Chapter 6

Shockwaves barreled down her spine at the vibration of his velvety voice in her ear. She was glad he was right behind her, to catch her in case his seductive assault of all her senses made her quake right out of her high heels and topple over.

She nodded feebly, both terrified and thrilled at the prospect of whatever she had just agreed to.

“I want you to let go of all your inhibitions now,” he instructed, his tone low and persuasive. Her quivering only increased as his voice continued to caress her ear and shimmer down her back. He placed his hands on her waist, drawing her body nearer.

“Whatever it is you’re feeling, I want you to let yourself feel it. No holding back. No self-consciousness. No shame. Tonight is about letting go. Being whoever you want to be. Taking whatever you need.”

His lips touched the corner of her jaw, right below her ear, as his arms wrapped around her. Her breath came out in a tiny sob. She could feel herself beginning to dissolve; to give in to the myriad sensations that pulsed through her body at the sound, the smell, the feel of him so close to her.

“Whatever held you back before is in the past. There’s only you and me now, here, in this room. Nothing else matters.”

As the words left his lips, he recognized their truth. Not just for her, but for him. He needed this as much as she did. Maybe more.

She nodded her consent again, and his arms tightened around her. He kissed her neck again and again, working his way down her shoulder to the strip of blue fabric that held up her dress. He reached one hand up to pull the material down, baring her shoulder to his hungry mouth. She collapsed against him, hot and pliable in his arms.

He could feel his own desires becoming more insistent, less patient. He pulled at her skirt until its hem was raised high over her legs, allowing his hands access to her silken thighs. He groaned softly as he ran his fingers up their curves and over her hips, his thumbs reaching back to the smooth skin of her bare buttocks. He pulled back slightly to view the lacey string of black material that separated her cheeks, and his breath came out in a raspy sigh. He slid both hands over her firm, round flesh, giving each cheek a squeeze.

He swore softly in her ear, and her head fell back against his chest. He accepted her sign of submission and reached up to unzip the back of her dress before pulling it over her head.

She raised her arms and let him free her. Her body went rigid with excitement as the cool air and warm sun waged a battle over her tingling skin. She was ready for his eyes on her again; ready for the throb between her legs to intensify into aching need.

He tossed her dress gently over his suit coat on the couch, then turned his attention back to the irresistible sight of her bathed in the deep amber of the setting sun. He walked slowly around her, studying her once more in painstaking detail.

Her alabaster skin was without flaw. Her freckles were so few that he could count them on both hands. Her black bra was designed to enhance her delicate cleavage; her skimpy panties made to reveal her stunning, tight ass. She was incredible. He wanted to drop to his knees and worship her; to bury his face between her legs until she screamed and sobbed and came harder than she’d ever come before.

But what did she want? He looked deeply into her eyes for the answer. Long-lashed drops of chocolate stared up at him, beckoning. Her breathing was labored, her chest heaving with the effort. The sound of it was a siren, calling to him. He came closer, then reached around her to find the closure of her bra. He undid the measly hook with little effort and slowly pulled the satin and lace from her body, finally revealing her breasts to his grateful eyes.

He was too entranced to notice her blanch slightly and bite her lip. She was always nervous to be naked in front of a man, worried that she would be found lacking. Too small, too thin, not voluptuous enough. She took a deep breath and remembered his orders: no self-consciousness tonight. His expression told her that he was not disappointed in what he saw. She took comfort in that and tried to stand tall before him, even in the glare of an unrelenting sun.

He reached out to touch her; she braced herself for the feel of his hand on her breast. But he chose her chin instead, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. He drew closer, staring down at her with those penetrating sea-colored eyes.

“I’ll never forget the way you look right now,” he said. “The way the sun plays over your body. . . your face.” He shook his head, as though he could not find the right words.

Her head shook too, in mild disbelief. Clearly she had an effect on him. He couldn’t be that good an actor. That’s what she had to tell herself in order to do as he asked - to give in, to let go. She had to pretend that he would do the same.

She had no way of knowing that he was not pretending, even if he couldn’t quite admit it to himself. If he assigned more significance to this evening than any of the others, he would not be able to go through with it.

But the self-deception was a thin disguise. He knew damned well how different this was, for both of them. He simply couldn’t consider the ramifications after this night was over and their time together came to an end. She was here with him now, and she was his as much as he was hers.

He branded her with a kiss, hot and searing, possessive and greedy. She melted instantly against him, and her bare skin against his only stoked the fire burning between them. Her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer; his tight embrace lifted her right off the ground as their hungry mouths consumed yet still searched for more.

He effortlessly carried her the few steps it took to reach the couch and laid her back on the cushions. He stared down at her golden skin with an almost maddening lust as he yanked the shirt from his body and threw it to the floor. He fell upon her and she welcomed him without reservation, limbs opening to receive him as he settled into her soft curves.

