Chapter 10

Bella couldn’t stop staring at the king-sized bed.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been frozen to the spot, studying the modern leaf design woven into its sumptuous silk comforter and matching pillow shams. The bed was big, beautiful and imposing, not unlike a couple of other things she’d encountered already this evening.

She couldn’t figure out why the sight of it made her anxious. She hadn’t changed her mind about losing her virginity in this very bed, to the troubled man standing out in the hall with the Enforcer. He made her feel many contrary things, but fear wasn’t one of them. She didn’t understand how he could make her so nervous, yet calm and reassured at the same time. That didn’t make sense. She only knew that no matter what Emmett implied, she trusted Edward, more than she had any other guy before him.

That didn’t make any sense, either. Mike Newton had been the picture of trust-worthiness, following her around like a harmless, hopeful puppy the minute she’d moved to Forks at the age of sixteen. And Jake had been her best friend all summer, right up until their pact had taken such an ugly turn. She was still angry with him for that. She was more angry with herself for missing his friendship after the whole thing blew up in her face. She should have known that trying to bring sex into the equation would ruin everything, one way or another.

But this, with Edward, was the opposite. This was about nothing but sex, no matter what else she was beginning to feel for him. He’d made that crystal clear the minute she attempted to get to know him better. She would be foolish to believe that he felt anything for her in return, no matter what he said or how he looked at her just now, before he called the Enforcer. She had paid him well to treat her like she was special, she kept reminding herself. All he had been trying to do when he abruptly ended their game of Twenty Questions was remind her what their reality was. No misunderstandings would come into play as long as they both knew what they were here for.

And he was right - it was better this way, she reasoned. She’d been friends with both Mike and Jake first, and look how that had turned out. The less she knew or cared about Edward Cullen, the better.

She frowned at the cool silk adorning the dark-framed bed. It needed warmth.

She slipped back into the living room to retrieve some of the candles Edward had set strategically around the suite. After a few trips, she had rearranged them artfully throughout the bedroom. She smiled at the soft, exotic glow they created as they tossed flickering shadows on the walls and draperies. This was better. This was a suitable backdrop for the attempt to make losing her virginity an epic event, or at least a memorable one. It certainly beat the hell out of the back seat of Jake’s ancient rebuilt VW Rabbit.

Outside the suite, Edward ran his fingers nervously through his hair and took a deep breath while Emmett retreated down the hall. This was it. He was about to sleep with his first virgin. The tension that wracked his body made him feel like he was the one who was about to lose something he’d never be able to get back.

He called her name softly as he opened the door, but was met with silence. He searched the kitchen, dining and living areas, but they were empty. Maybe she was in the bathroom again. She was probably ten times more nervous than he was.

The bathroom had two entrances: one near the suite’s foyer, and one to an oversized sunken bathtub that connected to the bedroom. He knocked on the former before trying the door; it opened easily to darkness. That meant Bella was waiting for him in the bedroom.

He let out a ragged breath, then used the facilities himself before going to meet her. He shook his head at his own reflection as he washed his hands, then splashed some cold water on his face. What the hell was his problem? He’d slept with countless women before her. Young, not-so-young, not young at all. There was no type of female, and no type of sexual proclivity, that he hadn’t encountered before.

Except for the Bella type of female. A virgin.

His own first time had been with a slightly older, more experienced girl. His second time had been, too; and every time after that. He had been no one’s first. No one’s eternal, irrevocable memory of their first sexual encounter. He didn’t count the boys Bella had fooled around with before him, or even the manual and oral sex he’d performed on her already. He knew this would be different. At least, it would be for her. And for him too, if he was being honest.

“Stop being such a pussy,” he hissed under his breath to his glowering reflection in the mirror. “You act like you’re the virgin here. Man up and go take care of business.”

He’d given himself similar pep-talks in the past when required, but not quite like this one. They were usually to talk himself into things he really didn’t feel like doing. This time he was pumping himself up for something he wanted far too much.

He said her name again as he slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

“Bella?”

Her skin raised in goose bumps at the sound. She was sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting. She’d been staring at one of the candles on the dresser until it had burned multiple golden spots into her retinas. When she looked up at Edward, his face was illuminated by a halo of phantom flames. She smiled at the illusion. Her sun god was still glorious long after night had fallen.

She looked so small to him, sitting there on the oversized bed. Vulnerable. Her eyes were two black spots of ink, dotted with the reflection of the candles she’d brought into the room. He couldn’t read her expression, even when he came closer. Her gaze was remarkably placid, if expectant. How could she be so sure? Why was he the one who felt like a wreck?

He sat down next to her and turned to study her. Her breathing quickened, the first sign that she might not be as calm as she appeared on the surface. Their eyes began a conversation, asking and granting permission in turn. When he parted his lips to speak, her mouth mimicked his, opening, waiting.

“The candles look nice,” he said, his voice rough. He cleared it with a quiet cough.

“Yeah. Thanks for bringing them.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he always brought candles. He didn’t want to tell her a lot of things, but he found himself talking anyway.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” He reached out and touched his fingertips to the dark silk growing from her temple. “We could watch a movie first. Or finish our game. I promise to answer all your questions without flying off the handle.”

“I might take you up on that. Later,” she answered. Her hand crept up to touch the soft terry opening of his bathrobe, then slid inside. She located his heart within seconds, pressing her hot fingers against its rapid beat. His own breathing matched the pace of hers now. His hand drifted down from her hair to the side of her face, caressing her warm skin. He couldn’t stop staring at her eyes, so trusting, so willing. So ready.

She looked up at him curiously. He seemed to be as nervous as she was, maybe more so - yet another thing about this evening that didn’t make any sense.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” she said, her eyes questioning him. “You aren’t a virgin too, are you?” she added with a laugh.

