Pairing: Edward/Bella.

Disclaimer; the Twilight saga doesn't belong to me. I make no money from my stories.

Warnings: NU18. Contains underage sex and a dirty talking Edward. Strong language and questionable adult situations. This is an age gap fic, and naughtiness abounds. Bella is very young when this story begins. But there are a couple if time lapses and she will be older eventually! Although the age gap wont lessen, obviously. Be warned. Thanks!

A/N; This chapter has finally been Beta'd by Fran :) I'm so happy! It's all sparkly now, just like the others.

Chapter One - The game begins.

The overhead lights glittered with subtle sophistication as a myriad of couples swayed gently to the music. Conversation ebbed and flowed around me and I sigh; probably for the fiftieth time this evening as boredom washed through me, leaving me lethargic. I needed some excitement, I'm too young for this kind of life.

Reaching over lightly as a waiter passed, I slipped a glass of champagne off his tray. His eyes flashed to my face with a frown that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of me, with a slight smirk and an eyebrow waggle he moved on.

In his defense, I certainly did not look sixteen. My sea green gown is fitted, old world glamour. It shimmered as I moved, crystals sewn onto every centimeter of its expanse. The length is long, with a very deep slit that revealed much too much leg. The whole ensemble gives the impression of water. I love it as its color compliments my chocolate brown hair and alabaster skin to perfection. My hair hangs free tonight, maybe because it annoys my mother that I won't have it cut into some chic do. It is long and untamed, falling from my head to my hips in a waterfall of wanton curls and waves.

It is my one rebellion.

Otherwise, I am the dutiful daughter and do as I'm told, so my one bit of rebellion is overlooked.

A sip of the bubbly liquid slipped down my throat and I welcomed the slight burn along with the relaxation that followed. Mother and her damned fundraisers. I hated them but really didn't have a choice about attending them. My dad hated these things as much as I did, but even he had succumbed to Mother's pleading tonight.

The only bit of excitement on the proverbial horizon was that I heard Dad telling Mother that his friend was coming in tonight from Los Angeles. Dad was so pumped about seeing him again that he had arranged for him to meet us here, at the museum that Mother ran and co-owned. I had never met this particular friend and any new face was an interesting change from the sameness of my life. I would probably be disappointed, he was probably going to be fat and balding and middle aged looking. Being the same age as my dad, he was sure to be at least one of those things. Dad was fairly young, I guess, being thirty-eight and very well preserved. I guessed that his friend would be much the same age.

Another sip of the bubbly golden liquid had me feeling very relaxed and almost happy. I drifted amongst the other guests weightlessly; small beaded clutch in my one hand, the champagne in the other. A floor length mirror I passed told me I didn't look half as plastered as I felt. I hadn't had alcohol often, so the glass I held was doubly intoxicating. I drained it and placed it on a small decorative table as I passed.

Evidence of my minor indiscretion well hidden; check.

I see my dad standing uncomfortably near the dais, which my mother and other members of the committee will use to give interminable, long-winded speeches. He is all done up in a tuxedo worthy of a royal banquet and I smile lovingly at him as I reach his side. Reaching up I adjust his bow tie and smooth his jacket with a mischievous smirk.

"Having fun Dad?"

A dirty look and a small smile are my answers as he pulls me into his side with fatherly pride, his arm running along my shoulders.

"Na Bells, you know I don't like this kind of thing. However, your mother insisted we all be here as a 'united front'. I would much rather be watching the game and having a beer with Harry."

Harry was Dad's other longtime friend and had masterminded many an escape involving my father disappearing for a few days at a time on 'fishing trips' to the coast.

I guessed even he needed a break from my mother's constant social climbing and charity work, endless committee meetings and boring, stiff, upper-class parties. Charlie wasn't sophisticated, he was small-town and proud of it. I often wondered how he had ended up with my extremely sophisticated mother who seemed to have been born for this life, it seemed. I tried to imagine her in a small gossipy town but failed miserably.

"You're looking beautiful tonight, Bells. My little girl is almost all grown up. You make your old man feel ancient." He hugged me, squeezing gently and my heart squeezed, too. I love my dad. Sometimes I feel like he is the only real thing in my life.

