Thank you so much for all the alerts and reviews. Keep them coming.

The other brains behind this venture are Sunflower Fran & Alice's White Rabbit, who lend their talents to editing this.
RobsmyyummyCabanaboy and Deh are my pre-readers, plot coaches, shoulders to cry on, you name it, they do it.

Now, where did we leave our Mr Cullen last week? Oh, yes ... Back in Cornwall.

DISCLAIMER: I still don't own any of it.

CHAPTER 19

"If you pull on it any stronger, you'll be bald by the time your bride sees you."

I'd not even heard Emmett knock on my door, let alone enter.

I threw a murderous look at him from where I stood in front of my mirror, plagued by a rather unmanly attack of nerves. Even good old Jenks had had enough of my cantankerous arse and left me to my own devices.

"Are you here to comment on my nervous habits, or do you plan on making yourself useful?" I spat, struggling with the buttons of my waistcoat.

Alice, aided by Rosalie, had insisted I rely on the services of Emmett's tailor in Falmouth to get fitted for a new suit since I was getting married and all that. I'd tried to weasel myself out of it by pleading my case with Bella—to no avail alas. She'd said with a playful shrug that the decision was mine to make, and she had enough on her plate already to be thinking of which pair of tails I would or wouldn't be wearing on the day of our nuptials.

That conversation had taken place three weeks ago, right after our return from London. For all that we'd all spent the intervening weeks at Cullen Manor, I'd finagled precious little time with my bride—as Emmett just called her—because of the mounting demands on her time as the prospective mistress of the house.

First, there'd been the countless expeditions into Truro and Falmouth for wedding clothes—and from those, to my utter relief, I'd been not only exempt, but unceremoniously excluded. Then Jenks, of all people, and Alice, had snatched her away from me day in and day out because this or that thing needed "refashioning" around the house. Lastly, her belongings had to be moved from her original rooms into her new quarters.

I had graciously been included in that conversation when she'd approached me one day in the study while I went over my steward's dispatches from Jamaica. I remembered with fondness her shy voice as she shared her concerns with me. Alice had thought it a foregone conclusion that Bella and I would take over my parents' master bedroom—or rather, the suite of rooms that included my father's larger bedroom, my mother's sitting room, and the dressing rooms connected to them. But Bella had balked at the suggestion, believing that it would be somehow disrespectful to my parents' memory to take over their space so soon. I'd tried my best to allay her doubts, secretly hoping she'd give in before long since those rooms were the largest and most private of the house, being located far away from all the other bedrooms. Eventually, Jenks swayed her by telling her that those were supposed to be the missus's rooms, and since she was going to be the missus, they were hers by rights. At that point, Bella relented and let the old man and my sister make a fuss about renovating the rooms, and that was the end of it.

If I were being honest, there was a positive angle to the fact that Bella had been spending so much time away from me. I'd managed to sit down with Jasper for a couple of long afternoons we'd spent negotiating Bella's marriage articles—a feat that had left me even more in awe of the patrimony bequeathed to her by her father and of the stipulations he'd put on it so she'd never be swindled out of her fortune by a predatory husband or guardian. Whoever his lawyer had been, they deserved the highest praise. Far from me was even the merest idea of absconding Bella's wealth in any shape or form, but I hadn't been able to suppress a wry chuckle when I first contemplated all of Mr Swan's protective codicils. When I shared my reasoning with Jasper and Emmett, who'd agreed to witness the entire undertaking, they'd both erupted in cackles along with me. If Blackwood had thought marriage with Bella would have solved his financial woes, he surely thought wrongly.

My brother's towering figure appeared in front of me, blocking my reflection in the mirror and interrupting my train of thought.

"Even if you're behaving like an old curmudgeon, I thought I'd do you a good turn since it's your wedding day and all …" he began, as he fiddled with my waistcoat and shirt cuffs and scrutinized my appearance, all the while with mischief dancing in his ocean blue eyes.

"Ummph."

"Well, well, will you look at that? The boy is anxious," he quipped while adeptly adjusting my neckcloth.

