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Page 46

"Yeah, keep squirming like that, you're getting my cock all hard that way."

Bella grows still for a moment, then seems to give up, relaxing against me.

She stops trying to pry my hand off her face and instead lets her arms drop to her sides almost docilely. Chuckling softly I push my hips into her ass, feeling my cock react to the stimulation, which in turn also draws a low moan from Jazz as the motion propagates well through Bella's body.

"You're such a little tease," I pick up from him, never stopping sliding my cock against her. "I think we need to teach you a lesson."

Bella squeals into my hand when Jazz unceremoniously yanks down her pants and underwear in one go, then shoves up her shirt and bra, leaving most of her body exposed. As I have to shift my grip around her middle anyway to let him do that I switch hands, leaving her just enough time to cry out before my other palm is cutting off the sound for the most part again. Her will to fight renewed Bella keeps pushing at us, but to no avail.

She also doesn't stop when I stroke my free hand down her stomach, then cup her pussy, in one motion both rubbing against her clit and Jazz's cock.

I keep doing that for a while, relishing making them both moan. Jazz in the meanwhile is busy playing with Bella's tits, only causing her to squirm even more.

With my dick all hard against her ass I soon can't keep this up anymore, and Bella doesn't even pick up cursing us again when I let go of her face.

Letting go of her altogether I pull my own pants down, then push her far enough away from me so that I can move. Grabbing her thighs just above the knee from behind I heave her off the floor, forcing her legs apart in the same motion that makes her sag back against my shoulder. The scream that leaves her lips is most satisfying.

Bella thankfully has the sense to stop moving after her bare heel hits Jazz in the arm, and I sag back against the fridge, letting the hard surface help me support her like that. Jazz, ever helpful, steps in and helps me steady her, sliding her legs around until I have them hooked over my arms.

"What now?" he turns to me, grinning mischievously.

"Now you grab the lube from the coffee table, slick up my cock, and then you help me get it into her squirming little ass. I don't think I have to tell you what to do with your own after that."

He chuckles as he's already letting go of Bella to fetch the bottle still left out from the evening before. Bella turns her head so that her face is pressed against my throat, and I have to laugh again when I feel her teeth scraping over my skin.

She's not too heavy but I'm still glad when Jazz returns, having somehow lost his own clothes on the way. Squirting a liberal amount of lube into his right hand he steps closer to us again, and he smirks a little at my moan when his fingers close around my cock.

He's quick and efficient as he strokes me a few times, then adds still more lube and keeps going, while his eyes keep flitting between Bella's face and my own. I just love the sensation, both from the anticipation and the fact that he clearly knows more about how to pump a cock than suck it, but I can't really protest when he lets go of me in the end to add yet more lube to Bella's anus.

When he's satisfied with the prep work he grabs my cock again, and after a little squeezing guides it to where it belongs. I feel Bella tense a little when I enter her, but she pushes herself down fast enough to show us both that I'm not the only eager one here.

As time is somewhat of the essence with my strength not lasting forever Jazz doesn't dawdle, and a few moments later I feel his cock slide into her pussy. I groan both from that and the lessening of strain when he slips his arms in next to mine to take some of her weight off me, the shift caused by that feeling even more delicious.

Neither of us needs a signal as we both start thrusting into her.

Coordinating our movements takes a little longer than usual but finally we find the right rhythm, me going in just as he withdraws, which works best for us as it keeps her body mostly level. Bella's urgent pants and huffs speak about the same language, and once she seems certain that we're done re-arranging her between us, she reaches out with her arms and pulls both mine and Jazz's head closer to hers.

Eagerly latching on to her neck I tighten my grip on her even more, then slowly withdraw first one hand, then the other, to instead hold her firmly around her waist with my crossed arms over her stomach. As much as that might limit how much I can move, supporting her is more important now, and the strain of the position makes her tighter than usually anyway. Plus, Jazz is doing a good enough job fucking her hard enough for the both of us, the sensation of his cock rubbing against my own making me forget the pain that is starting in my arms, back and legs.

