A/N WARNING - This chapter is fully earning the Mature rating of the story. In other words, lemons ahead readers! If you don't like that kind of thing feel free to skip this chapter and join in again in the next one.


Chapter 28 Ready When You Are

*I draw you close to me, you woman.

I cannot let you go, I would do you good.

I am for you, and you are for me,

not only for our own sake, but for others' sakes.

Enveloped in you sleep greater heroes and bards.

They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me." *

Edward's POV

The clock moves slowly forward, the red illuminated numbers the only pale glow in the ever darkening bedroom. I sit, content to adopt the unnatural stillness that marks me as the creature I am, comfortable in the darkness the way I never will be in the light.

The rain continues to fall, a soft accompaniment to the perfect sounds of Bella's breathing and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. She sleeps peacefully. Blanketed with exhaustion and lulled by the pleasure I'd granted her body. Her rest is deep, untouched as of yet by the nightmares that have plagued her these last weeks.

Not wanting her to be frightened waking to darkness I move slowly from my chair and light several candles around the room, bathing it in a subtle glow of warmth. The black wax vanishes in the shadows making the flickering flames appear to float disembodied in the air. A subtle odour wafts gently from each one. Spicy in its undertones, it complements the floral pureness of Bella's scent permeating the room.

A cd sits poised in my stereo, awaiting the mere push of a button that will fill the room with music I'd chosen months ago. A tray filled with fresh cut fruit, delicately thin crackers and soft curls of cheese sits by the bedside table. Beside it is a glass of ice water, tiny droplets of condensation on the outer surface catching the refractions of the newly lit candles. Miniature cascading jewels that ring the bottom of the glass with iridescence. Selections made with utter care to tempt her lagging appetite. An offering of solicitude and love. A declaration that she is, and always will be, taken care of in every way. Her every need met. Everything is as perfect as I can make it.

Yet all of that perfection pales in comparison to her, and as I watch her sleep I'm eased by the hypnotic rhythm of her breathing. A soft flush of colour has remained on her skin, a glow of warmth and satiety mingling with the need still buried beneath the surface. Her hair spills around her face, curling across the pillows in a riot of burnt mahogany silk. The sheets are a delicate golden compliment to the ivory bisque of her flawless skin. They mold her body, revealing the delicate and alluring curves beneath. One tiny foot escapes their confinement, the perfect arch so impossibly elegant it makes my throat tight in a pure male reaction of adoration. She is an angel, smoldering in fragile sensuality. Perfect heat, perfect life. Perfect.

She stirs as though she feels the heat of my gaze, which no doubt she does. The small link we've begun to forge with the taste of our intimacy is growing even as she sleeps. Strengthening with every breath. Her human mind does not understand what we've begun, but her body needs no understanding. Even now while she remains unconscious, she angles herself in precise harmony with my position, displaying her vulnerability and her trust. The unique signature of her scent is stronger than ever, torching my tight throat in pleasurable flame and calling to elements of my nature I've suppressed for a century.

There no longer is a choice of what will happen between us this night. Perhaps there never was. The power of our bond is calling to us, demanding the final connection of our spirits, our bodies. Carlisle had warned me, as had Emmett and Jasper that this moment would happen. Vampires do not form fickle attachments. We forge connections as unbreakable as the eternity of time that encompasses our lifespan. Physical love cements that bond, attaches us to our mates in ways beyond even the love I currently hold for this perfect creature sleeping in my bed. When we make love for the first time the attachment between us will be complete in all ways. Allowing for a connection that will defy all logic and reason. I had thought that perhaps her human nature would prevent this from happening. That perhaps we would not bond fully in that way until I made her immortal.

I was wrong.

It has already begun.

I settle back into the chair, resting my elbows on the padded arms and linking my fingers together. I can still smell her on them. The pure essence of her arousal taunting my already inflamed senses. Reacting to my intensifying emotion she stirs, the softest sigh escaping her mouth while her eyelashes flutter against the tender skin beneath them. She arches her spine, just a slight hint of subtle movement that nevertheless conveys everything I feel and more. Her innocence, her need, her power. Her eyes open slowly, deep depths already alert and full of heat, so breathtakingly beautiful it is almost more than I can bear. They find mine unerringly and the need between us grows.

