S. Meyer owns Twilight.
Sexual appetite or excess (hyper-sexuality, i.e. high sex drive; sex addiction or compulsive behavior)
At first, I thought it was amazing that I had a girlfriend who never "had a headache". I attributed a lot of our intense sex, and the frequency of it, to the honeymoon stage of our relationship. Ya know, can't keep our hands off each other type stuff? It was fucking awesome. Bella wasn't shy about her body, and walked around my apartment completely naked after we fucked, which was fine by me. Most of the time it was her tits bouncing as she walked toward me, glass of water in hand, that lead to round two or even three.
A year into our relationship, I was tired - from working long hours, from going to school on top of it, and most of all, from pushing her away.
I wondered how in the hell it had come to this. I didn't ever think I would find myself having a conversation like the one I was having now.
"I told you, Bella. I'm tired. I don't know how else to explain it to you." My eyelids were heavy in the dark of our bedroom, and I was on the verge of giving in, just letting her straddle me, ride my dick until she came and then passing out. She didn't seem to mind, but I fucking hated how shitty it made me feel to do that to her. I was beginning to wonder if she even noticed that I wasn't really present during those times.
"You're always tired," she spat back at me. Petulant as ever, Bella folded her arms across her chest and huffed. I felt the mattress move as she squeezed her thighs together, squirming and turning to her side. "You don't understand, Edward. I'm dying here. It's been, like, two days and you've barely touched me."
I could feel her stare. I knew she was pouting and and trying to break me with the sad eyes. It worked sometimes, so she took advantage. "Do you hear yourself? Two days? Really? Isn't it me whose supposed to be horny all the time? Begging you to blow me after you cook me a steak and rub my feet?"
"That's a fucking ridiculous stereotype. I hate it when you say stuff like that. Makes me feel like a slut or something. Women get horny too, Edward. Don't be so fucking dense."
"I'm not being fucking dense. I'm being serious. I don't understand why you're like this."
"Don't start, okay? You didn't seem to mind when we first met. If I remember correctly you told me how fucking lucky you were to find a girl like me. Wasn't that what you said, Edward? A girl like me. Other guys would kill to have a girlfriend with a sexual appetite like mine. Men have always loved that about me!" She punctuated her point by slapping the empty space between us.
I was pissing her off and that could make this played out conversation go one of two ways. She would either get angry enough, turning her back to me, leaving me to finally fucking sleep – a rare occurrence, or her libido would only increase tenfold and she'd become aggressive. We would fight louder and harder until I gave in. It doesn't even seem to bother her when I tell her how fucked up this scenario is and how seriously fucking sick of it I am. Doesn't bother her one bit.
I rubbed my hands over my face and blew out a resigned breath. "Fine, Bella. Fine. But I'm not even hard." I laid there like a dead fish, hoping she'd give up.
Bella didn't ever give up.
She whipped the blankets off the both of us and headed directly for what she wants. She doesn't even kiss me. That shit bothers me. A lot. I feel her warm mouth on the head of my dick and moan involuntarily. Betrayed by my own body. Her licking and sucking and teasing does the job, and I'm hard as a rock in minutes. She straddles me, takes my dick in her hand and buries it deep inside her. Her moan is deep and guttural, as if she's been dying for this. Like it's water and she's dehydrated.
It's not right. We had sex for almost two hours just a couple of days ago. I worry about her, about how she needs this more than she seems to need me.
I keep my eyes closed and hold onto her forearms while she rolls her hips, moaning and groaning with the movement. Physically, it feels great, but inside it feels terrible.
It's always fucking. I can't remember the last time we made love. I doubt she wants my love, not as long as she has my dick.
I'm going to come any second, so I tell her as much. She's close; I can feel it and hear it in her breathing.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna come so fucking hard. God, I love this. I fucking love it…" she says with ragged breaths, trailing off and throwing her head back as she orgasms. Suddenly she becomes motionless, frozen above me. This is what she does. She goes somewhere else.
I feel like shit again when I come inside her. I can't help it. When her muscles tighten around me I explode. She doesn't seem to even notice. I try to pull her against me, to hold her, but she's rigid and unmoving.
"Baby, come here," I ask, begging.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," she says absently. She moves off of me, no kiss or 'I love you', and leaves our bedroom. I hear the bathroom door shut behind her and then, just like every time before this one, she starts crying.
This isn't right.