**Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the Twilight Saga depicted in this story are the legal property of Stephenie Meyer, Summit Entertainment, and Little, Brown & Company, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

Chapter 3: Pandora's Box, Rattling

[on a scrap of glossy paper resembling liner notes, glued to the top of the page, lyrics from the OMD song "Pandora's Box"; you used to play it sometimes during drives in the Volvo until Bella accidentally dropped the CD down a flight of concrete stairs at school and the disc was ruined]

Only seventeen when all your dreams came true
But all you wanted was someone to undress you
And all the stars you kissed could never ease the pain
Still the grace remains and though your face has changed
You're still the same

And it's a long long way from where you want to be
And it's a long long road, but you're too blind to see

—

A New Husband

At first, I wasn't sure how seriously I should take Edward's offer to fulfill my fantasies. I knew how much he liked to spoil me, give me every little thing I wanted, but frankly, the one area that impulse had never extended was the bedroom. The idea he might be opening up to that…God, it made me shiver.

But then I remembered all the things my fantasies entailed and that sobered me right up.

So, I didn't mention it. That one experience had been more than I'd ever thought I'd get, and I could be content if it was the only fantasy we role-played.

Three days after the afternoon in the meadow, I was folding some laundry when Edward approached from behind and wrapped his arms around me. He brushed his lips against my neck in a line from my collarbone up to my jaw. The nerves underneath my skin thrilled with electric current.

"Have you thought about it?" he murmured in my ear. At the feel of his breath and the tone of his voice, my knees sagged.

"Hmm?" I managed faintly.

He lifted my hair out of the way and dropped sensual, open-mouthed kisses on the nape of my neck.

Oh, Lord.

"Do you have another fantasy that you want me to make come true?"

And then he pressed his erection into my ass. My eyes widened. Holy…shit. Who was this man?

"You…you really want to?" My voice was uneven as his fingers stroked the bare skin of my arm, up to my shoulder, down to my wrist.

He chuckled into my hair. "Of course. I liked doing that for you. It was fun."

The memory flashed through my mind of his admission that when he'd said "fun," he meant "hot"—then the way he had hardened inside me at the mere idea of more.

"I-I, uh…." Clearing my throat, I tried to steady my voice. "Yes, I have others. Let me think about it."

Unable to restrain myself, I spun in his arms and launched myself at him. He lifted my thighs around his waist, pressed my back to the wall, and took me right then and there.

So…he had just instigated in the middle of the day, right? I wasn't crazy. He had definitely instigated at two o'clock in the afternoon.

It wasn't the first time, but he didn't do it often, and he'd never done it like that. As though he had been off somewhere else thinking dirty thoughts about me and then sought me out because he couldn't wait a second longer, already hard and ready to go.

That idea drove me wild. It was such a lovely dream come true, and if that was the response our game had inspired in him, I could swoon. He brought up my fantasies again the next day and I began to trust that he really wanted to continue. Or rather, that he thought he did.

I couldn't narrow down quite what was exciting him. It couldn't be the role-playing—at least, I didn't think it was. I had trouble imagining my serious Edward getting enjoyment out of playing pretend.

Dirty talk ramblings he made against my neck while fucking me in the laundry room became the basis for a more likely conjecture.

"Always thinking about this" —he emphasized with a brutal thrust that knocked the wind from me and would have bruised my poor pussy if only I could bruise— "aren't you?" Thrust. "Fantasizing. Wet for me…" Thrust. "Hot for me." His grip dug into the flesh of my thighs and I was helpless to do anything but take it. "Mine."

I immediately descended into orgasm, the kind that electrocuted my whole body and left me limp and whimpering.

Of course, Edward had no idea he was being so rough. He would have been horrified to realize he was hurting me, but in the moment he was carried away, wrapped up in his own lust and pleasure. I bit my lip to smother any cries of pain, because I knew the instant he heard them, he would stop. I didn't want him to—I loved it when sex was like this. It was rare that he lost control of his body in the heat of passion and I cherished every second.

