Author's Notes:
In which we find out more about Bella's unusual reaction and things get steamy.
The characters and Twilight universe are Stephenie Meyer's. I'm just having fun...

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Bella was one of the first to emerge, immediately looking towards his car then heading across the parking lot, barely stumbling at all. Edward thought she seemed relieved to see him, but who knew? His mouth was dry. He had to talk to her properly this time; this tongue-tied crap had to stop. At least she wasn't with Jessica or that jerk Mike Newton.

"I need to explain." She was shifting from foot to foot, hugging her bag. He saw that she was anxious, a flush coloring her throat and cheeks. It was enormously attractive.

"I'm sorry I reacted like that Bella. It was just a little…unexpected. I got taken by surprise." Should he say he'd liked it? Perhaps that was a bit forward. But he was finding it hard to figure out which social niceties applied in this sort of situation.

She looked down, embarrassed. "I can imagine," she said softly. "Being leapt on in Biology by someone you barely know."

"Someone I'd like to get to know," he said, equally softly.

"Can we talk?" She looked up at him. "Come to my place. Ch…my Dad won't be home for a while yet. You can follow me in your car."

Yes! Edward tried to seem a man of the world, as though he went home with girls every day of the week. "OK, I'll see you there."

Once at the house she led him through into the kitchen.

"Do you want a drink - a soda maybe?"

"No, I'm OK thanks."

She bit her lower lip, considering. "Lets go upstairs to my room, I'll feel easier talking about it there."

Bella kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the end of the bed. Edward took the armchair in a nearby corner.

"So you read the card?" Like all artists, he was hoping for a good review.

"Yes - that was the thing - I mean, the poem." She flushed again, thinking about it.

It hadn't been that suggestive had it? Not compared to the other versions that he'd had to censor.

Bella swallowed. "This is kind of embarrassing. And weird."

"I can do weird - try me." He was curious now.

"Well, I love poetry and literature a lot, mostly the classics."

Excellent, they had a lot in common already. A fellow aesthete.

"I always did have a…strongly positive…reaction to certain poems, but nothing like I had today Edward, honestly, I was as much taken by surprise as you were. It's always been to poems that I could identify with, but of course they were never about me. Yours was the first poem anyone ever wrote for me and about me, and I think that was the difference."

"So you did like it?" Still keen for a review, and not quite sure what she was on about.

"Like it…it was a lot more than that. I hadn't had a chance to get some quiet time to read it until just before Biology, and when I did I got really turned on. Incredibly turned on. Then you came in, and the room was dark and I was so…aroused, and you reached for my hand. And…and I just couldn't stop myself."

No need to admit he was trying to steal the card back from her.

"So the poem turned you on?" He was secretly delighted but tried to sound alert and sympathetic, kind of like a counsellor. "Do all poems do that?" Edward considered the idea of poetry as a sex aid. Interesting. He began to think which ones might work best - something modern and explicit, or the Romantics?

"No, other people's poems don't have that sort of intense effect. But your poem, because it was about me…and because you wrote it…" She looked down and blushed. "Well, all I can say is that I wasn't in control of myself at all for a while there."

Did that mean she liked him? He was suddenly happy.

"Maybe it was just a one-off thing - the circumstances, the dark room, something like that?"
We could give it another try. Oh please, lets give it another try…

"Maybe. I guess. Shall I read it again and see?"

Fuck yes.

"Well I do think we should test it out Bella - in the interests of science you know." Smiling wryly to show her he was making an urbane joke. Inspiration struck. "But why don't I read it to you instead? It is a Valentine's Day card after all." Trying to be just a little seductive, looking at her from under his lashes. This was excellent, it was all going far better than he'd ever imagined.

"Well, OK." She rummaged in her bag and handed him the card, then sat herself back down at the end of the bed again, facing him.

"Right, here goes. Poetry Reaction Test no.1. Just tell me if you're having a weird response, and I'll stop - OK?" He smiled reassuringly at her then looked down at the card and started to read, trying to inject the appropriate amount of heartfelt passion into it as he declaimed.

"Oh Bella, mistress of my heart
Your chocolate eyes, your auburn hair
Are in my thoughts from dawn to dark.
I feel so much I do not dare
Approach you lest I fall apart
Or tell you quite how much I care."

As before, Edward got quite caught up in the reading, congratulating himself again on his way with words. There was no doubt: he was a creative genius. He remembered to look up and check on Bella's reaction. Jesus, his poetry really did turn her on. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were dark. She was flushed, breathing quickly and squirming interestingly, almost as if she were…fucking the bedspread. God, he was getting hot himself, just watching her.

