A/N:

* Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans! Let us give thanks for Robward, dirty porn filled Fanfics and the ability to imagine all the dirty fucking these stories hold, and keeping both hands on the keyboard even though we clearly let our hand wander southward till we catch ourselves...

*This chapter is...interesting...*evil laugh*

*Thanks for Rec. this story. However, I have lost readers. If it continues, this story WILL BE DUMPED.

*Thank you, Susie...For everything. This chapter is for you my fucking amazing Beta, you!


WHAT A WICKED GAME WE PLAY

7.

*RATED NC-17 *

The world was on fire,
and, no one could save me but you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
And I never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.

No, I don't want to fall in love
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
No, I don't want to fall in love
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
With you
[This world is only gonna break your heart]


-(*)-

*E_D_W_A_R_D*

-(*)-

"You're going to keep quiet about it, Angie. Goddamn it, why does this have to happen now?" I ran my hand through my hair and squeezed the index cards in my hands. "They are probably in there making out or something, Ang."

"Edward," Angie said, wringing her hands and closing her eyes. "She begged me for help, Edward."

"Well, you are not helping anyone, right now. You are not going to wreck this for me, Angela. I've come too far for this to be fucked up by something that probably is nothing, anyway!" I told her harshly, loosening her hands free from each other and pulling her chin up.

She opened her eyes at my touch, which showed the reflection of tears.

"Please, Angie. I'm sure it's nothing. If it is anything like that, somebody will come along and stop it. This is my night! I need you to know how much this means to me," I coaxed her, smiling to reassure her that this was the right thing to do.

She looked at me for a long moment, and then nodded slowly.

"You're right. It's probably someone playing a joke," she said, casting a look over her shoulder toward the rooms in the back. "A very unfunny joke."

"Now," Charlie Swan said into the podium. "Our distinguished honoree tonight, Edward Masen, would like to say a few words. Edward," Charlie addressed me, motioning to the microphone.

I smiled at Angie, then turned to Charlie and headed onto the stage, my index cards in my hands. Charlie put his hand out for me to shake, and I took it, returning the firm pressure.

"Congratulations, Son. Well done!" he said, letting my hand go and moving aside for me to step to the microphone.

"Thank you, Mr. Swan. This award," I started, looking out into the crowd of people gathered in the vast lobby, "is what I have been waiting for my entire profession. Not only is it the key to my future as an artist, it is also the signature of the next level of artistry. I am proud to announce, that this award will be posted in the lobby of my new studio, Luck of the Draw!"

I waited for the crowd's applause to die down before I started again.

"I want to thank Mr. Swan for his belief in me, and for the nomination. Thank you to all who have recommended my work and have contributed to this evening's festivity. Thank you!"

I walked away from the mic, and was shaking Mr. Swan's hand again, when a blood curdling scream echoed into the lobby, the voice filled with panic.

"BELLA?" Charlie Swan roared as a figure came running from the back….

I sat straight up in bed, the sweat gathering and rolling down my face as I struggled to maintain proper breathing. I raked my hand through my wet, sticky hair and exhaled sharply. My head was pounding, and I felt as if I had been riding way to many rollercoasters all at one time.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered softly. "I gotta stop dreaming that shit."

I looked down at myself and pulled the comforter off of my legs. How the hell had I gotten into bed? I didn't remember much, but I knew I didn't take my own clothes off, all the way down to my boxers, and hop in bed. I turned to the nightstand beside the bed and nearly growled. The red LCD numbers flashed 2:35 am. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, ran my hand over my face, and stood.

"Oh, shit," I muttered, feeling the room spin and blur. "This can't be a good sign."

After steadying myself, I walked to the end of the bed and picked up my jeans and put them on, followed by my black shirt. As I slipped the shirt over my head, I got a whiff of a sweet scent. I lifted the inside of the shirt to my nose and inhaled the smell, letting it drown out the pounding in my head, and the blurring of reality around me. I knew the smell, which was orchid and a bit of paint mixed in.

"Bella," I whispered, letting the shirt go.

I walked to the light switch on the wall, and flicked it on. Scanning the room, especially the bed, and not seeing her, I groaned and flicked it back off.

"Damn!" I exclaimed. "Not that lucky, huh?" I said, tapping the crotch of my pants and laughing. "You're losing it, Masen."

I exited my room and headed down to the bathroom to get a few Tylenol from the medicine cabinet, popped them into my mouth and swallowed them without water. I padded my bare feet into the hall and down the stairs to the studio. If I was up, I may as well try to concentrate on what I was going to be showing the public later today. I knew I had no time to paint another painting, so it was time to rethink…

At least, if this headache stopped pounding long enough.

I was just about to open my studio door, when the sound of faint music echoed from the break room.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, turning toward the sound and following it until I was outside the break room, where the lights were on.

Inside, Emmett, whose back was facing away from me, was flipping a sandwich out of the small sandwich maker on the counter. The radio, perched on top of the refrigerator, was belting out a REO Speedwagon tune.

"Emmett, what the hell are you doing here?" I asked loudly, scaring him and causing Em to drop the sandwich he was transferring onto the tiled floor.

"Aww, come on, Ed! First, my goddamn cookies, and now my grilled queso! You bastard," he said, reaching down and picking it up from the floor and placing it on the plate. "Good news is that wasn't mine. Bad news is it's yours."

"Turn the fucking radio off, Emmett," I muttered, placing my head in my hands and groaning. "Fucking soft rock shit."

