Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 8

Pushing the door open, I take in the sight before me. The room is lit with several candles, and the fireplace is blazing, casting a warm glow over every surface in the otherwise dim room. The curtains around the bed are all drawn open, and the mattress is covered in many pillows and comfortable looking blankets. The bedding and curtains are a golden color, with stripes of blue woven throughout. It is cheerful, though it does not at all calm the nerves raging inside me. For a brief moment, I wonder if I was conceived in this room, this bed, as it was my mother's so many years ago.

I take a step inside before tuning to close the door. Inhaling deeply, I turn back and walk toward the center of the room. Three men are standing to the side in the shadows. A part of me does not wish to know who is witnessing this act other than the bishop and Sir Whitlock, but I cannot stop myself from looking. I am surprised to see that Jacob is the third witness in the room. The bishop and Edward's cousin both have their gazes fixed on the rugs beneath their feet. Jacob, however, watches me intently. I immediately look down, refusing to meet his stare. I do not know what is expected of me, so I choose to stand in the center of the bedchamber. I will wait for my husband.

I am still staring at the floor when I sense Edward approach me from behind. He wraps his arms around me and places a kiss on my barely exposed shoulder. "You look so lovely in the firelight."

My embarrassment steals my voice and threatens to take over, so I take another deep breath and remain silent.

"Will you allow me to lead you to the bed?" His voice is low, meant only for my ears.

Still unable to speak, I nod. He takes my hand and guides me toward the steps leading up to the high mattress.

When we reach it, he leans closer to whisper into my ear. "May I remove your robe?"

I hesitate, only for a moment, but it is enough for him to offer reassurances. "They cannot see you, Isabella. Even if you were not hidden by my body, we are far enough from their prying eyes."

I nod my acquiescence, and he reaches down to untie my belt, letting my robe fall open. His hands slowly move to grasp the edges of the fabric, just above my breasts, pulling it from my shoulders and down my arms. Gently clasping my shoulder, he turns me to face him.

He holds my jaw carefully and lightly brushes my cheek with his thumb. "You are so beautiful, Isabella. Truly stunning. I am a very fortunate man. I want you to only look at me, do you understand?" His words are but a quiet murmur.

"Yes." I tremble, both with nervousness and anticipation, and my hands fidget of their own accord. He stills my twisting fingers with his warm touch so as to calm me and get my attention.

"I am going to assist you in climbing into the bed. I will close all but one of the curtains before joining you, and then I will close the last one from inside."

I nod, thankful that he explains each step. I am putting my complete trust in this man, and he is showing me that it is not misplaced. He takes my hand and steadies me as I take the two steps leading up to the tall mattress. He reaches out to pull back the covers, allowing me to slip under them.

"Thank you." Raspy and broken, even I do not recognize my own voice.

He gives me a nod and a reassuring smile before he begins pulling the curtains closed one at a time. The bed grows darker as he blocks out much of the light in the room. As he reaches the last curtain, the one at the foot of the bed, he removes his robe. The faint light of the fireplace burning behind him plays off his torso, and the lines of muscle cast shadows in the hills and valleys on his chest and abdomen. A smattering of dark hair covers his chest, and another patch begins low on his belly, leading into his dark linen pants. I have never seen a man in so little clothing before, but I would wager that he is among the most beautiful of men.

Unfortunately, the others in the room decide to make their presence known. It is the bishop who speaks. "I apologize, My Lord, but you need to be in the bed before we can draw the final curtain." He at least has the decency to look contrite.

Edward huffs a breath, but nods. "Very well. Let it be known, though, I will not be rushed. I did not want this archaic ceremony to take place at all, so this will happen my way, at my pace and my discretion. Am I understood?" Although he is facing away from me, he must give the bishop an intimidating glare, for the man on the receiving end of his ire appears to pale.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Turning to me, Edward's expression softens, even though I can see he is still troubled. "Isabella, is there room in there for one more?" He is attempting to break the tension. And to his credit, he does get a smile from me as he steps up and climbs onto the bed. He looks almost predatory in his approach as he crawls toward me on his hands and knees, but though he may have the look of barely restrained desire, I know he will not hurt me. As he settles himself beneath the blankets, he reaches for me, and I willingly go into his open arms.

The bishop smiles apologetically before he draws the curtain closed, as if he has no more wish for his presence here than we do. What is more disturbing, though, is the last glimpse of Sir Jacob's cold, hard stare directed at me. I do not know what I have done to cause what appears to be his contempt, and it is ... unsettling.

