Posted 2024-01-20; beta'd by Eeyorefan12
Even with the departing celebrants' chatter still faintly audible, the relative quiet was eerie for Bella. She'd spent the last several weeks in a busy household and the last few hours surrounded by its members as they loudly, and in some cases drunkenly, celebrated her and Edward's new status. Now, as the silence swelled, so did her nerves. Standing in the large bedroom of the mating house, she purposefully ignored the four-poster bed, looking up at the high windows instead. They let in the morning light but not a view of the outside. On either side of the sturdy bed sat simple wood stands with metal water jugs and cups. A blood-colored carpet made the pale walls even paler.
The room spoke of utilitarianism. There were no pictures, no ornaments. The only paint was a thick white-wash on the rough boards.
"Hi."
She jumped, clutching her robe closed as she turned around.
Edward stood at the doorway, similarly clad, looking a little sheepish. "I apologize. I thought you heard me come in."
She smiled and shook her head, hands still carefully holding the robe closed. It was the only piece of clothing she'd have . . . for now. A slightly tipsy and grinning Rose had explained that there was a ritual progression of clothing and food that would be left for them, and that only when a couple could dress and eat three consecutive times without damaging anything would their time in the mating house be done.
The comment had drawn a stern look from Esme, after which she'd assured Bella that traditions would be altered, as necessary, for Bella and Edward, given their unique circumstances.
Standing in the airy garment, Bella felt practically naked. Her loose hair only heightened the sensation. Glancing at Edward, a wave of heat swept up her cheeks. He was surely naked under his robe too.
"It's not the most subtle of messages, is it?" Edward lifted his chin towards Bella's apparel and cocked his head, grinning.
She chuckled and sighed, grateful for his humor. He was trying to make this easier for her. "No. Not really."
Edward stepped closer, holding out his hand for her to take. They'd held hands several times in the last day, most of them ritually. Now it was a choice, and she accepted it happily.
"There's a pleasant place to sit outside, if you'd like to join me?" he asked.
Eager to leave the bedroom and all that it suggested, Bella followed him to the front porch, where a metal jug and two small glasses of amber liquid sat on a small table.
After helping her sit, Edward paused, holding up a finger. "I forgot something. I'll be right back."
Watching him disappear back into the house, Bella looked around at the trees that bordered the house and the bell that hung from a porch post. Edward had pointed it out to her on their arrival. A smaller version of the one at the main house, it announced the arrival of guests or food deliveries but could also secure help or signal an emergency. Since Edward would likely not be staying with her the whole time, it was a way for her to contact the main house if she needed to.
She sighed and secured her robe once again, picking up one of the cups and sniffing it. Sikaru, she guessed, taking a sip—much sweeter than she remembered. Delicious. The familiar heat tickled her throat, and she took another, bigger sip, this progressing until the glass was empty; she was refilling it from the jug as Edward returned.
He paused, eyeing her refilling the cup as he set down a small tray with two jars and a bowl. "How much have you had?" he asked quietly.
"A glass. I'm sorry, I should have waited." No doubt, she'd interfered with yet another ritual.
Edward shook his head. "It's alright. I thought we might like a drink. I—it's just—how are you feeling?" His forehead featured three small wrinkles. She found it amusing that she felt it necessary to count them.
Maybe she shouldn't have downed the sikaru so quickly after all.
"Fine. Why?"
He gave a slow nod. "It's melisikaru—a little stronger than what you've had in the parlor after dinner."
"Don't worry, I can hold my liquor." She almost grinned, thinking of a few stories likely unsuitable for the occasion. Did Sabellians even have drinking games?
Doubtful, she decided.
"So, are you going to tell me what these are for?" she asked, pointing to the jars.
"I am." Edward sat down. "They are . . . optional, though."
That meant he was worried she'd be uncomfortable with them. "Okay."
"Traditionally, on their wedding night, the couple mix the Dentrogonisi oil and salts together"—he gestured to the small ceramic bowl between them—"and then massage one another."
Oh.
"There's a ritual to guide them," he added.
Of course there's a ritual. Given the many ceremonies of the days prior, she'd rather hoped to be done with rituals.