I smile up at him again and lay my head against his shoulder. "Thanks, Dad."

I see Rene from across the room. She sees us and frowns slightly her eyes mildly irritated. We aren't mingling, as we should … as she would like us to. "Mom has seen us. Let me go and mingle and leave you to your duties, Dad." I say as I pat his chest with a playful hand and slip away, throwing a kiss to Charlie as I go.

He groans mockingly, and sips his drink as he begins to talk to an aged ambassador with an overstuffed shirt front, probably from too many creampuffs at numerous teas.

I giggle light-heartedly as I nod at my mother's acquaintances left and right. I see several speculative glances fall on me as I walk, from men who are old enough to be my grandfather. I suppress a shiver of disgust as I make my escape through the lofty pillars towards a deserted side of the museum. The polished floor gleams in the muted light and I make a game of stepping on only the black squares.

My high heels tap loudly in the suddenly quiet surroundings and I feel relaxed for the first time tonight. A sky window above me lets in the beautiful moonlight. It floods the floor around me and I twirl with childlike glee in the bright, natural spotlight as I feel the exhilaration I normally feel when I have evaded my mother for any length of time.

It's beautiful.

It's wonderful.

It's freedom.

And I love it.

"Do you usually dance by yourself, Venus?" a smooth voice asks. I stop and stare into the shadows around me, startled, and more than a little embarrassed to be caught twirling like a child.

I feel my cheeks heat and I lift my chin in a defensive manner. I can't see him clearly, because he is standing in the shadows, leaning against a pillar, which borders my small island of moonlight.

All I can make out is that he is tall.

"Venus?" I ask my voice trembling, although I try to appear calm and unruffled. I don't usually talk to strangers. However, for once I don't care.

"Aphrodite then. No, in fact, I think a sea nymph is more appropriate when describing you. That gown is really something." The voice is as smooth a melted caramel and sends a shiver of delicious anticipation running through my core.

"Really?" I deadpan sounding far surer of myself than I am. "Is that the best you can do?"

A chuckle sweeps towards me from the shadows; it strums a hidden cord within my body. "It's not my best by far. Would you like me to try again?"

I nod boldly, just as I shift my beaded clutch from one hand to the other.

"You look like sex and I want to taste every inch of you." The voice is wickedly decadent, dark chocolate. He is trying to shock me and he has succeeded, although I would rather die than let him know.

I gulp down the saliva that has pooled in my mouth and blink at the shadowy figure. A surge of a foreign sensation floods my lower stomach and I feel my sex tighten. Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening to me.

A secret assignation in a dark corner; how felicitous.

But this is a man not a boy, I can tell by his voice. If he were a boy, he would be someone I could lead around easily. Somehow, instinct tells me that this man is not led around by anyone.

Excitement grips me none too gently and I feel fire rip through my body for the first time in my life. I have never experienced these sensations … they are so wildly unusual. Fear and excitement rush through me again as I see the figure straighten, and then saunter towards me.



I should be terrified and yet I have never felt so alive.

Does this man know me?

Does he know I'm only sixteen?

I don't believe he does, and that knowledge fills me with a shimmering wave of excitement, renewed and intensified. Right now, I am just a woman and he is just a man.

Nothing more, nothing less. The possibilities are endless.

Finally, I might get some of the experience I so desperately crave.

I wish to be an experienced woman and yet I have never been kissed. It disgusts me; I hate my youth and inexperience.

The figure advances until the moonlight illuminates him softly and I stifle a moan just in time to avoid embarrassment. As it is, I drag air deeply into my suddenly-starving lungs. It sounds like the gasp it is and echoes through the huge room.

I had not expected him to be quite so beautiful.

I had not expected him to be quite so young.

I stared like an idiot as he slowly walked towards me a slight smile on his lips.

Messy bronze hair, short on the sides and longer in the front, falls into his glittering eyes, which are fixed on me with almost frightening intensity. As he nears me, I see that his eyes are a dark, moist green; like moss on a damp, rainy day. They swirl with emotions I can't name; I don't dare to name them. He wears a tuxedo and it fits him like a glove; his body is well built without being bulky. He is lithe elegance and strength combined. I watch enraptured as he walks to me, until the material of his jacket is touching my dress.

