Authors note; This is my first contest entry, and I think, more importantly, my first lemon. Flames are welcome, but gimmie a break? I'm not really experienced in this field… *blush* Supposed to be like a letter. Well, I guess this is my innocence outta the window…

Disclaiming: Any lines you recognise are either from Pride and Prejudice or Twilight, therefore I own neither plot, nor some of this writing.

Steamy Movie Crossover Contest

Name of story: Expectations

Penname: NatalieRB

Movie or TV Show: Pride & Prejudice

Main Character Pairing: Edward & Bella

POV: Bella

To read the rest of the entries go to the Steamy Movie Crossover Contest C2.

If you want to see the rules for this contest go to TheThreeSmutketeers profile page.


ObessingoverEdward, Jayeliwood, or TheSpoiltOne-amanda2505 profile pages.

If you have any questions about the contest, contact them.

Contest ends February 5, 2009

If you'd like to see the other entries in this contest, check out the C2.


Dearest Mr Edward Cullen

I'm not too good at writing letters. But of course, you already know that. Please, be patient with me. But, typically, you already are. This feels like a very strange new experience. I don't usually write letters to anyone other than my sisters, perhaps my dear uncle, therefore my hand is shaking and my mind is racing at the fastest pace imaginable. Listen to me! I feel terribly immature, rambling about awful things that you need not know, wasting your time. Please, forgive me.

I only attempt to write this letter as a way of telling you of my feelings. I wish to tell you of how you affected my in every way imaginable, the way you made me feel with just a quick glance, the way your hand felt holding mine. I think you do not understand me enough, Edward. That is why I am writing you this, currently, extremely awful letter.

My first memory of you is terrifying. Dear Edward, do not think this a bad thing! Your eyes, the most memorable part of my evening, were deathly. Although, unfortunately, you had not once looked me in the eyes that night. I longed desperately, although I had only just seen you, to see the green eyes I had heard so much about. You were said to have the amazing gift to make one feel like a young girl, yet still feel like a woman worthy of your company. I willed myself to find out for myself, but you did not give me the pleasure of placing your eyes to mine.

You seemed such a frightening man, Edward. Your brow was furrowed, a permanent crease between your eyes. There was an instinct forming, bubbling beneath my skin, but I was yet to identify it. Although you seemed proud, aloof, you had a look on your face that made my heart ache.

The only conversation we had held alone left me terribly hurt. But I do not wish to make you feel bad, oh no! But for the ten minutes prior to our conversation I had watched you sipping your wine, usually alone except from the few moments you had spent conversing with Mr Whitlock's sister. I had gone through what I would say to you several times in my mind, trying to decipher the best way to word what I wanted to say without making a complete fool of myself. Of course, with your dismissal, I had failed terribly and slouched off to lick my wounds in private.

There was another thing I had yet to tell you, but I believe you are intelligent enough to deduce it. But I will speak of it again, as I wish not to leave anything out.

That evening, when you spoke alone with Mr Whitlock, myself and my dear friend Rosalie were hidden. I had heard you speak of me and my sister, Alice. 'Merely handsome'? I believe those were the words you had used, and now I feel terribly childish for remembering that in the first place, let alone questioning you. You had your reasons. Let us not speak of it again.

That night was when my sister had started to develop her feelings for Mr Whitlock. We spoke until the early hours of the morning, but I listened. I did not speak of my evening, but listened to hers. After all, there was nothing interesting I had to speak of. Well, nothing interesting I was willing to speak of.

As the months passed, we had few more encounters. Strangely, I had developed a new feeling that I had read about in countless books, heard about from endless amounts of people yet had never experienced myself. It was, originally, a terrifying feeling. I felt awfully vulnerable.