"…And I can't fight this feeling anymorreeeeee…" Emmett sung loudly, reaching over to turn the radio up even louder. "I love this song so fuckin' much."

I reached over to the plug in which the radio was getting its power, and yanked the cord out, causing the radio to fall off the fridge and onto the floor with a crack. Emmett's eyes narrowed.

"Either you're not a REO fan, or you are one destructive son-of-a-bitch," Emmett said, flopping the plate down in front of me. "Enjoy your floor cheese."

"You still didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

I pushed the plate away and leaned my elbows on the table. Emmett sat down across from me, munching on the corner of his freshly made sandwich and shrugged.

"You got drunk, you stupid ass. For the sake of it, let me tell you that you are also a jealous, mind-fucked man," he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Bella called me to pick your ass up."

"Bella called you?" I asked, my eyes widening in surprise. "Wait…you have to fill me in on all this, Em."

"You don't remember?" he raised his eyebrow at me, swallowing the sandwich section in his mouth. "You're a lot more fucked up than I thought. Incidentally, you are an asshole for throwing up on my leather seats. Now my car will reek for weeks!"

"I can't remember much. I remember bits and pieces." I shrugged. "I remember the jealousy part," I added with shame. "Your car is a piece of shit, Emmett. My throw up made an improvement, trust me."

"Well, envy-Eddy, she called me. Well, she called the shop, and said that you were 'inebriated out of your mind'- her words, not mine-and to come pick you up, that you were sitting on her couch falling asleep." Em smiled, leaning back in the chair and taking another bite. "And, fuck you about my car," he added, swallowing.

"Wipe that smug look off your face, Emmett. What did she say when you showed up?" I asked. "And I didn't piss myself, did I?"

Last time I got drunk, I pissed my pants, effectively warding off female attention, which giggled and nodded to my saturated dick cover. I groaned just at the thought, and I knew Em was waiting to burst out laughing at me.

He didn't, as his face was suddenly serious.

"She was really upset about it, actually. Not pissing your pants, but that would have been hilarious. No, she just seemed oddly quiet." He shrugged. "I can't explain it, Edward."

"Well, what did she say when she wasn't 'oddly quiet?'"

"She said you yelled at her about this," he said, reaching into his jeans pocket, pulled out something and passed it over the table.

I picked it up, realizing it was the photo of her and Mike that I had resented enough to get drunk over. My eyes lifted away from the photo, and I flipped it upside down on the table.

"Fuck," I whispered, closing my eyes. "I'm such a fucking asshole!"

"Don't look at me to object to your little epiphany. I agree," Em said. He looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then sighed. "She's in love with you, you dope. Why are you fucking things up with this?" He pointed to the picture. "And the fact you resent it that you can't touch her without her freaking out."

"She told you that? That she's in love with me?"

"She didn't have to, Edward. I could see it written all over her face when she helped me get you in my car," he replied, leaning forward again. "By the way, you told her I was an idiot, but I know more about her feelings than you do, and you're in love with her, thus making you the idiot."

"I yelled at her," I said, running my hand through my hair. "She probably thinks I'm a scumbag now."

"She would be right, but I really don't think so. She was more concerned that you wouldn't make it home."

"So?"

"So? Women are vindictive creatures, Edward. If she thought you were a jealous, alcohol-induced idiot, she wouldn't have called me to pick your ass up. She would have gladly made you wobble home," Emmett smiled, shaking his head.

"Did she say anything before you drove me home and played house with my intoxicated body?" I wiggled my eyes suggestively at him. "My boxers were the only thing on, Emmett…"

"Ew. I'm your brother, not your cousin-daddy-uncle-in-law," he said, shivering at the mental picture. "She said she had finals in the morning, and that she needed sleep. She also told me to tell you that she will call you and tell you how it went," Emmett added, finishing off his grilled cheese.

"Fuck!" I shouted, hitting my palm against my pounding head "Ouch!"

"Dumb ass."

"Her finals are tomorrow, and I just wasted her time that she could have been studying!" I groaned.

Emmett remained silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat.

"What?"

"She told me you told her about Angie…and 'fucking her' because she's blackmailing you about something," Emmett said slowly, trying hard not to meet my gaze. "Is this true, Edward? Are you fucking her because she has something against you?"

I met his gaze and nodded. "Do you really think I'd fuck her for the pleasure of it? She's like an automatic erection killer when she walks into the fucking room, and I told Bella that. Jesus Christ," I moaned rubbing my eyes roughly.

"What does Ang have against you, Edward? Why do you feel the need to wreck the chick?" he asked.

"Em, no offense, but you would never understand it. And, for the record, I no longer wish to fuck her. But Angie isn't finished here, Emmett. You know that. Bella isn't going to give me chances anymore. I was drunk and, by your account, verbally abusive to her. Right there is a strike," I sighed, slumping down in the seat.

Emmett sighed, and then looked at me seriously, his eyes reflecting understanding.

"Edward?" he asked.

"What?"

"Whatever shit you are in, if you care an ounce about her, you will end it. I'm not just talking about the Angie stuff. You have to be smarter than this. You can lie to me, and pretend I am just an idiot and won't understand, but I can bet that she won't want to hear that shit when it finally does come out," he said, sighing and slumping back in his seat.

I was silent a moment, and then I nodded. "I know," I whispered.

"Good. Now that I said all I had to say, I just have one more question…" He trailed off.

"No, you can't undress me again," I laughed. "No, seriously."