Because I knew how he operated—and without a doubt he meant to goad me into a reaction—I was determined not to take his bait. But then, with anticipation clamping my hands into tight fists and my throat into jittery silence, I changed my mind. His teasing could be relentless but never mean-spirited; he just probably meant to lighten my mood. After all, my brother had been in my shoes before. He had to know.

"Yes, well … weren't you?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, and all hints of mischief disappeared from his countenance at once. "Yes. God, was I nervous."

"Because you were eloping?"

He shrugged, then leaned back to gather my suit from where Jenks had previously laid it on my bed.

When he didn't answer, I prodded him. "Did you have any doubts?"

He turned to look me in the eye, his expression at the same time projecting worry and indulgence. "Are you having any doubts, brother?"

I couldn't tell why the slightest suggestion of it irritated me, but it did. "No, goddamn it!" I yelled, pushing Emmett away from me. Then I composed myself somewhat, cognizant that I owed him an apology. "Forgive me. I forgot myself for a moment."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "But we've established you're not harbouring any doubts about marrying our fair Bella."

"Dear God in heaven, no! I love her more than my own life, Emmett. I just …"

Without a care for my new, stylish coat, he threw it on the bed, and beckoned me to take a seat. "Oh, I see now. You, my dear brother, are not nervous about getting married … Rather, it's the wedding night that has you all tangled up in knots, isn't it?"

I heaved a deep, tortured sigh. He'd hit the nail on the head. "I don't want to hurt her, Emmett."

"Physical pain is part and parcel of taking your wife's maidenhead, I'm afraid," he stated.

"Do you have to be so blunt about it, for God's sake? It's Bella we're talking about."

Unapologetic, he shrugged again before responding. "I've always been blunt, brother. You know me. But back to your quandary …"

I pinched the bridge of my nose as my irritation brewed into a bothersome headache—the last thing I wanted today. "And you'll be … or try to be … less indelicate?"

He raised his hands in a peacekeeping gesture, his previous impish grin now gone. "I promise to try, but the subject being what it is, and me being an indelicate oaf to begin with … Please bear with me and know I mean no disrespect."

I nodded and motioned for him to continue. "What is it that has you most nervous? Do you know …"

I stopped him as a warm wave of deep embarrassment coloured my cheeks. I'd heard enough about what went on in bawdy houses to be fairly … informed about congress without ever having engaged in it before. Kingston, after all, was a port town. Those goings-on often took place in broad daylight. My present fears lay elsewhere.

"I'm familiar with the mechanics, thank you. What if she's been fed the conventional pile of puritanical, prim and proper notions, and she's afraid of me? What if she spurns me or barely tolerates me? Or worse, if my desire … offends her?"

A shadow of unease clouded my brother's features from which I inferred that somehow my consternation mustn't sound so foreign to him. "Emmett? What's wrong, brother?"

He shook his head as if to dispel an unwelcome thought, then schooled his features before speaking. "Unfortunately, the puritanical hogwash might just be all she knows about it. But Bella … she's had an unusual upbringing, and she has a mind of her own. I don't picture her being … quietly passive. And that's as delicately as I can phrase it for your sensitive ears."

"That may be true, but how do I ensure …"

With a suddenly tortured look, he interrupted me. "I cannot tell you that. I'm not even sure I'm qualified to dispense advice on this, to be quite honest, when my own wife … but that's a different matter. Forget about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Until now, having seen him and his wife together on multiple social occasions over the last month or so, it had never occurred to me that their union might be other than happy and fulfilled. They painted a perfect picture of matrimonial harmony on the outside—he behaved as an attentive husband to her every need while Rosalie fawned and fussed over him to no end.

"Well, I'm hardly qualified either, but I'm a good listener."

Emmett looked at me, then averted his gaze and ran a nervous hand through his curly, close-cropped hair. "How do I say this without sounding like an ungrateful, lecherous cad?"

Now he harboured delicate sensibilities? "Shall we stipulate that I know you're definitely not one and proceed from there?"

He stood from his perch on my favourite chair to pace back and forth by the fireplace. At length, he stopped to face me. "To hell with it. You're my brother. If I can't talk to you about it, whom can I talk to then?"

"My point exactly."