As the curtains finally fall closed, Edward begins stroking my head. My pulse is racing as rapidly as hummingbird wings, and it does not escape his notice. "I can feel your heart beating, Isabella." He's speaking in hushed whispers now, trying to give us a modicum of privacy. "There is nothing to fear. I will do all I can to make this easy for you. The first time may be a bit painful, but it will get better over time."

I look up into his eyes, and as mine adjust to the light of the fire filtering through the curtains, I can see the honesty in his gaze. "I trust you, husband."

"Those words mean so very much to me." He breathes deeply as his eyes travel over my body. "May I see you? May I remove your shift?"

I nod. With his left arm bent and laying on the bed above my head, his fingers toy with the hair that has come loose from my braid. The fingers of his right begin tracing a path over my cheekbone and down my nose, eliciting smiles from us both. His touch then passes over my lips and down my throat and sternum, until he finds the laces of my sleeping gown. When he tugs on the end of one, it slowly unties. And as they fall loose and more of my skin is uncovered, he continues gently kissing my neck and shoulders. Soon the cool air comes in contact with my bared flesh.

"Beautiful," he whispers, mostly to himself. He kisses down my neck, the scruff of his beard brushing against my skin as his fingers trace a scorching path to my exposed breast. He circles the hard peak with his thumb, causing my breath to hitch. "How does that feel, Isabella?"

The sensation is nothing short of heavenly. So much so that I cannot speak, and only whimpers bubble forth from my throat. He replaces his thumb with his tongue, circling it unhurriedly, and a quiet, breathy moan passes my lips. When he takes my nipple fully into his mouth, my hands fly to his head, grasping his hair. He releases me suddenly, leaving me exposed, my chest heaving.

"I am going to remove your shift now," he says huskily. He works it off of my arms and down past my hips. Once I am completely free, he sits back on his heels and gazes at me. I begin to feel self-conscious, and I move my hands to cover myself.

"No, Isabella." He shakes his head, gently moving my arms to my sides. "Do not hide yourself. Songs are written about beauty such as yours. So please, do not ever hide yourself from me."

He reaches for the drawstring of his pants to untie them, and I look away, unsure if I want to see him. I felt something before, his manhood perhaps, hard against my thigh as he was kissing me. If that is indeed what it was, I am sure the sight of it would only add to my anxiety.

"Are you afraid to look at me, my wife?" His tone is quiet, although I am thankful the curtains are heavy, so as to muffle our voices.

"No, My Lord, I am just nervous. I have never—" I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. "I have never laid eyes on a man's body before," I whisper. "I am a bit ... overwhelmed." The sounds of rustling fabric fill the quiet space, and soon the warm, firm flesh of his body slides up against mine.

"If you will not look, perhaps you would like to touch?"

My eyes open and I turn my head to meet his hungry gaze, shock clear on my face.

"Well, it is only fair. I get to look upon you, to touch you. Should you not have the privilege of discovering my body as well?"

Tentatively, I place my hands against his chest. My palms glide over the warmth of his skin, and my fingertips dance over the scars he wears. The raised skin healed over old wounds reminds me of the warrior he has been and still is. I lift my eyes to his in question, but he says nothing. My gaze falls back to where my fingers lay, and his muscles flex under my touch as I continue my exploration. His arms are solid, strong, the ropes of muscle stretching as my hands move over him. The heat of his back warms my palms as they glide against it, and I consider the weight he must carry, both literally and figuratively. Wielding a sword in battle, learning the ways of ruling a kingdom; it all must weigh heavily upon him. This is the back of a powerful man. My hands trail lower, and I find the curve of his backside, firm and strong under my touch. The distance he has traveled on horseback over the years must be the cause.

I finally find the courage to bring my hands to his waist and then around to his front. My fingers meet the trail of hair I saw in the firelight, and it is surprisingly soft. My gaze moves from his chest back to his eyes, and I find encouragement in them. I dare not look down as my hand reaches its destination. As it does, he lets out a groan, and I instantly release him.

"I am sorry, My Lord," I whisper, my voice raspy.

"No, it is fine, Isabella. That was a sound of pleasure, not of pain."

I study him, dubious of the truthfulness of his words. "You are sure?"

His hand cups my cheek as he nods. "Quite sure, and I am disappointed you stopped." A grin teases his lips. "Please continue."

I slowly return my hands to his midsection and lower as I take a deep breath, my hand brushing along the length of him. I am a bit surprised at the size of it. It is hard, but it is also surprisingly smooth. I strengthen my resolve and grasp it gently. It feels like the softest silk wrapped around the hardest iron. The look on his face tells me he is enjoying this. His eyes are closed, and his breathing has sped up. I begin to move my hand, stroking and exploring this part of him. His reactions urge me on, and I grip more tightly and move my hand more quickly. Suddenly, his eyes fly open.