All our previous promises vanish, like a childhood pact that was made in innocence. We no longer reside in that place. What exists now is bittersweet. Bitter for the loss, sweet for the awakening of the new place we are now. This isn't the fairytales of happily ever after. This isn't white weddings and pristine virginity. It isn't what we'd hoped it would be. And yet there is no sadness in the realization. What exists now is a stripped bare reality and all its ambient emotions. It is raw, powerful, and stark. We will destroy all that lies between us. Set it on fire with the cleanest purest blaze we can create, and burn the darkness and sadness until all that is left is ash. When the wind blows it away and scatters it to the four corners of this earth, all that will be left is us. She and I scarred but complete.

My name on her lips is soft, yearning. I close my eyes for the briefest second. So brief she won't even have been able to detect it. One last moment to delve into my mind and question my ability, my strength, my will. To see if my control is where it needs to be, to ask myself if I can do this.

I can.

When my eyes open again she rises to her knees. The soft slide of the sheet falling to lie at her waist is like a whisper in my ear. Perfect skin turns illuminate with the soft kiss of candlelight, ethereal with the faint flicker of distant lightening that caresses her. Light finds her, even in darkness, as eager to love her as I am.

No. There no longer is a choice.

Bella's POV

I don't know how long I've slept. The room is dark, the large pane of glass covering the wall to ceiling window dark with nothing but the reflected images of the room. There is no moment of confusion, no sleepy drag trying to urge me not to wake. Just a relaxed alertness as though I hadn't really been asleep at all.

Edward is there, in a chair he's pulled up to the bedside, and for once I don't feel surprised at his presence. He is supposed to be there. I am supposed to be here. In his bed, in his room. This is where I am safe. Where I will always be safe.

I say his name and rise up on my knees, surprised at how my body feels. Loose, warm, like the knots have all melted away. Like the constriction and the chains have lightened. Even my ribs feel fine, my joints liquid and unlocked. A warm blush spreads over my cheeks as I remember why I feel the way I do. What we'd done. What he'd done for me.

He's there; suddenly close in front of me, one knee bracing his weight against the edge of the mattress as he cups his cool hand around my blush. Eyes, dark like midnight and yet incredibly gentle gaze into mine.

"I'd say good morning," he murmurs with a voice just as gentle as his eyes. "But it isn't quite that yet." His thumb strokes the skin on my jaw as he smiles.

"You could say good night," I say, my voice just as gentle as his. Images of our time in the shower, stronger ones of the way he'd touched me, loved me afterwards, flicker like the candles he's lit. My traitorous blush flares a little hotter as I remember begging him not to stop. His gentle look grows concerned as my reaction transmits itself directly against his palm.

"Is it a good night?" he asks. His perfect features become tighter with his worry.

I want to ask him the same question, but hesitate. "It is." I keep my eyes on his watching for signs of regret, waiting for him to take it back somehow, to remind me how foolish we were, how dangerous our actions had been. "For me anyway," I finish.

His smile returns with a new edge of heat that makes it the sexiest look he's ever given me. Cold, marble finished lips ghost over mine, barely there, though the reaction in my body couldn't have been any stronger if it had been a full on kiss. His lips move to my cheek, his smile lingering. Down my jaw and beneath, until his lips brush over the small dip where my neck and shoulder meet. My pulse begins to race as he draws in a slow deep breath, drinking in my scent, savouring it even though I know it's painful for him.

"It is a very good night for me as well, Bella." When he draws back I can't help but scrutinize his expression again, waiting for the 'but' that should follow his statement. It doesn't come. He arches one sculptured eyebrow. "Do you doubt me, love?"

Blushing again I duck my head, biting my tongue against the urge to ask him what he's done with my Edward. It reminds me of how much has changed. How much we've changed. Like before he refuses to let me look away, that granite finger finding its way beneath my chin and gently turning my face back to his. A soft chuckle sends a rush of his sweet scented breath straight to my head, creating a tight feeling in my core. One that bursts into a tiny flame at his next words.

