Chapter 3: Frightened Kitten In The Middle Of A Storm

Edward

Tyler showed up on Friday and as predicted chose one of the sketches I had rendered for him. In all
actuality he just about jumped out of his skin when he saw them, which conjured up a Hellraiser type
image that was less than pleasant. He brought his girl with him, and she hung off the arm she was
tattooed on like a comical, plastically attractive barnacle. She had long black hair and fake boobs,
which were very hard not to stare at because her walleyed nipples were poking through her pink tank
top and I feared that they would slice through the thin fabric they were so hard.
Did I mention she was going braless?
It was unnerving to say the least, but Tyler was so excited about the designs he didn’t even notice
that I was staring, thankfully.
It wasn’t that she was hot either, it was that she was disturbing in her fakeness.
I noticed when the Tiger Kitten—as I had affectionately named her in my head seeing as she looked
the part of the innocent but was clearly far more capable of taking care of herself than I would have
given her credit for—left the bookstore with Esme just before eleven. She must be a new employee.
Her hair was acting as a veil again so I couldn’t see her face which pissed me off more than it should.
I kept imagining shoving my face into her long luxurious hair while she rode me on a chair, or
maybe the couch would be more comfortable, and easier to switch positions . . . her little curvy body
pressed against mine, slick with sweat . . .
I digress.
Jasper had left early Thursday morning for Texas and had called Alice a total of six times since
landing. I thought about telling him he was pussy-whipped, which he admittedly knew, but considering
the circumstances I thought it best to keep my asshole mouth shut.
Besides, it seemed as though I might be headed in the same direction and I didn’t even know the
girl’s name.
~*~
On Saturday I watched as Tiger Kitten walked into the bookstore again. I was mentally keeping
track of how often she seemed to work, looking for a pattern because I was obviously creepy and
obsessive.
And a little fucking OCD if I was completely honest, but I didn’t want to ask Esme about her just
yet.
She was wearing headphones and her steps were deliberate yet somehow tentative at the same time,
like I said, a kitten who thinks it’s a tiger. She wore enormous sunglasses and her hands were wrapped
in gauze.
She had hurt herself.
Had they been like that yesterday?
Why hadn’t I paid closer attention?
Ah yes, because of the hair and chair/couch sex daydream I had been having.
“Edward, did you hear a thing I said?” Emmett was standing in front of me, blocking my view of
the door that the Tiger Kitten—who I was currently picturing scantily clad in animal print underwear—
had just walked through.
“What?” I asked testily.
I was thinking here—well fantasizing.
“Dude, what the fuck is up with you? You’ve been all over the board since Wednesday,” Emmett
squinted at me like there were words written across my forehead in Bible print that he was trying to
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read.
“What are you talking about?” I leaned back in my chair, lacing my fingers behind my head,
pretending I was a laid back motherfucker, which I currently was not.
I maintained a neutral expression even though I was stunned.
I hadn’t realized I was so damn transparent.
Emmett shook his head, “If you were a chick I’d say you have PMS but since you have a dick I’d
say you need to get laid, which brings me back to the original one-sided conversation I was having
while you so rudely ignored me. I’m going to the peelers tonight with Felix and Alec, you should
come.”
I rolled my eyes, Felix and Alec were tools as far as I was concerned but I could certainly use a
little . . . visual stimulation and possibly some extracurricular action.
“Fucking fine,” I nodded and swivelled in my chair, turning back to my station to prepare for my
next client since my kitten was out of sight and I didn’t want to add any fuel to Emmett’s fire of
suspicion.
Sometime in the late afternoon I glanced up from the tattoo of the American flag I was working on,
on some random dude’s ass whose name I couldn’t and didn’t want to remember. Normally I would be
working on an ass tattoo in the back because most people don't like to parade their parts around in a
busy tattoo studio, but not this guy. He flat out fucking refused. I don't know if he was afraid I was gay
and would hit on him, which is just preposterous or if he's an exhibitionist, but he insisted on baring his
ass in my chair, front and center in the shop.
