So...after more than a year, I'm updating.

I've pulled the other chapter 4 because it was crappier than

usual (delete-delete) and replaced it with this one. Sorry to have taken so long. No excuses, I just
wasn't able to write anything worth reading for a while. I hope you don't mind (much) the wait. Enjoy!
It's done.
News stations are calling it the drug bust of the decade. Ten months after Bella was shot, they'd finally
nailed the Juarez Cartel. Her team did most of the hard work, aided by a somewhat curious set of
coincidences that eventually led to the capture of the most dangerous drug lord in the northern
hemisphere. Little details that didn't seem to add up at first a deal gone bad in South Mexico, a smalltown distributor pulling out in California, a trail of sloppy paperwork that broke another deal in Italy.
Then a few weeks ago, Marco Guzman, Juarez's most trusted lieutenant, was found dead in Russia,
purportedly on the hands of the Russian mafia whom he double-crossed. He was shot, gangland style,
in a hotel room in Leningrad. A laptop was found in his room, and curiouser and curiouser, it contained
a wealth of data found only in the Fed's wildest fantasiespaper trails to hidden bank accounts, sketchy
files on dummy corporations, an obscure ledger for future transactions. Bella's team worked overtime
to set up the final trap, a non-existent deal in Seattle. In one final swoop, everything fell to their places,
ten months to the day the motherfucker's goons almost killed her.
"Excellent work, Irina. I'll see you in Rome next month."
I sit back on my chair after I cut the secure connection. I'm back in my father's office in New York.
There's no question that it's mine now. For a few weeks after the shooting, Anthony was forced to
assume chairmanship as I refused to leave Bella's side until she was able to go back to work. He'd made
it plain to the board that I was in charge, and that there was nothing they can do to pull him out of
retirement.
I call him up and talk for a while. I have a few minutes to spare before I go into meetings for the rest of
the day.
Anthony ends the call with his usual "give my love to Bella," pushing her again to the forefront of my
mind. She'd called the day before, telling me she's flying in today from Seattle but I'm not to pick her
up at the airport because she's dropping by her office, and that she'll wait for at home...and that she has
a question for me...and that we needed to talk. Sounds ominous, except I know exactly what she wants
to talk about.
She'd be back at our place by now. My choice of home this time. After the shooting, she'd been in no
position to insist on old arrangements and I wasted no time in making them for her. Her team was
recalled to their New York office then, a fortunate coincidence for me, although I would've gladly
based myself wherever she was. I bought us a reasonably spacious single-family home on 87th St., with
a small garden and several bedrooms. It came fully staff but I had everyone live off-site. I bought her a
car, as her bike is a little impractical for the city. Nothing flashy, of course, as she'd insisted on a
moderately-priced model to fit into her narrow parking space at the bureau.
She'd be sleeping by now, cramming in hours of rest before I come home. Naked under our sheets,
hogging my side of the bed. It's too bad I didn't wire my own bedroom so I can watch her sleep. It's
worse that I can't cancel my appointments to rush home and join her. She needs her rest. She's not
going to get much later.
She's still sleeping when I get home. Flinging back the bed covers, I find her lying on her stomach,
with a leg stretched to one side, giving me a great view of her ass and her neatly trimmed bush. I sit
down beside her and dip a finger between her legs. Fuck, she's wet, wet enough for my cock to slide
into her without her waking. I feel saliva pool in my mouth, my cock swelling painfully inside my
pants.

