1. First Drafts
Edward sat in the Volvo chewing on his pen, trying to think of a rhyme for cunt.
Grunt? Hunt? Aha! scent (well it was close enough). He surveyed his work:
Bella Oh Bella, you're so fine
With your beautiful cunt
And your breasts divine
You drive me mad with your lovely scent
And I have to make you mine all mine.
It certainly expressed his feelings, but he had hoped for something more romantic. For some reason, his attempts at verse kept veering sharply towards the physical. It was most annoying. He couldn't write that in a Valentine's Day card to Bella.
He sighed - back to the drawing board. Still, he would keep the poem - it would come in handy tonight when he was having some...personal time...with Bella in his bed. Well, not actually with Bella, that was the problem. With his fantasies of her, that is. He still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask her out, and was staking everything on the Valentine's Day card.
Edward had come to school early and was parked in a far corner of the parking lot, by the forest. Emmett had discovered a rejected draft in his waste basket and had made his life a misery at home this morning, prancing about chortling and reciting:
"Oh beautiful Bella with breasts so lush
Please let me stroke your furry bush!"
Not one of his best efforts perhaps, but you had to begin the creative process somewhere. Emmett was a philistine, he had no soul. Edward would have to buy a shredder to prevent any further...premature leakage.
He started over, frowning in concentration.
Oh my sweet girl with tresses dark
Lets take the Volvo and go park
Up a back road deep in the woods
He broke off, blocked. "Woods" was hard to rhyme as well. Goods? Moods? Perhaps trees would do?
Oh my sweet girl with tresses dark
Let's take the Volvo and go park
Up a back road deep in the trees
And there I'll gently part your knees
And come inside you as we fuck.
He moaned in despair and adjusted his crotch. No no no, this was impossible. He'd given himself a hard-on just writing poetry to her. She was simply so irresistible, and he was completely obsessed.
Edward reviewed his predicament. He considered himself an aesthete and well above the common herd. After all, he played the piano, appreciated art and opera and was very well read. He had never felt like this about anyone before, but the moment Bella arrived at the school he had been just as cunt-struck as all the other idiot males at Forks High.
Cunt-struck - there was a useful rhyme for fuck! Damn it, he had to pull himself together and write something to win her heart. Perhaps refreshing his acquaintance with the Romantic Poets might help? Or Shakespeare - there was a man who knew how to write about love. And Edward had no doubt that he was in love. Head over heels, desperately, stupidly in love. It was hell.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate."
See, Shakespeare could manage it without descending into the gutter, so why couldn't he? Once more unto the breach then. Unfortunate image that, he thrust it firmly aside.
Romance, he must focus on romance not smut. He would list a bunch of romantic phrases to inspire him.
Slender form careful
Soft white skin getting into the danger zone there as well
Lovely lips how he wanted to kiss them
He had to break off there, breathing hard at the thought of Bella's denim covered ass bouncing deliciously in front of him as they climbed the stairs at school yesterday. He had followed her as though on a leash all the way to her next class, ending up late for his own English lesson. So perhaps better to avoid mentioning her hips. Besides, girls were always supposed to be fretting about whether they looked big in jeans, so "rounded" might not be the best choice of words. Bella's ass was just perfect he thought happily, just the right size and shape to be cupped in his hands as he...No! He was writing a romantic poem, he must stick to the game plan.
He reviewed his strategy.
1. Write the perfect poem. Although right now, he'd settle for any poem without an "adult" rating.
2. Give Bella the poem in a Valentine's Day card. He had a tasteful card with him but the deadline had run out - it was Valentine's Day today. Things were desperate.
3. Be brave and put his name in the card. Scary, but he had to break the ice.
4. Impressed by his poetic talents and deeply romantic feelings for her, Bella would then be keen to chat with him, thus setting in train the happy fantasies which dominated his waking hours, not to mention his dreams. Best not to think about the dreams right now.
It was a sound plan. He just had to write the fucking poem. He gritted his teeth and tried again.
Oh Bella, mistress of my heart
Your chocolate eyes, your auburn hair
Are in my thoughts from dawn to dark almost a rhyme, it would have to do
I feel so much I do not dare
Approach you lest I fall apart
Or tell you quite how much I care. yes! he was on a roll now
He re-read the poem. Damn, that was good, he was a veritable Lord Byron. Now, if he could just manage one more verse without a smut intrusion. No, don't think about intrusions. Deep breaths. Onwards and upwards. Fuck, another unfortunate image. He screwed his eyes shut, repeating the "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" in his head. OK, back at it again. Jesus - where were these phrases coming from?
Desperately trying to think romantic thoughts, Edward gripped his pen.
I long to say just how I feel
To make my passion for you real
Was that too suggestive? Perhaps “feelings” was safer. But no, he already had “feel” in the first verse, and in the line above. It would have to be passion.
I long to hold you in my arms careful, careful, it was in danger of derailing again
To show you how your tender charms
Make my pulse race and my mouth dry a bit clinical? Living with Carlisle was rubbing off on him
So please be kind, don’t pass me by.
Sighing with relief, he considered his work. It was excellent overall, although he was still a little worried about the second verse being a tiny bit risque. No, it was fine, this was the 21st Century after all. He wasn't completely happy with the last two lines though. Tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, he scribbled alternatives down. After a few minutes he was satisfied.
Oh Bella, mistress of my heart
Your chocolate eyes, your auburn hair
Are in my thoughts from dawn to dark.
I feel so much I do not dare
Approach you lest I fall apart
Or tell you quite how much I care.
I long to say just how I feel
To make my passion for you real.
I long to hold you in my arms
To show you how your tender charms
Make my knees weak and my head spin
So please be kind, and be my friend.
Her "friend" was not at all what he wanted to be of course, but it was much less likely to scare her off. First they would be friends and have a meeting of minds, then a date, then... He sat in the Volvo, happily reprising several of his favourite fantasies.
A car broke his reverie, pulling to a sudden stop further down the parking lot. Jessica Stanley got out and looked at the Volvo curiously, then went inside. He noticed that there were several other vehicles in the lot now. Quick, she might be here soon, and he had to get in first before the entire male population of the school besieged her. He copied out the poem in the card, signing Edward Cullen with a flourish.
Then he sat and waited, terrified and excited.
Her familiar old truck rattled into the parking lot and pulled in several yards away. Now or never. Clutching the card in its cream envelope, he got out and tried to saunter casually across. Luckily her truck shielded them a little from curious eyes as the other students arrived and milled about. It was a cool grey day but not raining for a change.
She was clambering down from the cab now, missing her footing slightly as she reached the ground and lurched a little to one side.
Now, Edward! He nipped forward and steadied her elbow.
"Oops - here, let me help."
"Oh, thanks...Edward. I'm such a klutz."
Yes! She knew his name. Now or never. "No no, not at all...er, Bella...you know what day it is today?"
"February Fourteenth? Oh, that's..."
"Valentine's Day, yes..." He could feel his face coloring. This was excruciating. Just fucking do it. "I...er, I have a card for you." Blushing like a fool, he thrust it at her.
"Thank you, Edward, that's very sweet of you."
They stared at each other for an awkward moment. He was completely tongue-tied.
Finally Bella spoke. "...um...could you let go of my elbow Edward? I really have to get to class. I'll see you later I guess."
Feeling like a complete fool, he dropped her arm and watched her walk away, slipping the card into her book bag. She thought he was sweet. Was that good or bad? At least she knew his name.
Edward couldn't face going to his first class, his thoughts and emotions in chaos. He sat in the Volvo glaring ahead at the trees, feeling sick. God, he had been a fool. She obviously thought he was an idiot and would no doubt be showing his poem to Jessica fucking Stanley et al. He imagined them giggling over the lunch table, snorting at his artistic efforts. He would be a laughing stock. He would have to change schools. Except that there were no other schools in Forks. He banged his forehead on the steering wheel.
After a long time hunched miserably in the Volvo trying to decide on the least messy and painful way to commit suicide, Edward dragged himself out of the car. It was better to face her, the uncertainty was killing him. Perhaps he could steal the card back from her bag if she hadn't opened it? He would see her in Biology later that afternoon, and meanwhile he would avoid everyone and keep his head down. Especially fucking Emmett and the rest of his siblings. He would never hear the end of this.
Edward managed to steer clear of Bella and his family, taking off in his car at lunchtime and driving aimlessly around the back roads, thinking dark thoughts about how cruel the world was and how little a sensitive and artistic person like himself was appreciated. It was so unfair.
Finally it was time for Biology. Quaking inside, Edward slipped into his seat, not daring to look at Bella. He felt her turn and gaze at him, but he just stared away as though riveted by a poster on the wall about the food pyramid. Thank God, it was to be a movie today so he could hide in the dark - and maybe retrieve his card?
But it was harder than he had thought to sit quite close to her in the darkened room, filled with an agony of fear and hope, no idea how to sort out this utter disaster. After twenty minutes he managed to screw up his courage and leaned down, reaching for her bag.
Her warm hand intercepted his and clasped it, and he gave a small yelp of shock. What? No, this was good, this was a good sign. He drew in a shaky breath. Surely she wouldn't take his hand if she'd been scoffing at him all day with her friends?
Oh God, what was she doing now? She was tickling his palm with her fingers, sliding her hand against his in the dark and caressing it. Oh fuck, that was actually quite arousing. Did she like the poem then? His heart leapt and his cock quivered in sympathy. And then she brought his hand up to her face in the dark and turning towards him, slid his index finger into her mouth, sucking on it lasciviously. Sweet fucking Christ. His cock was painfully erect now, making him shift in the chair and adjust his clothing. Bella was kissing his palm now, swirling her tongue in it and sucking off his fingers and his thumb. Then she began kissing and nibbling gently up his wrist. Close to coming in his jeans, Edward bit back a moan and tried desperately to stay in control.
Oh thank God - she had let his hand fall now. Jesus, that had been close. But then he felt her hand on his groin, stroking and squeezing his swollen, exquisitely sensitive cock. He grabbed his jacket and lurched from the room, fleeing to his car.
What had just happened? Was he such a good poet that she wanted to ravish him the first chance she got? It was slightly frightening, actually - they seemed to have gotten to Step 4 in his strategy without passing Go or collecting $200. He was painfully hard and it was impossible to wait. Grabbing an old sweatshirt from the back seat he unzipped and beat off frantically, moaning helplessly as he exploded within seconds.
Panting, Edward leaned his forehead on the cool steering wheel. Oh fuck oh fuck. How could she do that to him with just her hand and her mouth? Did she realise why he'd left the room? She probably thought he was afraid of her. Which he was, a little. But he had to see her - he had to try to find out what was going on, and make sure it wasn't some cruel practical joke between her and that airhead Jessica.
He checked that his emergency decompression hadn't left any embarrassing traces and set his clothing to rights. School would be out soon. Edward got out and leaned against the Volvo, waiting.
2. The Poetry Reaction Test
Bella was one of the first to emerge, immediately looking towards his car then heading across the parking lot, barely stumbling at all. Edward thought she seemed relieved to see him, but who knew? His mouth was dry. He had to talk to her properly this time; this tongue-tied crap had to stop. At least she wasn’t with Jessica or that jerk Mike Newton.
“I need to explain.” She was shifting from foot to foot, hugging her bag. He saw that she was anxious, a flush coloring her throat and cheeks. It was enormously attractive.
“I’m sorry I reacted like that Bella. It was just a little…unexpected. I got taken by surprise.” Should he say he’d liked it? Perhaps that was a bit forward. But he was finding it hard to figure out which social niceties applied in this sort of situation.
She looked down, embarrassed. “I can imagine,” she said softly. “Being leapt on in Biology by someone you barely know.”
“Someone I’d like to get to know,” he said, equally softly.
“Can we talk?” She looked up at him. “Come to my place. Ch…my Dad won’t be home for a while yet. You can follow me in your car.”
Yes! Edward tried to seem a man of the world, as though he went home with girls every day of the week. “OK, I’ll see you there.”
Once at the house she led him through into the kitchen.
“Do you want a drink - a soda maybe?”
“No, I’m OK thanks.”
She bit her lower lip, considering. “Lets go upstairs to my room, I’ll feel easier talking about it there.”
Bella kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the end of the bed. Edward took the armchair in a nearby corner.
“So you read the card?” Like all artists, he was hoping for a good review.
“Yes - that was the thing - I mean, the poem.” She flushed again, thinking about it.
It hadn’t been that suggestive had it? Not compared to the other versions that he’d had to censor.
Bella swallowed. “This is kind of embarrassing. And weird.”
“I can do weird - try me.” He was curious now.
“Well, I love poetry and literature a lot, mostly the classics.”
Excellent, they had a lot in common already. A fellow aesthete.
“I always did have a…strongly positive…reaction to certain poems, but nothing like I had today Edward, honestly, I was as much taken by surprise as you were. It’s always been to poems that I could identify with, but of course they were never about me. Yours was the first poem anyone ever wrote for me and about me, and I think that was the difference.”
“So you did like it?” Still keen for a review, and not quite sure what she was on about.
“Like it…it was a lot more than that. I hadn’t had a chance to get some quiet time to read it until just before Biology, and when I did I got really turned on. Incredibly turned on. Then you came in, and the room was dark and I was so…aroused, and you reached for my hand. And…and I just couldn’t stop myself.”
No need to admit he was trying to steal the card back from her.
“So the poem turned you on?” He was secretly delighted but tried to sound alert and sympathetic, kind of like a counselor. “Do all poems do that?” Edward considered the idea of poetry as a sex aid. Interesting. He began to think which ones might work best - something modern and explicit, or the Romantics?
“No, other people’s poems don’t have that sort of intense effect. But your poem, because it was about me…and because you wrote it…” She looked down and blushed. “Well, all I can say is that I wasn’t in control of myself at all for a while there.”
Did that mean she liked him? He was suddenly happy.
