I borrowed the title from Breaking Dawn.

I didn't think you'd mind, since I also borrowed the characters.

Everything else is mine.




April, 2002

"Does that feel good?" he whispers.

He's between my legs, holding me open with one hand, while the index and middle fingers of his other hand rub and pet me.

It's soft.

The way he's touching me is so soft.

I can only nod my head, too embarrassed to whimper and cry the way I want. Too embarrassed to actually tell him the way it makes me feel.

"I love how wet you get," he says, embarrassing me further. "I love the way it feels on my fingers," his eyes darken, even in the light, "I love the way it tastes."

I close my eyes because his words are too much. But I crave them - I crave the way they make me feel. I love the way he talks to me when we're together like this. I love the way he wants to know...everything.

"Do you know how good you taste?" he asks, his middle finger sliding down to my entrance, pausing, and then pushing completely inside me. "Tell me," he presses. With his words, his hand. "Do you know?"

"No," I gasp, biting down hard on my lip. "I don't."

His head falls to the side, his soft, tousled hair tickling the inside of my naked thigh. He's looking at me...there. He's watching what he's doing so intently. And I'm watching him...growing wetter by the moment. And then he pulls his finger out. Slowly. So fucking slowly. And then, he pushes back inside again. And I'm panting and squirming while I watch him watching his finger as it fucks me and makes me come.

"Do you want to?" he asks, his finger stilling completely.

But I can't make sense of his question - I have no idea what his words mean. I can only focus on the way he feels...the way he looks.

"Answer me, baby," he persists. "Do you want to?"

Each word is separate and succinct. Soft and deliberate...just like the way he's touching me.

"What?" I whisper, breathless. "Do I want to what?"

His head moves in closer. I feel the slight stubble on his jaw and it drags down my over-sensitive skin. He mouth hovers above my pussy. His breath is hot and damp even against my wet skin. He presses down until his nose is against me there. I feel it press against my pubic hair...nuzzling, breathing in deeply. And still, even after all this time, even after everything we've done together, this embarrasses me. But I lose all thought the moment I feel his soft tongue lick me, his warm mouth open and suck me in.

And then, against my overheated flesh, he whispers, "Do you want to know how good you taste to me?"

"I...I...I don't know," I stammer, unable to think about what he's really asking.

Is he really asking me this?

Suddenly, his finger pulls out of me, and he's above me. His legs are straddling me and his cock - his perfect, long, beautiful cock - is resting on my belly. His fingers and hand are wet with me. I see it, slick and shining, in the early morning light that's coming through the window above my bed.

He brings his fingers to my closed lips, but I can't help breathing in. I can smell myself, my own body. It smells soft and pungent. It smells like sex.

Our sex.

"Open your mouth," he whispers, his voice a little rougher than before. "Open your mouth and taste it...suck it."

And I do.

He pushes his middle finger inside and over my tongue. I am surrounded and overwhelmed by the way this makes me feel. Dizzy and light-headed. My tongue licks and my mouth closes around him and sucks. And this is what I taste like - this is what he tastes whenever he licks me and loves me with his mouth.

"Do you see, baby?" he whispers, hovering over me. "Do you see why I love it? Why I love being between your legs? Why I could lick your pretty pussy all fucking day?"

My hands reach up and grab his wrist, almost like I'm trying to pull him closer.

I do see.

I feel like I see everything so much more clearly when he's with me like this.

"You're so sweet," he whispers, his eyes softer as he looks at me, his cock harder as it presses against my belly. "Don't you see how sweet you are, my sweet, sweet girl?"

I open my mouth, his finger slipping out and trailing wetly down my throat.

"Maybe," I whisper. "You make me see and feel so much."

His mouth covers mine and I taste myself again. The kiss is hot and wet and deep, and he groans as his hands cup my face, his fingers in my hair.

"What do you want?" he whispers? "Right now. What do you want?"

I look up at him with wide eyes, and I know that he can feel my heart pounding against his chest.

"You," I whisper. "Right now, I want to taste you."

He groans. It's sexy, and echoes in my ear.

And then he's lifting up, moving higher up and over my body.

His cock is hard and the head of it pressing against my lips.

I lick the tip. It's salty, but I think it tastes better than me.

"You want to suck me, baby?" he asks; his voice sounds pained. I nod my head, opening my mouth as his cock slips inside. "I won't last if I fuck your mouth."

His head falls back, and he hisses.

My hands reach around him, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer.



And I lose myself in the happiness of knowing that I do this to him.

I am the only one who does this to him.

"Fuck, Bella," he cries. "Never stop. I never want to stop feeling this way."




May, 2012

I look at the invitation.

I hold it and turn it over in my hands.

Class of 2002

Ten years,

I can't believe it's been ten years since I finished undergrad.

Ten years since I've seen him.

And it's been nine years, three hundred and sixty-three days since I've heard his voice, felt his arms around me...felt him move inside me.

What if I go, and he's there?

What if I go, and he's not?

I look down at my left ring finger, and I don't know which thought scares me more.





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