Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

All plotlines, characterizations, and details in Bring On The Wonder belong to the author: Bronzehyperion. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without the author's authorization.

©2010 Bronzehyperion. All rights reserved worldwide.

This story is rated M for a reason. And there won't be lemon-y reasons for a while. Violence, swearing, religion being made fun of and criticized.


Motherfucking fuck. I was so tired of this shit. So fucking tired.

Edward was staring at me, bewildered perhaps because of the revelation. Silly boy. Had he not seen this coming?

He was disappointed for sure because he made that face a lot; eyebrows creased together in a frown, eyes sparkling with something I could sure as hell not decipher but it didn't resemble something positive. His lips were pressed together firmly.

This meant he wasn't going to talk to me.

I hated the fucking silence he allowed to fill the room. It was worse than have him yell at me.

Silence was judgmental, yelling gave room for reciprocation.

Not that he ever did. Edward never yelled. He never got angry. It probably was a sin to do so.

Edward was so otherworldly in certain ways. He came into contact with people every day and yet he was so goddamn naïve about their motives. People were fucking selfish beings. How could he even believe there was goodness in any of them?

People were rotten.

I was rotten.

And if Edward didn't delude himself so much into thinking there was good inside me, we would not be having these silent stare-offs where I was the culprit that needed redemption and he was the one who could forgive me for my sins.

He didn't even understand why I didn't give a fuck about his morals and why we didn't share any of them.

I disappointed him constantly. And I was tired of explaining myself and pointing out all the differences between us.

"Why did you do it Isabella?"

Now he speaks.

I fucking hated it when he called me Isabella. It meant business. It meant disapproval. It meant he was thinking like –almost - Father Edward and not regular "pretty laidback" Edward. The Edward I had come to know and did not hate. Pretty Laidback Edward was not supposed to be a priest, not supposed to waste his life devoted to the madness of a religion. The biased choices he'd have to make to serve a God who probably didn't give a fuck about most people. The big man up there sure as hell didn't give a damn about me.

And why would he? I'd heard the sermons on forgiveness and shit, but really…when you spend most of your time fucking the men in this town senseless and get paid for it, you probably don't deserve to be cared about or forgiven. After all, I did this willingly. And I was good at it too.

I controlled my body and my mind. There was no fucking religion to cloud my judgment. No other half to control my life and choices. My life was mine to live. Nobody could fucking tell me what to do.

I wanted to snort at my own delusion. Like I had a choice by now. I belonged on my knees, on the streets, face buried in dangling cocks and balls.

When you're a professional fucker, you definitely don't own your life and make decisions freely. I had a big mouth – in more ways than one, trust me – and I knew how to throw a fucking punch if I had to, but I was often told what to do. It was the basic concept of my profession. Shut the fuck up and drop your panties.

Or rather, shut up and fuck.

I looked at Edward, his eyes roaming over me like they sometimes did. This stare I had no trouble deciphering, this I recognized.

I was used to men looking at me this way. Wanting a ticket into my pleasure dome. Fun zone, whatever. I never got off anyway. That was not the point of what they needed and what I could provide.

And no matter how much Edward claimed to be unaffected by women in general – and perhaps me specifically, no matter what that promise of a white collar represented, I knew better. The way he responded physically; it was nothing I hadn't seen before and I had to admit I enjoyed the idea of having that kind of effect on him.

Nothing like a hard-on, eh Father.

This was Edward's little battle between purity and lust. The want was obvious in his eyes and in his pants.

Right now, Edward seemed entranced by my attire, which consisted of a white tank top and black skinny jeans. No bra. My nipples strained against the soft cotton because Edward was too cheap to put the damn heat on in here. Even in the dimness of this room, I could see his eyes lingering on my chest a fraction too long.

Got ya, Father Perv.

I smirked.

"Like what you see?" I taunted him, wiggling my girls a bit. He didn't like it when I pointed out his forbidden desires. It threw him off entirely. He never reprimanded me, he never retorted. He usually changed the subject whenever I teased him about it because he never had a comeback.

"Isabella," he said, his voice soft as a whisper but still the words caught in his throat a little, "why did you do this?"

Sure, forget you ogle me like a sneaky pervert and get right back on topic.

"I wanted to," I simply shrugged. It was not his fucking business who I fucked or why. My body, my job. And yes, my fucking money. I earned it. Fair and square.

"You were staring at my tits. How many Hail Mary's will that cost ya?" I teased.

If he wanted to divert us from the subject of his voyeurism and have the same old conversation on why I fucked men for a living, I was going to do the same.

"You are violating the terms of your probation," Edward pointed out calmly, ignoring my snark.

"Your point?" I asked icily.

"You want to go back to jail?" Edward pointed out quietly.

Been there, done that. Did not want to go back.

"You want to get kicked out of the seminary for inappropriate behavior?" I countered.

He didn't bite. Hell would freeze over the day he did.

Edward just stared at me, trying to silently communicate something I didn't really care about. He wasn't staring at my chest anymore and almost desperately tried to hold my gaze.

I rolled my eyes and looked away. "Is that a threat? You gonna tell on me?"

Edward sighed as he got up. He walked over to me slowly, as if he didn't want to startle me, the crazed animal – the hell beast – who would make a sudden move that could lead to casualties when approached without caution.

"I promised to help you and I want to fulfill that promise," he said solemnly as he stopped in front of me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

On occasion he did this. Touch me. Always innocent, always so fatherly. But his hand was warm and felt good against my skin. I loved the electricity because it made me feel something beyond the numbness I was used to.

I looked up and met his deep jade eyes. At least some part of him was penetrating me.

Wait, what?

Fuck, I didn't want that. I didn't have a fetish doing the almost ordained. I didn't want to fuck Edward.

"No touching, Father. It will cost you," I smirked as I ruffled his hair. He hated it when I did that, even though his coupe looked like he had been permanently stuck in a wind tunnel. It wasn't like I could mess it up further.

"Bella," he warned sternly, but his lips curled up a bit.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was Bella again. I was forgiven, as always. The lecture was over. Almost Father Edward Cullen was gone, my Edward was back.

My Edward? Fuck. No way would he ever be mine. I didn't even want that.

We'll always be two different worlds, him and me.

Heaven and hell.

Angel and demon.

Sinner and saint.

Prostitute and priest.

A/N This is only the beginning. It will all be explained as we go.

This story has been locked in my mind for a while (if it resembles similar stories out there I would not know but I don't steal…this is my idea and will be executed/written as such) But with two other stories and some other activities, I never got around to give it a go. I will try and update as much as I can. I am used to writing long chapters, but some might be a bit shorter, partially out of convenience because it is easier to update that way, especially with 2 other stories still going. Nothing will be left unsaid though, rest assured. There will be swearing, there will be sex (definitely not the lemon-y kind at first) and yes, religion too which I'll try to research at its best accuracy. I mean to offend no one with that but believe me when I say religion is the last thing on Bella's mind. This is the prologue, which is not where the actual story starts.

And Bella will say fuck a lot. The goal is to get Edward to say it too ;)

I don't do begging for reviews. I just hope my regular readers (I think I have a few :) ) will enjoy this. Perhaps a few new readers will too.

If you are a BETA and enjoy BETA'ing...I could use one for this :) PM me.

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I haven't forgotten my other stories, promise.