Besides, it wasn't a big deal. The pain wasn't that bad—he wasn't trying to hurt me, and any surface damage he did healed instantly. And maybe…. Well, I'd never admit it, but I was starting to notice that a little pain always took my orgasm to the next level.

Edward losing his head like that was a big deal. Usually I had to push and push his control, tease and tempt him for hours to get him there, so it was seismic if thinking about our meadow game had brought that side out of him all on its own. I began to develop a hypothesis that maybe it was the fact that my fantasies were concrete evidence of my desire. They were documentation that I had spent our courtship in heat for him, that I had lingered over scenarios of the two of us while I touched myself, and maybe knowing that did things to him.

It was a thrilling theory, and one that flew in the face of all my conventional wisdom from the past three years. I had expended so much energy hiding and downplaying my lustful feelings, convinced that, at best, he would feel burdened by my desire—that he would outright judge me at worst. Regardless, the whole time, I had operated under the assumption that, well…he knew anyway, right? He had to. I was terrible at keeping things from him, and with his keen senses and hyper-vigilance of my every movement, breath, and change in blood pressure, he had to have known how hard up I was but was just too polite to say anything.

Yet, if his behavior now was any indication, maybe not. Maybe he had been aware of the way my pulse would speed, the way I would fidget and tremble, without understanding what it all actually meant. He hadn't grasped the effect he had on me, not really. Not the extent, not the magnitude. Somehow, he'd spent hours upon hours with me, oblivious to the fact that my panties were a sopping wet mess the whole time.

What had he thought? That I was frightened? Perpetually anxious or stressed? If so, he was ridiculous.

And did his nose work at all? Sometimes the scent of my arousal was so strong even I, with my human limitations, caught a whiff of it. All I could think was that the smell of my blood had been so powerful it effectively made him scent-blind. Either that or my arousal had been so constant he just thought that was how I smelled. Both explanations left me feeling mortified, so I pushed the question from my mind. Regardless of the reason, he had a much easier time catching when I was turned on post-transformation and had even commented in our pillow talk how he found the scent pleasant and comforting.

I tested the waters on my hypothesis that Edward liked hearing about how he made me feel, slipping in little details here and there, in and out of the bedroom. Nothing too specific or graphic. Just general comments about how badly I wanted him, how good he felt. And yeah, he liked me talking about how horny I was. It revved his engine, even pushed him over the edge of climax sometimes.

I was beginning to get the impression that Edward had been more oblivious than anything. It was possible that he wasn't so much repulsed or judgmental about my sexual appetite—just inexperienced, like me, but in different ways. That was a tempting interpretation and it made sense. Edward strove so hard to be gentle and considerate with my body and my feelings, of course he would never want me to feel ashamed or unwanted.

The new question was, how far was too far now? It still went without saying that Edward would find the most extreme of my fantasies and fetishes beyond the pale. His eagerness told me that he might find many of them stimulating though, the way he had enjoyed our time in the meadow.

I reminded myself that I wasn't a full-blown sexual deviant who only got off on being my boyfriend's prey. I had plenty of fantasies that wouldn't raise an eyebrow in even the most vanilla of bedrooms. I would focus on those.

Idly, I started jotting down a list. I deliberately kept it vague, just in case. Secrets were a difficult thing to keep in a small cottage with a mind-reading husband—even if he couldn't access my thoughts unless I wanted him to.

List here reproduced with my thoughts as commentary, which were not included on the original document, denoted in parentheses.

First time he brought me to the meadow (This one was right out, completely out. Nothing had ever been more out. My fantasy was that he had brought me there to take me as his in the bodice-ripper, cautionary fairy tale about the girl and the monster sense of the word. Bluntly, to fuck me ragged and raw in the grass. That he would pin my wrists, growl in my ear that I was his, and just take whatever he wanted. Even if that meant my blood. Yeah…Edward would be horrified, disgusted, and he would never look at me the same again.)