He dropped like a deadweight into the chair he'd vacated minutes earlier and regarded me with an expression that spoke of longing and regret. "My Rose … she's had an entirely traditional upbringing. Her parents love her, but they … they're nothing like our parents, Edward. Our parents loved each other openly and fiercely. The Hales, not so much. Their match was arranged by their families, and they went along with it, found an amicable way of living together, but … they've never loved each other. Mr Hale had dalliances in his younger years, and while he went about it discreetly, Mrs Hale never let him forget it. She's carried the betrayal and shame with her like a millstone around her neck and despised him for straying ever since. They've slept in separate bedrooms since they wed. That kind of married life is all Rosalie has ever experienced. So we sleep in separate rooms. She allows me to 'visit' her a few times a month and then promptly dismisses me to my quarters. And though she loves me, she cannot bring herself …"

For a moment, the thought of Bella being reserved, unfeeling, or worse, unable to reciprocate my affection to the point that she'd keep her distance at all times hit me with crippling pain, and I could not but empathise with my brother's plight.

"Is that why you're so adamant about removing her from her parents' influence?"

Without raising his eyes to look at me, he nodded. "Among other things, yes. I don't know how to help her otherwise. I know there's nothing unusual to her behaviour, in her eyes. It's all she's ever known, and it's the conduct expected of a lady. I just …. I just want my wife to want me, dammit."

I didn't know how to help him either—but one thing did occur to me. "It may or may not work, but …"

"I'll try anything at this point. I look at you and Bella and wonder why you're the one here being nervous. The two of you behave with each other like you're wed already. She almost reads your mind, for heaven's sake. How did you even achieve that?"

"We talk a great deal. Bella abhors being ordered about—as you know—but is receptive to other ideas if I discuss them with her instead of arranging things behind her back. Maybe involving Rosalie more closely in decisions that affect both of you might help? Let her know her parents' way is not the only way. She might need time."

He listened intently, nodding to himself as I talked. When I finished, he raised his gaze to meet mine, wonderment painted all over his features. "You know, you might need to take your own advice there."

My brow furrowed in confusion; I turned to him. "How so?"

"Well, talk to Bella about … your desires. The girl's about as outspoken as I am. What's the worst that can happen? For all I know about her, she may surprise you."

I thought about all the times I'd been … overcome with longing as I held Bella in my arms and kissed her. She'd never been reticent or unreceptive. She'd never spurned me. In fact, she'd been as eager as I was. "You may have a point, Emmett. If I can't talk to her about it, whom can I talk to then?"

He stood and held my coat out to me. "It's settled then. Let's go get the two of you married, brother."

Of the hour-long wedding rite, one moment branded itself into my memory forevermore—the moment I took my bride's hand in mine and bestowed my mother's emerald ring on her as a token of my troth.

"With this ring, I thee wed; with my body, I thee worship; and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

As I beheld my Isabella—my wife—standing radiant at my side, unshed happy tears in her eyes, her dainty hand quivering within my larger but no firmer grasp, the rest of the minister's proclamations were lost on me, except his last words.

"Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder."

"Mrs Cullen."

I seemed unable to call her any other way today, still revelling in the joy of knowing we'd made it thus far. Bella and I were married.

"Yes, Mr Cullen?" she replied, her eyes twinkling with elation as she accepted another cup of punch from my hands.

"You look positively radiant today, my love. I don't think I've mentioned it yet."

We'd managed to evade the company of the few friends and family who still lingered around the garden of Cullen Manor after the wedding breakfast. The Hales had already left and taken Lady Holcombe with them.

"Well, consider your grievous oversight remedied. Thank you," she whispered, lacing her fingers through mine.

"It's time I hold Emmett to his promise and let him take everyone else off our hands for the night. What do you think?"

Part of Emmett and Rosalie's wedding gift had been to take over hosting duties for our house guests by inviting all of them to stay at Treverva Lodge, so Bella and I could enjoy one another in the coming days since we'd elected not to take a wedding tour at this time.

She lowered her gaze, suddenly shy of me. Or perhaps she was prey to the same anticipation I'd been feeling? "Let me take my leave of them then."

I nodded, unwilling to part with her but well aware that it'd be temporary, before I walked away to impart my final instructions for the household. "Very well. I'll see them all off, and then join you in our room, Mrs Cullen."

