Chapter 7

She stared up into his fevered gaze. She wondered if she looked as different as she felt now. He looked the same, only sexier, if that was possible. His lids were heavy, his eyes dark with desire. He was still wanting, still hungry. Hungry for her. Waiting for her to fulfill his own needs.

She pulled herself upright and reached for him, laying her hand across the warm coarseness of his jaw. Her thumb traced the sheen of his cherry-red lips. She marveled at the color, the texture of them. What man had lips like this? She leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, not caring that he smelled of her sex; not caring that she was tasting herself. She cared only about giving him what he had just given her - uncensored, selfless pleasure.

He made a throaty, animal sound as her tongue slid into his mouth. His arms went around her immediately, pulling her closer while their mouths collided and consumed again. Her hands were hesitant no more, unabashedly ravishing his body, reveling in its hard heat under her fingertips. She gave in to her greed, and their mutual need; he pulled her closer with an insistence of his own.

They gasped for breath in unison when their kisses demanded too much of them. Her eyes fell to the hill of his Adam’s apple, then the valley of his throat; her lips and tongue soon followed. He tasted of salt and sweat and spice, and she had her answer as to whether dessert could have compared to him.

Nothing could compare to him.

Her fingers splayed over his chest, wallowing once more in the soft flesh and hair concealing the hard muscle beneath. Her eyes drank in his physicality, noting its every perfection and defect. He was long and lean; strong but not overtly athletic; masculine but not obscenely muscular. His flesh and bone were bequeathed from his ancestors and God, not supplements or wasted hours at the gym. She was amazed at the revelation that his vanity had such limits; thrilled that he cared so little about enhancing his physique. She realized she found him more beautiful than she had ever imagined him to be under that suit.

He was real.

Her own nakedness was forgotten as she lost herself in his. Her hands and mouth traveled the length of his long torso, kissing and licking, caressing and massaging every inch of his flesh with a hunger that astonished them both. His moans were uncensored as he watched and felt her body slide slowly down his own, her soft skin pressing against his, her nimble fingers, lips and tongue taking their fill of him. By the time her knees met the floor between his ankles, his dick pulsed with anticipation, straining against the fabric of his pants, ready to enjoy the sweet explorations of her mouth and hands.

Her momentum slowed when her wandering lips and fingers reached the waistband of Edward’s expensive gabardine pants. This was the time she had always chickened out before. With the few random guys she’d picked up at last year’s parties; with Jake this summer. She’d get as far as fumbling around in a guy’s jeans and stroking his erection, but then she’d lose her nerve entirely. She would always panic at the thought of the next step, whether it was to administer a blow job or lose her virginity. She simply hadn’t been ready.

She hated that she hadn’t been ready. It seemed like everyone around her had been ready long before her, or they’d simply been brave enough to go ahead with it regardless. She took a deep breath now and mustered her courage.

You’re almost twenty, a voice in her head admonished. Act like an adult.

“Bella.”

Edward’s quiet voice met her ears like velvet through a fog. She realized she’d been staring at the navy blue outline of his erection, her fingers frozen on the closure of his pants. She cleared her head and looked up at him.

“You don’t have to do this.”

His voice was as gentle as his eyes, glimmering darkly in the deep scarlet rays of the setting sun. He reached down and stroked her hair, then her face.

“This night is about you. What you want. What you need. Nothing else.”

God, but he was perfect. How could he be so perfect? She knew she’d paid him well to say all the right things, but something in his expression looked so sincere that she found herself believing the unbelievable - that he meant what he said.

And once again, she knew that she was ready now. Ready for him. He was the difference between now and all those times before.

“I want you,” she said softly, her emphasis on the last word. “I need you.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. It wasn’t the words she said so much as the way she said them. They weren’t just platitudes to stroke his ego and reassure him. They were as naked and honest as she was. He had no idea why she would need him. She didn’t even know him. He still couldn’t understand why having sex was so important that she would hire a stranger to do it.

But she didn’t feel like a stranger to him, and her words, her eyes, told him she felt the same.

Her gaze was still fixed on his as she lowered one hand over his groin, examining the hard bulge beneath the fine fabric. He took a deep breath, then expelled it noisily when she rubbed her hand back and forth over the length of him.

“I want to make you feel the way you just made me feel,” she said, stroking him harder through his pants. “I need you to tell me what you like.”

He stifled his groan of disbelief. Why did she insist on making this about his pleasure? He wished she were more selfish with her money and her time. He could handle that much better.

“I like you,” he answered truthfully. “You don’t need to return any favors tonight.”

“I want to,” she replied adamantly. He didn’t seem to understand how much she needed to face her fears head on. She almost laughed at the double-entendre as the palm of her hand cupped the head of his gabardine-covered cock. She decided it was high time she freed him, and herself.