He kissed her again, hard, and her passion easily matched his. Slow down, came a voice in the back of his mind. This was not the way to woo her. This was not his style. She had infected him with her impatience, her recklessness.

Oh, but she was too responsive for him to stop. Her hands gripped his hair just as fiercely; her arms held him just as tightly. She writhed beneath him, her body moving rhythmically with his. If they weren’t still partially dressed, he’d already be inside her right now.

But wait. No, he wouldn’t. This was her first time. He had to take things more slowly, for her sake, even if she didn’t yet understand why.

He managed to rein himself in, moving his insatiable lips to the tender skin of her cheek, then her neck, then her chest. As he came closer to tasting the rosy peak of one quivering breast, she stilled beneath him, and her hands gentled in his hair. Her body’s cues were all he needed to lessen his intensity to match hers. He slowed his pace further, his hand cradling the swell of flesh and stroking it softly before his mouth took its fill.

She gasped when his lips closed over her nipple, his tongue tickling the tip until it hardened under the tender assault. She squirmed with pleasure beneath him, amazed at the slow burn that crept through her groin as his mouth sucked and teased one breast, then the other. Her hands began to travel from his hair to his neck, down his broad shoulders and back, exploring the hard curves of muscle and bone that moved in tandem with his exploring mouth.

She let out an audible sigh when his lips left her breasts and worked their way south, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her belly. The closer he came to the lace edge of her panties, the more her body tensed in readiness. She couldn’t wait for the feel of his mouth between her legs, even as anticipation stiffened her beneath his gentle touch.

“Relax,” he murmured softly as he massaged her flat, rigid belly. He planted soft kisses all over her hips, her abdomen, the scrap of lace covering her sex. It was no use. She was as stiff as a board, stiff as his hard-on.

He returned to face level above her and looked into her anxious eyes. He stroked her cheek and smoothed her hair.

“You know I won’t hurt you, don’t you?” he said.

She nodded quickly; too quickly. He ran his fingers slowly over her full, pink lips. He imagined that when she opened her legs for him, he would be greeted with the exact same shade of pink.

“Have you ever had an orgasm before?” he questioned point blank.

Her eyes popped open in surprise. She couldn’t believe he had asked her that. She didn’t know how to respond. The truth was, she’d had plenty of orgasms. She’d discovered how to pleasure herself at the age of sixteen. The problem was, she’d never managed to have one with anyone else in the room.

Finally, she reluctantly nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked skeptically.

She glared up at him. “Yes, I’m sure,” she replied acidly.

His crooked grin made a brief appearance. “That’s good. I’m glad,” he said in all sincerity. “But the real question is, has any guy ever given you one? Or were they all self-induced?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “What are you, a mind-reader or something?” she blurted before she could censor herself.

His chuckle was warm rather than condescending. “From what I understand, that’s pretty normal for a lot of girls at first. I want to change that, if you’ll let me.”

She did want that, more than anything. She nodded again in agreement.

“Do you remember what I asked you, about letting go of your inhibitions?” He didn’t wait for her nod this time. “There’s no room for self-consciousness here. Pretend you left it outside that hotel door. You can pick it up again in the morning if you think you still need it. But I don’t think you will.”

She didn’t know what to say. He made it sound so easy. She was amazed at how tender his eyes were as he gazed down at her, when he had met her only an hour ago. How could he look at her like this? Like he really saw her, instead of looking through her, or seeing what he wanted to see.

And just like that, she was ready. Really ready this time.

She reached up to stroke his face, to trace the soft line of his lips. He was amazing. If God had handed her a paintbrush and asked her to design her own version of the ideal male, she could not have come up with anyone as perfect as the flawed man hovering expectantly over her.

There it was - the look he’d been waiting for all evening.

Trust.

He leaned down to kiss her; reached out to touch her once more. He shifted his body slightly, leaning on one elbow next to her so that his other arm was free to explore. He was slow and gentle this time, caressing every inch of skin within reach. By the time he worked his hand back down to the string of underwear around her hips, she raised them to meet his touch. His fingers slid easily underneath the lace and satin, moving in time with the rhythmic pulse of her body undulating softly beneath him. Each time, he reached a little further down: to the trimmed, narrow triangle of hair; then over her smooth, hairless labia; then between them, stroking her clitoris; and finally to the slick opening of her vagina.

Her moans increased in volume with his explorations; her hips tilted upward, her legs parted wider. She was ready for him, and his throbbing cock knew it. It would have to wait its turn. His fingers were at the helm now, ready to slowly stretch her, fill her and make her ready for its girth, as much as possible. She was so wet with desire that the tip of his middle finger slid easily inside her with every pass. He began to drive it a little deeper each time, and she continued to lift her hips to meet him, pulling him in.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he murmured in her ear, kissing her cheek.

