Massage Therapy, Chapter 14 - Convergence, part 2

From the Desktop of Bella Swan
Sunday, August 22 (cont’d.)

“Are you actually suggesting that I take nude photos of you?”

Edward’s tone was incredulous; his face, cautiously hopeful. I gnawed my bottom lip a moment, then replied before I lost my nerve.

“I trust you.”

His stared at me a moment, reading me, perhaps deliberating. My pulse picked up its already swift pace as I watched his deliberation shift to decision. The left corner of his mouth twitched a couple of times before curving into a grin.

“You really shouldn’t have said that,” he smirked. Before I could react, he disappeared into the dusk behind me. I heard a drawer open, followed by the sound of rummaging, then the slam of the drawer closing. The sharp sound kick-started my heart again, and I wondered if I could go through with this.

I listened to Edward’s bare feet pad along the hardwood floor and I wondered when he’d removed his shoes and socks. I was dying to kick off my heels as well, but I had the feeling that they were adding to the look that Edward was so eager to capture for all eternity. I didn’t dare call it “sexy.”

Or did I? I peered into the darkness and watched his shape materialize in the moonlight as he returned to where he had been standing. When his eyes met mine again, there was something visceral in their depths that made me quiver in my already precarious platform shoes. I never imagined that it could feel this achingly good, down in the marrow of my bones, to be so blatantly ogled by a man. Yet his bedroom eyes didn’t feel lewd as they swept over me; the digital camera in his hand didn’t seem exploitive. Edward always made me feel like much more than an object of lust. Maybe that’s why I was okay with him taking pictures of me like this.

He raised one eyebrow at me and narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure about this?” His voice was a velvet glove reaching out to caress and sooth me.

My fingers gripped the bricks next to me and I began to lean on my arm to support me, shifting my weight to the other leg. I took another deep breath and nodded.

“God, that’s perfect,” he murmured of my new position against the wall. “Don’t move.”

He seemed to have trouble prying his eyes from me long enough to adjust the settings on the camera. He mumbled something about not using the flash and needing a tripod, but that he’d try to get a shot that wasn’t blurry. I silently hoped that the pictures would be so blurry that it would be impossible to make out my rigid nipples and hairless snatch under its sheath of sheer lace.

Edward held the camera up, looking at me on the display screen. I felt my body stiffen from head to toe. He frowned a little and raised his eyes to mine.

“Bella,” he said softly, his face softening. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just me.”

Just me. Just the guy who had turned my world upside down in five short weeks. The guy who had healed ancient wounds and opened new ones, unlocked desires I never knew I had, and touched my soul like no one I’d ever encountered in my twenty-three short years. Just me. As if he were no one special to get nervous or excited about.

Yet I felt myself grow calm under the spell of that velvet voice and hypnotic gaze. My eyes were still locked with his in welcome resignation when I heard the click of the shutter. I blinked and jumped a little, and Edward smiled. He hadn’t even glanced at the camera, apparently taking the chance that I was still in the frame when he pressed the button.

“Sneaky,” I accused with a shaky laugh.

His eyes crinkled with mirth for a moment, then smoothed quickly as he looked at the picture he’d just taken on the viewing screen of the camera. His face was serious now, and I wished I could see his eyes so I would know what he was thinking.

He began to walk toward me, still staring at the small LCD screen. He finally looked up when he was next to me. His expression was indescribable. I wanted to call it “love.”

“Here, look at this,” he instructed, handing me the camera. “Maybe now you’ll see what I see when I look at you.”

I took the camera in my unsteady hand and brought it close to my face. I stared at the image of a slender girl whose naked body formed a stark, ivory column against its backdrop of deep indigo shadow. Her gentle curves were transformed into statuesque arcs of light and shadow by the moonbeams slicing across her body. She looked otherworldly, like a goddess from some strange mythology, or a work of modern art hewn from marble or cast in porcelain. It would have been easy to disconnect myself from this surreal image; to write it off as a flattering trick of the light, were it not for one thing:

The look in my eyes.

The message written in them was as plain as if I’d had the words tattooed on my forehead. Even in miniature, it was easy to see the raw emotion glistening in those dark, vulnerable orbs. They were the eyes of someone hopelessly in love with the object of their gaze. The camera had captured what my words could not.

“Do you see?” Edward said quietly, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair over my bare shoulder. “…how beautiful you are?” His fingers were hot molasses trickling down my arm on the way to retrieving his camera. “You take my breath away.”

He wasn’t looking at the artful digital image when he repeated the words I’d said to him earlier this evening. He was looking at me, in the flesh, and I was the one who couldn’t catch her breath.

“I’m the luckiest bastard in the world,” he said, his gaze dropping again to the viewfinder.

“Why, because I let you take naked pictures of me?” I asked, making a feeble attempt at humor before I came undone completely.

“No. Because of the way you look at me.”