"Um…are you OK Bella? Should I stop?"

Her voice was rough, a little ragged. "Don't stop…Edward…don't stop…please…more…"

Wow, this was amazing. He felt his cock stiffen. He licked his lips and she put her head back and gasped. Shit. He glanced at the next two lines then said them from memory, drawing them out a bit, watching her to see what happened.

"I long to say just how I feel
To make my passion for you real."

Bella moaned hoarsely. Oh Christ, she had started to touch her breasts and was squeezing them through her blouse, rubbing her fingers across her nipples and staring at him as though she were a tiger and he were a tasty chunk of meat. Her hips were making small thrusting movements as she kneeled on the bed. He had never seen anything so hot, never even imagined anything could be so hot. In a shaky voice he continued, having some difficulty forming the words.

"I long to hold you in my arms
To show you how your tender charms
Make my knees weak and my head spin
So please...."

He got no further. Bella was on him, knocking the card to the floor, kissing him furiously and forcing his lips apart. His mouth opened helplessly as her tongue invaded him. She was in his lap, between his knees, her hands frantic on his body. Pulling his shirt out of his jeans she ripped it apart, buttons pinging off left and right. She ran her hands across his chest, pinching his nipples - unnngh - then grappling with his jeans. Before he could stop her (and he was well past the point now where that thought could even be entertained) she had the zip down and his swollen cock was in her hands and in her mouth. Some kind of pressure valve blew out in the back of his skull and his hips arched forward, thrusting into her as she sucked him. Oh this was wrong, they shouldn't, it was too much, it was too good, he was melting, he was going to…to…oh…in her mouth, oh he was, oh!…oh Fuck!…Ohhh! He was making incoherent noises now, his hands fisting her hair as she sucked him, and then the pleasure exploded in his groin and he came into her mouth, crying out wildly.

He pulled her up and held her to him, panting, heart racing. But there was no respite. Bella was completely out of control now, rubbing herself against him, grabbing at him, kissing and sucking his neck, his nipples, licking his chest. He lifted her and fell with her onto the bed, undoing her jeans and pulling them off roughly with her wet panties as she writhed under his hands, clutching at him, moaning. He felt like a bomb defuser - he had to make her come immediately or Christ knew what would happen. He was afraid she would spontaneously combust, taking him and the whole fucking bedroom with her. Her father would arrive home to find the entire front of the house blown out, a smoking ruin. He could see the headlines now: "Terrorist Attack in Forks!"

Her hands were constantly reaching for his cock but he was still too sensitive. He restrained her on the bed and kept his terrified member out of her frantic grasp. He pulled her hips to the edge of the bed but in doing so had to let go of her arms and she was at him again, grabbing his head and pulling him down so that he collapsed onto her then kissing him so hard she bit his lip, making it bleed. He sobbed with pain and excitement, holding her body to the bed with his torso and pinning her wrists with his hands to the mattress on either side to keep her from attacking him again. He pushed back to kneel at the foot of the bed, wriggling himself in between her thighs. Bella seemed to realise what he was doing now and spread her legs wide, moaning hoarsely suck me Edward please suck me please Edward please and thrusting herself up at him.

And oh God her cunt, her cunt! She was so wet and hot, and she smelled incredible. He buried his face in her, groaning. Bella whimpered loudly and thrashed about, his hands still trapping her arms. He found her swollen clit and sucked it, then slid his tongue into her, then back to her clit in a frenzy of alternate tongueing and sucking, rubbing his face into her ecstatically. Fuck she tasted wonderful. She arched up then, screaming his name, and came convulsively, and he nuzzled her until the tremors ceased, still holding her to the bed, then pressed his face into her soft belly, gasping.

Finally it seemed safe to release her and they clung together, breathing rapidly. He was hard again but he felt shell-shocked by what had happened and he was beginning to remember that he had no condoms, and her father would be home soon, and her father was the fucking Police Chief, and…oh shit.

Although his brain had started functioning again it was all over the place, bouncing from thought to thought like a pinball machine. That was the best sex he had ever had. Of course it was the first actual sex that he'd had with anyone other than himself, so that was bound to make it special. But with Bella almost raping him, it had been incredible. But it was way too much. Things had gone so fast, completely out of control. He found himself worrying that she might not like him any more. Shit - who knew if she had liked him before? They didn't even know each other and they'd just had frenzied sex. Well, of course he was in love with her but that was different, and made it worse. Here was this girl he loved and wanted to worship and they'd gone at it like animals. Now what? The chaste chats and tentative first dates he'd been anticipating seemed to have been comprehensively blown out of the water.