“Maybe it was just a one-off thing - the circumstances, the dark room, something like that?”
We could give it another try. Oh please, let's give it another try…
“Maybe. I guess. Shall I read it again and see?”
“Well I do think we should test it out Bella - in the interests of science you know.” Smiling wryly to show her he was making an urbane joke. Inspiration struck. “But why don’t I read it to you instead? It is a Valentine’s Day card after all.” Trying to be just a little seductive, looking at her from under his lashes. This was excellent, it was all going far better than he’d ever imagined.
“Well, OK.” She rummaged in her bag and handed him the card, then sat herself back down at the end of the bed again, facing him.
“Right, here goes. Poetry Reaction Test no. 1. Just tell me if you’re having a weird response, and I’ll stop - OK?” He smiled reassuringly at her then looked down at the card and started to read, trying to inject the appropriate amount of heartfelt passion into it as he declaimed.
“Oh Bella, mistress of my heart
Your chocolate eyes, your auburn hair
Are in my thoughts from dawn to dark.
I feel so much I do not dare
Approach you lest I fall apart
Or tell you quite how much I care.”
As before, Edward got quite caught up in the reading, congratulating himself again on his way with words. There was no doubt: he was a creative genius. He remembered to look up and check on Bella’s reaction. Jesus, his poetry really did turn her on. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were dark. She was flushed, breathing quickly and squirming interestingly, almost as if she were…fucking the bedspread. God, he was getting hot himself, just watching her.
“Um…are you OK Bella? Should I stop?”
Her voice was rough, a little ragged. “Don’t stop…Edward…don’t stop…please…more…”
Wow, this was amazing. He felt his cock stiffen. He licked his lips and she put her head back and gasped. Shit. He glanced at the next two lines then said them from memory, drawing them out a bit, watching her to see what happened.
“I long to say just how I feel
To make my passion for you real.”
Bella moaned hoarsely. Oh Christ, she had started to touch her breasts and was squeezing them through her blouse, rubbing her fingers across her nipples and staring at him as though she were a tiger and he were a tasty chunk of meat. Her hips were making small thrusting movements as she kneeled on the bed. He had never seen anything so hot, never even imagined anything could be so hot. In a shaky voice he continued, having some difficulty forming the words.
“I long to hold you in my arms
To show you how your tender charms
Make my knees weak and my head spin
He got no further. Bella was on him, knocking the card to the floor, kissing him furiously and forcing his lips apart. His mouth opened helplessly as her tongue invaded him. She was in his lap, between his knees, her hands frantic on his body. Pulling his shirt out of his jeans she ripped it apart, buttons pinging off left and right. She ran her hands across his chest, pinching his nipples - unnngh - then grappling with his jeans. Before he could stop her (and he was well past the point now where that thought could even be entertained) she had the zipper down and his swollen cock was in her hands and in her mouth. Some kind of pressure valve blew out in the back of his skull and his hips arched forward, thrusting into her as she sucked him. Oh this was wrong, they shouldn’t, it was too much, it was too good, he was melting, he was going to…to…oh…in her mouth, oh he was, oh!…oh Fuck!…Ohhh! He was making incoherent noises now, his hands fisting her hair as she sucked him, and then the pleasure exploded in his groin and he came into her mouth, crying out wildly.
He pulled her up and held her to him, panting, heart racing. But there was no respite. Bella was completely out of control now, rubbing herself against him, grabbing at him, kissing and sucking his neck, his nipples, licking his chest. He lifted her and fell with her onto the bed, undoing her jeans and pulling them off roughly with her wet panties as she writhed under his hands, clutching at him, moaning. He felt like a bomb defuser - he had to make her come immediately or Christ knew what would happen. He was afraid she would spontaneously combust, taking him and the whole fucking bedroom with her. Her father would arrive home to find the entire front of the house blown out, a smoking ruin. He could see the headlines now: “Terrorist Attack in Forks!”
Her hands were constantly reaching for his cock but he was still too sensitive. He restrained her on the bed and kept his terrified member out of her frantic grasp. He pulled her hips to the edge of the bed but in doing so had to let go of her arms and she was at him again, grabbing his head and pulling him down so that he collapsed onto her, then kissing him so hard she bit his lip, making it bleed. He sobbed with pain and excitement, holding her body to the bed with his torso and pinning her wrists with his hands to the mattress on either side to keep her from attacking him again. He pushed back to kneel at the foot of the bed, wriggling himself in between her thighs. Bella seemed to realise what he was doing now and spread her legs wide, moaning hoarsely suck me Edward please suck me please Edward please and thrusting herself up at him.
And oh God her cunt, her cunt! She was so wet and hot, and she smelled incredible. He buried his face in her, groaning. Bella whimpered loudly and thrashed about, his hands still trapping her arms. He found her swollen clit and sucked it, then slid his tongue into her, then back to her clit in a frenzy of alternate tongueing and sucking, rubbing his face into her ecstatically. Fuck, she tasted wonderful. She arched up then, screaming his name, and came convulsively, and he nuzzled her until the tremors ceased, still holding her to the bed, then pressed his face into her soft belly, gasping.
Finally it seemed safe to release her and they clung together, breathing rapidly. He was hard again but he felt shell-shocked by what had happened and he was beginning to remember that he had no condoms, and her father would be home soon, and her father was the fucking Police Chief, and…oh shit.
Although his brain had started functioning again it was all over the place, bouncing from thought to thought like a pinball machine. That was the best sex he had ever had. Of course it was the first actual sex that he’d had with anyone other than himself, so that was bound to make it special. But with Bella almost raping him, it had been incredible. But it was way too much. Things had gone so fast, completely out of control. He found himself worrying that she might not like him any more. Shit - who knew if she had liked him before? They didn’t even know each other and they’d just had frenzied sex. Well, of course he was in love with her but that was different, and made it worse. Here was this girl he loved and wanted to worship and they’d gone at it like animals. Now what? The chaste chats and tentative first dates he’d been anticipating seemed to have been comprehensively blown out of the water.
He had to make this right somehow. He had to see her again, he couldn’t bear it if she avoided him, ashamed of what they’d done. He stood and did up his jeans, wiping his face on his ruined shirt. He wouldn’t be washing that shirt for quite a while. Then he sat on the side of the bed beside her and drew her into his lap and his arms, although it was so hard not to hold and stroke her mound with her body completely naked below the blue blouse. He pulled the bedspread up around her to reduce the temptation. Bella was looking dazed, clinging on to him.
“I’m so sorry, Bella, I had no idea the poem would have that powerful an effect on you. I got completely carried away too.” He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.
“It was much more intense with you reading it to me.” Her voice was weak.
“I guess that makes sense.” So a slight reaction to impersonal poetry, a moderate one if she read one of his poems about her to herself, and an intense one if he read a poem about her directly to her. It was almost like different doses of a drug, like his poetry was heroin to her. He shivered suddenly, imagining himself catching her unawares and whispering a line or two in her ear as he kissed her neck. Fuck, he was rock hard again at the thought. No, no, it was tempting but so wrong, he must not, he was a monster even to think it.
He took a shaky breath. “Bella, we need to be careful with this. I really like you and I want to see you again and get to know you…um…properly. I think we need to steer clear of this …this poetry thing… until we work out how to handle it better.” He was anxious - would she want to see him again?
Bella reached up and kissed him softly. “I like you too Edward…very much indeed. I think that’s why the…why I get this reaction so strongly.”
His heart swelled and he hugged her to him, kissing her as hard as his cut lip could stand. Boy that stung, he would have to put some cream on it. Were there worrying germs in…? Oh for fuck’s sake shut up.
“Can I see you again then? Maybe tomorrow after school you could come over to my place?”
“I’d like that Edward. But we don’t have to cool it completely do we? As long as we avoid the…p-word…we can still do this?” Kissing him again, and licking his wounded lip, sucking on it gently. It stung a little, but it felt wonderful. And saliva was good to clean things, animals were always licking themselves weren’t they?
“Yes, we can still do this. I don’t think I could stop myself from…doing this…with you. Just lets keep it within normal parameters a bit more.” He kissed her hair again. “And I should go now, or else I’ll run into your father and I don’t think I could face him today...after…”
“Think he might arrest you?” She grinned up at him.
“Riddle me with bullets, more likely.”
He extricated himself and she pulled her jeans back on, giving him a fine view of her bare ass in the process, as she bent over. Oh Jesus, that would keep him hard for days.
He tucked in his ruined shirt and hid it with his jacket. Bending, he retrieved the card from beside her armchair. “I think I’d better take this for now, Bella - it’s a bit risky leaving it here in case you get tempted.”
She looked disappointed for a moment, but gave way and agreed.
They hugged at the door, Edward scanning anxiously around for Chief Swan, but the coast was clear.
“I’ll see you at school. Remember - no Keats or Byron - stay pure for me.” Grinning, kissing her nose.
“You’re my bard now, Edward.” She was smiling, her eyes soft.
He dragged himself away, her words singing in him as he drove home, barely seeing the road.
Edward lay in bed trying to decide which memory to use for a last reprise of the day’s tumultuous events before going to sleep. Her mouth on his cock? The taste of her cunt? Her naked ass bent over in front of him? He was spoilt for choice. So much material now for erotic poetry - no, he must not think like that.
He did want to continue writing verse though, having discovered his considerable talents in that direction. He would just have to keep the poems from her. A pity he could not show her poetry that was meant for her, but of course she was not a proper critic, with her special reaction to his work. She would probably come if he recited the worst doggerel imaginable, as long as he was staring into her eyes as he did so. She was not able to be objective about it. Which was a bit frustrating actually, as he was excited by his poetic ability now and he wanted her to admire him for his talent, not just as a...as a sex object. Hmmm, that was kind of a weird thought.
In retrospect, thinking about it all, Edward absolved himself of wrongdoing. Neither of them had been prepared for her reaction - how could they be? She was clearly…highly unusual in that respect. But it was like a disability he thought, feeling a little guilty again. Or an addiction, as though she’d been drunk and he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability. Although as she had essentially raped him, the moral issues were, to say the least, filled with complexity and confusion.
But tomorrow would be different, now that they had agreed to avoid the …poetry problem. Tomorrow they would have it under control.
3. A Little More Restraint Please
Edward woke after a sound sleep, for once not filled with the vivid dreams that had led to many a sticky awakening. No doubt the previous day's events had been explicit enough to last him for a while. Plus the fact that he'd beaten off three times in rapid succession after getting home, urged on by memories of Bella's head busily sucking between his legs, or images of her lovely pale ass bent over enticingly before him as he thrust himself into her repeatedly and fondled her soft breasts while she...
After another romp with his favourites he got up and took a shower. He peered at himself in the mirror. He looked a little battered, the cut lip bruised and swollen. Edward realised that he probably wasn't a virgin any more - or did you actually have to penetrate a girl to lose your virginity? He made a mental note to google it and check.
Esme tsked over his cut lip at breakfast and he had to concoct a story about tripping on the school steps and biting himself accidentally. She was kind enough to accept that, but his siblings eyed him with curiosity and disbelief. Rosalie snorted rudely into her diet cereal.
Emmett hadn't finished with him. The brothers were in the garage waiting for Alice and Rosalie to finish blow-waving their hair, and in Alice's case filling it with product. Emmett leaned back against the Volvo, grinning evilly.
"Like the trashed look bro - very hot. She's a wild one then? Is she a screamer?"
"Fuck off Emmett - and don't talk about Bella like that." Edward flushed. How dare Emmett sully his angel, his princess. Emmett knew nothing about true love or great art; his head was in the mud while Edward's soared in the stratosphere. When it wasn't worshipping his Bella that is. A memory of his head moving frantically between her parted thighs suddenly surfaced and he started to get hard again. Shit. He paced angrily around to the driver's door and got in.
Jasper slid into the passenger seat. "Leave him alone Emmett." He gave Edward a sidelong glance, smirking and slipping a handful of condoms into Edward's jacket pocket. "Better safe than sorry brother mine, if you're writing those sort of poems to her."
"Thanks Jasper - yeah, we're being careful." To avoid the poetry effect, anyway. He had every intention of kissing and touching her again today after school.
He caught Bella in the parking lot before they went into class and kissed her gently but thoroughly, careful of his lip. School was hard to focus on, filled with thoughts of seeing her at lunch and having her to himself in his room at the end of the day.
He was already very familiar with the set text for English and his seat was down the back away from prying eyes, so he occupied himself writing another poem instead. Not to read to her of course, just to practice his poetic talents. Perhaps a sonnet, following Shakespeare's great tradition? Trying to write something that structured would be a useful challenge. Iambic pentameter: de-dum de-dum de-dum de-dum de-dum, yes, that was it.
Oh Bella, when I see your lovely face
How did the rhyming go? He looked up his poetry text and checked one of the sonnets.
ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. Right.
Oh Bella, when I see your lovely face so hot, the memory of her responding to his poem
Before me as you get so hot and wet oops, not quite in the tradition of Shakespeare - try again
Before me as you kneel between my legs no no no, it was a sonnet for fuck's sake
Before me as I tongue your glorious cunt oh fuck, too hot, hard again, want you Bella
He groaned softly. Too hard, everything was too hard. Giving in to the inevitable, Edward let the heat in his groin take over.
Oh Bella when I see you on your knees
Before me as you suck my swollen cock
You fill me with such pleasure as you tease
My aching shaft, making me hard as rock.
Sweet Jesus, he was close to coming in class just from writing poetry about Bella sucking him off. He flicked through the poetry text desperately. The "Ancient Mariner" wouldn't be nearly enough this time - wait, a really bad McGonagall poem might do it.
Oh, mighty city of New York, you are wonderful to behold--
Your buildings are magnificent-- the truth be it told--
They were the only thing that seemed to arrest my eye
Because many of them are thirteen storeys high
And as for Central Park, it is lovely to be seen--
Especially in the summer season when its shrubberies are green
And the Burns Statue is there to be seen
Surrounded by trees on the beautiful sward so green
Also Shakespeare and the immortal Sir Walter Scott
Which by Scotchmen and Englishmen will never be forgot.