My heart skipped a beat, maybe two. “How do I look at you?”

My heart started up again, an aching throb, as I waited for him to say the words. His lips parted, and then he hesitated. I recognized the story in his eyes, because it was the same one etched indelibly in mine.

“Like I’m actually deserving of someone like you,” he said at last.

Those were not the words I was expecting; not the words I wanted to hear. I shook my head, baffled again at how little he thought of himself. “I’m the lucky one,” I insisted. “You bring out the best in me.”

His faint grin was sardonic. “Do I?” he murmured, reaching his index finger out and running it lightly along my jaw. “I think I bring out something a little… wild in you. I just want you to be sure that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a very good thing,” the wild part of me answered confidently. The rest of me vacillated between being thrilled and scared shitless.

“You think so, huh?” The Sex Voice was getting to me. I could feel it ooze down my spine, infusing every nerve ending with desire. Edward reached for my hair again, his hand so light upon the strands that I could barely discern them. “Sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice as feathery as his touch. His gaze was the opposite, unbearably intense, as he leaned in and asked, “Will you let me take another picture?”

A fresh wave of goose bumps washed from my scalp to my toes. Unable to find my voice, I merely nodded. His smile was gentle, but his eyes were beginning to burn with something much more urgent. His hand dropped from my hair to my arm, and he pulled on it carefully, turning my body toward the window.

“I want you to face the wall,” he said. A decadent thrill zigzagged down my spine at his words, a softly spoken command, but a command nonetheless. He ran his hands down my arms until they reached my fingers. He lifted my hands up and placed them, higher than shoulder-height, on the wall before me. I gasped when he let go of them and glided his hands all the way down the sides of my body until they rested on my hips. My spine arched instinctively, pushing my backside toward him. He rewarded my wanton behavior by gliding his fingers slowly down my hips and over my cheeks, giving them a squeeze that sent a surge of heat between my thighs.

“God damn,” he whistled in a low voice, his hot breath searing my ear. “You didn’t think I could pass up the opportunity to capture that sweet ass of yours, did you?”

I let out a short, shocked laugh at his words; and when he gave my right cheek a playful swat before he walked away, my laugh turned to a tiny hiccup of surprise.

I heard him pad across the floorboards again, presumably back to the same vantage point he had used earlier.

“Turn your head and look at me, Bella,” he said. I had no choice but to obey the Sex Voice. I looked over my shoulder back to where he stood, his eyes glued to my likeness on the LCD screen. I was sure the expression on my face belied my growing desire as I waited, exposed and vulnerable, under the camera’s watchful eye. “Put your weight on your right leg and bend your left.”

I did as he asked, feeling a little silly, but also a little sexy, as I posed for him.

“Now turn your upper body a little more toward me.” As I twisted myself slightly toward the window, I realized he was positioning me so that he could see the profile of my breasts better in the moonlight. The blood began to pulse heavily through my groin at the realization that he was turning me into his personal pin-up girl. The feminist side of me was incensed, but her grunts of protest were drowned out by the pleasurable sighs of my newfound wild side.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?” he said, a statement of disapproval more than a question.

My wild side begged to differ. She arched her back again, turned her face toward Edward and gave him a look that was as seductive as she could muster. She was rewarded with a groan, a couple of choice curse words and the faint click of a camera button being pushed.

“Perfect,” he said, his voice thick.

He took a couple more shots and then returned to me, setting the camera on the window sill next to us. I began to turn to face him but he stopped me with another silken command.

“No, don’t move.” He stood next to me, chest facing the side of my body, one hand closing over mine on the wall. He trailed the fingers of the other slowly down my shoulder, to the crook of my armpit, then down my back, leaving a fresh trail of goose bumps in their wake. When he reached the satin chord of my g-string, he slid his fingers underneath it, letting the backs of them stroke my cheek as he ran his hand under the string and down toward the lace panel.

“Still wet,” he whispered, his fingers closing around the lace and brushing the delicate skin between my legs. A whimper escaped me before I could stop it.

“I think these panties are ruined, don’t you?” he murmured. I looked up at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on my cheeks and his hand between them. I nodded in agreement, though he was scarcely paying attention.

“I think they should go,” he announced. And with a swiftness and strength that astonished me, he yanked the lace triangle away from my body. I heard the rip of the stitches tearing at the same time I felt the fabric snap sharply between my legs. I shrieked in surprise at the pinch of pain, then the deliciousness of being freed, as he tore the panties from my body and tossed them somewhere into the darkness outside our circle of moonlight.

“That’s better,” he sighed, his lips close to my ear. He ran his hand over my cheeks, one at a time, before sliding it between them. My legs spread involuntarily, opening me up to his probing fingers. I moaned softly as they worked their way down to the epicenter of my yearning, stroking the creamy flesh and spreading its moisture in all directions.

