Chapter Eight

Bella

A girl of six sits on a tire swing that hangs from an old oak tree in her backyard.

Her arms hold tightly to the sides of the tire, her legs stretched out in front of her.

She tilts her head back and closes her eyes...letting everything fall away.

Everything but...

The creaking of the tree branch as she spins in lazy circles.

The tickle of her cheeks and nose as wisps of dark brown hair dance in the afternoon breeze.

The chorus of leaves all around her, rustling and crunching until the thousands of them sound like one.

Opening her eyes, she stares up at the canopy of branches overhead. She watches the sunlight, how it blinks and flashes as the trees dance in the wind. The brief lull in her revelry is enough for everything that falls away...to come rushing back.

She can now hear the 'I hate you, you ruined my life!'

The muffled sound of a heated argument within the walls of her house.

The heavy footsteps as they take their spat from room to room.

The shattering of a plate as her mother tries to get her point across.

She hears the slam of a door, but not the silent tears that are cried from behind it.

Flattening her feet to the ground, she spins until the rope is twisted and taut. Pushing off with the tip of her shoe, she propels herself back into the glorious pirouette of innocence. The wind curls into her ears and drowns the world back out again. Her eyes close, and she sees nothing but the bright orange glow of sunlight through her eyelids.

And she stays there. She swings and spins and twirls in the bliss of ignorance.

Until the sun hides behind the trees and she realizes, as always, that neither of them will come for her.

And as the years come and go, the wide-eyed little girl will learn of all of the ways that this world can tear you down. She'll kick and scream and fight to stay above water. And when the damaged...and damaging...man in black crosses her path, she'll discover things about herself that she may never have known...whether she wants to or not.


~fywfywfywfyw~


"Come on in, Bella, have a seat. Go ahead and close the door behind you, please?"

I swallow down the panic I feel and do as she asks. She sounds as pleasant as always, but the call I got this morning from her asking me to meet her at the offices of Windsor Events had my mind running in a million different directions.

Was I being fired? This isn't even a job!

Is she going to tell me she doesn't want to mentor me anymore?

Oh God. What if Alice talked to her? Shit. Shit. Shit.

I settle into the chair across from her desk and my mind goes back to a similar situation in Professor Banner's office. Instinctually, I know that her words won't be too far off from his. Words of warning.

My nerves catapult.

Kate looks up at me with a gentle smile and takes her glasses off, laying them down on the desk and sitting back in her chair. She regards me politely, but seriously.

"I like you, Bella. In the short time that we've known one another, I've noticed quite a bit about you."

My stomach hollows out. I know it's impossible for her to know, but it doesn't stop the image of me being bent over a table and taken from behind by Edward.

She gestures to a folder on her desk. "I can tell by your transcripts that you're very intelligent. You seem to work very hard in school. Can I speak frankly with you, Bella?"

I swallow down the 'please don't' that wants out and simply nod.

"I'm not sure whether you'll pursue event planning or not, but I do know that there is quite a bit to learn from the Mentor Program. You have the chance to gain invaluable experience in a business setting, and forgive me, Bella, but you seem somewhat...checked out."

I look down at my hands and nod again, at a loss for the words to respond. She's right. Meeting the Cullens threw me for a complete loop. I can only imagine how my behavior has seemed to her. I can hardly tell her the truth of why I've been so on edge around them.

"As I said, I know that you're very bright, Bella. I'd hate to see you waste an opportunity like this. I feel like I haven't seen you apply yourself so far. And I wanted to give you the chance to change that. I see incredible potential in you, but it's up to you to step up to the plate and want this. It'd be a shame to see you stand in your own way. Or to have to give the opportunity to someone else. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Shit.

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry if I've seemed...off lately. I've been working a lot lately. I've just been tired. I promise that I'll be more present from now on, Kate. And thank you for giving me the chance to do better."

She smiles at me, satisfied that she's gotten her point across. She isn't a malicious person. I believe her when she says she'd hate to have to let me go. I feel thankful that she didn't decide to just wash her hands of me and take on another mentee. I need to get my ass in gear.