It took several verses of "Jottings of New York" before he had himself under control again. Poetry was having almost as strong an effect on him as it did on Bella - mostly as he couldn't help but imagine her reaction to it.
They would be lying on his bed kissing chastely, then he would roll on top of her, holding her arms down at each side of her head (just in case she went berserk again), and he would trap her gaze and recite the sonnet in a passionate whisper. He smothered a moan, his cock straining painfully again at the thought of her response. He would need an emergency washroom stop after class so as to beat off and survive the day. Better to leave finishing the poem until much later when he was home and in less restrictive clothing.
After an urgent tryst with himself (and Bella's perfect ass) in a toilet stall, he sat with her at a table in the lunchroom, trying not to stare too obviously at her chest. They compared notes about their classes and chatted about favourite books and bands. His eyes kept being drawn to her breasts which were nicely outlined by a fitted white blouse. That part of her anatomy hadn't really featured yesterday, in the heat of the moment. He was going to have to put that omission right, and soon.
The afternoon dragged and there was no Biology to give him more time with her, so Edward was waiting eagerly by her truck at the end of the day, having told Jasper to take the Volvo. He pressed Bella against the battered metal and kissed her at some length, hard again just from the taste of her mouth and the feel of her in his arms.
Bella drove them, Edward sneaking his hand onto her thigh and brushing his thumb lightly across the groin of her jeans, teasing her until she moved against him. He knew this was not at all in line with the "cooling it" agreement, but he was so hot for her he couldn't help himself. Then at a stop light she reached over and gripped the swollen bulge between his legs, squeezing and rubbing him, and his eyes rolled up in his head as he pressed into her hand. By the time they got home he was in a daze of lust, hustling her up the stairs, thankful that the rest of the family weren't hanging about in the hall to delay them with social chit-chat or teasing.
They fell on each other after he'd locked the door to his room, his lip forgotten as he crushed her to him, their tongues frantic, writhing against each other. He pulled back to kick his shoes off and she unzipped her short boots and discarded them. Wrenching off his jacket then Bella's, Edward walked her backwards to his bed and laid her down, kissing her neck, the hollow under her ear, nuzzling her collar bone as he undid the buttons on her blouse.
And oh, her breasts in the white lacy bra. He stroked them tenderly, pressing them together and kissing her cleavage.
More, need more.
He sat her up and slid the blouse off then reached behind her to unfasten the bra, struggling with the unfamiliar hooks, panting in frustration.
She stopped him, holding his arms. "Let me do it Edward, you'll break a finger and we can't have that...I want those fingers of yours intact..." Grinning at him under her lashes.
God he loved her. He sat back on his knees and she arched her spine, making her exciting breasts stand out as he trailed his fingers across them, unable to stop touching. She reached back and unhooked the clasp effortlessly. Girls were so clever. He pulled the bra away and was immediately riveted by her round, soft breasts, the peaks flushed darker, swelling under his hands as he caressed them, nipples hardening. He slid forward urgently, pressing her to the covers, taking her nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking, completely absorbed by her taste, the softness, her helpless moans underneath him that made him burn and throb.
He undid her jeans and pulled them off. Her panties were white lace as well, and he spread her legs and wriggled between them, pressing his face up into her hot center, the lacy crotch wet and heavy with her musky scent. He pressed his tongue hard against the lace, rubbing it across her clit as she thrashed, groaning. Then licking and kissing her inner thighs.
Pulling off the panties, spreading her folds and oh God yes lapping at her again, so hot and rich, her taste, her scent. Gripping her hips he pulled her hard against his mouth, fucking her with his tongue, feeling her lose it, hearing the incoherent noises she made as she thrust against his mouth.
More. In her, now.
He fell off the bed, fumbling his jeans undone and pushing them and his boxers down, stumbling free and pulling off his shirt. Just barely enough reason left to remember Jasper's gift, ripping a condom from the foil and rolling it onto his stiff cock. Back on her again, pushing her legs apart with his hands, sliding his fingers into her, the wetness and heat as she moved on his fingers.
Yes, fuck yes, inside her now, More.
He took his cock and pushed it into her, panting harshly, then raised up on his elbows, watching her face. She grimaced and he felt something give way, then he was moving deep inside her, watching her head fall back, her face lovely as she gave herself over to sensation. His mouth was on her breasts again, sucking them and pulling on her nipples with his lips while she moaned and moved with him, both of them lost in the feelings now as he thrust urgently.
Yes, there, deeper, harder, more, more, More!
Fucking her desperately as he gripped her tightly, his face in her neck, in her hair, grunting helplessly, all pumping cock, all pleasure, Bella spasming around him as the world exploded.
He peered at himself in the bathroom mirror after disposing of the condom, splashing cold water on his flushed face. Shit shit shit. He had meant to cool it, to get to know her, not fuck her brains out. God that had been wonderful though, and she made him so hot, he kept losing control. But it was not right. They had to do more than just go at it like crazed beasts. Didn't they? It didn't seem a very solid basis for a relationship although admittedly it was working extremely well right now.
But there was no way it would do in the long term. Imagine in some future life when they were grown up and had real jobs, waking up hard every morning beside her - he'd be inside her in a heartbeat, he'd never get to work at all. And what about coming home after work? Two steps inside the door and he'd have her bent over the sofa, impaled on his cock, no matter who was visiting. Hi Chief Swan, I'll just fuck your daughter like an animal then we can watch the game. He shuddered. Not a pretty thought.
Edward sighed and returned to Bella who was sprawled on his bed looking relaxed and incredibly tempting. No! Talking, not fucking! He slid onto the covers and took her in his arms, kissing her gently.
"I love you Bella. I know that sounds like my cock talking, but I really do. Ever since you arrived, I've watched you and fallen more and more in love. I'm sorry I keep losing it and going too far. Are you OK? Did I hurt you badly?" Guilt filled him as he remembered her grimace.
"Edward." she kissed him back. "I love you too. I'm fine. It only hurt a little and I hardly noticed it, I wanted you in me so badly. I'm not helping am I, with the self-control? I want you too much as well."
He smiled ruefully. "Even without the poems, we're all over each other. But it's partly because of the poetry again I guess. I couldn't resist writing a poem to you in English today, and it got me so hot thinking about how you might react that I was excited all day and then I just went at you after school...and here we are again."
"So you wrote another poem." Her voice was casual. "What sort?"
"The dangerous sort - not that any of them are safe with you." Kissing her, teasing. "The start of a sonnet, actually. But old W.S. would turn in his grave - it was very naughty indeed. I tried, I really did try to write a romantic one but it kept turning...hot on me. I didn't get past the first stanza, and even that almost made me embarrass myself in class." He sighed.
Shutting her eyes, she whispered. "I'd like to hear it - the sonnet."
He traced her lips with his fingers and she kissed them softly. "I don't think so Bella - it's very...explicit...and you know what would happen." His cock stiffened against her belly at the thought.
Still with her eyes shut, she took his finger into her mouth and sucked it. Shudders ran through him, as they had in Biology. Jesus, why did that turn him on so much?
"No Bella, you know you mustn't. I won't let you. Just say no!" Trying to talk her out of it, when his cock was hard against her, throbbing.
She pressed him back and slid onto him now, stroking his chest, playing with his nipples. His head fell back and he sighed. God that felt fantastic. Then she bit his nipple softly and he sobbed, feeling her hair silky against him, her lips on his skin. Her hand slid down the trail of dark hair at his groin and then onto his cock. Ohhhh, she was stroking him, and he pushed up into her hand, groaning.
"Bella, what are you doing to me, Oh God Bella..."
"Just one line Edward," she whispered. "Just one little line for your Bella...please baby, please!" Soft, wheedling, insistent as she touched him.
Shit, she sounded like a coke addict, but he had to resist her, to stop her from giving way, to stop himself giving way. Fuck this was confusing - who was the addict, who was the drug here? And his mind was going, melting in the sensation of her hand on his cock, her mouth on his skin.
In a last desperate attempt at sanity he pulled away from her and covered his cock with his hands. "No Bella, no. We talked about this. No poetry. Poetry's bad." It was like arguing with a two year old.
She got up on her hands and knees, glaring at him, furious. Hot, so hot when she was angry, her breasts swaying through her long brown hair as she crawled towards him. He was panting with lust but he scooted back on the king-sized bed, holding his genitals. Christ knew what she was capable of in this mood, he was taking no chances.
"I want it! You wrote it for me and I want to hear it Edward. Don't be a tease - give it to me now!"
"No Bella. Not this poem - it's too strong. You'd OD on it - you'd attack me, you'd destroy the room. My family would call the police, and you know what that means..." Raped by Bella and then shot by her enraged father. Way to go, Edward.
She collapsed onto the bed, curled up with her arms wrapped around her stomach as though she were in pain.
"Bella? Please don't do that baby, I love you." Reaching for her but she rolled away, her shoulders shaking. What? Was she crying? He had hurt her. God, he was a complete bastard.
"Bella love, oh please, please don't cry, here, let me hold you."
He spooned behind her, embracing her and stroking her arms and her stomach, rocking her, planting kisses on her shoulder.
"I need your poem Edward, I need it so bad," she moaned helplessly, tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes. "Tie me down, tie me to the bed. Anything so I can hear it."
Fucking hell, that was a thought. Would it work? He had a solid oak frame bed, raised up on sturdy legs. It would be possible to tie something around them. But what? Something soft, not to hurt her wrists and ankles. Jesus what was he thinking, no, this was so wrong, they mustn't do it - where would it end?
Then she turned to face him and took him into her arms, kissing and caressing him, her hand sliding down hot between them again, stroking his balls and taking his cock.
"Please Edward, tie me to the bed and give me poetry, oh please..."
He used old T-shirts in the end, knotting two together where needed so they stretched to the corners and looped around the bed's thick legs. Not his best ones of course, not the Hives or BRMC ones. She lay there, spread-eagled, her hair fanned out behind her on the pillow, eyes bright.
He found the piece of paper with the poem where he'd hidden it in his English text and read it again, memorising it. This was a very stupid idea, he knew, but he was going to do what she wanted; he couldn't refuse her any longer. And he wanted it too. Returning to the bed, he knelt over her, stroking her face.
"Are you sure, Bella?"
She nodded vehemently, her mouth open, breathing rapidly. "Sure. Please Edward."
"I'll have to put my hand over your mouth if you're too loud."
"Yes, fine, Please Edward, the poem..." Almost groaning, pleading with him.
"It's just four lines, the start of a sonnet, iambic pentameter..."
"Yes yes whatever just fucking give it to me!"
Christ on a bike.
But he wanted her so much. He positioned himself between her legs, his cock sheathed in another of Jasper's condoms, the head of his cock almost inside her, pressing against her heat and wetness, ready. So tempting to slide himself into her, but he must stay coherent to say the poem. Edward leaned on one elbow, his other hand stroking her face, tracing her lips. She watched him avidly, their eyes locked.
"Oh Bella when I see you on your knees"
Her eyes closed briefly and she arched back, moaning, rubbing her clit against him. He bit back a groan.
"Before me as you suck my swollen cock"
She thrashed against the restraints, writhing against him, sucking him into her a little. So good, so hot. He forced himself to continue, breathing raggedly.
"You fill me with such pleasure as you tease"
She cried out and he covered her mouth with his hand. He was panting now, the next line a fierce harsh whisper, his hand pressed across her mouth, their eyes hot on each other, only inches apart.
"My aching shaft, making me hard as rock."
Oh Fuck Yes!
She bucked her hips hard and he was deep inside her, thrusting as she tightened around him, sucking him in, her cries muffled under his hand then under his mouth as he kissed her furiously, impossibly excited. She milked him with her cunt, making him hammer himself roughly into her, all control gone.
In In In In In - rutting her, taking her, aware only of his cock thrusting, their bodies making wet sounds, their mouths incoherent grunts.
Until she shuddered, quivering all over, clenching in waves around his cock and then falling back, limp. He groaned helplessly, pumping into her, then arched back in a silent scream as the pleasure erased him.
Edward untied the restraints, moving slowly, feeling dazed. It wasn't easy as she'd pulled them into tight knots in her struggles. He had to use his teeth. Bella's wrists and ankles were chafed and looked a little bruised and he kissed her wrists, folding them to his chest as he held her close.
No more. They couldn't keep doing this, it was too dangerous, too weird. He stroked her hair, remembering how she'd begged and manipulated him. Not that he'd tried that hard to refuse her. Was there a 12-step program for poetry addiction? Or for Bella addiction for that matter. He didn't trust himself around her any more, and she obviously couldn't control it. He would have to be the strong one.
He felt desolate, hollowed out. It was going to be hell ignoring her with both of them still in Forks, still in the same school, the same class. But he had to.
"Bella." His voice was rough with emotion. "We can't, I can't...this has to stop. It's gone too far."
She peered up at him. "I'm sorry Edward, I won't do it again. I'll give it up, I promise I will. No more poetry. I'm on the wagon."
"You say that now, but you won't be able to stick to it if we're seeing each other. I won't be able to resist, you'll get round me somehow. We need to take a break, not see each other for a while."
"No!" She was crying now and his heart was breaking, his own eyes blurring as he held her.
But he had to give her up. It was the only way.
4. Desperate Measures
There were no two ways about it, he was fucked.
Within two weeks of telling Bella that they couldn’t see each other any more, Edward knew that he had made a terrible mistake. It had been ghastly from the very start, with Bella too distraught to drive herself home so that he’d been forced to enlist Alice’s aid. Alice drove Bella’s truck while Edward followed in the Volvo feeling like a complete monster to have hurt Bella so badly. But he was at a loss as to what else to do.