Her fingers no longer fumbled as she unhooked the tab closure and unzipped the navy fabric. Looking up at his dark, desirous gaze, she needed no more encouragement. She pulled at the waistband while he obligingly lifted his hips off the couch so that she could pull his pants down, over his thighs, then his knees. She let the fabric bunch around his ankles and wrapped her fingers around the muscles of his calves instead. She ran her hands slowly up his legs, over the soft, light brown hair that covered his pale skin. She slowed further when her hands met the solid muscles of his thighs, and she took her time examining the sinewy feel of them beneath her fingers.

His breath came heavily, his nostrils flaring slightly as she came closer to the legs of his boxer-briefs. She slid her fingers underneath, stroking his legs, pushing the stretchy fabric up toward his groin. She could plainly see the outline of him now under the black cotton, and her breath caught for a moment.

That thing’s going to split me in two. This was her first thought as she gaped at the length and girth of Edward’s erection, barely contained beneath the flimsy material of his underwear. Of course, that’s what she’d thought every time she’d ever laid eyes or hands on any penis in the past. All four of them, to be exact.

She knew that was part of her problem. She was a chicken. She didn’t like pain, or blood. But after her humiliating experience with Jake a few weeks ago, she had come to regard her virginity as a band-aid that was in need of a swift yank. An act that would cause intense and unavoidable, but hopefully brief, pain.

She took another deep breath to clear her thoughts. She would worry about that later. Right now, she wanted to explore. Her curiosity finally got the better of her fear as she stared at the bulge being strangled by its cotton confines. Edward had done amazing, unbelievable things to her just moments ago without her even asking. He deserved to experience those things in return, no matter what he said. She only hoped she could rise to the challenge.

“Bella, it’s okay,” his voice drifted softly to her again through the fog. His fingers played lightly with her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder, baring one breast. Her nipple was taut and ready; and so was she.

“It’s not okay,” she said with a slight frown. “But it will be.”

She removed her fingers from under the legs of his underwear and grasped the waistband instead. She pulled on it decisively, and once again he lifted his body to assist her. The cotton came down; his dick sprang up. It pointed straight up at her chin, pulsing slightly, impatiently. For the first time in Bella Swan’s life, she was face-to-face - or rather face-to-crotch, she mentally corrected herself - with a fully exposed erection. As she gaped at it, she realized she wasn’t afraid anymore.

She was fascinated.

She studied its anatomy in the rich scarlet rays of the sunset, its pale hues darkening as the light waned. She had no idea how long or thick it really was, in terms of inches; she only knew that it looked enormous to her when she contemplated the ways in which she might tame it.

She also found it oddly beautiful, rising from Edward’s body like some flesh and blood monolith: a monument to his masculinity, and a tribute to her desirability. It bobbed and twitched slightly as his blood pumped relentlessly through it; its tip glistened slightly in the last flames of sun. She had made him this way - had turned a flaccid vessel into an engorged demigod demanding satisfaction.

And she would be the one to satisfy him.

She had no real idea how she would accomplish such a thing, but she was determined to succeed. It couldn’t be that difficult. She had watched plenty of videos that showed her what to do. But this was definitely the first time that she had ever wanted to do the things she had seen on her computer screen.

She was amazed that her first instinct was to touch her tongue to that throbbing tip. But she allowed her fingers first access, since they were closer, and already creeping toward the base of Edward’s engorged member. The minute they closed around his silky flesh, he emitted a sound so guttural that her grip on him immediately tightened.

Her eyes raised to his as she slowly pushed her right fist up the length of his shaft to the tip, then back down again. His breathing grew heavier, as did his gaze. She was bringing something primal to the surface, and not just in him, she realized. She liked the feeling it gave her - powerful, visceral. She pumped her hand up and down, relishing the feel of velvet skin over rigid heat. She traded hands so the left could enjoy the sensation; then gently squeezed his balls with the right.

Edward groaned and his eyes clamped shut for a moment; but they opened again quickly, too enraptured by the vision of Bella’s hands on him to miss more than a moment of it. He had thought he would go mad while she was deliberating whether or not she could go through with this. For a split second, he felt pity for the boys she had unwittingly teased to the brink of insanity with her virgin’s anxiety. By the time her hot little hands finally wrapped themselves around him, his relief nearly matched his arousal.

She experimented until she figured out the rhythm he craved, noting his breath coming quicker to match the pace of her hands as they pumped his desperate cock. He stared hungrily at her over the rise and fall of his laboring chest, mentally begging her to wet him with her tongue before he began to chafe. But he didn’t want to start giving her directions and risk making her feel inadequate. He closed his eyes again at the thought of her mouth on him, and he moaned softly in frustration.