I hardly recall the days I had spent at the manor when my sister fell ill. My heart was beating furiously the whole time, simply at the thought of being in the same home as you. And that was all I could remember; the amazing feeling of being under your stare, the breathtaking way you made me feel. I recall when I first walked through the doors, feeling terrible. I was hardly appropriate to see you, my hair unruly and my dress six inches deep in mud. But the need to see my beloved sister outweighed my vanity. But when I walked through the doors, and you stood to greet me, I was unstable. As soon as you looked at me, if my brain had not kicked into action just in time, I felt my legs turn completely unresponsive. I was momentarily welded to the floor. That moment, I believe, was the moment my unconscious decided my feelings for you.

At the ball my sisters insisted Mr Whitlock hold, I only remember seeing you during the one dance we shared. There was no one else in the room during that moment. No one else had mattered at all.

I was young, intellectually. I was stubborn. I insisted that I was right. I undermined you. But I do not apologise. If I had not, then I believe we would not be where we are today. I regret nothing. But when you had the fire in your eyes, the feeling of instability returned, but yet another feeling passed through me. I couldn't resist the way you were unafraid to speak your mind, the way, perhaps unconsciously, your hand grew tighter on mine as the conversation continued. It was the feeling, which I had only identified well into the night, as lust.

When my uncle and I had travelled to your home, I fought it. I did not wish to see your home in the fear of encountering you again. You had made me feel even more vulnerable, and that feeling was extremely unappreciated on my part. I felt defenceless, and I hated it. I had completely lost control of myself.

The bust of you was the moment I actually saw you, Edward. Then, my unconscious had developed, finally breaking into my consciousness, and that was when I fell completely in love with you. Your face in that sculpture was the thing that encouraged the feelings, which I had been repressing for so long, to burst through. It was like a raging inferno throughout my veins, everywhere.

I meant not to intrude. The girl was so beautiful, and the way you looked at her completely broke my heart. She was so beautiful, and in the few seconds I had seen you together, I had decided that, when I had rejected your offer, you came to your senses. You realised you could do so much better than myself.

Edward do you understand my reasons? My family have always been everything to me. My rage obliterated any true feelings towards you that evening. The world had turned dark when I discovered the truth of what had happened between Mr Whitlock and my sister. In my eyes, at that moment, there was no way I could have given myself to the man that had caused my sister so much pain. She used to cry at night, but when I tried to comfort her, she turned me away. When you spoke of how much more Mr Whitlock seemed to be attached to my sister than she was, I snapped. You had no right to say such a thing, and I stand by that. But I still find it incredibly hard to regret what I had said. What we had both said.

You had only observed Mr Whitlock, the same as I had only observed my sister. What you said was wrong, as there was no way you could tell such a thing; you had seen the pair together all but three or four times. How is that enough to decide whether they love each other? I understand that you recognised Mr Whitlock's feelings as you had spent an endless amount of time with him, but how could you tell whether or not my sister returned the feelings? She hardly showed her true feelings to me.

But Edward, the main reason I am writing this letter is to tell you of the way you had made me feel on our night. On the wedding day, you had made me the happiest woman. My day was mixed with so many emotions that I was blown away, I could hardly stand. But it was all leading to one thing.

When you had carried my into my new home, I did what I always did whenever I had entered your home previously; I stared, open-mouthed, at the beautiful ceiling. But when I heard you chuckle beneath me, it reminded me that something ten times more beautiful was carrying me up the marble steps. The look in your eyes was amazing. It looked like you had won a prize. But that's okay, because I knew I was winning too. I was winning the most amazing thing in the world. I was still to get my head around the fact that you were mine.

I was hesitant. For one moment, may I assure you that it was the smallest moment of my life, I wanted to run. I didn't want to go into that bedroom. I didn't want to completely bare myself in front of a man. I wasn't ready. I wanted to back away from the bed when you sat me down on it. But when I looked at you, and saw the same indecision in your eyes, I realised that there was nothing to be afraid of. But that didn't stop the little voice in my mind from telling me the things I wished not to hear.

Usually, I am not too good at remembering events, but I had noticed, every second of our night came to me easily. It was like I was watching replays in my mind. It was beautiful.

Your eyes seemed so scared. I laughed in my mind, thinking how I must have looked to get you so frightened.

