Author's Note: Am I an unpredictable author with no self-control whatsoever? Yes. Do I bring a gigantic chapter filled with smut to buy my forgiveness? Absolutely. Am I sorry? Nope. No, I'm not.

I have pretty much given up on the whole disclaimer thing. Trust me when I said I own nothing the hundreds other times I've said it.


"David! If you don't turn your feet when you kick, you'll end up on the floor again," Paul warned, going behind his student and correcting his footing with a gentle push.

"Ugh, thanks, man. It was so much easier with the punches," the 6'4'' ft overgrown baby complained, adjusting his posture.

Paul wanted to roll his eyes in response but refrained — barely — in an honest-to-god attempt at being the professional he pried himself in being. Usually, he was pretty good at managing his class, but fuck if his students didn't try his patience once in a while. That day, for some reason, he was feeling particularly unsettled — like he was forgetting something important.

"This isn't boxing, David," Paul reminded. "If you don't use your legs, you're going down on the ring later."

"David's going down anyway, don't bother. Boy can't take a single punch without crying out for mom," Jonathan mocked from his place inside the ring, where he was warming up with Blake.

"Hey! I—"

"If you have time to be watching David's training, I suppose you're ready for me up there?" Paul asked, giving Jonathan a pointed look.

Blake sniggered, lowering the pad in his hands. "Sure, he's—

"Nah, man. I'm still on the hooks," Jonathan grumbled, cutting Blake off with a glare.

Paul would not roll his eyes. He would not. "Okay, great. I'll just let you get back to it, then?"

Before he could go back to helping David, the cell phone in his pocket began to ring. It was unusual for someone to call him when he was working, so it was either bad news or pack business.

"Shit. I need to take this call," He said, fishing the damn thing. "Keep working on this, alright? I'll be right back."

When David just nodded in agreement, Paul turned to leave the mat, accepting the phone-call from Jacob.

"I'm working, this better be fucking important," was his greeting.

"My dad is not feeling very good, I need to drive him to the hospital," Jacob explained, his voice rushed. "Bella's car is in my garage — I promised I would check it out for her. I was going to pick her up at school, but I won't make it. You have to go. She can't be there alone."

The imprint made such a mess in his head. Even the mention of Bella's name was enough to send his pulse up, as he pictured her face. He wanted nothing more than to see her at every available change, no matter the fucking reason. At the same time, his rational mind reminded him of the shit show that went down the last time he had been near her.

"Shit, Jake. Is Bill okay?" He asked, instead, trying to buy himself some time.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I'm sure is nothing serious. I'm just worried about Bells."

"What time does she leave school? Can't one of the boys go pick her up?" He asked, like the fucking coward he was.

"Are you kidding me? She's your imprint, you were the first one I called. She leaves at four, Paul. Don't be an idiot," Jake's annoyed voice cracked through the line.

Great, now he was the shitty imprint who couldn't help his own mate. Great. "Yeah, whatever. I'll pick her up."

"Good," Jake breathed out, although it sounded like he was still pissed at Paul. "You can bring her to my house if you want. I shouldn't be long at the hospital."

"I'll ask her what she wants to do," Paul said. What was the term for pussy-whipped when one wasn't even getting any?

Jake didn't seem surprised that Paul would be playing the personal slave for the day. "Sure, great. I have to hurry. Call me if something comes up." And he hung up, without another word.

Paul rubbed his face in frustration. Fuck. Bella would not be happy to see him.


Paul stood leaning against his bike, trying not to get overwhelmed by the smells and noises coming from the dozens upon dozens of disgusting teenagers who were quickly trailing out of the school, screaming instead of talking to each other. There were no signs of Bella anywhere, and he couldn't hear her voice coming from inside the building, but the sharp tug of the bond allowed him to know that his mate was close by — he only needed to wait. Which was easier said than done, because the moment people took notice of him — a stranger — in the middle of their ordinary parking lot, the overpowering mixture of curiosity and arousal hit his nose, and Paul had to give himself a mental pep-talk in order to remain where he was.