I was ready to kill Emmett by the way
The benefical part of this was that I had the chance to watch as Tiger Kitten walked out of the
bookstore, headphones on, messenger bag over her shoulder, head down and eyes up.
Her gaze flickered to the shop for an instant and she hesitated, taking her lower lip between her
teeth –god that's sexy—before she walked with the same deliberation as she had earlier down the street.
Was she thinking about coming in here?
Why did I care?
Oh yes, that’s right because she’s quickly becoming the new focus of all of your sexual fantasies.
It was ridiculous.
And now I was hard, just from looking at her.
Fuck.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and looked at the guy’s ass in front of me which resulted in an
instant limp dick. Thank Christ because the last thing I needed was a hard on while working on some
guys ass.
I shuddered at the horrendousness of that thought.
~*~
By the time we got to the peelers I had already downed half a bottle of tequila and was feeling no
pain. Our waitress was a blonde named Rose that Emmett immediately took a liking to. She rolled her
eyes at his lewd comments and told him to go fuck himself when he propositioned her.
I liked her.
She didn’t seem to fit the typical profile of a strip joint waitress. For one her breasts looked real and
her demeanour suggested that she was above the job she was doing. I was curious as to what her deal
was. The fact that she didn’t put up with Emmett’s shit was just another check mark in her favour.
Thanks to Emmett’s irritating persistence not to mention insistence that I needed some sort of
action tonight, I ended up getting a lap dance from some rotten crotch girl who smelled like fake
flowers and, well . . . rotten crotch. I could barely manage a semi and politely declined when she
offered me her services free of charge. I could only imagine the diseases attached to that mouth and
snatch considering this was far from a high end peeler joint. I was fairly sure that fucking her would be
similar to throwing a hotdog down a hallway.
That prospect was unappealing to say the least.
And I felt. . .some strange and foreign emotion just having her grinding herself in my lap,
something like, I don’t know, guilt? It didn’t make sense and just made me pissier that I originally was
when I walked through the door.
At the end of the night Emmett gave Rose his card and she tossed it into the empty pitcher of beer
before she turned around and smacked her own ass and flipped him the bird. He left her a hundred
dollar tip.
Idiot.
I’m pretty sure he wrote his number down on a napkin before he left, like he was a desperate horny
teenager.
Thanks to the growth of a conscious I had missed out on potential oral gratification and required
my own services at the end of the night. I was reduced to spending some quality time with porn, a
bottle of lotion and my hand in the comfort of my own home.
I flicked through the porn channels but my mind kept wandering back to Tiger Kitten. I scrubbed
my hand over my face and gritted my teeth, sighing loudly into the empty room. This was getting out
of hand. I had no idea why I was so fixated on this girl and why she had taken over my fantasies but I
was resolved, as I pictured her sprawled out over my piano, that I would find out who she was and
absolve the enigma so I could go back to jerking it to faceless bodies.
Maybe Emmett was right and I did need to get laid, but lately I had gotten sick of the scene. The
one night stands were physically gratifying, but the awkwardness that ensued when they realized they
would not be staying over, nor would they be seeing my bedroom, was starting to get a little old.
That’s right, I don’t fuck in my bedroom, ever.
Kitchen counter, check.
Couch, check.
Floor, double check.
Wall, check, check and check.
It wasn’t that I did it all the time, but I am a man, and women throw themselves at me more
frequently than I piss so I can’t help it that I give in the urge once in a while.
Well more than once in a while if I’m going to be completely honest.
I rolled out of bed on Sunday morning with ridiculous morning wood thanks to a lovely dream
starring the one and only Tiger Kitten and I had to relieve myself before I could even begin to
contemplate going for a run. It was starting to get a little cooler as summer came to an end and fall
settled in the air like a quiet ghost. I pulled on a pair of sweats and a long sleeve shirt, grabbed my iPod
and shove my feet into my running shoes.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator and waved to the doorman-slash-security guy as I headed out
into the crisp morning air. It felt good to run, sitting in a chair all day bent over someone else’s body
creating art was satisfying in terms of my profession but it didn’t do much to help with the physical
release I craved and if I wasn’t going to be fucking someone I needed to expel the pent up energy
somehow.
