Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.
Goddammit Jasper.
Act Three Scene Two {Bella Swan}
Edward's hands squeeze mine. Our fingers intertwine, arms stretched up to the pillows near the headboard. His kisses are soft and sweet on my cheeks, down my neck, and over my breasts.
I squeeze my thighs around his hips as he sits up. He unbuttons his blue shirt revealing his cross hanging down near his heart. I finger it, asking him if God would want this for us. He says yes, coming down for a deeper kiss.
He groans, his chest hard in my hands. His chest hair tickles my palms, and I stroke his abs slowly with my thumbs one by one. He's breathless above me, laughing. It was something he used to love, we used to love, when we were younger. I hope he remembers what I like...
He kisses me again, his cross warm against my neck. It is another sensation I remember from when we were together. We were teenagers who liked to experiment, but we were also old fashioned. Edward never wanted to go all the way. He wanted us to be a proper bride and groom. It was something I believed in too until I met Ryan last year. How could I say no to Ryan Gosling?
I wonder if Edward is still a virgin as his fingers deftly pull down the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders. In a moment, my slip dress is on the floor without me realizing it. I wonder no more.
When my bra drops to the floor, I unbuckle his belt. He kneels between my legs, his long fingers traveling up my thigh and down my ankle. I unzip his slacks, and they fall to the bed, revealing gray boxer briefs and something that I had never gotten a chance to see in all the years I had known him.
His cock stretches the cotton from his crotch to the middle of his thigh. He chuckles as I gawk, asking if I ever saw one before. Hope flickers in his eyes. He hopes that I haven't. I tell him yes, asking him if he has ever seen a naked woman before. He's silent. Then, he tells me only on screen, only in my movies.
"They don't do you justice. You are perfection."
He kisses me again, and our chatter ends for the rest of the night.
His fingers are long. When I suck them, he makes a sound deep in his throat that tightens every muscle in my body. I bite the tip of his middle finger, and he sings, I swear it. It's a raspy falsetto, like Justin Timberlake.
He pulls his finger out of my mouth, his skin flushed. He whispers in my ear, asking if I could something like that with a thicker member of a male's body. I tell him I could try.
If I could describe what it was like giving him pleasure, I would write a book about it. I would compose symphonies rivaling Beethoven. It would be the best damn symphony of all time, with the most satisfying coda. I think I see Edward's toes curl and hear the sheets rip between his fingers. He has to push me away after cumming.
I am insatiable. The experience is heady. I want to satisfy him all night long, and everyday afterwards.
I realize I cannot do that because of the murder. I sit back, the tears building. Edward sits up, confused. Then, he scoots down to where I sit, holding me. He asks me if his singing scared me. I smile.
He kisses my forehead. He kisses my cheeks, then my lips. I feel weightless. I feel free.
I lie down beneath him, his long fingers light like a spider's legs down my thighs. He remembered. It is something that I had been waiting for since his first kiss. His fingers exhilarate me. They bring forth little girly giggles. They soak my panties straight through.
I beg him to stop, my voice thin and needy, my stomach tied in knots. Every hair on my body stands on end. My skin as sensitive as a ripe peach, he pulls my panties off, and I moan his name. He's got to do more. He's got to go faster. It takes him an entire minute to dispose of them.
His lips and tongue are sweet of the cabernet he had at dinner. They kiss my lips, my chin, my collarbone. He nibbles my taut nipples, and my back arches. He sucks the skin along my ribs, around my belly button, above my pelvis. He smiles at the strip of hair above my pussy, calling it a runway. I am too anxious to giggle at his joke. He smiles still. He licks my left inner thigh, then my right. He kisses my pussy lips, and I call his name. I need to cum. I beg him to fuck me.
He tastes my engorged clitoris. I call for God. I see stars and the planets align in my mind.
He plunges his fingers inside of me, and I sing the body electric. Not literally, of course. I have not an ounce of singing talent in my body. But my sweet lord do I sing the body electric. I celebrate the me yet to cum. I burn with the fire of ten million stars. And in time and in time, we will all be stars!
As I come down from the heavens, I open my eyes seeing my body twisted in an unnatural position. He pulls his three fingers out, sucking them one by one. Then, he blows my pulsing clit, and I tremble uncontrollably.
I am spent. I cannot feel my legs. And still, I crave him. I yearn for what we had never done in God's name. Edward's eyes smolder from between my legs. He craves me more.
Edward unwraps my legs from around his neck. My back muscles groan as I sit up to meet his wet full lips with a kiss. He lifts me up off the bed, carrying me back to the pillows. Lying on top of me, his cross burns on our skin, our hearts beating against each other.
It's involuntary, it's slow, and slippery and fucking frustrating how the shaft of his cock rubs against my pussy when he lies on top of me. He kisses me once, growling in my ears, our hips meeting and falling away in unison. Edward says we don't have condoms. I tell him I'm on the pill. He stops. Everything. He kneels down at my feet.
"I thought you said you were a virgin?"
"Oh come on, sweetie. I'm Bella Swan."
He shakes his head, incredulous. I kiss him deeply, pulling him back down on top of me.
He covers my heart with his right hand. I do the same, shutting my eyes as he whispers how I'm the most perfect girl in the world.
He lifts my right leg over his shoulder, his fingers light on my inner thigh like spider's legs once more. Writhing beneath him, he kisses my ankle, and enters me.
He is harsh, punishing, and so deep, wherever Ryan had been is utterly obliterated. Edward is resplendent above me, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, his neck, and chest. He is in control but about to lose it, cussing in the raspiest falsetto.
He warns me he is close. I stroke his abs with my thumbs, breathless. My mind is as mushy as my legs. God, his thrusts accelerate to a speed I cannot keep up with.
I squeeze his right hand, intertwine our fingers, lift it up to the pillows near my head.
"Fuck!"
"Bella. Christ!"
His explosion is moments before mine. And to see him cum is to see the stars, Venus, and Mars. It is to see God.
He lies down next to me, breathing deeply. The sound soothes me like nothing else in the world. All the hatred I had encased in my soul, fleeing like caged birds, flying out of sight and out of mind.
After we catch our breaths, he turns over on his belly, giddy.
"Let's do it again!"
I quickly consent, ignoring the nagging fact that the last time I took a birth control pill was back in L.A. before Promises...