Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series,
T for explicit images (nothing serious… maybe)
Edward leaned against the cool wall of the hallway, awaiting Bella to exit the girl's locker room. Limp tresses swayed in his eyes as wind seeped in through the slips in the doors. Across the hall, two girls giggled impishly, eyes trained on him; each playing with the idea of being his wife. The corners of his lips curled down, a terrible frown on his face as he turned his head to the side, wishing desperately for Bella. The room smelt… absent. As if without her floral scent, no other actually existed—actually mattered. His fingers tapped absentmindedly at the wall, his amber eyes moving to count the squares on the wall as another eruption of naïve giggles fluttered his way.
How can Edward Cullen choose her
It was a thought that occurred daily, but something else—an extra—was added to it, not to mention the two girls weren't the source of it; making him realize that the thought had wavered from inside the locker room. His chest tightened in anticipation, his form rigid as a flurry of pale brown tresses flashed across his mind: an image etched into Jessica Stanley's mind, for she had been the one thinking so viciously about Bella.
Look at her legs, I mean! Freaking skinny!
As if he were seeing through the obnoxious girl's eyes, Edward arched his shoulders, eyebrows furrowed as a pair of slender, ivory legs—crossed over one another—flickered in his head; thighs delicate and frail, but elegant and slender; flesh milky white and so familiar. He turned his head to the other side, cheek pressed against the cold wall; an agonizing longing coursing through his body, and for a moment, he wondered if, indeed, blood did run through his body, because an odd, pleasing warmth engulfed his now quivering frame. The skin of Bella's legs seemed smooth and untouched by any common human difficulties: acne, scars (surprisingly)… and it made her legs so much more pronounced on the edges of his mind; an image baiting him to act on the emotions—the warmth—curling through his bones.
And I'm a C-cup! She's like… like… a negative A-cup!
His jaw flexed; will crumpling as he awaited the image. It was so fast, a rapid motion across his mind—however, his mind locked onto it instantly. The curves of her breasts was so sickeningly pleasurable, it made him want to steal Bella away and keep her as his for an eternity; no other human—or vampire, for that matter—could ever gaze at her. She was far too beautiful. The tender skin made her seem more fragile than normal, yet more of a temptation. All shame for gazing at her naked form—simply fast-moving images seen through another mind, though—shattered onto the floor, along with the coldness of his body. Heat pressed against his body, in all the right places.
I'm skinnier, too.
He clutched his chest—wrinkling fabric—as Jessica's mind kept flickering with Bella's flat stomach, her hips boney; curvy, in fact. Her skin glowed in that spot, and Edward would have rather suffered under the mind of the two girls than to have his will tested so excruciatingly. The warmth spread; his tongue churning with a need—to feel Bella's tongue entwined with his—, and his lower half pulsing with want. Her name waltzed across his thoughts, a chant from a chorus of strong feelings stringing throughout his shaking form.
I wonder what they do when their alone; I mean, the kiss all the time!
Jessica brought up a memory—just half an hour ago, in fact—of him and Bella sharing a tender kiss, and he mentally scolded himself. Why is that he couldn't live up to the potential his mind and body longed for? Does Bella feel dissatisfied with him for it? Question after question plagued his mind, as the haunting images of Bella's nude body danced deliciously across his memory; his eyes. Not even her scent, always so tangible on the air, could compare to the sheer pleasurable lust he was losing himself to. Her blood couldn't even ignite such a passionate hold on him.
lips are too big, too!
Bella's face now blinked in his mind; full, luscious lips puckered while her cheekbones rose as she smiled sweetly at Jessica in the image. Edward closed his eyes tightly, now wanting—no, needing—to press his lips to her; to taste them and keep a part of her fragrance peppered on his lips; his tongue. A "French Kiss," as the humans most often fantasized about… what he was dreaming about at the very moment. His fingers twitched as a compelling yearning to glide them across every part of her body—every curve—began to seem very much a pleasurable idea.
It was odd for him to actual want to hear the rest of Jessica's thoughts; to want to see the images that were embedded into her brain.
He snapped back, his mind ripping away from Jessica's explicit images. Bella stood beside him, book bag slung over her shoulders; the same sweet smile carved onto her face. For a moment, his eyes traveled down her tantalizing body, too swift for her to catch. Clothing now covered every desirable curve and the patches of flesh that made his chest ache with want. She cocked her head, startled by the odd animosity in his eyes (which he could imagine were a perpetual black, wild and uncontrolled).
"Are you alright?" Bella asked, uncertainty lacing through her words. She made a move to step back slightly—as though her blood was the thing causing him so much pain—, but Edward managed to snake his arms around her waist, stunning her a great deal; her few books toppling onto the tiled floor, and bag slipping from her shoulder. His lips crushed onto hers, his arms refusing to allow her to move away. It didn't take long for Bella to react, for her fingers tangled through his hair, attempting to hold him to her so that the moment could last. A short gasp escaped her lips as his tongue greeted hers warmly; warm breath scattering across his lips and his tongue. His hand clutched her waist, wishing to touch her skin; her creamy, glowing skin. She eagerly urged her body closer, her lips locked on his with brute force; trapped where she was as his hands refused any sort of escape. The swelling ache in his chest expanded, primarily to his fingers as they drummed up her arm, causing her to shiver in response, but remain in place, her lips opening and closing as to allow a safe passage of oxygen.
His hand rested on her collarbone—thumb stroking her skin—, while his other hand remained trained on her waist, fingers craving as he dug them, however slightly, into her hips; a soft tear formed at the hem of her shirt. With his chest so desirably close to her hers, the beat of her heart pounded against him, never ceasing its rapid movement. Her breath, her body, her tongue… it all flowed to his head, unimaginable lust controlling his arms and his mouth. Bella's warm hand moved under the silk of his white shirt; across hard muscles.
Too bad for his desires: her scent—the adrenaline of her tempting blood—came rushing back into him, causing his nostrils to flare. Gingerly, he unhooked her fingers, softly moved her hands away, and took a staggering step backward, now controlling all his heightened senses. He stared back up, away from the floor, and Bella was breathing heavily, her heart racing; a rosy red flush staining her face. Her brown orbs were glistening and bright with excitement, the depth of them nothing but a warm, brown flame.
Before he could react to anything else—before Bella could attack with more want while his defenses were down again at the sight of her shirt strap off her shoulder, revealing the curve of her neck—, in the corner of his eye, he found Jessica standing near the locker room door, mouth open and eyes wide with definite disbelief.
"I may not be a human, but I am a man."—Edward Cullen, Twilight