The feel of my muscles flexing and contracting, the burn in my lungs as I pushed harder and faster
felt sinfully good for some reason today.
By the time I returned to the apartment I had to rush to get to work on time. I usually took Sunday
and Monday off but with Jasper out of town that would not be happening this week. Typically I walked,
but seeing as I was already pushing it for time and I’d run seven miles I hopped into my black Audi R8
and sped the four blocks to the shop.
20
Alice was sitting at the jewellery counter when I walked in, “You’re late Edward,” she didn’t look
up but flicked a quarter at me and hit me between the eyes.
How did she do that?
“Jesus fuck Alice,” I growled at her.
“Nice language Edward. Do you kiss the ladies with that dirty mouth of yours? Wait don’t answer
that please. Go get me a coffee, and Emmett won’t be in until one, he’s feeling a little . . . worn out,”
Alice raised her head and her grin was devilish.
I smirked in response; we both knew what that meant. He must have made a phone call to one of
his regular girls, or more likely in Emmett’s case, more than one of his regular girls. If he was worn out
I was betting on Tanya and Kate. Those two were up for anything. And I mean anything.
I should know.
I’ve been part of the anything equation before.
I crossed the street and headed into the bookstore. I hadn’t seen Esme since Wednesday and if I
wanted to get a little info on the girl who was plaguing my fantasies.
“Edward,” she craned her neck over the pile of books so that I could just see her eyes peeking over
the top. The way they crinkled in the corners told me that she was smiling.
I grinned at her, “Hello Esme,” I leaned over and placed a kiss on top of her head.
“You don’t normally work on Sunday’s,” she looked at me questioningly.
“Jazz is out of town so I’m taking his shifts for him until he gets back,” I picked up several of the
books and read the titles, mostly classics.
“Ah, is everything okay?” Esme folded the corner of the page and closed the book, her mouth
turning down in a slight frown as the maternal side surfaced.
I half expected her to bring me a plate of chocolate chip cookies and glass of milk every time I
came into the store. She reminded me, almost painfully, of my mother when I was a child.
“Sure, nothing to worry about,” I said vaguely.
Esme treated all of us with the same motherly care. She often invited us to the Cullen estate in
Evanston for holidays knowing full well that Alice was the only one of our quartet with family close by
and they weren’t exactly the type of people you wanted to spend quality time with. Sometimes I
wondered if Jazz told her things about his past that he didn’t tell Emmett and me. There were times that
I was tempted to tell Esme about what I thought had really happened to my parents, how it was
probably my fault. The desire was strongest when she would take me to the basement of the bookstore
and let me root through the boxes of old-new books, but I was selfish for her love and I couldn’t stand
the idea of her seeing the blackness that marred my soul so I kept that part of my past to myself.
“Hmm,” she nodded pensively, knowing full well that I wasn’t being forthcoming with her but
realizing that it was Jazz’s story to tell and not mine. Not that I really knew the story at all.
“Did you hire someone new?” I blurted out, feeling like a seventeen year old with a fucking crush
and wanting to change the subject.
Esme smiled but it was sad and a little strained, “I did, her name is Bella, she’s a little shy.”
“I’ve seen you leaving with her,” I offered, trying to cover my eagerness at the information being
given to me, “Is she a student?”
“Yes, she goes to Northwestern though,” Esme nodded thoughtfully.
This struck me as odd, Northwestern was located in Evanston where Carlisle and Esme lived, a half
hour drive away and the University of Chicago was inside the city. Why would someone choose to live
in the city and commute to Evanston? Maybe she lived with her family, that would make sense I guess.
How old was she? She didn’t look like an undergrad. Christ almighty I was pathetic.
“Do you think I could have a look at that box of books you were talking about last week?” I needed
to move away from the topic of Bella or my fixation would become far too apparent.
Alice would be pissed that I was taking so long but I didn’t really care, Emmett had been saddling
me with the shittiest of the shit so I wasn’t about to feel bad for taking a few minutes to look at books.