God, he had clearly forgotten how hormonal teens could be when in such large groups.

When Bella finally walked past the doors, nearly tripping on absolutely nothing, Paul was unsure whether to be relieved or apprehensive. He hadn't seen Bella in a week — or rather, she hadn't seen him in a week — and considering how things went the last time they had been together, he didn't know how to feel about it. The answer became pretty clear, though, when she raised her eyes from the ground and swept the space, probably looking for Jacob, and, instead, spotted him waiting for her. It was almost funny — the face she made. Almost.

If her heart hadn't begun to pound inside her chest; if she hadn't blushed a gorgeous shade of red, which he could almost feel the heat of from afar; if her face hadn't morphed into a furious scowl; then, maybe, Paul would've laughed. As it was, his own heart began to beat a little faster in response as she strode to where he was, a purpose in her stride. The mere proximity was more than enough to get him going.

Paul realized he was doing a rather poor job at concealing his appreciation as his eyes skimmed over the soft curves of her body. It was ridiculous — the girl was wearing jeans and a sweater, and yet Paul could hardly control his stare as it clung to her figure like a virgin seeing a naked woman for the first time. It was quite pathetic, to be honest.

His presence clearly did nothing for her, though, because she wasted no time with pleasantries. "Where's Jake?" She demanded.

Definitely mad at him, then.

"Billy needed to go to the hospital," Paul explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What? Is he alright?" Bella asked, instantly side-tracked.

"Jake said he should be fine — nothing serious. He couldn't come to pick you up, though, so he called me."

Which was the wrong thing to say, clearly, because his mate's expression soured. "Well, you needn't have worried, Paul. I'm sure I could get a ride by myself, Thanks."

Paul held back a wince. He tried to fix it by saying: "I'm sure you could. I'm here, so it's pointless, however. Let's go."

Fuck.

As soon as the words crossed his lips, Paul wanted to take 'em back and shove them back inside his big, fat mouth. No way would she let that pass.

"I'm not a doll you can move around," she gritted out, looking one second away from stomping her feet like a child. "Maybe I don't want to go with you."

The problem was that Paul could hear the parallel talk happening around them, and the things people had to say about Bella and about him. It was a lot. Apparently, Bella talking to someone — anyone— was a huge novelty worthy of a whole lot of speculation. That the person she was talking to was him, in particular, seemed to intrigue the minds of Forks High School that much more. And it all rubbed him the wrong way: people speaking poorly of his mate, him being in an exposed place without his pack, his mate being angry at him.

Worst of all was a tiny wisp of a blond boy who seemed two seconds away of coming to rescue poor Bella of the big, bad wolf. God, Paul almost wished the boy had the guts to actually go near him and try to wrangle Bella out of his hold. A good fight never failed to lighten his mood.

The adrenaline was pumping inside his veins, and Paul was losing the hold of his temper with alarming speed. Which was, maybe, why he nearly growled out the words. "Not here. Let's go."

His mate wasn't prepared to acquiesce so easily, however. "I wanna go home," Bella said, looking at Paul like she was already mentally preparing for the argument to come.

It was, perhaps, the first time she had asked him for something like that — no explanation, no good reasonings, just her honest desire to do whatever — and obviously it would be that. Of course she wanted to risk her safety by staying more time in Forks instead of the Rez, where the entire pack would be. Paul should say no, should drag her to the Rez no matter how attractive her defiant expression was, but he already knew he wouldn't. If Jake had been the one to pick her, Bella would have had no chances of convincing him; however, lucky for her, Paul was the one with the power to decide, and, honestly, it was no decision at all.

Before he even had time to process all that fully, the word was already slipping pass his lips. "Okay," he somehow said, moving to pass the helmet over to her. Just like that, he agreed to risk his life protecting hers in case of an attack.