"You do seem to like the appellation," she said, slowly closing her eyes while a beatific smile formed on her luscious lips. Lips I'd longed to kiss without restraint since we left church.

"I do," I said, kissing her temple. "Most fervently. There will be … a surprise waiting for you in our room."

She untangled herself from my embrace, and with an arm perched on her hip, Bella regarded me like the lad who'd been caught stealing pastries. "Not another wedding present, Edward!" she protested, jabbing a commanding finger in my direction, but from the mirth dancing in her eyes, I knew her heart wasn't in it.

"It's my job as your husband to anticipate your needs. This is me, anticipating one of your future needs. Please don't deprive me of that pleasure, Mrs Cullen."

This gift had been the last, and most elaborate, of my presents to Bella for our wedding. She'd only moderately grumbled at the expense and trouble she believed I'd gone through for the other gifts, but I'd silenced her with kisses so far. I'd had a brand new saddle made for her to ride Dark Fire—a regular one, for I knew she cared little for riding side-saddle; then came the emerald earrings paired with her wedding ring, which she both accepted because they'd belonged to Esme; and lastly, I'd been in contact with a renowned local painter who'd take her likeness—at that she'd drawn the line, and called it an extravagant, pretentious idea. But this latest present had required more planning, though I had no doubt she'd find it congenial. At least, she wouldn't deny the practicality of it in the long run.

"You seem to have put a lot of thought into all your gifts, and I've loved them all so far. I don't want to seem ungrateful—it's the furthest thing from the truth. I'm not used to being so … spoiled."

I wound my arms around her waist and touched my forehead to hers, bringing her closer to me. "Get used to it, Mrs Cullen. I'll see you upstairs."

It took me the better part of another hour to usher my exasperating brother, his wife, my sister, and her prospective betrothed—after today, I had absolutely no doubt of that—out the door so I could join my wife.

The anxious anticipation that had almost crippled me in the morning had by now evaporated into an almost electric excitement. Now, with every fibre of my being, I ached for Bella. I longed for her, burned to finally make her mine.

Jenks murmured some ribald joke about my eagerness when he saw me ascending the steps two at a time. I shouted my goodnight at him from the top of the stairs, along with an order that Mrs Cullen and I were not to be disturbed the next day. It only resulted in another peal of cackling laughter at my expense.

I paused in front of our bedroom for a spell, and after a moment's deliberation, I walked into my dressing room instead. There, I threw my tails and waistcoat on the clothes stand nearby where they landed in a haphazard pile. Then, I fidgeted with my neckcloth until my trembling fingers cooperated and, once I had it undone, flung that onto the same pile. My boots came next. With my shirt and cuffs undone, divested of my formal attire, my skin felt alive, almost feverish. I took a deep, cleansing breath, donned my favourite banyan, and then pushed open the door connecting to the newly appointed master bedroom.

Once inside, I took in the sight before me. Bella's wedding gown, folds and folds of ivory silk and blue trim, lay neatly on a nearby bench. Cloaked in a dressing gown that grazed the floor, Bella sat at her dressing table while young Angela Weber extracted pin after pin from her hair as it gradually fell in loose curls on her shoulders, liberated from the confines of the elaborate coiffure she'd showed off for the day.

A couple weeks ago, I'd overheard Bella telling Alice how much she would have liked to have Weber back at her side now that she'd have her own establishment. With the intent of giving my Bella her heart's every desire, I enlisted Jasper's help in communicating with Mrs Padmore to arrange Weber's removal to Cullen Manor. She'd arrived earlier in the day to resume her duties as Bella's maid. This was my last surprise for my wife, who finally heard me close the door and turned in my direction.

"Edward, you're here," she whispered, extending her hand towards me as I approached.

Weber curtsied to me, and then went back to her work when I came to stand behind Bella, leaning against one of the bedposts. But this wouldn't do. Now that it was at all proper for me to do so, I longed to run my hands through my wife's hair instead of watching her lady's maid at it.

"Thank you, Weber. That will be all," I addressed the maid, hoping she'd take my meaning and disappear. She stopped but looked at Bella for confirmation. Bella hesitated—was it because she was also nervous or because she'd rather not follow my lead? I couldn't tell, but when Weber appeared to object, I stopped her again.