"Good then. I'd like to hear more input from you. To see you take more initiative in our future meetings with Alice and Esme. And starting next week, we'll get you in here for a better look at the business side of things. And who knows? Maybe after you see all the paper pushing involved, you'll be running for the hills."

She winks and smiles at me. I know she's trying to use humor to dry up the seriousness of the situation. I give a small smile back, my fondness for Kate growing all the more.

~o~

Tuesday is uneventful. That is, until I'm seated in my booth after my shift at the Westin. I'm taking the brief break before class to rest my feet when my phone beeps alerting me to a message...from the last person I'd expected.

1 new message from E.C. Asshat

I open the message and am more than wide awake.

Tonight. My place. Same time.

There's no way. My shift at the hotel starts at five o'clock. Between the drive to and from Forks, my sit down with Kate and the regular grind of my week, the thought of meeting up with Edward should hold absolutely no appeal to me. But I can't deny the slight twinge of disappointment I feel...or how sickened with myself I am for it.

I decide that texting him back is my best bet.

I can't today. I have work.

No more than a minute later, my phone rings.

E.C. Asshat calling

"H-hello?" Just as it always has with him, my voice wavers.

"Isabella." My body sags back into the booth at the sound of his voice.

Forceful and raw.

"Yes." Mine is breathy, subdued by his.

" I can't is not an acceptable answer. As a matter of fact, I don't recall asking you a question."

"I...I have to be at work-" He's not interested.

"What time do you get off?"

I want to tell him to kiss my ass.

That I said no, and that's it.

That I'm not his beck and call girl.

Nope, just his call girl.

But I fall in line.

"Two in the morning."

"My place. Three o'clock...sharp, Isabella."

I want to remind him of who was late the last time.

But I don't bother with a response. And he doesn't bother waiting on one before he hangs up.

"Like talking to a brick wall..." I'm muttering to myself under my breath when a purse and set of keys crashes down onto the table, followed by the flop of a body at my side.

"Goddamn. I think my tits are the only things that aren't sore. How the hell do you do this third shift shit every night, Swan?" Angela...as ladylike as ever.

I shrug and slide my phone back into my pocket. "You get used to it."

"So, who's like talking to a brick wall?"

"What?" I freeze and try to stall, not sure exactly how much she heard.

"On the phone just now. Who is just like talking to a brick wall?"

"Oh...uh...no one. Just...my mom." It feels awkward to mention Renee in conversation. Completely foreign.

"Ah. Enough said. Mine's a real winner, too." I keep to myself all of the ways her mother probably is in comparison to mine.

"So, Swan, where's that head of yours at?"

"What?"

"Don't bullshit me. You've been walking around in a daze for weeks now. What's up? Is it E.C. Asshat?" She's doing this strange thing where her eyebrows are bouncing and she's smiling all creepy like.

"What? Who? No! Of course not! What are you talking about?" I could have played it a tad cooler.

"It's okay, you know. If you have some hot hunk of man meat stashed away somewhere? You can tell me." Again with the bouncy eyebrows.

"Don't be ridiculous, Angela. There is no man meat."

"Right. And this isn't you blushing?" She giggles as she pokes a finger at my cheek and I bat it away.

"But seriously, Swan. You work too damn hard not to have a little fun too. A good hard fucking. That's the answer to all of life's problems, that's what I say."

When Angela leaves, I stay rooted in place...considering her words.

'A good hard fucking......'

~o~

After a boundless day of classes and another shift at the Westin, two thirty finds me in my car heading toward The Citadel. The glare of the street lights scan over my face every few seconds, like spotlights, as I drive. I try to think of something-anything-except the indecent anticipation that lingers just beneath the surface of my skin. It lurks there, waiting. Knowing what's coming. Knowing that it's nearly time now.

When the high rise comes into view, a transformation begins.

Although it washes over me uninvited, it is not unwelcome. Unsought, but not rejected.

I feel the tightly bound knot. I feel it there every second of every day. The incessant vice grip that my life takes hold on me. It stifles me. Restricts and smothers any chance of amity between my sanity and I.

But as I step past the security guard who doesn't bother with anything more than a nod to me now, I can feel a slacking in the near constant pressure I live under.