I sighed loudly, my head falling sideways toward Edward’s face as his lips claimed my neck. His fingers of his left hand slid between mine as he continued to press my hand to the bricks; the fingers of his right hand pushed straight up into my vagina, first one, then two; possibly more, as he pumped and filled me again and again until my cries of pleasure were as rhythmic as his strokes.

“You are so… ridiculously… fucking…hot ,” he murmured in punctuation to the thrusts of his fingers. His voice shook my spine as his fingers vibrated deep in my belly. “You make me cuss and say the nastiest things to you, when I don’t want to. I can’t help it. You make me crazy.”

“I don’t care,” I gasped. I wished I could touch him but he had me pinned to the wall, holding me like a cello, my other arm useless except to reach back and guide his hand, which was completely unnecessary. “I like you this way. I want you this way.”

“I know you do,” he whispered, blowing more heat into my quivering eardrum. He slowed his pace, then removed his fingers from inside me, stroking me from front to back again. “Have you ever thought about why you like to make me come unglued? Why you like it when I’m unpredictable?”

I felt my brows furrow as I looked up at him. I actually hadn’t give that question much thought. I had dreamed of pushing all his buttons and making him lose his inhibitions with me… but why? Was it only the sex I wanted? Or was there something more?

Edward searched my face; I was sure my sudden uncertainty was evident. I didn’t have the answers. And I certainly wasn’t capable of much coherent thought at the moment.

“You wanted so much to unleash me from my cage, with no thought to the consequences,” he continued. His hand began to roam further now, caressing my thighs, my hips, my back.

“Consequences…?” I questioned weakly.

“Did you think about what would happen afterward? What you would do with me after you set me free?” His fingers slid around my back and over my breast, rubbing the nipple into a taut button.

“I think I did pretty well earlier,” I replied, trying to sound brave even though my head-to-toe quaking threatened to invade my vocal chords. “You seemed quite satisfied.”

“I was much more than satisfied.” I could feel his lips curl into a grin as they brushed my neck. “Maybe you did think about what you would do with me. But did you think about what I would do with you?” He kissed my jaw. “…for you?” He kissed my throat. “…to you?” He kissed my collarbone.

Oh, God. If he had any idea of the dozens of fantasies he’d generated in my hormone-addled mind since the day I met him, he wouldn’t need to ask such questions. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to put any of those hidden desires into words; to confess the myriad ways I had imagined him ravaging my body. I could say nothing now. I could only concentrate on slowing my lungs so that my breaths didn’t sound like desperate panting as his hand continued to explore every inch of skin that it could reach.

“I think you wanted to release me so that I would do the same for you.” His hand snaked around to my belly, stroking the vulnerable flesh and making the sensitive nerves jump in anticipation. His lips pressed to my ear; his face nuzzled me and my head fell back, inviting his kisses down my neck.

“You wanted me to let go of my inhibitions so it would be okay for you to let go of yours,” he continued. His words ignited a fire deep in my belly even more than his fingers had.

There was a nugget of truth there that I had never consciously considered. In my estimation, I had always been an average girl, destined to live an average life. I had dated ordinary guys in high school and had ordinary sex with my ordinary first boyfriend in college. I used to have ridiculously overblown romantic fantasies in my early teens, like most girls do; but after the accident, the fantasies stopped. There was no point in daydreaming about some handsome prince coming to whisk me away from reality. I didn’t deserve such a thing.

But now, here he was anyway. The dream I’d given up on was looking me in the face: a man so outstanding in every way that I could still barely believe he was real. But most astonishing of all, he saw something outstanding in me. Something worth throwing all caution to the wind for. It never occurred to me that when I finally unlocked Edward’s self-imposed prison, it had been the key to unlocking my own.

He was right about all of it. Every time I was with him, I came a little more undone. He had made me bold enough with lust and love to seduce him twice already tonight. Now it was my turn to let him have his way with me.

He was behind me now, his body pressing closer, his hard-on pushing into my hip through his pants. While his left hand continued to hold mine prisoner against the wall, his right slid down my belly and between my thighs, pushing them open, stroking the nerve-filled hood of my clit back to my wet opening. I laid my head against his chest; his breath was heavy and hot on my cheek. I reached down with my free hand and placed it over his, pushing him against me, guiding him inside me, working his hand faster and faster.

“Fuck, Bella,” he growled, pulling his hand away and releasing me. I whimpered slightly in protest until I heard his pants unzip, followed by the blessed sound of them hitting the floor and being kicked impatiently out of the way. I reached behind me for his dick; he grabbed my hand and wrapped it around him, then guided it up and down as I had just done to him. I looked over my shoulder, watching him masturbate with my hand, and my pussy throbbed with envy. As much as I loved the feel of my hand pumping his velvety erection, it was nothing to the sensation of him plunging deep inside me.