"Each of the pair may only touch what the other has invited them to—a hand, a foot, a forearm . . . and so on."
"I see." Bella kept her gaze squarely on the table, the heat in her face spreading. And so on indeed. There was an uncomfortable squiggle in her stomach. Was he proposing that they start this now? Right now?
"If you want to use them, you would ask your mate to bring them to the bedroom for you."
So not right now. There was a wave of relief, and then a ripple of nausea. Her vision wobbled, and then her gut clenched in a most unpleasant way.
"Ah," she said, swallowing. "Thank you. I—"
She managed to turn around before she vomited. Edward was at her side almost instantly, sweeping back her hair and bracing her with his arm.
Bella groaned at the painful twisting in her stomach, her throat burning. There was another round of vomiting, and then another. Sweat beaded on her forehead and back.
"Bathroom," she muttered, trying to walk in that direction.
Edward helped her there as well, where her body continued to purge itself. It felt like an hour had passed before she was done, emerging shaking and damp to find Edward waiting for her.
"I'm so sorry," she muttered. "That was not—"
"Not planned?" Edward held out a soft cloth and a fresh robe.
"Thank you." She took both, returning to the bathroom to clean herself and change.
Exhausted, she didn't argue or think anything of Edward helping her to the bedroom, where she collapsed onto the bed, mumbling another thank you as he pulled the blankets over her.
When she finally blinked awake, the light streaming in from the high windows was painfully bright. She had a pounding headache and her stomach still felt queasy.
"Good afternoon." Edward sat on top of the covers, leaning against the headboard, watching her.
"Afternoon," she croaked, clearing her throat, feeling acutely embarrassed. "I'm really sorry about . . . this morning. It's still today, isn't it?"
"It is," he said gently. "And, well, I'm sorry too—I really should have warned you about the melisikaru."
"Hardly. I doubt you expected me to gunnel it."
"Gunnel?"
Bella tried to sit up, putting a hand to her head as the thump of her pulse became painful.
"Here," Edward said, holding out a cup of water.
Keeping her eyes partially closed, Bella muttered her thanks and sipped at it.
"If you can, chew on this." Edward pressed something rough into her hand. "It'll help."
She eyed the bark-like material, then chewed on it cautiously, nervously waiting on her stomach's response. The queasiness eased, as did her headache. She felt surprisingly sleepy too.
When she woke again, the light was on the other side of the room and Edward was where she'd last seen him, except he was dusting crumbs off his chest.
Probably his breakfast.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Apparently, she was. She took the bun he offered her, sitting up and realizing that her robe had slipped open. Closing it, she leaned back against the pillows and nibbled tentatively at the bread. It was delicious, and she finished it quickly.
"Thank you," she said. "And um, sorry again. For yesterday."
He chuckled, putting his cool hand over hers. It felt nice after the uncomfortable warmth of the previous night. "I'm sorry you didn't feel well, but it was"—he frowned—"I don't want you to misunderstand me, but I was glad to have all the traditions . . . interrupted. I know our mating was unexpected for you, and even though you participated flawlessly, I couldn't help but think you'd want something more . . . human."
"And getting drunk and puking my guts out is your idea of a human wedding night?"
Edward laughed, clearly having understood her description. "No. Not at all. But certainly having time to get to know one another. To have the intimacy of friendship."
Friendship.
She gave an awkward smile. "Well, you definitely got one aspect of the friendship part right."
Edward cocked his head to the side.
"It's usually a girlfriend thing," Bella said, bunching her hair into a rough ponytail. "Holding their friends' hair out of the way when they vomit—it, yeah—never mind." She caught sight of the tight expression on his face and stopped moving.
Of course. Her hair.
Touching her loose, uncovered hair suggested . . . far more than the intimacy of a friend.
She cleared her throat, all too mindful of the bed they were both in. "I, um, need the bathroom."
There was no mirror in the small room, but if there had been, she would have spent most of her time looking at herself—steeling herself. As it was, she leaned on the sink counter, trying to wrestle her insecurity and nerves into order.
