A few things:

1. This is not the Bella we know and love from Better Now. She's messed up.

2. There are a lot of things in Twilight canon with which I have major issues. This story addresses almost none of them.

3. If I'm going to click on your username and go to a profile that's all OH HAI IM THIRTEEN AND READING UR SEX STORY NAO, then please, for the love of God, allow me to maintain my illusions and don't review. Plus I'd really like to not have FFn shut me down.

And, finally, Twilight and all its recognizable situations belong to Stephenie Meyer.

# # #

"Bella, don't do this. For me. Please." The voice was just a whisper, fading away with the wind in the trees.

"You won't stay with me any other way," I reminded Edward, standing poised on the cliff's edge. The black water churned below. I stopped, suddenly afraid, but then remembered that the sooner I jumped the sooner I could climb to the top again and hear his voice once more. I slipped off my shoes and inched closer, curling my toes around the rocks. I took a deep breath, and leaned forward.


My whole world was pain. It wasn't the sort of pain I'd expected, the pain that came from slapping against the surface tension of the water. It was a lot more specific, located mostly in my head. I wasn't wet, either, I was still on dry land. Something had shoved me sideways just as I'd been about to tumble off the edge. I opened my eyes—when had I closed them?—to see two furious brown eyes returning their gaze.

"You stupid shit," he ground out. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"P-Paul?" I whimpered. "When did you—"

He was staring at me. He didn't say anything, but his jaw dropped open and a dazed look took over the angular face I'd previously only seen glaring through or past me in anger. I felt… hot. As hot as if someone had dipped me in a Jacuzzi. The chill from my damp clothes seemed to evaporate under his gaze—in fact, the clothes themselves might've disappeared too, as he raked me up and down with his eyes. An invisible luminescence seemed to accompany the heat; I could feel something radiating through me from head to toe.

"Why are you here?" I tried again.

"You moronic, selfish little leech fucker!" he roared, picking up where he'd left off. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "What the hell did you think was going to happen down there? That water's so rough that even your precious fucking Jacob wouldn't try to jump today! Are you trying to kill yourself and make it look like an accident?"

"No-o-o," I tried to say, but my head flopping back and forth made it hard for me to talk. "Ow—oh—Paul, stop!"

He froze, and then drew in a shaking breath. His hands trembled as he gathered me up off the ground. For an instant so brief I might have imagined it, he held me against his bare torso, and then set me on my feet away from him with a thud. "If you weren't trying to kill yourself," he growled through gritted teeth, "then can I ask what the fuck you wanted to do? Is this why Jacob had me watch out for you today? Did you tell him you were going to try to win the Darwin award or something? Jesus, did screwing the tick suck out your brains too?"

"I didn't screw Edward!" I shrieked, shoving away the hand he'd left on my waist to steady me. "I told you before, asshole; you—don't—know—anything about me!" The heat had vanished; in its place cold, dark despair burgeoned from the hole in my chest.

He flinched, but he still looked livid. "Who were you talking to?"

"Talking to?" I held my head between my hands, trying to press against the pain. "I… I wasn't talking to anyone."

"Don't fucking lie to me, goddammit," he gritted out, stepping into my space again. I backed away a step; he followed. "Who won't stay with you any other way?"

I felt tears well up in my eyes. My secret joy, my secret shame—one and the same thing, and Paul of all people had to be the one to out me. "That's none of your business."

He snorted his disgust. "Let me guess. The leech. You're talking to the fuckwad. I knew he was telepathic but that's some connection, babe."

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my lips. "You idiot. I don't have a connection like that with him. His powers didn't work on me. I'm the only one they didn't work on. And anyway he couldn't talk back with his mind; he could only hear."

He stepped even closer. I defensively raised my hands to hold him off, but they came to rest on his hard-muscled stomach instead. I could feel his pulse racing under my touch. His chest heaved as he dragged air into his lungs. I'd scared him, I realized with a flash of intuition. He got mad when he got scared; that's all this was. I tried to back away one more time, but my rear hit up against a tree trunk. Cornered.

"If you weren't talking to him, then why did you say that?" he asked, leaning closer, one arm over my head resting on the tree behind me.

Ooh, he was so warm. I'd been cold for months, a year, ever since I'd moved to Forks, and now warmth radiated from his big body, flooding me with comfort from head to toe. My hands didn't feel right where they were; I slid them down his front, then around his waist to pull him closer. No, wait. That wasn't what I wanted to do. I tried to pull away, but he grabbed the wrist closest to his free arm and held it against him, then tugged me nearer, moving up at the same time until I was pressed between his body and the tree. "I don't… know…" I murmured, dazed, and I spoke the truth. My heart began to pound; I realized with a distant sort of wonder that it had returned to its place. "Paul, you feel… I don't understand, but… I can breathe now for the first time in forever."

