For Katalina
Phase Three – Complete Incapacitation
His hands felt like silk on her skin. His lips grazed her neck, setting her pulse to race.
It hadn't taken them long once they were behind the closed doors of his penthouse to be on each other, and yet the ripping and snarling of clothes and teeth that she'd expected after so much built-up tension hadn't come. It seemed as though Edward wanted to take his time with her, worshipping her, rather than taking advantage of the pent up frustrations.
"You're so beautiful," he told her, and his tone made it sound like he meant the words in reverance. His slight Italian accent tilting his voice more into that of a than he had any right to be. His lips trailed down her neck and onto her shoulder. His hands ran up her forearms in the barest of caresses.
"Edward," she whispered both in plea and in contentment. Her nerves were calmed, not a hint of her previous anxiety present now. She felt safe with him, right in his arms. He wouldn't hurt her or find her lacking. He just wanted to be with her.
Her.
Isabella Swan.
The same woman who'd been rejected and neglected by Mike Newton for all of those years. Made to feel like she wasn't good enough to hold his attention. Made to feel that she was attractive enough. Made to feel that she wasn't worth the effort of seduction.
Now, she felt wanted.
Now, she felt sexy and powerful.
It was a heady feeling to know that a man such as Edward Volturi – dripping with power, influence, and pure male prowess – found her appealing, for he far outweighed Michael Newton in every measure.
"Tell me, mi amour . . ." Edward breathed in her ear. "Tell me where to touch your beautiful body."
She moaned.
"Everywhere . . ."
"That's a given, my bella." His voice was thick with need and sex. "But where to start?"
Her cardigan hung loosely around her elbows, having fallen off her shoulders long ago. With the movement of his lips upon the revealed skin, the thin straps of her camisole were falling as well. Edward made short work of the extra clothing, pulling the sweater completely off of her, his fingertips trailing behind the fabric in a silken kiss. The barest touch had her skin coming alive with the heat of it, the whispered promise of it.
She let her head fall back as he cupped her shoulders, bringing his mouth down to trail along her exposed neck. Her hair fell in a thick curtain down her back, and the heavy weight of it tickling along her spine heightened her senses all the more. Bella felt so incredible, so feminine, so sexually driven, that all of her insecurities – her feelings of inadequacy – were silenced.
This man had made her feel. This man had made her forget the pain of her previous rejection.
This man had turned her into a woman desperate for more . . .