AWriterNamedABL

The Neighbor - Chapter 1 - The Run-In

2010-12-13T14:31:00.000-08:00

Summary: A chance meeting turns into unbridled attraction and a month of hot days and even hotter nights. Can a relationship be grounded on toe-curling, mind-blowing sensuality?

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9

Chapter 1: The Run In

"Bills, Bills, junk mail, coupon for $5.00 off my next teeth cleaning, birthday card from Charlie, bills..."

Wall.

My body met a solid structure with a muted thud and my handful of letters, flyers, circulars and other crap went flying.

Wait.

This wall wasn't concrete; it was clothed, and warm and soft, but solid. It was the warmest wall I'd ever run into. And trust me; I've had my share of run-ins with walls.

"Oh! Excuse me..."

"Oh, no, it was my fault..." the wall said.

"I am such a klutz sometimes..."

"No, I saw you there. I just..." it tried to explain.

"I just..." I finally looked up from shuffling the stack of mail, various forms of paper, and shit now littering the entryway of my building and saw the wall.

This wall of...man.

…Beautiful, gorgeous, man.

"I uh..." I couldn't quite formulate what was happening to me, or rather, come up with anything witty or even cohesive to say. So, save for giving any real form of communication, I stood there, mouth agape, mesmerized.

His skin...

It was perfect and smooth; a shade of reddish-brown that made me want to reach out and touch...

"Sorry about that, I..." He trailed off when our eyes met, blinked and then continued. "...I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going, either."

That voice.

He had the deepest baritone that strummed over every part of my body like a well-tuned instrument.

He grabbed my elbow to steady my uneasy and wobbly legs and there was electricity.

I felt it just as sure as I am here breathing. He looked at me with a furrowed, confused brow.

Had he felt it too?

"No, no...I just. I have a run in with something or someone at least once a day. It's God's own little way of mocking me,"

Chuckle. Genuinely amused. Not at me, with me.

I could deal with that.

Then he looked at me with those eyes – so deep brown and soulful – like a laser cutting straight through me. Mine where brown too, but like chocolate. His were near black, like the gorgeous head of hair atop his head, and seemed to darken the longer we stood there in that hall. His eyes dragged over my body wantonly, and I thanked God that I'd worn a push-up bra and the fitted Kelly green top that always seemed to get attention against my fair skin. I smoothed down my skirt and hair self-consciously, hopeful my make-up had sustained throughout the day.

"Well, uh..."

He shifted awkwardly, after we both noticed his gaze rested on my lips a little longer than necessary. His hot fingertips also sat at the back of my elbow a little too long for mere polite chivalry. Not that I was complaining.

He glanced around, then absently licked his bottom lip before his eyes darted to my own parted lips. I paused, feeling my body ache for him.

It was insane. I'd never seen him a day in my life and there we were, eye-fucking each other in the hall of my building.

"Well, glad I could help you fulfill your daily run-in quota," he joked, smiling.

Who was this man?

"...I uh. I live in 4A," he extended his massive palm, "Jacob." My lips moved, making an honest attempt to speak. There was a moment of delay, and then my brain finally caught up with my mouth.

"Bella, Bella Swan." Did he really need my entire name? "I, uh, I live in 4C. I've never seen you in the building before. Did you just move in?"

No, I've certainly never seen him before. I definitely would have noticed this much hotness living right down the hall from me.

"Yeah, same here; I've never seen you around here, either." He paused, slowly sliding his fingers from my body and I caught his gaze lingering on the curve of my hip. "And no...Uh, I haven't been here much, lately. I'm a freelance journalist. I've been covering the crisis in Haiti for the past two weeks. I was in Indonesia before that."

Oh my god. …Beauty and brains? He's like my walking wet dream.

"Sounds interesting."

Sounds interesting? FYI, Bella: saying that makes it sound infinitely less interesting.

"Yeah, uh, it is, but it's tough sometimes – traveling to some places. Still, I love it." He shifted throwing his shoulder-length hair, casually, over his shoulder. That was when I finally dragged my eyes away from his perfect, chiseled face, and took a good look at him, from head to toe.

Jacob was huge, but not bulky. He was leaner, with perfectly-crafted muscle. He had to be at least 6-4.

I wonder if he's ever played football, or hockey, or like rugby or something…

…I was mentally rambling. I felt myself swooning and hoped, to whatever god would listen to me, that I wasn't my usual bright red at the thought of traveling next to this man I'd never laid eyes on before five minutes ago and yet would like to take to some exotic place with tiki huts, private beaches, and bright orange drinks with little umbrellas sticking out of them. More rambling...

His gaze softened as we caught eyes, again. The sexiest smile that had ever been directed at me played at the corners of his lips. He whispered, hoarsely, "4C huh? Well then, Bella Swan, I guess that makes us neighbors."

"Well. I uh. I guess it does."

"Listen, I gotta run - meeting - but, it was nice...running into you. Maybe we can...do it again sometime."

That smile peered out, again. The beautiful man was funny, witty. And his teeth were perfect.

He took a few steps back, never peeling his eyes away from mine. He moved lithely, almost animalistic, and I was sure I would combust if I didn't have his hands on me again, soon. Then he finally turned to depart, and I waved weakly at his blue t-shirted back – and what a beautiful back it was – as he exited our building.

Just like that, my world changed.

I didn't see him again for almost two weeks - believe me, I'd been counting the days. I'd walk slowly down the hallway, taking entirely too long to reach my door and pausing to stare at his, willing it to swing open.

It didn't.

It had taken every ounce of willpower in me not to knock on the door.

I'd planned on doing just that if I went even one more day without seeing him. Saturday morning, I set out orange juice and a bagel on the small table on my spacious balcony – perfect for mornings like these –with paper in-hand, my mind was finally off Jacob. Maybe he'd gone away on location again. Maybe our attraction was all a dream. All I knew was that I had to stop thinking about him and to focus on something else.

This couldn't be healthy.

My balcony faced the street, so it provided the option for people-watching. From a distance, I heard the rhythmic shuffle of sneaker against pavement. My body responded instantly.

No. It can't be.

I glanced up and saw just the outline of his body and his deep sienna skin shining with sweat. I was mesmerized...again. Just as I became even more swept up in my revelry, I felt a thick, fat raindrop plunk the top of my head. Then another on my cheek and the middle finger of my right hand. Rapidly, the sky opened. On a sunny day, without a cloud in the sky, rain pelted me from where I sat.

Stupid Florida sun showers...

Then it dawned on me. If I was getting rained on, so was a very shirtless Jacob. I looked in his direction once more and watched the water slide over every groove, every indentation of his muscular body. It was the most sensual, non-sexual thing I think I'd ever witnessed.

It was beautiful.

He was beautiful; his slick, and hot, and wet body. He made no effort to run any faster, to escape the rain. Instead, he kept his pace and I was awarded the view of his body as it became larger and larger with each step he took closer to our building. While the rain continued to fall, his body became shiny, dripping, and more delicious.

I made no move to get out of the rain, either. My now inedible bagel soaked up the water from the sky and my orange juice turned light yellow and cloudy from mixing with the rain. Even more, I was drenched; the thin white cotton tank I wore was soaked through, as were the matching pajama bottoms.

I stayed where I was, though. I kept standing, trying to get a better look at him as he entered the building, and felt a pang of sadness when I realized that he would be dry soon, and out of sight. Then my brain snapped.

I had to catch him.

I had to stop him.

And do what?

I wasn't sure of at the moment. I just couldn't let him go. As fast as my feet could carry me, I rushed to my front door, gripping the knob and swinging it open.

"Oh!" I almost stumbled backward in my surprise. I looked up, clutching my chest.

...and was met with my wall of man.

Standing there, dripping on the hardwood hallway floor.

Soaked to the bone with rain water.

Eyes black and intense.

His gaze lowered to my breasts. I knew he could see through the sheer wet cotton - now suctioned to my body, to my nipples - as clear as if I'd been shirtless, too. Then, he stepped closer, entering my apartment.

I didn't move, and felt his hot, hard, slippery body pressed against mine. His chest just barely kissed my nipples through the thin barrier. He stared at me for a long moment, unblinking, and hungry.

I heard the lowest sound escape his chest. Something crossed in his eyes.

Decision?

Pounce?

He leaned forward, and I prepared my mouth for his kiss; for his full lips to press hotly against mine. Instead, his mouth passed mine and lowered.

His pink tongue darted out, and pressed against my collarbone, effectively catching a droplet of water that was sliding south toward my cleavage. And my clit lurched toward his body, urgent and needy. A shiver snaked its way up my spine and he kicked the door close behind him.

"Jacob..." I whimpered as his hands where on my skin, all at once. His lips met mine and I was caught up in the slick feel of his warm mouth against mine. He searched my body, starting at the dip in my waist, squeezing and kneading me, and sparking flames over my skin. I stepped closer to him, pressing my body harder into his, needing to feel him on my nipples. Subsequently, his hardness pushed against my stomach.

His body was...indescribable. It felt even better than it looked under my fingertips: the deep curves rolling over his chest and abdomen, so sinfully pronounced and perfect.

My fingers were greedy and my body, aching. I arched and clawed at his back, pulling off the tie that held his beautiful hair. I ran my fingers through it reverently, even in our frenzy, just as I had wanted to the day we'd met.

I just needed to feel him.

He was silent, biting and sucking my neck and shoulder. His fingers slipped underneath my top, pulling it away from my body frantically, so hard I thought he might rip it. He lifted it over my head and threw it with a slap onto the floor. Immediately, his mouth was on my nipples, rough and hard, and greedy. Finally, his fingers pulled at the string holding my pajama bottoms on my hips.

I wanted this. I needed this so bad. I wanted him so bad.

"Please..." I panted as I slipped my thumbs in the waistband and we both slid my panties and pants off, in one quick motion, with his help.

I stood there, naked, and I felt him.

I felt him pressed stiffly against my bare body, through the thin nylon fabric of his running shorts. He spun me and pushed my body against the back of my front door. Then I snatched the shorts away from his body, pulling them down and gripping him like he was mine. I could have done this a million times before. It was like second nature to me.

His cock was hot, heavy, and massive in my palm. It was a thing of beauty; just a shade darker than the rest of him, begging to be touched and then slid inside me. I released him, and fisted my hands in his hair. Pulling him toward me, I crushed my mouth against his.

Sliding his fingers down my thigh and under my knee, he held himself between my parted legs, and dragged his fingers along the slick, wetness outside my folds. My whole body shuddered at his touch, as he rubbed guided circles over my sensitive clit, and then slipped two fingers into me. I whimpered and then moaned, leaning my already arched body against the door and allowing him to do as he would with me. Because I was already wetter than I'd ever been, his fingers glided effortlessly in and out of me, until I was begging and panting.

He slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a low satisfied moan. After, he quickly guided himself into me. It was all too much.

A guttural cry escaped my lips and we paused. I was completely overwhelmed at the fullness I felt, and the tightness I was sure he was now sucked into. The heat, and fire, and tightness were almost more than I thought I could handle. After several moments, he kissed away my distress and pumped until he was completely inside me and I was gushing over his length.

An unabashed moan escaped me.

"Please...please don't stop..." I begged through my pants.

He stroked his body into mine and I reached to grip his shoulders, slowly meeting his thrusts. It was all I could do not run my nails down his back until I drew blood.

I wanted this. I needed this – him – so much.

In one swift movement, he grabbed my other thigh, and I was off the ground with my legs crossed behind his back. He held me there for a moment, with his eyes closed, biting his lip, and I knew he was pulling himself back from the edge.

This position was so much deeper. I could feel him in every part of me, and it was intense .

"Ah...fuck..." I moaned into his mouth.

He held my waist, pulling me up and down, slowly, and carefully rocking his hips against my body. Soon, we were in perfect sync. I was eager and ground my hips against his as he held me tightly, and his moan was the first noise he'd made since entering my home.

"Ahh...Bella, God..." he whispered.

"God...I know..." I grunted.

I did know. I knew this was something all consuming and terrifying. This, with him, was too good and something that couldn't be right. It was something that felt so insane; we both were teetering on the edge of madness.

Everything inside my body shivered and shuddered against him, contracting again and again. Wetness dripped and leaked from my body onto the floor. I screamed, not caring that we were inches from the hallway and the door to my balcony was still open, rain pattering the floor.

"Oh god....oh god..." He gripped my hips tighter, thrusting himself into me harder. My body, not even completely stilled from my first orgasm, began rolling in waves as I felt the stirring of my second.

"Bella..." He panted, grinding harder. "I...fuck. I gotta cum..." He thrust into me with abandon, never taking his eyes from mine.

Still intense. Still focused.

"...Let me down," I whispered. He looked at me incredulously. "Let me down...." I whispered again, tapping him lightly on his shoulder.

He obeyed me, yet never stopping his thrusts, which made it terribly difficult for my body to ever want to leave his. I did though, sliding him out of me, and he had the most painfully sexy look on his face. It was one of madness and need. He needed release.

I gripped his cock, and knelt before him. His look became more pained, but in a different way. It morphed into a level of desire I'd never seen in someone's eyes and was sure it mirrored my own.

I wrapped my mouth around him, sucking his tip, and then slid it as far as I could into my mouth. His body tensed, and his face grimaced as he held onto the door for support. He slowly propelled his hips, easing himself in and out of my mouth. I wanted to taste him – I wanted him to cum – so I pumped him with my hands, which were barely large enough to get completely around the width of him, allowing them to follow my mouth on his body.

"Fuck..." he mumbled.

His brows knitted together, his lips parted, and with one final jerk, he exploded in my mouth: hot, thick, and him. I licked my lips, savoring the taste of him, as he stood above me with his palms still resting on the door. Finally, he opened his eyes.

There was fire in them.

His cock, still as stiff as if we'd just started, twitched in my hands, inches from my lips. He raised an eyebrow and pulled me to my feet. My heart soared as he cupped his palm against the heat between my thighs.

"I'm not done with this yet," He whispered seriously, glancing around for my bedroom.

A/N – I've never shipped just Jake and Bella, and I have to say, I absolutely love them in this. It was SO fun and *ahem* rewarding to write. These two got a little carried away, which I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed. FYI, there are EPIC lemons and a little teeny bit of angst later, but I'm sure you guessed that already.

The Neighbor - Chapter 9 Teaser

2010-12-13T11:46:00.000-08:00

A/N - You can expect an update for this chapter no later than Thursday of this week. Love you guys, and I hope you enjoy :)

My thighs rubbed together with each of my strides, tiny thong against my body, making me acutely aware of its presence, and my need for him. My whole body had been on edge since this morning when he’d left me working on my computer, dress shirt fitted perfectly to his body, and slacks that made me want to do all sorts of things that I was sure were illegal in most states.

“Jake.”

“Yeah Bells?” He said absently, just trying to get us where we were going. I tried to steer him toward one of the many quiet little alleys between the buildings, just for a few moments, then we could be on our way.

“What...what are you doing Bells?”

My heels clicked as I tugged him into a deep hallway, no one was around, no one would know. He glanced around and upward, making sure that we weren't about to make a peep-show for some French college kids, or something of the like. I mean, it wasn’t like we were in the red-light district; something like two people having dirty public sex wasn’t bound to go over very well, even in Europe. Despite this, the fact that Jake was following me, however hesitantly made me even less concerned than I already was, per-usual, the wine had made my inhibitions missing in action.

