Pahbiiriblogi soovitab: Jõuluostud 2011 (2)

järgmine vihje päkapikkudele tuleb meile juba ammu armsaks saanud valdkonnast: ILUKIRJANDUS.

raamat, mis ringkondades on paremini tuntud nime all The University of Edward Masen by Sebastien Robichaud

 

TULEB NÜÜD KÄTTE ODAVAMALT KUI VÕILEIB

 

kirjandushuvilistele ka väike tutvustav lõiguke originaalteosest:

Is that what he would want? Is that what he would demand? Tearing her clothes off, shoving her onto her naked stomach, pushing into her from behind . . . to not even look into her eyes as he took her virginity, no kisses, no love-making, nothing but aggression and domination.

Bella only knew of his sexual predilections from the photographs, and the fact that he had described what he did to women as fucking.

Her breathing began to speed as panic washed over her and she heard an old voice in her head,"I want to fuck you like an animal.”

Edward returned just then, wearing a hunter green t-shirt and a pair of Black Watch tartan pyjama bottoms.

He placed a glass of water on the nightstand next to one of the candles, and then he pulled the covers back on the bed and lifted Bella so that he could place her under the sheets.

He undid her sneakers and gently pulled off her socks.

Bella flinched, but he pretended not to notice and reclined on his side by her feet, drawing them close to his chest. Then he began to tenderly caress the soles of her feet and her toes, rubbing gently and making her moan in spite of herself.

"Relax, Isabella. Don‘t fight it. This is supposed to be nice."

He murmured from time to time, more to himself than to her, and at one point Bella thought she heard him say la sua immagine. But she couldn‘t be sure. His voice was low, like a whisper, or a prayer.

Bella silently wondered which debauched gods he was addressing, and just as silently begged them to aid in her escape, instead.

Please don‟t let him consume me.

"I seem to recall that you liked my Magdalen College boxer shorts. They‘re in the top drawer, if you‘d like to borrow them. They don‘t fit me anymore."

Bella sniffled.

"Your pictures. The ones you used to have on the wall. Is that what you want . . . with me?"

Edward‘s hands stilled against her feet. "What?"

Bella‘s eyes darted nervously to where the sixth photograph had hung and then back to Edward.
His face morphed rapidly from surprise into horror.

"Of course not, Isabella. What do you take me for?" His voice was a tragic, offended whisper.
"You‘re here, you‘re tired. I don‘t want to run the risk of losing you again before we talk." He smiled smally. "I wanted to make you a breakfast tray with parsley and orange sections, not take your virginity. And certainly not like that."

Edward shook his head. "I‘m not a barbarian."

When she didn‘t respond, he placed her tiny feet under the covers.
He tucked her in as if she were a child and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.

"Let‘s try to forgive one another, shall we? We‘ve both been hurt and we‘ve both wasted so many years. Let‘s not waste any more time jumping to conclusions."

Then he stood up and began rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"It‘s quite possible you won‘t want me tomorrow, anyway," he muttered. "Call me if you need anything."

ma ei tea.... midagi haiseb magusasti... kas siin lõhnab järgmise lugemispäevikukandidaadi järele?