She'd coped in the last days by suppressing most thoughts that originated in either. But now, here they were, and she was very nearly out of time. Mate or die.
Still, she hesitated, sifting through her thoughts, trying to motivate herself to open the door.
They were married. Edward had offered this. She had accepted. She wanted to live.
She thought of the mating itself. It would be painful, at least at the end. Edward had carefully explained the process, how her body would react and the physical changes to expect. But before all that was the sexual act she was more familiar with, the one depicted in books and movies and giggled about with girlfriends. There was a quiver in her midsection that had nothing to do with nerves. He was handsome—very handsome. Attraction was not an issue. He was experienced, too, if she understood how things worked here, and it was more than likely Miss Sarris hadn't been the only one he'd . . . provided service to.
She shook off her musings on that score and focused on what was important here and now.
She didn't want her first time to be one that ended with pain and illness. As to Edward's willingness on that front, well, there was only one way to find out. Before she could change her mind, she yanked the door open and walked back to the bedroom.
Edward wasn't there.
Her insecurity did a tap dance on her stomach, but the anxiety was short-lived. She found him outside, sitting at the little table, staring into the distance. He stood when she approached, that gentle smile on his face, pulling out her chair.
Ever polite and kind.
There was a pot of tea set out, along with two plates of bread and sliced fruit.
They sat and ate together quietly. Bella smiled as a few brave birds hopped closer and closer, snatching at a few crumbs Edward threw to them before they flapped away.
When they finished their meal, Bella thought again of her request, carefully gathering her words. "I have something to ask you, and to be clear, it's something that you're welcome to say no to."
Edward nodded.
She took a deep breath. "I've . . . never been intimate with someone before. I appreciate that there are some differences between, uh, mating and . . . pleasure? Right?"
"Yes."
"I wondered if we could have . . . pleasure first." She shut her mouth again quickly, staring at her hands.
Edward reached across the tabletop, wrapping his fingers around hers. "You've made it sound like I wouldn't want that with you."
She dared to look at him.
Had she?
"I . . . wanted you to know I didn't presume you'd say yes."
"I understand. It's just that you seem to think you're not desirable. You've suggested as much several times. Why?"
She blinked a few times. "I'm no great beauty, Edward."
"And you think that's what the substance of attraction or desire is?"
Wasn't it? "For most men, yes."
"Not here. And certainly not for me. Your empathy, bravery, intelligence, and . . . determination—I see them in you. They're very attractive. As to the physical attributes that you seem to think are so important"— he dipped his head and boldly looked her up and down—"my sight is stronger than yours, and I see well enough what's in front of me."
At his perusal, she looked away, vainly attempting to hide her blush.
"I would very much like to seek pleasure with you, Bella."
"Okay." It came out as a croak. Before her courage could fail, she sucked in a breath and forced out the words: "Could you take in the oil and salt? To the bedroom?"
His nod was solemn, and for all his compliments, she couldn't help but doubt his answer a little. Was he just trying to make the best of it? Lying to make her feel better?
Oh how well her self-doubt was ingrained. Jasper's words swirled in her thoughts, and she shook her head. No. She'd take Edward at his word.
I've never lied to you, Bella. The memory smacked into her thoughts, his earnest expression as clear then as it was now.
She turned and walked to the bedroom, still nervously clutching the edges of her robe together, sitting down on the bench at the foot of the bed.
Edward pushed the door open, carrying the small tray of salt and oil pressed against his chest, making less of an effort to keep his robe closed as he did. She wondered if it was intentional or if he was just that much more comfortable with all this.
Probably both.
Regardless, she averted her eyes until he joined her on the bench, setting the tray between them under the thick, wooden plank that straddled the footposts. He poured oil into the small bowl and then sprinkled in a pinch of salt. "I wait on your invitation," he said formally.
So she had to take the lead.
"Um, how do I . . .?"
She was relieved to see the fond smile return with a soft shrug. "In whatever way you wish."
Despite her determination, there was still a flutter of nerves. She took a deep breath. "Will you touch my hands?"