Chief Swan’s police cruiser was parked at Bella’s home and he was too much of a coward to hang about and risk getting arrested or shot so he circled the block intermittently, heart in mouth, until Alice emerged looking like thunder and got in, slamming the door with unnecessary force.
“You bastard Edward, you’ve really done a number on that poor girl.”
“Alice, it’s complicated. There are things you don’t know. I had to break it off with Bella - we weren’t good for each other. Honestly, it was for her own good.”
“Even though you’re my brother, Edward, you can be a self-righteous prick sometimes. Men.”
“Her father was there…?”
“He’s furious with you. Especially as he had no idea you and Bella were even seeing each other. And I think he suspects you were doing more than just “seeing” each other…”
“Oh, Bella’s not saying anything but it’s obvious to me that you’ve been fucking like rabbits. You didn’t exactly keep the decibel level down at home today you know.”
Edward blushed crimson. “Sorry…it was a bit of a whirlwind, we got carried away…”
“Then why this crap Edward? Why screw her then dump her? I wouldn’t have pegged you for that sort of douchebag.”
“I can’t explain, it’s too... you just wouldn’t understand Alice. I don’t really understand it myself. I just…we just…we couldn’t go on like that, it was…too much.” He trailed off miserably.
“So what - you get some feelings for her and that terrifies you so much you have to dump her? Jesus Edward, sort your fucking shit out.”
And ever since then Alice had given him the silent treatment.
Was she right, Edward wondered, desperately chewing over the whole mess yet again as he lay in bed that night. He seemed unable to think about anything except Bella and the way their relationship had become too intense too quickly, and far too out of control. But was he pulling back from her because he was afraid to get close to anyone at all? Or was breaking it off really the only option to get some control back and avoid feeding her poetry addiction? His head hurt and he almost wanted just to switch it all off and return to his safe, ordered pre-Bella existence. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. He couldn’t focus on his usual interests with the Edward-and-Bella saga completely preoccupying his every waking moment. He was too restless and hyped up to read or to play music, and school was going to be a complete nightmare.
In fact it was worse than he had envisaged.
He was exhausted, having snatched only an hour or two of restless sleep as dawn was breaking. He’d gotten so desperate, tossing and turning through the night, that he’d resorted to beating off again, trying to wear himself out. But it only seemed to make him more confused. He tried to imagine fucking someone else, not Bella, as he touched himself. Previously he’d been quite taken by Avril Lavigne so he tried to picture himself sucking Avril’s breasts as she rode him, moaning his name lasciviously, but whenever he looked up from her nipples Avril’s face morphed into Bella’s, and as he came, he sobbed out Bella’s name. The second time he rolled out the big guns, picturing Brett Anderson lead vocalist of The Donnas between his knees, her head bobbing as she deep-throated him. But as he reached down and twined his hands in her hair, the eyes that looked up at him over his cock were Bella’s chocolate ones again. He gave up after that and just wallowed helplessly in Bella memories.
Pale and with bruised violet shadows underneath his eyes, he skulked around school avoiding Bella and her friends, and his own family. His brothers were baffled by his sudden change of heart towards Bella, Alice obviously having given them her version, and while not as judgemental as Alice they clearly thought he was an idiot. Rosalie was her usual bitchy self, so no change there.
He couldn’t avoid catching glimpses of Bella though and she seemed almost dazed, staring silently at her uneaten food as she sat with her friends at a lunch table across the room from where he sat with his siblings, trying not to steal glances at her.
And then there was Biology. Before class started she turned to look at him, and whispered “Edward?...please?” in a strained voice.
His heart clenched and he had to bite his cheek and focus on the pain to avoid answering her. He sat with his arms folded tightly across his chest, refusing to look at her as Mr Banner droned on about the Krebs cycle or some such shit. Her long brown hair was loose and it hung as a curtain between them, some protection for her perhaps, but he was wracked by the urge to brush it gently back and kiss the hollow underneath her ear. Edward clenched his teeth and held himself in rigid control, then bolted from the room as soon as class ended, running to the Volvo to hide.
It got no better across the next few days even though she didn’t try to speak to him again and seemed to be avoiding him as well. But she filled his thoughts and dreams no matter how hard he tried to ignore her during the day and to call up other sirens to fill his fantasies at night. Nothing worked.
Subversive thoughts began to creep in by the weekend - thoughts about how he could somehow still manage to be with her without it getting out of control again.
The dosage effect was worth exploring. Other peoples’ poems affected her only slightly, but when she read his poetry to herself it turned her on much more strongly. And when he read her his poems she completely lost it. Hmmm. Perhaps if he read her other peoples’ poems it might be manageable and still give her the fix she seemed to need? He would have to stop writing poems so that there was no risk of her being tempted. It was a huge sacrifice for an artist to make, but necessary at present until they somehow learned to manage the poetry problem. Maybe he could wean her off the addiction using other people’s poems? Desensitise her, so that his poems no longer had the same effect? It was a small ray of hope and definitely worth a try.
But he needed a back-up plan in case her reaction was still unmanageable. His T-shirt collection had taken a beating and it was clearly an amateurish approach to restraint. Edward fired up his laptop and began to search. Some of the sites were a real eye-opener. Jesus, did people really wear these weird outfits - leather hoods completely covering their heads looking like something out of Silence of the Lambs, or those rubber suits with the ass cut out for spanking? And then there were penis prisons made of black latex. They were far too disturbing and he flicked to another site. He pored over images of full-body leather dominatrix suits and imagined Bella spanking him while wearing one. God that was hot, and he so deserved to be punished, he’d behaved like an absolute shit to her. His hand slid down inside his boxers to extract his cock as he closed his eyes and imagined Bella in black leather forcing him down on his hands and knees, naked and humiliated as she whipped his ass with a riding crop. It took a while to clean all the spunk off the underside of his computer desk after that one. Amazing how far the damn stuff could fly when he was really getting carried away.
After another few research sessions, always culminating in an explosive finale with images of Bella telling him what a bad boy he’d been and making him lick her boots and other parts of her body, he finally decided what to purchase. Nothing too over the top, but a package called “Our First Bondage Kit” seemed adequate. Four soft velcro cuffs with long straps attached, and a blindfold. Not that they needed the blindfold really, but it came included. And it might be interesting to try it some time…just as an experiment. He threw in a good supply of condoms and sent the order off into cyberspace.
In bed on Sunday night he reviewed his plans. Trying to break up with Bella had been a complete failure, and had needlessly hurt them both. He would put it right tomorrow and apologise abjectly. And this time he would definitely cool it and avoid leaping on her the moment they were alone. He would need to win her trust again after his foolish over-reaction. But he was determined to put this mess right - he had to, he couldn’t go on like this, longing for her and obsessed, and hating himself.
He started in class on Monday morning by texting her a profuse apology, begging her to meet him at lunchtime in his car so they could talk. There was no reply, but he waited in the car anyway - at first hopefully, then with growing unease, finally going to the lunchroom after half an hour had passed with no sign of Bella. She was not there, although her truck was in the car park. Perhaps the text had not got through to her? He would see her in Biology.
She was in class, not looking at him and keeping her hair as a shield between them. He tried to start a conversation but had little time before Mr Banner began his lecture.
“Bella?” A soft whisper close to the shiny curtain of hair.
She leaned back from him, turning away slightly. Not good.
“Bella, I’m so sorry. I’ve been a fool, please forgive me.”
“Perhaps we could have your attention Mr Cullen, or are you too busy to join us in class today?” Mr Banner was sarcastic.
Edward subsided, worrying about her reaction. Of course she was upset, that was only natural. He would win her around. But he felt a small stirring of panic.
The panic increased across the week as he continued to try to talk with her and got nowhere. Bella avoided him, refusing to look at him or reply to the increasingly desperate attempts he made to apologise and win her over. He deluged her with texts begging her to take him back and forgive him. Still the cold shoulder.
His mail-order B&D kit arrived in discrete packaging but he couldn’t bring himself to open the parcel, just stashing it in his wardrobe. What was the point if Bella had rejected him?
Finally he went to Alice.
“I know you think I’m a complete fuckhead Alice and that makes two of us. I was an idiot. Please help me with Bella, please. I’m going insane here. I need to speak with her, I can’t live without her.”
She eyed him disgustedly. “You hurt her badly Edward. She’s probably still furious, and afraid you’ll do it again. Which you might, given what a douche you’ve been. Why should anyone believe you’ve changed?”
“I love her Alice. I was a fool to think we should break up, no matter what the problems were. Please Alice, I’m dying here.”
Alice frowned, but seemed to decide to take pity on him. “OK, I’ll talk to her and tell her how you feel. But that’s all. Just don’t fuck up like this again.”
He waited anxiously for Alice to report back. When she did, the news wasn’t good.
“She’s too upset Edward and she doesn’t trust you any more. You really hurt her and she can’t cope with you harassing her. She’ll change her mobile number if you don’t stop texting her all the time. You need to back off. Maybe she’ll come round in time, but give her some space.”
Space. It sounded cold and icy. A vacuum. He crawled off to huddle on his bed in a foetal lump, trying to block out the pain.
The next week passed in a blur. He stopped trying to text or talk with Bella, but still tried to make eye contact to show her how he was feeling. Unsuccessfully - she refused to look at him. Biology was a tantalising agony - his only chance to sit close to her, but still no contact. He leaned as close as he could and inhaled the scent of her hair - flowers and fruit - torturing himself. On Friday he dragged himself home after school to face another empty weekend with no Bella contact at all, not even the sight of her avoiding him.
By Saturday evening he was almost crazy with the restless need to see her. He drove to her street and circled the block a couple of times then parked some distance away and crept back to lurk at the base of a big tree under her window. The light was on in her room upstairs and he stared at the window, willing her to show herself. Finally she came to the glass and looked out briefly then twitched the curtain across the frame.
No! - he had to see more of her. He couldn’t stand this any longer. He clambered clumsily up the tree, never having been one for such outdoor pursuits in his childhood. Lodging himself in the branches just above her window he thumbed his phone in agony, knowing it was wrong, hating himself for giving way.
Bella I’m right outside your home
Come to the window, please my love
I miss you so, I’m in such pain
Please let me see you, show yourself
He sent it off and waited anxiously, trembling as he clung to the tree trunk.
After a few minutes the curtain opened and she was there, eyes wide, breathing rapidly and shaking her head angrily. She slid the window open a little and leaned out, gripping the sill with white knuckles.
“Fuck off Edward, don’t do this to me you bastard.” There were tears in her eyes but he was beyond reason.
“Please Bella, I have to see you, I have to talk to you. If this is the only way…”
“Why should I put myself through that again? Why should I trust you?”
“Give me a chance, just one more chance. I swear I’ll never hurt you again Bella, I swear.”
She was turning away again now - no! - he couldn’t allow that, he couldn’t bear it. In sheer desperation he began to sing his favourite Divinyls number. The video was a long-time wanking companion so he knew the song by heart.
“I close my eyes
And see you before me
Think I would die
If you were to ignore me
A fool could see
Just how much I adore you
I get down on my knees
I'd do anything for you”
Bella’s eyes closed and she shivered. He continued the chorus, his voice rougher now, softer, watching her breathing become ragged, her nipples erect now under the thin T-shirt she had put on for bed.
“I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself
I don't want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no…”
Bella’s hand slid down into her cotton pants and between her legs. He repeated the chorus again and again, undoing his jeans, taking his cock out and pumping himself hard as he watched her writhe on her fingers in the window before him, responding to his increasingly husky voice singing the lyrics. Her eyes were shut, her head fallen back helplessly as she touched herself, arching her hips, panting now, then opening her eyes and staring at him, hot and frantic, moaning fuck Edward…oh fuck…oh yes…oh I’m, oh fuck I’m…ohhh! as she came. She half collapsed against the sill, her forehead pressed to the cool glass of the window, shuddering.
Edward’s cock was about to explode. To see her come for him after so long a drought, so long away from her taste, her hot mouth, her soft body. He completely lost it, both hands on his cock now, spunk flying out into the night and his body shaking with the force of his orgasm as he sobbed her name.
Then he was falling, bouncing off half-grasped branches, grazing his hands, thudding into the grass on his back with the breath slammed out of him, dazed. If he were a cartoon character he’d have those little stars and birdies orbiting tightly around his head, his pupils spiralling.
As he lay there, winded and unable to move, a vehicle pulled up. He heard Bella’s window slide rapidly to and the curtain swished shut, then an angry voice was shouting and Chief Swan’s livid face was bending over him, accusing, demanding explanations. Edward lay there helpless, breathless, jeans undone, cock probably hanging out for all he knew, below the Chief’s daughter’s window. In a dim recess of his spinning mind he knew that this was very bad indeed. He was dead meat. He was cluster fucked.
The serious talks with Carlisle and Esme were the worst part. As a son of the town’s doctor he hadn’t been arrested in the end, and Bella apparently didn’t rat him out and tell her father what he’d been doing. The unzipped jeans made that pretty obvious however, but in the end Carlisle persuaded Charlie that he was a disturbed adolescent rather than a dangerous criminal and no charges were laid.
But there was worse to come. Carlisle was furious and baffled and searched his room, discovering and opening the mail-order package from “Bondage Unlimited”. There was just no real way to explain it to anyone else - even Edward himself was stumped for an explanation at this point, excruciatingly humiliated as he was. He resorted to teenage incoherence and vague mutterings about Bella and the poetry problem, all of which just made Carlisle and Esme even more angry and worried.
Carlisle got him alone and had a heart to heart chat about his sexual orientation and the bondage gear. Edward writhed in abject embarrassment. Fuck off and die, Carlisle. No, he wasn’t gay, no that wasn’t why he’d never had a girlfriend until Bella. No that wasn’t why he seemed to have moved rapidly from boyfriend to fetishistic stalker and exhibitionist in a matter of weeks. He had no sensible explanations so he just kept repeating the denials.
