I recently took part in the PTB Smut University, which I thoroughly recommend. This writing was a result of a one of the writing exercises. Originally Bella's dirty dream from the beginning of Chapter 16, it's been extended to something more detailed and I decided to post it here as an outtake. Enjoy.

This unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

The ghost of his laughter against the skin of my neck sends shivering sensations up and down my spine. His fingers follow the shivers, tracing each of my vertebrae one by tingling one, down to the small of my back where they linger to tease the dimples at the base where my tank top has left my skin bare. Then they inch in tortuously slow increments upwards again. Up and down, up and down, until I am half crazy with the feeling.

I whimper needily and press back against him, forcing my back into contact with the lithe, defined contours of his shirtless chest. He laughs again – a soft smoky sound – as his fingers, unable to continue with the torture of my back, drift to the skin above my hips bones. There he starts the gossamer soft stroking again, in circles this time, and my stomach clenches in reaction.

When I can't help but squirm against him, his hands begin to drift up my sides. I should have known that he would have the upper hand in this. I mean, doesn't he normally? This thought cuts off abruptly along with my breathing as his fingers hover with aching slowness on the underside of my breasts. Here they hover, but make no further progress.

"Edward," I whine, as much to say his name as to hear his reply.

"Yes, love?" he says against my ear, before pulling back.

"Edward!" I protest the loss of contact with his chest, and he chuckles as his mouth sets off on the path that his fingers traced earlier. Cool, soft kisses anoint my skin in a trail down my spine. His mouth lingers on the small of my back, placing tiny little kisses into the dimples where his fingers previously teased.

I gasp when I feel his tongue retrace the path that his lips took, touching my skin were where it is left bare by my clothes. He takes a slow meandering path, until he reaches the side of my neck. Unable to stand this level of sensation without moving, my back arches. I am hopelessly unable to smother the groan that escapes my lips, or the way my body flexes to be in tighter contact with his. His answering groan is a soft feral noise breathed against the skin of my neck.

I try to roll to face him, but his hand on my hip stops and steadies my movement. I am mesmerised into stillness as his large, strong hand tightens against my hip, before sliding down towards my knee, over my calf then back up my thigh.

"Uugh!"

I jerk in reaction as his hands almost, but not quite, climb to between my thighs. Edward's long fingers linger there, stroking restlessly like he is waiting for something. I want to turn around desperately and can't. There is something dangerous and exciting about being held against him like this, hearing and feeling his uneven breathing, and knowing it is me who's causing his response.

"What do you need, Bella?" he asks, honey toned but with an underlying urgency that I don't miss. I'm not the only one who is losing control here.

Rather than vocalise my response, I let my body speak for me and undulate my hips back against the cradle of his. A thrill of illicit expectation curls in my stomach when his body answers with an upwards flexing of his hips and a soft growl.

The muscles of his chest shift like steel under silk when I jerk back against him, taking back the contact that he denied me earlier. I smile when I feel his hand return to my hip to pull me tighter to him. Shifting my hips again experimentally, I moan softly when he again mirrors the movement and hisses. Feeling for the evidence of his arousal against me makes me begin to unravel deliciously. I respond with another thrust and twist of my hips as I seek the friction I instinctively need.

"Bella," he groans my name, and I answer with a groan of my own, but his hands are suddenly clamped against my hips, stilling the movement I was enjoying seconds before.

No, he can't stop now, not when we've managed to go so far... To finally have this level of intimacy between us only to have him stop is too cruel a loss. He can't stop there, I won't let him...

"What do you want, Bella? Tell me," he asks, quiet and commanding.

I tremble against the strength of his body, and I feel my excitement between my thighs as one of his large hands moves to my stomach, pulling me back against him when I tremble again.

"Be still," he murmurs, and I whimper trembling even harder. "Hush, love, hush. Calm down. Talk to me, tell me what you want..." I can feel him fighting for control as his hands tremble slightly against my skin.

"You, I need you..." I whisper, feeling the desire for him melt inside my stomach, ready for him. Ready for us to be joined as one, finally.

The groan that he makes is almost feral, and the sudden buck of his hips against me is much rougher than before, and followed by another and then another.