I backed him against an ancient-looking wooden door, his hands all over my body with familiarity and lust. My lips were on his throat, softly at first, but affirming what I was thinking. I grabbed his wrists placing his hands on my ass, pulling away from him for only a moment, and of course, he stood there, gaping at me like I was insane. His body belied his expression though. He was more than ready for me, his hands roaming and squeezing, his cock steel against denim.

“You’re crazy...”

His hands pushed my second-skin skirt up my thighs, just for him to do what he needed to do without giving the world a show - not that there was a soul there to pass judgment.

Heart hammering against my ribcage, I felt his fingers roughly push my panties aside, and sink upwards and into me.

“I’m gonna make you cum here, then I’m gonna fuck you when we get back...you’re so wet babe...did I do this to you?” His warm mouth ecstasy against my ear, his body like heaven pressed against my hot skin.

The City

2010-12-13T11:31:00.000-08:00

Summary ::Slash:: Emmett & Paul spot each other on a NYC train, but the moment passes...or does it? A slash romance with a bunch of usual suspects from Twilight, plus tattoos, steel & a black eye to round things out. Rated M for Major Lemons & Language - AH/AU

A/N – Thank you to the girls of Friday Free For All for giving this kid with a dream a chance, and to Connect2tjb and Chele681 for helping me come up with this pairing - Paul and Emmett kinda took it from there. Thank you to my awesome team of slash pre-readers, you know who you are, and of course, my ficwife and betafish, Kay Cannon, for helping me fix all my mistakes.

DISCLAIMER: Twilight characters and related likeness are owned by Stephenie Meyer, Little Brown Publishing. No profits have been received in the production of this piece.

The City

I had to have been about six the first time I actually remember riding the train with my grandpa.

…His senior bowling league in Flushing.

I always looked forward to those weekly rides I got to spend with him. I mean, he was just about the best guy I knew. Not to mention, I got the chance to escape the insanity that was my four older brothers, if even for a few hours. That, and the candy.

He always gave me these butterscotch candies wrapped in foil, as soon as we sat down on the hard plastic seats. A bribe, I guess, to behave myself. I swear though, from the time I was a kid, the sound of the train always mellowed me out.

The speed of wind hitting metal at 60 miles an hour, the searing grind of steel against steel, the bounces and jerks and hum – the noise, the chaos, and beauty of it; I liked to take my headset off for a couple of seconds, just to hear it all. I'd pause my music and just listen.

The train was dirty as all hell, and even more crowded than that this time of day, but it was better than driving and I always tried to get a seat next to a window. It let me overlook the Hudson and watch the tiny boats with puffs of smoke as they docked in Manhattan. I was home – even in this pissy-ass train.

I didn't want to think about the ride next to the older lady eyeballing me, though, because then I'd just have to laugh. For more than one reason, I was so not interested.

I eventually let Bose shut me out from the noise. Let Nirvana take over the soundtrack to my ride home. I definitely needed to reach that six-year-old me, and mellow out after the day I'd had.

A project for one of my agency's biggest clients had me reeling. I never had this much trouble being inspired, but I was starting to doubt my work after my last round of edits. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fucking amazing designer, but, shit, even I had to start questioning my ability.

Said it wasn't 'out there' enough.

Said, I was 'playing it safe.'

Safe.

That was the last fucking thing Emmett McCarty ever was. So, why the problem?

I needed to relax, take my mind off all the shit. Hit reset and start the game over; maybe then I'd find my inspiration.

Shoved my hands in my pocket for my Evo to check my email; one from Jake, two from my office, and one from my sister in law. I scrolled down the screen, too focused to notice that Older Lady had moved from beside me, and Little Pubescent Teen had replaced her. I glanced around – because, really, you can never be too safe or aware of your surroundings in this city – with my eyes darting in the direction of one side of double doors and back to my cell, then back up.

…Just a healing, thin layer of purplish-brown swollen flesh.

I saw that bruise under his right eye and figured it must have been a fucking shiner when it was raw and new. His hair was nearly buzzed clean off, with just enough thick peach fuzz to lie down against his scalp. He shifted his weight to lean along the wall of the train car, glancing around easily.

My eyes flickered away again, because, after several long moments of taking him all in, I realized I was staring. That wasn't the type of thing you did, not if you wanted to keep your teeth. Trying to make sure that no one noticed me gawking at his striking beauty, I looked around in that self-conscious way that people do.

And beautiful he was.

I felt like I could get away with a couple more long gazes at him unnoticed, and I was greedy. I thoroughly scanned every piece of him that I could, and really tried to get a good look at him. His perfect reddish-brown skin that glowed in the harsh, dim florescent lighting. His square jaw, thick bowed lips, cheekbones, and eyes so soulful it seemed like he'd seen enough lifetimes to last him... a lifetime.

He was more than beautiful.

His body was built from God himself; I could see that even under the leather motorcycle jacket, simple white tee and jeans he wore. His broad chest swelled and then narrowed at his waist. I swallowed, trying to find some moisture, because my mouth had gone bone dry.

His thighs...were...awe-inspiring.

Sinew and packed muscle.

From where I sat, I could see that he was tall, and he seemed fixated on whatever it was that had captured his interest out the window. He was brooding, and focused, and deep in thought.

I...I...needed to know who this guy was.

Just as I began to wonder about the key that hung from a long simple leather string around his neck, he peered up and around, almost like he could feel my eyes. The train jerked forward, and our eyes met as he tried to keep his footing. He was more than five feet away, several bodies separating us, but I swear there was no one else around. Those intense, focused eyes were on me, and he seemed intrigued with what he saw, for whatever reason.

Whoever he was, I knew I was fucked. He couldn't be gay, and I made it a rule not to dip in the straight pool. Too unpredictable, and too much drama that I definitely didn't want or need at this point. I mean, he had to like chicks…this guy oozed straight from every pore.

But, shit, then again, so did I.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, above that same bruised eye, and smirked.

He fucking smirked, and I had to try to adjust my dick in my jeans to keep the hard-on that was screaming its appreciation under wraps. I glanced down, trying to put my eyes on something other than the guy that was currently on the verge of making my face turn redder than a 12 year old girl. I moved the strap on my messenger bag across the center of my chest, cracked my knuckles and rolled my head around, just to have something to do, really. By the time I was done with my display, I hoped that Sexy had gone back to looking out of the window, and I could commence my ogling.

He hadn't.

He was still looking.

He was still staring, still drilling a hole through my scull with his eyes, and I had nowhere to run. He was hot, yes, but something so much more was stirring in my stomach. That thing that I hadn't felt in so long, which felt amazing and scary as hell all at the same time.

I didn't even know him.

I didn't even know if he'd be interested. Maybe he was intrigued and nothing more; who knew? Who was he to make me feel these things? I'd never felt his touch on my skin, or heard my name on his lips, and here we were. Here I was, feeling things.

The train bounced again, as we continued our song and dance that I was fully trapped within, and the people around us shifted and shuffled, and prepared for their departures. Sexy looked around, obviously realizing he was nearing his stop. He glanced at me again, and the expression he wore changed from amusement to mild hesitation and discomfort. It was almost indistinguishable, but it was there.

Shit.

What if I never see him again?

I blinked, briefly toying with the idea of following him off the train, which had stopped, and the doors were open. As passengers quickly got on and another off, he looked at me once more with his eyebrows creased at the center, and tugged at that leather jacket. Then, he hopped off of the train and into the darkness of the subway platform.

The following week, I still couldn't get the guy with the eyes out of my mind. And, I'm ashamed to say, I'd ridden the train every chance I got, looking for him with no luck. Two nights from then, I had possibly the worst night's sleep ever recorded in history. I must've dreamt about him because, somewhere in that dreamy state, just before I'd woken up completely, he was there with me. Looking at me and smiling at me with perfect teeth.

I could smell the leather on that jacket and taste the brine on his skin. He smelled even better than he looked, and felt even better than that. He was there with me, and my dick was rock hard. I pulled my sweats down, clumsily searched in the blue night for lotion, and gripped myself, then stroked…

My thoughts went to us, together, to those lips wrapped around me, to him bent over for me, mouth forming a pronounced 'Oh,' and moaning in toe-curling pleasure…

After rubbing a much-needed one out, I ended up just staring at my MacBook for an hour, unable to come up with anything substantial, before sitting next to my open living room window and listening to the city; listening to Williamsburg – to the sirens and the sound of some kind of brawl a few blocks away. That pretty much kept me busy until it was late enough on a Saturday morning to call Jake. He invited me out to hear him play, which was more or less standard for us on the weekend.

Later, I sat through a set or two of the band he had started when we were still in undergrad. I swear, if the kid wasn't like my brother, even I'd have the hots for him. God knows pretty much anyone who knew Jacob did. He was one of those kinds of hot that was in your face, and perfect, and just demanded attention.

After the last notes of his song were done, he exited the stage and made his way toward where I sat on a stool by the bar. The club he played at on the weekend had become one of our favorites to frequent. Always hot guys there, plenty of steel, and art, and body mod, and good music of course. It just so happened that he had been fucking the owner at the time. Neither one of us ever thought it'd turn into anything serious. That was just about three years ago.

"What cat peed in your cornflakes?"

Nice.

I looked up from the brown liquor in the lowball glass I cradled in my hands, poking my tongue at the steel piercing my lip and rolling my eyes. "What?"

A smile broke across his handsome face. "What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? You've been looking like someone stole your bike all night. You're fucking with my vibes, man."

Jake was lead singer and bassist, and always talking about some hippie-type shit. I ran my eyes up the full sleeve covering his arm, and shrugged.

"Work's got me stressed as fuck. My brain is all over the place." I'd intentionally left out the part about Sexy, because I knew Jake would have called me chickenshit for letting him leave without ever talking to him.

"Don't let those fuckers hurt your brain too much, Em. You're fucking talented; don't forget that. Plus, I personally think you just need to get laid, dude. You're wound tighter than skin on a drum. You just need to bust one…or ten. Just sayin'."

I laughed at that sentiment. It had been way too long, and Jake was always the person to make sure I remembered that. Before Jake had gotten with Edward, he was definitely the friendlier of the two of us. He had been slowly making his way through two boroughs of men, and was working on a third.

Yeah, for me, there were guys, but it never seemed to go anywhere. I wasn't really the 'sleep around' type. I met them all the time, especially in the creative field I was in. If it wasn't other designers, it was advertising account managers or PR reps. They all seemed to like me – suckers for the baby blues and a nice set of abs – but I was never really into it. I was just too focused to start anything serious and, despite my alternative outward appearance and demeanor, I was way too tight to get that loose.

Who said all gay men were sluts?

He looked at me, trying to assess the extent of my current situation. I ran my fingers through my curly black hair and, after I smiled weakly at him, he seemed appeased, for then at least.

He nodded. "Okay, well, get another drink. Tell Ed it's on my tab. We can talk after I'm done, okay?"

I mimicked his nod and finished what was in my glass, only to have Jake's boyfriend behind the bar fill it again. The warming effects of the whiskey were doing just what I needed them to do, and I was feeling great. I was finally relaxed and everything was just a little fuzzy around the edges, as Jake and Edward told me some story about something.

I laughed at all the right times and talked to their friend Jared, who was just about the fucking sexiest thing I think I'd ever laid eyes on. His slow smile and friendly eyes made talking to him that much easier, and I knew that I was in for trouble. Jake winked at me, and then I realized that this was supposed to be some kind of fix-up situation.

Gee thanks, Jake.

I mean, Jared was hot. That was undeniable, but I was pretty sure I wasn't ready for a one night stand. In some crazy way, I felt like I was cheating on Sexy.

I know, I know; that's crazy...right?

Jared grinned at me and put his hand on my leg. At first, I wanted to swat it away, but he was just so fucking hot...and funny. Maybe I could do the whole 'meaningless sex' thing. Jared looked like he'd be a willing and able participant in my sexual experiment. My dick twitched again in agreement and I felt like everyone was against me, my own body included. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?

"Hey!"

Slap on my back, firm grip on my shoulder.

I jumped at the action, because, actually, it startled the fuck out of me.

"I was looking all over for you." I glanced around, and I literally almost pissed myself. Jake's eyes went wide, and Edward smiled and grinned at our new visitor.

It was fucking Sexy. It was Sexy, Soul Eyes, Perfect Body, in the motherfucking flesh.

What was he doing here? In all the goddamn years we'd been coming here, I'd never seen him here. Not ever.

And now he's here, looking like hot sex covered in honey, and I'm fucking sputtering. I didn't know if it was the drinks making their way through my system or the surprise of seeing the very man I couldn't get my mind off of for the last week, but I couldn't find the brain function to hear or speak.

Another slap on the back.

Jared was not amused, and I was briefly wondering if there would be some kind of battle to the death situation. Then, I'm ashamed to say, I got harder thinking about the two of them naked and wrestling for my affection.

Sexy thrusted his palm toward Jared. "Paul. Paul Atera."

Edward grinned even larger, turning to Jake, who was just sitting there like a fucking cat who swallowed a canary, even more intrigued by the display than Edward was. As his green eyes shined with mischief, I guessed I wouldn't be asking those jerkoffs for any help in this situation.

"Paul huh? Emmett hasn't mentioned you, before," Jake said, as Jared gripped Paul's hand, giving him the stare of death. Paul greeted Jake and Edward with the same amount of humor and I hated him and wanted to run away and I didn't even know him.

I felt like fucking Helen Keller, because not a word had come out of my mouth since Paul had joined us.

"Emmett..." He smirked again saying each syllable in my name for the first time, rolling them around in his mouth, and sliding his large hand into his pocket. I was too mesmerized by the way his bicep flexed with the small gesture, way too mesmerized. "...now, I'm just hurt."

I rolled my eyes, but at least I knew Sexy's name now. "Paul...This is Jared, Edward, Jake. Jake's in the band. Edward owns the place."

"Right, right. Jake, great band man. You guys have an awesome sound."

"Thanks, dude." Jacob smiled at me and I knew I was never gonna hear the end of it. Paul jerked his head in the opposite direction, wanting me to follow him.

"Can I steal this one away from you for a second?"

"Oh...please, do," Edward permitted, and I was on my feet in the next moment, following him pretty much anywhere he wanted me to. He cornered me against a far wall, just the two of us. I could finally see that we're about the same six-foot two, height. If it was possible, he looked even better than he did the last time I saw him, in a snug black v-neck t-shirt and jeans.

I noticed the intricate ink that he had on his right upper arm, wrist and, from what I could see, peeking from under that shirt and running across his collar bone. All well done and made me want to see what else that cotton and denim were covering, and where else on his body could I find it. He stared at my mouth as I bit at my spiderbite, and I waited nervously for him to fucking talk.

"You're here."

"That I am," he replied, looking at me fiercely, like he was trying to see through me. Like, if it were possible, we'd be naked and doing far less talking than we already were.

"You left. You left the train." I swear, in my everyday life, I was far more eloquent than that, and possessed more than a two-syllable word vocabulary.

"I had to go..."

"Why? Why? You eye fuck me, then you leave without a backward glance? I...I thought I'd pretty much never see you again," I admitted.

He bowed his head and nodded, tracing his fingers along the side of my neck, and I was fucking mush. "Had to be at the gym. I gotta be sure I make weight."

"Make weight?"

He pointed to the bruise under his eye. "I'm a fighter."

Ah.

His beautiful face had been marred by his own choosing. He'd gotten hit in the face by some other guy wanting to beat the hell out of him.

"You box," I said simply, and he nodded. Then, he stepped closer to me, anchoring his palm against the wall and forcing me further against the cool metal.