Of course Carlisle insisted he see a shrink. Carlisle knew someone who knew someone and a therapist was arranged in Port Angeles. Weekly sessions. And there were endless rules. He was grounded apart from school and therapy. He was not to go anywhere near Bella in or out of school, or call her. Carlisle had his Biology switched so they shared no classes. He was a Bella-free zone.
5. Being Shrunk
Edward stared glumly at a big old-looking oil painting on Dr Marcus’s wall, trying to figure out what it was about. Seventeenth century-looking people draped about balconies - maybe people at the opera? Probably the doc liked opera, being Italian. That would be a good ploy to distract him from the personal stuff. Edward knew about arty shit like opera and could yammer on about it for hours if need be.
He had already endured an unpleasant joint assessment session with his parents last week and now Esme was waiting outside in the car, having driven him to his first one-on-one therapy appointment.
The shrink had been going on for a while now about the ground-rules, how therapy was supposed to help him and the importance of frankness and openness during sessions. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen. Avoiding eye-contact, Edward folded his arms, slid further down in the La-Z-Boy chair and stretched his long legs out, kicking his sneaker toe sullenly against the corner of a large antique desk. The chair rotated a little. Cool. He swung slightly away from the doc.
“And please call me Aro, Edward.” Weird name, but then he was foreign. He looked sort of weird too, with pale skin, very dark penetrating eyes and long black hair in a pony-tail. Edward idly wondered how old he was but it was hard to tell.
“Sure Dr Marcus, I mean Aro.” Edward was outwardly all politeness but secretly determined to be as annoying as possible. Time to go on the offensive.
“So how does this work - where’s your couch? Do I tell you my dreams or look at ink blots?” I could spout endless crap about that.
“I don’t use a couch Edward. And you can talk about anything you like.”
Ain’t gonna happen Dr Dickface.
Aro eyed him calmly, hands steepled in front of him. He was in a La-Z-boy chair too. Edward was tempted to spin his around like a top but suppressed the urge to act like a complete brat.
“I don’t really have anything I want to talk about…Aro.” Not with you anyway, cocksucker.
“You don’t want to talk about what’s happened?”
Bastard, twisting my words. “Not really. It’s private.”
“Perhaps you’re afraid that I’ll judge you Edward?”
“Hey, feel free, everybody else is.” Including me.
“Well, I only want to help. I’m not here to judge you. But it might help to talk about it all.”
And it might not. Throw him a bone to shut him up. “it’s just the usual boyfriend-girlfriend teenage stuff. No biggie.”
“The usual stuff?” Aro was looking sceptical. “Does the usual stuff generally involve bondage kits?”
Here we go. “That was…a mistake.”
“A mistake.” Aro had an inscrutable look on his face. “Are you interested in bondage then Edward?”
Christ, straight for the jugular. He flushed. “No not really, it was just…necessary…”
“Not really? You’re a little interested in it?”
Careful. Normalise, damage control. “Well most people probably are, aren’t they? You know, wanting to be in control or give up control…”
“Which do you prefer?”
Edward squirmed in his chair and twirled it away at 90 degrees from Aro, then kicked himself back.
“Shit I don’t know. Both, neither. Look, I’m not a fetishist really. It was all a mistake. Bella was just getting…out of control…” Damn. Shouldn’t have mentioned her.
“Out of control sexually?”
Fucking mind reading cocksucker. It was worse than being at the dentist’s. “It wasn’t her fault. It was my fault.”
“Your fault she was out of control?”
Edward gritted his teeth. OK you non-judgemental bastard, see what you make of this. “It was the poetry.”
“Poetry?” Aro looked genuinely puzzled now. “You wrote her poetry? That’s quite normal you know Edward. Especially for adolescents.”
Well duh. “Yeah. But she reacts to it in a weird way. She gets very turned on.”
“And that was a problem?”
“Well her kind of raping me after reading my poem was a tiny problem, yes. She sort of attacked me.”
“She attacked you. And this distressed you?”
Not precisely but I’m fucked if I’m giving you a blow by blow account. Buy your own porn. “Well, no. But we both got…carried away. It’s like she got hooked on my poetry. And I’m hooked on her, so I kept writing more.”
“So the bondage restraints were to…stop her getting carried away?”
Finally someone gets it. “Right. I just tied her up with T-shirts at the time, but it was hard to get the knots undone.”
“T-shirts…I see…” Aro regarded him thoughtfully.
What? He’d been a good little patient hadn’t he? He’d spilled the beans?
“And did she want you to restrain her?”
“Yeah, she suggested it. She really wanted to hear my poem.”
“And this was an…erotic poem?”
More squirming and twirling. “Uh-huh.” Edward glared at the opera painting again, embarrassed.
You’re in cloud fucking cuckoo land if you think I’m going to tell you what was in it though.
“That painting looks really old.” He pointed at the opera one, desperate for a diversion from Aro’s basilisk gaze.
“Yes, it’s a family heirloom. I wonder why you mentioned it?”
“I love opera - and music and art generally. I play the piano myself.” Edward realised he sounded totally up himself but he had to divert Aro off the fucking poem.
“You like the arts and music?”
Edward took that as an invitation to rave on for quite some time about music he enjoyed, operas he’d seen, the classics he’d read and his CD collection. Finally he ran out of steam.
Aro smiled kindly. Patronising prick. “You seem very interested in music and literature Edward. I wonder if this new relationship, this new sexual relationship, has been a bit of a challenge for you? In terms of how you see yourself as a person?”
What was he on about now? “No not really. Bella was into similar things.”
Like sucking my cock and being fucked until she was incoherent. Damn - big mistake to let those thoughts slip through. He started getting hard and had to call up frantic cockblocking images. Borat and his fat manager wrestling nude in the hotel room. Hillary Clinton. Although Hillary Clinton in black leather with a whip might be…fuck no, stop it! Borat! Borat!
“I just ask, as your parents seemed concerned that you might be a little…sexually confused.”
Edward stared sullenly at Aro, refusing to play that game.
“They seemed concerned about your sexual orientation Edward.”
Name rank and serial number dickhead. That’s all you’re getting.
“I know this can be difficult to talk about Edward, but it could be important. Do you see yourself as predominantly heterosexual? It’s OK if you’ve had other fantasies or feelings. This is a safe place to discuss them.”
Safe? It was a safe as necking with a thirsty vampire. As safe as rollerblading on the edge of the Grand Canyon. Safe?
“Look, I’m here because I was trying to see my girlfriend, right? Note the word girl in that sentence.”
“Mmmm. But you have to admit it hasn’t been the most straightforward of relationships Edward. And your parents said you hadn’t dated anyone else before Bella.”
“So? I’m a late fucking developer I guess. This is crap: I’m not gay.”
“Sometimes young men like yourself can be in denial about their orientation and…overcompensate. Your fantasies about bondage could be a deep-seated wish to take on the female role in a relationship…”
OK, gloves coming off now. “Look Aro, Karl Popper said that psychoanalysis was inherently unscientific because therapists like you can just ignore the facts and say patients like me are 'repressing' being gay. And there’s no way we can ever prove you wrong - if we don’t act gay we’re in denial. So you can take that theory and shove it…” He’d almost said “up your ass” but Christ knew what Dr. Shitforbrains would make of that.
A discrete chime from Aro’s desk clock saved him from further harassment. Session over and not before freaking time.
Esme was clearly dying to quiz him in the car as they drove home, but she just said “Did it go OK?”
Edward grunted noncommittally - he needed her to think he was co-operating. Fuck. How was he going to stand weeks of this shit?
Therapy certainly didn’t help him to stop obsessing about Bella. He still saw her at school from a distance, she still avoided him. Although once or twice he thought he almost caught her looking at him, but he couldn’t be sure. He still dreamed of winning her over and getting her to trust him again.
And there were other less romantic dreams, fuelled by their brief, intense relationship. He lost count of how many times he’d sucked her breasts or made her come in his mouth while she screamed his name. Or how often he’d taken her from behind, her lovely pale ass bent over any convenient object. He wasn’t fussy - he’d had her over his couch, his bed, the desks at school, her bed, the sofa in her living room, over fallen trees in the woods, across the hood of the Volvo... How do I fuck thee? Let me count the ways…
Alice saw more of her than he did. A lot more. She’d befriended Bella after he’d gotten her to drive the truck home and now she was always going round to Bella’s place to study or hang out together. He saw them chatting and laughing together as they walked between classes, neither of them giving him the time of day. Bella looked happier now and his heart sank to see it. He knew that was shitty and selfish but he couldn’t help it. She’d gotten over him, she no longer cared and it hurt like hell. He knew he must look like a sad loser always watching her with puppy-dog eyes, but he couldn’t resist. He wanted Bella and no-one else and if all he could have was watching her from a distance, he’d take that. He was her satellite, orbiting out in the dark cold reaches of her solar system. Giving her fucking space.
Edward wasn’t entirely a reformed character. He still brooded about how to manage the poetry effect if he ever managed to get Bella to take him back. Other people’s poems, but which ones? Love poetry, obviously, but it needed to be poems she would know, or written in an old-fashioned style. If he used some obscure modern poet she might assume he’d written the lines himself and go feral on him again. He collected several, just in case - Browning, Donne, Shakespeare, several favourites.
Marvell was appropriate he thought bleakly:
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life.
Or the classic:
O western wind, when wilt thou blow
That the small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
That one worked especially well in Forks’ appalling climate.
Then there were song lyrics - a rich motherlode of material and he’d already proved that they worked as well as poems. Hmmm. Probably not “Rape Me” by Nirvana or “Break My Body” by The Pixies. Or “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails for that matter. He had to stop listening to that one, it made him too depressed. “Sunshine” by Keane was sadly appropriate. Girls liked “Chasing Cars” of course, and “You’re So Damn Hot” by OK Go would set the right mood. Hell, he could even see himself singing “Love Will Keep Us Together” to her and hamming it up, on his brighter days. It was hard to keep hoping but he had to try.
For some weeks he avoided writing his own poetry again - it seemed best not to tempt fate. But after a session with Aro about his relationship with Bella he decided that it could be an enhancement not an addiction. Maybe he’d had the wrong attitude and panicked unnecessarily. He decided to branch out into other types of short poetry like haiku (best to keep the snippets short, he wasn’t sure she’d ever give him a chance to get through a longer poem).
Your soft touch
On my cold body
Hmmm. Maybe that was a bit short - could be frustrating. The 5-7-5 form might be better.
In the spring meadow
Crushing you hard against me
Making you all mine
If only. He decided not to mention that he was writing again to Aro. They were still engaged in an intermittent battle of wills, but at least he was someone to talk to and sometimes Aro made sense. Not that Edward would ever let him know.
He managed to persuade Esme to let him drive himself to Port Angeles for therapy after the first couple of weeks. It let him poke about the town and explore obscure bookshops or the library.
One day he happened on a book called “Doing the Juicy”. It was filled with erotic poems by some up and coming Seattle poet called James Laurence. He flicked through, noting the dust jacket bio which seemed proud to advertise the poet as a “controversial ladies’ man”. The photo showed a young man with a 5 o’clock shadow whose “bedroom eyes” smouldered off the page. Slimeball. The poems were extremely explicit and his cock twitched as he read a few. They made him worry about all the temptations out there that Bella might encounter. Would she transfer the poetry fixation to someone else if he never won her back? The thought made him ache deep inside.
Another week in the dark corner of a used bookstore he found a scruffy old book called “One Hundred Basic Knots”, probably some sort of Boy Scout required reading. Only three dollars so he decided to buy it. His T-shirt knots had left a lot to be desired, the way they tightened up on Bella’s wrists and ankles.
For a moment he leaned helplessly against the bookstore’s musty stacks, feeling her cunt suck him into her again, feeling himself pump helplessly into her hot, wet flesh. He shut his eyes and groaned softly, his cock on fire and straining painfully against his jeans. Edward eased his crotch, his hand lingering on himself. No, he wasn’t so far gone as to be jerking off in the recesses of a used bookstore. He pulled himself together.
Best to learn a bit more about the knots though, just in case…especially as the bondage kit had been confiscated. For a brief bizarre moment Edward wondered if Carlisle and Esme had made any use of it. He squashed that errant thought smartly. Too disturbing.
The next week Edward was leaving the Port Angeles library when he noticed a flyer on the noticeboard.
listen to acclaimed local poet James Laurence read his work
The Veela Cafe
That was the womanising bastard whose book he’d picked up the other week. Christ - he had some front reading those poems aloud to an audience. Probably have his pick of the women attending to take home afterwards though, once he’d gotten them in the mood. Edward was faintly envious.
He used the drive home to think seriously about his situation. He’d given Bella a lot of “space” now. Maybe it wasn’t the right way to handle things any more? Maybe he needed to make a move, to woo her again? Talking with Aro had made him less crazy about the situation and he thought he could handle how he felt better and not go completely off the deep end this time. He decided to talk to Alice.
She was in her room laying out cut-out pieces of material to be sewn into a new blouse. At first she was brusque with him, mumbling “go way Evwd” round a mouthful of pins, but he persuaded her to spit them out and talk to him. He’d never really told her the whole story so he decided to be completely honest. It all tumbled out - the Valentine’s card, Bella’s reaction to poetry, why they’d used the restraints, his desperation to make amends and be with her again, even the tree disaster. He felt exhausted once he’d blurted it all out. Sitting on her bed with his head in his hands, dangerously close to tears.
Alice came to sit beside him, her small arm as far as it would reach around his waist, her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and hugged her to him, slightly comforted.
“Christ what a mess.” She sighed. “OK, I hate to break a promise but you’re my brother and this needs to get sorted out so I’m going to tell you what’s going on with her. Look Edward - Bella’s still in love with you and she misses you, but she was frightened. She’s afraid you’ll let her down again. Plus you’ve been on lockdown so no contact’s been possible and she didn’t want to tease you. But are you sure you can be sensible about her now - I mean you haven’t been especially mature in how you’ve handled all this stuff, have you?”