"I shall see to Mrs Cullen, Weber. Thank you." Young Angela curtsied again at both of us and took her leave.

When the door clicked closed behind her, I finally laid my hands on Bella's shoulders. "May I, my love?"

She looked at me with a timid smile from her reflection in the mirror. "It's not a man's work."

"I wish to attend to my wife. In all things," I replied, and with an unsteady but delicate hand, I extricated more pins from her hair, every time running my fingers through the strands to untangle them.

"Your brush, my love?" She handed it to me, and I proceeded to run it through her mane, marvelling at the silken texture of it. "Your hair is so soft, like a cloud of silk. I've yearned to touch it for so long." My fingers replaced the movement of the brush, and I buried my face in her tresses, breathing in her tantalising essence.

Sighing, Bella kept her eyes on me—or rather, on my reflection—then turned to face me. I captured her lips without warning and deepened the kiss when I felt her hands feverishly clutch mine. She rose from her seat, falling into my embrace as she sighed again when my arms wound around her waist under her dressing gown, where her stays and undergarments still encased her figure. I rained a trail of delirious kisses down her neck while her hands gripped my shirt until she pulled it out of my trousers. I couldn't stifle a wanton moan when her fingers trailed down the naked skin of my back for the first time.

And that's when I remembered Emmett's advice and slowed my advances before my baser desires got the better of me. I pressed a tender kiss to her lips again, walked us back to the bed, and pulled her to sit on my lap so I could hold her in my arms while we talked.

"My love, before we take this any further, there's something I wish to discuss with you. I would have done it sooner had I been at liberty to do so."

"Is anything the matter, Edward?" she asked, furrowing her brow at my somewhat ominous opening while she ran random patterns on my back where her hands still hovered over my heated skin.

"It's a rather indelicate question, my love."

She raised an eyebrow at my comment. "We are wed, Edward. There's hardly any indelicate subjects between husband and wife."

I shook my head minutely at her matter-of-fact answer. Her attitude had just proven Emmett's assumption to be correct. I kissed her again, unable to help myself. "Very well, my love. Here goes. I know you resisted us taking over these rooms for our own use, and you gave me your good reasons for it. I'd just like to know whether there were any … other reasons that would lead you to prefer not sharing a room with me."

I'd taken quite a roundabout way to tackle the topic, and my confirmation lay there in Bella's puzzled expression. How could I convey my doubts without offending her?

"No, Edward. None at all. I thought you'd wish us to share a room. Unless … unless now you don't? Wish to share a bed with me, that is?" she asked shyly, parsing her words with unease as if the thought sounded unwelcome to her. What a brainless cad, I had offended her—led her to think I didn't want her.

"There is nothing I wish more than for us to share a room … share our bed. But I'll be honest, Bella. I have no idea what notions you have of married life, and I'm afraid those might differ from mine. I swear, I would have broached the subject before now, but … well, I wasn't about to speak of such things before we were wed, my love. I'm making a mess of all this, forgive me. I'm just afraid …"

"Afraid of what, my beloved? We've always been good friends, you and I. That shall not stop now. On the contrary, no subject is barred to us now as man and wife. Especially here—this is our room, our own sacred space. No one interferes here. Talk to me, Edward," she entreated me, tenderly cradling my face in her hands, pleading with me to unburden my thoughts onto her with her eyes, so full of love and devotion. My wife—my darling Isabella.

"Oh, my love. You truly are my most precious treasure," I whispered. "I've loved you and ached for you for so long. I'm only anxious … that you won't want me as much as I do you. I don't know what you've been told, or taught, or what you expect … Do my desires … offend you in any way, my love?"

Still cradling my face in her hands, she pressed a tender kiss to my lips and shook her head before speaking. "I was fortunate enough to be raised by parents who loved each other, and I witnessed their love every day until they died. That's how I'd wish our life to be, Edward. My place is at your side and in your bed."

Dammit to Emmett for calling it like it was. If he knew, he'd never let me forget it. But then again, why in hell was I thinking of Emmett at this moment when my wife's alluring form was melded to me, and I could think of nothing else besides unveiling her, layer after tantalising layer?

