Taste of the Forbidden Contest
Title: Silence of Sin
Genre: Romance / Angst
Word Count: 10,181
Pairing: Edward X Bella
Summary: The one woman Edward desires is the one woman he shouldn't. When a surprise guest arrives at his family's summer retreat, lines are blurred and lives are irrevocably changed.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. Rated M for sex and language.
Silence of Sin
The moist air of summer attached itself to Edward's skin like pudding—thick and sticky. He dabbed at his forehead for the thousandth time with the bandana and pushed away from his chair.
"I'm going down to the water to cool off."
His mother smiled and waved him off. "Go on. Have some fun. It looks like the beach is starting to fill up finally."
He nodded, not caring, and made his way down the sand, walking aimlessly. He regretted his decision to give in to his mother's desire to have him join them at the beach for the summer. He'd had other plans. His friends were all touring Europe—partying and exploring, while he wasted away on a deserted beach with his mother and stepfather.
He was disgusted.
Honestly, he was just bored. He was bored with his family, his life, and especially the lack thereof. He wanted booze-ridden nights and easy women. He wanted to wake up next to some gorgeous foreign beauty and not remember how he'd gotten there. The lack of stories he'd have to share when fall rolled around embarrassed him.
He'd spent the better part of a year studying and working his ass off. Sure, he'd gone to parties and had his fair share of women, but for the most part, he'd been all business. Letting loose and throwing caution to the wind enticed him, and he knew for a fact there was little adventure to be had in the secluded little shore side town his mother adored.
He walked into the waves until the water hit his knees, and then bent, diving into them and out into the ocean.
The current pulled him out, tugging him toward peace and numbness. The chattering and polite giggles of his mother and the other ladies in town were slowly suffocating him. His stepfather lent little solace to his plight, too busy with transactions and mergers and telecoms to pay any attention to him. Not that he really cared, anyway. He had little in common with Carlisle, and that was fine.
The thrashing of the waves beat against his back, and he turned to make his way back toward the shore. It felt good. The wet sinking sand beneath his feet molded with each step toward hell, but he continued on like a robot, knowing his mother would be calling out for him soon.
The sun was starting to set, and the sun porch where he'd left his mother earlier was empty. It was better that way. He was so frustrated and disgruntled that he knew he'd just end up hurting her feelings… again.
He could hear her in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. The house smelled of roasted chicken and fresh vegetables from the farmer's market. They'd spent hours trolling the aisles earlier that day, and now he was looking forward to seeing what sort of concoction his mother would come up with. She was a wonderful cook, something he missed terribly while away at school.
"Edward, is that you?"
He peeked his head into the kitchen and knocked on the door frame, gaining her attention. "Yeah, Mother, it's me."
She turned and smiled, wiping her hands on the cherry patterned apron she had tied around her waist. "I'm glad you're back! Just in time for dinner. Go wash up." She turned back to the oven, only to turn back around quickly. "Oh, before I forget, Carlisle's sister will be joining us for the summer! Isn't that nice?"
He wrinkled his brow, confused. "She is?"
"Yes! I think it'll be nice to spend some time with her. It's been so long."
I shrugged. It made no difference to him. He didn't know the woman, and as far as he was concerned, he had better things to worry about. He needed to find something, anything, to fill his time while he was there. He was losing his mind.
"I'll be down in a little bit."
After a long hot shower, one that gave him a few minutes of much needed privacy and the time to properly jerk off without having to worry about his mother walking in, he got out, dried off, and dressed to go downstairs for dinner.
Dinner at the summer house was always a casual affair. It was the best part about being there, in Edward's opinion. His mother wasn't usually very stuffy, but she was still a groomed socialite, and she considered dining to be her forte. She loved entertaining, having the best of the best to her house to share her love of gourmet and exotic fare. Esme Cullen came alive in the company of others.
He loved her for it. His mother was as smart as she was beautiful. She had always been his rock—his constant supporter and biggest fan.
The conversation was stilted and awkward. Edward wasn't sure what was going on between his mother and father, but he didn't feel like dealing with it. He was too busy thinking about seeing Bella again.
The first time Edward met Bella, he'd been a scared little boy of six. It was the day his mother married Carlisle, and he was emotional and insecure. He sat on his grandmother's lap almost the entire time, his mother too pre-occupied with her new husband to keep him company.
Sometime after the cake was cut, a beautiful lady came to sit with him, scraping the frosting off her cake and layering it on top of his piece. It made him giggle, and he'd wondered who the silly lady was. She covered her lips with her finger, letting him know it was their little secret.
She watched him play with his Gameboy, asking him silly questions about the characters and about his top scores. He smiled a toothless smile and decided that he liked the lady named Bella very much. When she asked him to dance with her, he followed her to the dance floor and giggled when she lifted him off the floor and swung him around. It was the same for the rest of the night, the two of them in their own little bubble. It was only later that he learned that the pretty lady with the bouncy hair was to be his aunt.
Esme adored Bella. She was so happy to have a sister-in-law, someone to share things with and spend time with on the holidays. She was encouraged by the fondness Edward had for her—he was such a reserved boy, so quiet and withdrawn after the death of his father. She looked forward to being a part of a family again, having a father figure for Edward, and an aunt for him to look up to.
She was disappointed, as was Edward, when Bella decided to go to school on the other side of the country. She was a bright girl, though, and with Carlisle's encouragement, she headed off to an Ivy League university to follow her dreams.
The visits were few and far between, and no one was more disappointed than Edward. Soon, the memory of the beautiful lady with the laugh that was more of a snort became distant and fuzzy. It would be many years before he got to see Bella again, but when he did, it was memorable indeed.