"Ha-ha, you amuse me," he said, mocking a laugh. "Mind if I eat that?" He pointed to the sandwich he dropped earlier.

"Ew, Emmett. Just….ew."

"Five second rule!" he said, reaching for the plate, grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite. "Still good!"

I shook my head and got up from the table, my head spinning slightly.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower. Again, you can't join me, Emmett," I laughed, walking from the lounge area. "Enjoy your shit cheese. I hope you know Mrs. Stanley's evil pussy cat shit there the other day. Enjoy!" I said, laughing, as Emmett began to spit out the grilled cheese.

I stopped halfway down the dark hall, and slipped my hand into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out the photo I had discreetly slipped off the table earlier; the picture of Bella and Mike. I positioned myself in the small shaft of light coming from the lounge, and tore the photo in half. I discarded the half bearing Mike onto the floor, and kept the part with Bella, tucking it back into my pocket.

A few minutes later, I was stepping under the hot water of the shower, letting it run over my head to soothe the aching, dull pain. I sighed as I stood there, my muscles seemingly relaxing with the slight pressure of the water. I thought back to what I could remember from earlier, the bits and spots lacing my mind like a tourniquet. I could remember only small parts, like telling her I resented her hesitation in my advances to touch her, and also, though something about it seemed off, her assurance that her…problem had nothing to do with anything related to something happening to her. I trusted her completely, hell, I was fucking fawning over her, and so I didn't really question her at all.

Emmett had said she told him I was yelling at her. I never would have done that if I had not been drunk and stupidly jealous. The fact that I couldn't remember all I said to her bothered me. All I wanted, really, was to tell her about what had happened with Angie, and what will never happen with her again. I closed my eyes and tried to visualize Bella behind the darkened state of my eyelids. It wasn't hard, since she was in nearly every waking dream and daydream these days. I just wanted to see her again, all her beautiful features and immaculate milky skin.

I could see the full lips; the bottom lip slightly larger than the top, and her eyes, which nearly always reflected innocence and warmth. I groaned mentally as my mind drew a straight line down the skin of her milky throat, and to the swell of her breasts. They were not large, but this didn't entice me away from wanting to feel them. I could feel the slight extraction my hard cock made as my imagery of her continued.

"Fuck," I muttered, placing my forehead against the shower wall as my balls throbbed, sending signals to my mind that I had to take care of this if I didn't want to wear a dick-tent integrated with my pants. I had to whack-the-weasel, clear the pipes, wrench the monkey

As the exploration of her body enthralled me, and my mind wandered down her flat belly to the small V between her legs, the will in me broke.

"Shit," I murmured, reaching down to take my hard dick in my hand, feeling the slippery, warm velvet of the head in my palm. The sensation of my fingers on my own hard cock made the tightening of my balls shoot fire upward, its warmth enticing me further, filling my belly and causing the aching need to become more intense.

I took my index and middle finger on the top, and my thumb on the bottom, and lightly stoked downward, grunting at the feel of it as I imagined her without her clothing. As I imagined the possibilities of what her pubic region looked like, and what it would look like with my fingers buried deep into her folds, her warm juices flowing over my fingers, I glided my way back up the slippery, pulsating hardness and groaned out loud as my fingers grazed the sensitive head. I passed up and down the length several times before the sensation of the frictional pulling became too strong. I took my thumb and pressed lightly into the velvety head, the slight touch echoing down my hard shaft and into my already tight and twitching ball sac.

"Fuuuucckkkk," I breathed as the wet tip of my cock pulsated twice before the release squirted against the shower wall and washed down the drain. "Ah, fuck," I grinded from between my teeth. I had bitten down on my lip, causing a bit of blood to seep. Tasting the iron of my blood in my mouth, I let go of my now soft penis, and put my hands on either side of my head, which still rested on the shower wall. My breathing began to slow into normal breaths, and my eyes opened lazily. The sexual tension that built up was insatiable now. The power of the orgasm with just the visual of her excited me beyond words. I turned, and pressed my back against the wall and closed my eyes once again.

"What are you doing to me?" I whispered to myself as the water pounded around me.

I opened my eyes and looked over at the commode, where I had rid my clothing, and spied my jeans. I turned and reached over, diving into its pocket to retrieve the photo of Bella. As the water fell over the picture, I lifted my hand and stroked photographed Bella's hair and smiled.

"I love what you do to me," I whispered, still feeling the lingering of the orgasm. "Love it…I want more."

-(*)-

*B_E_L_L_A*

What a wicked game to play;
To make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do;
To let me dream of you.
What a wicked thing to say;
You never felt this way.
What a wicked thing to do;
To make me dream of you.

And I don't want to fall in love
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
And I don't want to fall in love
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
With you

-(*)-

I looked down at the box and frowned. Phil had given it to me as soon as I walked in. It was white and the size of a small cigar box. Looking at the clock above the room's only door, I sighed and lowered my gaze back to the box. I had five minutes before finals started, and although I was both exhausted and nervous, I could not wait for this day to be over. Charlie Swan's failure of a daughter would be flunked, and the proud, jubilant artist would pretend he didn't have a daughter who sucked ass at art; a perpetual waste of sperm.

I reached my hands out to lift the small lid, taking care not to crack the delicate wood as I sat it beside the box on the easel ledge. I pushed back the white tissue paper that flowed languidly from it, and gasped at what was inside.

"It's beautiful," I murmured softly, lifting the item from the box and stroking it.

