Bella’s Point of View
I was drunk. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that perhaps I shouldn’t have partaken, because I wasn’t entirely convinced the doctor had been right in declaring me concussion free. But I hadn’t thrown up, my consciousness hadn’t slipped for the rest of the afternoon, and eating dinner helped the pounding in my skull a little bit. I wasn’t ready to go to bed yet, though, and so when Jasper asked if I wanted a little rum in my hot chocolate, I agreed. It was a lot of rum, but it helped my brain relax, and so when he offered to get Alice and me another mug each, I agreed.
Alice gave me a look dripping with concern, “Bella, are you sure—“
“I feel fine,” I lied. “I won’t drink too much.”
Famous last words. I’m not sure if the straight-edge chaperones were just seriously stupid, or if they were hoping they could just look the other direction and not feel any weight on their consciences. Others of the chaperones seemed to be in on the whole scheme. Everyone had rum or whiskey in their hot chocolate as students settled down around the fireplaces, down to board games or card games, movie marathons, or video game tournaments. There was an unending stream of activities to keep us happy once night set in and the cold and the dark encouraged us to stay inside. I didn’t mind. Freshly showered and fed, I had changed into sweats and a tee shirt, and felt nothing but warmth inside and out as Alice and I grew progressively louder beside the fireplace. Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie were with us; James sat behind us on the couch, plucking at the guitar; Angela and Ben were working on Alice’s puzzle.
Edward had been missing since we’d returned from the mountain, and I wondered where Emmett had hid the body.
It was late and I had just won the third game of Apples to Apples, because apparently I can be pretty funny when I’m drunk, when Jasper suddenly pulled Alice to her feet, suggesting, “Let’s go for a walk.” I wanted to go; the heat from the fire at my back mixed with the alcohol had my body aching for just a breeze of cool air.
I stood as well, but Alice insisted, “Oh, no, you stay here, Bella.”
“I’m not following!” I assured her, holding my hands out straight to the side for balance as I stepped over Emmett’s massive body. “I won’t infringe on your romantic stroll! I just want to step outside for a moment.”
“Bella, you can’t even walk and you’ll just roll down the mountain—“
“I’ll hold her steady,” James promised, pushing himself up from the couch with a grunt. He had returned a few minutes before after disappearing for some time, and I thought he’d fallen asleep, but apparently not.
Jasper gave him a scrutinizing look but it was Rosalie who asked, “Are you sure you can, James?” My mind was too bubbly to search for any hidden meaning in their words, and innocent little me, I could hardly recognize the signs of drunkenness in another person, much less any other sort of influence.
Instead, I assumed they were picking on him about earlier, and huffed, “That was an accident, Rosalie! Guys, don’t bully him; I’m the one that—“
“We’re not, Bella, stop yelling!” Alice giggled, and I realized I had been talking too loudly. James offered me his arm and I slipped my hand into his elbow and followed him out to the veranda while Alice and Jasper went down the stairs inside to grab their shoes. My own inability to walk was what selected the bench for James and me to sit on as I tripped and went sprawling across it.
He laughed, “How wasted are you?”
“I’m uh . . . feeling very happy, James.” He shook his head, his heavy dark eyes watching me as I twisted around on the wooden bench, trying to get comfortable. I finally settled and he sat beside me, on my bare feet. After only a second I leapt up and began trying to walk a straight line along the wooden planks.
“You held your liquor better than this at the party,” he mused at my failed attempts. My arms were straight out, but even that couldn’t keep me from wobbling all over the place, frequently stepping to the side to keep from faceplanting.
“Yes but maybe . . . today is different because of my head hurting.” I tripped and grabbed the railing, looking over it.
“Bella, I—“
“Where are they going?” I suddenly cried, squinting in the dark. Instead of going for a walk, Alice and Jasper had merely stumbled down to the level of the lower verandas, to a small door I hadn’t ever noticed before, some hidden room beneath the lodge. Fear leaping into my throat, I spun and demanded, “Are they going to have sex?”
James’ laughter echoed in the mountains and it was a long moment before he managed to assure me, “No, probably not right now. Definitely not in there.”
“But . . . but she’s too drunk for that right now!”
“I promise. There are other people in there with them.”
“Why? What are they doing?”
