their own business to get out of corporate hell, and for a moment our gazes cross.

“Not yet, some bureaucratic crap keeps holding us up. But next week when Alice is in New York I should have the time to get everything sorted out and started. I still have to set up the servers and ...” He trails off and looks away, scratching his head rather self-consciously. No rambling allowed for the wicked.

“And all that stuff. You know. Geek stuff.”

I nod even though I don't really know, and neither do I care. Devoid of any other topic than work, we fall silent again and more agonizing minutes pass.

“Did you see the Mariners game last Sunday?” he suddenly pipes up, sounding nearly glad that he found something else to say. Or at least he seems like that to me.

“Nope. Double shift from Saturday till Sunday, and I was on call after that –

and they did call, so I didn't even catch the re-runs.”

“That's nasty. Was a good game.” I have no idea if the note of sympathy in his voice is real. It doesn't matter anyway.

More silence, but now it's a hint more relaxed. Those twenty sentences are more than we've spoken in – forever. As much as I hate to be sitting here, I feel weirdly melancholic all of a sudden. For years we've been hanging out most of our free time, rooming together since college. And now all we can talk about is work and some stupid baseball game.

The more I think of that, the more uncomfortable I am, and just to get rid of that feeling I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.

“How are things with you and Alice? I mean -”

I trail off there because what I want to ask him is if it was worth all the shit, but he gets it without me having to actually voice the words. A somewhat guarded look haunts his eyes for a moment, but then he smiles, and it's the first real emotion that Jazz has shown the whole evening until now.

“Seriously, she drives me crazy, but that's Alice. Wouldn't want to change a single thing, even if I could.”

I don't know why, but his words take a few moments to draw that animalistic pain from deep in my chest, and until then I actually feel myself being happy for them. Maybe Alice is right, maybe they really are soulmates and meant to be together. Bella certainly thinks they deserve each other, and right now I agree. If he's what Alice wants, she should be happy with Jazz. And for a few seconds I can even admit that I kind of want to see him happy, too.

But then the rational part of my brain is lost to the rage and agony crashing over me like a tidal wave, and the urge to punch him until he’s paid for what he’s done is nearly overwhelming. Only the fact that, despite whatever he was trying to accomplish, Bella's love for me was strong enough to cut through his plans is holding me back. If nothing else I owe her enough to honor her forgiveness, even though I don't understand it. For her I can keep it together, if not get over things as fast as everyone expects me to.

While I do a good job holding myself in check, I don't doubt that the look on my face must be murderous, and after a few moments Jazz's words confirm that suspicion.

“Fuck, Edward, you know how I meant that, I didn't want to -”

“I know exactly how you mean it,” I bite back and make eye contact with him to underline my words. “Trust me, I'm living with the results of your little plan every fucking day, and I'm the only one who has had to bear all the fucking consequences!”

Thankfully the girls come back before I can say anything still more embarrassing, and the weird look on Jasper's face helps only so much to tide over the grim feelings still fighting for dominance inside me. The moment Bella slips into her seat I get up, in terrible need of letting off some steam any way I can.

“Drinks, ladies? What so you think of a round of shots to start the evening off, on me?”

Bella graces me with a long look but nods immediately, and Alice follows suit. No one mentions the evident hostility the girls have come back to, so I try my best to play things down.

“Let me guess, three shots of tequila, and what can I bring you, dearest Alice mine?”

For some reason or other she's scowling again, but I know that tequila just makes her sick, while it's been the drug of choice for the rest of us.

“Jazz and I both take a shot of gin.”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard not to burst out laughing, and can somehow still turn that into a smirk when Jasper's shoulders sag in a mute sigh where Alice can't see it, but he nods.

“Gin for me, too, please.”

Bella blinks in irritation, knowing as well as I do that Jazz only drinks gin –

preferably warm – when he has to make himself hurl, but apparently the leash Alice put around his neck is tight enough that he doesn't dare speak up against her.

I nod and take off towards the bar, aiming for the straightest line I can manage. Our waitress is now mixing drinks there, and I place my order –

four shots of tequila oro and two shots of gin. I tip her extra for asking if we want salt and limes, or cinnamon and oranges, and I tell her to put both in the tray. While she's busy slicing the orange I chuck down two of the tequila shots, not bothering with the whole ritual but welcoming the raw burn down my throat and straight into my stomach.

“Let me guess, one of the girls has been the other's girlfriend, right? Only rivalry over some pussy can get guys this riled up.” I stare at her, but her bright grin doesn't even falter.

“Nope. Good guess, but completely off.”

The waitress taps one lacquered nail against the wood of the bar.

“That's weird, really, because I remember you two being pretty tight. I mean your friend's Jasper Whitlock, and you're Edward Cullen.” I'm not even surprised that she knows Jazz, I wouldn't even be surprised to find out that she knows him, but usually his skanks don't recognize me, and I'd certainly remember her if she'd been one of our few mutual pickups.

Contrary to him I remember all the faces and names of the girls I've fucked.

I still have to ask, out of curiosity.

“Oh, I've been working at Zero's before I got the job here, I remember you guys hanging out there sometimes. Come to think of it,” she muses, then puts the small dish with the orange and lime slices next to the shots before she reaches for a pen and napkin.

“If either, or both, of you guys find yourself alone without the ladies, give me-”

“Don't even bother,” I cut her off rudely, my voice harsh enough to make her stop in mid scrawl. When she eyes me askance, I feel a little bad for being so nasty, but I don't want Bella to know about this, and I certainly don't trust Jazz.

“I'm engaged, and his relationship is pretty serious, you'd just wait forever for a call that will never come.”

A shrewd look lights up her face and her smile is bordering on dirty, but she throws the napkin right into the trash.

“Too bad. Or what is it they say, all the good guys are either married, or they're gay.”

I don't know why, but her words hit a little too close to home. I shrug them off as I pick up the small tray.

“Whatever.”

I try to shake off the feeling that she's still smirking at me as I make my way back to the others, and thankfully the air has cleared in my short absence.

Bella is ecstatic that I remembered her new habit of drinking tequila, picked up from some German exchange student who was been interning over the summer at her job and gleefully reaches for the cinnamon. Bella is nibbling on her orange slice before she finishes the second one off, all the while glancing at me from the corner of her eye. I'm pretty sure that means that she has an idea why there were four slices for only two shots, but I don't care. Three shots in as many minutes zoom right into my blood stream, and my grumpiness starts to dissolve.

I'm not afraid of getting drunk, I even welcome it. I'm more prone to say something I will regret later when I'm sober, as my mind is more easily distracted by the beautiful woman leaning into me when I'm intoxicated, and distracted is good. The girls keep giggling over something for a while, but before long I can't keep my hands to myself. When she feels my bare palm slide over her lower back underneath her top, Bella grins at me, then she takes my other hand and tugs me off my chair and towards the dance floor.

Her eyes are glinting with mischief when we reach the dance floor, and the next moment she turns around and rubs her ass shamelessly against my thighs and crotch. I'm instantly hard, and for now only too ready to forget we're not quite on our own here. Bella laughs delightedly when I grab her hips and start to move with her, and I have a feeling that the night might be picking up from here on.