ForePlay

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Originally submitted to the Southern Fan Fiction Review for Sandy's Tantalizing Tuesday segment.

SUMMARY: Professional Golfer, Edward Cullen gets more than he bargained for when he finally gets the caddy he's always dreamed of…having.

**originally posted to fanfiction.net on July 11, 2011**

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~ Edward Cullen POV ~

The PGA Tour.

Where the top dogs of golf come out to strut their stuff…maybe get that hole in one on the three par finally, and hopefully not hit any innocent bystanders with the infamous shank of the balls.

No pun intended.

This was my fourth year on the tour.

Fourth year.

That's six-hundred and twenty-four total rounds, including practice…over two-hundred and eight weeks throughout those four years. One-thousand-three-hundred and fifty-six balls were lost.

Over a hundred woman were met on tours…and yeah, maybe some of them were sexed up a little bit but I swear, they weren't married…or hookers.

That I know of.

I'd won some tournaments….a lot actually…but had also lost some….embarrassingly…and I'd even managed to strike up a few excellent relationships with some of the A number one promotional agents in the United States.

Hell, I even landed five or six of the most popular sponsors to help with the bills during the off months.

But I'd never once gotten that caddy of all caddies.

What are the odds on that, I wonder.

And no, I'm not referring to the one that might actually help your game. Although she did that, too.

I'm talking about Bella Swan.

One of the most experienced caddies on the tour.

Five foot something shorter than most women…hips you wanna grab and pull into you…deep brown eyes that seem to have the knowledge of a hundred golfers tucked away in them… a smile any man would die to see hovering above him…or under him…and a laugh that was…

Well…music.

No, I was never awarded her assistance. Instead, I watched as my buddies…or nemesis'… got her…watched them win rounds by mere strokes because of her genius….laugh at whatever the fuck she was saying at times…and then follow her with the green eyed monster as she'd leave and go to wherever she spent her days and nights, outside of the golfing world.

She was perfect.

And I'm not talking physically perfect, either.

Mostly.

I'm talking, she knows her stuff, she's bad ass and she is like the golden ticket from Willy Wonka that you just…you have to have, no matter what.

She was rumored to be the dahlia lama of the golfing world and I was the one guy who hadn't had his chance at partnering up with her.

But today...

I was gonna will it to happen.

I was gonna use my golfers insight to make the odds tip in my favor, for once.

I needed this win.

Wanted this win.

Tiger Woods was pissing me off with his holier than thou bullshit and he needed someone to put him in his place, for once.

Take him down a peg or two.

I was that guy.

And today was the day.

"You nervous, Ed?" my good friend and confidant asked me as we got into line to listen as the names were picked that we'd be partnered up with.

"No."

"Sick?"

I hesitated.

"No."

"What's wrong with you?" he asked again, as I anxiously swayed from side to side, eying up my competition.

"Nothing."

He followed my line of sight over to the caddies.

"You're fantasizing about the Swan girl again, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Emmett."

"You are," he whisper yelled, amused, and I elbowed him with my swinging arm. "You gotta let it go, dude…she's way out of your league anyway."

"Shut. The fuck. Up…Em." And what did he mean by that anyway?

He chuckled to himself, shaking his over grown monster head at me and the crowd became silent as the announcer took his spot.

As he picked the names of the caddies that would be matched up to their golfers for the day, I focused on the name that would be mine.

I bit my thumb nail as one by one, they dwindled and then finally, it was down to me…and a few other guys.

"Edward Cullen, will have…." he started and I eyed her from across the lawn, noticing the smile she wore, when chatting it up with her caddy pals.

Somehow she'd felt my stare and looked right at me, but I wasn't breaking the concentration I had going. I glared back at her.

I had to.

And she kept my gaze, sending me signals I couldn't quite comprehend.

I started my silent mantra as the starter dipped his hand into the bowl of names.