Camping with sleeping bag and tent (This one should be okay. Edward might even really enjoy it. It was all about revisiting the hours before the big battle with Victoria and playing out an alternate scenario where I could spend the night in the sleeping bag with him instead of Jake.)

Romeo and Juliet on the couch (Also probably okay. Just a little wishful revisionism that more had gone on between us under the blanket than handholding the day we watched the movie for school.)

Edward's bed in the big house (A fantasy that my seduction had worked the night he proposed to me. Maybe okay—as long as I was clear to let Edward know that I didn't resent or regret respecting his wish to wait.)

Biology classroom (Yeah, no. Not a chance.)

Gazebo at the edge of school grounds (Skipping an assembly and getting fingerbanged in the gazebo by my boyfriend for an hour was probably less far-fetched than Edward allowing me to grope his dick in a crowded classroom and then drag him into a supply closet for a blow job, but not by much. I can't say that I was all that eager to revisit school grounds for fantasies either, so it was probably all for the best.)

Forest pond by the field of wild daisies (I already knew Edward was receptive to skinny dipping, so this one was probably a go.)

My old bed/bedroom (These were mostly variations of Edward watching me, seducing me, or letting me seduce him those nights we'd spent in my room. He wouldn't like them at all, as they specifically fetishized his vampire and predator aspects, but just as big an issue was access—my old bedroom was no more and I was not about to be going back to Charlie's house for sex. That would be…very weird.)

Then there was all of the car sex I had dreamed up.

My truck cab (Well, my dearly departed truck was long gone, so that was out.)

Edward's Volvo back seat - skipping biology and/or prom night (We did still have the Volvo, so there was that. And I could see him being receptive given that he liked to fool around every time he took me for a ride in his Vanquish. I think the speed got him going. But I was sentimental for his Volvo; the Aston Martin was flashy, sure, but there was no context for me there.)

I found myself staring at the list, expecting more to come to me. They didn't. Even after a couple of days wracking my brain.

My pen hesitated over writing anything down about Edward biting me, my conversation with Charlotte was sharp with clarity in my mind in a way that only vampire memories could be. But ultimately, I decided no, it wasn't worth it. Edward might find the list someday and he could never know. Besides, him biting me was just a recurring dream I'd had as a misguided human girl. A dream that provoked an orgasm so intense it woke me up most of the time, but a dream nonetheless—not a fantasy.

I counted. Ten. Eleven or twelve if I got more than one fantasy out of a couple of the premises. That…seemed low. I had an active imagination and no outlet for my sexual frustration for a while there, other than rubbing one out as quickly and quietly as possible during my limited free moments. I remembered having what felt like countless fantasies in my rotation.

I kept pulling the list out, hoping to jog my memory and add another item. That was how Alice found it the afternoon I was packing a bag for Renesmee to spend the night with Charlie. She danced into my kitchen and somehow went right for it.

Most of the Cullens had the good manners to knock before entering, but Alice and Emmett had a spotty track record.

"What's this?" she asked, eyes scanning the page. "Oh!" Her eyebrows raised and she set it aside. "Never mind."

I was immediately suspicious. Dropping in unannounced was one thing, but she wasn't even bothering with a lame excuse. Had she come because I wrote the list and she saw some outcomes pop up in her visions?

"Really, Alice?"

"What?" she responded with wide-eyed innocence.

I sighed. It was useless trying to keep things from a best friend who could see the future. "Is it bad?" I asked quietly. "Does it go bad? Because I am more than happy to burn this thing and never look at it again."

"No!" She placed a protective hand over the sheet of paper. "At least, it shouldn't. I think you have a good sense of what he would be receptive to." She grinned apologetically and came clean. "I wasn't trying to snoop, but if you move forward with this, it's going to take up a lot of space in your near future. It was impossible not to see the impact when I was running my normal checks for the family. You're going to need a babysitter more often than usual, for one thing."

"Are you offering?"

Alice made a face before she could stop herself. But then she smoothed her features and summoned her best aunt persona. "Sure, if you need me to."

I smiled. "It's okay, Alice. I'll ask Rose."