In my hands was a high end, very expensive artist's watercolor brush. The white oak of the handle was hand-carved, the words embossed with my name: Isabella; the gold ink filling each letter, clear down to the brass separator gleamed in the overhead lights, casting a light reflective shadow above it on the handle. The bristles, although they were not horse-haired, as I was used to, were of an imported material. I flipped it over and on the back, in small script, was a message from the one question I had:

Every color you paint becomes its own rainbow.

Edward

Edward had sent this? I looked inside the box to make sure there wasn't another note, but there was nothing else, the box was empty. The brush I was holding in my hands easily cost well over anything related to art that I currently owned!

"Put all your stuff away, except for what you are going to use for the exam," Phil's voice cut in my thoughts. "Clear your easels, too."

I contemplated using the brush, but thought against it and placed it back in the box, replacing the lid and slipping it into my bag on the floor. It was too much. I planned to give it back to him right after the bell rang. I was not about to except something that cost more than my fucking pricey watercolors!

I shook my head at the fact that I actually thought about using it! Edward would just have to deal with it, because I would be taking it back to his shop.

"Remember, you have one hour to complete a satisfactory painting, which highlights color rendering, ability and complexity. After the hour, you will be asked to stop and you will meet with Mr. Yorkie," He gestured to the man standing near the windows on the far right. "He will evaluate your work, and you will know right away if you have passed. Remember, your piece will not be completely dry, so there is some room for color opacity issues."

"I'm so going to fucking fail this," I muttered under my breath. "Damn you, Edward."

Damn, Edward? Oh, yes, because his lessons, during which you felt something for him, were a big, huge bummer. Not to mention he taught you the color technique you plan to use? Right. His impromptu visit last night had shaken me, especially with having to lie to him. His closeness was something I did not expect, nor his jealous rant. I could smell the desire coming off of him; mixed in with the vodka and sweat. It laced my senses and made my own desires bubble. His dark eyes had told me exactly what he was thinking in his mind: I want to fuck you, why won't you let me?

When his chest was pushed against my breasts, there was an aching need there, but it was extinguished quickly; the fire between my legs burning out, leaving my desire in ashes. He was drunk, and obviously drunk men were often horny. Then, when he had nearly figured out what I desperately wanted to hide from him, the desire seemed to fizzle out in his eyes, the flat gold lightening with reserved lust, but less intense than before. I frowned. If I had told him the truth that the facts he was thinking were right, he would never want to touch me, or fuck me, or even be with me. His eyes had tried to hide that truth, but, in his drunken lack of coherency, he had let it show.

"You may begin, now," Phil said, slicing through my inner monologue.

I picked up my familiar brush, dabbed it into the open paint jar, and started, crossing my fingers while trying to put thoughts of Edward, last night, and the tragic shit in my life back behind my cerebellum.

With the first stroke, I muttered: "Here goes everything."

-(*)-

*E_D_W_A_R_D*

The world was on fire,
No one could save me but you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
And I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.

-(*)-

I opened the kiln and frowned. The pyrolysis I was attempting on the wood inside the tram-loading kiln to make charcoal for my conte chalk presses wasn't working up to the right temperature.

"Fuck you kiln," I muttered, slamming the lid back down and turning the dial that controlled the heat pressure up a notch. I aimed a kick at the drum and dented it. "Oh. How awesome… a dent!"

It was hot and muggy in the studio from the heat of the kiln, making my mood considerably worse than it should have been. Alice, Emmett and Jasper (whom Alice begged), had gone to the art show to help set up before the crowd gathered tonight. It was exceptionally quiet, and allowed me to get things I had been putting off for a while done.

I lifted a roll of paper from the floor and placed it on the empty spindle in front of the rack where the lamination and varnishing station stood. I grunted in frustration when there was a small knock on the closed studio door after the paper roll came down on my thumb, effectively smashing it.

"Fuckinggoddamnmotherfucker!" I yelled out the cursing stream with anger. "What the fuck do you want?" I yelled at the door. I immediately regretted yelling that, in case it was Bella. Please don't be Bella…

The door swung open and my eyes snapped firmly onto the person entering my shop. I groaned internally at the sight of them and turned around to realign the paper.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I seethed, hate drained from each word like honey.

"You—you told me to come back," Mike Newton replied, shuffling slowly further into the room.

"Right," I scoffed. "Forgot."

I turned to him and narrowed my eyes at him with utter loathing. I walked across the studio to him and looked him in the eyes.

"First, if I ever--and when I say 'ever,' I mean as long as I live-hear you call Bella anything close to what you did yesterday, you will be wearing your balls as a cleft chin when I'm done kicking them, alright?" Mike gulped and nodded. "Second, you are going to sit down and tell me the truth about you and Bella. This 'didn't talk much' bullshit stops. There are pictures, and I want you to tell me about them."

"But…" he started, but trailed off after seeing the look on my face. "Fine."

"You're learning, Newt. Start talking," I smiled, crossing my arms.

"I used to date Bella, but it wasn't for very long," he admitted shaking his head. "Maybe two months? It was four years ago. I haven't seen her in a long time. After we broke up, she disappeared, and I haven't really talked to her much after she dumped me." Mike shrugged, his face pale.

"Why did you call her a skank? Did you want to make yourself feel better about being dumped by a girl? Huh?"

"No, it wasn't like that!" He hesitated, his eyes falling from my intense gaze. "She just liked to mess around in the dark rooms with her boyfriends," he explained.

I scoffed and unfolded my arms. I felt myself laughing slightly at his words.