I finally put my frustrated desires into words. They blurted out rather unexpectedly, and I wondered if this was what happened to him.

“Fuck me, Edward.”

It sounded harsh, almost guttural; an anguished plea turned into a demand.

He only chuckled as he released my hand. “Oh, I intend to,” came the Sex Voice over my shoulder. “I intend to fuck you very thoroughly, right here against this wall, before I carry you to my bed and fuck you some more.”

I groaned at his words, and the actions that accompanied them. He placed my right hand back against the wall, then ran his hands, silky smooth, down my body again, front and back, until every inch of me was gooseflesh. And then, as I sighed with pleasure, a loud slapping sound met my ears, accompanied by a sharp pain that seared through my right buttock. I gasped with shock at the realization of what Edward had just done.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he whispered over my shoulder, rubbing the offended cheek soothingly with his hand, and then giving it a squeeze. I shook my head in denial, for the sting had been brief. Stranger still, the aftershock of it was rather warm and pleasant.

“I’ve threatened to give you a spanking twice before, and both times you seemed very eager to receive one,” he goaded me, his voice so sweet and melodious that I would have endured much more just to hear it. “You weren’t lying to me, were you, Bella?”

“No, of course--”

Slap!

I let out a tiny shriek this time after he smacked my left buttock, another sharp sensation that resonated throughout my backside before settling into that warm tingle again. He massaged that cheek, too, when he was finished; then his other hand joined in, rubbing and squeezing both buttocks until I was nothing but soaking wet with need in between.

“I don’t think you were lying, either. I think you like how it feels. And I think you like the element of surprise. Spanking--” slap! “--stimulates all those nerve endings in a whole new way. It can be very sensual. A big turn-on.”

I was living proof of that, shivering and drawing shaky breaths as he massaged my tingling ass again. The last blow had been right across both cheeks, low and close to my genitals. The aftershocks burned through my groin, making me want him to fuck me worse than ever before.

“It turns me on, anyway,” he murmured into my other ear. “If you had any idea how sexy your ass looks when I play with it, you’d charge money to let me do it.”

I couldn’t hold back my snort of laughter. “That would make me a hooker.”

Slap!

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend that way,” he ordered.

I wasn’t sure what made me giddier: the wild rush of endorphins caused by the minor assault on my backside, or Edward’s pronouncement that I was his girlfriend. Perhaps it was the strange confluence of these two seemingly incompatible events that sent me over the edge.

Either way, I began giggling in earnest then. Nervous laughter, I thought to myself. I had to release the tornado of sensations whipping through my body somehow.

“You think it’s funny when I smack your ass?” Edward growled in my ear. He circled his arms around me and pulled me flush against him. I groaned at the feel of his hot skin and hard muscle pressed against me. “Or do you find the idea of being my girlfriend laughable?”

I grew serious quickly. “You know that’s not true,” I protested. I dared to remove my hands from the wall to wrap my arms around Edward’s. I wanted as much of us to be touching as possible. I longed to turn around and kiss him, to see and touch his face; but he held me fast against him and rocked me gently in his arms.

“So you’ll let me be your boyfriend, then?” The words were muffled in my hair. I wanted to laugh again because the question was so absurd.

“Let you?” I asked in disbelief. “Like I could refuse you. Like I’d ever want to.”

“Mmm, I like the idea that you can’t refuse me,” he murmured. He continued to sway with me in time to some soundless tune, our bodies pressed tightly into one. “So does that mean that I get to hold you and kiss you and make love to you whenever I want to?”

Yes, please, I wanted to beg. I held out for more. “Of course. As long as I’m in the mood, too,” I teased him. I had trouble imagining an occasion when I wouldn’t be in the mood for Edward.

“I’d never force you, you know that.”

“I know,” I relented. His hands, and mouth, began to roam over me restlessly. Mine did the same, tracing the muscles of his forearms.

“And what if I feel like spanking you and devouring your pussy and fucking the hell out of you until you can’t do anything but scream my name… is that okay?”

He spoke these coarse and vulgar words in the deepest, most dulcet tones imaginable. I couldn’t deny the paroxysm of desire that seized me at the thought of the things he had just suggested. It was definitely okay. Better than okay. In fact, I was hoping that was exactly what he had planned for me in the immediate future.

“You’re awfully quiet, Bella,” he said. His hands began their perusal of my entire frame again, up and down, back and forth, as I moaned wordlessly. “A few minutes ago you told me to fuck you. Is that what you want?”

It was certainly what his dick wanted. Its firm length was pressed right between my cheeks, ready to divide and conquer. I was astounded at how badly I wanted that, too.

“Answer me, Bella,” Edward insisted quietly. I didn’t know how much more I could take of his breath billowing through my ear, straight down the squirming nerves of my spine. “What do you want?”

