Rapture by AydenMorgen, M-Åš
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Rapture by AydenMorgen
In the blink of an eye, her ballet career ended. His as a DEA agent is now on the line and lives are
at stake, but when they meet on the dance floor, nothing even compares. Can they work together
to stop the Volturi or will rapture tear them apart? AH/OOC
Prologue - March, 2010
The music poured through the gaudy club in waves, the bass vibrating through the floor and into the
soles of her feet. It weaved through her body, awakening her and enticing her to lose herself in the
trance-like beat and move.
She obliged, raising her arms over her head and swaying her hips carefully to the beat. Long dark hair
cascaded down her back, glinting deep reds and dark browns in the pulsing, orbiting lights.
To the casual observer, she was simply enjoying the moment.
She knewdifferentlyndsodidheShedncedforhimndonlyforhimthesedysherbody
primingheropeninghereverysensendlevingherpoisedndchingforwhtsheknewhe
would do to her.
The music called to her like a Siren, hypnotizing and mesmerizing. It took over completely as her hips
circled and her lips parted, her head thrown back to expose the soft flesh of her throat. The room fell
away from her, erased completely in that moment of enrapture,. It was no longer enough just to
move to the beat, though. She needed more.
She needed him.
Her modest little skirt rode up her thighs as she swayed, oblivious to everything around her. Her
backless halter flowed across her body with the movement of her arms, revealing flashes of pale,
satiny skin to his absorbed gaze.
No matter how many times he saw the exact same scene unfold before him, the effects were the
same. Lust stabbed into him, tightening muscles deep in his stomach and hardening his already
aching cock. The same compulsion that left her gyrating alone and aching on the dance floor swept
through him.
It was animalistic, what she did to him. Primal. It demanded he mark her, claim her, give her what
her body sought with every beat and pulse of the music winding through her body. He stalked across
the dance floor toward her, his eyes locked upon her form and his attention closed to any but her.
She didn't notice him weaving toward her, of course, but she felt him. His presence was a physical
touch caressing across her skin and licking at her heightened senses. Energy unfurled inside,
spreading outward to cocoon them both.
Muscles tightened.
Moisture flowed.
His hand slid around her waist, his fingers sliding across the inch of skin flashing in the pulsing lights
as he pulled her back against him. She pressed her legs together, reveling in the jolt of pleasure that
shot through her body like an arrow at his touch.
"Edward." His name was a sigh of relief, an acknowledgment... an affirmation.
Her arms wound around his neck as his hand pressed against her hip, fingers curling around the bone
and gripping.
"Beautiful," he breathed into the skin of her neck, pressing his lean, hard body against hers.
She moaned as his cock rubbed against her and continued to sway to the beat, too far gone to still
her movements now. She wouldn't have even if she could.
This, music and need and desperation, was what they were. This was what they had always been.
"Do you want me?" he questioned, nipping at the pulse in her throat as she swayed against him, her
ass rubbing time and again against his straining cock. His own movements matched hers until they all
but flowed around one another, swaying and in their own little bubble of bass and need.
"Yes." One hand wound into his bronze locks, tugging and twisting.
"Here?" His hand inched down her hip and onto her thigh, sliding down the fabric of her skirt inch by
tantalizing inch. "Like this?"
Her blood sang louder in her veins, thrumming for him, for the music, for the moment.
"Yes." It was a breathy exhalation, a plea.
His fingers splayed across her marred thigh, skin to skin, and swept beneath the black fabric.
She whimpered; the call of the music muting and making way for another. For him and what he did
to her. Every part of her focused on him, attuned to his every breath, his every movement and his
every touch.
The rough fabric of his shirt whispered across her exposed shoulder blades.
Heat licked at her where their bodies touched. Even through the fabric, she could feel his warmth
calling to her, taunting her to wrap the heat around her and let them both burn again.
She wanted to. She wanted to burst into flame and explode into ash with him.
"Please," she begged as his hand crept up her thigh, seeking and searching for what was his and what
would always be his. "Please," she begged again, anticipation and desire building in her chest and
radiating outward until everything was swept into the feverish maelstrom he had always created in
her.
"Please what, beautiful?" he asked, his velvety voice lowering, darkening, as his palm slid higher. He
could feel the slippery silk of her desire on his fingers where moisture tracked slowly down her inner
thighs to coat her in her own sweet juices, but he needed her to say it, needed her to open her
mouth and tell him what every part of her craved from him.
Her hand fisted in his hair. Her lips parted invitingly.
His hand slid higher, fingers stroking lightly over her aching center. "No panties," he breathed softly,
pleased. "Good girl." His palm pressed firmly into her center, rewarding her for her boldness.
"Edward," she groaned his name as another jolt of pleasure shot through her, more intense than the
last.
One long finger danced along her folds, teasing.
"Tell me," he commanded softly, his breath coming in harsh pants in her ear.
"Touch me." She shivered as the plea spilled forth.
"Like this?" His finger slipped between her folds to ghost lightly across her clit.
