Twilight's Stephenie Meyer's.

Chapter12/Echo

Only Mrs. Cope was in the kitchen when we finally came down for breakfast.

She hovered around Bella and despite her protests, she insisted on preparing her food.

Mrs. Cope served a rather large breakfast of meat and eggs for her, clucking about her "too slim" figure.

I playfully eyed Bella's gorgeous tits with a licentious grin. Her face flamed.

"Do you want to go out today?" I asked her. She had one day of rest after all.

She smiled and shook her head. Her eyes followed Mrs. Cope who was busy chopping greens and stalks. She seemed intrigued with the friendly woman. Perhaps she missed her mother?

"She grows on you," I whispered to her, inclining my head at our housekeeper.

"I like her," she whispered back shyly.

I felt a little ache in my chest, wondering what her life was like.

She never mentioned brothers or sisters so I assumed she had no siblings. Her father died when she was very young and she had been living with her aunt for the past two years. I suspect her aunt had no children.

Was she completely alone, growing up? Isolated from everyone all her life? I thought of what she had missed and possibly, continue to miss.

After we finished eating, we lingered in the kitchen, listening to Mrs. Cope's neighborhood updates.

Alice – who hadn't been subjected to a curfew since she turned 17 - came home only three hours before and was intending to sleep until late afternoon, she said.

As usual, none of us knew where Emmett was.

When Mrs. Cope matter-of-factly informed me about calls from Jessica, Lauren et cetera, I hastily interrupted her candid gossiping and excused ourselves from the kitchen.

I surreptitiously glanced at Bella, hoping she didn't picked on that. Her little mouth was twitching and I groaned inwardly.

I decided to give her a tour of the house.

I showed her Carlisle's study first since it was located near the kitchen. Bella got a little nervous when she saw the medical volumes which were predominantly displayed on my father's bookshelves and table.

"My father, Carlisle, is a doctor," I told her quietly, merely stating the obvious.

It didn't seem to have eased her discomfort. I decided to delay informing her that my mother was a psychiatrist.

I took her small hand and we left the study. I veered towards the stairs and to the library on the second floor.

I told her about the gargoyles and the turrets and she giggled when I recounted to her our childish games in this room.

"You were what?" she asked me when I mumbled about fantasy RPG.

"Nevermind," I said quickly.

She pulled a big book from one of the shelves. I could see it was a book about nymphs and a long treatise on Echo, the Greek goddess who was hopelessly in love with Narcissus and pined away until nothing was left of her but her voice.

"You never played RPG?" I asked her. She shook her head slowly.

I explained to her about Japanese video games, indie and D&D. "It's pretend and it's geeky, I know. Blame it on Emmett," I said wryly.

Emmett was big on superhero stuff. I didn't think he ever outgrew his fanaticism, I thought with a smirk.

My amusement suddenly fled when I noticed Bella's rigid body.

For a moment, she had a cloudy look on her face as if she remembered something. She had walked to the corner bookshelves while I was talking about computer games.

She had been standing across from where I was sitting, examining titles when I noted her transfixed expression.

In slow motion, she turned to look at me and I knew she wasn't seeing me at all.

"I once stood on the roof," she said quietly.

"How long were you on the roof?" I asked.

I didn't approach her but I closely scrutinized her face. I was slouching on a big chesterfield armchair.

She frowned. Her skin was so white it was like watching a marble statue.

"Were you pretending to be someone?" I said, when she remained quiet.

She stood still. "Pretending?" she said slowly, confused.

"That you were someone else. Or imagining to be somewhere else," I clarified, my tone nonchalant.

"N-no … I … I was in the woods, on a hill. W-with them," she stuttered, becoming a little alarmed now. She flexed her fingers and she swiveled to the window as if expecting to see someone emerge between the trees.

"You were pretending to be on a hilltop when you were on the roof," I said softly.

I felt uneasy at where this conversation was leading. I still didn't go near her. There was 10 feet of wooden floor between us.

Bella blinked several times and looked sideways at me. She stared at me for several seconds.

I waited.

And I waited.

"You have that look again." Her brows furrowed in concern. "You think I'm crazy," she whispered.

"Well …" I hedged. "I've done crazy things when I was a child. In fact, I still do." I attempted a lazy grin and failed. My heart was starting to skip beats.

She still looked worried, chewing her bottom lip nervously. She was now avoiding looking at me directly.

"Bella," I paused. I saw her wipe at her eyes.

"Come here," I said softly when she finally looked at me.

She shook her head, her fingers tugging at strands of her hair. It should have scared me, the way she was acting, but oddly I wasn't.

"Come here," I repeated.

She slowly approached me, the book she was perusing fell unnoticed to the floor.

When she was standing in front of me, I gently guided her to sit on my lap. I didn't hug her yet. She still looked wary but I tried to soothe her, stroking her bare knee.

We didn't speak for some time. Bella was staring out the wide window at the lawn and gardens, gradually relaxing.

It was almost mid-day.

She frowned, some disturbing memory or thought flickering across her face.

I watched her like the first moment I saw her.

I was amazed that the same agonizing sensations were coursing through me. Emotions I had been feeling for the past three days.

She still didn't move when I placed my hand on her back. My fingers tingled when I touched her.

Behind those brown eyes, Bella was one of the most intuitive and sensitive person I know. Or do you mean paranoid, Cullen.

I mentally shrugged. The word paranoid was used too casually now, used every day by everyone to describe anything from someone overly suspicious or an irrational person. It had become a common term, although erroneously applied most of the time.