“They’re, ah . . .” He had risen and strolled over to lean against the railing a bit closer to me than was ideal. Our bare arms pressed against each other in the cold, the clouds of our breath mingling in the air around our heads. “They’re smoking.”
“Alice hates cancer sticks.”
“Pot, Bella,” James chuckled, again shaking his head. The moon reflected off his blond ponytail, making him look like a wild horse. At least I thought so at the time. “They’re smoking pot.”
“Alice doesn’t smoke.”
He gave me a hard look, then snorted, “Yeah, she does.”
“No she doesn’t! She would have told me.”
“Do you smoke?”
“Well, no, I . . . only once.” It had been with my friends back in Phoenix. We’d found a friend’s dad’s stash and decided to experiment, none of us having smoked anything before. We’d been caught by his dad and everyone got a very hypocritical lecture, but that hadn’t been half as bad as the burning in our throats from hacking up our lungs for half an hour.
“Uh huh. Well that’s probably why she didn’t tell you.”
“You smoke.”
He hesitated, then nodded, “Yeah. All the time.”
“Well if it’s good enough for you and Alice, it’s good enough for me. Lead the way!”
Again James laughed, this time slipping his arm around my shoulder and insisting, “You don’t want to go in there, Bella. Everyone just smells like pot.”
“You smell like pot,” I pointed out, finally being able to place the scent permeating his clothes. That was why he’d been so sleepy on the couch. Why had no one said anything if he reeked of pot? Clearly Emmett and Rosalie knew this was going on. I wondered if they smoked. “Besides, if you don’t take me I’ll squeal. I will. I’ll tell Emmett Jasper’s attacking Alice so they’ll grow break it up.”
His dark eyes narrowed and he suddenly hissed in all seriousness, “Never squeal on that, Bella.” I was too out of my head to feel threatened, though, and simply shrugged. He sighed and suddenly his grin returned, mellow and a bit distant. His eyes narrowed and his finger traced my jaw; it made me blush and giggle. Oh, alcohol. “Beg me to take you.”
“Please take me, James,” I returned, sticking out my bottom lip. The words were meaningless to me, but he laughed low in his throat.
“Fuck do I wish I had a recording of that.” Without another word, he put my hands on his shoulders for balance and led the way down two flights of stairs and then across the twisting sidewalk until we had reached the door I’d seen Alice and Jasper slip inside. I shivered and bounced on the balls of my feet, only vaguely aware of the cold, the alcohol in my blood keeping me ignorant of the freezing temperature.
When James threw open the door, there was a collective gasp, but then Lauren laughed, “Oh, it’s only James and Bella.”
“Only James? When did I become only James? And Bella is never only Bella,” James corrected, pulling me tightly into his side. I giggled and let my hands fall around his waist as he whispered something into my ear that I couldn’t understand.
“Bella! What are you doing here?” It was Alice who cried out, nestled down on a ratty old green couch between Jasper and some guy, Derek something.
James answered for me, “She came to rescue you. Insisted Jasper was having his way with you.”
“You told me you were going for a walk and all you did was leave me,” I whined, wagging my finger in the air before stumbling forward. She giggled and scooted away from Derek to clear a tiny space for me to wedge myself into.
With a quick hand motion, Derek leapt up and James took his seat beside me as Alice cooed, “Oh, don’t cry, my Bella, my beautiful baby Bella. Come here, baby, come sit with me. You’re freezing.”
She made sure I was tucked down into her before turning to Jasper and nodding when he asked, “Shotgun, baby?” I watched with unshakable interest as he held a seashell to his lips and held the flame to the opening. He drew in a deep breath through the spiral, then leaned forward and crashed his lips against hers. After a second he pulled back, and another second later she exhaled the smoke he had pushed into her lungs. This, they explained to me, was called shotgunning.
“Hash in a shell?” she then asked, turning fuzzy eyes to me. I was too drunk and simultaneously too warm and too cold and maybe even too concussed to say no.
So I nodded and asked, “Help me?”
“Of course, my beautiful baby Bella.” She helped me pinch the shell between my fingers to my lips, then gently coached me through sucking in a slow, steady breath. It didn’t burn hardly at all, but I wasn’t sure if that was the hash, experience (does one previous time count as experience?), or the alcohol. I was by no means an expert on drug use. She, Jasper, and James all stared at me as I held it in, holding my breath until my lungs burned and my eyes watered, a couple tears leaking out and dripping down my chin.