Please give me Bella Swan, please give me Bella Swan…give. Me. The. Swan.

He pulled the tiny piece of paper out and read it to himself, first.

Bella Swan…Bella Swan….Bella Swan….

"Mike Newton."

"Sonofamotherfucker."

"Excuse me," he said over his glasses, as the caddies across the lawn, including Bella Swan, eyed me curiously in response to my outburst. I cleared my throat, avoiding eye contact with her at all costs.

"Um..nothing, thank you sir."

Emmett McCarty chuckled silently, next to me, nudging me in the ribs. "Dude."

"Fuck off, Emmett," I told him one last time, and then left to go for some practice swings before the day's round began.

It wasn't long before the last player, who had ultimately been assigned my caddy, got deathly ill and had to go home.

Some said it was the wings he'd eaten at lunch time.

Some said he had the clap.

I couldn't be sure which it was but it really didn't matter.

Did it?

What I did know was, that left Bella Swan free to caddy…and I eyed Mike Newton, thinking of ways to get rid of him.

A push in front of a line drive?

A trip into the lake, maybe?

"Did you eat, yet, you look hungry," I said to him. "Here," I pulled out a twenty. "Go get yourself some wings."

Mike waved me off, though. "Thank you Mr. Cullen, but I already ate…I'm perfectly…"

Then he was down.

Took a face plant, into the turf, right in front of me, and at first I thought he'd fainted, until the golf ball bounced…off of his head and into my hand.

"What the…" I looked at it, then scanned around at the golfers who were also on the driving range, to see who'd beamed my caddy in the back of the head with their shank, but no one was fessing up. So I did what anyone would do who'd just been given the chance of a life time.

"Bella Swan!" I called out, as she was walking away from the area, to go home probably. She turned to me, with bright eyes and raised eyebrows, suddenly noticing my caddy, passed out on the ground before me.

She looked up to me and asked, "Did you…kill him?" smiling. "Because I have friends who can get rid of that body, for you."

And that's when I knew it was going to be a good day.

Until, that is…by the end of the first hole, I'd swung and missed, twice, created a divot that might just possibly be mistaken for a sink hole in the state of Florida, and missed a two foot putt like it was a fifty yarder.

I'd officially screwed my game.

And it was all…Bella. Swan's. Fault.

Or rather…her polo's fault, that she either had neglected to button up on purpose, or just forgot to…which was giving me the most fantastic view of her cleavage.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

Not to mention the fact that, hello…was that thing two sizes too small or what?

It was distracting.

And yet, I couldn't look away as she bent down to eyeball the line of my shot on the putting green for me.

Also hopelessly unavoidable, was the shape of her ass as she squatted down the way she did…

Jesus fucking Christ.

After I missed it, despite her expert analysis on the lie of the ball, she walked up next to me while I watched my competition sink his thirty footer. Then proceed to fist bump his caddy, while giving me the ever pompous, I just creamed your ass, look.

Dick.

And she was standing a little too close for comfort.

"Are you having the yips?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, seemingly concerned.

"What?" I whispered back, dumbfoundedly. "No, I think you have great tits."

She moved her focus from the green, to me. "What?"

Shit.

I coughed a fake cough. "What?"

She hid the giggles from everyone but me. "Thank you, Mr. Cullen," she said as she walked away, shimmying just a little more than she had on previous holes.

Jesus Christ.

Things didn't get much better on the next hole, either, when she asked me before I headed for the tee box, "Would you like your spoon?"

I chuckled at her question. "Hell no…I never spoon."

"What?"

Then I realized, she probably wasn't asking me about my sleeping habits. I mean, why would she be asked me about my sleeping habits?

"I'm sorry, you said…"

"I…asked if you…wanted your spoon…you know, your three wood?"

Wood.

"Ummmm."

Shit.

"I'm sorry," she said, pushing some hair behind her ear. "My grandfather used a lot of the old slang terms with me when he was teaching me when I was younger. It's…just a habit that's hard to break."