"Isabella, as wonderful as that feels, you must stop." His words are strained, his breathing heavy.

I release him as if he were on fire. "I am sorry, My Lord. If you would show me how to—" I am cut off by a forceful kiss. His tongue delves deeply into my mouth, and I can feel the passion in his movements. When he pulls away, we are both breathless.

"Believe me, you do not need any lessons. If you continue, this will be over before we begin."

His words puzzle me. He must see the confusion on my face.

"If you had not stopped, I would have spilled my seed all over your belly instead of when I am joined with you." He delicately moves my hand from him and pulls me closer still, practically covering my entire body with his. "I want to be inside you when that happens."

His directness is surprising but welcome.

"Oh," is all I can say before his mouth is once again on my skin.

His beard rasps against my skin as he kisses me, his lips hot against my neck, my breasts, my sensitive nipples. The scratch of his beard combined with the softness of his lips is maddening. My hands once again find his back, and I hold tightly to him as he continues to touch me everywhere, his mouth never leaving my flesh. His touch is gentle as it glides up along the side of my ribs, to the underside of my breasts, cupping them in his large hands before moving back to my ribs. His thumbs trail down the center of my belly as his hands ghost over my waist and hips. His warm palms move over my thighs to the inside, pushing them apart.

He settles his midsection between my legs, yet keeps his weight off me. As his kisses grow in intensity, his hand finds its way to my center. He is tender, careful, as he strokes me. I feel a slick wetness where his fingers caress my most delicate place. His exploration moves between my hidden folds, touching and circling. He spreads me apart, finding a small button which nearly sends me shooting off the bed with his touch.

I cannot contain the moan that escapes me. Keeping his thumb there, he slides a finger lower, to my entrance—circling, dipping, circling again—until finally, he slides it inside of me.

Eyes closed, I tense slightly, uncertain what to expect.

"Are you well?"

I nod, my breaths heavy.

"Isabella, please open your eyes. Let me see your eyes, you beautiful girl."

I open them, and the sight of him above me, surrounding me, is almost overwhelming. For the first time in my life I feel wanted, safe. He chooses that moment, as he's staring into my eyes, to slowly push another finger inside me. It is unfamiliar and more uncomfortable than painful. He gently works them deeper—in then out, in then out—and the sting all but disappears as my hips begin moving on their own.

"Yes, Isabella. Do you feel your body reacting to me?" His whispered words in my ear cause a shiver down my spine. His thumb is circling that button, his fingers moving in and out. There is a tingling feeling low in my belly, which I do not recognize. As he continues to move, continues to kiss me—my neck, my shoulder, my breasts—the feeling intensifies. I am suddenly frightened of the intense sensations and close my eyes tightly.

"Edward?" I hope he can hear the panic in my voice. My breathing has intensified, my chest rising and falling rapidly. My heart feels like it will beat out of the cage of my ribs.

"It is all right, my wife. This is what you are supposed to feel. Just let the pleasure wash over you. I have you. I will not let you fly away." He continues in his mission, whatever it is.

Mouth, tongue, lips, hands, fingers, in, out, circling, plunging.

Suddenly, I feel as if I am falling, flying, exploding, all at once. I cannot contain the scream that comes from deep inside me. I think I am chanting his name, though I am not sure, because I have lost my ability to hear. My fingernails have found purchase in his shoulders, and God himself could not remove them from my husband. He continues to glide his fingers in and out of me, decreasing his pace, eventually stopping all together. He removes his hand from me and rests it on my belly.

As I feel my soul return to my body, I begin to relax, my breaths slowing and the thudding of my heart calming. First my grip on his shoulders loosens, then my legs, which had been bent and wrapped around him, fall to the bed. I feel completely at ease. I am aware of Edward kissing my neck, his hands having returned to my hips before traveling down to my knees to once again bringing them up to his sides. He has moved up on me, and I can feel him, hard against my warmed flesh. Having shifted his weight, he now rests on his left arm, leaving his right hand to trace lines over and around my breast and nipple.

He pulls his mouth away from my skin for a moment to speak. "You are so perfect for me, Isabella. That was a beautiful thing to witness. Thank you for giving me your body." With that, he grabs hold of his manhood and guides himself to my entrance. He pushes his way inside of me, little by little, in and out, as he did with his fingers, then in a bit more. It is a strange sensation—at first a stretching, then a slight burning.