His acceptance did the trick to snap her out of her funk. Bella was clearly shocked that she had gotten her way. "But I—wait—you... agreed?"

"Yes, I did. Thanks for noticing." Paul couldn't help but mock a little. Her puzzled expression was far too much fun not to.

Bella crossed her arms, not moving to accept the helmet he had in his hands. "Can I drive?" She asked in response, pressing again. Bella wanted to push until he either exploded right there and then, on the parking lot of her fucking school, or gave up and left her stranded and alone. It was absurd.

The problem was that she was under a serious misconception. If she thought Paul was ashamed of being with his mate in any possible way, then she was a fool. For him, it would be nothing short of amazing to sit back with his arms around her as she drove his bike. "Sure," he responded, extending his hand and dropping the key on her waiting palm.

It was obvious that Bella wasn't used to people giving her what she wanted, because the more Paul accepted her requests without a word of complaint, the more he seemed to astonish the hell out of her. "Are you kidding me?" Bella demanded, her jaw a little dropped.

"What? No way. You wanna drive me around, be my guest."

She gripped the key, the anger coming back to her face. "Good," she said, taking the helmet from his hands and pushing in over her head. "Let's go."


Somehow, inexplicably, Paul found himself in the middle of Bella's kitchen having a heart-to-heart. If one were to ask him how that happened, he wouldn't have been able to answer. It all went far too fast — one second he was wrapped all over her in the bike, watching carefully as she gripped the handle as though it would slip away at any moment, the scent of nervousness and adrenaline clinging to her, and the next thing he noticed, he was entering the house and Bella was pacing back and forth around the space until he snapped and asked what had her in a snit.

She immediately stopped her moves to glare at him, all fire and anger in her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, fists closed.

Well, at least that was an easy one. "Protecting you."

"I don't need your protection, Paul. I was doing fine without you for the past week, wasn't I?"

Bella was flushed with rage, and for some reason that stole all of his attention. His eyes traced the color going from her cheeks and down her neck until it disappeared underneath the collar of her sweater. It was a temptation of the highest order, and Paul could hardly be blamed for the mumble coming out of his mouth in response. "I don't know, were you?"

"You are impossible!" She groaned, raising her hands like she was done with his shit.

"You are angry," Paul pointed out, trying to gather his wits back. "Why are you angry? I haven't left, Bella."

"Is that so? Weird, it doesn't look like it." She said, pursing her lips. "God, I opened up to you — I trusted you! You just disappeared. How am I supposed to understand that?"

And she was right, of course. Paul ran from her like an idiot who was more afraid of getting hurt than he was of hurting his mate. "I was still in the Rez," was his lame excuse. With him as a wolf, Bella had had zero chances of finding him.

"You said you would be there for me," she reminded, losing some of her anger and showing a whole lot of vulnerability instead. And that ruined him. The wolf inside him howled in displeasure at seeing its mate feeling sad for something he did. It burned something fierce.

And, at that, Paul saw himself doing what he did for no one else — he lowered his walls and went for a good dose of honesty.

"Look, Bella, I'm— I wasn't trying to— What I mean is: I've been around — I haven't left. Okay, maybe it was a dick move to not go after you on the Rez, but I haven't disappeared. I'm the one patrolling your house every night — always. You may not have seen me, but I'm around," Paul explained, tripping over the words like a pubescent teenager in front of his crush. It was ridiculous. Yet, the words kept leaving his mouth, one after the other, in a rush of reassurance as he tried to convince his mate he hadn't abandoned her — couldn't even if he wanted to. "I apologize for hurting you, it wasn't my intention. Never. I won't ever not be around."

And wasn't that the sickest true?

She took one step closer, tilting her head in consideration. "What? Every night? Why not take turns with the boys?"

"I'm the best fighter of the pack, and vampires work best at night, for obvious reasons, so you're more vulnerable during that time. It makes sense that I be the one on the lookout. We're not taking chances with your safety, Bella. I'm not."