Bella screams every time he slams into her, her shouts soon rising in pitch and growing hoarse with need, spurring us both on more. Soon it all gets too much for Jazz and he comes with a loud cry, briefly sagging against Bella and forcing me to stop. She hasn't regained her senses enough to utter a coherent word yet when he withdraws his cock and pushes his fingers into her instead, using his shoulder against her torso to keep her steady.

"Holy! Fucking! Shit! Please let me! Argh!" Bella cries out, each of her words accentuating Jazz's motions, and I'm a step away from climaxing myself when I bark a simple "Yes!" at her.

Coming together has seldom been such a rush.

Even after I put her back onto her own now shaky feet, Bella remains wedged between Jazz and me, happy to kiss every available mouth hungrily seeking hers, and I love coming down together like that, it's nearly as good as fucking her has been before.

That is, until the phone starts ringing, cutting right through our collective post-orgasmic haze.

It's not my cell so I'm instantly relieved that I'm not getting dragged to work right away, but there are not that many people who still call our landline. I'm also very indisposed of the idea of getting the call now, as are the others, not even Bella tries to squirm her way out of our now loose grasp.

Whoever is calling is insistent, and after the tenth ring, our answering machine picks up. I can't say I'm not a little bit weirded out by hearing my mother's voice just then.

"Bella, Edward, since you're not picking up the phone I presume you're either still sleeping, or otherwise occupied upstairs." She pauses then pointedly, but resumes in the same neutral tone. "I'm calling to inform you that I expect you to invite Jasper to the dinner today, if you've somehow forgotten to do so already." That stressed now. "I know that the three of you have been going through some rough patches, but he's still your friend, and I'm obliging you to ask him. Rose and Emmett will be joining us, and Alice will be coming, too, so if he doesn't want to because of that, I understand, but I would still love to have him with us. I know his family lives several states away and I don't want him to spend today somewhere alone. And Edward? Don't steal all the cranberries, you know how much everyone loves Bella's relish."

She hangs up then and the answering machine shuts off with a beep, just as Jazz starts to laugh. Bella joins in a moment later, as do I, after a shouted "That wasn't me!" in the general direction of the living room.

Our sweaty sandwich disassembles then as we move away from each other to shower and dress again, although Bella only joins us after finishing her cooking alone first. I don't feel like it's necessary to extend the invitation to Jazz as he has heard it himself, but he doesn't comment on it until a few hours later when Bella disappears upstairs to get dressed for dinner.

"Do you think it's a good idea if I come with you?"

I'm so tempted to tell him that it's always a good idea if he comes with me, but now's not the time for jokes like that, and it's obvious how uncomfortable he is already. Purging my brain of lewd comments I shrug, trying to be honest.

"You have to decide yourself. She's there, and there's no way you're going to avoid her, but I'm sure that my mom will do her best not to let conversations die. If nothing else, she'll tell her stupid anecdotes of when I was a child, and you always laughed at them in the past."

"Yeah, you smearing cranberry sauce all over the new beige carpet when you were five is just too good not to laugh at it. Besides, she'll probably be occupied cooing over the kid anyway." He doesn't sound too convincing then, and when he looks up at me, there's a different kind of uncertainty on his face. "But what I also meant was showing up with you and Bella at the same time. The three of us together, and not gloating or fighting. It kind of does send a message, and no one can accuse either of us of being very subtle and able to hide anything."

"Do we have anything to hide?"

I wish I didn't feel a pang of hurt inside as I say that but at least my voice is steady and as inconspicuous as it gets, and Jazz doesn't seem to pick up on it. Instead he's scratching his head, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Maybe we just don't have anything to advertise?"

Of course he's right, but that doesn't change things.

"I think everyone except my parents knows that you're crashing on our couch, so it won't be that much of a surprise if we show up together. And you heard my mom, she'll probably tell everyone that she ordered Bella and me to drag you along, so I think we should be safe."

He's still not looking convinced, but then Bella calls for us to get dressed, which concludes out brief discussion. I'm still lost in thoughts when I'm done shrugging into my clothes, but Bella's unnatural behavior finally draws my attention. She's still only in her black bra and panties, rifling through her stuff, haphazardly pulling things off a hanger and shoving them back after a moment's study. Just when I want to ask what's going on she pulls out a sleeveless black dress and turns to me, her brows furrowed.