As I step into the elevator, the tether of my reality begins to sag.

Standing outside his door, I feel my circulation return. The rush of blood throughout my body. My heartbeat throbs all the way down to my fingertips.

And by the time I've raised my fist to knock, the transformation is complete.

When he opens the door, I want to drop to my knees. I want to shed every stitch of clothing that separates my skin from his.

The air feels so thick to me, like breathing in liquid. I'm drowning in my arousal.

Chaotic hair...shirtless...barefoot...only a pair of low slung sleep pants. And judging by the uninterrupted trail of hair...nothing else. Though my eyes are downcast, my ability to peripherally peruse him has improved considerably.

Wordlessly, he grabs me by my upper arm and pulls me inside. Slamming the door behind him, he guides me roughly down the hall and into his bedroom. Unlike the last time I was here, the bed is unmade. Slept in. The comforter and top sheet are tangled and twisted.

When he pushes me down face first onto the bed, his scent wafts up and at me. It's heady. Warm and redolent and masculine. I inhale deeply as it takes root and invades all of my senses. I don't want to fight the urge to taste it. To taste him.

So I don't.

And when my tongue meets cool, fragrant 500 thread-count, my eyes roll into the back of my head.

Abruptly, he uses his knees to nudge my legs apart.

His bare knees. He's naked behind me now.

He jerks the skirt of my uniform up and around my waist and the cool air hits my flesh. Goosebumps spread across my body and my nipples stiffen against the cotton of my bra.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. These?" Fisting my panties into a knot just below the small of my back, he snatches them upward, causing my back to arch and hoisting my ass up into the air. My forearms, chest and from my knees down to my feet are the only points of contact with the bed.

The material of my panties is digging into the flesh of my hips...and dipping into my slit. The pressure it applies there is superb...and when he moves to kneel between my spread legs...the shift...the wetness...it glides and rubs. The absence of hair only amplifies the sensation.

I fist the sheets beneath me and clench my jaw.

As is customary, he avoids contact with my back as he leans down and over my ear.

"I thought I told you about these, Isabella." On 'these', he pulls on them harder and I hang my head down.

His gives the slightest whisper of a laugh and I know he's feeling wicked tonight.

"Well, it's your money, right? Or did I buy these for you?" With another low chuckle, he leans back and wraps his hands around the material at my left hip and rips. He repeats the action on my right hip. In a move I've come to know well, he snatches my head back by my hair. When I realize his face is directly beside my own, I quickly shut my eyes.

"Open your mouth, Isabella." I do as I'm told and earn a mouthful...of cotton.

"Now, maybe this will help you remember for next time."

Swiftly and without warning, he rears back and I feel the sting of his palm on my ass. He alternates sides as he goes and my breathing spikes.

One, two, three, four times.

On the last, I'm unable to harness the grunt that comes from my throat. It's a sound of frustration. It would be frustration with myself for finding any pleasure in the way this feels. It would be...had I not chosen to check such introspective thoughts at the door.

There is no room for lucidity here. This is purely carnal.

"What am I going to with you, Isabella? Fucking whore that you are. I wonder how many poor bastards have dipped into this. Were you as bad of a listener for them as you are for me, huh?"

The next slap lands directly between my thighs. My body jerks and seizes altogether as he dips two fingers inside me.

The torture is ambrosial. He sheaths them all the way in, until his palm is flat to my ass, only to withdraw them fast and harsh. The friction it creates makes it difficult not to writhe back against his hand. So I do...


And again, I groan.

He pumps in and out of me hard one more time, pulls out, and then...

Slap.

Slap.

Slap .

Slap.

My pussy is throbbing...inside and out.

"Even fucking gagged, you can't keep that mouth closed, can you?"

The sound of the condom wrapper ignites a fire inside of me. The anticipation is torturous.

"Maybe I should try it on both ends then, huh?"

The heat of his thighs surround my own as he straddles them, forcing my body flat to the bed again. He lowers himself down on me and rests his cock right into the crack of my ass. I lift both arms and stretch them above my head, curling my fingers over the edge of the mattress. He plants one hand flat on either side of my shoulders and begins a slow, cruel thrusting.