"I went to Emily's house looking for you. Do you know how stupid I felt?" Bella asked, looking away.

Paul frowned at the information. He hadn't known that — why didn't Emily call him? "It's not stupid, not even a little bit. I—I was scared. I am scared. A lot of what you said scared me, and I don't know how to handle that."

"Why? Cause I'm a fuck up?"

How could he tell her that it wasn't that? That Paul wasn't judging her, that he couldn't. But that he felt something so intense and so overwhelming for her that even the idea of her getting hurt triggered so many goddamn emotions inside him that he didn't know how to deal with? It was insanity — Paul had joined the wagon of the nutjobs the moment Bella looked him in the eyes.

"Cause I care. I care more than I should about your safety, and hearing how much you don't seem to give a shit about it freaks me out, alright?" He explained, defeated. "What do you want from me, Bella? I'm just a man."

She seemed stunned by that, as though that possibility hadn't even crossed her mind. "I— That's not it. I care — I do. I...God, I don't wanna die," she finally said, with a tense expression. "I don't wanna die." It looked like she had only just reached that conclusion right at that moment, as she spoke the words, though.

"What do you want?" Paul would give her whatever the fuck she needed if only she promised to stop endangering her life.

"I want to have a reason to live. Reasons that are for me, you know? I've been living for others for so long... for my mom, for Charlie, for E-E-Edward... I want to find things that motivate me to live for myself. I deserve to enjoy things on my own and have passions and desires that have nothing to do with no one else but myself. Only I have no idea what that is or could be."

Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and Paul couldn't help but step closer to her. Bella's pain was his Achilles heel. "You have all the time you want now. Whatever you want, you can do it."

"I'm so lost," she finally admitted, looking up at him with a tilt of neck.

"Being lost is a part of growing up, Bella. You just have to figure out what you want to do to with yourself. No one said it would be easy, and no one said you couldn't make mistakes along the way. Stop being so hard on yourself," Paul almost whispered to her. He couldn't control himself enough to stop his arms from circling her waist. "I've already told you: you wanna scream, you wanna cry, you wanna be angry and pissed, you wanna be selfish — do it."

Bella buried her head in his shoulder, and her scent invaded his senses — sadness, determination, fear, longing. Paul tightened his hold on her, wanting nothing more than to protect her from whatever was going through her head. It was maddening, she seemed so tiny in his arm — precious and fragile.

"Can we stay like this for a little while?" She asked, already tensing up for a denial.

That wouldn't do — not at all. "Bella, we can stay for as long as you need."

And when Paul lowered his head to the top of her's, he secretly hoped she would choose to stay for a lot longer than a little while.


After twenty minutes, a few silent tears left unmentioned on his shirt, some moments of uncertainty where Paul wasn't sure if he should relocate them to a more comfortable place, and series of changes on Bella's emotions, she had finally, in a shy whisper, informed that she needed a shower and left the room.

Paul released her from his hold, feeling both sorry for having to let her go and emotionally drained from the whole thing. The minute she disappeared up the stairs, Paul dropped his body on a chair with a heavy sigh. Christ, every minute with Bella was an emotional roller-coaster.

He tried to organize his mind as she went about her shower, focusing on the sound of running water. Paul could have a mental breakdown at home — Bella needed him to be stable for her, especially after he pulled a disappearing act for a whole week. He had no delusions that he was forgiven after the moment they had — Bella would want more than that, he just knew.

Suddenly, the sound of the water stopped, and he could hear her walking into her room. It was sudden — one second she seemed fine, and in the next, he could hear a dull sound followed by a yelp of pain.

Paul didn't even decide to get up, his body just moved as he went up the stairs. "Bella!" He called, desperate.

"Wait, Paul!" Bella tried to scream back, but Paul's wolf side was calling the shots there, and he wouldn't be soothed until he saw his mate was fine.