"Are we talking about the same Isabella Swan? The Bella I know doesn't let anything come close to that, Newt."

"Well, I can only tell you what others have said, along with my own experience," Mike replied stiffly. "I don't know what her problem is with you, but she didn't have that when we were together." He smiled at some deep driven memory.

"Wipe the smile off your face, you bastard!" I said sharply, although my curiosity was getting the best of me. "What do you mean? She let you touch her then?"

He half-smiled, and then quickly dropped it. "Yeah, she let me touch her. I made it into a game."

"Game? What the hell are you on about?"

"You make it into a game, and she will melt like Jell-O in the stove," Mike smiled, shrugging. "You have to take charge with Bella, because she won't do any of the work on her own. You make the rules, you do the dice rolling."

"Hmm, you've proven yourself as more than just a stupid asshole. Congratulations," I smiled at him, and then dropped it to narrow my eyes at him. "I still hate your guts, though, so if I were you, I'd leave now."

"Should I…?"

"Come in anyway. I'm sure Alice has some kind of crap for you to clean," I told him. "Maybe she'll get lucky and find you some more cat shit or something to clean. Now, get out of my studio before I use this kiln to melt off your face."

He didn't reply as he silently walked from the studio. I hadn't expected his answer, that's for sure, but it seemed to be logical. I didn't like the way he smirked as he said it, but hell, if it were me remembering an intimate moment with Bella, I'd smile wide, too. Dice rolling and rule making…

That would be one wicked game! I thought to myself, as the kiln signaled that it was done. I walked over to it and shut it off. I walked back over to the table that held the paints and opened the jar lids, having every intention of getting Mrs. Stanley's portrait finished. It was due this morning, but still needed those fine touches to her evil pussy. I really did hope her cat shit somewhere. That would teach figgy-Newton to call Bella names.

I had just dipped the brush into the brown when a slight knock on the door sounded. I didn't look behind me. Instead, I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"What did I tell you about hating your guts you putrid little fu-" I spun around and trailed off when I saw that it wasn't fig-Newton. "Bella! Emmett said you would call…I'm sorry."

"No, no. I was supposed to call, but I had to come over here in person," she said, her eyes locking with mine as she moved gracefully forward. "This is too much, Edward, and I can't accept it."

She held out a small white box that she pulled from her bag. My eyes did not wander from hers as I grabbed the box from her. I looked down at the box and shook it, then looked back to met her gaze.

"What's this?" I said, lifting the box in front of her eyes. "What's in it?"

"The brush you sent me, Edward. Didn't you send it to me? Your name is on the back…" She trailed off at my puzzled look.

My puzzled expression melted into understanding then. "Alice."

"Alice?" she repeated.

"I asked Alice to help me do something that said I was sorry for…well, everything," I shoved the box gently back into her hands and gazed at her. "I still need that apology to be accepted, Bella."

"Edward, please. You don't need me to accept anything. I don't hold anything, other than the fact that you were drunk, against you. Besides, with finals and all, I nearly forgot about last night," she said, her eyes darting against my gaze.

"Your eyes lie, Isabella. Your unwillingness to look me in the eyes when you said that gives you away. The finals…how did you do?" I asked, trying not to sound too over-excited, which I believed I failed in. "Did you pass?"

Her smile flashed across her face with such enthusiasm that I thought her face would crack. "I passed!" she squealed happily.

"I knew you could do it, Bella!" I exclaimed happily. "You see? You do have the art gene!"

"I couldn't have done it without your help, Edward! You have no idea how thankful I am to you for the lessons." She smiled at me.

In a split decision, I reached out and gripped her waist and slid her against me gently. A gasp escaped her mouth, and her eyes widened as they met mine. I smiled down at her and brought my other hand to intertwine into her hair.

"You are way too modest. It's really a bummer," I winked at her, lowering my face to hers, leaving a few inches between. "Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile? It feels like a hundred years since it ravaged your face," I whispered, my breath hitting her in the face.

"Edward, I can't do this," she murmured, closing her eyes. I could feel her tremble slightly, and the happiness she felt earlier melted away into seclusion. "We can't do this."

"Isabella, open your eyes and look at me," I commanded softly, removing my hand from her hair to raise her chin. She opened her eyes and sighed deeply.

"I only want to kiss you; that is if that is all you can handle. But, for what it's worth, I would love for you to scream my name, drench yourself on me, and be one with me," I told her in pure honestly.

I watched her eyes as they flickered and intensified. Her will was crumbling in little bits inside, tumbling forward to the front of her pupils, enlarging them and making them bright. I brought my mouth to her ear and whispered slowly and roughly.

"I can smell the desire on you, Isabella. I can hear your heart pounding and your blood rushing, I can feel you tremble when I touch you, Bella. The desire you're holding back has to be nearly too much for you."

"But I can't, Edward. I want to, too. But it's not easy for me," she whispered. "Please."

"Goddamn it, Bella," I yelled out loud. I was hard again, and I was not whacking off this time. At least, not without her help.

"I'm sorry, Edward. We went through this last night," she muttered.

"There's a problem with that, Bella. One, I can't remember much of last night except I woke up without you in my bed, which was a huge fucking letdown, and, two, I just don't fucking care anymore."

"Edward…" She shook her head at me. "Please just let this go."

I, however, didn't give in. Instead, I reached down to pick her up by the waist. She gasped at the sudden movement and wrapped her legs around my hips in natural reaction, digging her shoe heels into my ass. I scraped my teeth across her milky throat, and then across the sensitive skin that connected her throat to her collarbone.