"Mmm...You smell good." He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. I just wanted him to put his hands on me. I needed him to touch me.

I swallowed and shifted my weight, nervously. It was crazy. I never felt like this with guys, but he was so sure of himself, and so confident, and I was so fucking out of practice. He looked amazing and smelled like dreams, and desires, and rainbows and all that shit.

He licked his bottom lip. "Sorry."

"About?" I glanced over his shoulder and, just as I'd expected, Jake, Edward, and a scowling Jared were staring at the show that Paul and I were performing for them.

"Sorry for leaving. Sorry for embarrassing you in front of your friends. Sorry I didn't do what I wanted to do when I first laid eyes on you." I couldn't find my voice as he stepped close enough that I could feel his chest touch mine, and his eyes flicker to my lips.

"What's that?" I croaked. Before I could catch my next breath, his lips and tongue were against mine, and I felt like I really, really needed to cum as the thick bulge in his jeans pressed against my hip.

Oh my god.

He tasted amazing, and his mouth was soft, and slick and warm, and I wanted to be there forever, and never stop thinking about his thick lips and how insane that mouth would feel wrapped around my dick.

I'm a terrible person.

I broke my mouth away from his. "McCarty."

Paul was breathless, just a half-inch away from my lips. He cocked an inquiring eyebrow, then smiled.

"My last name is McCarty. Emmett McCarty," I breathed. "Now I don't feel like such a slut thinking about you naked."

He laughed and it became one of my favorite sounds, just like his neck had become one of my favorite smells.

"Hi, Emmett McCarty," he whispered, rolling his hips until we were aligned just right and he could feel me just as hard as I could feel him. "Emmett McCarty, are you single?"

I nodded and wondered if he was really as big as he felt, and if he was, he was going to make this not being a slut thing really, really hard.

"Paul Atera, are you single?" He nodded and lightly traced his fingers over my left nipple.

Oh god, give me strength. I felt like I needed to say the Rosary or something for the x-rated thoughts blinking in my mind.

"Perfect. You want to get out of here?"

He wanted to leave with me.

He wanted to ride the train back to his house and hopefully ride me all night.

He wanted to fuck me just as much as I wanted to fuck him.

I chuckled. "I don't even know you. You know people are crazy in this city."

He smiled back at me and I heard Jake's band start playing again. "Well, I box, I live in Harlem, I'm single, I've been tested and I'm clean and clear." He rubbed his lips against mine, and darted his tongue out for just a taste, then continued. "I'm 28, originally from Washington – state, not DC – and I live alone. Is that enough, or do you need to see two forms of identification?"

I laughed and ran my palms up either side of his waist. He was all thick muscle, and I was really starting to consider going home with this guy, but thought better of it. "No...I can't..."

"You can't?" He looked amused, and I hated his sexy ass all over again. "Why is that? Do I look crazy to you?"

"No, but those are the ones you have to look out for the most," I mused, sliding my index finger across his bottom lip. He chuckled, nipping at my finger.

"I see. Well, what can I do to make you chill out some? Huh?"

"I don't know. You got any references?"

He laughed and I my body eased. I loved the way he made me feel; like he was home and, weird enough, like I'd known him for years. Everything about him was a complete aphrodisiac, and all I wanted to do was run my tongue across that bruised skin under his eye.

Paul makes me a little bit insane, apparently.

"Okay, Emmett McCarty. Can I at least take you to dinner?"

Now, that's a thought. Dinner would be nice.

"...I'd hate for this to be the last time I ever see you," he finished.

Oh, god no. Never, ever that.

I wanted to see him every moment for as long as I could think of, and maybe even longer than that.

"Alright, that sounds okay."

"Tomorrow."

"Wha..."

"Tomorrow. I'll come pick you up," he finally said, pressing his lips to mine before I could protest any further. "Now, I have some friends that I have been extremely rude to because you've completely monopolized my time."

"But you came over to me."

He shushed me and kissed me, again. "Here, let me introduce you. That's Sam. And that's Jasper..."

===

Paul Atera was not at all what I'd expected.

That fact was a very, very good thing.

Admittedly, whether it was the black eye adding to his 'rough around the edges' appearance or not, I wasn't sure what to make of him. Not initially, at least.

But, Paul pleasantly surprised me.

I felt his knee rub playfully against mine, as he answered me with a grin from across the table.

"But, what is the military, if not an arm of the federal government?" he offered, cutting into the medium rare steak he'd ordered. He explained to me that he was on a strict proteins and veg diet, so carbs were completely out of the question, at least until after his fight. He agreed after I suggested a little Italian spot I knew could make a porterhouse that you'd kill your grandmother over.

I looked at him thoughtfully, a million questions running though my head; this man was full of surprises. I also learned there, over dinner, that Paul was beautiful from all directions, and in every lighting. His face was so smooth…

"Yes, but don't you think Don't Ask Don't Tell should be handled by the military courts, not civilian?"

He chewed and swallowed, taking a long sip of water, and sitting back in the booth opposite me. "Well, in instances like that, I think that something that affects all branches of the military should be managed by a federal entity – a higher court."

I nodded and sipped more of my lager. No, Paul wasn't at all what I'd expected him to be. "Fair enough," I conceded. "Where does a guy like you come from, anyway? I mean, I'll be honest, you don't seem like the type to talk about politics the way you do."

"Ah, I see. You thought I was some stick-up kid who barely finished high school."

"No! I didn't mean it like that," I sputtered, as he stared at me harshly for a long moment, before breaking into a smile.

"I'm kidding, Em... You gotta relax a little." He laughed. I was such a fucking spaz. Though, honestly, what he'd said wasn't so far from the truth.

"Well, I was pre-law at NYU...decided to fight after I had a degree and realized I hated it too much to go to law school." He took another massive bite of meat, followed by a forkful of salad.

"Hate... That's a strong word."

"Well, I love the law. I hated what I realized it meant to be an attorney after I finished school. I'm actually considering getting back into the law, you know? Doing policy, maybe. I don't know."

"A good friend of mine is down in DC, working in international policy. Jake and I both went to the Art Institute. I did graphic design, he did advertising." Paul nodded, listening intently with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I'd learned that this was a face that he made often when he was amused, and when he was interested.

Turned out he was Native, not Puerto Rican or Dominican like I'd originally thought, and like so many of the fighters around the city were. He looked even better that night, dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled. Even though it was a bit dim after dinner, we compared artwork. I pushed my thin sweater's sleeves enough to explain the Celtic tattoos I had along my arm, and how my brothers had similar Irish-Scotch art.

"I'm from here. Been here my whole life. Visited a lot of places, but I always come back. I mean, my family's here."

We traded coming out stories, as well, both going pretty roughly; him from his hyper-masculine choice of profession and traditional father, and me from being the youngest in my huge, mostly male Catholic family.

"So, Emmett McCarty, when can I see you again?"

Perfect, perfect. He's locking in the next date before the current one is over. Good work.

"Whenever you want to," I replied, coolly. At least I was remembering some of my game, pre-subway.

"I want you to come to my fight next week, of course. But, can I see you tomorrow?"

Yes! Yes!

"I have to work, but maybe tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good," he said, looking at me fiercely and finishing his steak.

"Tell me more about this fighting thing, though. How do you, like, stand there and get hit in the fucking face, dude?" I laughed.

"Well," he started with a chuckle, "if I'm doing my job right, I won't be getting hit square in the face, now, will I?"

====

I have to admit, beyond being hotter than should be legal and smart, Paul was charming. And, against my better judgment, after our date was ending and plates had been cleared from our table, we'd hopped into his Jeep, and I ended up inviting him upstairs to my apartment. We talked more, sitting at my dining room table, listening to vintage Carlos Santana. I felt his eyes on my back while I reached for glasses, until I felt his presence behind me as I opened the Jack.

I smiled, and he rested his palms on either side of the counter, trapping me. "Yes? Can I help you?"

That dazzling smile broke, and I was done. He wet his lips, glancing to mine hungrily, leaning closer until they were pressed softly against mine.

It was like magic.

He kissed me like he knew me, like he knew my body, and I was his. His lips were so soft and so warm. Actually, his whole body was warm, hot really, and I briefly worried that he may be getting a cold, or the flu or something. That thought was just a fleeting one, though, because he sucked me into what his lips were doing to mine. His tongue slid across mine, tentatively, asking me if it was okay, and I stepped closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him to me.

His kiss was insane. It was addictive. Everything about him was.

Instantly, I felt his hardness pressed against mine, felt him softly grinding against me, felt him nipping at my bottom lip, and I knew I needed to stop this before we got too carried away.

Shit, I felt like a girl.

I pulled away, just as I felt his hands reach my ass and pull me closer. He ducked his head forward, reaching for my mouth with his, and I placed a palm on his chest to stop him with a smile.

"Later..." I said. I mean, I had to make him want it – want me – and he'd always come back if I made him wait. He'd be jumping out of his skin until the next time he'd see me, and that, folks, was a very good thing.

He grinned at me in challenge, his eyebrows twitching as he licked his lips again, and he may as well have been licking along my dick. I seriously felt him there.

Oh boy.

====

I had never seen a live boxing match before. I mean, beyond the occasional pickup game of basketball with Jake, I wasn't what you'd call athletic. We were all much more likely to check out a band or an exhibit than any sort of sporting thing. So, when Paul told me to just let him know how many people I was bringing to his fight, that we'd get front row tickets, I was more than intrigued.

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to go with you to an event with half-naked men, with perfect bodies, beating each other to a sweaty pulp?"

Jake was such an ass.

"Well, yeah."

"And, you really have to ask me this...why?"

I guess he was on board.

Our friends Embry and Mike came with, and we took our seats amid other spectators, obviously, but also a litany of coaches, and what appeared to be other boxers as well.

Okay, so, what Paul failed to mention was that this event would be as huge as it was. I was pretty sure it was televised, and the arena where it was held was almost stadium-sized. I don't know what I was expecting, but Paul, The Wolf, Atera was a fucking local celebrity. Of course our asses would have never heard of him – Jake watches even fewer boxing matches than I do – but, from what I could see, with his face plastered all over Brooklyn, shirtless, and with his satin shorts and gloves, he was kind of a big deal.

Paul was cruiserweight, but I didn't have to wait long to see him because the welter and middleweight fights before his were knock outs and done in less than 30 minutes. He entered with a deep-bassed hip hop song, flanked on his sides and back by whom I assumed were his trainers and coach. His shirtless body was shiny and slick, and my heart literally stopped for just a second when I saw him in those blue shorts. He looked like sin covered in sex.

He was lean in all of the places he should be, and had thick muscle along his arms, legs and thighs. He was focused, as his coach animatedly yelled something in his ear, beat on his chest, and rubbed his shoulders. And honestly, with the way those eyes darkened as he stared at the other guy in gold shorts across the ring, I felt seriously bad for the guy. Paul looked like he was gonna murder him, and chew his bones to broken, powdery nubs.

An hour or two later, his fight was done and we were buzzing with energy. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets as we waited patiently in the cool night air for Paul to finish with the doctors and trainers on-site for his post-fight checkup. My body was still on fire after watching him beat the shit out of that guy. He was completely in control the entire time. His body danced and started a rhythm; he was controlled power in a beautiful package. I mean, Paul was a nice size – not too muscular, just big enough – but the way he threw those punches so mercilessly was a goddamn turn-on.

I saw him exit the large doors with a couple of other men, one of them a trainer I'd seen him with earlier who eventually fell away. He was bundled up and freshly showered, in jeans, a knit cap and boots.

"Hey! Congrats, man. That shit was awesome!" I really couldn't contain myself; especially after I saw that big ass shiny belt he'd won thrown over his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said softly, turning to greet each of the men standing there, and thanking them for coming out to support. After a few more moments of pleasantries, he continued, "You wanna get out of here? I drove."

His intense eyes were fixed hard on me, and, well, I guess I already knew the answer to that question. Although he'd just gone a few rounds, he looked no worse for wear, if not a little antsy.

"Yeah... Yeah, guys, I'll catch you later. Jake...lunch Sunday?"

"You got it. Hey, Paul, great fight man. Woo! You beat that guy's ass!" A round of laughter and approving comments followed, with Paul's appreciation and thanks. I will say this – I was proud of him.

We arrived at his truck, and I could literally feel the energy rolling off him. When we reached my side of the SUV, and before I could lift the handle to let myself in, Paul had me pinned.

"Are you going home tonight?" It wasn't really a question and, by the tone of his voice and the fierce look he had directed squarely at me, I could guess the answer he expected me to have.

"Paul...I have..."

"I want you to come home with me," he whispered, glancing around him, and harshly chewing the gum in his mouth. "Come home with me, Emmett." He was serious, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. I swear I felt the roughness in his voice go straight to my dick again.

God, he and my dick had been having conversations without me a lot, lately.

He pressed closer to me, looked around once more, and kissed my lips with an intensity that left me panting and grabbing at his hair, and grinding myself into him wantonly. He pulled away, eyes serious and dark as midnight, opening the door and making the decision for me.

"Get in."

I obeyed.

He forced the key into the ignition and we were in route in the next minute. I didn't know what to say; I didn't dare break the sizzling electricity in the cabin of his car by talking. Instead, I was quiet, watching the city lights as we sped toward Harlem. Paul was focused and on fire with energy. I could see it just as clear as I could see my own hand on his thigh in front of me. It wasn't a bad thing, just an intimidating thing. There was a little piece of me that was excited, as well. He was as sexy as I'd ever seen him, or even more so with the humming testosterone just at the surface of his flawless skin.

He pulled into a free space right in front of a sleepy row of mid-scale brownstones, cut the engine and hopped out of the car, almost simultaneously. He grabbed his bags and met me on my side with a look that bordered somewhere between mischievous and hungry. My heart was beating like a goddamn hummingbird and I felt like a fucking virgin on prom night. I had to laugh at myself, trying my best to calm the hell down.

Paul quickly lead me to the second floor of the building, with his hand on my lower back, flicking on a small lamp in his simply furnished but very modern and very cool-looking apartment. I didn't have time to look around much at all, though, because Paul's hands and lips and body were on me, attacking me with blind excitement and one-mindedness.

His lips found mine, his hands gripping my waist and jaw tenderly, but also with a force that left me breathless. Our mouths moved like it was something we should have always done, biting and sucking familiarly. I didn't know what else to do, and there wasn't much to say, so I followed him in the fury, gladly. He sucked and kissed down my neck, grinding his denim-covered dick into me.

He ripped my jacket off and threw it on the couch, never allowing our lips to part. My sweater and his hat were gone faster than I could register, as Paul stepped back for a few short moments to look at me – I mean, really look at me with those eyes, and there was passion and lust, unbridled.

"Damn..." he whispered, in a tone that I completely assumed was positive. As he ran his fingertips along the art I had etched across my chest, I felt like I would burn up, literally combust when he slid his open mouth and tongue along my right nipple, and then my left. He stayed there, sucking and licking each one, and humming once I'd started whimpering and moaning his name.

I wished to god that I wouldn't cum; I was just too excited. I needed to calm down, but he was making me way too hard. I was positive that if he touched any other point on my body that's what would happen. I could feel it stirring and burning, flaring through my veins. My dick was painfully stiff; my brain was completely warring with what my body wanted, and I knew that I was all too close.

"Paul..." He was unbuckling my belt...unbuttoning my jeans...sliding my boxer-briefs and jeans down, and dropping his beautiful body to its knees. "Shit..."

"Goddamn..." he whispered, inches from me.