"Can you?" he asked, affecting disinterest, but I could tell he cared because he rested the palm of his hand just under my collarbone, feeling the air move in and out. More hot spirals pushed through my skin, into the center of my being. I felt like I'd been trapped in winter, and now spring had come with a brutal heat wave.

Paul reached down and clamped his hands on my thighs, under my butt, lifting me up. "So you and glitterboy never fucked, huh?"

"No," I said, taking advantage of our new eye-to-eye position to glare at him again. "Not that that's any of your business either."

"Now that's where you're wrong," he murmured. He turned his head sideways, staring at my mouth like he'd never seen a pair of lips before.

"Why am I wrong?" I could barely force the words out through the ball of fear and excitement in my throat. I wrapped my legs around his torso to steady myself.

"I should go…" he said, but then his mouth was on mine, devouring me. I squeaked in terror; I'd never experienced anything other than Edward's gentle, careful kisses, and Paul apparently didn't share Edward's belief in my fragility. He gripped my hips, digging grooves in my skin with his fingertips, and shoved his pelvis between my thighs. I could feel his penis fully erect, straining to get to me, and to my total surprise it felt right, exactly where it was. I rubbed myself against the hardness, moaning at the sudden vicious ache between my legs.

Paul was cursing, a steady stream of profanity that seemed to have no connection to his actions. He worked his way down my neck with his teeth, hard enough to leave marks, and ripped my shirt up over my head. I gasped and then moaned again at the shock of pleasure when we were skin to skin.

"No bra," he said against my collarbone.

"I didn't want to get it wet," I explained, panting as he hoisted me again and fastened his mouth on my nipple. "Oooh, God, oh, God, what the hell are you doing to me?"

"It's the other way around," he groaned around my breast. "Fuck, oh shit, holy shit…" He reached down and ripped my jeans and underwear straight off of my body, then unbuttoned his own shorts, letting them fall to the ground. I shivered as a blast of wind spattered me with water from the tree branches above us. Paul switched to the other side, suckling so hard I almost couldn't decide if it hurt too badly to be good, but then his fingers gently caressed the breast his mouth had abandoned and I let my head fall back. I clutched his hair, pushing myself into his kiss.

He moved one arm to the small of my back and held me still while the other hand traveled between us, slipping down to the folds between my legs. I cried out when he reached the small bundle of nerves at the top, stroking and rubbing and making me quiver with gratification. "You're better at this…than I am," I babbled, not even hearing the sense of the words till it was too late. He grinned, fierce and hot, and one of his fingers slipped inside me while his thumb kept working where it would do the most good. I dug my nails into his shoulders; he hissed at the pain but didn't stop his hand.

"Paul…" I groaned, as another finger slid up to join the first. "Paul, I don't… even… know you…"

He buried his face in the juncture of my neck and shoulder and nipped my skin; when his teeth closed around the muscle I went limp in submission. "Goddammit… I know…that..." he breathed. "Shit, shit shit oh my holy fuck you're so fucking wet just give it to me give it to me now—"

"Okay," I gasped. I didn't even know what I was saying but I was out of my mind with lust. I had to have him, had to have something filling the yearning emptiness that was getting worse by the second.

He moved his hands away. I whimpered, "No!" when his fingers eased out, and he murmured to me, nonsense words meant to comfort and soothe, as he lay down on the ground and drew me with him. He was on his back; his penis looked positively painful as it throbbed between us.

"You're on top," he instructed, pulling my legs apart so that I straddled him.

"I don't know what to do," I whispered, meeting his hot-eyed gaze with desperation.

"Jesus, you're a fucking virgin?" he exclaimed.

I giggled, suddenly lightheaded with the ridiculousness of the situation. "I don't think that's possible."

"Come here," he said, and all urges to laugh fell away at the deep timbre of his voice. He held my head to his chest with one hand. With the other, he reached down and guided his penis to my opening, which by now felt like it was dripping. He rubbed the head into my softness; we both gasped again at the feeling. I anchored my nails into his skin; he grunted and pushed the tiniest way inside me. I cried out. My nails scratched until they drew blood. The tiny wounds healed over while I watched, as he gritted his teeth and angled his hips to push farther into me. When he got to the barrier of my virginity, I sobbed.

"You want this," he said.

I couldn't tell if he was asking or telling me, but, "Yes," I whimpered. "Yes. Yes. Please."

With one final thrust, he broke through. I sobbed again, a few tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes and dropping down on his chest. He murmured to me again, rubbing the back of my neck and my thighs while I trembled from head to toe. He didn't move, giving me time to adjust. I didn't know if that was possible. Paul. This was Paul inside me. How the hell had this happened?