And Jesus, I'm an idiot.

"Yes," I told her, trying to hide my obvious pervy nature. "Three wood is great."

By hole number five, I was hearing what she was saying, but my mind was interpreting them in ways I couldn't control. I decided I was going to have to pay a visit to my therapist when I got home, this time because …Bella Swan was officially driving me…completely…insane.

"You might want to choke up on your shaft a little more, this time, Mr. Cullen," she instructed as she held a club out to me.

I closed my eyes as she handed me the driver, trying not to imagine choking my…shaft, while thinking about Bella Swan's lips around the tip of it.

It's just another tournament, Cullen. Jesus. You'd think you never saw a woman before.

I walked up to the tee box.

Lots of women have made sexual innuendo with you at these things.

I bent over, teeing the ball up, and then looked down the fairway, envisioning where I wanted the small orb to go.

It's not like she's anything special.

Right?

And my eyes couldn't help but glance over at her.

She was cleaning my balls.

My balls.

Her mouth…

She caught me watching her and just smiled over at me as she pumped the handle on the ball cleaner. Which didn't help the whole thinking about her mouth on my balls thing, since she had just about the nicest pair of lips I'd ever seen.

I nodded and looked away, fiddling with my driver.

Stop it.

And trying to remain focused while your sexy female caddy is saying things like, forward press, and stroke play, was not easy.

But somehow, I managed to get a few good shots in that afternoon.

At Miss Swan's advice of course.

I wasn't kidding when I said she was genius. She read the slopes, felt the wind and shaved a few points off of my game for me by the near end of the round.

She was like the fucking golf whisperer or something.

"Maybe you should use the mashie," she suggested on hole number seventeen.

I cocked an eyebrow down at her. "The what?"

"Sorry, it's an old term, I meant five iron, of course."

"Right, of course," I tried playing it off but she put a hand on my arm.

It was just the right amount of soft and warm in my opinion.

"Are you okay?"

Relative question, Miss Swan.

"I'm fine…I think."

"Here," she said, handing me the six iron and I questioned her silently, seeing how she'd just insinuated I needed the five.

"You've got some gusts that are throwing you off today. I think if you go up an iron it'll extend your ball's force a few more feet."

Extend my balls force.

Did she seriously just fucking say that?

"Mr. Cullen?"

I hadn't realized I was daydreaming until she said my name another two or three times.

"Sorry, you're right, of course…thank you Miss Swan."

"And you need to work on your pull and push."

Preaching to the choir, Miss Swan…preaching. To. The. Choir.

"Right, thanks," I said, half smirking my way to the fairway.

That was until she told me to, "Make sure you hit that sweet spot."

She was trying for encouragement, of course, but what it reaped was complete, and utter, total, un-focused Edward Cullen who, as I gripped the club in my hand, couldn't help but wonder where Bella Swan's sweet spot was. When I went to swing, I completely missed, swung too hard and wiped myself completely off of my feet.

"Shit," was all I could muster as I hit the ground, flat on my back, knocking the wind right out of me.

I coughed.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she asked, hovering over me as she held a hand out to help me up.

"Jesus," I muttered, getting up into a standing position again. "Yeah…I just…"

"Your whole alignment was off on that one," she said and I closed my eyes, reaching around with both hands to rub the lower back pain I'd just caused myself. "No shit."

By the last shot of the last whole of the day, I was done.

Over.

Finito.

Dug a hole and then buried myself in it.

I was eight over par and there was no hope for me, but I'd resigned to just doing my best to make up for awful playing over the next three rounds.

I was trying to read the green of my putt when I heard her next to me. "You might wanna try for the back door on this one."

I let out a sigh.

Because although I knew in my head that she meant to steer the putt so that it rolled around the cup and into it from the back side….my other head was thinking about Bella Swan's back door.

If you know what I mean.