“She still loves me?” His heart leapt in his chest. She loves me, Bella loves me!
“Hold it there cowboy, don’t go charging off into the sunset half-cocked.” Alice chewed her lip, thinking hard. "OK, here’s what we’ll do. Carlisle and Esme can probably be talked round to ease up on the grounding, since you’ve been toeing the line for the last few weeks. No - let me talk to them first. Maybe they could call your therapist too, would he support you?”
“Yeah, we get on better now. I think he’d be fine.”
“Charlie’s the problem. It’ll take a concerted effort to get him to come round. And you need Bella to be on your side again for that - she’s the main one he’ll listen to in the end. So you need to talk with her and get this shit straightened out first.”
She snapped her fingers. “I know. We’ll get you ungrounded then you can come to this thing we’re going to on Saturday in Port Angeles. You can go separately and meet up with her “by accident” and have a proper talk. Maybe you could drive her home or something? I’ll get her set up for it and put in a good word for you.”
Edward was excited. At last! “OK, great. So what is it - are you going to a movie?”
“No it’s some poetry reading Bella heard about - she wanted to go to it. Some Seattle poet. Supposed to be a hottie.” She winked.
“Shit. James Laurence?”
“Yes, that sounds right. Why - do you know his stuff?”
“I saw a book of his work in a store at Port Angeles. And a flyer. It’s pretty hard core stuff Alice. I’m worried about exposing Bella to it, I mean, with her reaction to poetry…” Plus he’s a womanising slimeball.
“Whoa there. You can’t be going all possessive on her now Edward. That’s exactly the sort of thing that’ll put her off. So don’t try to boss her around or say what she can or can’t do. And I thought this poetry thing was just to your stuff anyway?”
“Well yes, mostly, but she gets a slight reaction to other poems, and it’s just that his stuff is…well it’s …extreme. And I don’t like the sound of him. He’s got a bad rep with women apparently.”
“Oh calm down - she’ll be fine. She’ll be with me. Stop over-reacting again and get a grip.”
So the game was on and he tried not to think about Bella listening to James mouth sleazy verse, not to let red coils of jealousy spoil the joy of knowing that she still loved him.
My heart sings
Flying skylark high
You love me
6. Doing the Juicy
(Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. But with poems)
Edward watched Bella and Alice go into the Veela café. He waited until just after 6 o’clock then slipped in the door, lurking at the back by the windows where it was darker. The place was crowded and as he’d suspected, largely with women. He felt a little embarrassed to be one of the few guys there and he guessed that the others had mostly been coerced by their wives or girlfriends with promises of bedroom gymnastics afterwards, amped up by the evening’s hot verse.
Edward didn’t think he could cope with being right beside Bella and Alice during the reading, especially after so long away from her. It didn’t seem the right atmosphere in which to get reacquainted, especially as he’d probably have a hard on. He’d catch her after it ended and talk with her outside - and in the car, as he planned to get her to drive home with him.
He could see Bella across the room though and he feasted his eyes on her. She was wearing a deep blue blouse that made her pale skin glow and a full mid-calf skirt in wine red. God she was lovely, her cheeks slightly flushed as she chatted animatedly with Alice. She was casting surreptitious glances around the room, and finally she located him in the shadows. They stared at each other and he knew his face showed frank longing. He didn’t try to hide it. Bella’s gaze was intense, still a little troubled, but she gave him a half-smile and his heart almost stopped. He smiled back, enormously cheered even by the tentative acknowledgement.
“Excuse me everyone, excuse me, can we have some hush here now.” Ting ting ting.
An older woman wearing rather too many strings of beads and a dress that seemed to be made of old chenille curtains was tapping a teaspoon on a glass. The babble of voices faded.
“Lovely to see such a good turnout here tonight. James will be signing his new volume “Doing the Juicy” after the reading so stick around for that. Copies will be on sale. And without further ado, I’m delighted to introduce one of Seattle’s finest young poets, already with quite a reputation!” She winked and the audience tittered knowingly. “So ladies and gentlemen, I give you …James Laurence!” A small storm of applause, which Edward refused to join. Fuck if he was going to clap the slimeball.
The poet rose from the front row of chairs and stepped up onto the raised floor area as Chenille Curtains took his seat. He flicked his shoulder-length hair back and turned a smouldering stare on the audience, then opened a paperback and began to read.
“In the Shower
Skin to skin
Soaping your body
Spray sluicing from your curves
Hands on your wetness
In your wetness
As you writhe and I’m
Kneeling beneath you
Cleaning your dark salty slit
With my dirty tongue.”
Edward winced - no holds barred from the word go. But the assembled ladies loved it and clapped enthusiastically. He looked at Bella and was worried to see how flushed and bright-eyed she was as she applauded. But it was quite hot in the café crowded with people, probably that was all.
James paused and glanced around the room under thick lashes. Jesus, did he just lick his lips? Then he was off again, declaiming another lascivious poem to his rapt listeners. Edward felt oddly uncomfortable hearing a man read erotic verse. Even more weirded out as his cock responded, twitching in his jeans.
Teasing me all day
At the game, in the park
Walking ahead of me
Jiggling that sweet butt
Bending to tie your shoe
Straight-legged, back arched
Thrusting your ass at me
Asking to be fucked
Teasing me all night
At dinner with your folks
Fingers run up my thigh
Under the tablecloth
Fingers hot on my cock
Through the coarse denim
Helpless to stop you
I push into your hand
Finally we’re alone
But still you’re teasing
Flirting and half-undressed
Making me lose control
Punishing your teasing
With my hands, with my mouth
Then with my hard cock
I make you scream uncle.”
Damn. Edward adjusted his erection as the applause rang out again. And Bella was breathing quickly across the room, flushed and excited, her eyes fixed on James. She was definitely reacting. Edward tried to calm the red wave of jealously that swept through him. He was reacting so of course she was. The poems were hot.
He suffered through the rest of the reading watching Bella gazing at James wide-eyed, obviously aroused. It hurt to see her respond to someone else even though he knew it was the goddamn poetry effect again.
And lets face it, if it had been him reciting those poems she wouldn’t have just been sitting there. No, they’d have been doing the juicy right there on the podium in front of all these turned on ladies. The thought cheered him somewhat, and made him even harder.
He adjusted his crotch again, wondering if all the wet panties in the room were affecting him, scents of arousal rising all around as thirty or so excited women shifted restlessly in their seats, pheromones filling the warm café air and going straight up his nose and to his cock. God he wanted to fuck Bella so much.
Finally James declaimed the last poem, a raunchy number about watching his lover give him head which particularly resonated with Edward so that he had to turn away and lean his cheek on the cold glass of the window for a minute, breathing deeply until he had some control again.
The applause went on and on then Chenille Curtains was back, directing people to the signing table where books were for sale. The audience milled about in a babble of excited conversation and people began slipping away. Edward strained to see through the crush, scanning for Alice and Bella.
There - Bella was in line with a book, waiting for James to sign it. He didn’t like the thought of her anywhere near him but what could he do? He couldn’t charge over like a Neanderthal and drag her off by her hair.
Alice popped up in front of him, babbling away. Dammit, she was supposed to be minding Bella.
“Edward I tried to get her to ride back with you but she wouldn’t make a decision and now I can’t get through to her at all. She’s totally preoccupied with this guy and his poetry. I’m sorry you were right about how it affects her, I shouldn’t have let her come here tonight. I didn’t really understand before or I guess I didn’t really believe you. You’d better try to talk with her another night. I promise I’ll get her home safely though. I’ll work on her and set another meeting up. I owe you one, I’m really sorry.”
Shit. Crushing disappointment gripped him and he thought furiously. What if she had no choice?
“Here’s what we’ll do Alice. We’ll have a noisy fight over here then you’ll storm off and drive home alone. If Bella has no ride she’ll have to let me take her home. Please Alice, like you said, you owe me. Please.”
Alice dithered, not happy, but in the end she caved and played her part, shouting dramatically.
“Fuck you Edward, I can do what I want. Don’t you dare threaten to tell Mom and Dad that we came here tonight!”
“Listen sis, someone has to keep an eye on you and you know they said you weren’t to come to this, this pornfest after they saw his book!”
“Don’t you call me ‘sis’ you patronising asshole!” She was genuinely furious now. Alice hated nicknames.
“I’ll call you whatever I like when you’re being fucking stupid Alice!”
“Fuck you Edward, just fuck off and leave me alone!”
And she stormed out slamming the door, the bell chiming loudly above it. He winced, blushing with real embarrassment as the remaining ladies eyed him with some interest. Careful, they might find a flushed, excited young man quite toothsome after squirming in their wet panties for the past hour.
But where was Bella? He looked around frantically but she was nowhere. Nor was James anywhere to be seen as the last stragglers wandered to the door and collected their coats. Edward ran outside but there were only a few women getting into cars. No Bella. Was she in the toilet? He dashed back inside then out the back and pushed into the women’s toilet not caring who might be there. No-one. In desperation he tried the men’s, in case James was there - at least that would reassure him. No-one.
Back to the café and only Chenille Curtains was left, stacking the remaining books into a carton.
“Where did he go?” Edward was loud, no play-acting now.
The woman turned, startled. “What? Who?”
“Your fucking poet. James Laurence that’s who! Where’d he fucking go?” He was standing over her, trembling.
“He’s driving back to Seattle tonight. It’s still early and he’s got a fast car…but why?”
“He’s got my girlfriend as well, the bastard.”
“That young woman with the long dark hair?”
Edward groaned. She was with fucking James. “Yes - a blue blouse and a deep red skirt?”
Chenille Curtains nodded, looking cautious. “Well I’m sure they know their own minds young man. James tends to be a free spirit and your…girlfriend…seems to have made her own decision. I’m sorry but…”
“Listen.” He wasn't sure if this was actually the case or not but it was worth a try and he doubted the woman was very observant. “She’s below the age. It’s statutory rape if he touches her so just fucking tell me where he’s headed and I’ll get her safely back to her parents again.” Well there was only Chief Swan - wait, that was another argument. “Or I could just call her father now - he’s the Chief of Police in Forks.”
That was the clincher for her, as he’d hoped.
“Well I…I’m sure James didn’t realise…she looked very mature for her age…but he can’t really afford another scandal so soon after…” She frowned. “Alright. He lives in that big apartment block downtown, the Metropolitan Tower - apartment 93D.”
Edward turned to go then spun back at the door. “Wait, what sort of car does he have?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know about cars. Some sort of convertible. Red.”
Right, the usual motorized penis. He crashed out into the night, the door chiming crazily, and ran for the Volvo.
Edward calculated fiercely as he drove. It was nearly 8 o’clock now so James would probably take the shorter route across the Bainbridge Island ferry, not the long way around through Tacoma which took over two hours. But when were the next ferries? He pulled out his mobile and dialled Directory, then the ferry depot. They were at 8.45 and 9.35. James would never make the 8.45 ferry, he must be headed for the 9.35 one. But what if he did decide to just drive round through Tacoma and avoid the ferries?
There was no way of being certain, but Edward sensed that James would want to get Bella to his apartment as soon as possible, and that having half an hour to woo her with more of his fucking poems on the ferry when he didn’t have to drive and had his hands free (Edward’s jaw clenched at the thought) would appeal. Shit shit shit. He had to get to the Bainbridge Island ferry terminal before it sailed.
What was she thinking, he raged angrily - was she hypnotised by the sleazebag? Had he drugged her? Other than with his poems that is. He had to assume that she wasn’t herself, that she wasn’t in control - it hurt too much otherwise. But Alice had said she still loved him, and she’d never disobey Charlie to this extent if she were thinking rationally. No, that fucker had done something to her, something to trick and seduce her into going with him. Edward sped on through the night, flooring the gas pedal.
He took the last turn far too fast and barely missed the gatepost of the ferry terminal as he raced to make the sailing deadline. It was 9.15 and as the Volvo accelerated towards the wharf he saw the red convertible behind three other cars, queuing to drive on board. Yes!
Skidding to a stop beside the red car he leapt out and peered in the passenger side. He could see Bella sprawled on the leather seat, her head on James’ shoulder, giggling as he whispered something in her ear. His hand was on her knee and Edward snarled and tried to open her door. It was locked - the asshole probably used kiddie locks to make sure his prey didn’t change their minds and escape.
James looked up at him, frowning. Edward ran around the car and pulled open the driver’s door then wrenched James out of the seat. Bella fell giggling across the seats, sprawling loosely. She was definitely on something.
Then a hard fist smashed into his jaw and he fell, bruising his shoulder and grazing his hands on the wet asphalt of the car park. He tasted blood in his mouth.
James stood over him, glaring down. “The fuck you think you’re doing you little punk?”
“Taking Bella home. I’m her boyfriend shithead.” Edward clambered back to his feet again as James loomed over him with clenched fists, tall and solidly muscled. “What the fuck have you done to her? She’s completely out of it.”
James sneered. “Tricks of the trade jerk-off. But she came with me before she tried my flask of special brandy. So you’re history, boyfriend.”
That hurt, but Edward knew it was just the damn poetry again, sucking her in so James could fuck her up even further with some goddam date-rape spiked liquor. He looked around wildly. There were no cops here, and the ferry staff weren’t likely to want to get involved and help him. And James was bigger and stronger.
He appealed to Bella.
“Bella baby, it’s me, Edward. Please, come home with me now, this guy’s a jerk and he’s…”
James had him pinned to the car now, pushed back against the black cloth top by his throat with his back pressed painfully against the struts.
“Don’t fuck with my pussy you little douchebag.” Hissing poisonously in his ear.
But Bella had somehow clambered out of the driver’s door and was on her hands and knees on the asphalt, shaking her head and still giggling as though this were all a game. She grabbed onto James and pulled herself upright hand over hand, clinging to him and swaying, her hair dishevelled.