His face cracked with that slightly crooked grin of his. “No, not like you think. But the truth is, I’ve never done this before, either.”

Her forehead scrunched in confusion. “What . . . ?” she began, shaking her head.

“I’ve never taken anyone’s virginity,” he explained. He felt somewhat relieved now that he had confessed this one truth to her, but she looked more confused than ever.

“Never? Not even when you were younger?” She had a hard time imagining such a thing - that he had only been with experienced girls.

“Never,” he reiterated. His hand still stroked the side of her face, his fingers gently massaging her scalp through thick strands of hair. She couldn’t seem to move her palm from his chest, too enamored with the feel of his heart thumping persistently under its surface.

“So I guess this is a first for both of us,” she said, a pleased grin slowly lifting the corners of her mouth.

“I guess it is,” he agreed softly.

Their faces were close now, neither of them knowing how they got there. They inhaled each other’s air in shallow breaths. His thumb traced her plump bottom lip and his eyes followed. He knew that once he kissed her, he would not stop. Nothing would stop him until he had found ecstasy inside this bewildering, remarkable girl.

But what would she find once she let him in?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he told her. His whisper was barely audible.

She was floored by the emotion on his face, his blue-green eyes as watery and fathomless as the Sound. He had to feel something for her - something more than just perfunctory concern. If he didn’t, then he deserved an Academy Award.

She felt herself melting under his gaze, his touch, just as she had earlier when he’d studied her under the glare of the setting sun. She knew her common sense was dissolving with the rest of her senses. She didn’t care if it was foolish to want him this much, this stranger who knew how to reach her most intimate places with so little effort. If she was a fool, then she might as well rush in, angels be damned. For all appearances, the man looking at her so intently right now might be Gabriel himself.

“You won’t hurt me,” she told him, surprised at the volition in her voice. She gave him a small smile and added, “At least not for long.”

His lopsided grin made a brief appearance. “Are you going to hold me to that?” he questioned, knowing it was a promise he couldn’t make.

“I’d rather just hold you,” she said.

He let out a short laugh even though her expression was earnest. His own was dead sober by the time his lips reached hers. Her mouth opened immediately, inviting him to taste and explore, then returning the favor. Merging lips were followed by limbs, their bodies craving more contact. Robes fell open as skin sought skin, heat kindled fire, want fostered need. Their torsos were soon pressed together in desperation, hands grasping at one another’s flesh under thick swaths of terry cloth while they fell back on the cool silk comforter together.

He softly moaned something that sounded like her name as he rolled on top of her, relishing the feel of her beneath him, her legs and arms tangled with his. He kissed her hungrily, clutching her hair between greedy fingers and pressing her into the bed.

She loved his weight upon her, hot and hard and soft and deliciously crushing. Her hands groped his shoulders, then his back, while her legs parted to draw him in. Their bodies had already begun a sensuous dance together, finding that primordial motion designed to join them in a sexual rhythm as old as time itself.

Edward raised himself up on his hands long enough to shrug one arm, then the other, out of his robe and push it aside. She held her own arms out so that he could peel off the oversized terry sleeves and free her as well. They made noises of triumph at being able to clutch each other close without impediment, and they sealed their victory with a deep kiss.

He didn’t know why he was surprised at her eagerness as she wrapped her limbs around him, matching his every kiss and caress with one of her own. He was even more shocked when she managed to maneuver him onto his back and straddle him, covering his chest with kisses and grinding her hips against his. She certainly didn’t seem like a girl who’d been reticent about sex in the past. He liked thinking that he was the first, the only man who could bring her to act on her desires; that she was so attracted to him, any hesitation was obliterated in the heat of the moment.

He was high on that power as she writhed over him, moaning softly in between kisses. She had discovered her own feminine rhythm, rocking atop his body and teasing his rigid cock with the slick flesh between her legs. All it would take now was just the right movement, the slightest repositioning, for her to take him inside.

Bella seemed to sense his thoughts, for she slowed and arched her back, pushing back against the head of his straining erection. The tip easily found her creamy opening, lodging itself there.

Their eyes locked; their breath caught. Edward’s hands positioned themselves on her hips, fingers splayed over her round cheeks. He held her steady and gently lifted his pelvis, pushing his swollen head into her wetness until it was enveloped in her hot flesh.

She gasped at the pressure of his thick cock demanding entrance. He persisted until the tip was fully inside her, and then, after a moment, he pulled back. As soon as she let out a shaky breath and took another, he did it again, pushing a little further this time, clutching her ass tightly in his fingers so that she couldn’t pull away. She bit her lip and gripped his shoulders at the discomfort, but she refused to make a sound. This was what she wanted - what she’d come here for. She wasn’t backing out now.

She concentrated on the look in his eyes instead - a strange mixture of lust and . . . wonder? Awe? She couldn’t quite name it. But it was intense and unrelenting, just like the motion of his hips, slowly but insistently shoving his dick more deeply inside her with the rhythmic precision of a metronome.

He felt nearly mad with desire as he looked up into the startled face she made with every one of his gentle thrusts. He was hurting her, he knew, but she was stoic. He could see her grim determination to literally ride this out to its conclusion. But there was something else in her eyes that did the opposite of dampening his enthusiasm. Her dark gaze held the promise of something much more than mere endurance of his member drilling its way inside her. She had wanted to get rid of her virginity for a specific reason, and he nearly laughed at how simple and obvious that reason should have been to him.

Bella Swan loved sex.

Maybe not now, at this particular moment, while her body struggled to make the necessary adjustments in order for her to enjoy it. But she had watched videos of it, and fantasized about it, and agonized over not having it because she was dying to experience it for herself.

Bella was a girl riddled with deep passions seeking the proper outlet. She had fought them over and over tonight, attacking him with fervor before she remembered to be nervous or ashamed of her desires. He knew that she would be seized by those desires again, after the nuisance of inexperience came to an end. As he carefully invaded her body by inches, he could clearly foresee the day when she would be able to easily let him in and ride him with wild abandon, not stopping until they were both fulfilled.

He closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the vision. He groaned and thrust upward one last time, forgetting to be careful and driving himself inside her to the hilt. Their skin made a soft smacking noise at the point of impact.

She cried out sharply, and his eyes flew open. “Are you okay?” he asked anxiously, releasing her backside to cradle her head and stroke her hair.

She nodded, afraid that opening her mouth would let a whimper escape. She felt impaled. Her entire groin radiated with a dull, throbbing ache. She couldn’t quite call it pain, though. It simply felt . . . alien. Or at the very least, highly uncomfortable. His cock felt as big as the monoliths she’d compared it to earlier, her body stretched and conformed around it like a glob of Play-Dough stuck over a bed post.

She concentrated on slowing her breathing and relaxing, just like he had instructed her to do earlier. She just needed to get used to the sensation - the overfull feeling and pressure of something embedded so deeply inside her. But as she looked down into Edward’s beautiful face, staring up at her with an emotion she couldn’t identify, she’d never been more sure that she had chosen the right man to let in.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” His whispered question was rhetorical. He knew that he was enjoying this far more than she was. She was so tight that he almost felt uncomfortable himself, his cock strangled in the grip of her rigid walls. Yet she was so warm and wet, so utterly ready for this . . . even if she hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

He tried to remember the last time he’d experienced being inside a woman without a condom separating them. He wasn’t sure he ever had. He usually enforced an ironclad policy of safe sex, armed with a battalion of prophylactics and medical documents. Bella had infected him with her recklessness once more, but at least he was sure that was the only thing he’d catch from her.

Still, he could let this go no further without procuring one of the latex shields he’d already deposited in the nightstand at the head of the bed. Her safety was paramount to him, and he’d already taken too big a risk by letting nature run its course.

“Let’s pull the bed covers down and do this right, shall we?” he suggested, running his hands lightly down her back. He shifted his hips downward, slowly pulling out of her. She sighed in relief as he exited her body.

He rolled her gently off of him and sat up, kissing her several times before he stood and made his way around the bed. She watched him, somewhat dazed, as he turned the silk comforter and expensive sheets down, then removed the pillows from their shams. He came back to the foot of the bed and took her hands in his, pulling her to her feet.

“You take good care of me,” she said, her eyes strangely grateful as she gazed up at him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he responded. Why wouldn’t any man? She was worth caring for. He wondered at the guys she’d tried to be with before him - why they couldn’t see how special she was. He’d spent time with more females than he could count, but he could list on one hand the number who had made a lasting impression on him.

She had no answer. He’d rendered her dumbstruck once more with his matter-of-fact assertion of her worth.

His hands still enveloping hers, he led her around to the head of the bed, then kissed her. He let go of her hands only to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. He was sweet and romantic, yet insistent and commanding, a combination she had no hope of resisting.

They were soon a tangle of limbs again under the sheets, their bodies reunited in one mutual desire. She succumbed easily to gentle hands roaming, wet lips teasing, hot skin pressing. He was everywhere at once, it seemed, and she was delirious from the possession. She found herself flattened beneath him once more, spread open and waiting. Wanting. She was ready to let him penetrate her again; ready for him to make her feel his desire, deep inside.

He moaned softly at the feel of her pushing against him, lifting her hips to meet his. It would be better this time, he knew. He leaned toward the edge of the bed, opening the nightstand drawer and grabbing a foil wrapper from within. She observed while he deftly ripped the packet open and withdrew the ring of latex. He positioned it at the tip of his erection, then rolled it down with a few sure, swift movements. He had sheathed himself one-handedly in less than thirty seconds. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to turn off the part of her brain that wondered how many times he’d done this, and with how many other women, in order to gain such impressive dexterity in handling condoms.

He mistook her slight grimace for trepidation. “Relax, Bella. It’ll be better now that you know what to expect.” He planted several soft kisses on her pink cheeks as he sidled between her thighs. “I’m going to make this good for you,” he said, determined to follow through on that promise.

She nodded her consent and her confidence. “I know you will.”

He reached between her legs and stroked the sensitive flesh there, massaging her until she moaned at the sensation. Her sounds encouraged him, and he positioned himself to enter her once more. He continued to stimulate her with his fingers, spreading her moisture as he worked. Then he grasped his cock and guided it up and down her pussy, wetting it with every stroke.

Her eyes closed, this time in pleasure, and another moan escaped her. He couldn’t wait any longer. He slipped the head inside her pink and ready opening, then continued pushing even after he met resistance. She cried out softly, so he withdrew slightly before pushing once more. He lifted himself slightly so he could reach between their bodies and massage her clitoris, enhancing her pleasure to counter the discomfort of his thrusts.

He worked this way until he was all the way in, rocking gently inside her until she joined his rhythm.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he asked hopefully, fairly sure of her response.

She nodded before gasping a quick “Yes,” and gripping his neck and shoulders more tightly. She still felt impaled, filled to the point of bursting, but the pain of stretching to accommodate him had begun to ebb. It was nearly forgotten when he slid his hand between them and stroked her again, giving her waves of tingling ecstasy that all but erased the ache.

She almost didn’t notice him picking up his pace, slowly thrusting and pulling back, then thrusting again. Her own body was rising to meet each of his movements, matching them, inviting them. It seemed to know what it was doing. She tried to shut off her brain entirely and allow her body to ride the waves of sensation, good gradually outweighing bad, as they mounted and swirled within her.

“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” Edward rasped, interrupting her self-absorbed concentration. She looked up into dark, fevered eyes under lids heavy with lust; cherry red lips, parted and panting; smooth skin and rough stubble beaded with perspiration. She was shocked at his beauty once more, now painted in a picture of sensuality that was stunning to behold. She reached up to touch him, to finger the droplets of sweat and trace those delectable lips.

