Title: Torture

Rating: M

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer, and I don't know if she would approve of this, but you know she had to expect it.

I love you

I love you. I want you. Right now.

The words echoed in her dreams, sweet and sultry in her ears. She can almost smell his cool, intoxicating breath against her skin, can almost taste it. His fingers trail down her neck, lines of ice – and fire, it must be fire, because she's never felt so hot in her life, as if her blood is boiling under her skin.

She is naked and her sweat makes her skin stick to the sheets. His cold hands are both the disease and the cure, stoking the fires as he touches her in intimate places, making her shiver as his hands graze her stomach and hips and thighs.

His upper body is bare and she wants to unclothe the rest of him, to see how perfect he really is and use his cold skin to quench the flames.

She awakes with a jolt. At first she can't remember where she is or why. All she knows is that she's been pulled abruptly from the greatest pleasure of her life.

"What were you dreaming of?" the sweet voice from her dream whispers in her ear, low and husky and amused.

She gasps as recognition kicks in. Edward. She is in Edward's room, "staying the weekend with Alice" to plan for the wedding, as far as Charlie knows. Charlie also thinks Edward and his brothers are camping. He'd have a heart attack if he knew were Edward actually was, and what she'd been dreaming of doing with him.

"Oh, God," she groans, burying her face in the pillow. "What did I say?"

"Not much," he murmurs, gently brushing the hair off her neck to stroke the delicate skin there. She shivers. "Mostly you just moaned. And begged."

"Begged?" she whimpers.

"Oh, Edward, please, more," he mimics, and she feels herself blushing hotly. His fingers trail down her spine.

"We don't have to wait, you know," he says, "If it's what you want…if you're sure. I won't refuse you again."

She gulps and squeezes her eyes shut against the temptation. She does want it, more than anything. She's sure of that. But she also wants to do this properly…to have no more regrets than she's already accumulated. Oh, but how is she supposed to say no to that offer?

"We – we should do it the right way. And not just because I'm going to spontaneously combust," she manages. He chuckles, his chest rumbling and his breath fluttering against her ear.

"Well," he says, "I'm no expert, but I've heard enough filthy minds to know of ways to stave off the combustion without…resorting to extremes."

"I really don't think a cold shower will work for me," she says, the trembling in her voice belying the sarcasm.

He laughs outright. "I was referring to ways of satisfying your desires, Bella, not suppressing them."

She shudders a little at the very thought. "How would you do that?"

"How would you like me to?" he asks, teasing her.

She turns to him, nearly growling in frustration. "However you can, Edward."

He smiles and pushes her gently onto her back. "Let's find out, shall we?"

His lips are on hers immediately, cold and hard and perfect. His tongue traces her lips, and for the first time he lets her taste it. It's cold like ice cream melting in her mouth and his venom is not bitter…it's oh so sweet, nothing like she imagined. She wonders what it might do to her, the venom, but decides she won't worry about it if he doesn't. He would never do anything that could harm her.

His hands trail down her bare arms and then back up her sides under the tank-top she's wearing for bed. The cool fingers slide tentatively over her breasts, and she can't think; she can't breathe. His thumbs brush delicately over her nipples, and her heart beats fast enough to explode as electricity rockets through her, like the first time they touched, but taken to extremes, almost painful in its intensity.

Edward forcibly keeps his eyes gentle as he removes the shirt entirely, but the expression doesn't quite mask the hunger – a hunger that excites her, because for once, it's for her body, not her blood. His eyes can take in every detail in the darkness, and for once, she isn't embarrassed, because his gaze is so sincere, so convincing – he truly does believe she's beautiful…so maybe, just maybe, she is.

He disappoints her by first lowering his lips to her collar bone, ignoring the newly exposed parts of her body completely. His lips are incapable of disappointing, however, and all she can do is feel as he grazes over her shoulder and down her breastbone, toward the place where her heart is flying in her chest. His lips skim the curve of her breast, and the hair hanging over his forehead tickles her skin.

"Edward," she groans impatiently, afraid to stop him and even more afraid to let him continue at this torturous pace.