"Maybe you need another demonstration of just how much I enjoyed our...earlier moments." His smile is a seductive smirk, every bit a dark angel. "I don't think you were paying proper attention, Bella." Goosebumps break out over every inch of my skin as his voice strokes me, dripping with velvet heat. "Then again," he whispers leaning close enough I can taste the sweet coolness of his exhale. "I rather liked your attention right where it was."

He leaves me speechless, breathless and trembling. His smile grows, obviously pleased with my reaction as he tilts his head to align his mouth with mine. The contact is electric and only my nervousness at not having brushed my teeth yet keeps me from falling completely under the sizzling current. Before I can ask for a human moment he seems to read my mind, drawing back without pressing the kiss like he normally does.

Reaching for a tray I hadn't noticed on the bedside table, he situates himself more comfortably and rests it on the bed between us. A perfect crisp linen napkin is removed to reveal a small glass bowl nearly overflowing with fresh cut fruit. Ripe strawberries, raspberries and blackberries. Juicy squares of melon and papaya, thin slices of pear and pineapple, all nestled together and resting in a larger bowl filled with ice to keep it cool. Tiny crackers and paper thin curls of various cheeses sit on a small plate at its side. For the first time in weeks my stomach actually doesn't revolt at the sight of food.

It's obvious he's taken considerable care to make everything, and I meet his gaze with small tears in my eyes. His expression is tender. "You need to eat, love," he admonishes softly. "Can I tempt you with something here?"

Without waiting for a reply he ignores the utensils, plucking one of the berries out of the bowl with his fingertips. It's bursting and red, and the scent it gives off is nearly mouth-watering. It's his expression however, that has me leaning forward to accept the fruit. He's watched me eat a hundred times, all with varying degrees of interest ranging from mild curiosity and a question about flavours, to ones of revulsion. Occasionally when I've been particularly enjoying something he's watched me with a certain degree of amusement and pleasure. He's never looked at me like this. As though his very existence is dependent upon every bite he can coax into my mouth. As though the very act of feeding me is nourishing him a thousand times more than it does me.

He watches me so intently he seems to know what I prefer from the tray before I do. The strawberries and raspberries disappear while the pear remains mostly untouched. More crackers are left on the plate than cheese, and when I can't possibly eat another bite I don't have to tell him. I sip the last of the water from the glass, sucking on a tiny sliver of ice until it numbs my mouth, while he places the tray back on the table. Tiny droplets of condensation drip unto the soft gold coloured sheet, turning the fabric where they land bronze. Neither of us seems to notice.

The entire time I'd eaten the electricity that exists between us had been thrumming to life. Now it crackles in the air, alive and frenzied. My heart hammers erratically as he takes the glass from my hand, placing it without turning away from me on the table with the tray. His eyes are black again, like deep pools on a moonless night. The candlelight ignites the copper in his hair and his skin is impossibly pale and beautiful. The sparks in the air touch my skin and set off a reaction deep inside my body that has me beginning to tremble.

I need him. It overrides everything, that need. My fears, my insecurity, even my desire to never again ask him for more than he wants to give. It's on the tip of my tongue to beg, and a sudden intense feeling of vulnerability has me reaching for the sheet, trying to tug it up over my exposed upper half. The need is too powerful. Laced with my fear and the hurt I cannot hide, it feels edged in sharpness, cutting me like a knife. I feel as though I'm about to disintegrate, vanishing into thin air if he doesn't touch me. Now.

Cold fingers grasp mine in restraint. His eyes grow impossibly darker.

Edward's POV

My voice comes out as a low growl though I wanted it to be a sensual whisper. "Don't. I've waited more than a lifetime to see you, Bella, don't cover yourself from me." She doesn't understand that what she feels is a perfect mirror representation of mine. Weaker in sensation perhaps because she is human, but nevertheless life altering and powerful. The connection is growing, screaming for the final act it needs to be complete. As inevitable as the tides and the waxing, waning moon that governs them.

Her choice. It must be her choice.

Only that thought and that thought alone keep me from moving. The need inside of me is primal. The pull of the connection nearly uncontrollable save for one small bit of knowledge. She wants this, needs this, nearly as much as I. Only her fear will stop it from happening, and fear is something I will not allow to stand between us any longer. Not hers and certainly not mine.