I reached back to grasp the outline of his shoulders in my hands, my back arching and my ass pushing against his cock. His hands quickly found my breasts; they swelled into his palms as he grasped them firmly.

“I want it all,” I finally whispered hoarsely. “Give me everything you’ve got, Edward. Everything.”

The growl that rumbled deep in his chest made my groin throb pitifully. “Greedy girl,” he said, his voice growing rougher. “I love that about you.”

I love everything about you. Why couldn’t I say the words? Maybe they weren’t necessary, at least not now. Edward made sure that I was incapable of forming coherent speech for the next twenty minutes, at least.

His mouth finally abandoned my neck in favor of my back, working its way down my spine to my tailbone. By the time he was on his knees between my legs, my fingers were clutching the brick wall again, bracing my body for the imminent assault on its senses.

Edward’s hands came down hard on my ass, fingers splaying over the round flesh, thumbs pulling me wide open. I gave up trying to control my moans. They started before I ever felt the intense jolt of electricity from the first touch of his tongue; they only got louder as he licked up and down my clit and probed deep into my wet opening.

“God, I missed the taste of you,” he mumbled between my cheeks before burying his face again. I sobbed and panted as he tongued my anus, then slowly pushed his finger against the tight opening. I remembered how I’d relaxed myself before, and I concentrated on doing that again, wanting to experience that strangely delicious sensation once more.

The pain was brief and less intense this time; the pleasure even greater as he pushed his finger upward, deep inside. I groaned in approval while Edward caressed my buttocks as he pumped his finger slowly, rhythmically into my rectum.

“You like this, don’t you,” he whispered against my left cheek, before sinking his teeth gently into my flesh. His moved his other hand to my clit again, rubbing lightly in time with the movements of his other hand.

“God, yes,” I sighed, arching and pushing my body toward this amazing source of pleasure. I was glad there was no one but Edward to hear me in this silent, open space. My sighs and moans seemed to reverberate around the room, and Edward echoed them, obviously enjoying what he was doing to me.

“That’s good, because I like filling you up,” he replied in a low voice. That’s when his middle finger found its way easily into the moist flesh of my vagina. I gasped and groaned as his fingers worked in tandem, front and back, pushing deeply inside me. When is ring finger joined the middle, I began sobbing in earnest, overwhelmed at how good the pressure felt. When he picked up the pace, thrusting faster, I could feel my wildly pumping blood begin to gather deep in my belly. He was going to make me come already. I could feel it stirring and building.

So could he, because he was relentless then, fucking me rapidly with his fingers. “That is my favorite sound in the world,” he muttered gruffly as the wet friction of his fingers plunging into me grew louder in the quiet air. “Come for me, Bella. I know you’re close.”

He managed to maneuver himself between my legs so that his mouth could find my clit, tonguing me in time with the ministrations of his hand. I thought I might black out as all the blood rushed from my head to my groin, only to be pumped violently through my pussy and back through my body as I came.

I cried out to Edward, God, Jesus and possibly some pagan deities as my body quaked with the intensity of my orgasm. The freedom I felt afterward was almost as good as the euphoria beforehand. Maybe it was the surrender of letting someone else know my body so intimately… the act of literally putting myself in Edward’s hands, and trusting that he would use that power only to help me discover heights of ecstasy--and intimacy--that I never knew I was capable of finding.

“I can’t even tell you how much I love making you come,” Edward sighed into my backside as he gently removed his hands from inside me. He began to massage me instead, running his fingers slowly up my torso and then down my legs, soothing my trembling muscles. His lips were soft on my skin, kissing my hips and buttocks and lower back, over and over.

“I can’t tell you how much I love it, either,” I rasped helplessly, trying to calm myself as I came down a notch from my ridiculous high. “You know just how to do it, too. You’re amazing. You’re….” I gave up trying to find adjectives. His hands were on my ass again, stroking, squeezing, occasionally swatting me gently. He wasn’t going to let me come down. After all, he hadn’t gotten his own satisfaction yet. But I had the feeling he was about to.

He moved his hand between my legs and stroked me again, then smacked the sensitive flesh lightly, rapidly, repeatedly until I groaned anew. He stood then and pressed his body to mine, its heat searing me head to toe. His erection was flush between his belly and the crack of my ass. We both made similar noises of pleasure at the sensation of our bodies brought together again.

“Women have it so good,” he declared, assaulting my ear with his steamy breath. “You can come over and over without any recovery time.” His lips pursed in a kiss on my earlobe. “I’m going to make you come again, Bella.” His tongue traced the thin skin covering the tiny bones of my ear, sending incredibly intense shockwaves through my entire being with little effort.

He moved away from me long enough to reach down and push his rock-hard dick between my legs. I welcomed its hot length against my raw and sensitive flesh, my body again arching and spreading in preparation.