To her credit, she tried her best to hide her relief. I didn't begrudge her. I knew Alice loved Renesmee, but she was out of her element with small children.

Approaching the table where she stood, I chewed my lip and studied the paper. "I don't know what I'm doing," I confessed.

Alice shook her head. "That's not true."

"This part of our relationship has always been…temperamental. Things are finally good. I don't want to screw it up."

Patting my arm, Alice said, "It's worth it. Knowing each other, trusting each other fully when it comes to something as intimate as sex is worth it."

I swallowed, feeling skeptical.

"Wouldn't it be nice not to feel insecure about every little thing you want, every little thing you enjoy with him?" she prodded kindly.

I wasn't sure how exactly she had managed to so completely hit the nail on the head, and I didn't want to know. I'd rather not have details of what she had seen and not seen. Drawing in a deep breath to gather courage, I asked for reassurance one more time. "It'll be okay? I won't ruin everything?"

Alice paused. "Bella, you know that's not how this works. I can't promise that."

"So you did see futures where this all went wrong."

"Of course," she said, entirely too flippantly. "I always do. But they weren't the most likely outcomes."

I nodded absently, mixed up with dread and anticipation.

"You know him really well, Bella. Stick to what you think he'd be open to, and you'll do fine."

Trembling, I traced a finger down the side of the list. Suddenly, all of it seemed riskier than before.

"Choose something you think will be safe, but also fun," she encouraged.

I snorted. My finger paused beside the word prom. "Alice, you wouldn't happen to have the outfits Edward and I wore to prom, would you?"

"Of course! I never donate or sell off pieces that have sentimental value."

"May I have them?"

"Sure." Her eyes glazed in a way that told me she was looking at a vision and not me, the person in front of her. Tapping my arm, she instructed, "Choose that one. The prom one."

I hesitated, unsure if I was really ready to put everything on the line in this way, but did as she asked. I knew I wasn't locked in—I could change my mind at any time.

She brightened. "Oh, he'll like that one!"

"Don't be weird, Alice."

Blinking until her eyes became clear again, Alice shook her head. "I didn't get into the details or anything. I don't want images of you and Edward having sex in my head any more than you do—eww. I'm just feeling out how he will respond because you look so nervous you could hurl and I want you to feel more confident."

Softening, I smiled at my friend. "Thanks, Alice."

—

Trust Fall

I tried to focus on other things after she left, namely getting Renesmee ready for her sleepover. Still, I was definitely aware that, with our daughter out of the house, tonight was a prime opportunity to perhaps try another of my fantasies. I told myself there was no pressure. All signs pointed to Edward being eager to explore further, and Alice had outright reassured me that the future looked as clear as could be expected, yet the queasy worry would not go away. It didn't matter how many times I told myself it was irrational.

I still hadn't made my mind up one way or another about proposing another fantasy when I arrived home, but my hand was forced. Fancy garment bags were stacked on my kitchen table.

Edward confirmed what I already dreaded. "Alice dropped them off. She said you wanted them."

His face—he knew. I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. So much for going at my own pace. "She told you."

"Not really," he denied.

Then his gentle touch was at my wrists, pulling so that he could see my eyes. His arms brought me in close and his expression was so open, so kind, I was immediately comforted.

He explained, "No details, but I deduced that it might be related to what we talked about in the meadow. Our next game?"

There was nothing to do but come clean. "I hadn't decided for sure. It was more just something I was thinking about. Tonight seemed like it might be a good time."

"Because Renesmee is sleeping at Charlie's?"

I nodded.

He lifted me by the hips against his strong body and walked us both to the table, setting me down to sit beside the garment bags. "I confess to being a little blindsided. You didn't want to go to prom. Alice and I basically had to kidnap you. And now I find you have a fantasy you want to play out?"

Did he think my reluctance had all been a ruse now? I laughed involuntarily. "It's not like that."

"Not like what?"