He slowed his pace, trying to read her; waiting for her response. When she realized what he required, she said simply, “Don’t stop.”

Her whispered words sounded like a prayer to him. He couldn’t have stopped anyway, but he needed to know that she wanted the same thing. Her face was etched with an intensity that he hoped was more pleasure than pain as he pumped in and out of her with increasing speed. She was perfection. He felt like he was molding her flesh to fit him and only him; leaving the indelible impression of his cock within her, branding her as his.

He knew these mad thoughts of ownership were not only sexist but utterly futile. Thankfully his hormones had dispatched his intellect with swift and total authority for the time being. Now was about only flesh and bone merging, taking and giving. He could not hope to match what Bella was giving him right now, but he had to try.

He reached down and rapidly fondled her clit once more, trying to pleasure her as well as himself. She moaned her approval and her hands gripped his hair more tightly, urging him on. Maybe he could make her come. Maybe it wouldn’t be impossible.

But he knew it would soon be impossible for him to hold back. She was too snug a fit; the friction between them was too intense. He wanted to come. He wanted to come right now. It was all he could do to stop it. He thought of baseball statistics, mortgage payments, world famine. Anything but the beautiful girl lying beneath him, raising her hips to take every inch of his cock, again and again and again.

“Fuck,” he growled in frustration. He removed his hand from her, placing it on the mattress to give himself leverage. He ground into her helplessly, hoping that the rhythmic slap of his groin against hers would be enough to stimulate her. She gasped and whimpered with every thrust, which only spurred him on. He couldn’t stop now. He wouldn’t stop fucking her until he came.

Bella was overwhelmed. She didn’t know what she felt anymore. The line between pleasure and pain had been obliterated by Edward’s ceaseless movements; the line between her body and his was now blurred beyond recognition. Her insides churned and burned with an uneasy fire, stoked by the ramming cock that repeatedly shook her. She could feel the possibility of an orgasm building; the beginning of a pyre that might grow if she could dampen that last twinge of pain and fan the flames of growing pleasure.

She let go of his damp hair and slid her hands south, over his perfect round ass. She gripped his cheeks firmly in her hands, guiding him into her, though he needed no help in that regard. He groaned loudly at the feel of her fingers clutching him, then pounded into her with quick, desperate strokes.

“Oh, baby, I can’t . . .” he began, his voice breaking. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Then don’t,” she ordered.

“But I want you to . . .”

“Don’t worry about me. I want you to come. I want to feel you come inside me.”

That was the truth. She had never expected to orgasm during her first time. She didn’t need to. She knew that she would one day, and that reassurance was more than enough for her.

“Bella,” he said, his tone laced with regret.

She was the one who looked at him in wonder now. He would never know how deeply it touched her that he was trying so hard to be perfect for her, instead of giving in to his own needs. She wanted him to let himself feel that release. To find ecstasy inside her.

“Edward," she whispered. "Let go."

And with a shuddering gasp, he obeyed.

Chapter 9

In the kitchen, Edward yanked the nearest bottle of red out of the hotel’s wine rack, not caring what brand or varietal it was. He tore at the foil top and crushed the wine opener into the bottle’s cork, giving it several vicious twists.

Fuck. Why did she have to go there? Why couldn’t she be self-centered enough to just blather about herself after sex, like most women? Why did she feel so compelled to get to know him?

The cork made a satisfyingly loud pop when he wrenched it from its tight bottleneck. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It wasn’t her fault. She was just trying to make conversation, and he was the one who started that ball rolling by asking about her college major. He was also the idiot who brought up Twenty Questions to begin with, although it had been a joke. One Bella didn’t get, apparently.

She didn’t get a lot of things about this whole situation, it seemed. Like the fact that there was no point in her getting to know him. There was nothing to know, and no reason to know it. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter if they liked each other or not, because there was nowhere for this to go.

And that, right there, was the problem. They did like each other. He understood why she wanted to know him better - for the same reason he wanted to know her. To get closer. To share. To experience. To feel.

He couldn’t afford to feel anything for her. To like her. But it was too late. He knew he’d never be able to do anything less.

He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling; he didn’t know why. What was he doing - appealing to a higher power? There was no God who would smile benevolently down on him and tell him that any part of this situation was okay. Or would He, knowing where the money was going? Maybe . . .

No, there was no point in prayer, or optimism. And no point in encouraging Bella to forge some kind of connection with him that he could never uphold.

But he had to make tonight okay for her. Better than okay. He had to do this for her, for one night. Make it special. Make it mean something, at least for now.

Now. It was all they had. He would concentrate on that.

His head was heavy with guilt as he walked slowly back to the living room, wine bottle and glass in hand, and approached the couch. Bella sat clutching her empty glass, staring up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Here,” he offered softly, refilling her goblet as she held it out to him.

“Edward, I’m so sorry,” she blurted before he even had a chance to sit down. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I definitely didn’t mean to interrogate you - “

“Bella, stop,” he interrupted her before she could debase herself further. “I’m the jerk here. I had no right to overreact and treat you like that. I’m sorry.” He set the bottle on the coffee table and joined her back on the couch.

“Look,” she began, her eyes earnest. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It’s none of my business why you do this for a living, or what happened that made you choose this. I’m not stupid - I know this can’t be what you planned for yourself or your life. But I absolutely believe that you can do anything you set your mind to, just like you told me I can. Don’t give up on that. Or yourself.”

He couldn’t hold her gaze when she threw his words back at him, and his eyes shifted, out the window and to the city lights twinkling in the distance. He felt her hand on his, but he still looked away. She made it worse when she quoted him again.

“Why don’t you listen to your own advice? Why don’t you see how special you are right now? Where you are . . . who you are?” He felt her fingers stroke the back of his hand, then try to work their way between his. He heard her sigh before she spoke again.