I swallow; hoping the lump in my throat will disappear, and try not to be obvious as I stand my ground bravely.

"Did I shock you?"

I begin to shake my head in denial even as he chuckles again.

I don't fool him, I realize.

"I meant to shock you. Your reactions are so refreshingly different. Forgive me."

I look up at him and feel my head swim dangerously. I sway slightly on my six inch heels. Whether it's the champagne or this man's presence, I cannot tell, but I feel drunk, more so than ever before in my life.

"So you didn't mean it?" I ask my voice breathless and yet bold.

His eyes darken further as they visually eat me. I think it's called an eye fuck. The flesh between my thighs throb and pulse oddly, and I blush.

No smile graces his face as he stops an inch from me, our bodies almost touching. Electricity surges between us, the air crackles with it and I shiver involuntarily.

"I meant every word."

Need flies through me and I sway towards this stranger like a magnet seeking its partner.

"What is your name?"

I link my fingers together trying to stop myself from grabbing onto his elegant tuxedo jacket just as they are itching to do.

His scent is incredible; expensive aftershave, a hint of cigarette smoke. It teases my nostrils as I breathe him in and lean closer still.

"Does it matter?" I ask.

I notice that his hands are slung casually into his trouser pockets. He looks movie star cool and calm. I envy his nonchalant attitude and glamorous essence. It's part of him. He's not affected.

He shakes his head causing the moonlight overhead to dance on his shiny, messy brown hair. He grins as his eyes watchfully follow his own finger as it reaches out to trace a fiery path across my cheek. It strokes softly, teasingly across my skin and I stop breathing entirely. My nipples harden against my bodice, the tight material rubbing across the aching peaks teasingly. I bite back a moan of want as his finger traces the tiny dip beneath my bottom lip.

"So tempting. So beautiful." He says simply, lazily, as I watch his lips form the words. His lips are deliciously pouty.

"I want you."

I'm not sure what he wants exactly, but I want him to kiss me.

I know he sees where my eyes are fixed as though I am hypnotized, and he laughs softly once again.

"Shall I taste you?" His deeply smooth voice asks wickedly.

I don't answer, I am too shy. I act boldly though, as I grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward. His hand closes over my wrist and I gasp loudly as he roughly anchors it, along with my other one together behind my back without me realizing how he managed it so quickly. His touch is filled with rough passion and my body responds instantly. Instead of fear, I feel only lust. My clutch falls, forgotten to the tiled floor. I can't think about that or anything else as I feel my body slide against his.

His body is hard, solid against mine, and my sex throbs again asking for deeper contact.

I watch transfixed as his head descends toward mine. He kisses me then, as roughly as he holds my hands. A soft, slow touching of lips and then his tongue is in my mouth and I whimper. The sound I make is swallowed up as his hands squeeze relentlessly around my wrists causing pain, and strangely, ecstasy.

I never knew it could feel so good to kiss someone. His taste fills me to the brim and I submit eagerly. He sucks my reluctant tongue into his own mouth and I find my hips moving against his hardness as if they had a mind of their own.

I am embarrassed and elated all at once.

The faint sound of the ballroom music tickles my senses and increases the unreal feeling that persists.

Am I dreaming?


But I don't want to wake up.

The stranger's strong hands still grip me and I sense his total lack of control. Yet he appears completely calm. Our kiss ends and his body sways slightly to the distant music that surrounds us. I feel my body follow his lead until we are dancing slowly in a small circle.

I open my eyes and glance up at dark green, glittering with passion and need.

My stomach flip-flops deliriously and my heart beats so fast in my chest that I am scared it might beat right out of my body.

His hand releases mine and sensuously strokes my arms as they rise towards my shoulders. They're large and almost cover my arms entirely.

I am breathing fast and I see his eyes dip to my chest, blatantly watching the rise and fall of my breasts. My cheeks flame and I try to pull him into another kiss.

I just want more.

He smirks at me and his face begins to fall toward mine. But he pauses a moment as the sound of clattering footsteps echo through the halls. I pull back guiltily, my cheeks flaming further as I cringe at being discovered.