He had to make this right somehow. He had to see her again, he couldn't bear it if she avoided him, ashamed of what they'd done. He stood and did up his jeans, wiping his face on his ruined shirt. He wouldn't be washing that shirt for quite a while. Then he sat on the side of the bed beside her and drew her into his lap and his arms, although it was so hard not to hold and stroke her mound with her body completely naked below the blue blouse. He pulled the bedspread up around her to reduce the temptation. Bella was looking dazed, clinging on to him.

"I'm so sorry Bella, I had no idea the poem would have that powerful an effect on you. I got completely carried away too." He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.

"It was much more intense with you reading it to me." Her voice was weak.

"I guess that makes sense." So a slight reaction to impersonal poetry, a moderate one if she read one of his poems about her to herself, and an intense one if he read a poem about her directly to her. It was almost like different doses of a drug, like his poetry was heroin to her. He shivered suddenly, imagining himself catching her unawares and whispering a line or two in her ear as he kissed her neck. Fuck he was rock hard again at the thought. No, no, it was tempting but so wrong, he must not, he was a monster even to think it.

He took a shaky breath. "Bella, we need to be careful with this. I really like you and I want to see you again and get to know you…um…properly. I think we need to steer clear of this …this poetry thing… until we work out how to handle it better." He was anxious - would she want to see him again?

Bella reached up and kissed him softly. "I like you too Edward…very much indeed. I think that's why the…why I get this reaction so strongly."

His heart swelled and he hugged her to him, kissing her as hard as his cut lip could stand. Boy that stung, he would have to put some cream on it. Were there worrying germs in…? Oh for fuck's sake shut up.

"Can I see you again then? Maybe tomorrow after school you could come over to my place?"

"I'd like that Edward. But we don't have to cool it completely do we? As long as we avoid the…p-word…we can still do this?" Kissing him again, and licking his wounded lip, sucking on it gently. It stung a little, but it felt wonderful. And saliva was good to clean things, animals were always licking themselves weren't they?

"Yes, we can still do this. I don't think I could stop myself from…doing this…with you. Just lets keep it within normal parameters a bit more." He kissed her hair again. "And I should go now, or else I'll run into your father and I don't think I could face him today...after…"

"Think he might arrest you?" She grinned up at him.

"Riddle me with bullets, more likely."

He extricated himself and she pulled her jeans back on, giving him a fine view of her bare ass in the process, as she bent over. Oh Jesus, that would keep him hard for days.

He tucked in his ruined shirt and hid it with his jacket. Bending, he retrieved the card from beside her armchair. "I think I'd better take this for now Bella - it's a bit risky leaving it here in case you get tempted."

She looked disappointed for a moment, but gave way and agreed.

They hugged at the door, Edward scanning anxiously around for Chief Swan, but the coast was clear.

"I'll see you at school. Remember - no Keats or Byron - stay pure for me." Grinning, kissing her nose.

"You're my bard now, Edward." She was smiling, her eyes soft.

He dragged himself away, her words singing in him as he drove home, barely seeing the road.

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Edward lay in bed trying to decide which memory to use for a last reprise of the day's tumultuous events before going to sleep. Her mouth on his cock? The taste of her cunt? Her naked ass bent over in front of him? He was spoilt for choice. So much material now for erotic poetry - no, he must not think like that.

He did want to continue writing verse though, having discovered his considerable talents in that direction. He would just have to keep the poems from her. A pity he could not show her poetry that was meant for her, but of course she was not a proper critic, with her special reaction to his work. She would probably come if he recited the worst doggerel imaginable, as long as he was staring into her eyes as he did so. She was not able to be objective about it. Which was a bit frustrating actually, as he was excited by his poetic ability now and he wanted her to admire him for his talent, not just as a...as a sex object. Hmmm, that was kind of a weird thought.

In retrospect, thinking about it all, Edward absolved himself of wrongdoing. Neither of them had been prepared for her reaction - how could they be? She was clearly…highly unusual in that respect. But it was like a disability he thought, feeling a little guilty again. Or an addiction, as though she'd been drunk and he'd taken advantage of her vulnerability. Although as she had essentially raped him, the moral issues were, to say the least, filled with complexity and confusion.

But tomorrow would be different, now that they had agreed to avoid the …poetry problem. Tomorrow they would have it under control.

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End Notes:
Yeah, right! Tune in for more next chapter...