I see him standing not very far from me, and feel I know him, though I do not. He looks at me, eyes glowing golden-green across the distance, as though daring me to come to him, to speak to him. But I do not say a word.

I look away quickly, glancing around the nearly deserted fun park, looking for something else to catch my eye, some escape from the attraction of his face. All the rides are moving, but only one or two people are sitting in the little moving cages. Flying up into the sky, way up high, over the breathless, humid ground.

I wipe the sweat from my brow and glance again at him. Summer hasn't faded from this place, it lingers in the heat that wraps around us, making me sweat and him too. He catches my eye again as he passes a finger across his mouth, wiping away the beads of sweat forming there.

And I cannot look away. He holds my look and slowly he begins to smile. Smiling as though he knows me and all my twisted thoughts. Perhaps he does.

His head inclines, ever so slightly, and then he turns away. Walking with casual purpose towards the shadowy corner of a low slung building. For just a moment he pauses, and I know that he has paused for me.

"I'll be right back," I murmur to my friends, making the decision to follow him there, though seemingly without having a single thought.

As I approach him, he moves again, pushing open a darkened door and disappearing into the room, all without a single word or glance for me. But still, I know that I should follow. The door is marked with the symbol for the Man. This is a men's restroom, I now know. Even so, I push open the door and enter into the cool darkness of the room.

There is a smell of urine and a feel of dampness in the air. All is quiet, the park nearly deserted and only he and I are here in this room. His back is turned to me, his hair glowing golden in the twilight air, and I wonder if I should go to him now, perhaps to fling myself onto my knees and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my face into the cleft back there and tasting and touching and smelling all that I can reach in this one moment given to me. But before I can decide, he turns to me, the same little smirk playing around his mouth.

Yes, he does know my twisted thoughts. He can see right through me. No, he doesn't need to say a word. I know what I must do.

I approach him, coming within reach of him, his eyes holding mine with every step. A motion of his hand tells me to get down onto my knees, and I tremble. I can hear the sounds of others outside in the park. The fear of being caught in such a position mingles with the humiliation of being so casually used by him, but my outrage feels more like desire and I find myself kneeling at his feet, the cement biting into my bare knees as he opens up his pants.

This is wrong, I tell myself. This is dirty.

But that doesn't stop me from touching him, tasting him, running my tongue across the ruby head of his erection. He tastes good, his sweat and musk sharp in my nose and in my mouth now. His hands are on my head, pressing me forward. My mouth yawns open and he gives me what I want, pushing himself inside of me, making me groan. The shame of my desire seeps from me like bitter honey.

Take it all, that's what I want. Make him cum.

We find a rhythm now, the two of us, him thrusting and me moving my head forward and back, my mouth tight, saliva dripping from my mouth and down his shaft. Slick and fast, he slides across my lips, my tongue curls around him at the top, and then I slide down again. His excitement grows. I can taste it. But then he thrusts too hard, and I feel that I might choke or fall onto the dirty floor or both, so I clutch at him, grabbing his hips and pressing him away from me, fingers digging into his buttocks. They are firm and round, and my touch changes from a push away into a caress, a steady squeeze and stroke.

Let him fuck me as he wants, I think, and the thought makes me burn all the hotter. Let him have me.

I look up into his face and see that his eyes are on me, too. There is no trace of humor in them now. They are narrowed, hard. His mouth no longer soft and sensual, but stern. His hands hold me in such a grip, I know that I cannot escape him. And he thrusts harder and harder into my mouth, his cock twitching slightly against my tongue as he begins to spurt, his semen filling my mouth. That tastes good too, and I swallow it all down.

He is so lovely, lovely, my mind stutters incoherently. His eyes on mine burning golden, holding me captive in their strange light.

And then it is over. Without a word, he zips his pants, a smirk on his mouth again. He knows the blaze of heat that is inside of me now, the need for orgasm that is tormenting me, but he doesn't make a move to touch me, instead leaving me discarded on the floor as he walks away from me, out of my sight, standing now behind me, silent as the grave.

I want to touch myself, but will he let me?

As if in answer, I feel his hands on my arms, lifting me from the ground, pulling me up and holding me tightly against him, my back against his chest. With a dawning, dull horror, I realize that, though my own breath runs rough and ragged in and out of my trembling body, his own body is completely still. Without breath. And his embrace is cold, unnatural. He is without life. But the horror of this never really blooms. It remains coiled in my chest.

He brushes my hair to the side and brings his lips to rest against the soft, soft skin of my neck. His lips are like velvet, as I had thought they would be, but his kiss does not remain soft. It grows rough as his other hand slips under my skirt and into my panties, making me moan as finally he touches me. The pleasure of his touch is made all the sharper as his teeth breaks the surface of my skin.

Blood now flows from me into his mouth and I groan with helpless desire as he begins to suck, the pulling of his lips in rhythm with his fingers which are now slick with my wetness and dancing lightly over my clit.

My God, I'm going to cum, I think, shocked by my reaction, knowing I should tear myself away from him, run out into the humid park and find the safety of my friends. But I don't.

I press against his hand, his mouth still feeding at my neck, and I cry out as I climax, hard and fast, showers of stars sparking behind my closed lids. Then I fall still, leaning against him, feeling suddenly weak as he runs his tongue against my wound. I shiver.

Without a word, I know he wants me to turn to face him, and so I do, looking once again into his impossibly handsome face. Now finally he speaks to me.

"You will return to me soon, my pet." His voice is low and smooth, enchanting. The words melodic.

I nod my head in abject agreement.

Of course I would. I now belonged to him.

Dirty, dirty, dirty. I know. I have such a dirty mind.

But I hope you enjoyed it. I really liked the end, when he finally touches her. What a horny little vampire that Edward is, huh?