I can taste her fear; feel the energy it exudes as she grapples with it in her mind. Jacob is in the shadows, quietly exultant, leering.

Mine, you bastard fucking dog. She's mine.

The thought is violent, born on another low growl though my hands are infinitely gentle as I cup her face, rise onto my knees and pull her onto hers as well. She is my everything. I will destroy anything that tries to hurt her, including myself. My fingers tangle in the silky strands of her hair and wrap around the warm fragile roundness of her skull. Her breath comes quickly and I measure each pant to find the balance of fear and need within. Her body is responding, coming alive despite the fear, and I know, just as I've known all night, that I need to push her now. Push her past all of it. Not just her, but myself as well.

The electricity between us is alive and well, snapping in the air around our bodies, snarling like it is alive.

"I love you," I hiss fiercely against her mouth. My kiss is not nearly as careful as I would have normally made it. Her response is instant and hot, her arms going around my neck, her fingers tangling into my hair as well. I can taste all her emotions in her mouth. The bitter bite of her fear, the sweet lush flavour of her desire, and the potent explosion of need that perfectly matches and strokes the flavour of my own.

Her choice.

I find the strength to pull back, cupping the back of her head so she can't turn away from my studying gaze.

Calm down, I growl to myself in strict demand.

"Bella. Listen to me, love." She's shaking all over, her body coiled and tense, new tears in her eyes. This won't end well if we stop now. The need is too extreme, more than her fragile human body can withstand without pain. My only comfort is that at least I know now that I can soothe some of that ache. It won't be enough, not with the connection demanding to be forged, but it's something at least. It gives me the strength to stand strong. My own pain is nearly my undoing, but nothing will make me break my vow.

Her choice.

"I'm ready when you are," I murmur the words softly, using emotion to make my point.

She sobs, her eyes falling closed. "I promised you...we promised each other...we said we'd wait..." Another tremor harder than the rest coincides perfectly with her eyes opening. God she's so strong, so selfless. Another human would crumple under this weight, fracture beneath this need. "It was so important to you."

"Was." I emphasize the past tense of the word, hard. "Everything is different now, Bella. We're different. I don't care about rules. They were never meant for you and me anyway, and I was a vain idiot to ever think I needed to protect your perfect soul." I crush my lips to hers again, harder than I've ever allowed myself, though it still remains gentle. Even when I think I'm not capable it has become instinct to protect her from my strength. The very knowledge of her fragility is embedded in the arms that hold her.

The darkness is threatening to win. I can feel it pulling at her as shadows full of him drift over her skin. I can hear him breathing, mocking, his presence nearly real in the power of her fears. The connection between us suddenly begins to fray, and she clings to me with the feeling she doesn't understand. Tears spill slowly down her pale skin.

"I need you, Edward," she whispers. "I can't help it, I don't understand it. I just do...please. I'm sorry, I just can't... I need you to make it go away, I need you to hold me and not let go because I feel like I'm going to disappear." The frayed ends begin to knit at her words, and the shadows pull back.

Mine, I growl under my breath. You can't have her, you've never had her.

Sweeping the hair from her face, I kiss away her tears, gentling her. "Do you think it's any less for me, love? That I want you any less, need you any less?" I tug her hand from my hair and lay it over the place where my heart sits cold and silent. "If my heart could beat it would be racing twice as hard as yours, Bella. It would be trying to slam right out of my chest that's how much I need you, want you. It's almost more than I can stand." The growl that ripples my throat is impossible to contain as I let some of my control slip. "You're mine! Do you understand? Mine. I need that to be true, Bella. In every way." I can't help the small groan that leaves my mouth, no more than I can help the plea that comes after it. "Let me make it true."

She closes her eyes and some of the tension leaves her body. It isn't enough. "Look at me," I growl. She needs to know all of it. What we've begun. What we'll finish. In our fairytale I would have hidden it. I would have masked the connection that overtook me on our wedding night. Whatever pale ghost of it that she would have felt before the trauma of Jacob's assault had opened her mind, I would have allowed her to think it was normal. Her innocence would have made that easy. But this is not our fairytale, and she isn't feeling some pale ghost of our connection. She's being swamped by it, and if it is truly her choice she needs to understand what it means for us.