"Edward…" she sighed, dropping the box onto the floor beside her and wrapping her hands around my neck. She lifted her neck as I nibbled wildly at the smoothness with my lips and teeth.

She had given in easily to her desire, her will crumbled completely like a wall falling down around us. Her breathy moans made my pants a little tight as I made my way back to her mouth, spreading baby kisses as my hand stroked the sensitive skin at the small of her back.

"I'm in control, Bella, let me do this," I told her breathlessly, taking her mouth with mine, my tongue seeking permission, and her granting it.

I quickly rid myself of my own clothing, my hard dick painfully pressing against my jeans as they fell to my feet. I pressed Bella against the wall for support as I shed my boxers, leaving my lower body naked and wanting as her warmth flashed across my skin in desperate heat. My shirt was trickier. I put Bella down a moment and quickly threw my shirt off and threw it to the floor, and then turned back to her, lifting her once more, feeling her shoes dig into the muscles of my ass.

I turned, and stumbled backward further into the studio, until I felt the table that held the paints jab me in the back. Roughly and languidly, I turned and crashed Bella violently onto the table, sending the paint jars tipping over in all directions. I lifted my knee onto the table so that I was halfway on top of her, kissing and licking her mouth as I reached down for the buttons of her jeans.

Her hand reached down to join mine, and I thought she was going to push them away, but to my surprise, she began to help.

"My shoes…" she murmured.

I reached down with two swift movements; her shoes flew across the room and landed with a thud to the floor as I threw them.

"Edward," she moaned.

The moan was so fucking sexy that I had to hurry. I reached around her waist, and she lifted her hips so that I could rid her of her jeans. I looked down at her panties and smiled.

"Lace… I bet they were expensive," I smiled, reaching down and ripping them from her body in one quick movement. "Oops."

I dragged my face down her flat stomach, stopping every inch or so to lick and bite the sensitive skin. I could feel the coarse public patch on my face as I slowly retracted off the table and knelt on the floor, pulling Bella by her ass forward so that the back of her knees were resting on my shoulders.

I spread her legs wider, opening her for me, and I could hear her breathing speed up and her body tremble with need and a burning fire. I looked up at her from between her legs and smiled.

"Your wet and ready, Isabella," I told her, teasing her inner thigh with a finger. "Slick. Very slick."

"Yes," she moaned, arching at the sensation.

I dragged my finger over the hot, wet core of her body with deliberate strokes, pushing in her sex just enough to make her moan breathily. I twisted my index finger slightly and could feel her walls contract around it.

"Like that?" I asked her, pressing a second finger into her slick folds.

"Oh, yes, oh," she replied, her feet digging into the tops of my shoulders with painful pressure.

I smiled as I watched her arch off the table, making the angle and rhythm of my fingers deeper with each powerful plunge inside her. My thumb reached up to gently rub the throbbing nub of her clit, causing her moans to become louder.

"I love how you moan, Isabella. It makes me so hard," I told her, extracting my fingers from her swollen sex much to her displeasure. "Relax, Bella."

I dipped my head between her thighs, spreading her pink fleshy lips apart, my tongue darting forward to lap at her hot sex, keeping it flat and flicking her already throbbing clit as I made my way back down her wet, slick folds. Her body contracted violently as I sipped her, drinking her juices with loud slapping and slurping sounds.

"Please," she begged, arching up and reaching into my hair and pulling my face closer to her center. "Please."

Using my fingers, I spread her folds even wider as my tongue torturously lapped at the wetness she expelled. She tasted sweet and delicious. I could feel her legs wobble slightly, and I reached up to gently pry her hand away from my hair.

"Isabella, do you like games?" I asked her, climbing back onto the table and straddling her, making sure my weight was balanced by the table. "You see, I love games."

"Mm-hmm," she moaned, looking into my eyes. "What kind of game do you have in mind?"

So she did like to play games. This would be a game that made sure everyone was a winner.

"Sit up, Isabella," I commanded softly.

Bella rose and I bent in to kiss her slowly, reaching my hand to the hem of her shirt and lifting it.

"Lift your arms."

She lifted them and I tugged it the rest of the way off, leaving her in just her bra. I smiled at her and kissed her again.

"You," I punctuated the word with a kiss down her throat, "will," down her collarbone, "love," down in between her soft breasts, "this game," I finished, reaching up with my hand to pinch the pink bud that silhouetted from the cotton of her bra. It puckered and she moaned.

I reached my hand under each breast and pushed the bra upward, pushing her milky white mounds from their cotton prison. Bella stretched her arms over her head for me to completely rid her of the bra and any clothing. She was gloriously and beautifully naked on the table. I bent down and took her warm nipple in my mouth, sucking and biting it, the pressure making Bella squirm.

"Hurry," she whispered. "Please."

"Begging is against the rules, Bella. The prize is really awesome though. You get to come with me, Isabella. We both win," I smiled against her breast as my hand slowly found its way back down to her heat.

I cupped her, rubbing slowly until I knew she was ready for my game. I lifted myself up so that my hard cock was resting on her right thigh, and bent over to my right, sticking my right hand in the sticky, oily paint that had spilled all over the table.

"Edward, what…?" Bella questioned, watching me contently as I brought the dripping palm over her body.

"Shh. Right hand blue," I said, pressing the blue palm over her right breast, taking my fingers and squeezing her hard, feeling the paint under my nails and over her fleshy nub. I bent down to kiss the tit. I could feel the blue paint transfer to my face and lips.