She was enthralled with the soft sounds that filled the quiet air - his animal grunts and pants; the friction of his skin against hers as she stroked him. But something was missing. The feel, the noise, the taste of wetness.

She gave in to her initial instinct and pressed the tip of her tongue to the swollen tip of his cock, then lapped at the salty fluid she found there. She found that she rather liked the taste, not to mention the sensation of his velvety-soft skin against her tongue.

Edward’s groan was louder, slightly higher-pitched this time, and she was euphoric. She swirled her tongue around the entire head, tracing and tickling its outlines, while her fist gently twisted the shaft. His gaze grew even darker, smoldering with want and need in the deepening shadows of twilight. The impending darkness drove her further, and she let her mouth roam freely now: tongue licking him up and down, lips closing over him, mouth pushing down, taking him deeper inside.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips raising, unable to keep from thrusting gently into that hot, wet orifice. She had gone from zero to sixty in only a few minutes, but he was enjoying the ride too much to tell her to slow down. She didn’t seem to care, either, sucking him in and out, letting his cock reach further down her throat as she worked. If she really hadn’t done this before, then she was a natural, he thought to himself. He resisted the urge to take her head in his hands and fuck her mouth in earnest.

He buried his hands in his own hair instead, then watched with shock and awe while she worked him over with her fingers and her gorgeous mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this turned on watching a woman go down on him. Maybe it was the fact that he usually wore a condom that was the difference. Maybe it was the idea that these were virgin lips on him - that his cock was invading uncharted waters, and he was her first real and literal taste of a man.

He knew, somehow, that it was more than these things. But he couldn’t allow himself to consider the other implications right now. Hell, he was having trouble thinking at all. He wanted to come. He was desperate to. He wanted to claim and mark that unspoiled territory by spilling his seed, with a testosterone-driven urgency as old as mankind.

“Bella,” he whispered hoarsely, feeling the need to warn her. Her lips were wrapped around him, swallowing him, owning him.

She blinked and released him, surprised to hear him speak. She was amazed at how absorbed she had become in his rapture. The more he lost control, the more she reveled in the heady power and pleasure it gave her. She was amazed that she had been so reticent to do this to a boy before. She was intoxicated by the smell, the taste, the feel of his manhood throbbing in time to the rhythm of her hands and mouth. She wanted to make him erupt. She couldn’t wait to drink every drop.

“What?” she asked, looking up at him questioningly.

“Stop, baby. You’re going to make me come.” He reached down and ran his fingers through the silky hair at her temples.

She almost laughed. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but not like this. Not in your mouth,” he whispered, though his tone was unconvincing.

She squeezed and stroked and massaged every part of him between her hands, with just the right amount of pressure to make him whimper once more at the unbearably delicious sensations.

“That’s exactly where I want you to come,” she informed him.

He shook his head in mild disbelief. Was she for real? His hesitant little virgin suddenly wanted him to unload in her mouth? He began to wonder if she wasn’t a theater major in school. Maybe this had all been an elaborate act. But his hormones were too hopped up at the moment for him to care about her motivations. Right now, he and Bella both wanted the same thing. He could come up with no argument for that.

He closed his eyes and succumbed to her hot hands and hotter, wetter mouth. He felt the throb in his cock begin to churn; felt the heat ignite to a flame at the base of his groin. She seemed to sense his impending eruption, for her hand began pumping him furiously, fingers stimulating the head with each pass. He hadn’t realized his hands were still in her hair until now, when his fingers gripped her skull at the onset of his orgasm.

The minute he cried out in release, her hand was gone and her mouth replaced it. He muttered a string of incoherent obscenities at the sensation of her tongue cradling his cock as it pulsed with stream after stream of ejaculate. He forgot how incredible it could feel to explode like this inside a girl, no barriers between them, physical or otherwise. No guilt, no shame. Just sweet submission. He watched her drink him down and his surrender was complete.

He ran his fingers through Bella’s hair once more, stroking her scalp, memorizing the sight of her beautiful face as she finished him off. He found himself fighting back tears, and he didn’t know why. His head fell back on the couch and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at her anymore or he would do it - he’d fucking break down and start crying like a baby.

Over a blow job.

What the hell had she done to him?

Bella tried hard not to grimace as she quickly swallowed his every emission, then gently licked him clean. She had not been prepared for his semen to taste so . . . well, if not bad, exactly, definitely not good. But the ecstasy on his face, in his voice, and pulsing through every inch of his body, was definitely worth it. She felt every bit as euphoric at what she had just done to him as what he’d done to her.

She felt even now. In a good way.