"Your choice, Bella. Only yours." For a moment she looks like she'll argue, but I don't allow her the chance. "Do you feel what this is between us? It's more than you thought it would be, isn't it?" She doesn't need to answer the questions, like always her face is an open book, my only saving grace from her silent mind. "Immortals bond for eternity, Bella. Physical love will cement that bond; forge it in steel until it is unbreakable in every way. Nothing save death will separate us, and even that will only be temporary. It doesn't seem to matter for us that you are still human. If we do this, it can never be undone. I will never let it be undone." The fierceness in my tone softens. Brushing a tender kiss upon her lips, I whisper my last words as gently as I can. "I will never want it undone."

She shivers, though her eyes are steady when I draw back to search her face. Her nod is nearly imperceptible. "I'm already yours forever, Edward."

Not enough.

"Say the words then, Bella" I growl. "Let me know it is your choice. Say the words."

Jacob's presence is vanquished to the darkest farthest corner of the room. His guttural howl is silent, present only in my mind. She utters eight soft words and he's gone. Swallowed by the darkness that consumes him in my head, just as it does in reality.

A yielding blush blooms and warms the porcelain of her skin, one I will not let fade this time. Her damp lashes flutter while she arches her back slightly, bringing us closer. Soft brown eyes turn softer, imploring, melting with sadness, tears, desire. "Make love to me, Edward. Please, make love to me."

It's all I need. I brace my hand behind her back and lay her down on the bed beneath me. Another movement and the sheets that cover her are gone. One more and the last remnants of fabric between us vanish as well. I turn her gently on her side and hook my fingers behind her knee, drawing it up and over my hip until we touch with no space in between. Our lips meet in hunger and little restraint save for what I need to guarantee her safety. I swallow her needy little whimper greedily.

This will not be what I'd planned. Not methodical, or careful or textbook. All that lies between us is too raw for that, our need too great. The connection demanding to be completed controls nearly everything. And what little it does not is controlled by lust. It pours off of us in waves after so much denial. Our bodies are desperate.

She is all heat and light, the perfect contrast to the cold and darkness inside of me. Her heat consumes me, spreading in licking flames all over my hard skin until I can't help but groan. Tiny hands glide like satin over my chest. Fingernails scrape over the nape of my neck and tangle in my hair as she arches her body closer still, tugging my mouth tighter to hers. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right in my life. I was made to love her.

Her hands aren't content to stay in my hair. They roam my back and my sides, almost perfectly mimicking mine which do the same. Her perfect floral scent is all over, drenching me in her life, the purity of her essence, so that every unnecessary breath I take in is flavoured in her. My thirst burns and my teeth ache, but it is ridiculously easy to ignore it all. Especially in favour of the other delights that hit my senses. Like the sweet, tight little points of her breasts rubbing against my chest. The heated place between her legs, so velvet soft and plush against my thigh. I press it tightly against her, rubbing softly, rewarded with a little gasp that I lick from her lips while I do it again, harder.

The skin on her palms is hot and deliciously damp when she trails it down my chest and circles my nipples with the sharper ends of her little nails.

"Bella." It's a hiss of pleasure and an admonishment to be careful that she ignores. I don't care; don't even think to remind her of caution. Nothing in me feels as though I could hurt her. It's as if my hands have their own memory and they glide over her body gently, never breaking rhythm. Not even when her hands move lower.

I let the control of my body slip away so that when her hand enfolds me I'm more than ready for her. At least physically. Mentally nothing could have prepared me for the feel of her touching me this way.

Nothing. I let go of her then, pulling my hands away from her fragile flesh terrified that they will curl into pleasure induced fists, crushing her like a tender newly bloomed flower.

I don't know who moans louder. Her or me.

Bella's POV

The candles flicker like a breeze disturbs them. Fear doesn't leave, but it takes a back seat to the instant rush of heat that flares over my body when he lays me down on the bed. I need to touch him, compelled by instinct and something else. Whatever that link is that he says is taking over. It burns inside of me and I know it won't stop until he makes me his in the most intimate way. It makes me rush what I would have thought should be slow.