I pull her ass towards the edge of the bed and flip her to her back. I open her legs, position myself and
take a long, leisurely lick of her pussy. She stirs, I lick again. She starts to wake with a moan..
"Edward?" She blinks at me sleepily.
"Shhh.."
"Edward, wait, ahhhhh..."
She jerks, her ass lifting off the bed as she flings back her arms to grab at the sheets as I give her clit a
long, hard suck.
She's practically still asleep, and disoriented, when I push two fingers inside her. She cries out an
ahhhh, her legs falling to the sides. I hold her hips down, as my refasten my mouth on her clit, sucking,
licking, laving her pussy with saliva as I stab her cunt with my fingers. Fast, then faster, until her pretty
pussy's dripping and swollen into pretty pink.
Her back arches as her pussy contracts, thrusting her breasts up. I grab one and squeeze as she grabs at
my hair and pull hard. I put my mouth where my fingers had been and grab both her tits, holding her
down in the process. I suck, stab her hole with my tongue, my hands squeezing her tits hard, licking her
furiously as she writhes and moans under me. She's barely awake when she starts to come, screaming
little screams, her legs falling and lifting as she strains against my hold. She bucks and squirms, but I
carry on sucking and licking through her ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ahhhhhhhhh, not stopping until she comes
again.
I smile as her legs slackens against my head, and start kissing my way from her pussy to the inside of
her thighs, to her knee, her ankle. She squeals in protest and pulls away as I try to suck on her dainty
little toes. Sometimes it turns her on like a firecracker, sometimes she finds it disgusting. Other times,
she can't make up her mind. I grab her other ankle and pull her ass back to the edge of the bed..
She looks up at me from our messed-up sheets, trying to catch her breath, more awake now than asleep.
Then she smiles a sleepy smile, and it takes everything in me not to plow back into her hard, over and
over, until she's gasping and breathless and can't decide if she wants me to stop or carry on.
She looks me over, laughs softly. "Board meeting?"
I realize I still have my suit ona tailored Saviletie, jacket, shoes and all.
I prop both her legs against my chest, her ass against my hard but still-clothed dick, as I make a show
of taking off my jacket and tie. She's wriggling a foot against me, her toes playing with my shirt
buttons. I take hold of her wriggling foot and kiss her ankle, as her toes seem to be a no-go at this point,
going down to lick her knees, trailing my tongue to the junction of her thighs to drop a light kiss and a
quick lick on her pussy.
She sighs and pulls me down so I can kiss her properly. A full body kisstongue on tongue, open mouth
on mouth. She wraps her legs around me, her arms holding the back of my neck. I put mine loosely
around hers.
She moans as I grab a breast and squeeze, pressing her against me. I slide my hand to grasp her nipple,
pebbling, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger as I play with her tongue inside my mouth. She
whimpers, then captures my tongue with hers and sucks on it. She rolls her tongue around mine,
sucking and licking, just as she would if she was giving me head. Fuck. I whimper. Fuck.
She hears me, and rolls me to my back.
"Your suit's ruined," she says as she straddles me. I pull her down. Fuck my suit, I want a kiss. I want
kisses. I want deep and wet kisses with tongue that I can feel down to my balls. I want her mouth on