She whimpered, her head falling back against his shoulder as the fire within threatened to consume
her whole. "Yes," she hissed between her teeth as he stroked again.
Another elegant finger joined the first, rubbing tight circles. "Like this?" His teeth raked across her
earlobe, the sting a sharp counterpoint to the pleasure his fingers was providing her.
"Yes, yes," she groaned.
"Or like this?" His fingers slipped inside her opening, pressing and spreading.
Her knees shook beneath the wanton onslaught. The fire grew, contorting into an inferno as his
fingers pumped into her. The music faded completely, replaced by a new beat, a new pulse; his
heartbeat against her back, her own thumping disjointedly in her chest. Blood rushed through her in
time to familiar, electric hums.
His free hand tightened around her waist, holding her still and steady to his ministrations.
"You like this," he murmured in her ear, his voice even darker and more guttural than before. "All of
these people around and not a single one even notices what I'm doing to you. You like that, don't
you?"
She did. Oh God, she did. It was a performance, a wicked dance
"Look at them, beautiful," he commanded, his fingers pumping into her faster. "Open your eyes and
look at them."
She did as he bid, her eyes opening slowly beneath heavy lids. The strobe lights flashed, glinting off
sweating bodies gyrating and contorting all around them. Even un-addicted, no one even looked in
their direction. No one saw what he was doing to her; his fingers buried in her center right there on
the dance floor.
No one ever saw what he did to her on the dance floor.
Every night, he invaded her body. Every night, he claimed her.
And no one ever noticed. Not even when his cock slipped between her folds and left her sobbing in
pleasure.
God save her, she loved it. She loved the way he played her body, turning her into someone she
didn't recognize and didn't know. Someone desperate and aching. She loved the way he moved
around her, inside of her. He drove her to madness time and again. Every time.
"Do you want me?" he asked again as her body began to quicken to his touch, every muscle
tightening in anticipation of the explosion about to rock through her. "Here? Now?" His cock pressed
insistently against the flesh of her ass.
"Please, Edward," she pleaded with him in harsh pants and quick gasps, writhing beneath his touch
with her eyes still trained on the oblivious crowd grinding around them. "Oh God, please."
She was going to explode. Any minute, her body was going to fold in upon itself in pleasure, her
bones melting as he drove her over the edge into mindless, senseless pleasure. But he would not let
her fall over the edge.
It was too soon.
His fingers slowed as her walls threatened to clench and then slid from her body altogether.
She cried out at the loss of sensation, her hand fisting harder into his hair and jerking his head
backward.
He hissed in pleasure and pain at that rough touch, his hips bucking roughly into her.
"Taste yourself," he commanded, sliding his hand up her body and to her mouth. "Taste how sweet
you are. How ready for me you are."
Her tongue darted out hesitantly and wrapped around one finger, sucking it deep into her mouth
withoutquestionShewhimperedsshetstedherselfonhimSweetndsltyhertstendscent
mingling with his own.
"Fuck." His hips bucked into her again as pleasure at her boldness slammed through him.
She whimpered again and released his finger before pulling the other into her mouth. Her teeth
nipped at the pad of his finger, sharp and insistent as she lapped her own juices from that heavenly
instrument.
Edward groaned as another wave of lust stabbed through him, holding him in thrall to her all over
again. "Touch me." His words were less commanding now. They wavered on the edge of a plea and
she knew he was caught.
Soon enough, he would wrest control back - command her again - but for now, he gave it up to her
willingly, as desperate as she.
Her hand slid down his neck, heavy and faintly aching from the position in which she had held it for
so long. It slipped between their pressing bodies, dancing lightly along his erection through the fabric
of his jeans.
He groaned again, his fingers digging lightly into her hip.
Her fingers danced along the line of his erection again and closed over the pull to his zipper.
"Yes," he hissed, urging her on when her fingers stilled, taunting and teasing him as only she would
ever do.
She inched the zipper down slowly, knowing there was no turning back now if there ever had been.
She wanted this, wanted him like this. That never changed.
His breath rasped in her ear. Her hand slid inside, parting the opening of his boxers with ease.
"You want me," she told him, reveling in what this knowledge did to her. It empowered her, inflamed
her further.
"Yes," he hissed again.
Her lips curved upward in satisfaction as he gave her the word that always made her heart swell.
Her fingers closed around his length, releasing him from the restricting confines of his jeans.
His head fell back, his eyes rolling as her hand moved along him, squeezing. Strobe lights pulsed
against his closed lids, flashing light and sensation in distorted, shaded patterns across his beautiful
face.
She pumped and stroked expertly, driving him into the same frenzy of need he had driven her into
with each thrust of his fingers inside of her.
"Beautiful," he groaned and reached between them to still her hand when he could take no more of
her wanton torment.
"Fuck me, Edward," she whispered, turning her head to run her own teeth along his earlobe as he
had so recently done to her.
His eyes met hers, triumph blazing in those vivid green depths at her words. "Here?" he asked,
turning her to face him. "Now?"
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