"Am I doing this wrong?" he asks, but the way he fights a smirk gives him away.

Bella frowns and crosses her arms over her chest, petulantly. "I think you're enjoying yourself far too much, that's all."

He laughs and gently pulls her arms away. "Of course I am. I have to take what I can get for now." He cocks his head to the side, considering something. "I suppose I can satisfy you now and torture you later."

She gulps. "That would work."

His answering grin is devious. "Well, then…."

Before she can register what is happening, his mouth is once again at her breast and his lips are tugging gently at her nipple. Cold and soft, his tongue flicks delicately against the swollen bud, and a moan gurgles up from her throat as the ache between her thighs intensifies.

He chuckles, and his cool breath floats across her skin like a caress. He mirrors his actions on her other breast, and then presses his tongue harder against her than before. It makes her jerk against him.

He surprises her by moaning a little himself.

"What is it?" she asks breathlessly as he continues down her body. His tongue flicks against her navel and she accidentally jerks upward again.

"I love the way you move when I'm doing these things to you," he murmurs, and she feels his lips curve into a smile against her skin. "It's…hypnotic."

She can only laugh shakily in response because he's pulling her pajama pants down, and the nervousness hits her again. This is so new, so strange for them…and still, so exciting. She hopes he likes this part of her as much as the rest, that he'll want to do this again and again with her, because she already knows she'll be wanting more after this.

"Is this okay, Bella?" he asks, sensing her nervousness, and he strokes the back of her calve, trying to be comforting – but it only stokes the fires within her.

"Yes," she breathes, "please…don't stop."

He smiles, almost a little shyly, and presses his lips to her knee, and then up… His nose skims the length of her thigh, taking in her scent, before he arrives at her damp cotton panties and inhales deeply. She blushes furiously.

"You smell even better here," he says hoarsely, and his eyes gleam in the moonlight.

She swallows with difficulty. "Well…I think that's where all my blood went. I'm fairly sure there's none left in my head."

"It's not just your blood," he says, smiling wryly as he fingers the elastic waistband of her panties. His next words are a husky whisper that sends chills down her spine. "I want to taste you."

She can only nod her assent. Almost reverently, he tugs the flimsy garment down her legs. His fingers brush her skin and make her shiver.

The fabric falls to the floor, and he lowers his head between her legs. The moonlight glints off his auburn hair and her heart thrums in anticipation. His tongue touches her folds and she cries out in surprise at the sensation.

Against her heated flesh, his tongue is even colder, like a melting ice cube, and it's both shocking and incredibly, unimaginably, unbearably pleasurable.

He laps up her juices like a cat at a bowl of milk, and every stroke of his tongue is another shock to her system, another blow to her extremely fragile self control. He holds her hips in place as he flicks his tongue upward to circle her clit, round and round, followed by a series of quick touches and long swipes. He continues in strange patterns until she's panting for breath and clutching the sheets to avoid tangling her fingers in his hair and holding him closer.

And then his sly hand travels up her thigh again and he slides an icy finger inside her. She clenches around him instinctively, and he groans a little against her, though his quick tongue never falters. His tongue presses against her as his finger strokes inside her, and she explodes.

She's flying, falling – she's jumping off the cliff all over again, except this time the crashing waves below are pure pleasure and Edward is keeping her floating on them. She's making an obscene amount of noise, but she can't stop, even knowing everyone in the house can hear and will know exactly what they've been up to. She is little more than a slave to the electricity that rips through every nerve and leaves her tingling and boneless.

He doesn't stop immediately, but continues with gentle licks until she can breathe again and her writhing dulls to a slight trembling.

Releasing her, he moves to lay beside her, licking his lips with smugness and satisfaction. She's too dazed to do little more than curl weakly against him, seeking the coolness of his body to calm the overwhelming heat in hers.

He holds her, tracing idle patterns on her bare back, humming an unfamiliar tune. When she trusts her voice again, she looks up at him, questioning.

"If that was just satisfying me, what on earth is the torture going to be like?"

He just grins.