He heard her moving fast for a few seconds, before he pushed the door open, eyes scanning the room for threats that weren't there. There was only Bella, in front of her closet, towel splashed on the floor, wet hair tangled falling on her back, and, worst of all, a big shirt covering her body, which she was still smoothing the edge off when he burst inside. She clearly threw the first thing she saw in front of her on when she heard him going up the stairs, but that smell…

Paul sniffed the air, his nostrils going wide. "Is that… Jacob's?"

She blushed, giving a tiny step back. "Yes."

Bella's fresh, wet scent was mingling with Jacob's earthy one, and Paul's wolf was not okay with that. Not in the slightest.

"You should take that off," Paul heard himself saying, going inside the room;

"What? Paul, wait…" Bella began, holding her hands up in a clear sign for him to wait.

"It smells like him," he added, disgusted, like it explained anything.

"Yeah, well, it is his, so… I can't take it off; I'm naked underneath it."

Did she think that was discouraging information?

"I hope so," Paul said, crowding her space until she was pressed against his chest in a position not unlike the one they had stayed in for long minutes downstairs. Unlike before, though, the air cracked with statics as Paul's wolf pressed in the front of his mind and Bella flushed so prettily.

She angled her head to meet his eyes. "Paul?"

Paul wanted to answer — he did. But his eyes landed on her mouth as it moved, and there was a slightly purple spot in her bottom lip where she has been worrying it that drew all of his attention. Paul wanted to trace it with his tongue, wanted to taste her more than he ever wanted something in his life.

Bella whimpered — a tiny, almost soundless noise that is he hadn't been a wolf he would've never heard. And that was it; he was kissing her. Paul was finally kissing Bella, and it felt nothing short of incredible. Her chapped, wet lips slowly moving against his, her hands around his middle while Paul forced his hand to stay put on her waist. It was their first kiss, he refused to fuck it up.

The urge was there, however, to just push her into the wall behind her and grab her hair to force her head back while he bit into her neck. The need was there, but Paul wouldn't wield to it.

Too soon he felt Bella stepping back with a groan of dissatisfaction.

"Not you too," she said, raising her head to look him in the eyes and plead her case. "Don't do this, please."

Paul was surprised. This was not the reaction he had expected to get after their first kiss. It was the first time a girl complained about his kiss since his first little girlfriend at school who had called him sloppy.

"Do what? What's wrong?"

"This," she repeated, probably thinking she was explaining something. "I don't need you to hold back with me."

Okay, that was unfair. There he was, being careful and thoughtful with her, trying to give her the romantic kiss she deserved, and that's what he got? Bullshit.

"I was just tryin' to be—"

"Well, don't," Bella interrupted, raising her hand. "This is not my first kiss, Paul. I had that with a boy back at Phoenix, who shoved his tongue down my throat. It happened already, you can't make it better."

Paul felt a growl erupt from within the second Bella mentioned someone else's tongue down her throat when he still had his hands on her waist. If she was going for a sudden humor shift, she was doing a terrific job at it.

She responded with a small smile, though, which only served to confound him even further. Was the point to make him jealous?

"I'm not fragile; I ain't. I can take whatever it is that you wanna give to me. So don't, okay? Don't hold back. I already had one boyfriend who treated me like a damn doll, I need not another."

The second she mentioned the leech, Paul was done. His mind didn't even process the whole boyfriend business. He understood what she wanted — or what she thought she wanted — but perhaps bringing up the bloodsucker hadn't been her smartest choice.

He pounced.

One second they stood somewhat separated while she spoke, the next second Paul delved his right hand in her hair while the other held her by the waist as he pushed his body forward and shoved her against her bedroom wall. His entire body was pressed up flush against her, and his head was angled so he could hear her surprised yelp clearly and still whisper in her ear:

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes," she hissed, dragging down the word as he shoved his leg in the middle of hers, dropping her weight in it. In that position, his thigh was perfectly pressed up against her core.

This time, when Paul kissed her, he held nothing back. It that's what she wanted, he could provide.