"I love you." I said, trying to urge you on, thinking that I wanted to make you less uncomfortable. And there was just one way to do that. Well, there was only one way that I could think of, because during that night, I was completely focused on giving myself to you. I could think of nothing else as you stepped towards me.

I didn't even look at my new bedroom. All I saw was you, even when I closed my eyes. You kissed me lightly, bending down to where I was sat on the bed. As lightly as it was, it still took my breath away.

As I read back over this letter, I laugh. There isn't really much in here that you don't know. Everything in this letter you saw happen or progress before your eyes, yet by writing our lives down into words, I feel some satisfaction of knowing that you will read this through the eyes of myself. There is a sense of knowing that you will read this, yet not knowing what your reaction will be.

You pushed me backwards gently, deepening our kiss by pressing me into the bed. When I felt your tongue touch my lips, I hesitated once again. I was so nervous, but I think you were too. I think that's why you didn't stop even when I did, because you knew if you did, we would never have our night. And you were completely right to force your tongue into your mouth, and then I stopped thinking. That was the moment that my world completely exploded into thousands of little pieces. I gave my mind to you.

I remember your tongue in my mouth, the way it explored. I was stunned at the beauty of your taste that my tongue was unable to move for a few moments. Then, I came back to life. We battled, with, unfortunately for you, myself winning, and forcing my tongue into your mouth. I felt momentarily disgusted with myself; I have to admit, there was a second which I considered closing my mouth around your tongue, tasting more of you. It seems terribly savage, looking back, but at the time I felt as if I had been starved.

I had hardly registered your fingers trailing up my sides. I felt you place both of your knees either side of me, supporting your weight by your elbows. My mind was telling me that it needed air, but I didn't care. When you pulled away my mind thanked you, but my body cursed at you. Again, when you climbed off the bed, my body cursed at you, wanting more of you.

But when you took off your coat and threw it across the room, my body didn't crave to feel your body, but my eyes craved to see your body. I don't know whether you knew how I had looked at you, but I think, if you had, you may have been a little frightened. I could feel the heat burn my cheeks and the fire rage in my eyes.

When you began to unbutton your shirt after ridding of anything in the way, there was this indescribable need to see you. All of you. And I couldn't think of anything else but needing you in one way or another. Each second you spent unbuttoning your shirt sent flames down to a place that had never been so alive.

I was impatient. You were taking far too long. That was the only reason I could give for standing and pushing the shirt urgently off your shoulders. I feel a fool now for staring at you, but I wasn't thinking. You are so beautiful. The only thing I could think of at all was you. I could never bring myself to wish that I had not stared.

I had my hands on your chest, internally laughing to myself at how sensitive your skin was; amazed at the bumps that rose under my fingertips. I revelled in the feeling of your muscles contracting under my touch. I could have spent my lifetime touching you, exploring every inch available, but it seemed that you had turned impatient.

Your fingers fumbled with my dress, and I mentally blamed Alice and Rosalie for forcing me into such an erratically beautiful dress, resulting in the buttons to be just as erratic and beautiful. When the buttons were finally undone, you stopped. You didn't push it off my shoulders, but you stopped and looked me in the eyes. I knew you were scared, because your eyes mirrored mine.

"It's okay." I whispered into the quiet room, trying to encourage you yet again. You nodded and proceeded to push my dress down. With each new centimetre of skin that was revealed, I had never felt more self-conscious in my life than at that moment. But when I looked up at you, and saw your eyes gleam, I pushed everything apart from you and me into a box, and locked it shut with several different locks, securing each one before coming back to reality, back with you.

I had prepared myself for cold, but my skin was met with a warm room, of which I was delighted. I had never liked a cold room. I closed my eyes, smiling at the warmth, but snapped my eyes back open when I felt your hands disappear from my body. You were still there, but you had taken a few steps back, and closed your eyes. The first emotion was rejection.

"Bella," You spoke for the first time since entering the room. "I don't think I can bear to hurt you." You had told me, not opening your eyes. "If I don't stop now, I don't think I will be able to."