"Not like I secretly wanted to go to prom all along." I attempted to explain, keeping him close, one arm around his neck, fingers in his hair. "This fantasy wasn't something I thought up before. It came after, when Angela and Jessica were telling me about their nights. Angela lost her virginity to Ben. Jessica didn't go all the way, but she went further than she had before. I started to think of what a similar night would have looked like for us." I sighed, wistful in spite of myself. "So, it was thought up post hoc, and I added to it, changed it over time, until it seemed like something that could have happened. Just, it didn't."

Of course, Edward immediately reminded me of the impossibility. "Bella love, it couldn't have happened. Not that early."

I fought the rising tide of hurt and frustration that churned inside me at his words. He wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. Still, it hadn't been impossible—that was the whole point! This fantasy had been specifically calibrated around Edward's limitations, and it seemed as though he was misunderstanding that.

"No, it's not…. It's not sex."

His brows pulled together. "What?"

"The fantasy is not sex, at least, not the way you mean."

He still didn't get it.

Oh God, I could feel my nervous stomach tremble. "You were really clear—no sex for us. But I was so…. I wanted…. There had to be a way we could explore without crossing the line, without it becoming unsafe, right?" My shoulders jerked upward. "So my fantasies were mostly about us touching each other, or touching ourselves in front of each other."

I reminded myself that there was nothing shameful about my fantasies and the ways they had contorted around his boundaries. But in his eyes I saw sadness and…pity.

My stomach drooped and suddenly, for the first time, I understood.

He stroked my cheek, concern in his voice. "What is it?"

"I was a fool, wasn't I? I thought I was playing by the rules with those fantasies, and I kept waiting for our physical relationship to progress that way, but I was too shy to ask for what I wanted and you never made a move. And that's because it didn't matter, right? It was never about a specific checklist of things we could and couldn't do. It was like with hunting—you letting go of your control at all around me was the dangerous part."

He didn't deny it.

My eyes dropped to my knees, the wind utterly knocked from my lungs. Thank God I couldn't cry anymore.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Bella. Nothing you wanted was wrong."

Straightening my spine, I tried to meet his eyes, tried to smile. I failed at both. My gaze drifted to the lovely silk of Edward's blue bow tie. "Wrong and naive are different things. It was silly, anyway."

His response was swift. "Oh, no you don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't you downplay it now. I am giving you your fantasy."

A little lightness sparked inside me. He was so determined to cheer me up, make me feel better. "You still don't even know what it is."

He shrugged like the details didn't matter, lifting the tie. "I assume it involves some dress up?"

Edward could be so wonderful. He really did love me, so much. I had to stop getting so wrapped up in my fear of our sexual incompatibility that I lost sight of his dedication to my comfort and happiness. I felt my head move in a nodding motion.

"Then we should get dressed," Edward announced as though our evening was settled.

And I…let go, trusting in him.

—

Game Night

Giddy with the hopeful kind of nerves, I scrambled to make myself presentable—some measure of a facsimile to the way I had looked that night. I should have known from the outset that the endeavor was futile without Alice. The dress still fit at least. It was tight in some places it didn't use to be, like around my breasts and at my stomach, and loose in others. The off-the-shoulder straps wouldn't stay in place around the sides of my bony upper arms at all. Fallout, I guessed, from the havoc wreaked on my body by my bizarre pregnancy, made permanent by my transformation. But the dress still fit, so I'd take the win.

Attempting to curl and style my hair was where things went off the rails, and my curses of frustration summoned Edward. With gentle hands and a soft smile, he fixed my hair but was kind enough to pretend that it was a joint effort.

The way he helped me with my shoes was less kind.

He kissed my thighs and nuzzled my knees while he tied the ribbons in place. His nose pushed the hem of my dress up past the boundaries of decency. I felt his tongue brush wetly against my skin with every kiss. His eyelashes, his cheekbones and lips grazed their way up and up. But he stopped short, leaving my skirts hiked, but my pussy hot, needy, and tragically untouched.

"So, what game are we playing tonight?" he asked huskily.