“Don’t hold it forever,” Alice giggled into my shoulder, patting my chest to get me to let my breath out. One of the boys hooted. She glared at him, then kissed my neck and had me take one more hit before passing it to James.
Jasper leaned around her to hold his hand out and insist, “Bella, I just want you to know that nothing in the world could induce me to take advantage of—“
“Oh, I didn’t expect she was saying no,” I giggled. Alice tried to hit me but she was suddenly giggling too hard for there to be any force behind it. “I just told James that so he would bring me in here.”
“What were your exact words, sweet Bella? Do you remember?”
“Please take me, James!” I yelled, knowing it would get a laugh. He roared with laughter, and he leaned down to playfully bite my forearm, which made me yelp and pull away with a startled laugh, his fingers digging into my sides to tickle after he’d passed the shell along.
“What a fucking whore,” Lauren snorted, but I couldn’t for the life of me decide what she meant by it or even where she was sitting; my world consisted only of the occupants of our couch.
So ignoring her, I mused, “I think I stepped on something outside.” I had been sitting on my feet but pulled one up to inspect the bottom. Pine needles and dirt and a couple small pebbles had latched on, but nothing seemed to stick once I brushed at it. To be sure, Alice reached over and brushed too.
“Where are her shoes, James?” someone asked. I glanced up at the painfully familiar voice, and across the shed to an ugly yellow recliner where none other than Edward Cullen sat, leaning back with his knees splayed and a red cup in one hand. Lauren perched on a crate beside him, Jessica on a pillow on the ground near her feet, where she was used to being. Poor thing. I wanted to pet her and ask if she really liked being Lauren’s bitch so much. But I didn’t.
Instead I giggled as James growled, “Same place as her helmet, I guess, fucktard.” Oh. Edward was still being a douche.
I glared at Edward, “You’re supposed to be dead, anyways.”
“I am?” His eyes raised just the slightest bit at my accusation, but otherwise he didn’t move, not even to give me the cocky grin I expected. His vibrant green eyes were red, but I couldn’t tell if it was from drinking, smoking, or the cold. Maybe he’d been crying. Maybe Emmett made him cry.
“Yes. I thought Emmett killed you and hid your body and I won’t say I wasn’t really excited by the idea.”
“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you once again,” he returned lamely. Breaking eye contact, he took a deep swig of whatever was in his cup.
Alice suddenly grabbed my raised foot with both of her hands and cried, “But where are your shoes, Bella? You need those, you know. Your toes, I mean.”
“I don’t know where my shoes are!” I sighed, apparently deeply saddened by this. “I bet they are in the smelly shoe room, but I’m afraid to go in there by myself. I’ll probably pass out from the stench and no one will find me until foot fungus has taken root in my lungs.” You could probably tell who had already taken a few hits by those who found this hysterical. I beamed proudly. I was a riot.
Tyler was in the corner and suddenly produced a guitar; I knew the lodge had a couple, but I couldn’t imagine them not noticing him sneaking it out. Whatever. They also didn’t know a shed full of drunk kids were smoking pot beneath their feet. Did Emmett and Rosalie know? Whatever. James was a chaperone, too.
Unfortunately, Tyler didn’t actually know how to play. He began strumming and singing, egged on by Alice, Lauren, and Jessica clapping for him to go faster. I was apparently the only one who realized how awful he was.
“Stop, you’re hurting my ears!” I groaned, burying my face in my arms as I pulled my knees up to my chest. I yelped and whined, “My nose is an ice cube! I think it burned me!”
Alice was laughing so hard that I almost didn’t hear Edward call out, “Here,” before tossing me his wadded up scarf. If Emmett had killed him, like I thought, then Edward didn’t need it anyways. Dead people don’t get cold. So I wrapped it around my throat and pressed my nose into it, breathing deeply and letting my eyes close.
It smelled like him. It was like I had buried my nose in his neck. Every breath brought the scent of him into my lungs and into my blood stream to go oozing around with the pot and alcohol. This was a bad idea all around. I was under the influence of too many things, and the scent of Edward Cullen was probably the most dangerous. My stomach was suddenly turning somersaults and I thought maybe I was going to fall forward, face first on the ground, when James’ warm fingers suddenly ran down my arm.