mine as she rips through my shirt buttons and I work on my belt and zip so that I can yank my cock out
and she can sit on it and hump me with her pink pussy lips.
"Like that, like that." I squeeze her ass, guiding her movements as she rubs my penis between her legs.
I want slow, then fast, yeah. "Like that, baby."
I press her down on me, my hands on her ass, as I grind my crotch against her. Fuck, yeah. She moans
in agreement.
"Suck me," I say. "Suck me, please."
She looks down to where my cock is jutting out between her thighs, red and leaking with precum. She
scoots back and promptly takes me into her mouth. I smooth her hair to the back of her neck, holding it
away from her face so I can watch her. She takes me in, inch by inch, her fingers wrapped around the
base. She goes as far as she can, almost halfway, before the tip touches the back of her throat. She starts
to suck, drumming her fingers against the lower half of my shaft. I watch her tits sway and her ass
wriggle as she bobs her head up and down my cock. She pops me out, and licks me from the base to the
tip, before popping me in again while squeezing my balls. I jerk in her hands, sliding myself deeper
into her throat.
Fuck, yeah.
She rears up suddenly, and I whimper.
She laughs as she yanks away the bottom half of my thousand dollar suit and throws it behind her. I'd
kicked off my shoes at some point.
"Up," she says, and scoots away and falls kneeling beside the bed.
I stand and loom over her as she sits on her heels between my legs, licking the tip of my cock.
"You sure?" I ask her as she starts to take me into her mouth again. I'd told her before that she doesn't
need to suck my cock all the way as she already blows my mind. But she wants to, and I've long
decided that whatever Bella wants, she gets.
She laughs again because, yeah, like I'm not about to come in my socks just thinking about it.
I slide my cock halfway into her mouth without friction. I feel her relax and I slip in a little more,
waiting, bracing for that slight pressure from her hands against my thighs that would signal that she's
had enough. She doesn't make a move so I shift and slip in some more, groaning, until I'm buried
completely in her mouth. Slowly, as slowly as I'd pushed in, I pull out, and feel her lips, her teeth,
scrape against every ridge and crook of my cock.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck."
I feel her smile, and hum in appreciation, as she halts my progress with her hands and sucks me in
again. All the way. Half way. All the way again, and again. My hands tangle on her hair as I try to
control myself not to thrust into her mouth roughly. I hiss, groan my encouragement. Fuck, yeah, fuck,
fuck, baby, more, more, more, that's it, yeah, like that, just like that. She smiles and laughs at me as she
sucks, licks, pops me in and out, cups and squeezes until I'm on the verge of collapsing. Or pulling her
up and screwing her into the mattress instead.
I cum. Of course I do. Spectacularly. I cannot not cum in the hands and mouth of the best cocksucker in
the world. I fall on the bed before she can finish me off, my hands on my cock as I spew a bucketful of
load on myself and on the sheets.
She crawls beside me on the bed and kisses me, giving me tongue, as I jack myself off to semi-erection.

She laughs at the mess I made after I'm done. Then she bends and starts licking cum off my semi-erect
cock. She raises an eyebrow at me in challenge as she cleans my dick with her mouth.
I pull her up and flip her to her side, hoist her leg against my hip and ram myself into her from behind.
My cock stiffens as her pussy contracts in surprise.
I turn her head towards me to kiss her, keeping her leg hoisted up with an arm. I pound into her at once,
hard and fast, feeding the orgasm already building in my gut.
"C'mon," I urge her, as my cock swells bigger inside her, stretching her pussy walls. "C'mon, c'mon,
c'mon." I shift position, thrusting deeply and hitting something right as she opens her mouth in a silent
scream.
"Like that, huh?" I growl against her mouth as she starts to writhe and cry out, ah, ah, ah, ah, ahhhh, as
I hit her spot again.
"C'mon." I hoist her leg higher and put my hand on her pussy to help her along. "C'mon, baby, c'mon."
I thrust into her faster and faster, fingering her clit with one hand, squeezing her tits with another.
She screams as she breaks and I roll her on her back and pull myself to my knees, holding her legs
against my chest and bending down, thrusting deeply, deep into her pussy. My hands are on her
shoulders, holding her down as I pound into her in furious and fast strokes, hitting her G-spot again and
again. She strains against my hold, writhe against the pillows as she opens her mouth to scream and
beg...please, oh, please, oh, God, ahhhh, ahhh, ahhhh. Her pussy clench and unclench around my cock
as she thrashes under me. I feel my balls start to explode, and then it's coming, yeah, ah...
ah...ah...ah...yeah, baby, I'm cumming, I'm cumming. Fuck.
Fuck.
I drop to her side, taking her with me, my cock still throbbing inside her. We're both breathing hard,
almost gasping, but I tilt her head to kiss her anyway. .
"Okay?"
"Water," she rasps and I laugh, because I love it when I can make her scream in pleasure. I give her a
kiss and a lazy thrust before sliding out. Water, dinner, then the talk about the mysterious death of a
certain gangster. No point in keeping it from her. She'd probably worked out most of the details,
anyway.
She's sprawled on the bed when I get back, breathing evenly. Her hair is a spread out all over the
pillows in a nice tangled mess, her body slick with a thin sheen of sweat that makes me want to lick her
all over.
"Hey."
She rouses herself and I prop her against me so she can take the glass of water I got her. Her hand
brushes my crotch unintentionally and my dick stands in attention. She eyes my cock as she drinks up.
Maybe dinner can wait.
"I made dinner," she says.
Maybe not.
I put on boxers reluctantly, she puts on my ruined shirt.
"So," she says when we finish eating, having drifted from one innocuous topic to another over dinner,
"talk."