It was brutal. A fight for dominance where Bella refused to wield no matter what. Her nails were trying to cut his skin at his shoulders while she pressed herself closer to him, almost as if she could melt against him.

Paul might have moaned her name when she rocked on his leg, and he got to feel how wet she was. Her scent was enough to drive a man to insanity. It was unfair — Paul had been doomed from the start. When he felt her beginning to gasp for air, Paul released her mouth for a second to see her. And she was a vision. Bella looked like the most erotic sight Paul could've ever imagined.

Flat against the wall, her skin was flushed from her collarbones to her forehead. She was biting her bottom lip — which was an enormous distraction — and her hair was messed up and tangled. However, the best part was her hooded eyes. Bella's eyes shined brightly with desire, and it almost took his own breath away.

"I want you so damn bad," he said, her hair balled up in his fist. He already knew what he wanted, and as he grabbed her in his arms to place her on the bed, the anticipation was already coursing through his veins.

Paul wasn't known for his self-control. In fact, he was pretty much labeled as the hothead of the pack — the first one to snap and the first one to act before considering the consequences. And while he kept surprising both himself and everyone else with how smoothly he had been handling the imprint, despite all understandable bumps along the road, it had been a matter of time before he fucked up. Knowing that, Paul could have gone for much worse than going down on his mate. Really, one could argue he was almost being thoughtful.

The shirt had to go. Bella should never wear clothes from another man who wasn't him — especially not from another wolf. And it was with that thought that Paul realized he had fooled himself. He would never be okay with Bella being with Jacob, he could never stand back and watch as they went about their lives together, knowing she belonged with him. Bella was supposed to be his, and no else's.

"Take that off," Paul growled, wanting nothing more than to do so himself, but still cautious with her at the same time.

"What?" Bella asked, confused. She leaned closer, her mouth landing on his jaw when he turned a little sideways.

"This shirt. Take it off," Paul insisted, tugging it. "It smells wrong."

Bella considered it for a minute, her heart rate going up. "You take it off," she dared. It was clear that that was her attempt at being alluring, as though Paul needed convincing, seducing. It was endearing, although unnecessary.

"As you wish," Paul agreed, happy to remove the offending item from her body. In a flash, he was grabbing the hem and dragging it up her body and over her head, until it was out. As soon as he had it in his hands, Paul threw it in the bin at the corner.

He didn't have to look to know he got it right.

"Paul," Bella reprehended, even as amusement swam in her eyes.

Paul couldn't hold back the grin. "Seriously, don't pick that up. His scent on you is an unforgivable offense."

He expected her to laugh or protest, but, instead, Bella looked uncomfortable, staring down at her naked body. Redness began to cover her face, and she started to wiggle under him.

"Hey," he called, lowering his body to cover her's, supporting his weight on his left forearm to leave his right hand free to go for her chin and tug it up. "Don't do this, Bella."

"I...I just—I'm not—," she stuttered, eyes averted.

Having an idea about what her problem was, Paul grinded against her leg, letting her feel his erection through his jeans. "You're a very attractive woman, don't hide. I'd like to—," he began, peppering kisses on her neck. "— kiss, and lick —," he gave a tiny lick on her ear shell. "— maybe bite —," he added, biting her on the crook of her neck. Just a light tug. "—all over you."

She gasped. "I haven't… you know."

And, yeah, Paul did know. He knew because Jacob had thought of Bella in a thousand different ways before he imprinted; but, more than that, he knew because Bella reeked of nervousness, even as it mingled with the sweet, sweet perfume that was her arousal. It was also a big enough deal to warrant a moment of seriousness, even if his dick was painfully hard inside his jeans, pressing against the zipper in the most uncomfortable way.

So he pushed himself up enough to give him room to breathe a hint of air that wasn't saturated by her intoxication scent. "I know," he finally said, trying to be as gentle as possible. It was a delicate matter, and, again, Paul wasn't known for his patience. "Would you like to stop?"