My head jerked up and my wide eyes darted to Edward, “Thanks! I—oh.” My gaze narrowed and I gave him a pointed look, “That’s right.”
The sudden change I felt on my face wasn’t lost on him and he frowned, “What’s right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” I repeated. “I’m drunk now so you can be nice to me again. Because if I’m normal, you get all bitch-prissy on me and tell me to go kill myself—“
“I did not—“
“But as soon as I’m drunk you’re all Mr. Stop-Taking-Your-Clothes-Off-Oh-My-God-I-Can-See-Your-Legs-And-I-Can’t-Look-Away.” People were in stitches as I vented all this out in a single angry breath. “Well, joke’s on you because I’m not that drunk.” I was. Clearly, I was.
“Woooooooah,” Jasper groaned, waving his hands in the air. “Easy, guys. Keep it cool in here. Take the bitch fight outside!”
Alice sat bolt upright and insisted, “Don’t call my beautiful baby Bella a bitch! Your menstruating male companion is the bitch!”
“I didn’t mean it, Alice,” he frowned, and she instantly forgot what he was talking about.
My eyes were fixed angrily on Edward, though he stammered, “What? I never—“
“Talk to me unless I’m drunk,” I finished for him.
“That’s not true. Today—“
“Yes it is! I wasn’t normal today so that doesn’t count,” I argued. Something possessed me to stand and walk closer – maybe it was Alice and Jasper nuzzling beside me – and closer until I stood towering over him in his ugly recliner, our knees pressed together.
“Get him, Bella!” Alice called over, and I could see Lauren rolling her eyes to my right. I was in the mood for a fight, though, so girl had best watch herself. Oh, the embarrassing things I think while intoxicated.
“Why are you only nice to me when I’m drunk?” I demanded of Edward, staring straight into those green eyes. My need for an answer was keeping me from wobbling or dancing – which were the two things my body most wanted to do right now.
He held my gaze for an uncomfortable second, then sighed and motioned to Lauren, “Fuck, pass that here. I’m going to need some of that.” He took another swig of his drink as she passed him the lighter and a joint someone behind me had just finished rolling. I just stood there and watched him take a hit, my arms folded over my chest and my eyes never once straying from his face. I was going to get an answer. That I was sure of.
Suddenly he held the lighter and joint out to me with something of a smirk, his eyes narrowed like he was so sure I would turn it away. It had extinguished itself anyways.
I accepted. And felt oddly comfortable with it perched between my finger and thumb. I didn’t know what I was doing; why was I standing here again?
Holy shitfuck, what was I doing? Because instead of accepting the lighter when he held it out, I suddenly leaned down and straddled his lap, my knees pressing hard into his hips in the confines of the recliner. The smirk was gone; his expression was such a jumble I couldn’t begin to name them all. But over all, he looked terrified. And that added even more confidence to the number alcohol and hash had already done on me.
I pointed to the lighter and lifted an eyebrow, and that spurred him into action, at least enough to spark a small flame and hold it steady as I leaned in to suck the joint to life. Inhaling, I leaned back, letting one of my hands clamp onto his knee to keep myself from falling ungracefully backwards. I didn’t hold it in half as long as I had before, letting the smoke drift through my nostrils. That had been a bad idea; now my nose and my throat both burned. This wasn’t the same stuff that had been in the seashell.
His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed as he stared at my mouth now, almost smirking. Maybe he was smirking. At the very least, he looked determined to not react to anything. Huh.
“Shotgun?” I asked. Not waiting for an answer, I took another long drag, but only held it for a second before leaning forward and pressing my lips tightly against his. I had never done this before; I had no idea what I was doing, but I hoped it at least looked good. I hoped it at least made him uncomfortable, because that seemed to be my goal for the time being. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face and make him suffer for all the shit he had been putting me through. So as I forced the smoke from my lungs into his, I raked my fingers down his chest and abdomen; his shirt was thin and I hoped my nails were long enough to be felt. I wanted him to suffer.
He didn’t jerk away from the shotgun, just parted his lips enough to inhale, his hands coming up to rest lightly against my hips. Even though my shirt left a small gap above the waist of my sweatpants, his fingers remained politely on the band of fabric He was still being polite! What a douche!
