AN: Thanks to dazzlingrockstar for betaing this chapter.


Between the summit of emotion, brought by the joy of a love rediscovered, and the platitude of the fairy-tale epilogue, there is much left untold. No reader ever knew of the tears shed over the prejudice of uncompromising souls, the clash of strong personalities trying to co-exist, the wonders of a blooming sexuality or the challenges of reconciling the past and the present. Those details were too personal to be disclosed to the public. They got the sugar coated version of a far more complex reality.

However, Isabella kept a journal where she recorded the difficulties of building a relationship outside the paradigms of a judgemental society. Without inhibition or editing, she dropped her defences, allowing the truth of her heart to show. Those were the words of the true Isabella; a woman that loved, feared and hoped. Those words weren't meant as a cathartic exercise. It was a gift meant for an anniversary; one that she had no way of knowing if it would ever come to pass.

For once, Isabella decided to be brave and trust in the gods of fate, after all, the harpies had been generous of late – they had guided her one true love back into her arms.

...

"In the aftermath of our lovemaking, as I guard your serene sleep, a multitude of doubts assail my mind, making my heart constrict painfully within my chest. My eyes sting with tears of fear. I couldn't bear to lose you after learning the weight of your body and the fire of your passion. 'What happens now?' my mind keeps asking. I wish I had the answer but, from now on, you hold all the cards. Agony or ecstasy ... it's your choice, your gift or your curse. I'm powerless to stop the pounding of my heart or the blurring of my mind because, it's all for you.

My whole being thrums with the need to crawl inside your skin and consume your very soul because, only then would I have the certainty that I would get to keep you with me ... forever ... always. Making love has always been a practiced dance of graceful movements but not with you. Yearning, as ancient as time, and desire, as fierce as a horde of barbarians, ravaged my self-control, leaving behind only a writhing mass of unsatisfied lust.

Behold the demise of Rosalie Hale, the femme-fatale who bends to no-one. Once again, I'm reduced to being Isabella Swan; the one with the unrequited love for the beautiful girl who used to be her friend. Who are you now? How has your life been like? How do I fit into your future? Do we even have one?"

.

.

.

.

.

She was relaxing on the fragrant daisy sprinkled meadow of her hometown. Her naked body no longer bore the marks of two pregnancies. She was a much younger version of herself; her skin smooth and her breasts perky. Though her eyes were closed, Alice felt the presence of someone hovering over her. Whoever it was had the body of a goddess. Alice felt the brush of bountiful breasts against her own. Moaning at the soft caress, she was unprepared for the erotic attack, of a tongue exploring her most hidden depths. Her eyes shot open and her foggy mind slowly comprehended that, Isabella had been making love to her for a while.

Unwilling to be the only beneficiary of Isabella's efforts, Alice rose to her knees and pushed Isabella down. The sight of the beautiful woman laid completely bare before her, fuelled Alice's lust to unbearable levels; awakening the desire to claim her lover; to mark her, the same way she had been branded by Isabella's touch. She needed to stake her claim, to make sure that Isabella understood the depth of her commitment.

She had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to do but no clue of how she should go about it. Being inexperienced in the art of loving a woman, Alice had nothing but theoretical knowledge of what transpired between females. Last night being the only exception but Isabella had been in charge then. Blushing furiously, she sent a pleading look to Isabella, who found herself in the uncomfortable position of trying to coax an honest response out of a shy lover. Taking a deep breath, Isabella broached the awkward subject.

"Baby, look at me. There is no need to be shy, we are lovers. We have to be able to communicate. Do you have any experience in making love to a woman?"

"You are the only woman I've ever been with." Alice's answer was shy and hesitant – another proof of her lack of experience.

Possessiveness robbed Isabella of all reason because there was no feeling as heady as introducing your lover to the pleasures of a different kind of lovemaking. Straddling Alice, Isabella kissed her with the ferocity of an aroused predator, heightening their pleasure by brushing her nipples against Alice's rosy peaks. By the time the kiss ended, both women were panting and desperate with the need to find completion. Unleashed from the constraints of shame and awkwardness, Alice discovered that she had a bit of a devil within herself. Isabella wasn't the only one with a fondness for dirty talking.

"I want to feel your pussy against mine and your legs around my hips. I want us to ride each other, until I feel you dripping down your thighs. Scissoring, Baby, that's what I want from you."

Usually, Isabella wasn't turned on by lewd talk, unless she was the one doing it. Her preferred style was young, sweet and small breasted women who had tight cunts. The creature before her was an antithesis of that woman, to whom none of her lovers could ever compare and yet she was more alluring than anyone had a right to be.

Groaning loudly, Isabella abandoned herself to the sweet delight of having Alice one more time. It was a desperate attempt at keeping reality from intruding, pushing away the unpleasant conversation that they couldn't entirely avoid. If the worst came to pass, the memory of loving Alice in bright sunlight would have to be enough, to warm Isabella for a lifetime and beyond.


Don't be shy - leave a review.