I willed him to blow on me, or dart his tongue out to the tip just once, because I knew I would cum all over that beautiful face. Those thick lips – that gorgeous mouth wrapped around the head of my dick as he sank down on me, taking me and swallowing me until I felt the back of his throat. I tried to think about anything.

Baseball.

Fat people.

Kicking puppies.

Anything but the way that he looked on his knees in front of me: his sienna skin, his eyelashes flared out against his cheek with his eyes closed, his lips curled upward sliding toward and away from me. Not the way that he was bobbing his head back and forth. Not the slippery sound of my dick entering and exiting his mouth.

"Oh fuck..." I gripped the back of his head.

Goddammit... going too fast... going crazy.

I felt the tightening in my balls and I knew that this was a fucking runaway train, and I didn't even give a shit if it would stop, or slow down for that matter.

Idiot move number one when you're getting the best head of your life from the hottest guy in the universe: watching the saliva slide down his gorgeous fucking mouth as he has his lips wrapped around you. No, that isn't the best idea ever for trying to show him that you have some resemblance of dick control. No, not at all.

I moaned. Embarrassingly loud, I moaned.

"P– Paul...god...gonna–" I hissed as I felt his hand grip me, firmly, and his mouth ease away. His tight palm slid down to the base of my dick, and the other followed that one, making it feel like an infinity handjob. When he reversed...

Base of my dick to tip. Base of my dick to tip.

Then he released me and swallowed me entirely with his mouth, once again. I was fucking done.

My body unfolded into a series of contractions, releases, and spasms that I thought I would die from. The ground could have just as easily swallowed me up, because I'd never cum like that in my 27 years of existence on this planet. My toes curled inside my steel-toed boots and I came more, and it was so fucking satisfying. A string of profanities and his name left my lips, and I tried my best to find purchase in something – anything: the doorknob, Paul's short hair, his jacket; whatever would prevent me from losing all functionality of my limbs and falling to the floor.

He was silent, a rock against my writhing, and grinding, and moaning. He kneeled there with his hands on my dick, swallowing every drop of cum, and easing down on me one last time before sliding his mouth away. I was still twitching with my mind-altering orgasm when he stood and tenderly gripped me in his palm, stroking ever so lightly and licking the soft flesh of my earlobe.

I could only feel his leather jacket against my nipples and smell the mint from the gum he'd popped back into his mouth. He helped pull me back together, dragging my jeans back over my hips. I didn't provide much assistance, because, really, I could barely keep myself upright at that moment. Every part of me was on fire, every nerve ending raw and deliciously sensitive.

"You taste amazing. I want to fuck you tonight. Is that okay?" he asked, kissing and licking my neck. "Please..."

My dick twitched at his question, and I wordlessly nodded while he pulled me in the direction of his bedroom, which, much like the living room, was decorated with large, dark, masculine furniture. Late night darkness spilled into the space but, save for the sounds of our voices, it was peaceful...quiet.

"I just... I– I always get like this after a fight," he muttered, softly pushing me onto the bed and helping me out of my boots, jeans, and...underwear. "I– You just look so good. I'm sorry. You can run for it if you want to, and we don't have to talk about this again." He laughed, running his palm across his hair, and then pulling off his jacket.

"No!" I answered, a little more harshly than I'd meant to. There was no way this wasn't going to happen. No way on earth. He chuckled, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Sorry...sorry." He unzipped the hooded sweatshirt and yanked off the tank he wore, letting them tumble to the floor.

Oh Jesus.

Seeing him up close was just...

Oh god.

I'd seen him shirtless, boxing of course, but his skin was smooth and tight and soft in a way that I could only really appreciate up close, and under fingertips. Powerful muscle beneath smooth, copper satin. He had tattoos along his hip and forearm, and his shoulder.

And I could smell him. Freshness mixed with him.

I read the tattoo just under his collar bone, running nearly from shoulder to shoulder. I stood and stepped closer to him, getting my second wind, wanting to touch every part of him, and wanting him to touch me more. I ran my hands up his chest, caressing him before placing kisses across the delicate words, reaching to unbuckle his jeans, and slipping them off. I felt him swallow, thickly.

"It means... It means, 'Fear nothing but failure'. It's Kw`oliyot." I nodded in understanding and wrapped my hand around his thick, solid erection. His eyes fluttered closed, his teeth biting his bottom lip.

My lip. I wanted that lip and every part of him to be mine. I didn't know what any of this meant, but I knew that I wanted him for me only.

His skin was literally burning up as I pushed him onto the bed and took him into my mouth. He was big. I mean, Paul was huge, just like I thought, so I had to take my time with him, making sure I sucked and licked in all the right places. I ran my tongue along the underside, suctioning my mouth, and softly running my fingers over his balls, which caused his hips to jerk upward.

"Em...babe...wait..." He pulled at the back of my head, grabbed my hair, and tugged lightly. My slick swollen lips frowned in question.

"What baby? Let me make you feel good."

"Em...wait," he repeated, laughing. "You do that way too well. Shit."

I chucked, too, licking my lips and letting him pin me to the bed.

"Let me do this, okay?" he whispered, dragging his tongue across my nipple, then grasping my hips firmly.

"Okay."

Bent on hands and knees, he reached for a handful of condoms and a bottle of lube, allowing me another view of his muscular ass that I just had to palm for a few seconds. He turned back to me, spreading and bending my legs, placing my feet flat on the mattress. He poured a generous amount of lube on his hand and fingers, just after taking me into his mouth for a few more seconds.

That beautiful mouth.

My dick was hard again.

"I'll go slow..." he whispered, slipping one finger into me, carefully, easing his hand in and out...in and out. "Move your hips with me a little, baby..." he murmured, sliding his other palm up and down my dick, continuing his stroke with the other.

I moved my hips with the gyrations of his fingers, just as he had told me, and a white shock of pleasure ripped through my groin and up my spine. His eyebrows creased in concentration, lips parted, and body flexing with his practiced movements. I groaned with pleasure as he slid another finger inside, so easily, while pumping his fist up and down.

"Oh...god...Paul...shit..."

"Good, babe...good. Em, you're so sexy baby...so sexy. Does that feel good?"

I nodded, face grimacing as I tried to reach for his dick, but not able to conjure up enough energy or dexterity to do so with him making my body feel the way he was. I rolled my hips with him, as he massaged that spot that made my whole body tense and shiver.

"Please...Paul...shit...please, just..." I pleaded, reaching for him.

I just needed him inside me. I needed him so badly. My back arched in pleasure as I wrapped my hand around his, showing him what I needed, though he didn't actually need much instruction, as he slid along my dick. Somehow, he'd gotten a condom and the lube, and had squeezed enough to coat his rock hard dick, and replace his fingers with his hardness all in the same moment.

Oh god, oh god...

He moved his hips into me gingerly, trying to go slowly for my benefit, but I grabbed his waist and pulled him, urging him as deep as he could go.

"Oh, Emmett, babe...shit...so good..." It was a clipped, strangled whisper, as he pressed himself deeper, leaning forward until our chests touched and slid with sweat.

Paul moved against me, his back curving and his body thrusting with power, his face beautiful and strained. My begging grew louder and I locked my ankles at the dip of his lower back as he found the place deep inside me and laved my nipples with a flat tongue.

I could see the stripes of streetlight crossing his body in the darkness as he fucked me, and I realized just how beautiful he was. It was a simple thing, but it made me realize that this was much more than a one-time occurrence; this type of thing just didn't feel that good, or this right. I could fall in love with him; there was no question about that.

I loved how he said my name as he grinded himself into me. I couldn't take his murmurs, his deep voice, and his sweet breath on my neck. He rolled his hips, grabbing my ass in each hand, and pulling me against him rhythmically, moaning and cooing, urging me to keep going just the way I was. He angled his body against mine just-so and, before long, it was overwhelming; I felt my next orgasm building.

"Paul...babe..." I whimpered.

"Uh, huh, babe... Come on...cum for me. You feel so good. Cum for me again..." he panted, pressing firmly against my abdomen, never stopping his sure, steady stokes.

Wha...What is he doing? Oh god...

He pressed harder, the thick muscle of his biceps twitching and straining against his exertion as he went deeper, and pushed into me harder, enough to have me writhing, and bowing, and rolling my body. With my back arched until the top of my head nearly rested on the bed, I said his name.

I pleaded for him.

We, us together, changed into something altogether different. From this fiery, uncontrolled thing, to smoldering, molten passion.

He stroked into me no more than five times after that, with his hand pressed against my abdomen – when it shook my body. Every ounce of energy I had focused and concentrated, contracted around me, and I came. I gripped my dick, willing the spasms to end and continue at the same time, because it was too much to bear. I came all over my hand, and his chest, but he kept going, chanting my name, telling me how good I felt.

"Emmett...oh god..." He moaned loudly, his fingers threaded in my hair, gripping it at the root, making me fucking crazy. Making me feel like I wanted to come again, or…more. I wasn't even sure at that point, because my body was still possessed with contractions and release.

His body tensed above mine, stroking into me one last time before... "Em..."

He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, obscuring his face for just a few seconds, as he panted against my ear and continued small grinds and thrusts into me. Then, he laid his perfectly chiseled body against me. Our hearts were thrumming erratically. I could feel his beating against my breastbone.

After a few moments, he left me and I heard some rattling around, then the patter of water hitting tile. He returned and set a glass of water on the nightstand closest to us for me. He leaned over my body with fists on the mattress and kissed me gently.

"I'm getting in the shower. You want to join me?"

We stood in his amazing bathroom, and even more amazing shower, with his head resting back against my shoulder, letting the steaming water beat against our bodies. I said sweet things to him as I lathered soap on his smooth body. Said his name as I washed his short hair. Ran my lips along his neck as I reached for his already hard dick. I lathered it too, but stayed there, loving it, stroking it, until Paul was moaning and thrusting his hips into my palm.

I rinsed his body, then prepped him, placing his foot higher on one of the raised grooves in the tub, and slid wet fingers into him tentatively, until he was ready, panting and groaning. I bent him slightly, just enough to accommodate me, and I was deeply seated inside him in the next breath. Paul arched his back, ground himself against me with lips parted and eyes squeezed shut, he said my name again, as I stroked him with my fist, and eased in and out of him.

God he felt good.

"Don't stop…"

I never wanted to stop. He felt too good, so tight and ready for me; I could live here forever with him, like this.

It was early morning once we'd finally rested, my head on his chest, him coiling and uncoiling my hair around his fingers. We were silent for a long while, the streetlight still spilling into the room's darkness. I was so satiated and relaxed, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and watching his chest rise and fall.

"So."

"So," I parroted. He was the first to say anything. That had to mean something...right?

"Listen, Em... This didn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

I won't lie; my heart stopped beating for a second, just on the precipice of shattering into a million little pieces.

"Is... Is that what you want?" I shifted in his arms.

"No. I mean, not if that's not what you want. I mean...what I meant to say is that, well… I really suck at this..."

"No, no, I understand." I moved to get up. Maybe I could get a cab.

He held me in place. "No, you don't get it. What I mean is – is that I really like you. And, well, I was hoping that this wouldn't be the last time. Uh, I mean, not this – well, this too, but I mean, us… I want to see you again."

I smiled and nodded. Paul was stuttering. It was cute; he really did like me, a fact that made my heart skip, then start its normal rhythm again.

"I'd like that."

"You would?" That dazzling smile shined bright again, and I was home. I nodded in confirmation.

"Of course. I mean, I've already kinda broken you in. Don't want to have to find another hot, non-crazy guy in this city."

His whole body shook with laughter, and he ran his hand over his hair, then pulled me closer to him. I rested my head against his chest, once again, and we slid under his comforter. His fingers drew circles on my back and, before I'd ever realized, his rubbing slowed to a stop, and he was asleep. And I was just behind him.

===========================

This was my first pass at slash, so, I hope I didnt fuck it up too much.

Let me know what you think.

Oh, and in case you didn't know, Kw`oliyot is the way our Quileute friends say, well... Quileute.

Stealing Forever - Chapter 8 - Easing the Hurt

2010-12-13T11:16:00.000-08:00

Chapter 8 - Easing the Hurt

Generally speaking, Claire considered West Virginia a grim-looking state. She waited silently for the others to comment on their surroundings, not wanting to seem pretentious, though it was hard not to at the moment. The landscape and what she'd seen of the people left quite a bit to be desired. Of course, Embry looked around brightly, and she watched his eyes survey the road ahead as they entered the state. He craned his head to look at her and flickered his eyes toward his window with a quizzical look. Then, a mile-wide smile broke across his face; it was infectious, and she responded wordlessly, with a shrug and a small grin.

She guessed that, at some point, the northern half, where their journey had brought them, was fairly modern and industrialized. She'd heard over the years that the area had had a considerable amount of coal-mining money filtering through, which helped with the local economy. But that day, by the time the three had seen it, it resembled a more or less ghoulish-looking cowboy-era ghost town. It was nothing like Philadelphia or anywhere even remotely surrounding it. As they quietly drove through the state, she found herself excited when she caught sight of something modern; anything to offset the rusted mid-century pick-up trucks littering house after run-down house. This fact helped her forget and stay occupied, which was all she really wanted at that point.

She searched the barren rustic land to the left or right of them. She counted the number of vehicles made after the 1970s, and then the 1980s, amid farms or old mills or deserted mines. It kept her mind busy.

It all helped her forget, how much her heart and mind still ached.

Five days since the funeral and two weeks since... Things were still hard for her; very hard.

Times like this, though – watching the brilliant sun glow off the perfect, golden, reddish-brown skin of Jacob's bare forearm, or the way the cool breeze flipped and mussed Embry's unkempt hair, keeping her mind on what Jake was thinking or focusing on the curves and dips of Embry's left ear; the thought of nothing really, but the perfect weather and their surroundings made her almost, almost, forget.

In her perfect world, she'd never met Quil. So, there was no pain of loss, and she could just exist with these two selfless men, who were protective and watchful of her.

She wanted those memories of Quil to go away.

She wanted to forget that Christmas party and her soiled Chanel jacket. She wanted to forget the wedding dress hanging in a bag that she could never again allow herself to unzip. She wanted to forget the beautiful muscles of his back, or his intricate tattoos, or the way his eyes wrinkled at the edges when he was being mischievous.

She wished she could take her perfect, perfect memories of Quil and freeze them in time. She wished she could tie them with ribbon and place them in a wonderful, perfect box, lock that box and put it away forever. She wished she could forget, and just...be.

Her perfect world was interrupted that afternoon, by no fault of her own.

Suddenly, as she drove along the sleepy towns littering Route 50 with the two people she felt closest to in the world, all she could feel was guilt. She felt the guilt of quarreling with Quil for leaving his socks on the bathroom floor the morning before the accident. It was a trivial thing, and they'd made up shortly thereafter, but she still felt the stinging pain of regret.

He'd been talking about taking Jacob out that evening, all week. Quil had been excited to see his friend and was determined to make him feel better. He'd called her one last time, just as he pulled up to Jake's house, apologized for their fight that morning and told her he loved, her among a myriad of other non-important topics of conversation that couples in love and in comfort with each other engage in. If she'd known that would be the last time they'd speak, she'd have come up with so much more to say, something meaningful and poetic. She'd tell him that he was her air, and her sun, and her life. She'd tell him he was everything she never knew to ask for.

She never got the chance, and that was something she'd always desire; those small, insignificant and all-consuming moments with her Quil that she'd never, ever get back.