"Could you just…" I started and then waved her off to hopefully, successfully hint that she should leave me to end the game in my own misery.

She was smart.

She got it.

And when I was done with my thought process, I took my putt, watching the ball roll exactly as I'd planned…along the tilts, straight for the hole and I smiled, watching it heading directly toward the cup…and then stop.

Right at the edge of the fucking hole.

I took a deep breath in…and let it out just before I heard my caddy again. "Man, that ball is right at the lip."

"I wish," I said, thinking that was the one thing that could make my day better. Bella Swan's lips…on my balls.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," I told her, looking into her eyes and I thought, how could I be pissed with her? She was just doing her job.

Well, actually…it was me who was taking everything she said in the most inappropriate way ever.

"Thanks for today, Miss Swan," I told her and she smiled.

And yes, the same smile I would be fantasizing about later…the one I'd love to see hovering over me as I slid into her.

"I didn't really do you much good," she said, apologetically but I smiled down at her. "You did more than you'll ever know."

Then we went our separate ways, after I turned in my score card and watched Bella Swan pack her things.

I headed to the showers after that, thinking about all the words she'd chosen throughout the day…how I'd taken them. As I sat down to change, I saw her smile in my mind's eye and let the fantasies continue that I'd started out on the course.

And realized I had a hard on like no other.

I looked around at the other golfers.

I couldn't undress like that.

It just wasn't gonna happen.

So I sat there with my dick at attention, keeping me company, refusing to soften, as golfers filtered in and out…making their digs about the worst game of my life.

"Nice game, Cullen."

"Yeah, way to sock it to Tiger, man."

"You were my only hope, Edward…what happened?"

And they simply assumed I was struggling mentally, as I smiled politely, said the proper replies and stayed professional as the jabs came and went. When the last of the golfers were finally gone, I undressed to get a shower.

Hard on still intact, of course…

Making a mental note to never…ever, make an attempt at having Miss Swan as my caddy again.

Ever.

Some things were just not meant to merge with my golf game.

I turned the shower's water on and let the hot run for a while before adding just the right amount of cold. The steam filled the shower room and I leaned forward, hands against the wall in front of me, letting the scalding water fall against my back.

Hoping it would wash away the disappointment I was feeling in my self control throughout the day.

Then I soaped my hands up and wrapped one of them around the shaft of my dick, closing my eyes, thinking about Bella Swan and her…fucking play on golf terminology from the golf round, earlier...imagining her hand…and her lips…and her…everything.

"Yes…Bella….that's nice…." I said quietly, just under my breath as I pumped slowly, imagining her as a tease.

She seemed like a tease.

Just as I was getting a good motion going, I heard feet walking toward me from behind.

And shit, I didn't think the cleaning crew would be coming through for another hour or so…

"Sorry, I'm just…" I started to explain myself…somehow…but then…a female voice interrupted me.

"I thought I'd…help you with your game, some…if you…wanted," she said softly and my eyes were glued to the wall I was still leaning up against with my free hand.

The other hand was still on my dick.

She had to have been standing right behind me.

Bella Swan.

I'd know that voice anywhere.

And there were no shower curtains…so she clearly had to have known what I was doing.

Talk about awkward…

"Miss…" My voice cracked a little when I started to answer her, and I had to clear it before I continued. "Miss Swan…?"

She was closer, then. I could hear her voice just behind me.

She had to have been getting wet.

Please tell me she's wet.

In more ways than one.

What had she just said to me?

"I don't normally do this, Mr. Cullen," she whispered seductively. "I always just kind of appreciated your…" she hesitated just a moment before continuing, "Libido…from a far, but…spending that kind of time with you today…being that close to you…and some of the things you were saying…I just…"

And then a hand slinked around my waist.

Slowly.

Painstakingly.

It was clear she wasn't wearing…anything and then my hand was covered with another one.

A smaller, softer hand.