Once they were done with dinner, Edward excused himself and decided to roam the boardwalk. It was his escape from the boredom. It was alive, crawling with tourists, lights, sounds and life. He spent a lot of time people watching, getting lost in the lives of others. He wanted to put himself out there, but he was just too wound up.
He wanted to leave. He wanted to tell his mother that he was an adult, and spending the summer with his family was just not what he wanted to do anymore. He wouldn't, of course, knowing that he couldn't handle his mother's disappointment.
He finally found a bench at the edge of the pier. He'd come out to watch the boats regularly. Even though he wanted to join his friends, he had to admit that the lure and appeal of the ocean was intense. He'd always loved it, and when Carlisle bought the house on the beach, he'd also purchased a fifty-eight foot luxury fishing boat.
At the time, Edward had been thrilled. The boat was amazing, and the trips out to sea were incredible. As a young boy, the boat offered a chance for him to bond with his stepfather. They were trying to find a common ground, and fishing became their passion.
They'd taken the boat to Mexico, deep sea fishing for Marlin. They'd also spent long weekends at sea, just enjoying the open water and the company of each other. As Edward got older, he'd had quite a few wild weekends with his friends—without Carlisle's permission.
Before he knew what he was doing, his feet were carrying him toward the marina. It was a short walk, and the brisk air felt good on his over-heated skin. The weather was at its peak—hot and stiff, and lingered into the evenings.
It wasn't hard to spot the Marie. She was a beauty—tall and grand, crisp and white and grandiose in comparison to the other boats docked there. He climbed on and let himself melt into the soft cushions on the deck. He didn't have his key handy—something he'd need to remember the next time he decided to visit.
He'd dozed off, letting the dark star-littered sky lull him to sleep. He knew exactly why he was so twisted up. His mind was on an auburn-haired bombshell that he'd had trapped in his subconscious and fantasies for so many years.
It was the summer of Edward's thirteenth birthday, and the fifth consecutive year that the Cullen family spent the summer at the house by the shore, that he once again saw Bella. Riddled with raging hormones and fascination, he was completely infatuated all over again, but for reasons separate from those he had when he was a little boy.
Bella carried herself like no other woman he'd ever seen before. She was full and curvy and soft in all the right places, and the clothing she wore defined every dip and arch of her body.
Bella came to the shore to relax. She was starting an internship in Europe—much to the dismay of Carlisle, but Edward was absolutely entranced with her. She was bright and witty, beautiful and sexy and because of her constant presence, Edward's hormones went into overdrive. That summer, he and his undying erection became the best of friends.
He found himself obsessed, addicted to her attention, and enthralled with every move she made. He followed her, stalked her, and spied on her. He'd throw himself into every conversation, watched her sunbathe on the deck, drooling like the horny pubescent boy that he was. Daydreams haunted him, taking over his days, and more often than not, he'd have to excuse himself, only to retreat to his bedroom to take care of his constant situation in his pants.
She was sweet to Edward, possibly making his state of discomfort even worse without even trying. She'd ruffle his hair, tell him how handsome he was, ask him about school, and spend long afternoons collecting driftwood and sea glass on the sand while they talked. He ate it up… craved it. He sought it out at every turn, purposely doing things to impress her and garner her attention. She was everything, everywhere, and all around him.
All he could think about was Bella.
Unfortunately, his curiosity and fixation on her brought him to her bedroom door one night. It had been balmy out, much too cool for him to wander the boardwalk like he usually did, so instead, he'd stayed at the house, losing himself in mindless television in Bella's absence.
He had no idea where she'd gone off to that night, and it took every bit of restraint he had not to follow her out in the peach halter-tied sundress she'd worn. She'd excused herself from the dinner table once she'd picked at her food, and informed them that she was going out for the night.
Esme wished her a good time, while both Carlisle and Edward were hesitant to let her leave the table. As far as the family knew, she hadn't made any friends while in town, so going off on her own was a little out of character. Esme waved them off, told her to go out and be young, enjoy her freedom. Edward had never wanted to make his mother shut up more than he did in that moment. He didn't like what she was insinuating, and he really didn't like the sly smile and wink she threw Bella's way as she walked out the door.
His parents retired early that night, locking up the house and turning off all but the porch light, leaving it on for Bella. He was glad. He was unnerved and anxious and wanted to be left alone. His concentration was for shit and his ears were keen to any all noises as he waited for Bella to return.
At some point, he'd fallen asleep on the couch, but woke when he heard the stairs creaking and protesting from footsteps. He jolted up and turned his head to listen for Bella. When he heard her bedroom door close with a swift click, he cautiously made his way toward the stairway, eager to catch a glimpse, a sound… anything.
He was just closing in on the bottom step when he heard the door to her room open. He splayed himself against the wall on the other side of the stairs, hidden away and out of sight. There was a giggle, and then the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing and the water flowing from the faucet in the sink. It was only a few seconds, but he was petrified that he'd be caught, and wished he had a better idea on how to effectively spy on her.
There were more doors, opening and shutting, and then nothing. The house was still again. He crept up the stairs, heading straight to her door and pressed his ear against it. He jumped back, surprised, when he heard the obvious sounds of a man's deep grunts, and the sweet, breathy moans of Bella's replies.
His heart shattered into a million pieces, shards and partials scattered about in his chest, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He knew what fucking sounded like. He'd unfortunately heard the sounds of his parents going at it once or twice, but he was also familiar with free porn on the internet.
She had a man in there, in her room, and they were fucking. His Bella, his passion, his dream girl, was on the other side of the wooden entrance giving herself to someone else.