Dipping his fingers into the bowl, he reached out and painted the backs of her hands, pulling them towards him as he coated them in a light covering of the oil. There was a pleasant tingle with it. His movements were smooth and strong, and he quickly loosened the tension in her hands.
Then he held out his hands for her to do the same.
A little more at ease, she began to work over his fingers and then his palms. While she'd touched Esme and Rose and even Edward a little, she hadn't ever had a need to massage their skin. The thickness of it surprised her, and she had to use considerable force to feel the muscles and tendons below.
When she glanced at Edward, there was a small wrinkle in his forehead.
"What?" she asked, tensing. "Am I doing something wrong?"
"No," he said quickly. "You're just working very hard. Your body is still very . . . delicate, compared to mine." Slowly, he drew his finger over her wrist and palm, releasing the tension in the muscles. "This"—he gestured to the bowls of oil and salt between them—"is meant to relax, not exhaust." He winked at her, his smile lifting the corner of his mouth.
Bella chuckled. "Pace myself, then?"
He hummed. "I think you'll eventually want your energy directed elsewhere."
After swallowing nervously, Bella cleared her throat. "Okay."
"And it's my turn—if you wish to invite my touch again?"
"Will you touch my arms?"
Edward did, lifting her left arm to rest in his hand. "You have a scar." He eyed the tiny raised welt.
"Self-inflicted," she said. "Fishing accident—well, me learning to fish."
Edward cocked his head to the side, listening, continuing his massage of both her arms as Bella told her story.
"It took me a while to be convinced that fishing was any fun," she said after recounting it. "I got there eventually. It was something my dad and I used to do together."
Realizing Edward was finished, she dipped her fingers in the small bowl and rubbed his forearms, which were thick with muscle under his tough skin. "Will my skin become as—" she searched for a word that didn't seem offensive.
"As tough as mine? No," Edward said. "But it will permanently be more durable, especially. You will be stronger in general, even after you return home—if that's what you choose."
She glanced up at him, still working on his arms. This was the first time she'd heard him suggest anything but her returning home. Did he want her to stay?
"I know you plan to return to your home on Earth," he said. "I didn't know if you'd given any thought to staying on Sabellia, but the choice will be yours, of course."
That he might want her to remain was . . . a lot. And maybe something she didn't need to think about right in the moment. It was her turn to give him a gentle smile. "Thank you," she said.
They kept talking, repeating the process of smoothing the oil over each other until their arms, feet, calves, and knees were coated in the warmth of the tingly oil. The talking was good. She'd always felt comfortable talking with him, but she felt more so now.
Perhaps there was some wisdom to this tradition—to all the traditions.
It was with far more nerves that Bella turned around and lowered her robe. "My back," she said quietly.
Edward moved his hands slowly, rubbing in soft, rhythmic circles that eased the tension. He didn't stop when her back was coated, instead continuing the gentle massage. When he finished, he rested his hands on her shoulder blades.
"May I kiss you here?" he asked.
"Yes." It was barely a whisper.
He brushed his lips over her skin, a tickling kiss.
Breathing more quickly, Bella hushed out, "Turn around." She wasn't quite ready to be so naked in front of him, at least, not as she looked at him.
Seeing his back was a shock. She'd read books on Sabellian anatomy, but seeing it in person—the texts hadn't prepared her. Bands of muscle stood out under the skin, and the knobs of his spine were more pronounced. She touched him gently, not certain how sensitive he'd be.
"That feels . . . marvelous."
Was he breathing faster?
He gave a low hum of contentment as she pushed the heels of her hands into his lower back. When she'd finished coating his back, she paused, letting her hands hang on his shoulders, wondering if she was supposed to reciprocate and kiss him there.
She . . . wanted to. And maybe not just his back.
"Can I kiss you, Edward?"
"Yes." The reply was immediate.
Her hands still on his shoulders, she turned him to face her, kneeling on the bench so that she could reach his face, closing her eyes as she brought her lips to his.
She didn't expect him to open his mouth at her touch, or to feel his tongue lightly brush against her lower lip. The low moan startled her, and she felt his hands grip her sides, tightening to steady her. So held, she remained where she was, resting her hands on his arms.