Bella trailed a hand down my neck and rested it on my naked chest where my shirt lay open. Her touch branded me like fire. "Oh, Bella, I love you. And I want you, my love …" I laid my own hand over hers, entwining our fingers together. "My heart, it beats for you. And my body … longs for yours."

"I've longed for you as much as you've longed for me, Edward," she whispered onto my lips. "I have no idea how to show you, though. I know some things are expected of wives ..."

"I have no expectation but to love you. I made a vow today, to worship you with my body. And that's what I intend to do. Shall we learn together, my love?"

"Yes," she sighed, rising from her perch on my lap.

I followed suit and stood to join her. Slowly, with a silent question in her beckoning eyes, she gestured to my banyan, and then pushed it off me until it fell to the floor in a heap.

"May I?" I asked, laying my hands on her shoulders again. When she nodded her assent, I ran my fingers down her neck until I reached the tops of her dressing gown. I grasped the gossamer-like fabric and slid it off her figure.

She twisted one of her arms around her back, and it dawned on me that she was reaching for the laces of her stays. Again, I pleaded for her permission with my eyes and turned her within my embrace so she'd face away from me. I stilled her hand with mine and laid a whisper of a kiss to her now exposed collarbone. "Allow me, my love." She nodded, grasping one of the bedposts for support. My hands grazed down the length of her back until I met the ends of those ties and proceeded to undo them, first untying the knot, and then loosening them bit by alluring bit.

Bella sighed as the corset, now loose around her chest, started to slide off her figure. I stepped closer to her, and with my arms wound around her waist, I pushed it off her until it fell by her feet. She stepped away from it and flung herself into my arms again.

"Oh, Edward," she whispered, letting her eyes roam over my figure. "I want …"

Embracing her again, and nearly overcome with the enticing sensation of feeling her naked skin through the thin fabric of her chemise as my hands also roamed over her back, I replied in enraptured gasps. "What, my love? What do you want?"

After I voiced my question, she hid her face in my chest. "See you …"

In one excited gesture, I reached for my shirt collar and wrenched the blasted thing off me. "May I see you, my love?" I asked while her hands hungrily glided down my chest.

Until now I'd been able to neglect my own craving, lost as I was in discovering every detail of her as they appeared before me in their tantalising perfection. But as her fingers traced the outlines of my pectoral muscles and grazed my nipples in their descent, I hissed at the contact, and for the first time tonight, I felt my erect member twitch within the narrow, uncomfortable confines of my trousers.

"Bella … Oh, God … I need …"

"Yes, Edward?" my minx replied, bestowing a forward open-mouthed kiss to my chest.

"Love, I need to see you too …"

Those words left my lips in a garbled torrent of want, but by some miracle, my Bella caught my meaning and stepped away. A ribbon around the neckline kept her chemise in place. Slowly, as I gathered the length of it in one hand and ran my fingers up her side, I undid the ribbon until the last remnant of her modesty fell off her shoulders before my eyes.

I clutched her closer to me, lifting her in my arms to lead her to our bed until we fell on the upturned covers in an excited, frenzied heap of roaming hands and lips. I rolled us over to the centre of our bed and finally allowed myself to look down on her as she lay beneath me.

With the silken cloud of her hair fanned around her visage, she looked to be floating. Eagerness or shyness bloomed in almost crimson hues over the otherwise alabaster skin of her chest and breasts. And her breasts … dear God in heaven, her breasts …

When I lowered my lips to her bosom and took one rosy nipple in my mouth, her moans drowned me in a deluge of pride—despite my inexperience, my bride was finding plenty of pleasure in the experience so far.

"Edward …"

Her hands tugged at the waistband of my trousers. Since she'd teased me, I thought I'd give back as good as I got. "Help me with those, love?"

"Yes," she hissed, arching her back into my touch while my hands travelled lower, and lower, until I found her mound. She jolted around my fingers as I probed her folds—that was the one useful thing I'd gathered from any tawdry talk I'd overheard in the past, checking for readiness—and a shivering moan vibrated through her as she fell back; with frantic movements, she entangled her legs with mine, helping me kick off my last, offending garment.