"Would this make me look like a slut?"

Again I have to swallow the impulse to say the first thing that comes to my mind – which in this case is a tie between me informing her that I'd love to bend her over and fuck her when she's wearing only that dress and stay-ups, and telling her that I don't mind as long as she's my slut – and immediately shake my head.

"No, of course not, it's very elegant and classy. But you'd be hopelessly overdressed."

I pointedly look down at my own gray shirt and dark blue jeans.

"I know!" she sighs, then goes back to finding something else. Jazz joins us a few minutes later, cautiously sticking his head into the bedroom to see why we're taking so long. He still doesn't know, and I wonder if he's disappointed not to have again walked in on us getting it on.

"Outfit troubles," I inform him, and he looks as puzzled as I feel.

"What's the fuss? It's just Thanksgiving dinner, I don't remember anyone ever dressing up for that."

I shrug, neglecting to mention that last year Bella wore a similar dress to the one that she just showed me, only in pale blue, and I would have loved to fuck her right on the dinner table in it. Sadly she had still been with Mike then, and the only thing blue I had come in contact with had been my balls.

Turning to us both now Bella holds up a sweater and cardigan combo that causes Jazz to snort derisively.

"How old are you, eighty?"

She sighs heavily, then keeps on searching. Jazz eyes me askance but I can only shrug, not knowing myself what this is all about. I also don't really remember anything of her wardrobe that isn't linked to my mental note of

"needs to be fucked in", so I'm keeping my tongue about suggestions.

Bella eventually gives up and just slips on some dark jeans and a purple blouse, although from the way that outfit accentuates her ass and tits my sentiments haven't really changed.

Bundled into a few more layers against the cold we finally make it to the car and into the light afternoon traffic. Jazz is banished to the backseat to watch the casserole, while Bella keeps the cranberry relish on her lap, as if to fend anyone off who might try to snag a taste. They both seem lost in their own thoughts so I busy myself with humming along to the songs on the radio in an attempt to ignore my own risinganxiety.

I'm somewhat tempted to suggest we just keep on driving and avoid the whole possibility for disaster, when at the last traffic light before we reach my parents' house a familiar vehicle comes to a stop in the lane next to us.

Emmett grins at me from the driver's side, an unfamiliar place for him since Rose never gave up driving until she had the little bundle of joy currently sleeping in her mother's arms next to him. At her husband's antics Rose looks up, too, pursing her lips at what I guess is a frown on my face.

The light switches to green and Emmett, for once behaving as childish as Rose so often claims that he is, hits the gas to slip into my lane before us.

That way we arrive just after them, conveniently spilling all of us together onto the well-tended front steps.

There's the usual greeting, hugging and back slapping, before Rose and Bella both snark at us guys to get the heavy stuff from the cars instead of gossiping. When I pass by her Rose gives me a pointed look as if to silently ask what is going on, but I ignore her, deciding to play dumb instead.

Before I can reach the door it already opens, revealing my smiling mother.

Never minding that we're all carrying goods and babies, respectively, she kisses Bella and Rose, then hugs me warmly before she does the same with Jazz and Emmett without even hesitating for a second. Herding us before her she directs us to the kitchen, and after that I have the pleasure of barely receiving a nod from my father. His disapproval is still palpable and he doesn't even try to hide it – and all that before he could even have found out what new, or not so knew, things I've been up to.

As accepting as my mother is, he has always felt like any of my actions reflect back on him badly, and being one of the youngest doctors in the history of our state doesn't do a thing to counteract the oh so obvious flaws adhering to me. His words, not mine, and for once I'm surprised how little I'm caring about his disapproving stare.

As always, since the fateful night my parents got to know a lot more than they ever wanted to about their son's private life this summer, Bella takes it upon herself to run interference, first hugging Carlisle, then plastering herself to my side so that there's nothing I can do except snake one arm around her waist and let her show everyone just how comfortable she is with me. Whether that's a conscious action or not I still don't know, and neither do I care. Only that today I feel a bit of an ass as that leaves Jazz standing on his own with happy couples all around him – the effect only getting ten times worse when suddenly Alice steps out of the dining room, holding hands with an unfamiliar guy.