I don't feign ignorance. "Where do you want me to start?"

She goes to the living room and comes back with her Ipad.
She swipes the screen to show me a photo of crime scene of the hotel where Guzman was killed, with
Russian police casing evidence. Then a series of photos of what I assume is from the party the night
before.
I begin by identifying the players.
"And this?" She points to man in a suit. He's Mediterranean, and on his arm is Irina Deveyrenko.
"Deangelo Marcus, son of Senator Antonio Marcus, covert head of the "Ndrangheta. He lured your
cartel to Europe. He used to date Irina." I don't tell her the bastard's days are numbered, or that Irina's
doing the counting.
"Looks like they're friends again."
I don't answer. There are still some things she doesn't need to know. She props her hip on the table and
crosses her arms across her chest in a classic interrogator pose. I look her over, covertly leering. The
shirt she has on is torn with the front gaping, giving me a nice view of the top of her breasts.
Deliciously disheveled, wet between the legs and wearing no panties my fantasy bad cop.
"Did Marcus have Guzman killed?"
"No."
"Did you have Guzman killed?"
"No," I say. "I had him trapped. He's been skimming off cartel profits for years. I forwarded his boss a
few details of his indiscretion, and they took care of him."
"So you handed him over to Juarez."
"I merely provided him proof."
"Then you delivered Juarez to us on a silver platter with the laptop Guzman conveniently left lying
around the place."
"Again, I merely provided proof. Your team worked out the rest."
She gives me a pointed look. "Do you realize if word gets out that you had a hand at this, you're going
to be in every hit list of every drug cartel in South America?"
"And in Western Europe, maybe even Russia, yeah."
I don't mean to sound flippant, but by the look she's giving me, I probably do.
"One day,' she says quietly, "you are going to overplay your hand and you're going to get yourself rearrested for interfering with a Federal investigation or worse, killed."
I give her a smile. "Let's hope that doesn't happen."
She shakes her head. "I should tell Uley."
"But you're not going to," I say with absolute conviction.
"Maybe we can work something out to prevent anything from leaking."
It's my turn to shake my head. For months I'd planned and plotteddangled baits, set traps and closed
them. I'd channeled millions into non-existent deals and put up shadow organizations to create an
intricate playing field, pushing each player to the corner where I wanted them to fall. And fall they did,

but not before knowing the hand that pushed them.