I gazed into her eyes, still brimming with such depths of devotion, love, and trust that I felt moved almost to tears through the fog of my arousal. While I murmured words of love onto her skin, and she replied in kind with kisses, I positioned myself between her legs.

"Oh, Bella, my love … I can't …"

"Edward, please …" she exhaled. She prodded me along by brazenly laying a hand on my buttock.

Involuntarily, I pushed my hips against her. "I don't want to hurt you, darling … but it can't be helped …"

"Please … beloved …"

That word on her lips undid any shred of restraint I had left, and in one quick thrust, I entered her. I paused, giving her a minute to adapt and myself the time to gather my wits lest I shamed myself irrevocably and reached my peak before we'd even begun. I couldn't resist kissing her but moved off to the side to lean on my elbow so my weight wouldn't crush her in my fervour.

"Did I hurt you, my love?"

"No," she breathed with a watery smile. "Please …" she entreated me, cradling my face in her hand.

Her heat enveloped me and set my body on fire. My member pulsed inside her, and when I could no longer hold still, I thrust deeper until I felt some resistance and—because I reckoned prolonging her pain wouldn't be an advisable option—I gave in to my desire and pushed past it until I was joined to her to the hilt.

"Sweet Christ, Isabella …"

"Oh, Edward …" she moaned, one hand still firmly planted on my gluteus, and pushed me forward as her back arched farther into me.

Fuelled purely by desire and instinct, I hitched her leg onto my hip and drove into her as a torrent of murmured words of love interspersed with curses tumbled out of my lips.

Suddenly, Bella's breathing pattern changed, and her sounds grew shallower and more disjointed as her movements started to match mine. "Edward, yes …"

When my name fell from her lips like a prayer, and I felt her flutter and constrict around my pulsing cock, something inside me snapped, triggering my release all too soon for my liking. I came with a triumphant roar. "Bella …"

Half drowning in my post-coital euphoria, half disappointed that I'd most certainly robbed Bella of her own release, I rolled off her just so I wouldn't crush her. I gathered her to my side and ran my fingers through her now utterly tangled mane.

"Dear God in heaven, Isabella …"

"I'm so happy, Edward …" Her response began as a sigh and ended in a girlish giggle before she laid her head on my chest.

"Are you, my love? You didn't … finish, did you?"

She ran a hand through the smattering of auburn hair on my chest before answering. "I … I don't really know, Edward. But it felt really … good." Her last words were muffled by her movements as she bestowed lingering kisses along my collarbone. I'd not completely disappointed her, but we had definite room for improvement.

She burrowed her face into the crook of my neck, throwing her arm around me. "I guess I'll have to do better by you next time, my love. Pardon my eagerness."

"I love the feel of your skin under my touch …" she murmured again, almost slurring her words.

"Your touch feels like fire, my love. It ignites me."

"Impossible," she teased with an impish smile.

Before I could concoct a witty retort, she moved to pull the covers over us and failed to hide a rather unladylike yawn.

"Did I wear you out, Mrs Cullen?"

She raised her gaze to meet mine. "Well, no, but it's been a rather long day, so …"

"So, my love?"

Mirth shone in her eyes where specks of gold reflected the light of the candles among a sea of warm, inviting chocolate depth. "Maybe we should replenish our strength for a spell?"

"And then?" Teasing was irresistible now that she was being so open and free with me.

"More of this, perhaps? For the sake of … improvement?" she asked, as I felt a dainty foot run the length of my naked leg.

"You shall be my undoing, love."

We got them married.

Talk to me, people!

ANNOUNCEMENT:

One of our own - Carey Anne Williams - is recovering from COVID-19. As a fandom, we have decided to help however we can in the fundraising effort to help with her medical bills.
We will be doing virtual author panels as Zoom calls—the chance to talk to your favorite authors and ask them all manner of questions. Yours truly will be on the August 16 Zoom call, so if you have any questions for me, on this story, on what comes next, this is your golden opportunity.
All you need to do is make a donation of at least $5 to Carey Williams Go fund me page (www . gf . me /u/x4b6my) and email your receipt to: authors4carey gmail .com
You can also find more information about the calls, the participating authors and how to join in this FB group, Authors' 411: www . facebook groups / 179090090169978/

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