“Maybe this is the last place you want to be right now. But I’m selfish enough to admit that I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad for every shitty decision you or I ever made that led us here right now. Because I’m glad I met you. No matter what happens the rest of this night, I won’t regret that.”

She had his full attention then. His eyes darted back to her face; his fingers slipped through hers and held on. It was as if his world suddenly shifted on its axis - abruptly righted itself just when he thought it was hopelessly off track.

“I won’t regret it, either,” he whispered. He could never regret her, of that he was sure. And maybe that was enough. It would have to be.

He watched the candlelight dance in her eyes, beckoning him. He took the wine glass from her and set it with his on the coffee table, then leaned in to kiss her. He kept his eyes open as long as he could, watching her watching him. He wanted to stop thinking now. Give in to feeling . . . just for tonight. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

His kiss was different this time - unguarded, willing. Hungry, even. She had pulled him back from the dark place where she’d inadvertently sent him. She wished he could have been more open with her, but why should he? Surely he didn’t cry on the shoulder of every woman who hired him. That was probably the last thing he ever wanted to do.

She suddenly thought back to the harsh words she’d spoken to him and she cringed, pulling away from him slightly.

“What is it?” he whispered, his concern evident.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you at dinner. That you like being used.” She shook her head in regret. “I think you hate it. I wish I knew why you thought you had no other choice.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Bella, please.” He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. I just got done telling you I wouldn’t push you and then I did it again.” She reached up to stroke his face; pull him back to her. “It’s just that . . . I don’t want to be someone who uses you.”

He searched her eyes for her meaning. “What are you saying? Are you backing out after all?”

“No. I don’t want to,” she replied. “But I hope that I’m not one of the people who makes you feel used. I think you’re worth more than that, even if you don’t. I’m just saying . . .” she faltered and her eyes fell while she searched for the words. “This feels different to me, somehow.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “I like you. You’re not just some guy I paid to fuck me anymore.”

His grin was wry. How could she be so blunt, yet so blind, at the same time?

That’s exactly what I am, Bella, he wanted to say. No matter how she tried to twist it or sugar-coat it or deny it, it was the truth.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” was what he did say. “Because you’re not just another customer that I’m going to forget about in the morning.” He was terrified that this was also the truth.

Her grin was far too pleased; her cheeks too pink with satisfaction. He wanted to remind her how idiotic it was to create any pipe dreams about what was going on between them. But this was her night, her fantasy. Her first time. And if she wanted to pretend that there could be something more between them after this was over, then he would go along with it.

“So, if you’re not backing out, then I need to ask you something.”

Her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to continue.

“I need to know if you want to spend the night here. With me,” he added, as if that part was somehow in question.

“Well . . . yeah,” she replied slowly, suddenly wondering if that was okay. She had assumed an overnight stay in this palatial suite was part of the deal, but maybe she had failed to read the fine print in their agreement. Maybe one of them was contractually obligated to turn into a pumpkin at midnight.

He smiled immediately, putting her fears to rest. “I was hoping you would. But that means we need to give Emmett a call.”

Anxiety seized her as she stared up at him. Flashes of kinky three-ways flitted across her mind.

She tried to keep her voice steady as she asked, “Who’s Emmett?”

“The Enforcer. The guy downstairs who will break my kneecaps if he doesn’t see you smiling when you eventually exit the building.”

“Oh.” She hoped her relief wasn’t too obvious. She had forgotten all about him, poor guy. What a boring job, sitting in a hotel bar, babysitting all of Renaissance Escort’s first-time customers.

“It’s weird, the way your agency operates,” she commented. “It’s like the mob or something.”

“’Just when I think I’m out, they pull me back in,’” Edward aped the famous Michael Corleone line in a bad accent. He laughed outwardly, but inwardly, he worried that it could come true. No, he reminded himself. This line of work was temporary, despite what he had just told Bella moments ago. A few more years ought to do it. Then he could . . .

Could do what, exactly? That’s what scared the hell out of him. By then, the original plans he’d had for his life would probably be impossible to follow. That’s why it had stung so badly when she brought it up. She had no way of knowing just what a sore subject it was. But he was pretty sure he’d done a bang-up job of letting her know that it was off-limits.

“Checking in with Emmett is just a precaution,” Edward reminded her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead before rising from the couch. “So you know you’re safe with me.”

“I never doubted it,” she replied.

He smiled and gave his head a shake, then disappeared, presumably in search of his phone. She grabbed her wine glass off the coffee table and took a few more gulps. She liked the warm, fuzzy feeling it gave her, and she didn’t want it to wear off. She had the suspicion she would need it when it came time for the Big Deflowering. Surely it wouldn’t be too bad, would it? She was only a technical virgin now, anyway. Edward had already thoroughly invaded her with other parts of his body. A delicious shiver ran through her at the memory. The actual intercourse would be a mere formality now, right? The only difference would be that Edward would be using his penis this time.

That big, thick, long, penis.

“Okay, he’s on his way up to check on you,” the owner of the penis interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Edward set his phone on the coffee table and reach for his own glass of wine.

“The Enforcer is coming up here?” she exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. She set her glass back down before she spilled wine everywhere. She really didn’t want the big lug from downstairs to see her like this, disheveled and naked under a hotel bathrobe. It was one thing for him to know what was going on up here, but quite another for him to see it in person.

Edward was surprised at her reaction. He wondered why she was so nervous. “He needs to see for himself that you’re fine, and hear you tell him that it’s your decision to stay here. It’s proof that I’m not holding you here against your will,” he explained. She really hadn’t read through the agreement at all, had she? Did she have no regard at all for her personal safety? She was far too trusting.

