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The Angel

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Edward touches her gently, so softly. She's never experienced anything like it. And the way he says her name – all four syllables – is reverent. She can't believe he's only been with a woman once before. The almost imperceptible brush of his hand along her body as their lips connect is unbearable. She sighs. His fingers find her soft folds. . .

As he slips inside of her it is not heated, not rushed . . . just smooth and gentle . . . a continuation of the tender passion that has grown between them. There is no abrupt change of pace, just pure bliss as he moves within her and a deep warmth blossoms between them. He caresses her cheek as he looks tenderly into her eyes. This feels meant to be. For both of them.

As he takes her to the precipice, her climax is gentle too . . . she had no idea it could be like this as her warm wetness engulfs him. He moans into her neck as he holds her tight, holding himself back until she finishes . . . and as she comes down he fills her with his own warmth. They lay shaking in each other's arms when it is over.

But Edward's not just shaking from the climax. Tentatively he looks up at her, fear swimming in his chocolate brown eyes. "Isabella? Are you alive?"

"Yes, Edward, I survived," she says and tries not to chuckle. She knows that's a serious question. It's why she is here.