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Self Control	By : smcbelle Category: Twilight Series > Het > Bella/Edward Views: 13270 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter two!!! As requested, here is the continuation. Possibly more to follow for this one; let me know if you like it, please!

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Isle Esme, Brazil

I still couldn't believe I'd consented to marry him. There we were, honeymooning on Esme's island, husband and wife (I still couldn't quite grasp the terms), and we still hadn't made love. Gloomily, I thought of how much I'd compromised to hold up my end of our little bargain. Granted, he'd capitulated to some sexual activity by “taking things slowly”, but I wanted so much more than he'd given me. For several nights during our engagement, he'd used his fingers to bring me to orgasm, and I'd used my mouth and hands. I didn't know how much more digital stimulation I could handle, though. I wanted an orgasm that was wrought by the rhythmic, passionate love-making of which I knew he was more than capable. Still, it was probably for the best that we'd initiated our intimacy gradually. He still kept insisting that he'd cause me serious physical damage the first time we had sex.
Then, before I knew it, I was out in the ocean with him, naked, wading around in the warm water, visions of wild sex dancing in both of our minds.
After we'd been swimming for about a half hour, most of which was spent groping and petting our ways into overwhelming arousal, Edward finally grasped my nude body in his strong arms and dashed playfully up the beach, to the white, wispy bed.
He plopped me down onto the overstuffed down blanket and grinned ravenously down at me.
“Ready to try?” I tried to sound seductive. Lying on my back, I pulled my arms up over my head and stretched like a cat. My sinewy movement clearly only aroused Edward more. He squared his jaw and growled quietly. In the moonlight, he looked exactly like a perfectly carved marble statue, impossibly well-proportioned and solid.
“Bella, you have to promise to stop me if I get carried away,” he warned. I nodded. I would have nodded to anything he'd said. I just wanted to feel him inside me. I'd been waiting for what seemed like forever for this very moment.
And yet, I was internally terrified. I'd heard that a virgin's first intercourse hurt, even when it was a human male involved, and not a ridiculously strong vampire. In the days leading up to our wedding, I'd done my... research... any time that he wasn't around. In the shower, I clandestinely shoved as many of my fingers as I could into my vagina, almost screaming in pain at times. I knew that my hymen would not be a problem; I'd been using tampons since the age of thirteen. And, still, I was absolutely petrified. I'd seen the size of his throbbing member and had marveled at its girth and length. How in the world was he going to ever fit that inside of me?
Then, there was always the matter of the roughness. How far would he go in his passion? He had said he could kill me during sex. I tried to imagine dying violently during a sexual act, and none of the possibilities were pretty. I gulped, lying on the warm blanket, and he saw me.
“If you're too frightened...” he began, but I shook my head vehemently.
“Edward,” I breathed, my voice barely escaping through my slightly parted lips, “I want you... need you... now.”
I reached down to touch myself in front of him, and I saw him shift his weight and gasp in air. My fingers, still wet from the sea water, gently massaged my own vulva and clitoris, and every once in a while, I'd peek a fingertip into the wet entrance, moaning quietly at my own touch.
“You,” I groaned, “I want it to be you.”
That was all he needed. So much for self-control. He pounced above me, so suddenly that I let out a yelp of shock. He laughed at my surprise; I was in no danger. He perched himself, hovering above me and supporting all of his own weight. I felt the coolness radiating from his smooth flesh and shivered in the night.
“Bella,” he said softly, his lips against my ear. His words were at once glacial and blistering with passion. I started hyperventilating and had to consciously slow my breathing. It was hard not to have a full-blown panic attack, knowing what was coming.
Edward traced his frosty lips all the way down my neck to my chest. With one hand, he groped and massaged my left breast while he touched his lips to the right one, and I buckled at the sensation. He flicked his tongue over my erect nipple and dragged his lips heavily in circles around it. He moaned onto my skin, and the feeling of his breath and wordless vocalization left me writhing.
“More,” I gasped, pressing my chest harder into his hand and mouth. He became more vigorous in his groping and licking until suddenly he pulled his hand away. I glanced down and nonchalantly noticed that my left breast was blotchy with deep red spots from his pressure. I didn't care in the slightest.
The hand that had been caressing my chest gradually moved down to the wet entrance between my thighs that cried out for his touch. I felt my back arch as he stimulated me with his fingers, which were oddly pleasant in their frigidity. I grew wetter and wetter, until he knew I was ready for him. I reached my own hand down and felt that he was rock hard, harder than I'd ever seen or felt him. He was ready, too.
“Edward,” I moaned, and he just gazed at me in reply. “Maybe it's best if we start with you on your back. I'll control the motion.”
He smiled suddenly, and I noticed with a strange feeling that it was a smile of relief. “That's a wonderful idea,” he said, a bit too wholeheartedly, and I was acutely aware again of his fear of his power. I would begin slowly.
He rolled over, pulling me on top of him. With him lying there on his back, I could see every inch of his glorious torso, muscled and sculpted and glistening in the moonlight. I felt myself grow even wetter and knew that I was probably literally dripping with arousal. I carefully situated myself above his pelvis and grasped his cock in my seemingly tiny hand. I looked lovingly at him for a moment and felt the powerful adoration in his eyes.