"I don't need protecting," I tell her. "And you don't need to tell Uley anything. We've had this
conversation before, remember?" I ask her softly. "There is a way out of these sticky situations."
She stares at me in silence and I decide that its time we put everything on the table again. I get up to get
two set of papers I'd been carrying with me for days.
I spread them in front of her and put a pen beside them.
"Sign."
One is a prenuptial agreement, the other a special license. She picks up the first, skimming through the
pages, and ignores the latter. She sighs, then begins reading the document in earnest.
"You left the percentage on property distribution blank," she says after a few minutes.
"Put whatever percentage you're comfortable with."
She doesn't' say anything, just picks up the pen and keeps on reading.
"Fifty percent of all my assets? What assets?"
I give her a smirk. "I actually wanted a hundred percent but the lawyers said that's not allowed."
"This thing is ridiculous," she says, throwing down the prenuptial.
"You insisted on it," I tell her. "I didn't want one in the first place. Sign them, Bella." I push the papers
back at her. "Get it over with."
Put me out of my misery.
She sits back and looks at me intently. I can see her try to work out my motives in her mind.
"Is there something you want," she asks, putting down the pen slowly, "specifically?"
I've waited almost a year for her to ask me. I've had enough time to think about my answer.
"I want you to take my name," I start quietly, calmly. "I want you to get your papers in line. I want all
my rights and entitlements as your next-of-kin in emergency cases and your husband in all others. I
want communication and testimonial privileges against all threats and possible cases that can
potentially jeopardize you or your standing in the bureau."
"I want you to stay here, with me, in New York, as much as possible. If your job takes you somewhere
else, I want us to stay in a house of my choosing, unless you're in training or undercover."
"But no long undercover assignments," I add. "I don't think I can handle the separation."
"I want a fraction of your time every year, or every six months, depending on your schedule. I will not
object to you putting in long hours, but I'm taking you on your days off, holidays, weekends and all
your vacations."
I keep my tone even, reasonable. "I want no complaints when I set up our joint accounts, joint
ownership of all our assets and future trusts. I've started withdrawing all investments in my name, and
that of my companies, from all FBI-related contracts to avoid future conflicts. You don't need to know,
or be involved in anyway, with the companies, unless you want to. If I die, I want you to have
everything and by everything, I mean every single thing."
She shakes her head, but doesn't argue.
"And what do you get?"

"I get you," I tell her and fight the urge to fidget. I feel unusually nervous, but then I have never been
this serious in my life.
She stares at me for a long time, before picking up the pen and bending down to sign. I hold my breath,
listening to the pen scratch paper as she signs the rest of her life to me.
She stands up after she's done with the last page and goes to the fridge, takes out something from the
freezer.
"We should do this right," she says and puts a small, black box in front of me. Velvet. I look up at her in
surprise.
She shrugs. "You really didn't think I wouldn't notice your name popping up in the clerk registry for a
marriage application, did you? Especially if that application was processed with both parties absent and
issued within an hour. Harmless, yes, but still highly irregular. It's like beating a red light. You think
you can get away with it, and sometimes you can, but not always."
I've always known she kept tabs on me. I didn't know just how closely.
I swallow to clear my throat. "I was hoping you'd pay a little attention."
"And ruin the surprise?" she says with a soft snicker.
I open the box. There's a titanium ring inside it. Black. Plain. So light, it's practically weightless. I turn
it over with my fingers. There's a date is inscribed inside, and nothing else. I suck in a breath when I
recognize it. It's the day we met on the train.
I put the ring on my palm and study it with reverence.
"What do you think we should tell our grandchildren?" I muse out loud, remembering every second of
that day. Nobody but us knows about the encounter. Everybody thinks I took one look at her in Forks
and decided to corrupt her.
She gives me a smile. "Let's just tell them we met on a train..."
"...fell in love and ran away." I finish for her. "At least for a day." Love at first sight, drowned in an
uncontrollable urge to rut so powerful that I almost didn't recognize it.
"Works for me," she says with a laugh.
I put the ring on. It's cold against my skin. She did hide it in the freezer, of all places. I flex my hand
and stare at the ring glinting against my finger. It fits, perfectly.
"It's the truth," I say.
I look at her, the girl of my dreams and fantasies, my future wife. She's sitting back on her chair, arms
across her chest, head slightly tilted to one side. She looks calm, content...happy. She's waiting for me
to say something but for once, I'm tongue-tied. Overwhelmed. So I just sit, and stare at her across our
kitchen table, a piece of furniture that has seen regular action other than eating.
"We should celebrate," she says suddenly, standing up to open the fridge and pulling out a bottle of
champagne. "I bought this at the airport."
Dinner, ring, champagne. I've never felt so thoroughly outmaneuvered.
"I've a better idea."
She squeals as I pick her up, grabbing the champagne from her. She wraps her arms and legs around me
as I kiss her and we stumble around, groping for the nearest available surface. Her ass ends up against
the kitchen bar. It's a place as good as any for starters.

It's going to be a long, long night for her. Good thing she's already rested.
XOXO