It physically pained him to imagine stopping before he got a taste, but Bella had to know she was safe with him no matter the situation.

"No!" she half screamed, gripping his back as though he had threatened to leave and was seconds away from vanishing, "That wasn't what I meant; I just don't know what—"

"Bella," Paul called out, stopping her when she rushed to get the words out. "I'm not going anywhere. Relax."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I don't want to stop, but I also don't know if I want to lose my virginity right now."

"Okay," Paul agreed. It hadn't been his plan to go for penetrative sex for their first time right before her father came home anyway. "That's not a problem, Bella. We can do whatever you want and nothing else. For the moment, I'd really like to down on you — is that good?"

"Uhum," she agreed readily, nodding her head in enthusiasm. "I'm sorry about the… virginity talk. Was that a total mood breaker?"

God, she actually sounded worried about that. Bella was so innocent it ached. "Bella, be reasonable. I have you naked under me — I'm barely controlling myself enough to have this conversation."

"Oh. Alright. Good, that's good."

Paul had had enough, though. He wanted her, and he wanted now. So, with another nod from Bella, he began to make his way down, kissing her neck. However, he could hardly prevent himself from getting distracted along the way. Bella — his mate — was entirely naked for him, and for the first time. Paul was having trouble with holding back the wolf instincts in him.

He wanted to nuzzle her neck and mark her as his; he wanted to pur in satisfaction whenever Bella let out sounds of need; he wanted to take off his clothes and rub himself all over her until their scents were so mixed together every other wolf would know she was his, and his alone. Paul understood it was Bella's first time having a sexual experience with somebody else, though, and the last thing he wanted was to frighten her by acting like an out-of-control animal. He wasn't a virginal boy, and he wasn't a pup. He could act like a controlled person for a while as he focused on making Bella orgasm so hard she begged for mercy.

If only she would quit smelling so damn enticing, then Paul might have a chance at succeeding.

He palmed her breast, and she arched her back. Fuck, he was going to lose it. "Shit, Bella," he groaned, not managing to hold back from pinching her pink nipple. God, it was a rush to see her back leaving the bed under his ministrations.

"Ugh, do that again," she panted, eyes blown wide. "Harder."

"Harder, hun?" He couldn't help but tease, even as he complied straight away, rolling her nipple once, twice, before pinching it a tad harder.

Finally, Paul was in his element. Talking, being reasonable about sentiments, being emotionally available, well, those were all things he was rather pathetic at and ran from as often as he was allowed; sex, though? Sex was right up Paul's alley. Much like fighting, there was just something about the movements, the sweaty bodies rocking against each other as they both tried to reach their goals, that drove him wild. His adrenaline kicked in, sharpening his senses and focusing his sight at once.

It would be no dismissable self-praise to say that he knew what he was doing. Paul had delved, had tried, had tasted, and he knew exactly how to move and how to get what he needed in bed. Realizing that Bella was pliant and willing, waiting for him to do with her as he pleased, sent a sharp shiver down his spine as he marveled at the numerous possibilities ahead of him. Bella's body was his personal sundae, and Paul was about to dive right in with no spoons or napkins.

She was trashing and whining, her head dropped on the pillow. It was the hottest sight Paul had ever encountered in his life, and he wanted to secure the picture she made in his mind down to the smallest details. The way her hand gripped her own hair, tugging it harshly as though she was trying to ground herself; the way her eyes fluttered open, like she wanted to see what was happening, only to instantly close as another wave of pleasure went through her; the way she panted and gasped for air in desperation; the way her boobs wiggled around every time she moved.

All of it. Paul wanted all of it.

Paul dragged his teeth across Bella's stomach, delighted by the way she shivered and keened. He went further down until he was positioned in the middle of her legs, grabbing the back of the thigh to push the leg up enough to get a good view.

Fuck.