But, on days like this, on this clear, sunny July afternoon, she could forget. She bit back the stinging in her heart – it was always a stinging, a burning, or numbness – and let herself ease back into the comforting cadence that was Embry's conversation. He always helped her forget. He was so funny, and kind, and interesting. She could listen to him explain nearly anything to her for an infinite amount of time, because everything he said sounded so complex, and so beyond.

He'd held her when she'd snuck in his bed, so tenderly and chastely that she'd almost forgotten her pain. She wanted to go to him and tousle his hair, and let him smile his smile at her It was the smile that told everything would be okay, the smile that comforted her in those dark, frighteningly scary hours, and the smile that, though she'd never admit it to anyone, barely herself, reminded her of Quil's.

She was grateful to Embry for engaging her from his passenger seat beside Jake, who was driving, and bobbing, and dipping along the hilly landscape. He talked to her, which also helped her drown out her own thoughts. Yes, today was a pretty bad day, but she noted that it wasn't as bad as the day before, and not nearly as bad as two days before that. She really only listened to every third or so word that he said, but that was enough to keep her mind off of anything that could drag her back down and ruin the progress of that bright West Virginia afternoon.

They'd traveled about half of the 150-mile trip through the state, and it had gone by faster than she'd even noticed. Jake was deathly quiet from the driver's seat, as she expected from him. He was focusing so intently on the road that she was sure he hadn't heard a word she or Embry had said in the last hour. She wanted so badly to know what was going on in his head, but he hadn't given her a glimpse of what was bubbling inside of him since that morning in the hospital when he'd cried and poured his soul out to her, and Embry, and everyone else who knew her Quil.

He was still in pain, that much was clear, and she knew better than to compare her pain to anyone else's, but, God, he'd known Quil his whole life. He was a part of Jake as much as he was her. It hurt her more than she realized, initially, to look at him these days, because, while Embry was the light spirit he always was and she herself was slowly, very slowly, seeing changes in the grief, he was not changing. Not at all. She would even wager that things were getting worse, more difficult for him.

Her heart was so full of love for him; even in these few days, the love she'd gained had grown so much that Jake's anguish was tangible to her. His hurt was her own, and, combined with her very real emotions, it was something that was physically painful for her. So, sadly, she avoided him, and looked to Embry to share her burden. [4] The hum of his voice eased and salved her, lulled her...lulled her.

Embry paused, mid-sentence, when he glanced in the green tinged rear-view mirror only to see that Claire had fallen asleep. He'd have to continue his rant about his parents, his childhood, his rocky start to adolescence, and of his schooling later.

St John's Academy, situated in a wealthy section of suburban Philadelphia, was a place where the judges and politicians, and chief executives of the area sent their sons for grade and high schools.

By the summer of 1994, Embry had all but sold his soul to avoid having to go there. Even upon entering his sixth grade year, he had a fairly firm handle on what he needed, or, at the very least, wanted; especially with regards to a place that he'd have to endure for eight or more hours of each day. This place was not a place he'd want to be, with its perfect, shiny floors, perfect-looking WASP students and massive church attached. Not this place, with its choking stiffness.

This was not a place for the creative. This was not a place for someone like him. He required a place that would provide the patience and one-on-one attention that, at that point in his young life, he needed so desperately.

Embry had known he was different for as long as he could remember.

He saw things differently. He thought differently, though, of course, he never realized until it was so unceremoniously pointed out to him by his peers, on several occasions. One thing, however, that Embry never lacked was self-confidence, which helped turn his unfocused brain into a wunderkind, after some time, and a person that had several friends, generally. In those early years, this was always a quandary to Embry – he never really tried to gain them.

At fourteen, he drew the line at boarding school. He refused to go to Boston-area Worton; he'd sooner run away, to Spain, perhaps. Maybe he'd even go to Greece, but before he'd ever choose to do something so rash, so selfish, he had to consider Jacob and Quil. They were his real friends. They got him, and they didn't judge. He also refused to leave the art department that he'd been doing so well in, or the support of Ms. Dwyer, who had been so patient and saw the potential in him.

Math and the arts were where Embry excelled. Well, he excelled in most things without much effort, but mathematics was where he soared. When he tried to explain how he'd only ever gotten perfect grades in every math class he'd ever been in, including advance calculus by grade six, he could only describe numbers and logic as he'd always seen it in his brain.

…The way he'd always seen numbers, and music notes, and chess moves, and scientific equations.

He saw them as a series of colors.

It all came down to color.

Eights were cold and blue.

Zeros were red and thin brush strokes.

He soon learned that that was also not normal.

Neither was the perfect score on his SATs or his complete inability to focus on anything that didn't involve percussion instruments.

No, none of it was very normal, at all.

Embry was special. Even still, at the time, what was occurring seemed anything but. His genius manifested itself in almost complete withdrawal from anything and anyone that weren't his two friends, an easel, or a piano. More, once he'd hit puberty, his differences morphed into a complete inability to focus, need to always be away from home and with Jacob and Quil, and a near-perfect mathematical, musical, and artistic memory.

He would continue at St. Johns. He would stay as his parents travelled in Europe and Western Asia, his only supervision being his elderly grandmother. And he'd managed to get himself into quite a bit of trouble over the years, which, looking back, he was sure would have been a lot worse were it not for his friends. For the first few years, he was bitterly angry with his parents for leaving him there to fend for himself. Even now, at almost thirty, he still harbored the same boundless emotions of his youth.

Jacob stopped just outside Cincinnati's city limits to refill the tank, quietly engaging in the simple task. He took his time and didn't make a big deal when Claire wandered off to look around and stretch her legs. Embry leaned against the MDX with his arms crossed and brows furrowed, thoughtfully, for a few moments. Then, he pursed his lips like he always did.

"You good to drive into the city? You've been goin' since Virginia." He cocked his head to the side and looked at Jake for any signs of fatigue.

Jake returned his friend's gaze and took inventory of how he was feeling at the moment. Just like the days prior, the only thing he could really feel was raw. He didn't know what to do with or to make of these feelings, so he tried this best to push them away. He tried everything to ignore the emotional distress, which he was learning would remain with him for the long-haul, like a deep-set splinter underneath his thumb.

His body was healing nicely, thankfully, because he was nearing the bottom of his prescription, but he still wasn't resting enough. He'd really gotten used to the tired, dull wanton ache that resulted from a lack of good sleep. So, he ignored that altogether.

"I'm okay. It's only another hour or so, or at least that's what the GPS says."

Embry smirked and Jake almost smiled. He'd always had the worst luck with GPSs and the one that came with his truck was no exception. Embry hated the thing, but, at least it kept them somewhat on-route. God only knew what would happen if he'd have to read the map that he'd commandeered from the hotel in back in Crystal City.

"Where's Claire?" Jake looked around and tried his best not behave as the concerned patriarch he was feeling like at the moment.

Embry glanced around, as well, and then saw a head of jet-black hair and a graceful neck from fifty yards away. She was standing in line with a handful of various food items, and smiling a weak smile at the obvious advance of a guy, about their age, in line behind her. Jake followed Embry's gaze and his jaw clenched involuntarily, as did his grip on the handle of the gas nozzle. He watched intently for any wrong-move by the guy, quietly sizing him up from where he stood in the parking lot and preparing himself for the possible need to react if the stranger stepped out of line with their Claire. Embry watched, too, with less fury, yes, but watched closely, never the less.

After half a beat, Claire exited, the guy seemed to back off, and Jake was able to relax a bit. Embry met her a few steps away from the car and helped her with the bags. Jacob watched the simple interaction until she was seated in the vehicle, and the gas nozzle clicked loudly indicating it had reached capacity. He climbed into the driver's seat and prepared for the remainder of the drive, pressing various buttons – the air conditioning, the radio. He preferred the silence, but learned that hours on an open road with nothing to entertain didn't do well with others included on the trip.

"Jake..." Claire's sing-songy voice got his attention, his head turning.

"…Got you some Mountain Dews." Her tone, coupled with her feminine hand swaying the green and yellow can in feigned enticement, caused an unexpected smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. It felt so foreign, so odd, and uncomfortable. So much so that he took the cold beverage from her and that small smile quickly disappeared.

...but not before Claire saw it, and man, did it look amazing on him. It made her heart jump a little, which was a decidedly strange reaction to have for Jacob. But, he had smiled for her. The first one she'd seen since, well, she couldn't remember when. Perhaps, things weren't as bad as she had previously thought with him. Maybe he was coming around, if even in the smallest amount.

Jake slipped into his favorite sneakers after feeling around in the dark for jeans and a t-shirt. The night was cool but pleasant, and the twinkling city lights made his walk an easy one. After relenting to the gorilla that was his insomnia, he remembered the bar he'd noticed as the trio made their way into the city when he'd awaken. It would do and provide him with something to pass the next few hours until Quil and Claire would wake, too. He could finally get a drink and, hopefully, some time to himself, and rest from the perceived strong front he was performing for Claire and Embry's benefit. He was tired in mind and body, and, as he crossed the small side street to enter, he began his descent and took off the mask.

Hours before he'd left, Claire had crawled into his bed and snuggled closely to him. He flipped through every thought imaginable, wondering why she had chosen to sleep with him that night. Did she pity him? Did she see the aching desire for human touch that he furtively wanted so badly through this difficult time? It was a desire that he'd never, ever admit to her or Embry. He'd wanted to stay there with her, to feel her warm, soft body and smell her light, citrus smell, but his mind was racing and he literally couldn't remain there, lying next to her a second longer.

So, there he sat, in the little dive with heavy wooden booths, a loudly-playing FIFA match, and too many patrons. He straddled his massive body on a stool in a corner of the bar, sipping his Jack and Coke. Then he followed it with a Red Stripe, staring straight ahead for the first hour, sipping, and thinking, and sipping.

"Can I get you another one?" Jacob glanced around after his broken daze, finally locking his two black eyes with two blue ones.

The bartender was hot.

Even through the haze of liquor and pain, Jacob could see that.

She wore a denim vest, showcasing her ample breasts, a short leather skirt and cowboy boots. She flipped her waist-length auburn hair over her shoulder, noting his confusion and nodding to the empty glass sitting in front of him. He nodded, and she turned to prepare his simple drink.

"You're not from around her, eh?" She set the dark mixture in front him after placing a small, squared napkin down. He remained silent, and looked at her through intense eyes. Hot or not, Jacob was not in the mood for small talk.

Bartender nodded her understanding, and went about her night, serving her other patrons, glimpsing in the direction of Jacob and monitoring the liquor in his glass. As much as he tried to ignore her, though, she made herself known; bending over to better hear a customer, a sliver more of shapely thigh making itself known to him and, while reaching up for a low-ball glass, a slice of stomach peeking through.

As the night wore on and the futbol matches continued, she retrieved a pair of shot glasses, placed them on the edge of the bar, and reached for the Cuervo, because it was her favorite and because the tall Indian was cute and dangerous-looking. She filled them each to the brim and Jacob watched intently as she placed small bowls of salt and limes between the two of them. Bartender raised an eyebrow and glanced around the bar, before resting her blue eyes back on Jacob.

"C'mon, now," she began, "you won't let a girl drink by herself, huh?" Jacob's jaw clenched and unclenched, in mild annoyance, as he made his decision. His fingers dwarfed the tiny glass, as Bartender licked the fatty crook connecting her thumb and index finger. She noticed that the tall Indian completely ignored her salt and limes, so she decides to, as well.

"Salud." She raised the glass to her lips, with chipped black nail polished-fingers. Then, the pair consume the liquid in one synchronized motion.

He was where he needed to be. His head was just fuzzy enough to numb the pain, but not so much so that he didn't have control over his actions. At least, that was after the one; by his third shot of tequila, he was certifiably intoxicated. He could get back to the hotel, but just barely – only, only if he didn't drink anymore.

The bartender continued to chat him up, and pour him shots of tequila, even after her shift ended around 3AM.

"So, you gonna tell me more about yourself, or do I have to feed you more of the Cuervo for you to open up?" She cocked an eyebrow and licked her lips with a smirk. Jacob knew that look; he'd seen it on every sorority girl that had ever played late-night beer pong with him and his team mates. Initially, that look scared the shit out of him, coming from a girl like this bartender. She looked wild, and powerful, and fearless, three things he neither had the wherewithal nor the cognizance to handle. But, as the night and morning wore on, she looked even better than she did when he was sober, and her fearlessness pulled out of him a fearlessness of his own. He lost what little resistance he had, and his brain slowly turned to mush at the thought of her knee pressing persistently against his under the heavy, worn booth.

He squinted and, in that moment, he noticed something for the first time since the accident, and even before that; the night with Rose and Edward and his lost best friend.

He wasn't hurting. He didn't feel the stabbing in his chest, and the guilt wasn't overtaking him.

He was swimming, watery, like a dream. His body felt fine, and his mind was only on one thing; the undeniably attractive bartender who had released a button on the top of her vest and had her practiced fingers gripping his knee. He grinned at her, playing with the skinny straw he'd been chewing on for the past half-hour, and showing her what he hadn't showed in a while: his perfect teeth and the deep dimples of his cheeks that seemed out of place on his masculine face.

"Now, that's what I want to see," Bartender said, her eyelids droopy from alcohol and a 10-hour shift, and from lust.

Bartender tried her best to keep her balance as Jake pressed himself into her again, and again, her bare back rubbing against the scratchy, graffiti and god-knows-what-else covered bathroom wall. The heel of her boot on the edge of the toilet did little to help, as she jerked violently toward and away from him. Jake was fully with her, in that men's bathroom that smelled of urine and stale liquor. What he wasn't was thinking about the pain, and for that he was grateful.

She moaned loudly. He grunted, and after exactly thirteen minutes in the red-light lit box, Jake emptied himself into the sheath of latex. Bartender smiled the smile of a minx, of a woman that had gotten what she'd wanted, and Jacob tucked himself back into his favorite jeans; jeans that Rose had bought him.

After she'd slid her phone number into his jeans pocket and made her way back into the bar, Jake tried his best to steady himself and splash water from the ancient-looking faucet on his face. He stumbled back into the cool early-morning air and then the expensive hotel room the three were staying in for the night, or the week, whatever.

He was drunk, but not drunk enough to miss that he smelled of sex and sweat and nauseatingly-sweet liquor. He briefly considered showering before entering the bed with Claire again – he wouldn't have her smelling another woman on him – but thought better of it. He could barely fish out his key card and enter the hotel room, let alone master the dexterity required for washing oneself at this level of intoxication. So, instead, he found the oversized chaise lounge in the sitting room, slipped out of his sneakers and shirt, because shit, he was hot, and did as little to focused on what he'd spent the night doing or who he'd done it with as possible.

He wasn't in pain. He felt okay. He still felt watery, and dreamy, and fuzzy, but at least he felt fine. He didn't think of Rose, or of Quil or the accident. He didn't think of Philadelphia, or of his parents, or of his mortgage. He thought of Bartender; of the feel of her and the taste of her mouth. He shifted until he was comfortable. Then, Jacob let the numbing effects of sleep and drunkenness ease him under.

====

A/N – Thanks for reading; I appreciate each one of you. Jake is obviously going through a tough time, as are the rest of the group, each processing their grief differently.

Thanks to my beta, Kay Cannon, she rocks, and to her I am wildly grateful.