"Kinky," Bella whispered desperately.

I bent to kiss her lips, transferring the paint to her face and whispered, "I know," against them.

"Left hand," I said, bending over to dip my hand into the paint color, "red."

Again, just as with the blue, I pressed my left hand down onto her left breast, the red smearing and splattering as I bent down, and this time, took her nipple into my teeth and nibbled slightly.

"Fuck, Edward," Bella muttered, rocking her hips upward, causing painful friction with my hard member.

I bent down to kiss her neck and whisper in her ear.

"I'm not done yet, Isabella. We are far from the finish line."

I reached over onto the table and grabbed the nearest brush that I could find.

"Art is all about being creative, Bella. I want you to be my Mona Lisa," I told her, reaching to dip the brush into the black paint that spilled near my right hip. "I want to create with you…on you."

I pressed the brush in between her breasts and dragged it slowly downward.

"Center of your body black," I said, stopping the stroke at her navel. "This game is wicked fun, isn't it, Isabella? Do you like this game?"

She nodded and I smiled. "Good."

I began the stroke where I had ended it, swirling the bristles against her deliciously wet lips, watching in torrid fascination as the paint mixed with the soft brown pubic hair. I watched the black trickle downward, down past her thighs and under her knees where it disappeared.

"You're a dirty canvas, Isabella," I teased, running the handle of the brush past her sensitive slit as I made my way back to her face. "I think it's really unfair that I'm so clean, and you are so filthy," I finished, kissing her eyelids, which left a mix of red and blue on each.

"Fuck me, Edward," she whimpered, pulling her chin up to reach my lips. "Do it!"

"No begging, Bella." I half smiled. "What brought this change, Isabella? Before, I could never do this." I reached down with one painted finger and rubbed the soft, swollen, throbbing bud at the top of her opening, the slight circles causing her to pant and wiggle on the table.

"You," she panted through baited breaths. "You brought it out," she wailed, as her legs began to shake with the release she so desperately desired.

"No, not yet," I told her, extracting my hand from her. "You come when I come, Isabella. I want to see your face contort and your body rigid. I want you to know who sent you over the edge; whose name you call when you climax," I told her, rolling off her.

"No! Please don't," she begged, the loss of contact making her protest.

"Relax, Isabella. We are going to switch places. I will be the canvas, your Michelangelo, and you can play your own game," I explained, reaching for her hand and lifting her from the table. I reached down to squeeze her ass hard and nibble on her ear as I whispered a command to her softly.

"Make me a winner, Bella."

-(*)-

*B_E_L_L_A*

No, I wanna fall in love
[This world is only gonna break your heart
No, I wanna fall in love
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
With you
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
No I
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
[This world is only gonna break your heart]
Nobody loves...no one

-(*)-

My eyes followed his torso as he laid flat on the table, the paint squishing underneath his body as he waited for me to start. The paint that he had erotically painted across my skin dripped onto the tile floor as I moved to pick up a loose piece of canvas that had fallen under the table, then crawled on top of his body, feeling his throbbing cock twitch against my belly as I bent down to kiss his lips, which were still stained blue. His hand collapsed onto my waist as his other hand traced from my shoulder blades, and followed my spine clear down to the crack of my ass.

"No touching, Edward. Rule number one," I smiled, reaching my hand down and grabbing his hand that rested on my buttocks, pulling it up his body so that it rested above his head on the table. "No hands allowed," I said, bringing his other hand off my waist to join the other.

"I like this game already," he said, his eyes a deep black mass of desire.

"Good," I replied, taking the piece of canvas and tying his wrists together, binding them so that they couldn't move separately. "This game is like "Battleship." I paint numbers on you, and you tell me which two to follow to a certain point on your body."

"Like coordinates?" he asked, his eyebrows rising. "Interesting."

"I like to call them 'hot spots.' It's only going to be interesting if you give me the right combination, Edward. I promise to make it easy for you."

He laughed as he watched me reach over for the brush he had used on me earlier. Slowly and with purposeful gentleness, I dipped the brush into the orange paint that had puddled near Edward's naked hip. I brought the paintbrush over to his chest, and from left to right, I placed the first number on his shoulder, and then followed until I reached his other shoulder with the final number, which was five.

"And vertically, now," I said, my hand tracing down his chest softly until I reached the coarse pubic hair. Deliberately, I rocked up hips forward so that my wet sex rubbed against his hardness. He groaned.

"Fuck, Bella," he blurted out, lifting his head off the table to look down at my hips swaying on his body.

"Not yet, you said," I reminded him, smiling.

"You keep doing that, and I'm going to accidentally explode. Paint a fucking warning on me," he smiled lazily, his breathing deep and low.

I laughed, and then stopped moving my hips as I took the paintbrush and repeated the action, numbering his body vertically from one to ten, which stopped at his knee.

"There, all done," I whispered, throwing the brush back onto the table. "A number, Edward."

"Three," he replied huskily.

I bent down and pulled his bottom lip with my teeth, letting it go and sending a chaste kiss in its place.

"Three," I said, sliding my hand down over the number three I had painted, which rested at the base of his clavicle. "Another."

"This game is too slow," Edward commented, his face turning into a frown.

"Slow? Only if you pick the wrong number, Edward," I breathed into his face. "Pick a fucking number, now."

"Six," he murmured. "It's a shame you have my hands tied, Isabella. Your tits look amazing from down here," he added.