For a second I think I feel eyes in the darkness watching me. Eyes full of anger and jealousy. Though I open mine and peer over my shoulder to see there isn't anyone here, the feeling lingers. Then Edward kisses me, sliding my panties over my hips to vanish somewhere in the shadows and the feeling fades.

It's only us. The eyes are only imaginary. I cling to him harder. Tighten the thigh he pulls over his so that we are as close as we can be. His pale white skin glows under my hands, my light in the darkness. He's cold against my heat and oh, God. It feels so good. My body is racing ahead of my mind. I'm like a car on an oil slick track and I don't have any brakes. He rocks his thigh against me and I almost come. I want to so bad I can taste it and it's all I can do not to beg him to do it again. If he does it again I won't be able to stop, so I push myself back a little and run my hands over his spine.

His body is so smooth. Flawless, each muscle chiseled perfection, like a cold sculpture. I shiver all over but not because I'm cold. His cool temperature sets my skin on fire, makes me ache so badly I only want to get closer. I let my hand move down his chest. Enjoying the hiss of pleasure he makes, the slight reprimand when I touch his nipples and scratch him lightly with my fingernails. Down over his hard abdomen, feeling the crisp hair that trails there until I find him. Erect, hard, ready in the way he'd promised me he would be.

Satin over steel. It's the only descriptive my over heated mind can come up with though it is sadly inadequate. He's cold here too, but somehow more alive than other parts of his marble like body. It pulses in my palm, vibrating with some kind of energy I don't understand. A tiny fission of fear skates my spine as I measure his size and breadth, but it vanishes when he groans and my eyes fly up to meet his.

His hands come away from my body, though I hardly mind. Not when his expression looks like it does right now. If the moment was any less intense I'd smile. Finally something he didn't expect or know. He wasn't expecting this to feel so good.

He groans again and his hands move back to me, cupping my face as he rolls to his back. Pulling me down gently to his mouth while my hand begins to move over him. A shudder actually works its way over his body, the first time I've ever seen him do something so completely human. I didn't think vampires could shudder. The feeling that comes over me is powerful. This is Edward and I'm safe. A little more of the fear dissolves.

I could easily touch him like this all day, but I'm not surprised when only a few seconds later he tugs my hand away and rolls me onto my back. It is the dark angel look that he wears when he looks down at me, and it takes my breath away.

"Bella," he moans, conveying a wealth of desire in one whisper of my name. The need comes back again, hot and heavy in my core. Making me shake and whimper as he begins to love me in earnest. Cold sweet kisses on my lips, my neck, over my chest to the tips of each breast. So gentle and thorough, and yet always with an edge of barely restrained power that excites me violently.

He moves to his knees between mine and cups me possessively. I lose the ability to breathe. Exquisite cold against my heat. I'm wet, soaked, and I blush while he groans in pleasure, praising me like I've done something wondrous when really it's all him. Him and this connection that pulls us closer and closer.

I want to be his. His completely and utterly in every way possible. Forever.

"Edward, please," I beg, my hips rising, pressing wantonly against his fingers. On fire and unashamed. I need him to be inside of me. To burn the whole room down around us until there is nothing left. Not even the fear that still makes my heart pound. I can't banish it completely, but it won't control me. I won't let it take him away from me. I won't let it take this away from me.

"Not yet, love," he groans. "You're not ready yet."

I don't see how I could possibly be any more so. Then he places the same fingers that had cupped me in his mouth, puts them back between my legs and I fall over the edge like a stone, barely able to draw in the breath I need to cry out loudly.

Edward's POV

She's so warm, so lush and wet against my fingers. Swollen and nearly ready, but not quite. I move my fingers from her perfect heat and place them in my mouth. Moving on instinct and knowledge shared to me by my brothers. The taste of her nearly knocks me down. It carries the very same essence as her blood. Hot, silky and floral, mixed with the musk of her arousal it's almost as potent. Venom lets down, flooding my mouth, different in taste and texture than normal. I'm prepared for the feeling, knowing that in all ways I am a powerful lure to my prey. Even in this most intimate way I've been equipped to seduce. The venom in my mouth is no less toxic than normal, but now in small quantities it is also a stimulant. As long as it never meets broken skin it can't harm her.