And I want to invite you to check out my C2, Pack Play that I manage with my friends Little Furry Cannibals, Dahlia Black, and Wolfpull85. It's not for the faint of heart, but, you may find some naughty things staring your favorite member of the TTS wolfpack. (http):/(www.)fanfiction.(net)/community/(Pack_Play_The_Best_In_Wolfpack_Lemons)/75509/

Come follow me on Twitter. ArtBeatsandLife

The Neighbor - Chapter 8 - Pressed Again

2010-12-13T11:09:00.000-08:00

Chapter 8 - Pressed Again

We made it to our gate in enough time, even after stopping at an airport restaurant for burgers and mulling around for snacks and magazines. I really, really needed gummy bears, so Jake searched for the ones I wanted that weren't too hard - I hated that. He also tracked down the exact People Magazine with Matthew McConaughey on the cover that Alice had been telling me all about. It had an editorial with a vintage-looking dress she was considering incorporating in the wedding somehow, maybe for a bridesmaid or even a mother-of-the-bride dress. Her mother Esme did have the perfect figure for it.

Of course, being with Jake day to day I'd seen others stare. I mean we were a pretty striking couple, especially Jake with his height and perfect body, and stunning face and eyes. But, I'd never traveled with him, never had that many eyes on us, especially from women - young, old, flight attendants, teens traveling with family, all of them couldn't help staring at Jake, and then at me, appraisingly. 'Who was the brunette with the amazing, demigod?'

Eat your heart out, bitches; yes, he's fucking me, and it's better than you could ever imagine.

Jake was definitely beautiful - it was apparent to anyone that had eyeballs - but, what made it special, and almost comforting, was that it was unobtrusive. His gorgeousness wasn't obnoxious, and, with those dimples, well, he had an acute masculinity juxtaposed with near...cuteness.

A smile so small I'm sure no one could see it but me played on his lips as he glanced in my direction, seeing my subtle but apparent war stare. Yes, I was peeing on him, marking my territory, ready to strike in the direction of any woman willing to challenge this brunette.

He was amused.

He paused for a moment, pulling me to a complete stop and wrapping his arms around me lovingly.

What? What is he doing?

He pressed his lips to mine, parting them slightly and sliding his tongue across my own, smoothing my lips softly, moving his mouth in a kiss that nearly singed my eyebrows off.

Wow.

"I'm yours," he assured, placing one last peck against my very surprised lips. He nodded a silent punctuated affirmation, then quickly walked us to the appropriate gate, never moving his hand from my ass, while managing our baggage with practiced agility. I did a mental victory dance as I saw the faces of so many of those women go sick with envy.

Mine.

He smiled at me again, as we made our way through the tunnel, and the butterflies that had most recently shown themselves in my stomach returned to their fluttering. I realized I was being a bit silly. If this thing was ever going to work between us, I had to promise myself that I'd deal with this whole jealousy issue. I mean, I couldn't in good conscious man-handle every goo-goo eyed school girl and hot business woman that ever laid eyes on Jake, now could I?

We were seated on the top level, in two of the seats closest to a window, toward the back, giving us privacy, which was perfect for us. We settled in for our thirteen hour flight – Jake pulled out his laptop and began working on his next chapter, countless books and notes scattered about. I loved watching him work, especially on something he was so passionate about. I stuck in my ear buds, turned on Kings of Leon and tried to shave off a couple hours by taking a nap.

Jake and I both purchased on-air wifi, so I managed to get quite a bit of work done, plus answer the looming list of emails that were piling up in my work inbox. Victoria was asking for several items for Zenitar that Brent was on her ass about. And, after some creative 6 hour time difference scheduling, I had a conference call with Mike and team on Monday evening. Not to mention, I had to proof a billboard that another of our clients, Red Circle, was planning on placing in the middle of downtown Miami.

I tried to break up our hours of work by pausing to kiss Jake's cheek or neck. He'd follow with a peck on my forehead or nose, or rub my knee, and my heart would jump. Still. My heart still jumped for him like when I had just laid eyes on him in that hallway.

I took a break finally, deciding to pull out a book, and, after a while, peeked out from behind the copy of Grapes of Wrath I'd started over an hour before that. I'd napped, Jake and I had talked, of course, iPod, laptop, work and writing...

Yeah.

I was restless.

I was restless, we still had 5 hours left before we reached Charles de Gaulle, and Jake was doing that thing he did when he was deep in thought that just drove me crazy. His eyes were deeply intense and his brows were drawn inward in concentration. He just looked so handsome and I couldn't stop myself from remembering this face as one I had seen so many times before, only, there were far less clothes involved between us.

My knee started bouncing about two seconds before I realized the wetness and heat. I tried to get some relief, squeezing my thighs together, rolling my hips as inconspicuously as I could, but those small movements were of little help to my current situation. I lifted the center armrest, and moved a bit closer to Jake, lightly leaning into him so I could feel the hardness of his muscular arm against my soft, and growingly more sensitive, breast.

I paused to appreciate him, the smell of him, the earthy sweetness of clove, the feel of him against my body. I had long before slipped out of my flats, and was gently rubbing the top of my foot against his calf, wrapping my leg around his, and soundlessly purring my pleasure and need for him. His cheek curled into a half-smile for a couple seconds; he tapped a few keys and hit save before lifting his fingers from his keyboard and stowing his laptop away.

"Yes?" he questioned, playfully.

By this point, I had all but wrapped my entire body around him; my legs were tangled in his, and I was leaning the full weight of my body on him. I grinned, and he laughed and slipped under the blanket I had draped over my lap. I looked around in the darkness, attempting to be...demure? I mean, we were on a public flight with dozens of other people just feet away. I'm pretty sure Jake didn't give a shit, though, as he leaned me against the cabin window, his massive hands inching and squeezing up my thigh. I tried my best not to giggle too loudly, but was fast losing that battle as his soft mouth kissed and bit my neck, setting off sparks of pleasure directly connected to my nipples.

"You're insatiable, you know that?" he murmured against my ear, inching his hands higher on my thigh, his cock stiff against my hip.

My body responded immediately to him, my mouth watered, and I felt another wave of heat spread over me. It was late, or early, as we jetted somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, many passengers fast asleep or reading in the dim lighting above head. I wanted to be quiet, I really did, but, after Jake curled his hand around mine and pressed it against him, wanting me to feel his cock, as solid as iron, I was a whimpering, low-moaning mess.

"You are so bad. I want you," he continued, grinding himself into my palm. "We need to find somewhere to go, cuz I gotta fuck you soon..." he whispered, slipping his fingers in the waistband of my leggings and past my panties, until he was knuckle-deep inside me.

Oh my god.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe, let alone figure out where we could go. All I could do was feel his fingers rhythmically inside me. In...out...in...out...

"Goddamnit Bella...you smell so fucking good." He quickly pulled his fingers out of me, sucking them clean, and then eased into me again.

I could have cum right then. The thought of him enjoying the taste of me that much was just so beyond sexy. Even in the dim night air, I could see him licking his lips, and sucking them into his mouth. I was so fucking wet, so ready, I was sure I'd need new clothes. This was just ridiculous.

"Shit—" I ground out, feeling the deep spasms begin as I rolled my hips against his steady fingers. His thumb circled my clit, as he forced three fingers back inside me. I tried to find purchase on anything I could, one hand gripping the back of his hair, the other curling a fist around his sweatpants-covered dick. The heat hummed though my body. It wasn't a huge, overpowering thing like so many of the orgasms he'd forced from me, but it was delicious all the same. His lips finally found mine, soft and eager, and I moaned into his mouth, assuring him that I'd just cum. I knew he was just as wound up at the moment as I was, leaning closer to me and trying to catch his breath.

"Bella, I'll go first. I'll be at the back of the plane, in the bathroom. You wait a minute, then..." He kissed my lips, again. "...meet me in there."

My body immediately felt the emptiness once his warmth was away from me, and as soon as he left, I wanted him near me again. I wanted to be anywhere he was. I watched him lithely make his way the short trip down the aisle, and enter the lavatory. I was obedient, doing just as he had told, but wondering how the two of us would fit into such a small space comfortably and unnoticed.

The bathroom was slightly larger than any I'd seen state-side, I assumed because I'd never flown a non-American airline, and it flew internationally, so there's probably something to be said about flying on such long flights. Jake had barely folded himself into the small space height-wise, but he looked to be okay, even more so now that I had joined him there. What was it with us in bathrooms these days?

I felt his lips on mine, as he pulled me to him, running his hands up and down the sides of my body, while sucking and kissing my neck and the underside of my jaw. All at once, I had on too many layers of clothes, and so did he. I wished that I could see his body - all of him - but we didn't have much time, or room, and we needed this.

Jake urgently pulled at my pants, leaning into me and squeezing and biting at my tits. He yanked my shirt and bra enough to expose my nipples. Then, his soft, wet mouth was on them, licking and sucking, rolling his tongue and flicking my nipple, and I stifled a moan. He knew what that fucking did to me.

His hands slid into the back of my panties and pants, pulling the wet-suctioned fabric away from my body and down to just below my knees. My fingers found the drawstring of his sweats and pulled at them until I had access to what I wanted. I slipped his shirt up and over his head, because I had to feel his hot naked skin against mine. I had to smell him and taste his nipples in my mouth.

I licked my palm, wrist to tip, and began pumping my fist up and down his cock. He leaned me against the small sink area, patting my hip and prompting me to widen my stance. I was so excited that I wanted him inside of me like I needed air. I needed to feel the searing heat and burn of his body stretching mine. I needed to feel his dick filling me, tightly, until I'd lost all other thoughts except how good he made me feel.

Jake gingerly bent his knees, with his dick gripped with confidence, positioning himself just-so. Then, he stood upward and eased inside me with his fingers squeezing my hips firmly. I hissed it was so good; the satisfying feel of him stretching, making it hurt with pleasure at the very same time. The feel of his hands on my body, the way he commanded and had complete control over me.

He began his slow pace, taking his time, pulling and pushing my body as he needed to, kissing my neck, and licking a long trail to my shoulder.

"Jake...shit..." I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, only to have him shush me.

"Bella," he said against my ear, so low even I could barely hear him, "you gotta be quiet, babe. Damn you feel so good." He was even harder, even bigger, in this position, grinding deeper inside me with every stroke.

I could only stand there and feel. Feel him wrap my hair around his fist, and tug, jerking my head back gently so he could have better access to my lips. Feel him smoothly fucking me, like it wasn't affecting him nearly as much as it was me, but I knew better. He looked at me closely with those black eyes, and was rough but tender, and passionate, and entirely focused on what we were doing, what he was doing to me.

He lapped at my nipples, pulling each one into his mouth silently, the only sounds the whirring of engine jets and the soft slosh and of him pressing and dragging his too-big dick in and out of my embarrassingly wet pussy.

I bit my lip to keep from moaning and dug my nails into his upper arms to stop myself from slapping his chest. The sensation, the excitement of us there at that moment, inches away from others, not able to move more than a foot in any direction, and concentrating on his movements was a bit much. I tried not to, because it was so good, like better than some of our best times together, and I really never wanted him to stop fucking me just like this, but...

"Cumming," I said, in a clipped whisper against his mouth on mine. He growled an affirmation, before bending his knees until the thick rounded tip of his dick was almost entirely out of me, and standing upright, deepening his stroke; so deep, he forced me upward with him to near tip-toe. I could feel everything, hyper-sensitive to every piece of naked skin touching me, every groove, and every thick inch of him.

My fingers curled tightly, while my teeth bit into the tender skin of my lip so hard I was afraid I'd draw blood. My pussy contracting around him was so intense I wanted to cry, and yell, and hit him even more. I tried to keep control, but it didn't matter, just as it never did, and my body continued to jerk, and spasm, and grind on his still very solid cock.

He let me finish; he waited a few moments until I was done, before slowly pulling out of me.

"Turn around," he whispered, simply. Jake stepped backward, slightly, to allow for me to obey. Then he lead me to the right spot, placing my palms flat against either side of the sink. "Wider."

I spread my legs as wide as the space and the elasticity of my leggings would allow. He ran his fingers up the length of my bare lips, pausing to rub my clit, before he was deep inside me, again. I grunted, forcing back the proceeding loud outburst that had nearly escaped. My palms were tight fists, steadying myself against forceful strokes. Jake's hands found my waist, pulling me onto his cock, moving me here or there, and looking for the spot that he knew would make me cum a third time, with his eyes trained on my body, my ass, or my tits.

I watched him fucking me, though.

In the mirror, in the low lighting, was the reflection of the man I loved behind me, glancing up, and looking me intensely in the eye, as he fucked me.

"Bella..." he whispered, pulling my hair to the side opposite him, "you look so good..so fucking sexy... so bad. You love it like this don't you?" Face grimacing in pleasure, I nodded.

Yeah. I'm gonna cum again.

There, as he forcefully drove into me, causing my whole body to jump forward with every thrust, I got why he loved watching my tits bounce like this when he fucked me; this shit was so hot.

"Want me...come...don't you?" he mouthed to me in the mirror. His face was so beautiful, so satisfied, with so much love for me, full and on display.

I nodded again, as he slipped even further and sped his pace, gripping me tightly, pressing his lips to my ear.

Almost losing my balance a couple times, Jake leaned me into the cold steel So, I let him touch me, and grab me, and press his bare chest against my back. He brushed his fingers roughly against my clit, stroking me, as I pushed myself against the steady movement of his hands and hips. He only held my gaze for a moment later, his dark eyes squeezing shut and his focus turning to the orgasm that was washing over him. My attention turned, as well, every ounce of concentration on the building, then to the clenching drug out of my body, and the dripping and slickness that was his release mixed with my own.

We stayed there, coupled for a few moments, as we both allowed our breathing to return to some semblance of normal. I tried my best to clean up, while Jake re-dressed, and wantonly watched me push my tits back into my bra. "See something you like over here?"

"Oh, yeah." He reached for my clothes, playfully trying to pull them back off. I giggled a little too loudly, slapping his hands away as he exited the small space with me right on his heels. We nearly ran straight into one of the attractive middle-aged flight attendants, who gave us both a knowingly stern eyeing.

Jake smiled smoothly at her, like the most normal thing in the world was two people exiting a transcontinental flight restroom together.

I chucked nervously. "Hi…uh, hey."

"Please take your seats. The captain has just turned on the 'fasten seat-belts' sign," she murmured with a heavy English accent. I pressed my forehead into Jake's back, clasping his hand tightly, fully mortified.

As inconspicuously as possible, we made our way back to our seats, me completely satiated, him with a knowing grin. He couldn't keep his hands off of my hip, my thigh, my arm; he was excited like I'd ever seen him before, hopped up on the thrill of us in that enclosed public space.

Soon, after we'd both come down from our sex high, and had finished making out for a few moments, we did something we rarely did, because, admittedly, neither of us are extremely verbose. We talked.

"I love you," Jake said, kissing the side of my neck.

"I love you too, babe."

"I'm glad you're coming with me. I can't see wanting anyone else to be here besides you." He kissed along my jaw until his lips lingered against mine. He pulled away, leaning back in his seat and pulling my legs into his lap, rubbing my calves and ankles.

"We do always have fun together."

He wagged his eyebrows suggestively. "That we do."

I slapped him playfully on his chest, and he responded with a look of feigned innocence and surprise. I rolled my eyes with a grin. "You know what I mean."

"I do." He squeezed my thigh, almost wrapping his entire palm around my leg.

"Well...that, but we always laugh, you know? I mean, you're my person. Besides Ali, you're the first person I want to run to and tell a dirty joke or, like, when Victoria's being an ultrabitch."

"Bells, you're my person, too. You know that."