"Three," I said, sliding my hand down his chest while moving my other hand vertically on his body. "Six."

The numbers he gave me led to the area of his navel. "Too high," I commented, reaching down to bit the sensitive skin of his belly button. My tongue circled the outer rim. I could feel him move slightly, arching his hips into my tongue, a slight moan escaping from his lips.

"Since this is my game, I'll let you keep the three, but you have to choose another number, Edward. You were a bit too high," I said, kissing his stomach and lifting my head.

"Too high? Eight?" Edward moaned, apparently feeling my hand moving against his waist.

I followed the eight he gave me, which led under my body. I scooted downward further toward his knees, releasing his erection, and smiled. He groaned as my moving hand found the head of his hard cock, which rested against his right inner thigh.

"I think you won, Edward," I breathed, pulling it up with my fingers. "What do you think you've won?" I teased, pressing my other hand down on his balls. The sensation would both provide heat to release, and also cause a more intense orgasm, something that would reward him completely.

I was going to reward him by riding him, but since his hands were tied, it would have been an unfair advantage on his part, because being tied with your hands above your head causes your muscles to relax, causing an orgasm that could go on and on. I was the rule maker, and that was too much of a prize for him. I decided to save this move for future use.

"Shit, Bella," he moaned, his eyes falling closed and his hands twitching against the canvas binding.

Without a word, I bent my lips down, sheathing my teeth, and lifted my hot mouth over his throbbing, rock hard cock. My lips guided downward, over the head and all the way to his hilt, eliciting deep growling moans from Edward. I passed back up the shaft, letting my teeth graze the head with slight pressure. I could feel his balls tighten under my hand, and the pulsating quicken in my mouth.

"Bella," he muttered, "I can't hold on much longer."

"Edward…" I started to say, releasing his hard member from my mouth with a pop.

I was cut off by the sound of something ripping apart, but before I could connect the sound to anything, Edward was up in a flash, his hands collapsing over my waist. In a move that only seemed possible in the movies, he turned and flung me hard onto the table, his body looming over me, his eyes wild and deep. He took a look at my face and picked me up, my legs wrapping around his naked hips instinctually. His mouth was on mine roughly as he walked with me quickly over to the small kiln a few feet away. He was gentler as he pushed my body against the kiln, his mouth leaving mine and traveling in fast, urgent kisses down my throat and across my breasts.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Bella," he panted, his lips now at my ear.

He caught me off guard when he leaned me against the kiln and stepped back a pace to reach between his legs.

"Can't…hold…" he murmured.

I could feel his heated cock at my wet entrance, the head teasing the slit with the pulsating throbs.

"I've got to…" he breathed against my neck.

"Do it, Edward. Fuck me," I panted, my nails digging into his back.

I gasped out loud as he slipped into my slick folds, filling and stretching me.

"Edward," I yelled out loud as he stretched and my walls closed around him.

His thrusts were forceful and powerful as my back banged against the kiln violently as he stretched me.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he said, reaching out and kissing my lips as his rhythm picked up pace; the slapping of wet, oily, painted skin nearly drowning out the moans that escaped my mouth.

I could feel the paint on our bodies mix and stick together in the heat and sweat, dripping over our knees, legs, chests and pooling down to where we were joined together, where it dripped over and around his hard dick. Momentarily, I hoped that the paint was non-toxic, but after he thrust hard and deep into me, it jarred loose from my mind.

"Oh, god, Edward," I moaned, letting my head lull against his neck as he shoved himself back into me hard, over and over again, his hands falling from my waist to my ass where he squeezed tightly, pulling me against him harder.

I could feel my walls start to contract around him, the heat of the friction overwhelming my body, making me quiver with every single deep thrust that he made.

"Soon, Edward," I whispered, unable to completely form coherent words.

"Not yet," he panted harshly. "Come when I come, Isabella. I want to see you come! Say my name when you orgasm, Isabella."

The feeling that I had to pee, which I knew was a sign of an impending orgasm, nearly derailed me. I fought against the urge to cry out and release. I could feel Edward start to shake, and a guttural growl escape from his chest, and I knew he was soon ready to spread into me.

"Ahhhhh," he gritted his teeth.

I felt him tighten along with my walls, and we both released at the same time, the panting and moaning between us filling the studio.

"Edward…" I moaned out breathlessly, my muscles in my body contracting and my movements going rigid with the powerful orgasm.

"Shit," Edward said, pumping twice before pulling out. "Shit."

He rested his sweaty forehead against mine and left me down on the floor. His hands came up to cup either side of my face, and he leaned in to kiss my lips. My lips shaped themselves to his and my hands followed his strong spine down to his muscular waist.

"I love you, Isabella," he panted. "So fucking much."

"I love you, too, Edward."

"I think you made yourself the winner, though, Isabella," he murmured against my lips.

"Why is that? I thought my rules were fair," I smiled against his lips and placed a hand on his chest.

"You sunk my battleship."

I smirked and reached my lips to his ear.

"No, I blew up your battleship."

In the light of the afternoon sun of the studio, we laughed, and Edward drew me against his body in a tight hug, his hand rested on the small of my back, and the other on my left butt cheek.

"I like wicked games," he whispered, smiling.

"Me, too."


A/N:

So, they finally did it. But will it be the same when what she did sinks in Bella's mind?

The paint was non-toxic, folks. She won't get paint crabs for anything...(laughs at 'paintcrabs')

Rec. A story: 'Gynazole' by: http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5682539/1/GYNAZOLE The story is hilarious and engaging!