My eyes closed, as I felt a finger or two brush my balls, gently.

Fuck me.

Fuck me goooooood.

"Thought maybe you'd like a few…pointers?"

Desperate to avoid any nervous stuttering in front of my muse, I swallowed and then asked her, "What did you have in mind, Miss Swan?"

She hesitated, but not for long, guiding my hand up and down my dick. "Well for starters," she rasped. "You could use a little practice choking up on that shaft of yours a little more."

And holy shit, she was playing on golf terms.

Again.

"Mmmm hmmmm?"

Mother of the baby Jesus, she felt good.

"Then," her other hand reached around, massaging my nut sack…

Quite talentedly, I might add.

Her nipples were hard, pressed against my back, and I let my eyes close at the feel of her against me.

"You should always remember to take care of your balls."

"Really."

And I'm barely whispering at that point.

Because Bella Swan, my recent caddy whom I was having highly inappropriate fantasies about out on the golf course of one of Americas most high profile games, has one hand on my dick and the other on my balls.

And it feelt…gooooood.

"Mmmm," she hummed as her thumb rubbed over… "And make sure your head is lined up properly."

"H…head…right."

"I noticed you choked a few times today, Mr. Cullen," she informed me and that was when I let myself turn around to see her.

All of her.

Her brown hair, wet under the shower, the steam, engulfing the two of us there…alone…in the men's shower room.

"I'm…pretty sure you can call me Edward, now, Miss Swan," I told her, letting a hand find the side of her face while the other found one of those nipples that had been pressed up against my back a few moments before.

She hissed and her body moved, giving me a tell tale sign that she was just as bothered by me, apparently, as I was with her. "Ditto...Edward."

Our eyes locked, saying things neither of us dared say at that point and, without much thought on either of our parts, our lips met.

The soft, experienced movements she made with her mouth against mine were driving my libido into overdrive as her hands did wonderous things to my groin area, and my hands just...could not get enough of her.

I let them move to her waist and I lifted her up, as her legs instinctively locked themselves around me. Bella Swan was now up against the shower wall. Her breasts pressed up against me...her, other areas, teasing the living shit out of me.

"Hold onto the towel rack," I warned her as I backed up just a tad, exposing her to me even more. She did as I let a hand slide down between us, finding that tender wetness enveloping her clit.

I dipped a finger into her, and her eyes closed as she held onto that towel rack. I just prayed to God it had been installed properly and wouldn't break in the middle of my testing of the waters...so to speak.

"Does this feel good, Bella?" I asked her, as I circled her swollen nerve ending. She licked her lips, humming as she nodded.

I dipped another in, pushing a little deeper. "This?"

"God, yes."

And Jesus...she was so alluring. The blush in her cheecks from the steam...the look in her eyes when she'd open them every so often to see me...what I was doing to her...

When I couldn't take it anymore, I set her down onto her feet, but she still held onto that towel rack for dear life as I lowered myself to taste her for myself.

The fingers just weren't cutting it anymore.

I spread her lips, letting my tongue dip between her folds, and then one of Bella's legs went to my shoulder, helping me to gain a more prominent position.

I smiled at her enthusiasm as she moved against my mouth during the invasion I was conducting on her body. And when I felt her movements become a little more urgent, I moved my mouth to her clit, moving my fingers back inside of her, curling around to where I knew she'd...

"Oh my God..." she breathed, gripping the towel rack tightly as I sucked and licked and dove my fingers deeper until she came.

Hard. "Jesus...Edward," she moaned out and I let her finish like the good little boy I am, but by then I was hard and ready and quite desperate for other areas to enter Bella's hot bed of ecstasy quite frankly. So I stood up, kissed her again and then picked her up entirely, this time moving us to a more conducive part of the shower room.

The bench.

I set her down, feet first on the floor, then sat down on that bench, pulling her on top of me, letting her run the show…and she did.

Golf terminology and all.