He was heart sick and completely turned on.
Edward couldn't help that the sound of the beautiful woman's moans of pleasure affected him. His dick had a mind of its own. With a shaky breath, he moved closer to the door once more, pressed the side of his face against it, and pushed a hand down his shorts, grasping his erection tightly.
For more than twenty minutes, he stood at that door and listened as the lucky bastard took Bella over and over again. Roughly, from the sound of things. The way the furniture shook, and the loud slap of skin echoed, he was surprised his parents hadn't heard.
For that, he was glad because he would have no way to explain away the fact that he was eavesdropping at her door, tugging and pulling at his meaty cock while Bella was fucked by the man. He closed his eyes. He imagined it was him, slamming into her heat, pushing her and making her cry out for him. Of course, he'd never had such a vivid picture when he'd masturbated before. He'd picture a cute chick from school, maybe some girl he'd seen on TV, or sometimes nothing at all. He'd just play with it until he came. Simple as that.
This time, everything changed for him. In him. He wished more than anything that he was a man, someone Bella wanted to fuck, suck, and beg for. And Lord was she begging.
Oh, God, please.
With a stiff jerk, his body shook as he filled his hand and boxers with the product of his orgasm. One thing was fact. He'd never come so hard in his life. It'd almost brought him to his knees.
Deciding that it was a terrible idea to stay put, he wiped the mess on his pants and stealthily moved toward his room on the other side of the hallway.
He didn't close the door all the way, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise and pulled his shorts and boxers off in one swift motion. He grabbed a towel off the floor, wiped himself off, and tugged a pair of fresh boxers up his legs.
He was physically and emotionally exhausted and fell against his mattress with a long, drawn out sigh.
Those memories were always with him. Everything triggered them. They were the reason for the preference he had for petite brunettes—not that he'd ever chased away a buxom blonde, but when given the choice, he'd hunt for the girls with taunting brown eyes and curvy hips. Edward wasn't proud to admit that he'd close his eyes while he was inside of those girls and image they were someone else. He only heard her throaty moans and lustful sighs. It was his name he'd hear, in her voice, when those faceless girls cried out after he'd fucked them senseless. No, he wasn't proud at all, but it was out of his control.
At the thought of it, he reached down and palmed his cock through his shorts, rubbing relentlessly to relieve the ache that started the moment he heard his mother utter her name. Just knowing that she'd be close—close enough for him to see, smell, and hopefully touch-made him incredibly hard. There was no way the ache was going away, and he was alone, so without another thought, he pushed his hand underneath the fabric and grasped his throbbing hard-on.
He pushed his shorts down over his hips and when the cold air hit his sensitive skin, he hissed. It felt good—the fire inside of him was too much. He slid his hand up and down, up and down, rubbing his palm over the head before descending down again, grazing his balls.
"Fuck," he groaned, the pain lessening a bit as he stroked harder and harder.
A creak from beside him caused him to stop his ministrations. He held deadly still, looking back and forth in the dark, trying to focus in the black of the night.
"Who's there," he called out, stunned that someone caught him in such a compromising position.
Logically, he knew there was no way someone was on his boat, but there were several boats anchored nearby, and anyone could walk along the wooden dock and catch him. They wouldn't see much, truth be told—it was far too dark—but it didn't stop the paranoia from seeping into his bones.
A figure came into view, a delicate, petite bit of a girl—woman. Edward gasped, surprised and more than a little turned on that she'd been watching him.
"Don't stop," she whispered into the night. "Please."
A strangled cry escaped his lips as he tugged at himself, twisting and squeezing the length of his cock. He watched as she swayed across the deck of the boat, out of the shadows until she was right in front of him. He still couldn't see her, but he could see her silhouette well enough. Her hair fell over her shoulders like a mink blanket—full and wavy, tousled by the sea wind. Her hips were plump, curved and full, and her tiny waist called to him, begging for his fingers to dig in and hold on as he fucked her.
She was speechless. The sight of Edward touching himself excited her like nothing she'd ever seen before. She could see how strong—how beautiful he was. Underneath the moonlight, she could see every inch of his chiseled face, every shallow breath he took. She knew she was but a shadow to him—she preferred it that way. The mystery was enticing. Being a faceless desire to him was the sexiest thing she'd ever felt. Something drew her to him, something primal and deep inside of her. Something she'd thought was long gone… the want, the yearning.
She'd stood in the dark and watched him, followed him. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. The pull was too strong, and she wanted him… wanted him more than anything she'd ever wanted before. It'd been so long since she'd felt the lure of passion—of pure need.
Edward was wound so tight that he was ready to explode. He was afraid of embarrassing himself like a school boy in front of her—the sinful beauty in front of him—but there was nothing to it. His body tensed, his hand tightened around his hardness, and he came in heavy spurts against his stomach.
"Oh fuck," he groaned, stroking himself slowly as he finished.
She was beside him when he opened his eyes. He gasped when he felt her mouth around his member, shuddering when she sucked on him softly, reverently. He was spent, but that didn't stop her. She kissed all around him, gently rolling his balls in her hand and moved her way up his stomach and toward his chest. His head reared back, his eyes closed. The feel of her closeness was almost too much.
She was like an apparition—too good to be real. At that point, he wasn't even sure if he was dreaming or not. Things like that didn't happen—at least not to him.
"I've never seen anything more beautiful than you touching yourself," she whispered in his ear, letting her tongue peek out to taste his salted skin. "I could only imagine how you'd feel inside of me… my pussy instead of your hand."