"You know, Isabella, I'm starting to think you defy me on purpose."

His head moves from one ear to the other...taunting and jeering. His voice barely louder than a whisper.

In my left ear...

"Wearing panties when I specifically fucking told you not to. Using that mouth of yours for something other than swallowing my cock."

The thick weight of his cock is sinking deeper and deeper in between my cheeks, but not at an angle for penetration. He just keeps himself embedded there. Sliding up and down...

Up and down...

Up and down...

My hands are clamped down tightly to the edge of the mattress and my face is buried into the bed. I bite down into my panties and silently beg for mercy.

In my right ear again...

"Do you like it hard, Isabella? You like it when I fuck you hard? When I slap that ass?" He demonstrates with a particularly intense upward thrust followed by the sharp sting of his palm on my ass again.

Yes...

"Is that why you're fucking leaking all over my cock?" Another long, sharp thrust. Harder this time.

Yes...

"Yeah, I think that's it. You're just an insatiable little cock slut, aren't you, Isabella? I knew it. You just want my cock in you, don't you? You don't care what I tell you, right?"

God, please...
"Greedy...cock hungry...inconsiderate...little...whore." Upon the last word, he pulls back, aligns himself and slides inside of me.

He's worked my body up into such a frenzy, that by the time he slams inside of me, I very nearly come around him.

So much about tonight is the same.

The way he fucks me...fast and hard, wasting no time establishing a lethal pace.

The way he alternates between slapping my ass and pulling my hair.

The way he grunts and curses under his breath as he works me over.

But one thing about tonight is different.

My body's total and complete surrender to his. I'm done thinking about this. At least when I'm here. I wash my hands of the mental exhaustion that fighting it causes me. School, my parents, work, Kate and...this. It's all too much.

Something's got to give. And laying here underneath him...it does.

I feel the heat that the back of his thighs cause on the back of mine, and I bite down harder on the cotton in my mouth.

I feel the unbelievably tight angle at which he slams in and out of me, and my breathing, if possible, increases.

I feel the sting of my scalp as he mercilessly pushes and pulls my head back and forth, matching the rhythm of his thrusting, and I the burn begins.

When he pulls his bent knees inward, forcing my legs tighter together and increasing the friction I feel as he rides me from behind, I know I'm moments from shattering.

The sweat from both of our bodies mingles in between us, adding to the barrage of sensations that sends me hurdling directly off of the edge.

Silently, and with as little movement as possible, I come...hard. My body tenses up and my toes curl. My knuckles are throbbing from the painful hold I've kept on the edge of the bed. The hair is damp with sweat, clinging to my face and the back of my neck.

"Goddamnit!"

He yells out and doubles his efforts behind me. He's moving in and out of me so hard and so fast that I'm momentarily thankful for the panties in my mouth. At this rate, I could easily bite right through my tongue.

I turn my head to the side just in time for him to sit up and wrap both of his hands around my waist. His ring and pinky fingers dig into the front of my pelvic bone and his thumbs into the small of my back. With a flick of both wrists, he's pulled my ass up and into the air even further. Keeping his grip around my waist firm, he resumes the furious onslaught. He holds me tightly in place where he wants me.

Using me...

His hands disappear and my hips drop back down to the bed. I hear him remove the condom...and then he's back where he started.

He slaps his cock in between the cheeks of my ass and pushes them together with both of his hands, encasing himself. He gives five wet, hard thrusts and comes onto the small of my back and down my ass.

I'm completely devoid of the energy it would require to find offense.

In mere seconds, he's off of me and slamming the bathroom door behind him.

On the way out, I remember to take my little white envelope from the table.

And on the car ride home, I realize that I feel considerably more relaxed. I feel...sated. It's the first time I've left there and not succumb to instantaneous self-flagellation. I'm surprised at how...smug I feel.

Edward may have approached me. He may be paying me to provide a 'service' for him. I may hate the crude words that fall from his mouth every time it opens. He may be a selfish, miserable, misogynistic asshole who takes and takes without concern for me. But it doesn't mean that our arrangement can only benefit him.

Because tonight...I took too.