"Then don't. I want to share this with you. Pease take me." I felt nothing but helplessness. You sighed and even with your eyes closed you looked defeated. You cracked one eye open at a time, and I smiled. When you exhaled heavily, I felt beautiful. You made me feel beautiful for the first time in my life. You made me feel desired. You made me feel so many things at once. I felt loved. Thank you.

I stepped out of my dress with my new-found confidence, and walked towards you. Looking back, I don't know how I had done it, but my mind was out of control and any sense of embarrassment was locked away, along with everything else.

Leaning up to kiss you, I placed my hands on your trousers, getting impatient and undoing them swiftly. I'm amazed that my fingers didn't stumble, and I didn't blush at my brave hands. You pushed me away so that you could step out of your trousers, and continued to push me backwards, returning to the bed, re-assuming the positions we had taken earlier.

You broke the kiss, trailing soft kisses down my neck and collarbone. My heart got faster, and my box was rattling, nervousness trying to escape, but I didn't let it. I was glad, for that one moment, that Alice had told me her experience of her wedding night. She had argued for hours with mother that there was no need for me to wear a corset, and I took a quick mental reminder that I was to thank Alice severely. There would have been so much fumbling that seemed completely unnecessary.

When you took the barrier between you and my skin off, I couldn't help but think, just for a second, how much quicker it was compared to what would have been with a corset. As soon as that thought was eradicated, I'm not sure about you, but that was the last thing I actually thought of that night.

When your fingers touched my breast, I gasped. It was such a new sensation, it was so very foreign. My eyes instantly closed and my back arched into you, wanting more. I was thankful when you began to palm my breast, and my lungs seemed to grow smaller, my breaths becoming unruly and erratic.

When you lowered your head, I was confused. I couldn't see what you were about to do, so when you asked me with your eyes for permission, I immediately granted.

"Your so beautiful, Bella." You had whispered, making me feel amazing. My first thought was that you were lying; of course I wasn't beautiful! But you have never deceived me personally. I believed you.

I didn't look down at you, but kept my eyes locked on the ceiling, waiting for a new sensation. When you plucked at my nipple, I cried out. It was… overwhelming, the new sensations you were giving me. I was feeling so immensely pleasured already, I wonder how I didn't burst by the end of the night. So when I felt your hot mouth where your hand had been, I screamed. I couldn't control myself. I was completely incapable of staying quiet, but I think, from the smirk I received after you had finished your ministrations, you enjoyed to her me scream.

I don't recall how, but within seconds of feeling your hands on my body, they disappeared and returned again, only this time, when I felt your body come in contact with mine, there were no items of clothing in the way. I gasped at the feeling on you on my leg, so prominent, and the burning between my legs grew larger than I thought imaginable. Only then did I realise there was nothing on my lower body either. Then, the box burst open.

I felt myself go ridged, and after a few seconds, you noticed too. I'm sorry, but the thing that I dreaded most was finally upon me, and I panicked.

You did the right thing when you kissed me. I calmed, and I gave up again. I realised that this was going to happen, and I wanted it more than anything. The box, yet again, was locked. When you kissed me, so softly, you reminded me that this was you, and you reminded me that you were not just a man. You were mine, and I was ready to prove that to you. I was completely and undeniably ready to make every part of me yours.

"I'm ready." I whispered, wondering whether you heard it; I only just heard it myself. It was strange; hearing my voice. It sounded different, husky, low.

You lifted your face to look at me. I saw your eyes ask me, and there was nothing else I could do but nod. I could see the indecision burn in your eyes again; I could see you were fighting yourself. I pushed myself down onto you, trying to show you I was ready, trying to ignite the fire that had previously been a raging inferno.

You nodded, and pushed my legs open with you knees, moving yourself in-between me. As you focused on your movements, I took that moment to look down. I don't know if you noticed me looking, but I know you heard me gasp. It was all so new to me, and I had never thought something so… big would actually fit. You peppered light kisses all over my face, calming my breathing slightly. My unconscious was worried, I am sure.

When I felt you at my entrance, I quivered. I was scared, exited, but none of it mattered. You didn't move, and when I looked up into your eyes, your eyes locked mine with yours. I couldn't have looked away even if I wanted to.