"I know, I know. I just – I mean," I shifted in his hold on me, "I just wanted you to know it."

He nodded. "I know it, Bells, cuz I feel the same way."

His honesty was all in his eyes, just like it always was; I kissed his lips softly, playing with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. I wondered if it ever got lonely while he was away from Florida, away on assignment to these places where there was not a soul who knew him or his family. No one to look after him or to make sure he was calling his dad, or eating right or just... someone that loved him.

"You and Angela ever go to Paris?"

"No, just me. She could never get away from the office long enough for anything overseas." Jake talked about his ex sparingly, as did I, neither of us wanting to relive past lives that were gone long before we'd met.

"You never wanted her there with you?" I found it odd that he wouldn't. He always wanted me with him, even in those small little life moments that don't really mean much, but mean everything.

Jake paused and looked at me thoughtfully. "I did, but I think by the point I'd really started going overseas, Angie and I were going through some things, you know?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Those last days can be rough."

"Right. So, traveling started being an escape from the situation, I'm kinda sad to say."

There were a few moments of comfortable silence between us. He pulled me closer to him, and I glanced at my BlackBerry, realizing we had just over three hours left.

"You talk to Peter?"

Of course he'd bring up Peter. I brought up Angela, after all.

"Yeah, for a few minutes last week. He called to tell me his mom was sick, again."

Jake nodded an affirmation, eyebrows furrowing. He'd never admit it – Jake had way too much man pride for that – but I knew he hated when I talked to him. We'd broken up over two years ago, but, really, no one ever really forgets their real first love.

"You planning to visit her?"

"No. I'll send over flowers or something. I just can't do that with him right now."

"You sure?" He meant that I should think of my relationship with his mother and not my relationship with Peter, and think about seeing her. I wasn't disagreeing; it was something I'd just have to think through before breaching. I'd have to figure out a way to completely bypass any possible face-to-face contact with him. I definitely wouldn't deal with that if I could help it at all.

"Yeah. I'll have to think about it. I do want to see Marie. I just...I don't want to see him, you know?"

Jake was quiet, appeased for the moment, but I was sure I'd hear more about this subject in the future.

"You ever think you won't want to do this traveling thing, I mean, long-term? I know you love it..."

"Yeah, you know I love this. Right now anyway, but, with you now, it brings up some things."

It was my turn to look at him quizzically. Not really sure what he meant by that, a million things ran through my mind, most of them good, some of them pretty awesome, a couple of them kinda, not so nice. He saw me purse my lips, preparing for my line of questions.

"Why don't you take a nap, babe? I have a little more to write before we get there, huh?" He slowly kissed my lips, and I nodded my response, pushing back my questions for a later, easier time. Then, I sipped my room temperature apple juice, and pulled my blanket up around my chin.

---

The water was set as hot as I could stand it.

I stood there, under the spray, letting it soak my body, from head to toe, rubbing my shoulders, arms and legs, because I was beyond sore from traveling on that flight for all those hours. Even with my periodic strolls through the plane to stretch my legs, being out of that small space was like heaven. My fingers raked through my scalp, ran over my body, scrubbing the day, and early morning and sex from my skin. It was just about midnight back in Jacksonville and Jake and I were already feeling the effects of jetlag taking over our cognitive functions.

Jake was in the room, unpacking whatever was most important for now, plugging in our various electronic devices and stripping down to just his boxer-briefs. I peeled my own clothes from by body, leaving them in a heap in the corner of the bedroom. The hotel was more than I'd expected, our room being more of a long-term stay mini apartment with a master bedroom, sitting area and small kitchenette.

I scrubbed again, ran shampoo through my hair, thoroughly washing and rinsing because the showerhead in that hotel bathroom was like ecstasy on my skin. After dragging my toothbrush around my mouth and a few other primping rituals, I was ready to test out that amazingly soft-looking featherbed.

"All yours." We crossed paths, me with my towel wrapped snugly around my body.

I ran my hand drier through my hair, just enough for it not to soak the pillow through, before giving Renee, Alice and Charlie a quick text letting them know I was beat, but I'd made it to Paris safely and to expect calls once I'd slept for three days. If I was any less exhausted, though, I would have jumped on Jake, getting things started that I was much too tired to do, as I watched his perfectly muscled bare body casually stride into the bathroom, steam billowing from the door.

Good God. That ass.

I curled into the bed and, just as I thought, it was amazing. Sleep in a brand new bed, in Paris, even though it was 6 a.m., was ideal. I waited a good ten minutes for Jake, but I was exhausted, and the bed was just so...damn...awesome.

The sounds from the street below woke us, the light spilling in from the afternoon sun. Luckily, our room was facing away from the searing heat of day, granting me some relief. Jake's iPhone went off next, his dad, or editor or someone like that, no doubt, though. He just felt around for it, silencing it without looking, his head still buried in a mountain of ice-white pillows.

"Oh my god..."

"I know..." Jake finally rolled over, fidgeting with the small device, making sure the settings were turned off completely.

"Somewhere, someone's telling us it's time to get up."

"I completely disagree with you" he mumbled, pulling my body closer to him and wrapping himself around me.

I giggled. "So, how do you think we're ever gonna sleep now, huh? It's like Central Park out there, and like my office in here."

"I don't care, I don't care, I don't care," he chanted, burying his face in my hair, then kissing my neck.

"Jake..." I sing-songed.

"Bella..."

His mouth was on me, kissing me softly, placing pecks along my bottom lip, and then deepening, with his smooth tongue moving across mine. We stayed there, kissing, and running fingertips over cotton-covered nipples, and bare skin. We were completely naked seconds later, as he edged his way between my thighs, wrapping his strong arms around each of them, running his tongue around my clit, and pressing his middle and ring fingers inside me. He lapped his stiff, then flat tongue across that sensitive spot, curling his fingers until we both felt the wetness, and I was cumming.

He hovered above me, kissing me again, letting me taste myself on his lips. I slid my palms along his waist and hips, taking his boxers with them and throwing them to the hardwood floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he was inside me, again. We were moving, grinding our hips together, wetness covering my bare pussy, him slickly bowing and curving his back and sucking along the underside of my breasts.

"Oh, Jake, baby..." I gasped and moaned his name, and a million other things, as I came, quickly and easily. I don't know if it was something about us being in Paris or about this being our first time in this bed together, but, god, we felt good together.

We were together three more times before the night came, and Jake went out for food for us. We ate on the balcony, talking about all kinds of unimportant things, drinking wine and watching the night lights. I loved him even more, as he cracked his jokes and told me stories of him travelling over the last couple years.

"And, what exactly am I supposed to do while you're out saving the world with your pen?"

"I told you, Bells, I'll introduce you to Rose tomorrow. She's great. You'll love her; she can show you around. I'm pretty sure she'll have lots of time on her hands with all the retail shops around here being closed for holiday and all."

I looked at him, completely unconvinced. "Okay, Jake. I really hate to make her have to babysit me."

"No way, Bells. I already talked to her, and let her know that I'd be here and I was bringing you with me. She's excited, trust me."

"Jake..."

"But, uh, you may have to do some shopping with her..."

"Jake. Define some."

"You worry too much, Bella. It will all work out. Trust me." He flashed me that grin, again, the one with the dimple I wanted to stick my tongue in, and, somewhere, I knew I was in for trouble.

=====

A/N - So, they finally made it! I hope Jake and Bella's recent induction into the Mile High Club was everything you hoped it would be!

Thank you to my ficwife and beta, Kay Cannon for all her hard work. Whipping this thing into shape was no small feat.

Thank you to Live720, KennedyMommy and Bella Gattino for all their positivity. You girls make this story so fun to write.

A few plugs:

-The Neighbor has been nominated for an Underdog Award over at The Air, The Sun. If you like this little tangy fic, show some love over there when the time is right for voting :) (http):(/community.)livejournal.(com)/theair_thesun/96200.(html)

-I have a little C2 here on FFn, Pack Play: The Best In Wolfpack Lemons. I personally suggest you hopping on over when you get a chance, if you're looking for a dirty little story starring your favorite wolfpack member. Don't forget to search the M-rated fics. (http)(:)/(www).fanfiction.(net)/community/Pack_Play_The_Best_In_Wolfpack_Lemons/75509/

-If you aren't following me on twitter already, what the hell are you waiting for? Artbeatsandlife

Okay that's it ladies and germs. Until next time...

The Neighbor - Chapter 7: Leaving on a Jetplane

2010-12-13T11:01:00.000-08:00

Short A/N: The Neighbor is up for the 'Jacob You Would Do' category http : / / www . livejournal . com /poll/?id=1618053 in The Underdogs Awards http : / / community . livejournal . com /theair_thesun/108134 . html, be sure to show some love and vote! Shout out to Seventh Inning Stretch by Live720 as well. AWESOME story!

"Jake!" Renee completely bypassed me in favor of a near running-hop into the arms of my boyfriend.

"Ms. Dwyer..." Jake started, his sun-eclipsing smile spread across his lips as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Renee!" my mother admonished, "I told you to call me Renee."

"Of course, Renee," he continued, with his grin. "I brought dessert. I hope that's okay." I had convinced him to make that chocolate thing that I'd gone so batshit for once upon a time. It seemed so long ago, so many things had changed in our lives, even in that moment, as we stood at a precipice of our future, only days away from our month-long trip abroad.

Even though I tried my best to stop myself, I couldn't; trust me, with an hyperactive best friend like Alice chirping in my ear about the whole thing, I couldn't help it. I was so, so excited. Excited to travel to a place I'd never been and to be living in the city of lights, Paris, for such an extended period of time. Excited to be staying at the gorgeous hotel we were, but, most of all, excited to be going with Jake, a man that was single-handedly showing me what love, and passion, and the thrill of newness was really all about.

"Of course, Jake," Renee answered, smiling. "Bella has told me all about this stuff. And, lemme tell you, if its half as good as she says, you may have to pry it away from me." She winked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Uh, hi?" What am I, chopped liver? Maybe at some point, she'd notice I was standing there.

"Oh, hey Bellabear!" She kissed me quickly on the cheek, and then turned back to Jake. Gotta love her.

He handed Renee the tulips I'd picked out. I told him they were her favorite, and he thought it'd be a good idea to bring them along. This was the second time they'd ever met, with the first being an impromptu drop-in when I needed to pick up my birth certificate from the house. We'd only stayed for a short time, but I knew my crazy mother enough to know that she was absolutely gaga over him, which made me smile.

She'd insisted, much like Jake's dad, that we stop my soon, and we all figured it would be a good idea that that happen before we left the country for so long. I tried to tell my mom that I'd cook, or even Jake – that she didn't have to go to any trouble – but she insisted that Gavin, her personal chef, make something for the occasion. We didn't protest too much because, as I'd told Jake before, Gavin's jerk chicken and herb potato mash was worth killing over.

We walked through the massive doors of the home I'd spent most of my teens in, everything still brilliant, colorful, and eclectic, just like Renee. Phil was travelling, of course; taping something or other for ESPN, now that he was a high-paid anchor one of its more popular shows. It was an easy transition after he'd retired from baseball last year.

The three of us stopped at the kitchen, and as Renee took the clear dish from Jake, ushering us into the living room sitting area, she began chatting away with him. I adored how he looked with the people I loved most in the world. It gave me warm-fuzzies I'd never admit to. He felt comfortable; warm like the sun. He felt like home

As Renee continued her friendly questioning, Jake answered every one charmingly, and I shook my head with a smile. Before long, dinner was ready.

I searched for the teeniest bikini I could, because I really didn't want any tan lines, and my blue one appeared to fit that description. Jake seemed to love the racing stripes across the outsides of by breasts and along my hips after I'd been in the sun for an extended time, though. He had convinced me that we needed a day at the beach before we'd be away from his beloved Florida oceans.

The weather was perfect, the waves were ideal for surfing, and there weren't a million tourists out that morning, not yet anyway. I wasn't much of a surfer, because of the whole accident-prone thing, but Jake was. Well, to be specific, watching him on that large piece of bright plastic was like poetry in motion. It was like a song. How someone so large could be that graceful and practiced, on a moving surface like water, was beyond my comprehension.

We made it out in early morning because I still had a date with Alice to look through bridal magazines. I found a good spot with my beach gear, trying my best not to ogle Jake but, not doing a very good job, as he sauntered beside me with his board tucked easily underneath his arm, shorts so low I was sure they were being kept up by the grace of God, and his hair tied tightly at the back of his head in a knot.

He and I had a hard time getting much done, and actually getting out of my apartment; Jake was extra frisky this morning. I didn't know what had gotten into him, lately but, if it were even possible, we had been together almost twice more than usual, not that I was complaining.

"Okay, babe." He placed a sweet kiss on my lips, and was jogging toward the water in the next moment. You have no idea how this man looked walking away from me in that early morning. Golden brown, lean, and perfectly built and a broad back that Jesus couldn't have made better if he'd chiseled it with his own hands.

I never realized how much I loved his hair tied back like that. I thought I'd always want him with long hair, but I briefly wondered how he would look with it short, or, even say, with a buzz cut.

Oh, god. I wanted him again. I did.

By the time he came back inland, an hour or so later, dripping wet and chest heaving with exertion, I was ready to be naked with him. The next time, after he'd gotten his second wind and had returned to the water, I was an even golden brown, and pretty twitchy. I pulled my ear buds out and turned my iPod off, enjoying the view of him approaching; water glistening off of his bare chest and arms, and his board shorts allowing a peek of muscle pulling against the skin at his hips.

""You look good out there," I mused, handing him a sandwich and bottle of water.

"You look good over here..." He grinned, mischievously. I noticed his long eyelashes were wet, as well, his whole appearance managing to be both sexy and child-like, simultaneously.

"Oh?"

"Yes, looks like you got some sun." He drug his eyes over my body, his fingers playfully flicking the pages of my warn copy of Wuthering Heights.

"Yeah," I agreed, happily, wordlessly promising myself that, no matter what, I'd always live in warm climates because my ghostly natural skin just wouldn't work against his amazingly rich brown.

He inhaled the turkey and cheese I'd made, downing the bottle of water just as fast. I unwrapped another and handed it to him, silently loving the way he ate, well, pretty much anything.

His fingers were on me moments later, running along my abdomen, my thigh, my knee, and the swell of my breast.

"You're so sexy, you know that?" he whispered, looking around us and, I'm sure, trying to surmise how much he could get away with in public, without getting arrested or traumatizing any families. I looked around, as well, and, at about 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning, we were still relatively alone.

"Jake...what...?" He slid closer to me, blocking any easy view of us, and dipped his fingers into the side of my bikini bottoms. I tensed, caught off guard by his boldness and the feel of him stroking me, softly. "You are so bad, you know that?" I grinned, relaxing, and spread my legs slightly.

"Mmhmm..." he grinned, looking so sexy and naughty, and everything I loved about him.

In a few moments, he had me completely wound up, panting, and whimpering quietly . I closed my eyes, enjoying him, and the morning, and the ocean; the sea air was delicious, an aphrodisiac blowing sweetly against us. He slid a third finger inside me, and I gripped his shoulder and bit his arm to keep from moaning loudly as I came, in a sloshing puddle in his hand.

He grinned. "There we go..." he whispered, approvingly, to me. Things like that made me absolutely nuts...in a good way. He was so fucking cocky sometimes.

"Jake, what am I gonna do with you?" I breathed, trying my best to straighten my suit and look around for anyone that may have seen this craziness. He laughed.