My lungs spent, I leaned back again to watch his face, trying not to let myself gasp for oxygen too loudly. My face was on fire, my throat was on fire, my lungs were on fire, the skin beneath his fingers were on fire even with the fabric protecting it. My ass, my thighs, and my shins were on fire, pressed against his legs on the chair. Between my legs burned the most, though, and this infuriated me. I could feel my heart trying to decide where to send the blood: to my head or to the roaring fire in my panties. He was supposed to be the one losing complete control, but just like on the mountain, my brain was turning somersaults in my head again. I could feel my eyes drifted forward and backwards, to the left and the right, unsure whether they were actually moving or if my brain was just hopelessly muddled. All the voices were muffled, and I couldn’t remember how many people were in the room anymore. My focus on him was solid, though. I was aware of every twitch of the muscles in his legs and arms, every flutter of a hair on his head, ever blink that momentarily shielded those green eyes from my gaze.
After he’d let out the smoke to the side, he took a hard swig of whatever was in his cup. He didn’t look at me for a long moment, laughing at something Lauren said beside us that I couldn’t make out. I didn’t care what she said. Why was she talking to him? Why was she even talking at all? I hated her and her stupid damn pink snow suit.
No, my eyes were trained wholly on Edward’s face. If Edward wanted nothing to do with me, so be it, but he needed to say once and for all. Because suddenly, even though I had no doubts about his feelings towards me, I realized it mattered way too much. It’s hard to make a convincing argument towards hating someone, even if your hate would be entirely well-founded, when you just want to lean forward and lick the pulsing vein in the side of their neck. I wanted him – I wanted him bad – and I needed him to tell me to get lost so I could stop hanging onto even the tiniest glance, even the tiniest speck of hope. Maybe if he point blank said the words “I fucking hate you Bella Swan,” I would be able to stop wishing so desperately that the dreams were real, or that he and James would trade places, or that I could haul Edward up the mountain and show him James’ secret spot.
But now Edward was simply avoiding my gaze, pretending like I wasn’t straddling his lap and staring at his face. He had let go of my hips and had both hands resting on the arm rests, one still clutching his red cup. It made me feel like a fool. What the hell? Guys were supposed to go nuts when a girl straddles their lap. I considered grinding my crotch against his – that would be a good move, wouldn’t it? But no, I was so close to the brink, so turned on by even just the body heat radiating from his legs that it would probably just send me embarrassingly over the edge.
With a frustrated groan, I pushed myself up from his lap, grabbed the cup from his hand, and tried to casually stroll out the door. My feet were numb but it didn’t bother me anymore. I just wanted out of the smoky heat of the room.
Faintly over my shoulder I heard Alice yell, “Don’t go wandering off, beauty! We’re in the fucking mountains!” I didn’t care. Maybe I’d throw myself down one. They’d find me in the morning, a tangled heap of broken bones and ripped skin. I didn’t care.
But no, I did care. I was pissed, but I didn’t want to die. And besides, the heat between my legs was making it painful to walk. I only managed a few yards before pressing myself against the wall. I closed my eyes and let the top of my head rest against the wood, then quickly tugged Edward’s scarf away from my neck to let the cold air hit my damp skin. I tossed the cup away, not caring the trouble our entire class was going to be in when the chaperones found alcohol everywhere in the morning. Maybe someone would think to clean up. Shit, it would probably be me. Stupid Bella Swan, hung over and feeling all kinds of disgusting, would probably be the one to make the rounds and hide the evidence. Because I was responsible and predictable and I hated it now more than ever before.
The feel of eyes on me finally pulled me back to earth, and I turned to the side. Edward. He stood only a few feet away, though I hadn’t heard him approach, and certainly hadn’t expected him to follow. His eyes were sleepy and red and overwhelmingly intense.
I glared and demanded, “What do you want?” He took a step closer then froze again, just staring. It made me extremely comfortable. “Well?”
Then suddenly there he was, pressing his lips against mine almost painfully, his mouth biting mine with such fierce passion that it scared me. His lips tugged on mine, his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, pulling it away as he gasped hot air into my mouth. I didn’t even waste time being shocked. As soon as I felt his teeth against my lips, my tongue darted out and traced them, traced his lips, shoved into the space beneath his tongue. I was going to memorize every line of his lips and every space of his mouth.
His hands had grabbed my face but quickly slid down my neck, down my shoulders, down my arms, and mine crept up his stomach, over his shoulders, only to wind into his wild hair. My fingers gripped his head, pressing our mouths even harder together, as though at some point our faces could meld. I couldn’t get close enough to him.