As he gets deeper, he pauses and looks me in the eye when he speaks. "You are mine, my wife." He then thrusts into me, completing our union. I cry out, the pain sharp, but not intolerable. Thankfully, he stills.

"Are you well?" His voice is raspy, not the strong and confident tone I am used to hearing from him. I know he is making a great effort to cause me as little pain as possible.

I reach up and grasp his face, my fingers working through the soft hairs of his beard as I search his earnest, green eyes. "I am well, my husband. Please make me yours." At that, he begins to cautiously move in and out of me.

As I allow my body to relax, and the pain begins to subside, I tentatively rock my hips against him. This encourages him to pick up his pace, and his movements gradually become more powerful, yet somehow still measured. His hands move to my backside, and as he angles my hips, bringing them higher, I once again grasp at his shoulders. With this new angle, I begin to feel pleasure. Instinct takes over, and I wrap both of my legs around him. Soon my bottom is lifted completely off the mattress, and the touch of his hand once again reaches that spot, just above where we are joined. He seems to finally rid himself of his hesitance and begins to thrust deeply into me.

"Oh, Isabella. I never knew it could be like this." His words are panted against my throat with his hot breath. He has my bottom in one hand, and his thumb working furiously to bring me more pleasure with the other. With his face buried in my neck, and mine in his, we are wrapped completely around each other. As he moves, I feel that same tingling begin. Before it can crash over me, he stills and breathes a grunt of satisfaction against my skin.

"So, so good, Isa ... bella." He pulses inside of me, the warmth of his life-giving seed shooting into my womb. My grip on him is strong, and I cling to him like a limpet. The feelings coursing through my body are many; I feel surrounded, safe, protected ... cherished. I say a silent prayer that we are blessed with a child, a child who would guarantee so much for both our kingdoms.

He is breathing heavily, and I am still holding on to him as he cradles me in his strong embrace. His hands have moved behind me, and he rests on his forearms, keeping his weight off of me. As his breathing slows, he raises his head, looking into my eyes. His are a sparkling green, even in the near darkness.

"My beautiful wife, there are no words." He kisses me deeply as I realize we are still joined. When he pulls away, he removes himself from my body. I wince as he withdraws, but when he does, I feel empty, incomplete. He holds me closer still, encasing me in his arms, chest to chest, with my head under his chin. His heart beats loudly beneath my ear as he places a kiss to the top of my head.

"Have I pleased you, my husband?" My voice is quiet, unsure.

"You have more than pleased me, Isabella. That was more than I ever imagined it could be. Thank you for sharing yourself with me so freely." He searches my eyes for a moment before tilting up my chin to meet his kiss.

Any fears I may have had when I first laid eyes on him have all been put to rest. He is not the savage warrior many feared him to be. No, his touch is tender and careful, and I realize how fortunate I am to have become his wife.

A/N: This was technically the first lemon I ever wrote, so I feel like going to hide under a rock! Lol. It was reworked just a bit, but yeah, it was hanging out in my docs for a few years. I'd love to hear what you thought of it!

If you're in my Sunshine Fics group on Facebook, this week's chapter pic includes the bed mentioned in this chapter. Stop by and take a peek!

And now time for some recs! To go with this week's theme, I'm rec'ing a contest from a few years back—The Cherry Exchange. You should be able to find it in an author search on FFN. Nearly all of the entries were about 'the first time.' The entries are no longer listed on the contest page, but you will find the links. Two of these stuck out to me and are on my favorites list.

Bereit by GothicTemptress is not for the faint-hearted, but it is beautifully written and will likely bring a tear to your eye.

Summary: Faced with adversity, horror, pain, loss, love and hope, humanity bears the challenge of survival and the pursuit of happiness. Will Edek Cullenski and Izabela Swanda be ready for this journey? Based on my family's true story of surviving the Holocaust in war ravaged Poland and Germany during WW2.

Forever and Ever by theladyingrey42 is a sweet high school fic that I fell in love with.

Summary: Edward has been Bella's best friend since kindergarten, and so far he's made good on his promise to always do everything with her. But now that they're older, she finds herself wanting more. Can "forever" as just friends be enough?

I know first hand how difficult it is to make a complete story out of a one shot, and these two are great. I hope you'll check out these, as well as the other entries in the contest!

And speaking of contests, there are two going on now you should check out. the Inked Contest is open for submissions now through 9/22. Love Tattward and Inkella? You'll find them here. And the BotheredContest opens for entries on 8/15. It promises to be stories that include all the cliches, irritating words, and outrageousness you can shake a stick at. ;) Should be a lot of fun.

And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon!

Lots of love

~Sunshine