A/N: I don't own Edward, Bella, or anything else in the Twilight universe. Big surprise there.
I intend this to have some S&M and D/s in later chapters. If dark and dominant Edward doesn't give you little chills, turn back while you still can!
Also, be aware that Edward is NOT A TRADITIONAL CANON-STYLE VAMPIRE.
All will be explained in time.
The wind picked up and I shivered.
"Cold, love?" Edward asked, and had his white leather jacket wrapped around my shoulders in a heartbeat.
I shivered again; the inside of his jacket was colder than the crisp fall air. "I don't understand how you can be this cold all the time. Clearly, you're some kind of mutant."
I thought he winced at my comment, but before I could question his pained look it was replaced by a mischievous grin. "Then maybe you should be helping me warm up."
I squealed as he pushed me against a tree and slid his hand under my shirt, ghosting his icy fingers against my rib cage. I tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he continued to tickle my sides, laughing maniacally as I giggled and pleaded for him to stop.
And then it happened again. Our eyes met and he froze, his hand, warmer now, still resting above my hip, his mouth so close to mine that I was carried away by his sweet scent of cinnamon and snow. His breathing deepened to match mine, and the look of desire in his eyes was so intense that I could not help believing that this time, unlike all the other times, he was really going to kiss me. Please . . . My eyelids fluttered shut of their own accord.
But, of course, he didn't. He turned away abruptly, shoving me against the rough bark of the tree as though he wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. I swallowed the inevitable disappointment as he cleared his throat and kicked at some rocks on the field.
"So, uh . . . you started that book I lent you?" I wished he would at least look at me.
"Finished it. It was no Wuthering Heights, but I was a little inspired." Fortunately, I'd regained my composure enough to talk at least semi-coherently, and I had enjoyed the book—I loved literature as much as Edward loved music—but, to be honest, I wasn't feeling particularly high-minded at that precise moment. I was tracing the subtly defined muscles of his upper arms with my eyes, thankful that I had taken his jacket. I was imagining running a fingertip along the perfect line of his jaw and then pressing his lips to mine, gently at first . . .
This is ridiculous. Why don't I just talkto him?Something inside me snapped and I interrupted him, forcing our conversation to a halt.
"Yes, love?" He glanced down at me curiously.
Oh God, oh God. As soon as he looked at me, my frustration evaporated and I suddenly remembered why I hadn't asked him about this before. Oh, right, I'm terrified. I felt a twinge of panic in my gut, but I forged ahead.
"You don't kiss me. Or really touch me or—anything. You say you love me, you hold my hand, you cuddle me for hours, my friends say you look at me like I'm something to eat, and it seems like maybe you want me but then . . ." I trailed off lamely.
He had recoiled a little, and was staring at me with an open expression of panic. "Bella, I—it's not—I do . . . want you. It's—"
He wants me!
I guess, in retrospect, I wasn't reading the signs very well. All I heard was "I want you" and I ignored everything else. I practically attacked him, shoving him against the tree, wrapping my arms around his cool neck and crushing my lips to his. He tasted just like he smelled, of winter and spice. At first, I felt his muscles tense, but he relaxed and moaned into me as my tongue caressed his bottom lip.
I pushed my tongue into his mouth and he growled deeply. Without warning, he wrenched me around so that I was against the tree, pressing the length of his body into me and forcing his leg between mine. His tongue invaded my mouth and I moaned violently, pushing the growing heat in my core against his thigh. He brushed the hair away from my face and I shivered as he ran his tongue down my neck, ending in a deep kiss in the hollow above my collarbone.
And then something happened that I didn't understand, something that I had never felt before. It originated at my neck but spread to my fingertips and toes, like an orgasm growing each time my heart beat, only intolerably more sweet and throbbing and all over my body. I gasped as the intense pleasure pulsed through me, and Edward snarled in response.
"Fuck, Edward," I moaned, not knowing or caring what he could be doing to make me feel this way.
As soon as I said his name, he gave off a stifled cry and leapt away from me. I reached toward him, but he had vanished.
Absently, I brushed my fingers across a wet spot at the base of my neck and my breath caught when I saw what was on my hand. I looked down at Edward's jacket.
It was covered in blood.
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