Bella goes still as a statue at my side, and I allow myself a weary if silent sigh. She and Alice have never been the best of friends, and I can only guess what the things Jazz told us yesterday must have done to that fragile bond of female friendship. I myself don't blame Alice, and the addition of someone to this dinner who probably doesn't know about what went on between all of us this year actually makes me glad. It also makes me feel like a wuss, but not having this end in a disaster would make for a better day.

There's a moment of awkward silence when every one of the newcomers is taxing Alice and her arm candy, and as this is still my home, even if I haven't lived here for years, I feel obliged to act a little more civil than I would otherwise do. Extending my hand towards him I offer him a smile.

"Hi, Edward, and this is Bella and Jazz."

I can't tell if Alice notices just how fluently I include Jazz, but she doesn't show it, only smiles back at me after we have completed the brief handshake. He's a bit older than us, maybe in his early thirties, and not what I would expect her to go for ever. He's handsome, but more in an academic geek kind of way than the obvious good looks she usually goes for, also dressed the part in conservative dress slacks and jacket, but thankfully no tie.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Nate," he introduces himself, his voice a little small with what I gather must be the usual apprehension of meeting his girlfriend's friends, including parents. His behavior towards Jazz is rather civil, surprising me a bit, and his face positively lights up when he turns to Bella. "We've met already, right? Yesterday, in the book store?"

And suddenly Bella's strange behavior makes a whole lot more sense.

She's still tense as hell as she clears her throat, then responds with her voice oddly strained.

"Yeah, right, yesterday. Did you find that book you were looking for, on, what was it, the propagation of European Medieval societal hierarchy into the American colonies?"

I follow their exchange with a near sick kind of glee on the inside, while I hope that my pleasant smile on the outside doesn't look like a shark ready to go for his helpless prey. I seem to be doing a good job except for the long look my mother bestows on me when Bella cuts their conversation short, and with a tense, "I need to talk to you," pulls me back towards the kitchen.

We're barely out of earshot of the others when she stops and turns to me, torn between apologetic cringing and half-hostile defiance.

"So you met Alice's new boyfriend yesterday, huh?" I ask succinctly as I lean closer to her, using my height to appear just a tad more intimidating than is probably called for. In turn Bella straightens and crosses her arms over her chest, the line of her jaw clearly defined as she gnashes her teeth.

"Yes, in fact I met Alice and Nate yesterday, just after my meeting with my editor, when I was already running late for my late lunch with Jazz. Bite me!"

We stare into each other's eyes for a few moments, but she's the first to look away, her cheeks coloring with a deep blush of discomfort. She starts fidgeting then, and when she makes as if to turn away from me I don't move, forcing her to either squeeze herself by me or stay where she is.

She stays, but when she looks at me again a certain amount of exasperation has replaced part of the defiance.

"Obviously I know about him, no big deal. But maybe now you can better understand why Jazz's rambled confession made me want to tear his head off, then drag you both into bed with me? She's so obviously over him, has discarded him like a dishrag, and I couldn't just ignore that all of a sudden there was no reason left why we shouldn't re-start what we had, if we wanted that. And before you ask, I didn't tell either of you asshats because I knew you'd just get your heads shoved even further up your asses if you knew. Don't even try to deny it!"

I let her stew for a while before I straighten, giving her a little more space.

"I'm not. But if I recall, you've had ample opportunity to tell me afterwards."

She huffs, but then sighs.

"Yes, I had, and I'm sorry I neglected to do so, but I was kind of hoping that she wouldn't bring him here. I know, I can get quite delusional when I get fucked thoroughly enough."

I reward that with a grin – not a nice one, but it is obvious that it had the desired effect on her, the way she holds her breath for a moment – then lean in with the intent of kissing her with a silent promise of providing her with more reason for further delusions later, but before I can finish the move I hear my mother clear her throat from the direction of the door.

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