He took me with one long, smooth, yet ruthless stroke this time, making me cry out at the sharp sensation. He felt impossibly deep from this angle, impaling my belly in a way that was so intense it was almost painful. But as he started to move slowly inside me, the intensity began to build to something far from pain.

“How can you feel so fucking good?” Edward sighed into my neck as he continued his relentless thrusting. “You were made for me, Bella. You were made to take my cock.”

I was still astonished at how much is crass language turned me on. My excitement was only heightened when he closed his hands over mine on the wall and then pushed them higher over my head, elongating my entire body as he stretched further inside me with every thrust. The noises I made were unintelligible, animalistic, as I reveled in my body being taken over by his.

“Is your back okay?” he murmured suddenly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

God, how I loved him. Every time I thought I couldn’t love him more, he would say something like this.

“My back is fine. Don’t stop. Take me. Make me yours.” My words were so hoarse, I barely recognized my own voice.

“You are mine,” he grunted, his tone as raw as my own. He released my hands, but I kept them where they were, relishing the vulnerable feeling of being opened to him completely. He grasped my hips to hold them steady as he pumped his cock inside me, gradually escalating from sensual to primal as his pace increased.

“I know you like it when I make love to you,” he said, breathing heavily with exertion. “But you love it when I fuck you. You come when I fuck you.”

I sobbed with pleasure as he impaled me hard and fast then, the unbearable pressure turning into the familiar burn of my next orgasm waiting to happen. He said nothing then, just pounded me senseless, both of us making noises that were nothing but incoherent ecstasy. He was right. I loved it. And I was going to come.

“Oh, baby. That’s it. That’s it. Let me have it.” His frantic commentary pushed me over the edge. How could he know how to play my body so well already, to orchestrate my climaxes so skillfully that he could feel the crescendo swell through me before my release?

I clawed at the wall and cried out loudly as every muscle within me convulsed violently at the impact of my orgasm. My inner walls contracted so hard around his cock that he cried out with me, almost a whimper. I was glad his hands gripped my hips so firmly, because the rest of me sagged in defeat as I gave in to the powerful contractions that shook me.

“Edward… please,” I begged as my body went limp in his hands. He had already brought me to an unfathomable release twice, yet through my fog of ecstasy, I realized that he still hadn’t come. He was still hard inside me, still engorged and unfulfilled.

He wasn’t done with me yet.

I sobbed anew at the realization. I didn’t know how much more I could take. My sex seemed to be taking over my entire body, its throbbing demands the only thing I could register. He was going to fuck me raw, and if I admitted the truth to myself, I was thrilled at the prospect.

He withdrew and gently turned me to face him. I was finally able to look him in the eyes after our intense coming together. Everything I could possibly hope to see was there: the lust, the longing, the want, the need, the love. Everything I knew I was mirroring back to him.

He kissed me then, and it was the most delicious sensation of all. Open, searching, finding. Our mouths thrilled to being joined together as much as our sex did. My happy hands clutched his hair, toyed with the thick ducktail on his neck, fingered the moles that decorated it on either side. He circled his arms around me and lifted me up with a sigh, effortlessly pulling me off the ground. My arms and legs wasted no time in wrapping around him, and his hands quickly hoisted my thighs up to carry me. I gratefully took the opportunity to kick off my killer heels, sighing with satisfaction as they hit the floor with a loud thunk.

We were in his bedroom in seconds, no excess alcohol tripping Edward up this time. He managed to strip the covers back and deposit me in the middle of his bed with surprising grace. I scooted back toward the pillows, gratefully falling into them as Edward crawled over me. He stared down at me with such fervor that my pulse began to race. He looked lijke he was going to say something, but then swallowed hard, as if choking on the words.

Instead he leaned down and kissed me, his tongue slowly probing my mouth, savoring the feel and flavor as I did the same. I ran my hands up his arms as he held himself aloft; I yearned for him to let his body fall into mine. But I settled for his ardent kisses instead, and sighed as he moved them away from my mouth and down my body. He licked gently at the hollow of my throat; sucked and tugged at my hardened nipples; tickled the indentation of my belly button. I could only stroke his hair and massage the muscles of his neck and shoulders as he worked his way down my frame. I raised my leg between his, letting my knee and then my shin stroke the underside of his cock as he moved. He undulated softly against it, stroking himself on my leg. His mouth moved down to my surely bright pink pussy, and I didn’t struggle as he opened my legs wide and pushed them flat to the mattress.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t bring the camera in here,” he said at last with a gleam in his eye. “You would have turned me into a pornographer.”

I let out a small laugh. “Would you really want a picture of me lying spread-eagle like this?”

He gave me that look as if I were completely obtuse again. “Honey, I would hang a six-foot mural of your spread-eagle pussy on my wall if you’d let me.”

I laughed in earnest then. “You would not.”

“You clearly have no idea how beautiful your snatch is,” he said, his eyes working it over hungrily. “It’s truly a work of art. A work of art that I intend to plunder again. Because I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.”