I could feel his breath on the silk gusset of my underwear and shivered accordingly, unable to respond. I certainly squeaked, though, when he scooped my body up without warning and carried me into the parlor where music was playing. There he extracted the arm under my knees and let my legs dangle freely. I realized he was positioning his feet beneath mine and cooperated. He danced us around the room like that, a teasing glint in his eye.

I was good and worked up—he'd done this on purpose, and now he was dragging it out.

"You're the devil, Edward Cullen." I sighed, pulling him closer, pressing my breasts to his chest to relieve some of the pressure in my tight nipples.

"I'm just trying to keep us on task."

Such bullshit.

"Besides, this is prom, right? I carried you everywhere because you didn't have your crutches. We danced, like this, your feet on top of mine. What comes next?"

Was that a genuine question? You take me outside and tease me with the promise of turning me, taking me, right then and there, kissing my neck—pressing your sharp, cold teeth into the skin right over my carotid artery until my heart bursts and my panties melt off completely. You jerk.

The stinging ache in my pussy pulsed at the memory.

My grip on him tightened and I pressed my body intently against his. My hips rolled of their own free will, finding his huge cock hard. So hard. I smothered a moan. It felt so good to move against him like this. I gave myself up to it, letting the music guide me.

We weren't dancing anymore even by the most generous of definitions—we were just moving against each other. Seeking contact, friction. Dry humping. I felt him fist a handful of my dress at my tailbone and use it as leverage to hold me in place for his thrusts. I was on the precipice of an orgasm.

"Bella…?" he puffed.

I couldn't decide whether he sounded more panicked or confused.

"What? This is part of it." My voice was strained and throaty. Two could play the game of teasing and then playing dumb. "How could it not be? Our bodies were so close—you looked so good. How could I not want this? Tell me you did, too."

My fingernails dug into the skin of his neck and I licked his ear.

With a grunt, he slammed his dick into me. Fuck…. A climax was hurtling closer, rising out of the diffuse wash of full-body pleasure in my blood into a sharp, shivering point.

But then, he released his handful of dress and gripped my hips on either side. He pushed me back and leaned away, breaking contact.

"Bella, if you don't stop that, I am going to cum in my pants."

So, we were in the same boat then?

"That's okay."

"But is it your fantasy?"

That made me stop to consider. I didn't want to—I wanted to come. I was almost there. Besides, dry sex on the dance floor or dry sex in the back of a car—wasn't it all the same? But I reluctantly admitted that no, it wasn't. I wanted my fantasy.

So I came clean. "No. None of that was, really. I was just worked up. Here in private is fine, but I would never want to do something like that in front of other people."

"You made it up?" he demanded.

"You kissed my thighs!"

He laughed.

At first, I tensed. But then I released a breath, because I could tell he was laughing at the situation, not at me and my sexual neediness like I had feared. Giddy with relief, I laughed, too.

"Okay," he prompted, "what is it then?"

"My fantasy?" I clarified.

Edward nodded. "Moment of truth."

Anticipation rose in my chest and I smiled. "Let's go for a drive."

"Where are we headed?"

I leaned close. "Where would you drive if you were going to steal my virtue in the back seat of your car?"

As I had hoped, he was immediately on board. Car sex thrilled Edward, I knew. We locked up and crossed the wet grass to the garage.

I appreciated that he reached for the Volvo keys without making a bid for one of our flashier cars I knew he preferred as a sexy setting. It showed that he understood what I wanted out of this. I gazed dreamily at him as he joined me in the car, suddenly wanting him to know everything.

So, I showed him.

My hand found his over the gearshift and I focused as he made to back us out of the garage. Sharing thoughts came easier than it usually did. I felt them rushing out of me like a torrent. The conceit of this fantasy: prom had him at a fever pitch, and he was going to break his own rules because he wanted me too much. He was going to drive me someplace secluded, move us to the back seat, and there he would touch me between my legs, encourage me to hump against him until I climaxed, and then jerk himself off looking at me. Onto me.

"Jesus, Bella!" Edward snatched his hand away, gasping. I could see a wet spot of precum had soaked through the front of his tuxedo pants. The outline of his fully erect cock made my nipples ache.