Her breasts were right in front of him when he opened his eyes—her legs thrown over him as she straddled him. Instinctively his hands went to them, caressed them, molded around them and squeezed. They were glorious—full and pert, just enough to fill the palms of his hands. The sound of her mewls and moans set him off, and suddenly touching them was not enough. The top she was wearing was cut low enough for him to taste them, and so he did.
She began pushing against him, the soft satin fabric causing a delicious friction on his cock. He was hard again—faster than he'd ever recovered. He was in awe of her.
"I have to go," she said, so soft that he almost thought he was imagining her words.
Inside, he was screaming. No! He wanted nothing more than to take her, keep her, and have her until he wasn't able to breathe.
She sighed, sadly. "I wish I could, cher, but I cannot stay. Thank you… thank you for sharing this with me."
She slid off of him, straightened her skirt, turned and walked away without another word. At first, Edward was stunned stupid. Once he gathered his bearings, he pulled up his pants and fled after her, tripping over the edge of the boat in his haste. Once he was on the wooden planks of the dock, he looked back and forth, but she was nowhere to be found. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth, as if she never existed.
He began to question his sanity, and after shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed back toward town.
That night, he was plagued with dreams of a raven-haired beauty with ample breasts and a delectable mouth. He slept restlessly, completely aroused and completely confused.
The next morning the smell of bacon and warm toast woke him. He was groggy from sleeping little and grouchy after not being able to have what he wanted so badly. He wanted to avoid breakfast all together and run back to the boat and search for his lost lady love. He wanted to trap her and make love to her as the ship sways on the water.
When he cleared the last step of the stairway, an uncanny chill ran up his spine when he heard the beautiful tinkering of a most familiar voice. Goosebumps pricked at his skin as realization floods his pores.
Esme was thrilled to find Bella at the kitchen counter pouring coffee when she walked into the room when she woke. It'd been so many years that she hardly recognized the beautiful girl in front of her. She'd become a true woman, almost a stranger to her now. She couldn't wait to catch up and learn everything there was to know about her sister-in-law. She hoped they could forge a stronger bond now that she was there.
Bella wasn't sure what she was doing in that house. She'd stayed away for so long that she now felt like an intruder—a fraud among strangers. There was a lure, however, one she had denied for a long time, and she knew she could no longer stay away. Curiosity and defiance strengthened her need to be set in the circle of the Cullen family.
She'd spend most of the morning with Esme, catching up and filling her in on her travels. She liked Esme, even though she barely knew her.
When she looked up and saw that Edward was watching them as they laughed and talked over coffee and scones, she couldn't help but give him a smile that only he would understand. His eyes were dark, and she could sense the anger he felt toward her and her betrayal. She intended on coming clean—telling him that it was her on the boat, but she couldn't bring herself to do it after what they'd shared. It would have tainted it, and she wanted to hold that for as long as she could.
"Edward," Esme sang, waving toward Bella with a smile. "Isabella arrived late last night. You remember Isabella, don't you?"
His eyes never left hers as he gave his mother a swift nod. "Welcome, Isabella," he said tightly. "If you'll excuse me, I have some things I need to take care of this morning."
He turned to escape. It was obvious that he was angry and uncomfortable. That was never Bella's intention. She felt horrible for hurting him. He was special to her—she never wanted to see that look in his eyes. She remembered a time when he adored her—hung on every word she muttered and every step she took. She lived for those moments, held on to them when she was alone. No one had ever made her feel as important as Edward had.
"Why don't you take Isabella along? I'm sure she'd love a tour of the town, show her around a little bit."
Esme's tone left no room for argument. She was insisting, and felt that Edward was being rude. She couldn't understand it. Edward always loved Bella. She didn't expect the rude behavior he was exhibiting toward their guest—their family. She wouldn't tolerate it, and Edward knew it.
"Fine," he said stoically, never turning around to acknowledge either of them.
Bella scrambled up from the table and ran to her room to change. She wanted to explain things to him, make him understand that it was just impulsive on her part. There was too much at stake if he were to blow up and anyone found out. She had to make things right.
It took her all of five minutes to throw on a casual sundress and her sandals before heading back downstairs. Edward was waiting for her at the door, flipping a set of keys in his hand. He didn't look up when he heard her, but opened the door and headed outside, the expectation that she follow obvious.
She did follow him. It was difficult keeping up with his long strides, but she knew he was mad and kept her mouth shut. She had no idea where they were going, but was afraid to ask. She had a feeling he was ready to tell her where to go.
She was stunned, however, when the bobbing of the boats in the marina appeared. Was he going back to the scene of the crime? To torment her? Accuse her? Confront her? She took a shaky breath and straightened her back. She would take the backlash. She deserved it. She was a horrible person—detestable, and not only because of what she'd done to the beautiful boy in front of her. It was who she was—ugly on the inside. Her outward beauty a decoy, used to lure and destroy any and all that encountered her.
Edward couldn't think straight as he walked toward the boat. His mind and thoughts were all over the place. He could smell and feel her all around him, and it was driving him into a frenzy. Logically, he should have been thrilled that the object of his filthy fantasies was there, had been there, but suddenly, his conscience was in overdrive. She was his aunt—his father's sister. It was sick, wasn't it? He wasn't even sure what to think anymore. She'd had his dick in her hands… her mouth. That vision wasn't something he'd ever be able to erase, and he was enraged.
How dare she.
He could tell she was surprised when he turned and offered her his hand to help her aboard. He could see the questions in her deep brown eyes, but he wasn't willing to give her any answers, not until he got some of his own.