He was still frowning at her carelessness when she excused herself to use the bathroom. She hadn’t come out yet when Emmett’s knock sounded across the room, so he went to answer it.

“Hey,” he said casually as he opened the door.

“Hey, brother.” Emmett greeted his favorite co-worker with the usual nickname. “How goes it?” He glanced at Edward’s attire and added, “As if I need to ask.”

“Business as usual,” Edward answered with a smile.

“Nice. Didn’t take you long.”

“I’m only halfway there, actually.”

“Ah, well, the night is young.”

Emmett glanced over Edward’s shoulder at the tiny female figure approaching, and his amiable expression immediately morphed into an imposing mask of severity.

“Miss Swan. How are you this evening?” he addressed her formally.

Bella looked up at him uncertainly. “I’m great, uh . . . Emmett.” She glanced at Edward for approval at using The Enforcer’s first name.

Edward tried to stifle his grin of amusement, not just at her words, but her appearance. She had brushed her hair and freshened her lipstick, from what he could see. Her bathrobe was overlapped high around her neck and tied tightly at the waist, giving her the appearance of a terry-cloth mummy.

“It’s my understanding that you wish to spend the evening here in the hotel, with Mister Cullen. Is that correct?”

Bella blushed hotly at Emmett’s question, then managed a nod.

“You’re absolutely sure? If not, I’d be happy to escort you to the parking lot right now.” He regarded her so seriously that she wondered for a split second if there was something horrible he knew about Edward that she didn’t.

“Ye-ah, I’m sure,” she answered slowly.

He gave her a short nod. “Very well. You have my number in case you change your mind.”

I do? she thought. Damn, why hadn’t she brought a copy of the agreement with her? Evidently she’d missed a whole mess of stuff in the fine print.

“You aren’t stuck here waiting downstairs all night, are you?” she blurted, mortified at the thought.

Emmett gave her a tiny smile. “No, Miss Swan. I’ll be leaving. But I can be back here in a flash if you need me.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, relieved. “I mean, I’m sure I won’t. I trust Edward completely.” She wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to get in trouble with his employer.

Emmett raised one eyebrow slightly, and Bella was sure she saw a twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes. She wondered again, should she be worried about Edward? He’d given her no reason to be afraid of him so far.

“He’s the epitome of trustworthiness,” Emmett assured her. “We make sure all of our escorts are. I’m glad he meets your expectations, Miss Swan.” Yes, there was definitely a twinkle.

“Is that all?” Edward asked him, an edge of annoyance in his tone.

Emmett deferred to Bella, giving her a questioning look. She nodded affirmatively.

He nodded his own head, almost a bow, and backed out the door.

“I’ll be right back. I’d like a word with him,” Edward told Bella, then followed Emmett out into the hall.

“Ni-i-ice!” The Enforcer drawled, giving the Escort a light punch on the arm. “She’s a cutie. Bet you wish they were all like her.”

“That would make my job much easier,” Edward conceded.

“Damn. Girls like that almost make me miss my own escort days,” Emmett said wistfully.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Rosalie would have your hide.”

Emmett chuckled. “She does have a possessive streak, doesn’t he?” he said fondly.

“You think? You didn’t even last a year before she promoted you to knee-capper. You realize she made up that position for you, right? She couldn’t stand the idea of you sleeping with anyone but her.”

Emmett shrugged good-naturedly. “Hey, somebody’s got to keep all you lotharios in line. God knows what kind of kinky fuckery you’d be up to if you didn’t have to answer to me.”

Edward’s eyes rolled. “Listen, I’m turning my phone off until tomorrow. So if anything crazy comes up, run interference for me, will you? I mean, I don’t expect anything, but you never know. I’ve got Katrina and Stephanie booked back-to-back tomorrow, so if one of them calls to change their plans, I might have to get creative.”

“Will do. I’ll check your emails and forward anything that’s urgent. So this one must be special, huh?” Emmett nodded his head toward the hotel door.

Edward nodded quietly. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it out loud.

Emmett’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Eddie-boy. Don’t start over-thinking things.”

Edward cringed at the nickname, and the advice. Thinking wasn’t the issue. His brain knew exactly what was going on.

It was the rest of him that was going to be a problem.

Chapter 8

She took a moment to remove Edward’s socks and shoes, and to throw his pants over her discarded dress on the end of the sofa. He stared down at her with a dazed expression while she rendered him as naked as she was.

Her lips curved into a grin as she returned to kiss the tender skin at the crux of his thighs and torso. She worked her way up the ‘V’ of his belly, tracing the indentation of flesh on one side of him, then the other. When she planted kisses over his abdomen, he sighed contentedly and massaged her scalp.

Encouraged, she kissed her way up his stomach and chest, rising to her feet. She placed one knee next to his hip on the couch, then the other knee on his opposite side, until she was straddling his body with her own. Eye-to-eye now, she met his groggy gaze with her anxious one.

“Was I okay?” she asked, biting her lip.

He almost snorted in disbelief, but managed to keep it to an exasperated chuckle instead. “’Okay’ is not the word I would use to describe what you just did to me,” he told her. His fingers continued their reassuring massage under her hair. “’Amazing’ or ‘incredible’ might come a little closer. How am I supposed to believe you’ve never done that before?” he demanded, suspicion seeping into his tone.

“I swear I haven’t,” she promised. “I might have watched a video or two to get some pointers,” she admitted somewhat sheepishly.

“Hmm.” His hands drifted down to her neck, stroking her gently. His brain cells were slowly coming back to life now that the blood had coursed back through them again. “Seems like you’ve been doing your sex homework, preparing for the big moment.”

“I guess so.” Her cheeks reddened again, and it made him crazy. How could she still be bashful after what she’d just done to him? But he liked it. He liked it far too much. It made him want to end her virginity in some ludicrously epic way, on a bed of rose petals while violins played, culminating in a bed-shaking orgasm the likes of which Bella would remember for the rest of her life.