Exhilaration made me giggle.

"That was…."

I stood my ground. "Well, if all of it was impossible anyway, I want the naughtiest version. The one even I knew was out of the question at the time."

God, his eyes were hungry.

"So, now that you know…you want to?"

His response was a growl. "I want to."

With that, he threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the garage. The tires squealed at a pitch that made me wince and I braced one hand against the glove box to keep from sliding into the car door.

I shot an exasperated look Edward's way, but he ignored me.

But then he did what he always did—the thing that drove me nuts above all: he switched from rushing forward to dragging things out.

He drove nowhere through the rainy forest roads, past a dozen suitable spots. For twenty minutes. Like there was no rush and his wife's panties weren't a flooded mess.

I was twisted up with anticipation, but all he offered was a lame excuse.

"Your dad is the chief of police. This is exactly what I would have done then, and what I am doing now. The last thing anyone needs is for one of his deputies to catch us."

I called bullshit. "You'd hear them approach."

"Not with you wriggling on my lap, I wouldn't."

I didn't buy it for a second. Despite his justifications, he finally pulled off the muddy road onto a grassy shoulder. The branches of a droopy willow dragged across the windshield. Raindrops clung to the leaves and glittered with moonlight. Feeling breathless in the deep shadows, I watched Edward's face as he killed the engine and dropped his keys into the cup holder.

Ready? I asked with hopeful eyes.

He nodded and relief filled my lungs with a shaky breath.

I began the script.

"Why are we stopping here, Edward?" My voice sounded halting and stiff in the tiny world of the Volvo.

"Why do you think?" His words flooded me with needy warmth.

"I thought we couldn't?"

"We shouldn't, but I can't help myself. I want you."

I experienced the psychosomatic sensation of my chest swelling, my cheeks warming. I wasn't just pretending to be human in that moment, I actually felt it. He was making me feel it. It was everything I had imagined—being seduced. Watching his lips form those words.

"Is that all right?" he asked devilishly. Edward was so good at this, at pretending, I forgot for a moment that's what we were doing. My beloved prim-and-proper man was a convincing rake.

Words were beyond my power at the moment. I could only nod.

With fluid, hunter-like motions, he exited his side of the car and appeared at mine. He lifted me into his arms. I was a damsel, rescued and soon-to-be ravished, and he was my knight. I kissed the sweet-smelling skin of his neck and jaw. Fat raindrops hit the overly sensitized skin of my naked shoulders and cleavage, and then the water rolled down into my dress as Edward maneuvered us into the back seat with me perched on his lap.

Before I could settle, his hand was up my skirt, pushing the swaths of gauzy fabric out of the way. My breath hitched in dazed anticipation. Edward had never outright groped me before, but apparently all I had to do was ask.

His touch traveled up my calf, over my knee, but progress was interrupted by my closed thighs.

I heard a noise of displeasure against my ear. "Open."

With a keening, eager squeak, I obeyed.

His large, strong hand cupped my pussy and pressed the slick silk into my flesh. We both cried out.

"You're wet," he accused. His voice had a savage edge, his erection throbbed under my thighs, and I was utterly at his mercy.

I confessed freely. "Yes. I want you. So much."

He obliged me, practically ripping my underwear down my legs and off. I clung to his shoulders as his firm hands arranged me, up onto my knees, then straddling him, my skirts hiked, pussy spread open and exposed to his eyes.

He stared, just for a moment.

Then his vice-like grip pulled me toward him and down, until my shaky thighs slipped wider, and my weeping pussy pressed against the front of his wool pants. I could feel the zipper digging into my clit, my lips parted over his substantial girth.

"Show me," he ordered.

I whined, hips wriggling wantonly. I closed my eyes and let go of the moment—pretending to myself that I really was human and this was prom night. I imagined that his hands were cold and I was fragile. The size of his cock was overwhelming and ominous as always, and I let myself feel the thrill of unease. He was too big for my tiny, inexperienced hole. He would tear me apart. But I owed him my life and loved him with all of my being; I wanted him to do it anyway. I had already given him my heart and my blood. Didn't the rest of me follow as a given?