He followed her, throwing his legs over the edge and turning to face her. The moment he looked down and got caught in her gaze, he was lost again. Without hesitation, he grabbed her, pulled her into his arms and crashed his lips on hers.
She was dizzy. The way he held her, so possessive and incessant, needy and uncontrolled, threw her into a whirl of emotions she'd long ago locked up inside. The way he made her feel frightened her. It should have sent off alarms and sirens for her to stop—to push him away, but she couldn't stop it no matter how wrong it was.
He was gorgeous, all chiseled jaw and sloped strong nose. His hands were brusque and manly, stronger than any that had touched her before. His lips were like sugar in her mouth, dissolving inside of her and pushing down the sour taste of distractions and emptiness. She wanted to eat him whole—every bit of him. She knew in an instant that she'd never get enough of him, not ever. In her darkest, loneliest days she would remember his taste, the way he held her.
Stars punched behind Edward's lids as he kissed her. He'd never been so satisfied by a woman before. There was no doubt that if he ever touched the flesh of another female, he'd remember that moment. He was drunk on her, dizzy and faded by her and the way she felt against him. Lifting her in his arms, she wrapped her long, lithe legs around his waist, and he moved them toward the door to the cabin. Talking be damned, he was taking her until he couldn't take anymore. If this was all he could have, the only moment, he was going to make it remarkable. He had no idea what faced them later on, but it didn't matter. His heart was screaming for her. The craving to have her was too much of a temptation. He would likely go mad if he had to wonder for the rest of his life about what could have been.
Pressing the key into the lock, he swiftly got them through the door and led them to the back of the cabin and they tumbled onto the neatly made bed, lips and hands and tongues fighting and feverishly searching. Bella was lightheaded. She could feel the bubbling inside of her and ached to have him touch her like the lover she longed for him to be. The fabric of her dress was pushed aside, her delicate satin underwear torn away, and his fingers dipped inside of her. Her back arched, her actions so needy and wanton that she hardly recognized herself.
He was rough, taking, taking what he so desperately needed. His thoughts were crazed, muddled, and dislocated. The smooth velvet of her warmth rendered him lame. He had no words, nothing sensible to say to her. All he could do was feel. He could smell her then—the musk of her arousal so sweet and succulent that it made his mouth water. He removed his finger, chuckling darkly when he heard her disappointed whine.
He wasn't sure what game she thought she was playing, but he was throwing his dice on the table. She wanted to throw that cunt around like the tease she was, well, he was calling her bluff. He would fuck some sense into her, show her that he was not a child, but a man worthy of fucking her, showing her pleasure like she'd never known. He'd loved her since he was a child, and he wasn't going to let her stop now that she'd put the ball in motion.
"God, yes, Edward," she cried. "Please… more!"
He stood, pushed his shorts down his legs and watched as her eyes widened when his cock snapped back against his stomach, harder than steel and pulsing with the need to be sheathed in her soft, wet cunt.
He was magnificent in his heated rage, she thought. Lean, strong muscles stretched across his chest and shoulders, and a strap of coiled muscles led to his profoundly impressive cock. She'd remembered it, easily, the way it felt in her hands and her mouth. She was reminded of her brazen actions when she stared at it, licking her lips with anticipation. She was ready for him to fuck her, to own her body the way she so desperately needed.
She wasn't stupid. She could see the hurt in his eyes. Edward's feelings were written all over his face. He was agonizing over this decision to fuck her, but she hoped he'd look beyond it—see how remarkable they were together, the way their bodies sang to each other when they touched. There was something magically happening, and she wasn't sure he would be able to see it through the guilt and shame he was working through in his head.
"Don't think. Please… I want this… I want you. Take me, Edward. Use me… I'm yours… I'm all yours."
He hissed, taking his shaft in his hand and gripping it tightly. She could see the war behind his eyes. She only hoped he'd give this to her—to himself. She wasn't sure she could live with the almost of knowing him… she needed to know—to feel that true passion she felt with him. If only once in her life, she needed it to get by.
He grabbed her ankle and pulled her toward the edge of the bed before flipping her onto her stomach and lifting her hips. He slammed into her with so much force that the wind was knocked out of her, and then pulled out and did it again. And again.
His pace was frantic. He was fucking blind with the way she felt on the inside, the way she molded around him like she was custom made for him, a tool of his desire for him and him only. His hold on her was punishing, brutal, but there was no way he could control himself. Years of pent-up desire and fantasy crashed into him, knocking him flat on his ass. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he'd actually get to touch her, and now that he had, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to pretend it never happened. There was no going back for him. He was in love with her—loved her. He needed her like oxygen and blood; he couldn't go another day without it.
"Fuck," he cried out. "Jesus, fuck, you're every-fucking-thing. Why?" he insisted. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now? "
He pounded into her with an almost inhuman strength. His heart battled against his chest and he took and took and took from her. The giving was secondary—he'd given her his heart a long time ago. If she was toying with him, he'd make sure she felt him for the rest of her life. Every man that came after him would be compared to the fucking he gave to her. He wanted her to feel him inside of her every moment for the rest of her life. He poured his heart into her as he hit her in spots he was sure no one had ever touched before.
"Oh God," she wept. "It's never… it's never, ever felt like this. Please, make it all go away."
He had no idea what she was talking about. His brain was pretty much mush and he was in no position to make sense of any of it. The animalistic sound of the sins of their bodies filled the room like pollution. The slap of skin and grunts of pleasure frightened him. He was possessed—trapped in web of lust and deceit like he'd never experienced.
And he was a glutton.