He sounded out of breath when he spoke next. "May I touch you freely?"
No more item-by-item permission required? "Done deal."
Edward tilted his head in question.
"Yes," she said. "You may."
Kissing her again, he slid his hands down her sides to her hips. "I would like to pleasure you.'
Pleasure her. "Uh—"
"Unless you wish to do that yourself?" He kissed her shoulder, her clavicle—
"I—um, I don't—I've never done this before, Edward." It wasn't like she hadn't told him, but surely he understood what that meant?
He rubbed a thumb over her cheek, meeting her gaze. "You've never had sexual pleasure?"
Her face felt beet red. "Not with someone," she clarified, hoping he wouldn't ask for particulars.
"Then let me do that for you." In one smooth motion, he stood and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.
Surprised to silence, Bella said nothing as Edward laid her down until he had positioned himself between her knees, lowering his head to—
"Wait!" She pushed him away, bringing her knees together and sitting up, yanking the robe around herself.
Edward sat up as well, reaching for her hand. "I'm sorry. I've upset you. "
"No," Bella said. "I just—I—" How did she explain . . . ? God, she didn't even know what to explain; it was just such an intimate act. "I'm . . . not ready for that . . . yet."
Edward nodded, sliding up to sit beside her. Lightly, he brushed his fingertips over her forearm, and continued to move them back and forth over the fabric of her robe. "Then how would you like me to touch you? If you would like me to continue to touch you?"
"This is okay," she said. "It's . . . hard for me to talk about. I'm . . . it's not something I ever expected to have to direct or tell someone." Her face felt hot with embarrassment.
He hummed, still continuing to brush his fingers over her arm. "Why don't you put my hands where you want them?"
There was a swell of relief. "Okay."
"And you may touch me anywhere you wish," Edward said. "When you're ready."
She turned her face up to accept a light kiss, and then Edward was moving his hands where she placed them, slowly exploring her thighs, her breasts, her hips, before sliding around to her backside. The kisses between them grew more intense. Somewhere along the way she realized their robes were no longer in the way.
Bella touched Edward's chest, smooth but for a few sparse hairs. When she was finally brave enough to look at all of him, he leaned back, giving her room to visually explore. Being naked with him—seeing him naked—wasn't as awkward as she'd thought it would be. He looked . . . well, not that different from what she'd expected. She wasn't brave enough to touch him everywhere, though as she explored, she did brush her hand over the soft fuzz just below his navel.
He chuckled.
"Are you ticklish?" Bella asked.
"A little there, yes." He smiled. "Are you?"
"A little," Bella said.
He ran his index fingers down her sides and she squealed and jerked, making him chuckle.
"More than a little, I'd say." Edward picked up the tumbler of water and offered it to her.
She was surprisingly thirsty and took a drink, as did he. He set the glass down on the nightstand and reached for her again.
"The salt"—he kissed her—"brings several kinds of thirst."
Not for the first time, she felt a wave of arousal.
Now or never.
Holding her breath, she took his hand and placed it between her thighs.
He didn't move it at first, kissing her instead. He urged her mouth open with his tongue as he cupped her, slowly, ever so slowly beginning to move his palm and then his fingers.
She inhaled as he teased her with a finger.
He swept his other hand over her face. "Close your eyes. You'll focus better."
She did, the loss of one sense heightening the others. She felt him kneel beside her, using his free hand to stroke her chest, letting his fingers trail across one breast and then the other, making smaller and smaller circles until he reached the sensitive center. With her eyes closed, it was easier not to think about anything but the sensations Edward was inducing, and she pushed her hands up under the pillow, tilting her hips into his hand.
With his other hand, Edward continued to play with her, sliding his finger lightly up and down her opening. The lack of touch was as stimulating as his fleeting presence. Only when she gave a quiet whimper did he push lightly against her, again repeating the teasing contact, barely inside her. Warmth, heat, pleasure—they all sat around that barely-there touch. Her body began to tremble with the effort of straining for more.
That was when she felt his lips close around her nipple.