He removed his hands from my hips and locked them at his sides. That helped the conceit that all this was real. If I were human, Edward wouldn't dare have his hands on me right now.

Biting my lip, I squirmed and rocked, basking in the shape and feel of him. I was soaking the material of his fly through with my needy arousal, and it made the friction more delicious.

"Edward," I breathed. "My Edward."

I strained against him, nails digging into the shoulders of his jacket.

"You feel…. Oh God, the way you feel…."

My clitoris dragged the length of his erection, up and down. I thought of the glass dildo, tearing me open—of his cock opening me up while the waters of Brazil swirled around our naked bodies. And I thought of the same cock, cold and harder than stone, under the layers of his clothing now. I thought of him allowing me, the horny human girl who loved him, with her tempting blood and broken leg, to squirm in his lap against that cock, chasing an orgasm.

"Edward, my nipples are aching," I begged. "I need your hands on me."

Immediately, he was pushing the fabric of my dress out of the way, baring my skin further for his eyes, his touch. I kissed him as he stroked and pinched my nipples and my whole body began to vibrate.

He broke his lips from mine. "Come for me, Bella."

The flash-flood of ecstasy was already upon me when he spoke. I screamed, squeezing his hips with my thighs and mashing my clit into the head of his cock to prolong and milk the climax. My body jerked and spasmed with pleasure. I was just an unassuming human girl having her first, perfect, boyfriend-induced orgasm.

It was everything I dreamed and more. The high of it left me panting and euphoric. "God, that was good!"

Exulting, I leaned back to see his face. I wanted to kiss him in celebration.

But what I saw both stopped me and filled me with warm joy. Head to toe, he was taut. His clenched jaw was a grimace of restraint. He needed to come. Badly.

Eagerly, I ran my finger up the length of the wet fabric on the front of his pants. "Your turn," I urged.

His hand shoved mine away and I gasped when he literally tore his zipper open. He groaned darkly when his naked erection met the open air. He immediately began jerking his cock, his fist a near blur. And, my dearest wish, he was looking at me while he did it. Specifically, his eyes were locked on my flushed, bee-stung cunt, dripping with the juices of my own arousal and orgasm.

Yes, yes…oh, yes…. My hips strained forward as if magnetized, closer to him. To the tip weeping precum.

"On me." I hadn't meant to say it out loud.

He grunted. Then he was pulsing white jets of cum onto my skin, my dress. My clit throbbed with sharp spikes of pleasure as it became drenched, and I moaned at the sensation.

When the bursts finally ceased, Edward collapsed backward in exhaustion. His Adam's apple bobbed at me as the top of the seat cradled his neck.

I fell on him like a giddy puppy, peppering his skin with kisses, caressing his face. "Thank you. Edward, you're a saint."

He sputtered and a laugh rang out. "I don't think anything we just did qualifies as remotely saint-like."

But it wasn't a joke. I was completely serious. I was so touched, so filled with appreciation and affection that he had done this for me. It meant more than he could ever know. "I just mean that, you're so good to me."

He sobered. After a moment, he lifted my wrist to his lips. "Well, I love you," he said simply.

I don't recall ever having been so completely happy.

Unfortunately, it didn't last. It couldn't.

The turn came when I innocently suggested, "We should do some of yours, too."

It was an honest offer, freely given. I could deny him nothing, and I wished for nothing more than to be able to do for him what he had just done for me.

But Edward was puzzled, as though the idea had truly never occurred to him. "Mine?"

"Your fantasies," I clarified.

"Maybe," he said with a grin.

In the moment, I didn't stop to question his response, but it and the expression on his face as he said it began to haunt me over the next few days. That look didn't say maybe, it said not a chance in hell. He was holding himself aloof, placing his own sexual needs out of bounds.

Of course. I shouldn't have been shocked. With Edward and sex, it was always one step forward and three steps back.