He breathed in. As close as he was, the smell was so intense it nearly blocked anything else out, filling his lungs with only the unique fragrance that was Bella Swan. Tired of denying himself, Paul gave a first, experimental lick, from top to bottom. Bella tilted her hip up, pressing closer to his face.

"Ugh," she moaned. "More."

More? Shit, yes.

Paul licked her clit, sweeping past it and then around it.

It was insane. Paul had had sex with countless women, performed the same acts hundreds of times in several different ways and positions. And while he had always loved oral sex — whether that meant receiving or giving it — tasting Bella was a whole other ballgame. His mouth was closed on top of her clit as his tongue traced the letters of his name on it, just because he could.

It was a heady experience, and he never wanted it to end. Bella wouldn't stay still, though, so he placed one hand over her stomach and forced her down, opening his eyes to meet hers. She was so flushed and dazed, her hair all messed up, looking like she had been tangling her fingers into it.

He wanted his fingers inside her so damn badly. And while the last thing he wanted was to get his mouth away from her skin, even if it was for a moment only, he kind of had to ask first. So he caressed her entrance with both of his fingers, giving her a clue as he spoke. "Is this okay?" He asked, feeling the liquids running down his chin.

Bella forced her eyes open. "Yeah, please," she gasped, already closing her eyes again as Paul immediately began pushing his fingers inside her, rocking them back and forth.

As soon as he sucked lightly on her clit again, Bella jerked upwards hard enough to dislodge his hand from where had been hovering on her middle.

In response, what Paul did? Sucked even harder, his fingers moving in and out of her in a steady rhythm. He wanted so badly for Bella to come all over his fingers, and yet, wished to prolong the moment for as long as he dared, reluctant to part from the place where he was — perfectly stationed in between his mate's legs, her curls of pubic hair dragging across his nose each time he moved his head.

She was so goddamn tight. It was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to have her wrapped around his dick, and Paul didn't even try to prevent the images from popping into his mind. He let out a strangled moaned against her clit. Fuck, he was so hard he could hammer a nail with his dick, and it probably wouldn't take a second.

And yet…

In a moment of insecurity, Paul demanded: "Look at me." He needed to see her eyes, needed to know she was thinking of him and nobody else. He could take a lot, but if she was using him to think of the bloodsucker in that way, that would wreck him.

He watched as she forced her eyes with a gasp — her chocolate eyes hazy with pleasure, pupil's blow so wide it threatened to swallow the amazing maroon shade. But, best of all, as she looked down to meet his stare, there was only raw desire reflected there. Desire for him.

"Paul," she whimpered, trashing her body when he held her gaze and failed to return to his task.

Paul got greedy. He wanted her holding nothing back — needed her to lose control with him.

"That's it, baby," he growled, breathing into her clit. "Just like that."

Bella's legs were trembling in his hands. She was close, he could tell. From the way her walls squeezed his fingers so damn tightly it was almost criminal, or from the way her heart raced, it was obvious to him that she only needed a good push to drive her over the edge, and Paul was more than happy to provide.

He released her stomach, allowing her hips to rock almost brutally up into his mouth. His fingers curled up in a claw shape inside her, Paul traced her clit over and over again.

"Paul, I— God, I—," Bella whimpered, wrecked.

He moaned in response. Yeah, he wanted her to come for him.

It all happened in an instant. Paul released another moan for her just as he slipped another finger inside her, and Bella fell apart underneath his touch. Her walls began to pump just as Bella arched her back so far up it almost pushed her head of the bed, a groan of relief slipping past her lips louder than any of the previous ones. Her scent peaked, and Paul didn't even try to resist — he drew his fingers back and lowered his head to lap at her folds, pushing his tongue as far inside as he could.

All of Bella was addictive, mindnumbing.

"Shit, shit," Bella cursed in a chant, and Paul couldn't help but feel smug about being the one to leave her in that state.

It was in that unfortunate setting, however, that the noise from Charlie's car echoed in the distance, and Paul knew their time was up.