“So good,” she whispered back. She panted in time with the movement of his hand until his middle finger was all the way in, stroking her deep inside. Her body met every thrust of his finger while she whimpered softly in accompaniment.

“So sexy,” he sighed as he watched her. “These panties are getting in my way, though. You don’t mind if I remove them, do you?”

She let out a tiny cry of dismay as he pulled his hand from her and raised himself up on his haunches. He gently pulled the g-string down her torso and around the crook of her bent knees, revealing her freshly-waxed pussy as he freed it from its lace prison. He smiled faintly that she would undergo a bikini wax for him, a total stranger.

Maybe she had sensed that in some ways, she would already know him better than anyone else did.

He tried not to stare at the perfection of the pink, glistening flesh between her parted thighs. His dick twitched, aching to be released from the confines of his pants and briefs and allowed to explore the fertile playground so close by.

He fought his baser instincts and raised his eyes to meet hers again. Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment, but she held his gaze, almost defiantly. He could see how hard she was trying not to shrink from him; not to give in to self-consciousness. Her legs were closing together, instinctively attempting to shield her vulnerability from his prying eyes and hands.

“If you had any idea how sexy you are to me right now, you wouldn’t try to close yourself off from me,” he said quietly.

He ran his fingers lightly up the front of her shins before resting them on her knees. His eyes never left hers as he slowly but insistently began to push her legs apart. Her ragged breathing started up again and she bit her lip, but he persisted. Gently, firmly he pressed his hands down the insides of her thighs, opening them up to him, further and further, until they gave way completely.

Her sigh was one of surrender as she lay spread open before him, utterly exposed in the now-scarlet rays of the sun. Her every nerve felt exposed as well, raw with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. She gazed helplessly up at him, thinking how much he resembled some kind of sun god that ancient peoples would have worshipped, his hair rising like fiery flames above his beautiful face. She counted on his benevolence now as she waited with bated breath for him to touch her again.

He felt the gravity of her resignation; the pull of her yielding to him. It was enormous, overwhelming.

“I promise you won’t be sorry, Isabella,” he said, his voice hoarse with the earnestness of his vow.

“Bella,” she corrected him softly. “It’s just ‘Bella.’”

Her honesty nearly did him in. She had given him her real name from the start. And now she was giving him so much more. More than he could possibly deserve.

“Bella,” he repeated reverently. He leaned down to find her cheek with his lips again. “Beautiful,” he whispered its Italian equivalent in between gentle kisses across her face. And then, as they traveled down her neck, “Beautiful swan.”

She wanted to laugh, having felt the cruel irony of her name most of her ugly-duckling life. But the laugh caught in her throat and sounded only like a tiny cry of pleasure as his mouth began to explore the length of her body again, inching closer to that wet, yearning place between her thighs. She let the remnants of mortification burn hot in her cheeks as his tongue teased the sparse bit of hair she’d instructed the bikini-wax technician to leave behind, just so she wouldn’t feel entirely bare.

And then, she took a deep breath and did what she feared was impossible.

She let go.

Her legs fell limply open, her damp flesh vulnerable and waiting beneath the hot breath of his mouth. Her fingers toyed with his hair, unable to keep still as her nerves tried to catch up with her resolve. She braced herself for the feel of that wet tongue on her quivering flesh, growing more eager for its ascent as the seconds passed.

He delayed the inevitable, moving his mouth to the creamy skin of her inner thighs instead. Kissing, licking, nipping softly, closer and closer to her sex, but not quite touching her most sensitive parts.

As he turned his attention from her left leg to her right, her building frustration outweighed her fear. Her body began to dance ever so subtly, groin lifting, legs straining to push her hungry pussy toward his face.

He thrilled to her awakening; arousal defeating her reluctance. He doubted she even realized her hands were pushing his head gently toward the promised land. Her scent intoxicated him - pungent but sweet. The unmistakable smell of desire. The bright pink flesh of her sex was tantalizingly close, begging to be tasted.

He gave in to his need and hers, touching the tip of his tongue to her swollen hood. Her gasp was audible, a cry of intense pleasure. He sought to intensify the sound by flicking his tongue over her sensitive flesh, then licking more firmly, lapping at the tender skin until she was sobbing softly.

She was delicious. Insanely so. He tried to remember if anyone before her had tasted or smelled this good to him, and he was sure the answer must be “no.” He rarely performed oral sex on his clients anyway, demanding a clean bill of health from their doctors before agreeing to the deed. But he knew there was no need for such precautions with the gorgeous girl lying before him.

He exhaled loudly and it sounded primal, almost a growl. Her hands tightened in his hair, fingers gripping his skull, and he gave in to her involuntary response.