“Baby doll,” James crooned, still half choking Edward against the car as Edward struggled and tried to kick out. “Stay in the car babe, it’s cold out here. I’m just getting rid of this little douche then we’ll be on our way. You wanna hear more of my poems dontcha? You like my poems baby, remember?”
“Like poems. Hot…” Bella grinned blearily. “Watcha doin to Edward? Does he wanna hear poems too?”
“Fuck no babes, little Eddie here’s got other plans and three’s definitely a crowd.” James grabbed Edward by the shoulders and thrust him away hard. He staggered and half fell again, but caught himself in time, coughing and rubbing his throat.
James had Bella pulled hard to him, arm tightly around her waist. She was giggling and leaning into him, her eyes unfocussed.
Shit. Fuck. He had to get her to go with him. There was one possibility, this asshole’s ego being the size of Texas.
“Tell you what James, lets be old fashioned and duel for the lady. Poems at ten paces.”
James snorted. “Fuck off you little pissant.”
“No really - if you’re such a fuckhot poet why don’t you go up against me mano a mano, poem against poem. We’ll let Bella choose which poet she prefers.”
“You think you can compete with me in the poetry stakes you little fucker? I don’t think so. Bring it on, but make it fast before the ferry leaves, cos this little lady and me have got plans.”
“Fairy? What fairy?” Bella was peering around, smirking blearily.
“Right. Leave Bella beside the car and stand over there. We’ll see who she goes towards when we each say a poem.”
With some difficulty James extricated himself from Bella’s clutches and propped her on the convertible. She held herself up by the doorway, looking vaguely from Edward to James and back like a slow-mo tennis match.
“Cold…” she whined blurrily.
“Sorry Bella, we’ll be fast. After you James, as the published poet. Make it a short one, no more than ten lines max. There’s no time for an epic.”
“Oh I can get the ladies off without an epic, dickhead. OK…
Come for me baby
Come for me now
You know you want it
You know you need it
I want to see you
Lose it as I fuck you
Mindless and hot
As you come for me."
Bella had turned and focussed on James as he said the poem. Edward had to hand it to him - it was a good choice. Short and to the point, and each time he said the word “come” Bella got more flushed, until she took a step towards James as he said the last line.
“Pretty conclusive I’d say.” James smirked. “So lets hear your amateur effort.”
“I don’t claim to be a pro James, but I’ve got a secret weapon. This isn’t a great poem or even a good one, but it’s mine and Bella loves me, and that’s what really counts.
Oh my sweet girl with tresses dark
Lets take the Volvo and go park
Up a back road deep in the trees
And there I’ll gently part your knees
And come inside you as we fuck.”
Bella had swivelled as he started the poem, her eyes wide, breathing rapidly. As he continued she shuddered and her mouth opened, tongue running around her lips as she eyed him through her lashes.
“Fuck Edward” she whispered hoarsely, “Fuck me in the Volvo…yes…”
Then she was staggering the short distance and falling into his arms as she grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him fiercely, pressing herself against him.
James was looking stunned, momentarily at a loss so Edward took advantage and sweeping the writhing Bella up in his arms he ran to the Volvo, thrusting her into his still-open door and across the seat then scrambling in after and slamming down the locks. James pounded on the roof but the strong Swedish construction was designed to withstand Scandinavian freeway crashes so he didn’t get anywhere.
Edward accelerated out of the car park, leaving James cursing as the ferry bell tolled a departure warning.
Bella wasn’t making their getaway any easier. She kept grabbing for his groin across the center console so that he swerved wildly, fishtailing down the wet black road. It was too risky and after a mile or so he pulled off into a dark side-road and parked, reaching across and kissing her hot mouth as she groped him.
She was so lovely and uninhibited on whatever that bastard had given her, and he’d fired her up even more with the poem. He knew he shouldn’t touch her now - she was doubly drugged and not rational at all. But he had to calm her down so he could drive, and he wanted her so damn much as she gripped his hard cock through his jeans that any choice slid away.
He opened the car doors and pulled her into the back seat, shutting the cold night out and putting her hands under his shirt to warm them as he pulled her to straddle his lap. But Bella wasn’t feeling the cold now, she was flushed and her hands were roving on his skin and it felt so good that he moaned, one hand twisted in her hair at the base of her neck pulling her against him, the other fondling her breast. Bella's open mouth was locked on his now and her fingers were on his lips and in his mouth as she slid her tongue against his and whimpered into the kiss.
Suddenly he'd been pushed onto his back with his knees raised, jammed against the door, and she was riding his groin, fumbling ineffectually with his shirt and jeans. He slid his hands up under her skirt and stroked the inside of her bare thighs, the softness making him groan helplessly again. Bella put her head back and gasped, bucking her hips as he lifted her up to kneel above him. He hooked his fingers into the crotch of her panties, pushing them aside and sliding two fingers into her, his thumb caressing her clit through the wet fabric.
She fell forward onto all fours, arms and legs straddling him and her head arched back above him, face ecstatic as she pumped her hips onto his fingers in complete abandon, grunting softly with pleasure. His cock was so hard but it was staying in his pants - she was too wasted and he had no condoms in the car. But her face and the sounds she was making and the way she moved on his fingers…he’d never been so turned on in his life and he groaned words from James’ poem “Come for me baby, come for me now…..oh Bella, come for me...”
She shuddered and he felt her cunt grip his fingers as the orgasm took her, then she collapsed onto his groin, pressing on his swollen cock and thrusting her ass back against him as she rode it out. It was too much and he gripped her hips and pulled her hard against him, thrusting and rubbing against her in desperation, then crying out as he came.
He held her for some time, rocking her in his arms and murmuring sweet nonsense as he stroked her wild hair.
She was fast asleep when he finally pulled himself away. He found an old blanket in the trunk and tucked it around her on the back seat, kissing her cheek as he got into the front again.
He was bruised and his throat hurt, his grazed hands were painful and his jeans were damp and sticky.
Edward had never felt so good in all his life.
7. Sliding Home
Alice was waiting when Edward pulled the Volvo into his usual spot in the garage. He'd called her while driving back to Forks and explained what had gone down with James.
Well he'd tried to, after Alice had yelled at him for the first few minutes. She'd spent the last hour or two chewing her nails after he failed to get back home shortly after she did. And Alice wasn't one to forgive anything that led to nail biting. He'd had to promise her a no holds barred manicure and pedicure before she shut up. Finally he got a word in edgewise and explained it all. He had to: he needed her help with Charlie.
So now she was waiting on the steps, anxious to check on Bella. He opened the rear passenger door and half pulled, half-lifted Bella out. She was still out for the count so he carried her in his arms through the sleeping house. Alice had covered for him with Esme and Carlisle, pretending he'd gone straight to his room and crashed when she came home. He followed her upstairs and they settled Bella into Alice's bed, on her side in the recovery position.
"I'll watch her Edward and make sure she's OK."
"Thanks. I don't know what that bastard used but she should sleep it off by morning. How was Charlie?"
"He bought the cover-story. I said that after we got home from Port Angeles she fell asleep in front of a movie so I put her to bed and could we have a sleep-over. He's fishing all day Sunday so he suggested she stay until Sunday night. I had to tell him you were away all weekend on a camping trip so you'd better not be seen around town."
"I'll stay close." Close to Bella - Edward tried not to let his delight show too obviously. Another day with her. They could finally talk, he could make things right.
Even after a hot shower and some Tylenol he didn't sleep much and by seven Edward was awake and dressed, wandering restlessly around his room fretting about Bella. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer and crept downstairs.
Alice's room was quiet and he knew better than to go barging in so he camped in the hallway outside, happier close to Bella now that he was back within her orbit again, even if she was asleep. Obscurely comforted by the proximity he fell into a deeper sleep there, curled on the plush carpet in a corner of the landing by Alice's door.
Alice found him there fast asleep an hour later and he woke to her shaking his shoulder, her face amused and disbelieving.
"Tell me you haven't been there all night you idiot."
He yawned, knuckling his eyes. "No, woke up earlier and I just...I wanted to..." He gave up trying to explain and just looked up at Alice hopefully. "Is she awake? Is she OK?"
"Yes to the first and I'm not sure about the second. She's confused - she needs to talk with you but she's asked me to be there as well. Go get us all some breakfast while I put her clothes through the wash. Bring a tray back up here. And coffee - lots of coffee."
Edward wandered around the kitchen trying to assemble breakfast. It was hard to concentrate as he was distracted by thoughts of Bella's clothes being in the wash i.e. not on her. Bella naked in the shower, water coursing down her...fuck, the toast was burning. Or was she in borrowed lingerie? Alice didn't possess anything loose or shapeless so he allowed himself to hope just a little as he carried the tray upstairs. He'd brought fruit, toast and coffee, with a white rose stolen from Esme's front hall flower arrangement as a final touch.
He knocked on the door and beamed at Bella as she opened it. Alice had cunningly located some of his own clean clothing in the laundry and Bella was well concealed in a too-large T-shirt with a frowning Beethoven on the front and gray sweatpants, the bottoms rolled up. She looked adorable.
She smiled tentatively back but she seemed drawn and preoccupied. Alice had cleared a round table by the window and he set the tray there. The coffee was popular but none of them ate much.
Bella stared down into her cup, stirring the black liquid obsessively, then glanced up at him.
"What happened last night Edward? I only remember patches, the rest's all blurred."
"Do you remember the start - the poetry reading?"
She nodded, blushing, and he wanted to pull her to him and kiss her hot cheeks but it was too soon for that.
"Well, Alice can help with that bit too. It was the poetry again, it affected you...well it affected everyone there I think, but you more than the rest. You know, that sort of poetry especially..." He risked a glance - she was still blushing furiously. "It's OK Bella, it's not your fault, you can't help the reaction you have."
"I should never have taken you." Alice was apologetic. "Really - Edward did warn me. He didn't want you to go but I didn't take any notice. I am sorry."
"I should know better by now, I'm so stupid. But I love poetry and it's hard to have to give it up..." She sounded miserable.
Edward leaned in. "No Bella, you don't have to give it up. I'm sure we can find ways to...work around the problem. I've had a few ideas..."
Alice glared and kicked him sharply under the table. Whoops, got a bit carried away there.
"Anyway, James was a major sleaze and I think he's got some track record of doing this sort of thing before. He took advantage of you being...affected...by the poems, and got you into his car and gave you some goddam cocktail of booze and probably a sedative. I was sorting things out with Alice about how you were getting home..."
Alice shot him a warning look and he backtracked, telling the full story. "Actually I persuaded Alice to fake an argument with me and stomp off so I could take you home. I'm sorry - If I hadn't been preoccupied with my devious plans to get to talk with you I'd have seen him take you out the back door to his car. I had to force that woman with the beads to tell me what car he drove and where his apartment was - where he'd be taking you."
Alice chimed in. "Yes that's right Bella. I'm so sorry again that I let Edward persuade me to pick a fight with him and leave you there. But I was certain that he would look after you, and he was so desperate..."
"It's OK Alice, my fault for going off with that douche James." Bella stirred her coffee, looking glum. "Here's where it gets really blurry for me. What happened next?" She looked up at Edward apprehensively.
"I don't think he did anything before I caught up with you at the Bainbridge Ferry. He was parked, waiting to board, and I got him out of the car. He punched me and I was pretty lame about fighting back, but then you sort of clambered and fell out of the car and he wouldn't let you go so...I...I made him duel me for you."
They were both looking at him incredulously now - he hadn't told Alice this part.
"I know, it sounds dumb but he's got such a swelled head and I figured he couldn't resist. So I challenged him to a sort of poetry throwdown."
Alice snorted into her cup and Bella's eyes widened.
"We each had to say one of our poems and the one you responded to most was the winner. I was cheating of course, as I knew how you'd react. Well, I hoped you'd still react that way." He was blushing now, looking out the window.
"And did I?" Bella groaned, head in hands.
"Er...yes, to me. You walked - well, staggered - over and kissed me so I grabbed you and just ran to the car and got us the hell out of there. It was mainly to get his hands off you so I could get you away. You were pretty out of it." He decided to edit the back seat events. "Then you fell asleep in the car."
Alice blew out a breath, shaking her head. "Poetry saves the day, who'da thunk it."
"Thank you Edward." Bella put her hand on his. "If he'd got me to Seattle in that state..." She shivered and looked distressed.
"You're welcome Bella." He tried to put all his feelings into the trite phrase, his voice soft. "I couldn't have done anything else but go after you, I was half-crazy with worry."
"Just worry huh?" Alice was wry.
"Worry, jealousy." He shrugged. "Love..." He took Bella's hand in both of his. "I've been an idiot Bella, but I want to be with you again and get it right this time."
Her brown eyes were serious. "Yes, we both need to handle it...differently. It has to be normal this time Edward, not so out of control. Normal dates. Starting at the beginning again."
"The beginning?" But that had been a poem, and poems were off-limits. For now, anyway, his id whispered sneakily.
"You know, first base, second base, all that."
Oh, that sort of beginning. Shit, first base was just kissing. No, he could do it - he would do it, for Bella. He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly.
Alice grinned. "OK, I've witnessed the deal. Now what about the Charlie problem? May I suggest a three-pronged assault? You work on Charlie Bella, Carlisle vouches for Edward, and his therapist too if need be."
"I can sort Charlie." Bella was confident. "But you'd better stay out of his way at first Edward, you're not his favorite person."
Alice stood up. "Right. Well, negotiations successfully concluded I'd say. Off you go kids, I want to get changed. Remember - first base only!" She grinned. "I'll have your clothes ready soon Bella."
They lay on his bed, kissing and holding each other. Edward figured that first base didn't specify whether you were horizontal or vertical, and Bella wasn't feeling very well. He nibbled down her jawline and under her ear and tried desperately to stop his hands from roving. Did first base include over-the-clothes touching? Damn, he needed to get onto Wikipedia and check it out.
He rolled her on top of him, taking her lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it gently, his hands twined in her hair. God it was good, he'd longed to hold her and kiss her like this for so long. He deepened the kiss, his eyes closing, and moaned into her mouth as their tongues caressed each other.