Before she has a chance to register my actions and become alarmed I place my fingers back down on her. Gently pressing through her silken folds and finding the satin nub at their beginning. It takes only the smallest stroke.

Bella comes apart at the seams, and nearly takes me with her. If I was not a vampire but a man, I'm certain I would have lost control, would have spilled over her velvet thighs like a useless adolescent. As it is it's a near thing. I might be enabled with powers of perfect control but they are powers I have never exercised. I knew she was on the edge and that it would take only the touch of my venom on her tender clitoris to send her flying, but I hadn't been prepared for how completely her scent and the sight of her letting go would affect me.

Tightening the binds that control my reaction, I focus solely on her. She is too exquisite to dare miss any of this. As her pleasure fades I dip one finger to the entrance of her body, circling, teasing, and drawing more of her body's silky fluid onto my venom coated finger. When the last clenching spasm fades, I slide that finger inside her depths with a low throated growl as she tightens around it. The second finger pushes her past her comfort zone but I'm already moving my thumb to circle her, increasing her pleasure, coaxing her back into heat.

She cries out my name, moving against my hand. Growling harder, I lower my mouth to hers claiming it the way I'm claiming her body.

"Again, Bella. Come again for me, love." My demand is met perfectly as I curl my fingers upwards, finding the sensitive ridge on her upper wall. She shatters again and I add a third finger, pushing her harder, opening her body, preparing her for me as completely as I can. The barrier of her innocence teases the tip of my index finger when I withdraw, swamping me with the most primal male reaction.

Mine. No one has ever touched her this way. No one else ever will.

I remove my fingers slowly, carefully, missing the warmth and tightness immensely the second I do. My knees gently part her legs wider, my hands moving to cup her hips, lifting her, aligning her. I need her. I cannot possibly wait one more second for her, and yet somehow I do. Taking a moment to curl my hand around her soft cheek and sipping the last soft cry from her mouth, wanting her to feel loved, treasured. I run my fingers up her thigh and touch her gently one more time until I feel her tremble. I guide myself slowly to her core and wait for her to meet my eyes.

"Look at me, love." I moan as her honeyed heat engulfs the head of my erection. So soft, so fragile. I have to be so very careful now and I need her eyes open, her face uplifted so that I can read every nuance of her expression, recognize the difference between pleasure and pain.

She is still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasms. The tremors guide me deeper within her body, and her eyes widen at the sensation. Bracing one hand above her head to anchor my weight, I use the other to cup her hip. Steadying her, guiding her movements and keeping them contained lest she try too hard to take all of me too quickly.

Sharp little white teeth bite into the soft plumpness of her bottom lip as a small hiss of discomfort makes itself known. Forcing myself to stay still, I stroke her hip and thigh with the tips of my fingers. The pain is inevitable; nothing in my arsenal can prevent it. Holding her gaze I whisper her name and distract her by curling my fingers around her knee and drawing it upwards.

Her depths are scalding, nearly inconceivably hot and tight. My entire body trembles and aches with the need to take her. I've never known pleasure this intense and the urge to drive deep; to embed myself within her is consuming me.

Bella wraps her hands around my biceps, arching her back. A small mewl of her own restraint perfumes my air with her breath. She trembles hard, pleasure mingling with the pain.

"Edward, please. I need you..." She arches again and it is my turn to hiss as her movements take more of me inside. She is too tight; I'm going to tear her apart. I try to back away but she wraps the leg I don't hold around my hips and arches again.

I try to growl a warning. "Love, be still, don't..." She does it again. "Bella...God. Oh, sweetheart...angel..." My endearments are pants. I don't need the oxygen but her scent fills me and sustains me the way air cannot. I brace both hands above her now and force my body into immobility. When she arches again I grit my teeth, feeling muscles I should be able to control tremble as though they still have blood warming them, pulsing through them.

Bella arches again and we are nearly halfway there. I can feel the brush of that tiny veil of her hymen against me and I know it is stretched to the breaking point. One more push and I will destroy it forever. It makes me tremble harder. Still holding her gaze, I murmur her name like a question.

"Please," she whispers.