"I have to go," I whisper my lips feel swollen and strange.

"I'll find you again." He says and it sounds like a promise.

I shake my head slightly as I back away from him.

"I'm sorry," I say as I turn and run-walk toward the party and the distant noise.

One last glance over my shoulder told me that the stranger was still where I had left him.

He was watching me closely, eyes glittering dangerously. All I wanted to do was run back to him, no matter how crazy that was. The urge sacred me, so I moved forwards toward sanity instead.

Entering the party once again, I ran straight into my mother.

"Bella where have you been? You're so flushed darling. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Can I go home, please, I have a headache." I am ever hopeful it seems. I want to be alone with my thoughts.

A shocked look flits across her serenely beautiful face and know that she needs backup tonight and I'm it.

"No, Bella. I need you darling. Go and freshen up in the ladies and come and join us. Your father's friend has arrived and you must meet him."

I turn away in defeat and make my way to the powder room. I lean against the door for several moments getting my bearings back. Somehow, I feel different, older, and I want to see him again.

I know that it's impossible and that I will probably never see him again. Nevertheless, I can only hope that I do, against all odds.

I want more of his rough passion. I want another taste of his lips and tongue. I want him to be the one to teach me all he knows.

I wish I had asked his name at least.

After powdering my face delicately and fixing my hair, I slick on my vanilla lip-gloss and touch up my eye makeup. Once again, picture perfect, I make my way back towards the dais and my needy mother.

I don't pay enough attention and bump into the person standing beside my dad. I murmur my apology as I raise my eyes to his face. My body knows already. It comes alive under the hand that steadies me, and once again, I am breathless and excited all at once.

Brown meets moss green with amusement, which dies in shock as my mother cheerfully announces, "Oh, I see you've caught her. Dear Edward, let me introduce to you my daughter, Isabella. Bella this is your father's friend, Edward Cullen."

Our eyes meet.

Dismayed green and shocked brown.

He drops my arm as though burned, and nods at me cool-friendly.

"Miss Swan, it's my pleasure." He intones formally, as he dismisses me with a quick glance.

He continues his conversation with Dad as I at him gape in total shock for a moment.

My mother grips my arm none too gently and whispers into my ear. "Bella pull yourself together, your're scaring our guest."

I fake smile immediately and straighten up; the picture perfect daughter within seconds. It's what is expected of me and I deliver just as I always have.

I watch, still stunned as Edward Cullen speaks to my father who clasps him on the shoulder in close friendship. Dad practically glows at this happy reunion.

Of all the men in the world, why did it have to be him? My dad's best friend. He was at least twenty years my senior although he didn't look it for a moment.

His beauty was indisputable and blinding. I had an overwhelming urge to Google him. I wanted to find out all I could about him. I had a vague memory of hearing some gossip connected with his name and I was dying to see just how scandalous it was.

He was a professional at this, not glancing at me again for the rest of the evening.

It drove me insane.

Not even one small look.

Come on, Edward Cullen, look at me.

Look at me.

I chanted internally.

I felt like pouting, but I didn't.



Laugh at jokes that made no sense.

I functioned, but all I could see was Edward.

I wanted to carry on where we left off. I wanted him to show me everything he knew and then I wanted him to revise each lesson in detail. I wanted those delectably pouty lips on mine again, and I wanted to touch him, to run my hands through that messy hair and I wanted to drown in his scent.

Desire throbbed through me and I stared, trying not to be obvious, as he spoke to my mother, head bent at just the right angle to indicate interest. I was fascinated and enthralled by each.

My mother turned to speak to my father and in that, split second Edward's eyes rose to mine as though he had been aware of my scrutiny and lustful thoughts all along.

And then I realized that he had been.

My heart fluttered, and I am nothing but crazy beating heart and breathless wonder.

I stare into his dark green eyes for a moment and feel faint. I see a small but definite smirk twist at the corner of his lip as he rakes my entire face and body in one, clean sweep.

My fingers tighten on my champagne flute and I think I must be panting. His gaze is gone quickly, and I am left wondering if I imagined it.

Excitement grips me as I realize that I want him.

Maybe more than I should.

Because I know that he wants me, too, and that's all that matters.