She sucked in a breath, twitching against his hand as he finally slid a finger fully into her, pushing it up against the sensitive spot inside. Resting his thumb on top, he rubbed lightly. A wave of sensation rose, and Bella held her breath, chasing the feeling by lifting her hips higher and higher until the pressure broke into a trembling cascade, her orgasm flooding down her legs and into her toes.
When it subsided, Edward leaned over her, still kissing her, continuing his touch by pressing himself against the sensitive flesh between her legs. Though the orgasm waned, the contact kept the pleasant sensation alive.
With the more intimate position, Bella's nerves returned.
"Do you want more?" Edward asked softly, slowing his movements and looking down at her with a tender expression.
"I'm ready," she whispered.
When he kissed her again, she slid her hands into his hair, which she hadn't touched before, his dark curls softer than she'd expected. He hummed softly, settling himself between her legs, and pushing back her knees.
There was a brief and surprisingly unexpected sting as he pressed inside of her, and she sucked in a breath. Had he misunderstood her and begun a mating? But the unpleasant sensation was gone almost as soon as it started, and she let the tension in her arms and legs ease. Edward moved again, and she tensed for a moment, relaxing as he brought himself further inside.
"Are you well?" he asked, gently kissing her cheek.
She nodded.
He moved again. She only felt pleasure.
It must have been nerves, she decided, letting her muscles soften further.
Now she listened to his sounds, a soft groan, the gentle whiff of his breathing. He cupped her head with both hands and pressed his lips to her mouth, then her breasts.
It felt good. She closed her eyes again, giving herself over to the sensation of his coolness above and inside her.
When she opened her eyes, it was to see the lampa light pulsing in time to their movements. Focused on chasing the feeling that was growing inside her, she followed the throb of the light, arching her head back. It was then that she registered the first tiny bite of Edward's claws, tingling against her scalp. It felt fantastic, and she hummed, pushing her heels into the bed. The growing heat between them, the pulsing light, the tautness in her legs—all increased in a quickening rhythm, breaking suddenly as a flood of pleasure swept down her again. Edward stilled soon after and she felt a trembling ripple run through his body before he kissed her once more and rolled off to the side.
It took her longer than him to catch her breath, and he pulled her towards him, wrapping the blanket around them. She was glad for their disparity in height, keeping her gaze on his chest, not certain she could make eye contact without blushing.
They lay there for some time, unmoving except for his occasional light kiss or touch. She wasn't tired, though she found herself wishing she were, just so she could avoid thoughts of what still needed to happen. Shifting and brushing against him, she found him already—or still?—aroused. She wasn't sure. Would it be impolite to ask?
Edward pulled her closer, and another brush answered her questions. Definitely aroused.
She'd thought he'd climaxed, but she hardly had the experience with which to be certain. Or maybe that only happened with the mating act?
Not that it mattered. She was on her own timeline, one that required Edward's help.
"Edward, I think we should . . . mate now." It felt weird to say it.
Edward kissed the top of her head. "Is that what you want?"
With her face still pressed against his chest, she was glad he couldn't see her blush. What she really wanted was to do what they'd just done again. But they were here for a reason and he . . . well, he'd been kind and she didn't want to take advantage of his generosity. Edward nuzzled at her neck, massaging her hip and thigh with a soft hand.
God, it felt so good. She closed her eyes. A small moan escaped her.
"I can pleasure you again, if you want," Edward offered. "Or leave, if you need to rest."
He was making this all about her.
"No, I think we should mate," she said before she could lose her nerve.
Edward stopped moving, using a gentle finger to lift her chin and force her to look at him. "Do you want to mate?" He was watching her carefully.
She swallowed hard. He would know if she lied. Did she want this part? No, not really but . . . she wanted to live and if mating was the way to do that . . .
"Yes," she said, determinedly meeting his gaze. "I want to mate with you."
He nodded and kissed her, nuzzling at her neck again. "Do you remember what I told you?"
She was still feeling a bit muddled and she stretched for the memory. "Yes. You won't be . . . completely yourself for a little while. You'll need to leave after . . . before . . ."