One tiny surge that uses only a minute fraction of my strength and it's done. She cries out once and I swallow the piercing sharpness with my mouth on hers, trying desperately to deter some part of her discomfort with bliss. She doesn't respond to the kiss, only lays still and silent, her eyes tightly closed, a furrow creasing her brow. I don't move at all, allowing her to adjust, letting the cool length of my body soothe her inside and out.

She exhales with a rush and goes limp. Unable to bear hurting her, I begin to withdraw but she instantly wraps both legs around me trying to stop it. Her eyes open again, tears trembling on her soft dark lashes.

"Don't stop." One of her arms reaches up, and she curls her fingers around my wrist while the other glides down my back and latches onto my buttock. Using me for leverage she begins to move her hips, slowly rocking back and forth over me. The pleasure of the friction is blinding, swelling me harder and harder inside of the tight, perfect sheathe of her body. I grit my teeth and lock my jaw. Torn, wanting her to take what she needs, wanting to allow her to have the control yet consumed by the need for more I growl loudly. Her eyes fall closed and she trembles all over.

"Edward, please," she begs, tearing down every defence, her plea sounding like a sob. I cannot resist her. Or maybe I just cannot fight what I want. Her. This. I begin to move; measuring the length of her, learning her shape, watching her pain become desire, focusing on her while a part of my mind goes insane with pleasure I am taking for myself.

She's like velvet. Tight hot wet velvet, clamping unbelievably hard around me, her inner muscles like heated bands of ever tightening silk. She rubs against every part of me, the scent of her skin grows sweeter with perspiration and my thirst roars to life, tangling with my lust. But the connection between us grows and my thirst is nothing. Nothing compared to her growing cries. Nothing compared to the feel of her becoming more and more fluid around me. Nothing at all compared to the sound of my name falling over and over again from her sweet ripe mouth.

"Bella...love." The ability to form coherent thought and words vanishes to a section of my mind I don't choose to use. I'm losing the fight to keep my movements slow, careful. She's tearing my will down with soft pleas for more, arching harder against me, begging now...

When she tightens around me again I can't deny her. Moving faster, deeper, withdrawing farther, and striving to balance her need for more with my waning control. Instinct is hard and insistent, urging me to go deeper, harder, faster. Instinct is dangerous. My hands are curling into fists, fingers tearing deeply into the pillow beneath her head. I leave the shreds and curl one of them beneath the small of her back. The other around metal instead. Metal on a headboard that feels no more substantial than the pillow or the impossibly delicate skin and bone beneath my other hand. The tortured groan of it twisting beneath my hand is hardly noticeable as Bella's cries grow louder. Her perfect beautiful body writhing now beneath mine, calling me, destroying me.

She's so fucking beautiful. Mine. Always, forever. An eternity of forever's.

The metal snaps, turning to iron dust in my grip. I find a new hold and angle my hips to hers, tighter, closer. The friction inside and out becomes sweeter, hotter. She's clenching around me now, velvet bands beginning to pulse. My own body throbs, warm in a way I've never felt since before my change. She's melting beneath me, soaking me in wet delectable heat. The thrill of it hardens me further, which only excites me more. Her body answers perfectly, back arching, delicate thighs trembling around my hips. I want to spill deep inside of her, the call so powerful it's glorious.

Not without her. She's so close. I can feel it, taste it in her mouth, on the skin of her neck. My throat burns and it's nothing. Meaningless, a weak tiny pathetic flame in a burning inferno.

Bella's eyes open to mine and I drown in their depths. The connection between us grows and solidifies from the inside out, and with one last thrust the entire world disintegrates. Dissolves in heat so intense it sears our skin, torches our bodies. Her body convulses around me, and mine around and inside of hers. It feels as though everything in my being is drawn out, liquefying and draining inside of her with intense, aching pulses of bursting pleasure.

She trembles around me harder, bathing me in heat and light and love. Lost with me, fear disintegrating in the gift of her complete trust. Together we dissolve, and when the individual pieces realign back into something solid our arms are our sanctuaries, our kisses the only sustenance either of us craves.

I can still feel the darkness clinging to the edges of the room as I release the headboard, cradling her close. It doesn't matter now. Let it cling.

We've just begun forever.


* Poem - A Woman Waits for Me, by Walt Whitman.