Attention; we have a lot of dark Edward why not very dark Bella. She is not Dom. She is just different and complicated.
This story about; Romance and life, Erotic.
Warning: Contains sexually explicit content. NC-17.
Please don't read it if you are not under age of 18 . and if you are not like this kind of stories.
Ps; everything belonged to the writer of twilight. Only this story line is belong to me.
Chapter one: I'm the one
Women's, there are many kinds of them in the world we living. They are ugly, aggressive and hostile, or there are the beautiful, loving and friendly. Sometimes the beautiful may also turn out to be hostile, but only rarely do the ugly turn out to be friendly.
Here Edward was with this strange woman in front of him and he became her slave.
As she stared at him, she point her finger at him so Edward came to lay on the floor in front of her. And he did what she instructed to do for he was flat on his back and still completely helpless.
She wanted him fully awake and aware of everything that was about to happen to him. She was naked. Her red robes had disappeared. She no longer wore them, yet they were nowhere to be seen in that room. He was paralyzed by her mind.
She stand, fascinated , at his throbbing hardness as she sits on him, almost forgetting that Edwards need to breath from time to time. Bella wiggled and squeezed and make sure that her own sexual were stimulated to the maximum.
When she had her orgasm. And when she had finished after many hours, she held his head between her legs, pressed against her while she stroked his hair gently.
Bella was attractive and desirable, she was well aware of that, and any single man as well as a good many married ones would jump at the chance of being with her if she gave them the opportunity.
No, it did not have to be him, but he was here, he was familiar .he was convenient.
"Its sleep time for you," she said quietly.
He opened his eyes wide in surprise.
She did not explain. She just stands and beckoned him to follow her up stairs.
Bella made Edward into what she had always wanted, without a thought for him and without a twinge of conscience.
He became a prisoner, a toy, a play thing for her pleasure, and without the slightest regard for his anger that turned to pleading, begging, sobbing and, finally, humiliated acceptance, she never once let him out of that room or down those stairs.
His suffering was her new life. And it was so convenient.
He was so beautiful, he was asleep and his face a glow of subconscious contentment. Messy bronze hair against his pillow, and still he looked so irresistible. He had his right, and she pretended to have hers.
But now?
She stand. Sound asleep and quiet by his side as her gaze drifted, wondering, wondering right down to his lips, plump and chin. Oh yes, his lips.
Her quivering finger hovered hesitantly above his face, gently tasting the warm breath from his nostrils. Her mouth dried and her larynx became tight. It was all she could do, pulley every little vestige of effort inside her to restrain herself.
It was too much, her diaphragm pushing against her throat as she slid up, positioning herself, lifting a naked leg like dog about to pee.
It was now. It had to be now, and without so much as a moment of hesitation she relaxed her torso onto his sleeping face.
He wake.
Her steaming vagina wrapped around his mouth and nose, those beautiful green eyes opened wide and innocent, and he stared. He stared up, as if trapped under a levia than, he stared up to the bottom of her chin to where she looked down and smirk as his expressions. He stared as far as her eyes, but no further. He hates her.
"What?"
And then she let it go, like a snake. The jerk was immediate, and every muscle in his body flexed in extreme fear. Release and he was silent. And she screamed.