His hands moved to her waist then, lifting her so that he could move more fully on top of her. He wanted every part of him to invade her, suffocate her. She was his—he wanted to consume her very fucking soul. If he could have sucked it right out of her, he would have.
"Does this feel good? Do I fuck you good enough, aunt Bella? You sick fuck."
The whimper that escaped her satisfied him. "God," he growled. "I love you. Do you have any idea how long I've thought about you this way? Berating myself for thinking about fucking my aunt?"
"Edward, Edward," she chanted.
Hearing her cry out his name was his breaking point. With a howl, his body shook, and then tensed as he emptied himself inside of her. He could feel the way she fluttered and constricted around him as he came, pumping his cock of everything he had.
He collapsed on top of her, the heat and weight of his body startlingly comforting. She wanted to stay that way, never let go of him, but there was no way she could hold on to something so pure—so beautiful. The tear that fell from her eye and trailed down her cheek told a story. It wasn't happy, and it wasn't good, and she wanted to save Edward the heartache. He'd said he loved her, but he couldn't. She wouldn't let him.
Sensing that she was pulling away, Edward pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. There was so much conflict behind her soulful eyes. Life had done something to her. She looked tired when he looked at her. He saw the turmoil, and he wanted to take it all away. The anger had faded, dissolved. He'd bared his soul to her, and he wanted nothing more than for her to let him in, to let him love her the way only he could. He'd face his parents, he'd protect her.
"Where'd you go?" he whispered, brushing the stray tears away from the corner of her eyes. "I'm sorry I was so rough… I don't know what got into me… it was too much."
The regret was thick in his gravelly voice. Had anyone ever been so tender with her? She wasn't sure. She'd been given words—lots and lots of words, but none of them felt the way Edward's did. She wanted to cherish them, keep them in her heart and believe them.
"You've always been right here, Edward," she whispered, pressing her hand against her heart. "I always think about you."
A shuddered breath escaped him. He longed for her… the possibility of being with her, really being with her was within his grasp. He could feel it. He could practically see her determination to shut him out crumble before his eyes.
"I saw the man you've become… the pictures… Carlisle," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "So handsome… the most beautiful man I've ever seen. And now I see your heart… the same incredible heart you had as a boy. I can't take that away from you. I can't taint you this way. It'd be the most selfish thing I've ever done. It will destroy you—ruin you."
He shook his head. She was wrong. He'd become whole. That empty space would fill within him. He had to show her how right they were, family be damned. She wasn't his blood relation—she was practically a stranger. The familiarity was estranged, absent. He knew her, and yet, she was an enormous mystery to him. He had to admit to himself that he hardly knew her at all.
"I love you. That has to be enough. I can see it in your eyes, Bella. I could feel it when you touched me. This is right—you and me. They'll understand. We'll make them. I can't live without you now. Not now that I know." A sob broke through his chest and his head fell against his shoulder. "I need you. Fuck… I need you so much."
She soothed his back as he cried against her. His salty tears meshed with her skin, and she felt like she was breaking in two.
"There will never be a day that I don't think about this… us. I will treasure it every single day of my life, Edward. I will always hold you inside of my heart. Only you."
He cried then, too overcome with emotions to care about losing face as a man in front of her.
Too soon, Bella moved from where she was beneath him, gently pushing him to the side. "We should get back. They'll be wondering where we are."
He knew she was right, but it made him physically ill to think about leaving the blissful bubble they'd created. He never wanted to leave that boat. He wanted her again, the desire and ache still powerful.
The walk back to the house was spent in quiet reflection. Both of them were disturbed and conflicted, knowing that the consequences of their actions could be detrimental to those they loved.
Bella avoided Edward for the rest of the day, choosing to spend her time with Carlisle and Esme on the beach instead. The sea air helped cleanse her diseased mind. Her heart was heavy, and her mind settled. She'd never been more at odds with herself in her life.
Dinner was awkward, and the tension was thick and plagued the otherwise whimsical dinner table. Esme's enthusiasm did nothing to thaw the ice blanket that wrapped itself around Bella's heart, and there was no amount of friendly banter that would pry the frown off Edward's face.
Edward tried his damnedest to keep his eyes from wandering in Bella's direction. He felt like everyone could see right through him. He'd spend the better half of the afternoon trying to come up with a way to tell his parents that he was in love with Bella, and that he wanted to be with her. Every scenario ended the same way, and he felt like a coward for not jumping up and announcing it like a true man in love.
Once they were done eating, Edward followed Carlisle into the living area to watch the news. Carlisle was curious about his son's behavior. He was always quiet, but he'd been more withdrawn than usual, and it worried him. He had a feeling it had something to do with Bella's arrival, but he couldn't understand why Edward felt so uncomfortable in her presence. They'd always had an easy relationship, and Edward always looked forward to seeing her. He drew the conclusion that Edward was just being his regular brooding self—unhappy about the attention Bella gained with her appearance.
Edward could tell that his father wanted to talk to him, but he was in no mood. Carlisle would never understand what he was going through. He'd been lucky with his marriage. It was easy and perfect, not a flaw in or out of the public eye. He was envious of that, and he felt like lashing out, knowing the man didn't deserve it at all.
He could hear his mother and Bella in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner dishes, their hushed whispers a cruel taunt to his ears. Finally, he'd had enough and excused himself to go to his room. He just wanted to be alone until he could seek Bella out once his parents went to sleep. They needed to talk, and that wasn't going to happen with his parents lurking around.
In the privacy of his room, he replayed every moment he shared with Bella. Every touch, every moan, every soft whisper. He was ready to have her again—and he would. There was no doubt in his head.