He knew it would be nothing like that. More likely, he’d be lucky if she didn’t cry in pain through the whole ordeal.

He sighed and leaned in to kiss her, tasting the bitter remnants of his release on her lips. He winced slightly and kissed her again. Why did he feel like he was tainting her? Ruining her, somehow? Changing her irrevocably, for the worse, he feared.

“You are amazing,” he reiterated, sliding his hands down to cradle her narrow back and pull her closer. “Don’t change. Promise me.”

She frowned and stared into his eyes, trying to understand what he was asking of her. “I can’t promise that. Everyone changes. Every day. That’s what life is.”

He sighed again and stroked her face. He memorized her sweet brown eyes, the way they questioned him. Naïve, despite her words. He kissed the ivory silk of her face, over and over, every inch. Forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin, lips. He knew he would leave no part of her untouched tonight; he couldn’t stop himself from completing her thorough violation. Couldn’t stop the maddening desire to leave his mark on her - in her.

He didn’t quite realize he was only trying to equal the indelible impression she’d already left on him.

They sat entwined on the sofa as twilight deepened to night. The sun’s red hues had retreated, allowing a cool blue to envelop the room. Bella shivered slightly as Edward’s hands strayed down her back, and he knew it was time for them to move.

“Let me get you a bathrobe,” he whispered at last, reluctantly lifting her off of him and depositing her in the corner of the couch. He gave her a gentle kiss and disappeared to what she assumed was the bedroom. She pulled the nearest pillow over her nakedness and hugged it close, feeling the warmth of Edward’s body lingering in its satin cover. She had felt like she was wrapped in a soothing cocoon with his arms around her, his solid thighs beneath her. She loved the feel of him next to her. She had never dreamed the closeness of a man could feel so good, so inviting instead of threatening.

He returned quickly, holding out a hotel-issued robe of thick terry cloth while she stood long enough to put her arms into its sleeves. Edward was already snugly encased in a robe of his own, and he looked adorable, his hair mussed into chaos above the cozy fabric. She grinned stupidly up at him as he pulled her own robe close around her body and wrapped its tie into a secure knot.

“Better?” he asked when he was through. “You’re not cold, are you?”

She shook her head wordlessly. She didn’t know how to explain just how warm he made her.

“I’m going to light a few candles and brighten it up in here,” he said, kissing her forehead before wandering off to the kitchen. He reappeared with the wine and a box of matches. He began lighting the decorative candles scattered throughout the room, and when he was satisfied with the result, he refilled their wine glasses and returned to the couch.

“Do you want to hang your dress up?” he asked, nodding his head toward the pile of their discarded clothes taking up residence on the far side of the couch.

“No, it’s fine.” She liked the fact that her dress was sandwiched between the pieces of Edward’s suit.

He shrugged and handed her a glass of cabernet, then sat close to her, his body turned toward hers. She curled her feet up under her and touched her glass to his. They both said “cheers” and took a sip.

She fought the urge to giggle at how odd it felt to be acting like such a grown-up, the way adults acted in movies. But wasn’t that what she had wanted so badly? To get away from the chronic disappointment of wild parties with drunken, obnoxious boys?

She thought back with a shudder to the last big summer bash near her hometown of Forks, a mere two weeks ago. She’d never been so angry and humiliated in her life. Where did Jake get off, turning their private moment into a public spectacle? And a spectacle was exactly what she felt like after she’d returned to the bonfire, only to be greeted with whispers and snickers behind her back. Jake had made her a laughing stock.

But with Edward sitting next to her in this beautiful hotel room, pouring her glasses of what was probably outrageously expensive wine, she felt like she was getting the last laugh.

“You okay?” he asked, observing the perturbed look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m great,” she insisted at once, painting on a smile.

He saw through it. “You want to tell me what you were thinking?”

She was beginning to see that she couldn’t get much past him. “It’s not important.” She shrugged and took a sip of wine.

“Why don’t I believe that?” He looked into her eyes; they were guarded. “Tell me,” he coaxed.

She considered for a moment, then decided to trust him. “I’m just thinking how different you are from the guys I’ve known.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Good. Very good.” Both of their smiles grew.

“It’s true - not every guy is as well-endowed as I am,” he joked with a cocky smirk of his own.

She giggled and blushed again, which was what he was after.

“That’s not what I was talking about, although there is a grain of truth to that.” His eyebrow raised, but he let her continue. “I mean the way you treat me, like a lady. Even after . . . everything we just did.”

He scowled at her words. “Why wouldn’t I treat you like a lady? Enjoying great sex doesn’t make you anything less. Don’t let some jackass tell you otherwise. Any guy with a virgin/whore complex isn’t worth your time.”

“Thanks,” she said, heat flooding her cheeks once more. “But it’s not that. It’s more the opposite. You know . . . guys pressuring me to give in, and then making fun of me or getting pissed off when I couldn’t follow through.”

Edward’s frown deepened. “Who are these assholes you’ve been going out with?” he demanded.

“They’re boys, Edward,” she said, as if stating the obvious. “They just want what all boys want, and they usually don’t care much about how they get it.”

He shook his head sadly. “Some guys care,” he said. “And some want more than to just use a girl for sex. Keep looking until you find one worthy of you. Don’t settle, Bella.” He reached out and took her chin in his hand, stroking it gently with his thumb. “You don’t need to settle.”

She stared at him, wondering what planet he came from. Wondering if there was some kind of escort handbook to tell him the right things to say to a girl in any given situation.

“That’s why I chose you,” she said softly.

It was his turn to stare. How did she do that? Grab his heart in her fist so effortlessly, then squeeze until it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

He slid his hand up the side of her face, stroking one perfect rose-colored cheek. He had no more words, and was certain he couldn’t choke them out if he did. So he chose the wordless language of a kiss, hoping it could adequately express his gratitude. He couldn’t understand why she refused to see that choosing him was the epitome of settling. Why she would consider him the sole recipient worthy of her virginity, when they both knew he was nothing but a paid . . .