I closed my eyes briefly. Bella was hospitalized for mental disorder. Twice.

It had an impact on her and to those people around her. It was not something easily brushed aside as if she simply had a tooth extracted. It was not surprising that this had given her a mild case of persecution complex.

I took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to stop the direction of my thoughts. This thinking would get me nowhere. Again.

But, if she was programmed to be suspicious, then why did she trust me completely within minutes of meeting her? She had told me that she was not bipolar but there was a duality in her personality. What does she feel about me? And I hate myself for thinking this - but if she thinks she loves me, would it be for real?

And why was this about her? Perhaps it was about me.

If she had a dual personality, I might be purposely thinking of her in that manner too. There was something about Bella that makes me think she was both pure and sin - the more poetic version of love and sex.

Madonna/Whore complex. And I wasn't strictly referring to the psychological condition or the syndrome according to chicken-fucking-Freud.

I tossed a mental coin.

Bella the pure: the woman I wanted to cleave unto me fucking forever until we were one whole unit.

Bella as sex object: the woman I wanted to fuck so hard and use as often as I wanted to until she fucking bleeds.

My mouth twisted in a grimace.

Yeah, Cullen, male double standards. It was cultural and sexual double standards since the dawn of time. Sure, women have their own set of moral, social and sexual double standards.

We were all fucking hypocritical and biased.

I was a product of this time, after all, when males were probably losing the battle for sexual objectification.

I released a long sigh of frustration.

The subject of my affliction turned to face me.

We stared at each other, unblinking.

"What are you thinking, Edward?" she whispered.

My virgin and whore.

We had an odd little bond. I need her and she needs me to be with her. It was a fucking madness that I, apparently, have. I always thought "love at first sight" a Greek myth, like Cupid.

"Where did you learn to kiss?" I asked her suddenly. I decided to go in another direction. I was fucking tired of my psycho babbling.

"Mental home … with a girl," she said, blinking owlishly at me.

I gaped at her, my face reddening.

"I'm kidding!" she squeaked.

I convulsively gripped her knee. I had done threesomes and more but still, like any typical male, I was turned on with girl-on-girl action.

"I did have my first kiss with another patient," she murmured.

"Where is he now?"

"He died."

She sank back into me and I tightened my arms around her, kissing the corner of her mouth.

She had been surrounded by death for most of her life.

Bella reached up, tugged my face lower to hers and bit my bottom lip hard. Then she licked it in apology.

I was instantly aroused.

I encircled her waist and lifted her astride, facing me. It pleased me that she was always wearing girly skirts for easy access.

She grabbed the front of my t-shirt when I twirled my tongue on hers, catching her moan in my mouth when I deepened the kiss.

I could hear faint footsteps in the hallway outside and I couldn't remember if I locked the damned door. I inhaled her strawberry scent and made a decision.

Mrs. Cope could suddenly appear or see us from the big windows but I couldn't fucking care. I couldn't stop. I had to have her.

"People outside the door." I bit and pulled at her bottom lip.

"You have to be quiet." My fingers grazed past the sides of her breasts.

She moaned, looking up at me as if I was a fucking god. She rubbed her delicious tits against my chest, knowing it would blow my mind. I cupped one and squeezed.

Because I was me, I was prepared. Without breaking the kiss, I unpop the buttons of my trousers and took my cock out. I slipped my rubber on and grunted when Bella squirmed against my hand holding my dick.

I inserted two fingers inside her -stroking, rubbing, making sure she was ready. I pulled her soaked panties aside and shoved my boner into her. She gasped, clutching my shirtfront. I lifted her and slammed her down harder on my erection, letting her know she could set the pace and depth of penetration.

She wriggled her hips and pelvis. I shoved deeper.

"Brace your knees," I grunted. "Slide up and down on me."

Holding on to my shoulders, she kept a steady pace. I bit the inside of my lower lip so hard I tasted blood. This pace was killing me. I thrust harder, angling it in such a way that I hit her clit directly and repeatedly.

She smothered a scream and flung her arms around my shoulders. I groped her breast and held on. When I felt her clenching around me I quickly crushed my mouth on hers to muffle her moaning.

Spent and limp, she lay quiet, her head buried in the crook of my neck.

She gazed up at me, confused, many seconds later. I was still inside her, still big and hard. She looked down where we were joined.

Mrs. Cope hollered at someone outside the door and I hastily lifted Bella – we both groaned at the sensation – off of me. I painfully rebuttoned my pants, inspected her appearance and I hurried her out of the library, to the third floor, to my room.

As soon as the door was shut, I pulled out my cock, pushed her on the bed, dragged her panties down her legs and knelt between her thighs. I lifted one of her legs on my shoulder and plunged my cock as deep inside her as I could. I was so fucking embedded the tip of my cock hit her uterus. I rocked once, twice, and pummeled her harder. She screamed. I was gone within seconds.

Mo-ther-fuck-er.

My body still shaking, I rolled over my side.

I turned my head to look at her.

Bella was eyeing me with renewed interest.

"H-how many times …" She stammered, breathless, blushing furiously. She tried again. "How many ways could you do that?"

I looked at her bright eyes, hair wet with sweat and her puffy lips.

I gave her my lopsided smile. "I'd rather show you than tell you, baby," I said huskily.

She blinked and the sweetest, fucking sexiest smile lightened her beautiful face.

When we finally left my room, it was dark outside.


***a/n

Echo, in some literature, is a water nymph and not strictly a goddess.