His mouth had lost restraint, but his hands were still being too polite. I bit his lip, then traced the bite with the tip of my tongue, then sucked his lip into my mouth, grinding it between my teeth. “Come on,” I breathed impatiently when his fingers stilled at my waist. I don’t think I’d meant to say it out loud, but I did, and he groaned at the sound of my voice. Finally his hands dipped down, slipping behind me to press against the exposed band of skin. His lips moved quickly to my jaw, down the side of my neck. He tugged the scarf away completely to bite my collarbone with his lips and then suck at the hollow of my throat. My fingers dug into his shoulders and I let my head roll back against the wall, biting my lip to keep from groaning too loudly.
This seemed to startle him back into himself, and suddenly his mouth was against me ear, insisting with a rush of hot air, “Tell me no and I swear to god, Bella, I’ll stop.”
I didn’t want talking. Talking usually meant fighting with us and, more pressing right now, it meant no more kissing. So instead of saying anything in response, I nosed his jaw and attacked his neck, kissing and sucking more vigorously than he had on my delicate throat. My tongue flicked into the dip behind his earlobe and he grunted and groaned before reaching lower to grab my knees. In one fluid motion, he pulled my knees up to my hips and pushed me forcefully against the wall, pressing himself hard between my legs and attacking my neck with the urgency I had just demonstrated. I groaned and gasped at the feel of his hard-on against my sensitive arousal. Granted, my knowledge of erections was basically non-existent but I had never expected it could be so hard; it felt like a fucking bone grinding against me.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and tried to kiss his neck but his lips were suctioned to my collarbone.
“Edwa—ah,” I interrupted myself with a loud moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he suddenly thrust roughly against me, his teeth pinching the skin beneath my ear. His lips quickly pulled back and his hips stilled. “No, don’t stop . . .”
He pressed his lips to mine, but it wasn’t anything like the raw kisses that had burned the skin of my neck and face. His lips gently brushed mine for only a second before he pulled back and gave me the strangest wide-eyed look. It was nothing I had ever seen on his beautiful face. Almost . . . almost sad. I desperately wanted to kiss it away, but he just continued to look at me with concern, his eyes trailing around my face.
Regardless, the moment was over. With a heavy sigh, I wiggled to lower my feet back to the ground, wincing as I felt the cold a bit more than I had earlier. Not enough to send me inside, but enough.
Edward continued to stare and I stared back, trying my hardest to understand this boy. It wasn’t going to happen, though, so instead I insisted, “Tell me the truth, Edward. Why don’t you ever want anything to do with me?”
“Because you fucking terrify me, Bella,” he admitted, suddenly turning away from me and running a hand roughly through his hair. I watched his shoulders rise, then slump, then rise again. He rubbed his face, then turned back to me, his fingers massaging a spot on his neck. It was already darker than the surrounding skin, and I faintly wondered how badly marked up both of us would be in the morning. And what exactly that would mean.
“I terrify you?”
“You just . . .” He gave me another hard look, then leaned forward and gave me another kiss, more urgent than the last gentle one, but certainly still light, just a gentle grasping of my lips with his own. I smiled against his lips. Did this mean he couldn’t even keep his hands off me long enough to get a sentence out? And it certainly meant I was collecting enough kisses from him to begin comparing them. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he finally offered, pulling back, stepping away with his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. There was a bench nearby, still cast in shadow and hidden from the upper verandas, which he stopped to look at.
I tilted my head to the side to watch him before following and teasing, “Not usually, but I’m not made of glass, you know.”
“What?”
“I may not be the most experienced kid on the block,” I continued with a shrug that showed a bit more self-consciousness than I cared to. Why had I dumped his cup of whiskey out again? “I know what people say, but I’m not a prude. I can smoke, I can drink.” He was looking at the ground with a half-grin, not expecting me to gently push him down onto the end of the bench. “I can be fun.”
“I know you can be fun,” he assured me, suddenly watching me with those fearful eyes again, suspicious of what I might do. All things considered this evening, I supposed I no longer was predictable.
Good.