“I love you, Edward,” I said, and I gently, slowly glided him, one inch at a time, into me. It felt so incredibly cold inside me, like it was some sort of enormous Popsicle, but again I didn't care. Apparently, the temperature difference meant more to him. As soon as I had the tip inside me, he was nearly thrashing, gripping the bed in his fists and contorting his face.
“It's so warm!” he cried, and his voice continued murmuring feverishly as I fed his length into my hungry orifice. I felt my head fall back, too heavy for me to hold up, and words escaped me entirely. I hovered there, once he was as deep as I could take him, and then began to slowly rotate my pelvis. I was vaguely aware of his moaning and convulsing beneath me, but I was so lost in the pleasure of the fullness that I felt a strange disconnect. Only when I felt his large hands powerfully grasp my hips did I come back to reality.
It didn't hurt. It was large and thicker than even I'd anticipated, but it only felt wonderful. “Wonderful,” I repeated, my voice a weak croak. I felt his hands tightening on my hips as I began to move my body more dramatically above him, and then in an instant, I found myself on my back again. Edward looked down at me from beside the bed, his eyes wild with craving.
“I was going to... to...” he couldn't find the right word.
“Explode?” I finished, raising an eyebrow and panting. He laughed and nodded. He slowly climbed back into the bed and sat low on his knees in front of me. He grasped both of my ankles in one hand, his hold strong and firm. He cautiously moved my ankles up, higher and higher, and I knew what he was after. I helped him the rest of the way, straightening my legs until they were perpendicular with the bed. Edward used his other hand to guide himself back into me, and he began to thrust, slowly at first, but gradually getting faster. His other hand moved around my body as his thrusting accelerated, clasping my thighs and my shoulders, touching every square inch of me with a heavy grip.
I felt myself hurtling toward the point of no return as he thrust, not even realizing how hard he was pushing. I used one of my hands to push my clitoris harder against his never-ceasing motions. I felt my face grow hotter and heard the familiar ringing in my ears. Then I was shaking, flopping around like a fish as I came for him, and his thrusting momentarily ceased as he reveled in how my muscles clamped down rhythmically around his girth. The clenching slowed, and the ringing grew silent, but I was still gasping for air. The humid, salty, warm air was not enough. I was drowning in my own pleasure.
I looked dreamily up at him, my exhaustion overwhelming me, but I knew we weren't done. “Bella,” he said deliberately, “we can stop now. We've made love; you've had a strong orgasm while I was making love to you. Isn't that enough?”
I managed to shake my head through my fatigue. “No,” I insisted. “It can't be just me. Our marriage won't be consummated.” I giggled at that last word, but he sighed and shook his head, still concerned by his own strength.
“Okay,” he capitulated, and he spun me over again until I was on my stomach. “Can you please tip your bum up towards me?” he asked, his voice embarrassed. I did, obligingly, and felt his hard hands tightly grasp the cheeks as he drove himself into me once more. He was exhibiting an extreme amount of self-control now, I noted, by taking so long until he came. It was as if he was afraid of his own orgasm...
But then I heard the moaning from behind me, growing louder and louder. I screamed his name into the bed, clenching my eyes shut as I another wave of unrelenting delight hit me. I felt his hands grasping me everywhere again, my shoulders and my arms, and it was as if he were tearing at my skin with his mighty palms and fingers. I saw a pillow beside me disappear, and it never came back. He was like a machine, plowing into me again and again, accelerating in both tempo and intensity, and it was unbearably fulfilling. I heard myself let out a low grunt with every single thrust.
And then, he let loose an enormous sound that sounded downright painful... but I knew it was the culmination of his own pleasure. I felt liquid spewing into me in pulsing jets, and it pushed me over the edge. I squirmed and cried out as I came yet again, my own muscles echoing the rhythm of his. I heard him nearly screaming my name, and I felt him still holding me just a bit too tight as he recovered. Then, tragically, I felt that he was no longer inside of me, and I felt hollow and empty.
“Meh!” I whined childishly, rolling over to face him. “Why did you pull out of me?”
He was lying on his back beside me, his eyes closed and his chest moving more deeply than I'd ever seen.
“Bella,” he murmured, sounding blissful, “I think I could do that all night.”
“So why don't you?” I demanded impishly. “Why don't you make love to me all night?”
“Because,” he replied patiently, his voice like honey, “I don't know what damage I did just doing it the one time, and you're exhausted.”
“I'm not exhausted,” I argued, but even as I said the words, my eyelids were closing against my will and every limb felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. I sighed in defeat and snuggled next to him, feeling his cool skin against my flushed, pink flesh. My entire body felt as though it were being caressed by soft, warm snowflakes. “Goodnight, Edward,” I muttered, my words slurred by the onslaught of drowsiness. “I love you so much. And thank you. It was perfect.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Bella Cullen,” he responded, and I could just see his sly little grin. After a moment, when he thought I was asleep, he added, “I don't know if you'll think it's so perfect in the morning...”
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Self Control