"Is this your…preferred lie, Edward?" she asked me, and I shivered a little at the sound of my name coming off of her lips.

I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

"It is, Bella," I answered and she smiled, arching up only long enough to align herself, then she told me, "You have to have a good open stance for such things, you know."

And I knew.

Jesus Christ, did I know.

As she let herself slide down onto me, the warmth, the hardness, the wetness…all of it combined just made me want to explode on impact. I held on to her hips, moving inside of her, ready to feel the orgasm already but then she threw me off guard again.

She rolled her hips, letting her nipples just barely graze my chest as she did and it was more than I could take.

She dipped her head, kissing my neck...my jaw, finally landing on my mouth, and we moved in syncronicity until she came up with yet another idea for us.

"How would you like to try a…reverse pivot, Edward?"

She was grinding and moving and licking her lips like she was going to consume me, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt at that moment…I'd let her.

I'm tellin' you…Bella Swan could talk golf to me like that every day for the rest of my life, and I would be a happy man.

I nodded and she indeed pivoted around, so I was behind her. Then she used her hands to balance herself on the bench as she pushed her ass upward a little. I moved into a different position myself then, too, unable to control the urgent movements I made against her.

"You feel impeccable, Miss Swan," I mumbled, and her light giggles and heavy breathing told me that perhaps she was feeling the same way. "So good."

She wriggled and pushed back onto me with animalistic movements as she told me in between harsh breaths, "Nice…follow through…"

My hands slinked around to the front of her, finding her breasts, squeezing them...pinching nipples that I'd found and she encouraged me to go further...harder.

Then I pulled her toward me so that she was standing upright again, and I kissed along the bare shoulder in front of me...realizing the sheer brilliance of Bella Swan. Not only on the outside...but on the inside as well.

And as deep as I was pushing into her...I didn't feel like I was deep enough.

"Yes," I grunted. "Fuck me..." I wished I had better stamina, but she was sincerely, the best lay so to speak that I'd had in quite some time.

With or without the golf slang.

"I think…" she said, with labored breathing, "I'm gonna…"

"Yes…" I pushed harder…faster and then we both came…inexplicably together because seriously…how often does that happen?

"Jesus…" I said, catching my breath. She turned around, straddled me and laid a kiss on me like no one else could.

Her lips were soft and smooth and genuine and she pushed her chest against me, telling me things I only hoped to hear her say out loud, one day.

Not so soon, of course.

But it was there, none the less.

That powerful feeling that overwhelms you only once…maybe twice in a lifetime.

My hands found her everything, settling on her small hips and then tangled around, up her perfectly arched back and to her neck until finally, we broke the kiss.

"You are…amazing," I told her in between light brushes of my lips along her neck bone...her shoulder...her neck.

"Not so bad of a trajectory, yourself, Edward," she answered, smiling.

"Exactly what terminology would you give what just transpired, Miss Swan?"

"I'd call that a hole in one, of course," she teased and we laughed at the cheesiness of it all, but hell, she did know her terminology.

"Can I take you out sometime?" I asked and she told me, "I'd love that."

Then I added, hoping not to hurt her feelings, "Just not out on the golf course…" and she giggled again, nuzzling her face into my shoulder.

When we finally could both stand again, we got up and began dressing.

I couldn't stop looking at her and thinking how the day had played out.

Sure, I'd lost the first round of the tourney…but it wasn't like I'd lost any sponsors, and there was still the rest of the weekend to make a comeback.

Maybe I could get her to caddy for Tiger.

"What?" she asked, smiling as she pulled her polo back over her head.

"I was just thinking how lucky I am that Mike Newton got that shanked ball to his head this morning."

She let out an amused sort of sigh and then pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing and told me, "Oh, I don't know about luck…" as she pulls her khakis up over those perfect hips of hers. "I was co-captain of my college's girls fast pitch softball team for three years, so, I'd say it was more like…skill."

NICE.