Alice found them an hour later, fully clothed, asleep in each other's arms. She left Bella's things and tiptoed out again.
Another month and Edward was feeling rather less philosophical. He'd seen three chick flicks and one action adventure so bad it was headed for classic B-movie fame. The content of the movies didn't really matter since they spent most of the time necking in the back row. And necking in the car, and in his room, and behind the buildings at school.
Not that they didn't talk as well, they did - and spent a lot of time reading or listening to music and doing homework together. You couldn't kiss the entire time, your lips would disintegrate. He found that he liked the chatting and low-key mooching about together. Bella was smart and funny and he liked her, which was excellent as he was in love with her so liking her was an added bonus. And she seemed to like him too.
But the kisses were getting pretty intense these days and there were downsides. Both his and Bella's lips were sore and bee-stung. On Bella it looked good but Emmett teased him remorselessly with pouty kissy faces and Edward had noticed one of the school's metrosexuals eyeing him with interest. His balls were permanently blue and he was the world beat-off champion. He hoped the Victorians hadn't been right about the going blind thing. If so, he'd be tapping around with a white cane any day now.
He was dreaming of second base. Breasts preoccupied him - Bella's in particular of course, but he saw them everywhere. Well, they were everywhere, fifty percent of the population being female, so that was an added torment.
Every round thing was a breast to him now, he was so far gone. Apples, oranges, pumpkins. Melons were especially difficult, with the connotations. He'd had to avoid the produce section of the supermarket for a while now. But there were rounded things everywhere - balls, globes of the earth at school, balloons, goldfish bowls - it was endless.
Edward realised he'd signed on to this agreement to traverse the bases in slow-mo without a clear time-frame. Still, that should mean it was negotiable. Finally one morning at breakfast when he found he'd lined up two boiled eggs in eggcups side by side and was staring at them breathing hard, he decided it was time to talk to Bella.
They were in his room after school later that day, finishing their homework. Edward was too pent-up to wait any longer so he teased Bella who was sprawled on the rug on her stomach, chewing her pen over a calculus problem. He lay across her scribblings and stroked the side of her face, his fingers caressing her neck and continuing further than usual, down to the valley between her breasts which were pressed deliciously together and peeking through the neck of her blouse above her propped arms.
"Edward, get off my homework!"
But she was arching into his touch and her breathing hitched a little as his hand slid lower.
"I can't concentrate," he whispered, throaty. "All I can think about is your breasts Bella. They're in my dreams day and night."
He raised his arm and slid his fingers into her thick dark hair, pulling her face down to him and running his tongue across her lips. Her mouth opened and their tongues danced softly together, then he rolled her and lay on top, straddling her left leg so that his thigh pressed into her groin and his rapidly stiffening cock rubbed against her thigh as he moved deliberately against her.
He kissed the base of her throat in the open neck of her blouse, moaning into her soft skin and inhaling her. She smelled so good he could hardly stand it.
"Please," he whispered into her cleavage. "Please Bella, second base, oh please."
He curled over her and cupped her left breast in his hand, breathing hot air on the peak until it swelled and hardened then taking her nipple into his mouth through the thin cotton of her shirt, pulling on it with his lips and biting it gently.
Bella moaned and pressed up against him. "Ohhhh Edward. Have you been a good boy then? Do you deserve this?"
"Yes baby yes." He could barely speak, his voice was thick. "I've been so good love, so good...but I can do better." He moved his attentions to her right breast, squeezing the soft mound and worrying at her nipple with his lips. "So much better..." he promised her, whispering, hoarse, his hips moving more urgently as he fucked her thigh.
"Oh yes, oh Edward..." Bella was gasping and pressing up hard against his leg. "Yes, second base."
"But please Bella, not just under your clothes - let me see you." He was unbuttoning her blouse as he murmured this and she did nothing to stop him. He reached around and she arched her back up so that he could reach her bra and undo it. Not easy but he was highly motivated and unhooked it on the second try. He pulled one strap down and off her arm through the armhole of her blouse then pushed the pink lace aside, her breasts spilling out into his hands. Pressing them together he buried his face in her cleavage, then licked and sucked on her nipples, his mouth moving from one to the other as he moaned and rubbed himself against her.
"Bella," Edward whispered. "A poem to celebrate second base?"
Her eyes shot open and she stiffened under him.
He kissed the corner of her mouth and her nose. "No it's fine. Not one of mine. I think you'll have a much milder reaction if I just say someone else's poem. Besides all I could find were brief snippets. It'll be OK."
She relaxed again. "Well, alright, but be careful."
He kissed her softly again, teasing her nipples with his fingers. "This is what I've been dreaming the last few weeks."
"Imagination shows me all your charms,
The plenteous silken hair, and waxen arms,
The well turned neck, and snowy rising breast
And all the beauties that supinely rest
between your sheets."
As he said "snowy rising breast" he bent and squeezed her breast, licking it lovingly then holding his mouth over the peak and speaking around it as he said the last lines. He felt the vibration from his speech in his lips and tongue against her nipple and Bella groaned and arched her back, gripping his ass and pulling him down onto her.
They thrust more rapidly against each other and he shifted a little so that his cock was pressing more directly into her groin. The pleasure was intense, and Bella gasped under him.
"And this is what I've so wanted to do..."
"Display thy breasts, my Bella, there let me
Behold that circummortal purity;
Between whose glories, there my lips I'll lay"
Robert Herrick had talked of Julia, but Edward was sure he wouldn't object to him inserting Bella's name - the poet was clearly a man after his own heart. As he said the last line he began pressing kisses down her cleavage, then up to her peaks, swirling his tongue round her nipples as he cupped and squeezed her pale soft wonderful breasts.
My girls he thought lovingly, nuzzling his face between them again. Oh, how I've missed you.
They were both breathing raggedly, their hips moving urgently now. He slid his hand down and pressed her skirt in between her legs as they parted for him. Pushing his fingers up he caressed her clit through her clothes, stroking and flicking it through the layers of gauzy cotton as Bella moaned and thrust hard against him.
His mouth was hot on her breast as he sucked and then bit down gently and he felt Bella tremble against his hand, shuddering under him as she came. Moving his hand to grip her ass and press her harder to him he ground his swollen cock erratically against her, grunting helplessly around her breast in his mouth as he spilled deliciously hot and wet into his jeans.
They lay there panting, then Bella murmured "That may have gone a little beyond second base..." and suddenly they were cracking up, snorting hysterically into each other's necks.
Rounding the Bases
They didn't manage to hold out very long at second base. Not that Edward minded renewing a thorough acquaintance with Bella's breasts, but it was desperately hard (in every sense) to stop there and not get completely carried away.
Bella's lips got slightly less swollen but his own were still getting an extensive daily workout and Emmett was still ribbing him. It was a relief though to be able to eat fruit again without fondling it or pitching a tent.
After a couple of weeks they planned the transition to third base. Edward knew that he was going to steal fourth and he figured Bella had also accepted the inevitable. She was finding it just as difficult to handle all the breast stimulation and had a slightly frantic air about her.
Charlie was to be away overnight at a weekend course on management skills for senior officers. He grumbled endlessly but couldn't get out of it. Bella ostensibly made arrangements to sleep over with Alice, but in fact they planned to return to her home and have the place to themselves.
Finally it was Saturday. Bella had insisted he not come over until dinner time as she wanted to prepare a special meal for them. Edward was touched but the only dinner he really wanted was Bella herself, his thoughts filled with memories of her taste, her lush smell and the feel of his fingers inside her.
But of course he would give her the romantic evening she wanted - it would make loving her afterwards all the sweeter. He bought more condoms in anticipation. Why Carlisle had confiscated his previous supply was beyond him - surely they wanted him to be safe? He sighed and briefly wondered again what had become of the Bondage Kit. Probably in the trash, sadly. For a brief moment he imagined the tables turned with Bella tying him down and tormenting him with her lips and her small, clever hands. But no, those days were behind them, thank goodness. He tried to suppress his cock which was saluting vigorously. Down boy.
The house smelled wonderful when he arrived and Bella had set the kitchen table with a cloth and candles, a bowl of roses in the centre and Debussy playing softly in the background. It was enchiladas, one of his favorites, and they sat close to each other playing footsies under the table and intermittently leaning in to feed one another delicious bites and then kiss.
Dessert was tiramisu but after a few spoonfuls he couldn't wait any longer. She was utterly lovely in the candlelight, wearing a clinging low-cut blue top, her breasts round and exposed. Oh God, she wasn't wearing a bra and he could see her nipples standing out through the soft stretch fabric. And she had on his favorite flouncy white skirt. He wondered what underwear she was wearing tonight - perhaps a lacy thong? Shivering with anticipation he reached out and traced her cheek, then took a scoop of tiramisu on his finger and offered it to her. She leaned forward, cleavage dark and tempting, and took his finger into her mouth, sucking the creamy sweetness and continuing to slide her lips up and down his finger several times, eyes locked on his as he licked his lips, his mouth open, heat building in his groin.
Edward stood up and pulled Bella into his arms. He kissed her, tasting coffee and sweetness, then turned her around, pressing her back against him and sliding his hands down into her clinging top, taking her breasts and lifting them out then holding and stroking them with both hands, kissing and biting her neck and the hollow under her ear as his thumbs flicked across her nipples.
Bella moaned and reached back, gripping his ass and pulling them tightly together. He gripped her left breast and pressed his right hand into her crotch, holding her mound and thrusting his erection into her soft cheeks. A growl ripped from his throat and she groaned in reply. Upstairs, he had to get her upstairs now or he'd fucking take her there on the table in the remains of dinner.
But Bella had taken his hand and was drawing him into the living room which was lit only by a standard lamp with a scarf thrown over it, muting the light. He saw that the floor in front of the television was filled with quilts and bedding.
"Planning ahead I see" he whispered, his voice deep and rough.
"My bed's so narrow Edward. I thought we might need a bit more...room to move..."
Christ that was hot. He was hard as granite and his brain replayed all the fantasies he'd ever had about fucking her in this room. The sofa was between them and the love nest she'd made and suddenly he couldn't wait any longer. He took her hands and put them on the sofa's back, pushing her down so that she was bent forward, her legs straight and back slightly concave. Reaching around he pushed her top up and freed her breasts again, squeezing them, then ran one hand down her stomach and gripped her crotch again through the skirt, holding her tightly and pressing his cock into her ass.
He leaned back and lifted her skirt, pushing it up to her waist. Oh fuck, she was naked under it, her round ass smooth and pale and her cunt open for him. "So many times I've imagined this Bella" he whispered in her ear, kissing and biting the back of her neck as she gasped and pressed her buttocks back at him.
Edward nudged her feet further apart with his knee and slid his hand down her belly and in between her legs. She was wet and ready and she moved on his hand as he curled his fingers into her and fucked her, then slid them around her clit, then back into her cunt again. His left hand was kneading her breasts and he pushed his aching cock against her butt as he pumped his fingers into her.
She came then, sobbing his name, wet and wanting on his fingers, and he grabbed the foil package from his pocket as he fumbled open his belt and pushed his pants down in a frenzy, letting go of her reluctantly as he rolled on the condom then grabbing her again and pressing her down before him once more. He took his cock and slid into her, thrusting hard and deep, groaning helplessly and shuddering with joy as her hot wet cunt enfolded him. It was unspeakably good, better than any fantasy.
He was beyond all rational thought, one arm tight around her waist and the other braced on the back of the sofa, bent over her sweet ass as he pumped himself into her, grunting and cursing as she cried out again and bucked on his cock. He felt her contract around him and his legs trembled as he rammed himself into her, pleasure exploding as he thrust uncontrollably. He collapsed across her, the sofa holding them up as they clung to each other, panting. Edward moved softly a few more times as the pleasure ebbed then withdrew reluctantly, grabbing some tissues from an end table to deal with the condom.
He took her in his arms, kissing her softly, then hard and passionate. Oh fuck he loved her so much. "Love you, oh Bella..." Edward kissed her neck, holding her close, pants and boxers pooled around his ankles.
"One of your favorite fantasies huh?" She smirked up at him, running her hands up the back of his thighs and gripping his bare ass cheeks, making his cock twitch again. "I have to admit it's been one of mine too."
He grinned and pulled her top off as she undid his shirt. They undressed each other properly and slid into the makeshift bed, kissing and caressing under the quilt.
"No poems to celebrate tonight then Edward?" she teased him.
"There are always poems love. I was planning ahead too you know."
He twined his hand in the dark curling hair of her mound, damp with her juices, sliding his finger into her slit, whispering into her neck. "This is by a medieval Welsh poet, a woman actually..."
"...the sheltered pussy, sheer bounty,
tender-plump, eager-worn circle,
where I love robustly,
the pussy under the skirt."
Bella writhed under his touch, pressing up to meet his fingers as they teased her entrance. "Edward, oh please, oh I love you...yes there...just there..."
"Oh God yes Bella, I love your pussy" Edward groaned, pushing his fingers into her as his thumb caressed her swollen clit.
"....And this, from the Song of Songs..." He kissed her, then ran his nose down her cheek, speaking the last poem, his lips and tongue tracing her body as the lovely ancient words directed.
"...the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman"
He kissed the hollows of her hips, the tops of her soft thighs.
"Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies"
Moving to tongue her navel and swirl kisses round her stomach as she sighed and thrust on his hand, her eyes closed as sensation filled her.
"...Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies"
He took her nipples in his mouth one by one, suckling like a baby as he curled his fingers and pressed them deep inside her, making her moan and buck her hips.
"Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense"
He moved back down again, spreading her and tasting her musky incense as he pleasured her with his lips and tongue.
And so they passed the night - loving and drowsing, talking sleepily, giggling and tickling then urgent again, Edward whispering hot nothings as he slid home into his Bella.
Until the day broke, and the shadows fled away.