He nodded. "Yes." Another nuzzle at her neck. "And, mating . . . alters us temporarily. I don't want to . . . hurt you, so it will be several days before I can return to you, which I'll only do if I'm fully in control. Most likely, you'll be fully recovered before then, but as you know, it will be . . . unpleasant." There was a guilty tinge to his words."
"I understand, Edward. It's alright." She had already reconciled herself to all of this. Talking about it now would make her more nervous.
He exhaled, the coolness of his breath making her shiver. When he curled his fingers around her shoulders, she felt the tiny and pleasurable prick of his claws.
"Watching you have pleasure has been very gratifying." He traced his tongue over her lower lip.
Despite the intimacy they'd shared, she wasn't certain how to respond to the compliment.
"I liked being with you," she offered shyly.
A smile spread over his face. "I would welcome an invitation to do so again, should you wish it."
With her palm pressed against his chest, Bella paused. Edward had only ever explained the effect on her. Did Sabellian men not feel pleasure in the mating act? Was that why he was asking? "Does—is mating not the same, pleasure-wise? I mean, is it different for you at the end?"
He placed his hand on her other side before lifting himself over her, kissing the corner of her mouth. "It is exceptionally pleasurable—more so than what we've already experienced."
He reminded her of that sensation now, pushing her legs apart, teasing her with himself.
"Most boys experiment with the mating instinct—once. The self-inflicted bite is enough to deter repetitions, but yes, the sensation is . . . transportive, as it will be for you." He hesitated. "At least, it will be after the initial coupling." He leaned in, she thought to a kiss, but it was a nip at her lips. "And only if you wish to repeat it," he added.
Would she? And would he?
"Are you ready to mate with me?" Edward's voice sounded lower. There was a rasp to it.
She nodded.
There was a low growl as he moved his mouth from her lips to her neck to her breasts, the kisses alternating with nips that left her twitching and shivering. He left a trail of goosebumps with his cool breath, the sensation traveling to her stomach, past her navel to her hips, which he gripped tightly, pushing himself inside of her without warning.
This was no gentle intrusion. The thrust was sudden and forceful, leaving her gasping.
Edward's breathing was similarly altered. He remained still inside of her, swallowing audibly, his chest expanding and contracting in rapid succession. After a moment, he gave a harsh grunt, surging forward with another powerful thrust, gripping her shoulders and sinking his claws into her flesh. She didn't think they'd broken the skin, but she felt them clamp down, holding her in place.
He moved faster, the growling more frequent, his grip intensifying. Bella shifted her legs, pushing back impotently at the pressure now bordering on the uncomfortable, but Edward was so much larger and stronger than she that his movements easily overcame her resistance. She knew her instinctive struggles were making it worse and she tried to calm herself but it was difficult to control her panic. Edward's thrusts intensified, the uncomfortable becoming painful.
As he suddenly tensed and spasmed, there was a sharp needling inside and she heard a loud snarl.
Bella froze.
The needling turned into a fire. Gasping, she struggled to push him off of her. She flailed as Edward's weight settled on her, his grip tightening.
"No," he said, grunting, clenching his teeth. He held her tight to himself, turning his head away. "Don't move. Please."
The fire spread from her pelvis outward, and she only distantly registered the sound of the sickening crunch, realizing Edward had sunk his teeth into his upper arm. As he did so, his body spasmed again, the fire shooting down her legs and up into her chest.
She couldn't help crying out at the pain.
Edward lifted himself off of her, kneeling at her feet, his body trembling, hands shaking. "I'm sorry," he managed to grit out.
With his weight gone, Bella fought to catch her breath. The liquid fire receded, evaporating quickly.
Edward roughly dragged the blanket over her and clutched the mattress edge, pulling himself to the side of the bed. "I have to—I need to leave." His expression was agonized.
"I'm okay. Go."
She watched him stumble from the bed, grabbing his robe from the floor as blood poured down his arm. He slammed open the door as he ran and Bella turned over to clutch at her midsection as her muscles began to cramp. From outside she heard the bell on the porch clang loudly, once and then twice more.
Fuck and flee.
The sting was gone, but her insides were roiling. If the amount of discomfort she was in was any indication, the pregnancy would take.
And she wouldn't die.