He laid there in silence, waiting until he no longer heard movement in the house. When he heard Bella's door close, he sat up, ready to make his move. Then, he heard Carlisle's voice outside her door and groaned, knowing he would have to wait… again.
He could hear harsh whispers, but couldn't decipher the words between them. Bella's anger was evident, and he assumed they were arguing about her life decisions again. Carlisle wasn't exactly quiet about the fact that he disapproved of her decisions. He'd heard about it time and time again over the years.
Her door slammed again, and the sound of Carlisle's footsteps disappeared down the hall and descended the stairs until they were gone. He was becoming impatient—greedy for more of her and irritated that Carlisle had to interrupt his plans.
Around an hour later, he startled, having fallen asleep. He jumped up and tore through the room, throwing the door open and flying down the hall to Bella's room, hoping that she hadn't fallen asleep, too.
He knocked quietly, first, and pressed his ear against the door to listen for any movement. There was none.
"Shit," he hissed.
Turning the knob on the door as quietly as he could, he let himself inside. The room was dark and quiet, and he made his way toward the bed. He felt around, looking for her sleeping form in the darkness, only to find that the bed was empty.
"Motherfucker," he cursed, flipping the switch on the lamp on the night stand, flooding the room with light.
His entire body vibrated with anger and resentment. The hurt was fierce and stunned him.
"How could you?" he roared into the empty room, grabbing the base of the lamp and slamming it against the wall across the room. "Fucking bitch!" he cried before falling to his knees, sobs tearing through his chest like a wild animal.
~~Silence of Sin~~
For months, Edward found it impossible to sleep. He barely ate. His classes were all but a blur and he was all but a ghost to his former life. He was unrecognizable to his friends. They worried—they tried. He wanted no part of them. He was hollow inside, and he wanted to be left alone. He had nothing for them, nothing left to give to anyone. She'd robbed him. She'd left that night and taken with her everything that made him who he was.
His mother insisted that he come home for Christmas. She didn't understand what was going on with him, and he wasn't sure he'd ever have the strength to tell her. The night Bella left the beach house, he left, fled to the boat in hopes that she'd gone there to get away. She wasn't there, of course, but by the time he got back, his father had cleaned up the mess, and he made up some ridiculous excuse about hearing noises in Bella's room and tripping on the night stand. He could tell Carlisle didn't buy it, but he was upset enough himself when he found Bella gone.
There were no more questions about that night, and a few days later, they left—him to go back to school, and his parents back to their lives. As many times as his mother confronted him about his sullen mood those days, she never pushed. She offered her support, expressed her worry, but she left him alone.
Going back to face them was a difficult decision. Being around them was bound to take him back to the summer and the beach. Those memories were all intertwined with Bella for him now, and the fact that his house held memories of her wouldn't help.
He was determined to be strong. He'd began the long, harsh road toward getting over her, and he didn't want any more setbacks. He wasn't sure how he'd go about getting over her, but eventually he'd have no choice. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life alone, but settling on second best wasn't very appealing.
He made the trip back home, to Esme's delight. She wanted to shower her son with love and attention, bring out the vibrant soul inside of him again. She knew if she could just get him home and spend some time with him, she could help him crawl out of his depression. The truth was, she was scared to death. Something changed in Edward, and it was dark and frightening.
She cooked a three-course meal the night he arrived—all his favorite foods. She baked him a Boston cream pie, roasted a goose, and had every side item imaginable. She was well aware that she was going out of her way, and maybe over the top, but she'd do anything to see her baby boy smile again.
She could see sparks of the old Edward as they enjoyed their meal. He and Carlisle discussed his studies, politics, and talked about planning a fishing trip once the weather started getting warm again. Esme was grateful that they were making strides. It'd been a long road for the two of them, and she hoped they'd finally grow closer.
She'd just brought in the coffee and dessert tray when a knock at the door interrupted them.
"I wonder who that could be?" she wondered, setting the tray down and heading to the door.
Carlisle and Edward continued on with their conversation, unaware of the surprise guest that walked in behind Esme.
"We've got some surprise company," Esme said nervously, looking between Edward and Carlisle. "Bella came to spend the holiday."
Edward couldn't breathe. He could feel her in the room and struggled out of his chair to get a glimpse of her from where she stood behind his mother.
"Bella," he whispered, hardly able to say a word. He was speechless.
The punch to his gut when she walked out from behind his mother was enough to knock him back into his chair. The air fled from his lungs and his heart thumped rapidly within the cage of his chest.
"Oh fuck," Carlisle said, his voice pained.
He, too, fell back against the chair and held his hand over his mouth. Edward glanced over at him quickly before bringing his eyes back to the woman in front of him. It was painfully obvious that she was full of child, pregnant and very pregnant at that. The protruding bump on her abdomen drew him in and he couldn't bring himself not to stare.
She was beautiful, and he couldn't help but hope that the child within her was his. It was possible—the size of her and the dates would match up—he was sure of it. Her eyes were on his, sad and pleading. He couldn't decipher what she wanted from him—did she want him to deny it? Lie? He wouldn't.
He was just about to jump out of his chair and profess his love and support to her when Carlisle flew from his chair and charged her, yelling angrily.
"What are you trying to prove coming here like this? Are you trying to ruin me? You fucking bitch!"
Esme gasped, holding one hand over her heart and the other over her mouth. Her eyes were comically wide, shocked and appalled by her husband's actions.
"Carlisle!" she yelled. "What's come over you? Get away from her!"