You pushed in further, and there was just the tiniest pain. I knew that if I told you of my pain you would blame yourself. That is why I write it now, as I want you to see that my pain was needed. My pain was the only way for us to share what we had. It was the inevitable fact of my life, Edward, you must see that.

You had pushed in so slowly, and I thank you. I needed all the time you had given me to adjust. When I felt you at my barrier, I panicked. Alice had spoken to me of it; she had said it was one of the more painful experiences of her life, and that was what worried me immensely. I knew you could feel it too, because your eyes grew darker, questioning. I nodded.

You had chosen the way you thought would be less painless for me, and I can assure you that the pain disappeared much quicker. You pushed through forcefully in one thrust, breaking me. I am sure that if you had gone through slowly, the pain would have been stretched out.

I told myself to be strong. I told myself that you shouldn't see me cry. But I wasn't registering the tears that fell; I only registered the pain. It was ripping me in half, I was sure. When you kissed away my tears, I was brought back to reality, and my eyes opened up again to yours. I couldn't help but smile. You needed to know that I was strong, and the only way I was capable to telling you so was by gritting my teeth and smiling. I don't think I fooled you, but when I moved my hips you responded, of which I was grateful.

When you pulled out, I winced again. I don't think you noticed, but it doesn't matter. It was slow, deliberate. You pulled out completely, your tip brushing against my nerves. When you pulled out I felt empty.

But then, quicker than I expected, you pushed back in again, and closed your eyes. The sounds you made were so sensual. Each grunt sounded like a note in a symphony, each groan accentuated by your thrusts. You let your head fall, placing it in the crook of my neck, burying your face in my hair. I sighed contentedly, and placed my arms around your neck. Our bodies were so slick with sweat and your skin against mine sounded erotic.

I have already tried to write this letter several times, but every time it didn't sound right. I try to explain, but my words don't make sense. But there is no other way to describe it other than feeling completely and utterly in love.

I could feel it building. I tried to keep in my moans, trying not to embarrass myself, but there was no hope. Every moan was loud, my body desperate. But I didn't really listen to myself; I was completely focused on each grunt you made, each time you caught your breath, trying to restrain yourself.

You had lifted your head, maybe feeling my orgasm knocking. 'Look at me' you had told me, and I forced my eyes open. They were so heavy, so lidded with lust and want.

I snapped. I screamed, locking my legs around your waist. I wanted to keep you there forever. I saw stars flashing before my eyes, dancing, but more importantly, I saw you. Your mouth hung open as you released into me, grunting. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I don't know how long I had screamed for, but I know that my throat was dry. It was the most powerful feeling. 'Look at me' you repeated, but I didn't even realise my eyes had fallen shut. I forced my eyes open again, kicking myself at the tears that fell. Again, I couldn't contain myself. But it wasn't the pleasure, but the beauty of what we had shared. I blinked, trying to rid my eyes of the tears that were blocking your face from my view, and when I opened my eyes again, I saw tears fall from your eyes too.

There was a sense being complete. The moments we had together were breathtaking, and I would not change them. I do not wish for anything different to have happened, and I do not wish you had gone about it any other way.

If I was speaking any of this letter to you, I would not have written a lot of what I have. But the pain never really went away.

I only wrote this letter to you because you need to know that just because you hurt me, I still love you. Was the pain not worth what we shared? Do you wish you had not done what you had? Do you wish you had not taken me? If so, then be it. I do not regret a single thing, and you shouldn't either. The little pain was worth the extreme pleasure. I always will. Every moment you have spent with me gives me so much more than the pleasure anyway. You need to see that I love you, and you need to stop sulking and feeling miserable for yourself. It had to happen, sooner or later.

I'm here, and I love you. Please, grasp that.

Love forever, Mrs Edward Cullen.


Authors note; For anyone who was disappointed with that lemon, I'm sorry. It was the best I could do. Be gentle, since it was my first lemon. Anyone actually like it? Let me know.