I straddled his hips again, wiggling until his hardness could rest comfortably between my legs without pinching my skin against bone. Knotting one hand in the hair at the back of his head, I trailed my other fingers down his chest and abdomen as I whispered, “Do you?” Shit, I was good. This whole alcohol-plus-pot thing was great. I was confident and clever and sexy as hell – I turned myself on! Looking Edward square in the face, I demanded, “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”
“I just don’t want to—I mean, you’re—“
“I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t like something,” I promised, smoothing the boldness of my words with a kiss. I could feel him sitting perfectly still beneath me, frozen in resistance, and it angered me. I wanted the moment back. I wanted to feel his teeth against my skin, and I wanted to make him groan against my neck. So I was drunk and high and he was, too. I didn’t care, so why did he? The boy was not supposed to care in these situations. With my luck, this was just another dream anyways, but god, it was a good one.
I deepened the kiss, running my tongue just beneath his lip and secretly thanking Alice for reading all those stupid Cosmo articles out loud to me. Seducing boys wasn’t exactly something I had experience with, any more than drinking or smoking. I wrapped my lips around his again and spread my fingers across his stomach before sitting up taller on his lap, pressing my arousal down on his.
That was all it took for Edward to lose all the control he was apparently fighting so hard for. Suddenly he was wordlessly clutching my ass again, dragging me hard across his lap. I whimpered, then gasped as he suddenly stood up, his arms cradling me against him, only to lay me down on the bench and straddle the concrete, my legs hitched over his. I heard his breath catch in his throat as he leaned forward to kiss my neck, his teeth nipping the tender skin.
“Ohhh fu . . .” I breathed when reaching for his jawline with my lips made him press firmly between my legs again. There was no way that was him. There had to be, like, an aluminum baseball bat shoved into his pants or something. One of his arms snaked beneath my head, his elbow bearing his weight as his other hand began tracing small circles beneath the hem of my shirt. My lungs had stopped taking in oxygen and my eyes rolled to the back of my head as every nerve in my body turned their attention to the feel of his cool fingers against my heated skin. His hand crept higher and higher until his fingers brushed the underside of my bra. He pulled his face back and looked into mine, his eyes concerned again. I didn’t want concern; I wanted him to go back to not having any control. That seemed to result when I kissed him, so quickly I bobbed my head up to bite his lip and drag him down. In response, his thumb slipped beneath my bra, followed by the rest of his fingers until he had me cupped completely in his hand, gently massaging as his lips trailed down the side of my neck. My breathing was coming in gasps. There was one spot right above my collarbone, I had already noticed, that was extra sensitive to his lips. This time my mind was so wrapped around the sensation of his hand warming around my breast that his tongue caught me off guard. When he bit the spot, I inhaled sharply and bucked my hips; he growled and bit harder.
“Ah-h! Edward . . .” I moaned, twisting my head as he continued to bite all around the area, sucking, licking, whatever he could do to get me to buck like that again. He rubbed his thumb against my hard nipple. I shifted my hips as a shiver ran up my spine, and now more of his weight rested against my pelvis. I cried out with pleasure as he pressed himself between my legs again. My sweatpants provided hardly any barrier as he began rocking against me more regularly. I groaned and bit my lip and slid my fingers under his shirt, running my nails up and down his back; it made his back arch and his hips dig deeper into mine. He moaned into my neck, sucking on my collarbone, and choked out a shaky breath as my fingers slid under the hem of his jeans and his boxers at his hips. I couldn’t explore any further, but just the knowledge that they were even a fraction into his jeans made his hips suddenly buck harder against mine. The collision of boner with bone hurt at first, but then his hand left my breast to wrap around my waist and hold me up a bit.
“Fuck,” he moaned against my lips as I wrapped my legs around his body. Instead of slamming into me now, we were more rubbing against each other; in accordance, his thrusts became smaller but quicker. His breathing came in ragged gasps and he couldn’t even kiss anymore; his face just pressed into my neck as he ground hard against me. “Fuck, Bella!” Suddenly I felt his entire body shudder and he slammed against me hard, crying out into my neck and resting fully on top of me. The weight was welcome; the contact of sweaty skin and the feel of his hot breath crawling around my throat kept my brain too fuzzy to really think about what had just happened. But shit, Edward Cullen had clearly just had an orgasm, and I hadn’t even been touching him, and it was about the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life.