He let his mouth roam freely now, lips sucking and pulling at hers, tongue probing up and down every surface of her sex until it pushed into her wet opening. Her cries of approval continued, and so did he, tonguing her deeply, tasting her hot cream and tickling her flesh with his beard.

She massaged his scalp and undulated helplessly beneath him. She had never felt anything like this in her life. She had always been too embarrassed to let things go this far; to allow another human to see her, let alone taste her, this intimately and completely. But Edward was right - there was no room for self-consciousness anymore. It took too much effort to feel it. Every ounce of her energy was concentrated in the nerve endings between her legs, being stimulated so thoroughly by his hot, hungry mouth that she could do nothing but revel in the resulting sensations that shook her.

He marveled at her receptiveness now. He watched with fascination, and growing lust, as she came undone beneath him. She was ready for more, and his hands answered the call. He pulled her labia wide as he tongued her mercilessly. When she cried out at the intensity, he massaged her firmly with his fingers, increasing the speed until her groans grew more guttural and her opening dripped with need.

He took advantage of her heightened desire by pushing two fingers into her this time. He slid his middle and ring fingers slowly but insistently into her tight vagina. Its walls resisted slightly, but were unable, unwilling, to stop the intrusion.

She gasped at the sensation - not quite pain, not quite yet pleasure. His fingers were so much bigger than her own. Thicker, longer. She wasn’t used to this mush pressure inside her, and she whimpered as he slowly moved his fingers, twisting them slightly, then pushing in and out in a lethargic rhythm until her body relaxed and began to respond. When her hips pushed against him, meeting his gentle thrusts, he knew that he was halfway home.

He tickled her again with his tongue as he increased the rhythm and pressure of his fingers. He gauged her responsiveness by the movement of her body, the flush of desire across her chest, her eyes closing and head falling back as she continued to moan softly without cease. And when she was ready, he switched his ring finger for his thicker index finger, plunging it along with the middle until both were buried inside her wet heat.

She gasped again as he stretched her, and the muscles of her belly tensed in protest. But within minutes, she was rocking in time with his ministrations once more. She had no more control over her body, it seemed. He played her as masterfully as he had played the piano, and his music swelled within her until it was all she could feel.

“God, yes,” she heard herself exclaim as the motion of his hands and mouth increased in both speed and intensity. She could feel the burn beginning - the beginning of a climax stirring deep within her.

He felt it, too, and he was enthralled. He followed her lead instinctually now, fingering her harder and faster; wishing it was his dick doing the work, but too entranced by her impending orgasm to stop.

He became reckless then and pushed his ring finger back inside her with the others. She cried out in that maddening mixture of pleasure and pain, but he knew her pain would be short-lived. He was sure of her body’s compliance now, and even surer of its impending ecstasy. He was going to make her come like she’d never come before. Maybe he could even make her come through intercourse, now that he had stretched her this much. There was no telltale blood; no sign of her virginity’s demise other than the tight resistance that his fingers had encountered and conquered. She hadn’t been lying about pleasuring herself before.

She hadn’t lied about anything.

He couldn’t allow himself the indulgence of his own guilt. This moment was about her. And she was glorious in those last minutes before the climax shook her body. Her skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat in the dying embers of the sun. Her face and chest were pink with exertion, her nipples taut with pleasure, her pussy swollen and wet from being so thoroughly worked over.

“Christ. So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his blasphemy a coarse and inadequate expression of what he was truly feeling as she writhed before him. She made a few oaths of her own as she bucked under the motion of his relentless hand. She grasped the pillows behind her, her head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut. The moment was at hand.

His tore himself from his watchful trance long enough to lower his mouth to her sex. His tongue flickered rapidly across the erect flesh of her clitoris and her body surged upward as it contracted within, muscles gripping his fingers in wave after wave of euphoria. She sobbed and cursed, and it was the most beautiful melody he’d ever heard. She shook and trembled for a prolonged moment, then finally collapsed, panting and spent, on the couch cushions.

He felt dazed, even stunned, as he gazed down at her. No woman’s orgasm had ever affected him like this. He was at a loss.

But Bella was found. The phrase “seeing stars” came to her mind as the blood pounded in her ears and coursed through her body. Nothing she had experienced at her own hands ever came close to this. This was . . . otherworldly. An out-of-body experience. Except that her body was so fully engaged in what Edward had just done to her that she’d never felt so completely in tune with it in her life. In the past, her mind had always been detached, never fully able to be a part of the physicality of sex. But either he had rendered her thoughts null and void, or he had made them part and parcel of her ecstasy, she wasn’t sure which.

She didn’t care anymore. Maybe that was the real test. And the real victory, for both Edward and her sexuality.

She was free.