"You're all right, you're okay," he whispered. His touch was unexpectedly gentle. The pain faded, and all of a sudden everything felt so good. Waves of heat and delight emanated from the point of our joining. It had been six months since I'd even come close to feeling this happy. "Isabella."

Nobody ever called me that. It had always seemed ridiculously fancy for someone as everyday as I, so I insisted on Bella. But coming from Paul's mouth, it sounded as if he were speaking of something indescribably indulgent, a thousand-dollar dessert or a Maserati or anything he'd ever longed for but dismissed as out of his league and far too costly. He spoke my name, and I knew exactly how he thought of me. I looked up; his eyes were so heavy-lidded they were almost closed, but I could see tenderness there.

"Isabella," he said again, then, dreamily, "You're so tight..." He moved his hips, just barely.

"Paul…" I was so close, so close, this was so much better than anything I could do alone. I rotated my hips, pressing against his pubic bone. He sucked air in between his teeth and moved inside me more forcefully this time. The hand not on my head fastened on my ass and shoved it harder against him, pinning us together. I cried out and ground against him once, twice more, and then I was shaking uncontrollably and wailing while the single most powerful orgasm of my life blew through me like a hurricane, leaving me feeling as though I'd been flayed. Cursing so much I couldn't even understand the words, Paul held me by both hips and buried himself to the hilt inside me, coming almost as soon as I finished.

I collapsed on him, panting and weeping. My body twitched with aftershocks of ecstasy and emotion. His arms went around me, and then his hands began stroking me, from my head down to my thighs and up again. He was still hard inside me. I knew that wasn't supposed to stay that way; did werewolves keep it up forever or something because of their metabolisms?

"Come here," he said, and pulled me up to kiss his mouth. I curled my hands between us, letting him hold me steady as his tongue went deep inside, imitating what we'd just done. He sat up, effortlessly lifting me with him, and licked me, from my shoulder all the way up to my ear. I jerked a little in surprise; he grabbed my hair and held me still so he could do it again, and again—over and over until he'd covered my whole neck. It should have been disgusting. It should have felt degrading. It was neither. Slowly, with infinite care, he rolled us till I rested on my back in his arms. He was so much taller and stronger than I that he could keep me from touching the ground almost everywhere but my heels.

"More?" he asked, already moving inside me.

I kept my arms where they were, tucked in between us, letting him support me in his embrace. "Yes," I whispered. "Please." I didn't know what had just happened, but I did know I felt at home inside myself for the first time since my birthday; I couldn't bear to say goodbye to the sensation. He stroked steadily in and out; I concentrated on breathing, loving the fact that I could do so without effort. I barely noticed that I was getting more and more aroused, but finally he laid my head down and reached between us to touch at my most sensitive point. As soon as his fingers scraped across, I convulsed, falling over the edge and taking him with me.

He slipped out of me and down, kissing me again, but way more gently than he had before. His hands cradled my face; his thumbs rubbed my cheeks and cherished my jaw. He planted tiny kisses across my neck, onto my chin, my eyelids, the tip of my nose. It felt like a dream. How could violent Paul be so careful with me, the girl he despised? He pulled away to look into my eyes. I tried to read his expression and failed.

"Isabella," he said for the third time, caressing my hair out of my face.

I didn't correct him; when he said it, it sounded right. "Paul?" I raised one shaky hand to lay against his cheek. "What… what just happened?"

He stared at me, silent, and then asked, "How sore are you?"

I stretched under him. "Not bad, actually," I noted with surprise. "I feel… um, wow. I feel really good."

He sat up, utterly unconcerned with his nakedness, and pulled me up too. Together, we stood and brushed each other off. He reached to pull a dead bunch of pine needles from my hair. "You're a mess."

"So are you," I said, ducking to wipe off his knees with the palm of my hand. "That was really weird."

"Still feel like cliff-diving?" he asked. I gaped at him. "Not by yourself. With me. It might be the best way to clean up without anybody seeing us or wondering what happened—or, you know, smelling us. You can wear my shorts and your shirt after you get out. I'll just phase back to wolf form." When I hesitated, he looked down at the ground. "I know you really wanted to do it. I'll keep you safe." He raised his head again to pierce me with those brown eyes. "I promise."

I was trapped by his gaze, unable to look away. Finally, I managed to say, "Okay. I'll go with you."

"Come on." Paul grabbed the clothes in one hand, including the shredded remains of my pants and underwear, and held my hand with the other. We walked together to the cliff's edge and looked down into the tossing waves. "You sure about this?"

I looked up at him and knew, with unreasonable certainty, that I could trust him to protect me from anything that flew our way. He gave me a tentative smile that sat strangely on his formidable features. I smiled back. "I'm sure." I held his hand more tightly and looked down. "Let's go."

Together, we stepped off of the cliff.