I momentarily forgot my own needs, distracted by the sound of his stifled grunts, but suddenly I felt his hand slip down the front of my sweatpants, his fingers going straight for the kill. I gasped, completely caught off guard, then panted, “Fuck, fuck, Edward, shit!” It was embarrassing –the moans, the swearing, the whimpering—but I couldn’t stop vocalizing. Between cries, I could hear his fingers sliding around, small sucking noises accentuating just how ready I was. His thumb rubbed my swollen clit and I could feel his fingers tracing around my entrance, teasing and making a huge mess.
I tossed my head back and panted as his lips trailed kisses up and down my exposed throat.
“Tell me to stop and I—“
“Don’t you dare,” I begged. “God, Edward, please.” He dipped one finger in and my body crouched in preparation. My moans got louder as he slipped another finger in and began wiggling them around, his thumb still rubbing my clit. I evaporated into a mess of moans and whimpers, my hips bucking, my back arching and twisting. Then, one flick of his fingers and everything came crashing down around me. My entire body clenched; with a cry, I dug my nails hard into the skin of his lower back, pressing my hips harder against his fingers. Everything in my tightened around his hand, then quickly my muscles exploded outwards, every part of me going limp and collapsing onto the bench. A shiver ran up from my toes, my eyes rolling back in my head and then slowly forward until they’d returned to their normal spot. His hand slipped out of my sweatpants and again snaked around my waist.
Both of us were breathing hard as he kissed my collarbone, his mouth lingering against my skin. I inhaled deeply, his warm, musky scent beginning to fill my lungs as my body tried to remember how to breathe. He rubbed his nose against my shoulder, traced the side of my neck, then buried it in my hair. The tenderness of the action slowly brought me down, and though my brain was still turning and hazy, I felt so . . . heavy, and warm, and settled. Exhausted. I didn’t ever want to move, and didn’t think I’d have the energy even if I wanted to.
Suddenly the turning in my head got to be too much. My stomach was clenching and unclenching, and even though I was wearing so little in the freezing temperatures, I was too hot.
“Off. Off!” I suddenly yelled, pushing against him. He pulled himself up and I dove off the bench, making it only a few steps before collapsing to the ground and vomiting up every bite of pizza from dinner. It was grotesquely mortifying, sprawled on all fours like a dog, puking up my guts. What a way to completely and entirely ruin the perfection of what had just happened. At first he froze, but suddenly he was there rubbing my back as I gasped for air and wiped at my mouth.
“Shit . . . are you—“ but if he had been going to ask if I was finished, the answer was definitely no. No sooner had he gotten me to my feet, I was hunched over again, dry-heaving. And crying. I had started to cry – out of embarrassment, out of disappointment, out of disgust, out of pity for myself.
“You’re trashed,” he spit out, suddenly turning away and ripping his fingers through his hair again. “Fuck. FUCK!” He kicked the bench and then punched at the wall, opening his hand just before his fist collided with the hard wood. His yells brought a few people stumbling over to the railing above, peering straight down where we could finally be seen. Likewise, Alice, Jasper, Lauren, and James dove out of the shed to stare at us through hazy eyes.
I was suddenly not feeling intoxicated at all, just drained and embarrassed and hurt. Of course I was trashed. He had known that. Not so trashed that I hadn’t known what we were doing, but certainly trashed enough to confidently enjoy it . . . what was the problem?
“Shit, Bella, I’m sorry, I—“ Edward started, but suddenly James was laughing, doubled over and clutching his stomach. Edward spun on him, “Shut the fuck up, James!”
“What are you sorry about? She sounded like she was enjoying it.”
They had heard us? Suddenly I was dry-heaving again, the tears a steady stream down my face, my shoulders convulsing. Everyone had just . . . it hadn’t even occurred to me that people could hear . . . how loud had I been?
Time sped up and things happened too quickly for me to understand. I faintly heard Alice giggle, “Bella, weren’t you a virgin?” James was laughing. Edward flew at James and got in at least one good punch to his jaw that I saw. Jasper shoved Alice out of the way as the boys careened into him, and she landed hard on Lauren. The kids on the veranda began chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” The front door of the lodge opened and teachers came pouring out while Emmett and Rosalie sprinted down the stairs. I tried to stand upright to flee the scene, but James pushed Edward into me. I fell back and heard but didn’t feel the thud of my skull against the wooden railing.
And that’s my story of the first time a boy made me orgasm.
Eight Main Ten