I got my wish then. He stopped hovering over me and pressed his body into mine, scooting himself up until his lips were tantalizingly close and his hands smoothed the hair back from my face.

“I’m going to make love to you now, Isabella Swan. And you’re going to come for me again.”

I sighed in submission as his hardness found my softness once more and worked its way inside. His eyes never left mine as he moved sensually against me, filling me slowly and pulling out, languid and gorgeous and enthralling. My hands were free to roam his body, to examine the push and pull of his muscles as he moved, to feel their contraction and extension as he pumped in slow motion. He was the work of art, I thought. Yet I couldn’t seem to voice my adoration. The room was still, almost reverently so, bathed in the blue moonlight of a distant window. Speaking now would only break the spell that had bound us both.

He kissed me, his lips as sensuous as his hips, and I fell easily into this new, unhurried rhythm. Though he didn’t pick up the pace, I could feel his movements intensify, his eyes growing glassy, nostrils flaring, as he ground me more thoroughly into the mattress with every thrust. The more his abdomen pressed against me, the more vividly I felt the impact of his cock driving deep inside. I reached up and stroked his face, wondering if he could see in my eyes how much I loved this; how much I loved him. His eyebrows knitted and he pushed inside me even harder as he returned my gaze. No words were necessary now. They were clumsy and inefficient. Inadequate, as always.

I let my hands punctuate our wordless language now, sliding down his body, clutching the firm round cheeks of his ass as he drilled me in this new, inexorable rhythm. I wanted to pull him deeper; feel the weight of his body as he let it sink into me. I sensed the welcome burn beginning in my belly, and I lifted my hips up to meet him as best I could under the pressure of his thrusts.

Edward’s face was growing more impassioned as he worked, and he lifted himself on his hands so that he could drive his dick into me more forcefully. I moaned my approval, and he joined me, making soft, grunting noises with every thrust. The tension was growing inside me, thick and palpable, and I closed my eyes a moment to savor the sensation. I heard Edward’s raspy breath quicken, followed by two muffled, metallic ringing sounds. My eyes flew open to see Edward’s arms taut above me, hands clutching the top rail of the iron headboard. The muscles seethed and popped from his straining flesh as he surged inside me, using the headboard for leverage now.

He had stoked the slow burn in my belly to a fire with his actions. I was overwhelmed at the sight of him undulating above me; the feel of him slamming my body mercilessly toward ecstasy with his own. He was right again. He was making love to me now, with a simultaneously beautiful yet brutal intensity that I had never seen or felt before; and I was going to come.

But not without him this time.

My fingers slid between his cheeks and found the sensitive flesh between his scrotum and anus. I stroked his perineum in time with the rhythm of his thrusts, and he groaned loudly, his eyes wild as he stared down at me. Each breath was a whimper now and I could feel him swell inside me. The tempo of his thrusts increased at last as he came closer and closer to losing his famous control.

“Bella… please….” he echoed my earlier pleas. I had never been so happy to hear a man beg in my life.

“Come for me, Edward,” I ordered softly. I lifted my hips up to swallow him as I pushed him deep inside with my hands. He shuddered and groaned so loudly that the breath of it blew over my face in a hot, heady breeze. And then the delicious heat of his cum shot deep inside me, over and over, its molten lava igniting my own volcano.

As we came together, our eyes locked, fighting the urge to disappear behind our lids at such unbearable ecstasy. We gasped and panted and moaned in unison; and when I stared in awe at the film of tears that glistened over his green orbs, I felt one of my own slip from my right eye, down my temple and into my hair.

He let go of the bed frame then, easing his body onto mine, letting it settle into my welcoming flesh. His kiss was very nearly worshipful as he cradled my face in his hands. His muscles still quivered and I stroked him gently until he relaxed. I savored the feel of his cock twitching occasionally inside me as it, too, recovered from its exertion. The pores of my body gratefully drank in the sheen of sweat that emanated from Edward. As his body cooled, I reached over and pulled the covers over him. He didn’t move, save for his fingers softly combing the hair at my temples, and his lips softly caressing mine. Our eyes were dull and drowsy with slaked lust and punch-drunk love.

We never spoke. We stayed joined together even when Edward rolled to his side, pulling me onto mine. We simply entwined our limbs and stared sleepily at one another, sharing one pillow under our heavy heads. It was a strange sort of staring contest as we took turns dozing for a moment, then opening one sleepy eye to make sure the other was still there. He grinned at me at last before he gave in to unconsciousness; and, staring at his beautiful face, I finally succumbed.