“Of course Edward,” Esme smiled knowingly, “Bella, would you be a dear and show Edward the
most recent acquisitions?” she called over her shoulder.
Here I am asking questions about her and she’s close enough to hear me.
I watched in fascination as Bella came out from between the stacks of books, slowly, cautiously.
She reminded me of a frightened animal, knowing that a predator was near and she was moving toward
it rather than away. Her eyes darted back and forth, flickering over me without pause as though looking
at me might cause me to pounce and take her down. Which I was thinking might not be a bad idea apart
from the fact that Esme was sitting there watching this odd exchange.
I scanned her body slowly seeing as she wasn’t truly looking at me and wouldn’t catch me
appraising her.
And appraise I did.
She was wearing a pair of dark fitted jeans that hugged her frail and curvy little body. I could feel
the coiling in my muscles, the urge to just take and take and take as all the blood in my body changed
course and headed straight to my dick. Consume her. I had never had such a strong reaction to anyone
in my entire life. There was just something about this fragile and ethereal creature before me that made
me want her in the most primal way.
I needed to check the urge immediately because the way I was feeling made me sure I would do
some damage if I ever acted on that impulse.
The shirt she was wearing was sapphire blue and accentuated the porcelain quality of her skin, a
doll, a fairy, something unnatural and unreal. It clung to her like a second skin and while it was far
from revealing I could imagine with perfect clarity what her body would look like without it, spread out
on my bed, waiting. I wonder if she’s wearing the red bra, or better yet, one that matched the shirt. I
could see the blue line of vein running up her neck behind her ear and I watched her throat bob with a
nervous swallow as her eyes slowly flickered up to mine and then away just as quickly, and back again,
a volley of glances.
Frightened kitten.
I realized I must be looking at her like she was something to eat so I gave her my warmest smile,
knowing that the piercings and the tattoos could be off-putting, especially to a girl like her, without the
addition of me leering at her like a creepy fucking douche.
She blinked at me, eyes wide and pupils dilated, as though she was on some sort of drug although
that was unlikely considering she looked like the girl next door, who shoots vodka straight. Her cheeks
coloured pink immediately and her eyes shifted toward the floor. Her hands were clasped in front of
her, trembling slightly.
Terrified kitten.
“Bella, this is my nephew Edward, he owns at the tattoo shop across the street,” Esme’s voice was
soft, prodding and as always, maternal with just a hint of pride.
“Hello Bella,” I said in the smooth voice I reserved for putting first time clients at ease.
Saying her name aloud did something to me that I never would have anticipated. A warmth shot
through my veins and my cock hardened further, like a steel rod straining in my pants.
What the hell was happening to me?
“Hi Edward,” Bella didn’t look up as she spoke but the sound of my name leaving her lips, coupled
with the furious and fiery blush made my already aching cock twitch.
Holy hell.
Bella didn’t wait for me to respond, instead she turned quickly and manoeuvred her way through
the stacks of books, not even checking to see if I was following.
I watched her hips sway in a hypnotizing rhythm as she made her way to the door of the basement.
Thoughts of picking her up and taking her against the wall from behind, or turning her around so I
could see her face while she wrapped her legs around my waist and I thrust myself inside her heat
flashed through my mind. I tried to think about other less erotic things, baseball stats, baseballs, my
balls in Bella’s little hands. . .fuck! Not helpful at all.
Esme knew that I could find the books myself if I wanted to and so I had to assume this was her
way of forcing Bella to talk to me, which wasn’t working out all that well so far since she had said all
of two words to me and I was too busy concocting sexually deviant fantasies including her to bother
trying to engage her in conversation.
Way to fucking go Masen.
As her fingers touched the door knob I noticed that the gauze that had previously been wrapped
around her hands had been reduced to wide bandages.
I didn’t think about what I did next, it was as though my brain shut down and some magnetic force
took over for me pulling me toward her.
Touch.
I want.
I need to feel her.
I reached out and stroked the coarse fabric, “You hurt yourself.”