Whore.

The word reverberated in his head. He pulled back from Bella and let his hand drop from her face. He brought his other hand, the one with the wine glass, up to his mouth to take a hefty swig.

“Okay, your turn,” she announced. He glanced at her shrewd, knowing eyes.

He played dumb. “For what?”

“To tell me what you’re thinking.”

He tried to fob off his grin as nonchalant. “What, are we going to play Twenty Questions now?”

“That’s an excellent idea, actually,” she exclaimed, her eyes brightening in the candlelight. “I’ll go first. Why did you pull away from me just now?”

What the hell? How had he managed to get himself into this?

He hedged a bit and then said, “Because I think you have an unrealistic view of me.”

“How so?”

“That’s two,” he warned her. “Two questions. And the answer is, you seem to think I’m more worthy of being with you tonight than the guys who came before me. And I’m not. Probably less so.”

Her brows squeezed together, forming a tiny line on the bridge of her nose. He found it disconcertingly adorable.

“I disagree,” she said bluntly. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because it’s my choice to make. I chose you, and now I know why.”

Her candor was driving him crazy. His lip twitched slightly before he gave in to her challenge. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

“That’s your second question. I’m counting the first one, that started all this.” Before he could protest, she continued, “Every word you say proves to me why you’re the perfect choice, and you don’t even know you’re doing it. Which is really pretty cute, considering how much older and more experienced you are.”

“I’m not that much older,” he grumbled.

“How old are you? Did you lie on your Renaissance profile?”

“I didn’t lie at the time. But I haven’t updated it since I joined the agency two years ago,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “I just turned twenty-four a couple of months ago. And that was two more questions, by the way.”

“What?” she exclaimed indignantly. “That was not. The second was merely an extension of the first. Like a sub-question.”

“Nice try, but no. That was two questions,” he insisted. “So, are you really nineteen?”

“Yes,” she said, still pouting. “But I’ll be twenty in a few weeks. Which is one of the reasons I did this.” She gestured to the room, to him. “I don’t want to be a twenty-year-old virgin.”

He couldn’t hold back his laughter this time. “You make it sound like you’re one step away from having a comedy filmed about you at your expense.”

“It’s a slippery slope,” she insisted crossly. “One day you’re so nervous about sex that you push every guy away at the last minute, and the next, you’re filing for single-status Social Security so you can continue to feed your half-dozen pet cats.”

She ignored Edward’s second outburst of laughter and continued. “Maybe that sounds crazy, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of being in my twenties and still being a virgin. I mean, I’m finally leaving my teen-aged years behind, and I want to leave all the stupid insecurities and fears and awkwardness behind with them. I want my twenties to be different. I want to be different.” Her expression was determined, almost defiant. “I amgoing to change, Edward. Whether you like it or not.”

His chortles subsided quickly; he studied her soberly now. She meant what she said. Her teenaged years obviously hadn’t been kind, but whose had?

“I know you’re going to change," he said. "I just don’t want you to hurry it along. It’s going to happen faster than you know anyway. Trust me.”

She gave him that typical teenaged look of uncomprehending impatience.

“I wish you could see how special you are right now, where you are. Who you are. That’s all,” he added quietly.

Her eyes watered with emotion, and then she abruptly grinned. “You just did it again.”

He looked confused for a moment, then smiled as he caught her meaning. “Well, I don’t want you to suffer buyer’s remorse after this is all over.”

She frowned. She didn’t like thinking about her time with him coming to an end.

He misunderstood her expression. “But if you’re having second thoughts, don’t hesitate to tell me. I mean that.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. “Not at all. Not even a little.”

He shook his head and wondered where her common sense was. She had no right, no reason, to be so sure about him. But he knew he would do his best not to let her down. Maybe that’s what she sensed about him that made all of this okay for her. He guessed that it was more guarantee than she’d received from any of the guys in her life before him.

“So, when’s your birthday?” he asked, reaching back for a lighter topic.

“September thirteenth. When’s yours?”

“June twentieth.” He stopped and did a mental calculation. “That’s five questions for you, four for me. So now I get to catch up.” He puzzled for a moment and then voiced what he’d been wondering all night. “What’s your major in college?”

“English, right now. I think. I like art, too, but I’m not very good at it. And I’m kind of a science geek, so I sometimes think I’d like to be a biologist or chemist. There’s better money in that, but there’s so much math involved . . . not my best subject. But the thing is, what will I do with an English degree? Teach? While I write the next Great American Novel, of course,” she joked.

“I think you can do anything you set your mind to,” he told her. “You still have plenty of time to figure it out.”

“I guess.” She took note of his somber expression but decided to push her luck anyway. “What about you? Did you go to college? The way you play the piano, you must have studied somewhere. Do you have plans to be a musician after . . . I mean, you don’t plan to be an escort forever . . . right?” Her words trailed off as she watched his face stiffen.

“Yes, I went to college. Yes, I have a degree in music theory. No, I have no plans to pursue it now, or after I’m done being this decade’s answer to American Gigolo.” His words were rushed, his tone, clipped. The half-smile he gave her was terse. “Careful, sweetheart, you’re going to use up all your questions at once. You’re up to nine now.”

Edward avoided her stunned expression by draining his glass and reaching for the bottle on the nearby end table. It was empty. “Why don’t you think of more ways to grill me while I go get us more wine?” he suggested, rising abruptly from the couch and disappearing to the kitchen.

Bella stared after him, mildly horrified. She knew she might hit a nerve with that line of questioning, but she still hadn’t been prepared for such an icy response. She gulped the rest of her drink and wondered how to make this right.

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.

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.