I don't recognise the noises I am making as coming from me, but I can't stop them, and wouldn't want to even if I could. This is how he makes me feel, this outburst of mewls and grunts, twisting muscles and overheated skin. This is our potential; the next step for us and I have wanted it from the first moment that his chilled lips ever touched mine.

His hands tighten, and I feel his breath against the back of my neck, his mouth against my cheek, ear, the side of my neck. I arch to give him better access, twisting my fingers in the hair at the back of his head to hold him against my too hot skins. He makes another groaning noise, which is almost a growl, and I feel centre of my femininity clench in reaction. The pace of Edwards thrust increase in response.

Close, I'm so close to something – he's pushing me higher and higher towards some eclipse of sensation that I can feel building in my belly. Then suddenly he is gone, the hands on my stomach suddenly release me and I feel the shift of the mattress as he puts distance between us.

I roll to face him quickly. He lies still, hands clench in fists at his sides. The position seems out of place – so aggressively distant – while my heart is still hammer from the contact of his skin against mine, and the memory of his breathy groans is still alive in my head. But he makes no move to touch me, as his body lies still as stone and the warmth of our earlier contact fades between us like a too sweet dream half forgotten after waking.

There is tension in every line of his body, stress in the rapidness of his breathing were there had been passion only moments before. I see doubt in his previously molten eyes, and it chills me. A lamenting plea repeats in my head, over and over. Don't do this Edward, don't. Not when we have come so close, please. Don't do this.

Even frozen as he is by his own self doubt, he's beautiful. I sight to make artists or angels weep. Lean, and long muscled like the wild cats that he prefers to hunt, the moonlight washes over his pale skin, sneaking in through my slightly open drapes. Flowing over his skin like the touch of a lover. I'm jealous that it is allowed to touch what I have so often been denied. My eyes follow the path that the muted light takes over his body. Over the curve of his calf, the strength of the muscles of his thighs, the dip of hip above the waist band of his boxers.

He groans my name suddenly, and shifts onto his back, and I realise that my hand is moving along the same path that my eyes followed. His hands capture mine as my fingers are caressing the perfect curve of his hip.

My eyes lift to his, desperate pleas ready to spill out of my lips, but I see something in his coal black eyes that makes me hold my tongue; vulnerability rather than denial, and fear rather than iron-willed control.

I close my eyes against the temptation of his beauty laid out before me, and I try to control my too fast breathing, failing miserably. Repetition of several deep, labouring breaths brings a little calm to my over excited body.

I pull against the restraint of his hands caging mine. When his fingers relax, I twine mine with his and open my eyes, unsure of what to say now that the heat from my somewhat hormone driven behaviour is beginning to cool. As I tip my head down slightly, letting my hair drift down around my face to form an insubstantial shield against my embarrassment, Edward's other hand comes up to cup my cheek, and I press my face into the cool contact of his skin as he sits up next to me.

"You are the most exquisite creature I have ever come across in my long life. I haven't the words to express what you make my body feel, but–" His sudden hesitation has me looking up at him, embarrassment forgotten. "I was losing control ... it was too much, for now."

I search is face, and find only honesty.

Blushing, I never the less push for the assurances that I need. "For now?"

He brings both hands up, and brushes my hair back from my face, as a soft almost wanton smile warms his previously strained features. "For now, I swear. I love you with everything that I have in me. Having known this, felt this between us...I couldn't go back to denying my cravings for you. I want us to move forward."

I move forward, pressing myself into his arms, and let my body melt into contours of his chest like the jealous moonlight had done before. Edward lays back down with a content sigh, smoothing his cool hands up and down my back. The contact is soothing now, rather than teasing, and I feel lethargy sink into my muscles.

"I love you," I murmur sleepily, and then repeat the same sentence that I have said every night since we returned from Italy. "Don't ever leave me."

He replies with the same promise he makes every night to my demand."Never, my love, never again."

A feeling of sleepy contentment sweeps over me, and I fall in to the blackness of oblivion with the sensation of Edward's hardness still pressed against my thigh as a promise that we will continue to move forward, together.