Edward was up and out of his chair without another thought. He'd never seen Carlisle so upset in his life—he was in a rage. He wasn't sure what was so offensive about a child, but he wasn't going to stand there and let him abuse Bella without doing anything. She may have left him and broken his heart, but he loved her still.
"Are you okay?" he asked, holding her tear-stained cheeks in his palms. She was shaking, quivering with fear, and he wanted to whisk her away from that place, take her somewhere safe and take care of her.
She shook her head. Bella knew it was the end of the line for her, but she had no choice. She'd hurt the only man she'd ever loved—or would love. Her obligation to another had forced that on her, but she was no longer willing to be a pawn in a sick and twisted game of hearts. She'd done it for far too long, and when she found out she was going to become a mother, she knew she had to set things straight. Make it right.
"I'm so sorry, Edward. I love you… I love you so much, and I'm sorry I hurt you. I told you. I'm tainted… I'm a horrible person. I told you that I'd destroy you, but I had to tell you. You had to know."
He shook his head in confusion. "It'll be fine. Baby… I'm here. I'll be here for you both. I'll take care of you, always."
A thunderous roar came from behind him and before he could react, Carlisle had him in a choke hold, pulling him away from Bella and down on the floor.
"You fucking piece of shit! She's mine! She was mine, and you had the audacity to put your fucking hands on her! I'll kill you!"
Edward fought him off as best as he could, struggling to catch his breath. Carlisle had his hands on his wind pipe, choking him with every intention of watching him take his last breath. Carlisle's words bounced around in his head, and he tried to make sense of what he was saying.
He could hear his mother and Bella off to the side, begging and pleading for Carlisle to let him go. Finally, he watched his mother come up behind her husband and smack him with a crystal vase, knocking him out.
Edward slid out from beneath him and put his hands up to his throat, gasping.
"Tell me what the hell is going on!" he heard his mother scream.
Bella was sobbing; full-blown heart wrenching sobs and it broke him. He searched for her, finding her next to the table, arms wrapped tightly around her middle.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she wailed.
He crawled to her. He needed to know she was okay. Just the thought that Carlisle might have harmed her made him crazy.
"Baby, baby," he called to her, wrapping his arms around her once he was close enough and pulling her against her.
She fought against him, beating him in the chest to get away. "You don't know who I am! You don't love me! You can't love me… now that you know!"
Edward had finally had it then. "Tell me! Tell me what's going on, then!"
"She's my fucking whore!" Carlisle spat, standing on wobbly legs, and pushing his hand through his hair to examine the damage Esme had caused. "She was never my sister, you stupid shit!"
An anguished howl came from his mother and he watched as she sagged against the table. "Oh, God!"
Edward felt like he was floating. There was no way anything he was hearing was real. It couldn't be. His Bella—the beautiful, smart, and funny girl that he'd loved most of his life—the girl he knew to be his aunt was his father's mistress. He felt sick and bent over, expelling the meal he'd consumed only minutes before.
He could still hear Bella crying, Carlisle yelling, and his mother screaming, but he was in a tunnel. He couldn't work his way out of it.
Soft hands smoothed over his head, warm and comforting, and lovingly comforting words were whispered in his ear.
He finally looked up at her, anger and betrayal so heavy and so thick that he wasn't sure if he could hold himself back from striking her himself. She was right. How was he supposed to love her after that?
"I love you, cher. Je n'ai jamais aimé une autre."
He looked deeply into her eyes, and without a shadow of a doubt, he believed her. She was his—the same way he was hers, and the child she held was theirs. He could forgive her, in time. He was hurt beyond repair, but he loved her… God, how he loved her.
"I love you, too."
He kissed her, a small promise before standing to face the despicable man that he'd called father for almost fifteen years. He wanted to murder him, not only for what he'd done to his family and his mother, but for what he'd done to Bella. Using her, controlling her, punishing her. He was sick, and Edward was going to end it. Bella was his, no one else's. They had a life to start, a family to raise, and he wanted to make sure Carlisle Cullen was never a part of that. He would never go near Bella again.
He walked up to the man he once respected, and saw nothing in him that remotely resembled the sham he once was. The malice and greed in his eyes was all Edward needed to get rid of him.
"Get the fuck out of this house, and don't ever come back. If you come near my mother or Bella again, I will end you. You're a sick piece of shit, and you're done ruining lives. Go. You make me sick."
He pulled his mother into his arms and walked over to where Bella still laid on the floor next to the table and watched as Carlisle took his leave of the house, for the last time.
Esme wasn't sure what she'd just experienced, but she'd seen enough to know that her son was in love with Bella. She felt the salty sting of betrayal from the girl she'd once considered to be her sister, but her compassionate side also wondered what she'd had to endure at the hands of the psychotic man she'd never known her husband to be. She'd only been a child when she'd met her—merely eighteen years old. Now, she was a woman carrying her grandchild, and she wouldn't throw her out. Somehow, some way, she'd find the strength to forgive her and move on. She'd learn to love Bella for what she was now—the mother of her grandchild.
"Come, darling. You and I need to talk, and you need to lie down. This kind of stress can harm the baby. Come now…"
Edward was as shocked as Bella when he saw his mother extend her hand. He shouldn't have been. Esme carried more class around in her pocket than most people ever saw in a lifetime. Rouge tears escaped his eyes as he watched them walk toward the guest room—a room Bella had stayed in many times before.
He wasn't stupid enough to think everything would just work out. He was a rational man. He did know that he was going to do all he could to take care of that woman and his baby, for the rest of his life. He'd show her what real love was, and how one gave and received it. Edward had his hands full and his mind made up.
For as long as he lived, he'd erase the damage Carlisle did to Bella. One day at a time.