What was I doing?
I was so close to her, too close. I could feel the heat of her body, the tremor that ran through her as
my fingers grazed the bandage and then the soft, smooth skin of the back of her hand.
Electri-fucking-fying.
I was so close that my nose grazed a few fine strands of her hair and I admit I sniffed her, like I was
a predator, an animal. It took all of my restraint not to just shove my nose right into her hair and breathe
her in, which would terrify her no doubt seeing as she was still shaking and ready to bolt like a skittish
little forest creature.
And the smell, oh jesusgodinheaven the smell was overwhelming. It was lilac and vanilla and
mouth watering.
Like cupcakes.
I fucking love cupcakes.
“I fell,” she whispered, looking up at me, panic in her big brown eyes as her tongue darted out and
she licked her lips before taking the bottom one between her teeth.
I was practically on top of her and wanting to just press myself against her to see how we would fit
together, whether her body would mould to mine as perfectly as I thought it might. I was irrational and
scaring the hell out of myself to be honest.
Vulnerable. Scared. Beautiful.
I grew impossibly harder in that instant.
And I recognized immediately that she was lying.
“You’re a terrible liar,” I smirked at her.
Her expression changed immediately and her eyes narrowed, “What’s it to you anyway?” she spat
at me. If she had fur it would be standing on end right about now.
Ah, the Tiger Kitten was back.
I smiled wider which just seemed to make her angrier.
She was stunning in her ferocity.
She wrenched the door open and stomped down the stairs, losing her footing on the last step and
falling backward into my chest. I caught her just in time to avoid her making contact with what would
have been my very obvious erection, thanking God that I had at least worn a looser fitting pair of jeans
today. My hands wrapped around her arms that were so thin that my fingers overlapped my thumb.
Unfortunately, sort of, a number of things happened when her body made contact with mine. I lost
all sense of reason and time; every cell in my body seemed to burst into flames inside me with the very
innocent and unexpected contact. A massive jolt of energy coursed through me and I bit back a groan as
it spiked in my groin. I truly feared for my dick in that instant, sure it might explode, or literally take
off from my body like a rocket launching into outer space only to be devoured by a black hole, never to
be seen again.
Which would be fucking tragic.
My fingers grazed the side of her breast when I wrapped them around her arms and she gasped. It
took me a second to realize what had happened while I was busy processing the sensations that were
unhinging me and I quickly righted her, severing the contact and apologizing.
Even in the dim light of the basement I could see the blush rising in her cheeks, and the very
prominent outline of two very hard nipples like beacons straining against the thin fabric of her shirt.
Obviously she was not wearing a padded bra.
Thank you oh god of flimsy and sheer lingerie and undergarments.
I stared at her chest a beat too long and she huffed, turning a shade of red I would not have thought
possible or visible in the dimly lit room.
She spun around and motioned to several boxes, “These are the ones that I haven’t had a chance to
go through yet. When you’re done you could at least be helpful and bring one up since they’re heavy
and you look like you are more than capable of handling it.”
It wasn’t even an overtly suggestive statement at all but her eyes widened at her own words and I
wondered if she would ever return to that beautiful creamy pale or if she would stay permanently red. I
wasn’t sure which I liked better on her.
Her eyes darted around the room, careful to avoid resting on me and she heaved a smaller box into
her arms, wincing slightly, making me want to take the box from her because I’m sure that carrying it
was hurting her already injured hands. Although I was pretty sure my offer of assistance would go over
like a lead balloon.
She made her way back up the stairs, stumbling once when she was close to the top, causing me to
hold my breath because the last thing I wanted was for her to end up in a heap, bleeding on the floor in
front of me.
I stood there for a moment, wondering what the fuck had just happened, trying to calm my raging
hard on before I browsed quickly through a box, and seeing one or two books I wanted I carried it up
the stairs and brought it to the front desk.
I paid for the ones I selected and told Esme I would try and come back next week to have a better
look before I picked up Alice’s coffee and one for myself.
Bella was nowhere to be found when I left the bookstore.
Frightened Kitten indeed.