Which brought me to this morning, and my sleepless study of Edward in all his softly snoring glory. Even his snores were sexy and comforting; soft, rumbling sounds not unlike the purring of a cat. They had lulled me to sleep more than once last night. But now I lay gazing at my favorite work of art, reliving the many ways we had ravished each other the night before. Wondering if I was up to continuing the love fest this morning. I was a little sore, but in a good way. A delicious, never-want-it-to-end way. I didn’t want any of this to end. Time could stop now and leave me here, on this day, in Edward’s bed, forever, and I would have no complaints.

He was so beautiful as he lay sleeping that it almost hurt to look at him. Still, I stared at him, unblinking, committing to memory the way pale morning light played over his cheeks and eyelashes. And then I remembered that I didn’t have to do that. I could capture that image forever.

I gingerly pulled myself away from Edward; he frowned slightly as his empty arm settled on the pillow next to him. I tiptoed around the room, glad to see that he had left a discarded t-shirt and shorts on the chair next to the dresser. I eagerly pulled on his worn clothes, breathing his faint scent deeply into my lungs before heading out to the living room.

As I approached the scene of our tryst against the wall, I let out a tiny laugh at the sight of our clothes strewn about: my dress, his pants, pooled into one wrinkled fabric puddle on the glossy hardwood; one scarlet pump adjacent; the other somehow five feet away, near the sofa. And thrown clear to the middle of the living room floor was the tiny, pathetic remnant of my torn g-string, a ruined casualty of our love.

I retrieved Edward’s camera from the window sill, turned it on, and took a picture of our discarded fancy clothes. I grinned as I viewed the digital image before it disappeared. He would laugh when he came across this later.

I returned to his bedroom, and my breath caught in my chest at the sight of him. He had pulled the pillow to him and was clutching it as though it were my warm body. His face was a tranquil sea. He was part little boy, part sexy man, and all Edward.

I approached the bed quietly and stood gazing at him for a moment before I took the photo of his glorious, unforgettable face. I opened my mouth to release the words I’d been longing to say, even if I was the only one who would hear them.

“I love you, Edward.”

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t react in any way. He simply lay perfectly still, my sleeping angel with the devilish streak that I could no longer live without.

I finally tore my eyes away from their heaven and meandered back out into the loft. I couldn’t get the song he’d written out of my mind, the chorus repeating in my head like a siren song, tormenting me. I could remember some of the chorus, but very little of the verses. I wanted to hear the song again, or at least, read the beautiful, haunted words that Edward had composed for me. He had to have them written down somewhere.

I headed for his makeshift “conservatory” and made a beeline straight for the piano. No music sat upon its desk, so I opened the bench lid and rifled through the sheet music contained within. Nothing but printed classical music was stored there.

I frowned and looked around, my eyes falling on a stack of music next to the sofa. I flipped through the pile, but again, most of it was pre-printed guitar tablature. I glanced at the familiar markings, surprised at how easily it all came back to me. I could remember the finger positions for the major chords as if my last lesson were yesterday. Would it be that easy to try again? Like getting back on that bicycle, even after years of standing firmly on solid ground?

I turned my gaze to the row of guitar cases stacked neatly against one wall. My fingers began to itch and my heart thumped loudly in my chest. Maybe it was time to get back on the bike. What did I have to lose? I had given up all of myself to Edward last night, and the freedom was exhilarating. I knew he was here to catch me if I should fall. He had already patched me up once. I knew he was the one who could do it again.

My heart accelerated as I knelt before the newest case, the one that held that gorgeous Martin acoustic he’d played last night. It was the guitar for Our Song. My fingers trembled slightly as I unhooked the fasteners and opened the lid, but I couldn’t help but sigh with happiness at the sight of the shiny, brand-new instrument. It was breath-taking.

I grasped its rosewood neck and gingerly pulled it out, surprised at how lightweight it was. I carried it to the nearby couch and sat down. The guitar seemed to settle itself in the proper position, my right arm draped over its pale spruce top as the ebony back settled against my stomach. My left hand wrapped around the neck for a moment, fingers lying impotently on the frets. I lifted them off and let my right thumb slowly strum the strings, top to bottom: E, A, D, G, B, E.

“Elephants And Donkeys Grow Big Ears,” I whispered to myself. I could hear your voice as clearly as if you were in the room with me. I never forgot that phrase you taught me to help me remember the notes, Mom. I never will.

My left hand took over after that, fingers forming themselves into basic chords on the frets as I fought to press the strings down with my tender, callous-free fingertips. C, C7. D, D minor. F. G, G7. A, A minor. My right hand strummed along, and I tried not to wince at the barely-in-tune chords as I played them. All that mattered is that I was doing it. I hadn’t forgotten the chords.

I could feel happy, grateful tears form as I found A7 and B7. I should have known I’d never truly forget, anymore than I could ever forget you.

I was so engrossed in my musical rediscovery that I didn’t hear the soft pad of bare feet across the hardwood floor. I very nearly jumped out of my skin when a familiar velvet voice cut through the sound of my tentative, rusty guitar work.

“What are you doing, Bella?”