"Well, I can think of a few things; all of them involve us laid across various pieces of furniture in my apartment." I slapped him on his arm as he chuckled more.

So bad.

He couldn't keep his hands off of me the whole walk back, even through the jumper I wore over my suit, even as he balanced his board on the left side of his body. We ran into a neighbor of ours, an elderly woman who lived across from me. The look she gave us made me break into uncontrollable giggles, and surprisingly, Jake even looked a little, I dunno, bashful. I guess the whole building knew of our extracurricular activities, not that that would ever stop us.

With a few string pulls, my bikini was on the floor, and he was pulling me on top of him. A couple of adjustments – a knee, here, widen my thighs, there – and I was riding him, Jake spread across his bed, anchoring himself to the mattress by his heels. He held my hip tightly, gripping my hair in his fist as I ground myself deeply on his cock. I steadied myself with spread fingers across his chest, rolling my hips, and taking the full length of him, which, trust me, was no small feat.

"So wet..." he mumbled, leaning up and wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. I moaned, the whole movement giving me little room for control, forcing me to wind small circles, which, unbeknownst to me, caused a fire inside me I was fully unprepared for.

"Oh...yeah, babe...that feels so good..." I moaned, rising to my knees, and then slowly sitting, again, and again, until I couldn't move an inch and he had me completely resting on his hips, fucking me until I couldn't stop myself.

"Shit...goddamnit...I'm gonna cum..." I cried into his ear, digging my fingers into his shoulders, and holding onto him tightly. Jake clamped onto my hips, guiding me back and forth, harder, pushing himself upward. All the shallow strokes, the wetness causing our bodies to roll and slide together with ease did just enough, added just enough friction, and, before long, a second orgasm shot through me just following the first.

Moments later, when I was shaking and moaning, he flipped onto my stomach, and pulled me to the edge of the bed, my feet flat on the floor.

Ohmygod.

This position was really, really deep, and as he slid into me, I couldn't help the loud moan that escaped me.

He stroked a few times, asking me if I was okay, if he was too deep, letting me know that we could stop if I wanted to, and that he knew this particular position stretched and took my body places that most didn't. I just mumbled his name and assured him, through the cotton fabric that was now bunched in my mouth, that I was okay, to keep going, that he felt so good, and that his dick was the best.

I gripped his comforter – well, the part that I wasn't biting – as he grabbed my shoulders, taking it slow with me until my pussy was okay with the beating that she was taking at the moment. Soon, I was more than ready, and gushing. His hands gripped my waist with control, and we were one fluid motion, grinding and moving with each other. His teeth came down on my back, and I came again. And, somewhere between him rubbing my clit and grabbing my hair, we came together one final time.

Good God.

He slid out of me, carefully kissing the spot he had just bitten, and I was dripping wet. He kissed me tenderly everywhere he could, and whispered all the love that made me swoon. Although I really didn't want to, I had a best friend to take care of, and he had some writing to get in before he met up with Paul at AutoZone for whatever it is they did when they got together. He kissed me deep and passionately, like he loved me and I loved him, and I think we were both a little grateful that we could still have mind-blowing sex like that after so many times.

I swatted him away when he tried to join me in the shower, because I knew there'd be very, very little showering going on if he were in there with me, and my pussy was screaming at me. A simple yellow dress and sandals, with my hair piled on my head made for my afternoon attire. Of course, Jake palmed my ass before letting me out the door with a long, deep kiss.

Alice already had just about every bridal magazine in the world spread out on her dining room table, not to mention a 'bridal book' with all her invitation options, fabric swatches, torn-out ideas for reception spaces, and anything else you could think of. Event planning just wasn't my thing, but Alice was organized, she had connections with vendors from just about everywhere, and she had this constant ball of energy that served her well whenever she planned these types of things. Truly, if she wasn't the insane marketer that she was, she definitely would have had a successful career doing just this.

"B..." She met me at the door before I got a chance to knock, took my bag, and lead me to the table. "Hungry?"

"Actually, yeah, I'm starved. I haven't had anything since this morning."

She smiled knowingly. "Hmm, I bet. Jake kept you busy today?"

I laughed at my friend. I'd swear sometimes that she was psychic. "Well, we did go to the beach today. You know I need all the sun I can get."

"I bet. The beach. That's what they're calling it now? Me and Jazz just call it fucking." She deadpanned for half a beat, then shrugged. I was a complete mess shortly thereafter, laughing almost continuously for the next couple of hours, until my stomach hurt.

She fed me leftover chicken and vegetables, and white sangria, as we planned out her wedding. And she told me how perfect her fiancé was, to which, I deeply agreed with her. Jasper was perfect, and even more perfect for her.

She showed me the two loft spaces she had decided on for the reception and asked if we could go take a look at them later that afternoon. She asked me about Jake and the trip, and made me promise that I'd bring her back a specific list of things from France, since she'd never been either. I admitted how excited and nervous I was. That Jake was just about the only thing in this whole crazy situation that I was sure of, the one thing that put me at ease.

"You think you'll stay in Jacksonville forever? I mean, you guys are getting married and everything." I said, marking up a vintage dress that would work perfectly with Alice's theme of vintage 1920s, lace and pearls.

"I dunno. We've talked about it a bunch. I mean, for now, with V-V and everything, you, then of course Jasper's family being right in Georgia, it's hard to think about wanting to leave. I really love it here."

It made me happy that Alice thought of me in her future plans. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have her around here to bug about clothes, or to bitch to about work, or about Renee's latest crazy outburst. I mean, she was my person. The person. It also scared me to think that I'd pretty much been in Florida my entire life, and when Jake offhandedly tells me about a travel to Morocco or to Haiti or Sri Lanka, I feel like I want to do that too. Like, my little corner of the earth in Florida just...didn't mean as much to me as it once did. I wanted to see the world.

Thinking about Alice's future had me thinking about my own, and, as she showed me the invitations she'd finally settled on, that just needed to be printed, I did something I tried my best never to do.

I started thinking about me and Jake, and our future. Together.

I didn't know what I wanted. I wasn't really sold on the whole idea of marriage. Charlie and Renee had been divorced since before I was old enough to know. I didn't have too many marriage role models to choose from to make me feel better about the whole thing. It just seemed so archaic, so old-fashioned. It was just a piece of paper, and what Jake and I had, when we'd only really known each other a few months, was stronger than I could really ever hope for. Why threaten to mess that all up with some legally-binding promise? One that most people don't even take seriously anyway?

"Jake's good – we both are. And, Ali, I am so fucking happy, I can't even tell you." I smiled so big my cheeks hurt, and I didn't even care. "Things are dying down for me at work, thankfully, and Jake and I are really just taking it one day at a time. We'll see where this Paris thing goes. Then, who knows?"

Alice nodded, thoughtfully, with a tiny smile, running her fingers through her hair, and planting a kiss on my cheek. "I love you two together, and you know I heart him for you. You know I'll miss you like crazy every second you're gone, right?"

"Of course. You're my Alice, and I'm your Bella. A few thousand miles, some boys and an ocean can't change that."

"Bells!"

This morning had gone to hell.

First, I left Jake's entirely too late, because we woke entirely too late, because we stayed up half the night sweating up his bed and room.

Sigh.

I ensured him, as he pushed me out of his apartment door, that he wouldn't have to come looking for me. That I could manage getting the last few things I needed to pack in my suitcase, and get myself out and waiting for him in an hour, without him having to help me.

Yeah. That wasn't going so well.

Oh God. He'd be here in a second, and I was not ready.

"Yeah, babe?" I responded weakly, looking frantically for my other earring. I couldn't leave without it; Jake had given me the simple studs weeks before and they were pretty much my favorite things on the planet to date.

"Bells, cab's here!" he yelled from the hallway. Then, before I knew it, he was in my apartment, and next my bedroom, watching me search around like an insane person. We met eyes, his black ones, frustrated, and then softening, mine brimming with moisture and near-teary.

"Bells...babe." His tone softened, and he walked toward me, arms outstretched. "What's wrong?"

"I...I can't find your earrings, the ones you gave me..." I stuttered, "I can't find the other one...I can't...I can't leave without..."

He shushed me and took me in his arms, smoothing my hair and kissing the top of my head.

"Okay, babe, let's look together. The cab can wait for a couple minutes while we find it, huh?" He placed a finger under my chin, lifting my mouth to his, and kissed me softly on the lips.

I watched this man search around my bedroom, looking under chairs and across my dresser, carefully sliding his massive hand across surfaces to find the small piece of gold and diamond that I was so fond of, and, I swear, I loved him a little more.

After exactly 3 minutes and 16 seconds, Jake found my misplaced earring nestled on top of the holes in the toe of my running sneakers, packed up both our luggage in the back of the car, with the help of the cabby, and helped me get settled in as well.

"You ready?" He looked at me with those eyes, again, pulling me toward him and tucking me under his arm.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, pressing myself closer to his warm body, and closing my eyes for the thirty-minute ride to Jacksonville International Airport.

The ride felt brief with my nap and, too quickly to realize, we were meeting with international security and having our baggage screened closely. Jake was organized and easily showed them all his paperwork, including his passport and press pass; my own process similarly mirrored his. We'd made it there just over three hours before our flight was scheduled to take off, timing ourselves for this song and dance. It was relatively painless, as Jake had prepared me for it and we were visiting a US-friendly country. Once settled at our gate, we still had over an hour until the flight would board.

"Wanna grab something to eat?" Despite my best protests, Jake insisted upon carrying both his and my carry-on luggage and, at this moment, he was bent attaching my bag to his rolling one and adjusting his sweatpants. Again, his hair was tied tightly back and away from his face, which, for some reason, I was learning turned me on like I'd never expected.

"I think I might..." I glanced down and up with a grin, "...have something to show you before the flight, but we may have to hurry."

He looked at me quizzically for half a second. Then, understanding spread across his face, and at last amusement. "But, where bells? There's security all over this place."

I thought for a couple minutes, glancing around for an appropriate place. Finally, I realized there were family restrooms on pretty much every corner. They were big enough for the both of us, and had low-traffic. He must have read my mind because he had our luggage dragging behind him before I could even make the suggestion, toting his book bag on his free shoulder and opening the door to the nearest one. I double checked that we'd gone unnoticed before closing and locking the door behind us. Luckily and to my surprise and delight, the room was spotless. Jake wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me to him.

"We gotta make this quick, Bells," he said, attempting to pull my yoga pants down and off my body. I stopped him, pressing the full length of my body against his and whispering against his lips.

"I said I have something to show you. We can do that in a second." He grinned even larger, waiting, I'm sure, for me to reveal what this thing I needed to show him so badly was.

I covered his lips with mine, taking my time, running my tongue along his, and placing small pecks across his full mouth. His lips felt so soft and warm pressed against mine, if we didn't have to get on that plane, I'd do this for the rest of the day and night. We stayed there for a few long moments, enjoying each other, like it was our first time. He ran his hands over my body, pressing his palms against my nipples, and kissing along my neck. My hands were quick, untying his drawstring sweats and pulling them down just enough to release his stiffening cock.

I purred approvingly, squatting down, and placing my palms on either thigh. Then, taking him hands-free into my mouth as deeply as I could, I slid to the tip.

"Ah...shit..." he hissed, urging me on. I was confident, a fact that I'm sure helped me do this the way I knew he liked it. I'd loved him this way countless times and, even with his stamina, I could make him cum. Fast.

I took my time, savoring the sounds of his groans and the feel of him softly pushing his hips against my mouth, his entire body flexing and coiling against me. I sucked the tip, then fisted him with both hands, just hard enough to make it feel good, to make it feel like my throat was deeper, and tighter, and wetter. I loved the feel of him in my mouth, the way he was so thick my lips would curl over when I pulled away from him, and the way I had to relax because my Jake was excited and tended to treat my mouth like my pussy, and go a little too deep.

His body tensed, and he tightened his fingers against my shoulder, but I was sure he was just being his polite self and not grabbing the back of my head like he wanted to at this moment. I licked and sucked the tip, again, just hard enough, then throated him once more. I followed his rhythm, riding out his orgasm with him, until he was cumming, and I tasted him. A taste that was better than anyone I could think of in the moment, or in moments like this. I tasted it on his skin, and in his mouth. I tasted it strong and briny on his damp from sweat chest, or along his hip. I loved it.

It was success.

His chest was heaving with pleasure and euphoria and I cradled his cock in my mouth, careful not to touch too much because I knew he was really sensitive right now. I held him there, gently licking the underside and placing small kisses there, until his breathing slowed.

By the time I stood, my knees were a little sore, but I forgot it all when I saw the look on his face. A look of pleasure and satisfaction, and... love. He grinned at me through heavy-lidded eyes, tucking himself back into his pants.

"Oh...that. Yeah, that was great..." he forced out, hoarsely. "I think I have something like that for you."

I grinned in response, allowing him to pin me to the bathroom wall.

He glanced at his wrist watch, catching my top lip between his teeth. "Here let me show you."

=================

A/N - Hope you liked! Next stop, gay Payree! (I don't care if I spelled that right.)

Thanks to my beta, and new fic-wife (yes, I finally made an honest woman out of her) Kay Cannon, without whom, you'd probably never get an update from me. She's a slave-driver o.O

Also, a shout to my bb, Little Furry Cannibals, an awesome writer and co-co-co-manager on my naughty little C2 here on FFn, Pack Play: The Best In Wolfpack Lemons. I personally suggest you hopping on over when you get a chance, if you're looking for a dirty little story starring your favorite wolfpack member. Don't forget to search the M-rated fics. (http)(:)/(www).fanfiction.(net)/community/Pack_Play_The_Best_In_Wolfpack_Lemons/75509/

Okay, that's it for now, and yes, SPOILER ALERT: there WILL be sex on a plane in the next chapter. I'm personally looking forward to it; KennedyMommy, are you?

The Neighbor Chapter 10 Teaser

2010-12-12T12:05:00.000-08:00

I glanced at the clock. Alice and Jasper would meet us here in just twenty minutes. Mike’s house was closer to our apartment building - just a short few blocks away, an easy walk in the warm early evening. Jake ran his hands along the front of my shorts, my pussy aching for his thick fingers to roughly rub until I was excited beyond all comprehension.

I ran my hands along the smooth skin of his shoulders and chest, trying to touch him everywhere quickly. None of it was enough- it never was, really. I felt greedy and deprived. He bent down, ground his swollen dick along the front of my shorts, and really, there wasnt much fabric keeping us from what I could tell we both really needed.

The rap on the door was abrupt. Enough to make both of us jump a little.

It reverberated up my spine, to my skull, over my nipples and down to my damp pussy being dryhumped into submission by my insanely sexy boyfriend.

“Fuck.” Jake breathed against my mouth. “What the fuck...”

“Shit, shit, shit.” I whined, unwrapping my calf from around his thigh. “Ali and Jazz...”

“Of all the fucking times they could be on time, they choose fucking now.” He continued to mutter under his breath, straightening his solid cock in the shorts he wore under his costume. As Jake answered the door, all I could think of was the painful clenching that was my pussy’s protest.

The Neighbor - Chapter 9 - Paris Nights

2010-12-01T07:45:00.000-08:00

Chapter 9: Paris Nights

I drank too much wine that night.

My body hadn't reached the 'hold my hair over a toilet' phase by a mile, but I was tipsy. That much was certain.

"You're drunk, Bells." Jacob's grin was toothy, and amused and mocking.

"I am not drunk."

He grinned wider, downing the last of the deep mahogany liquid in his over-sized wine glass, reaching for the bottle and filling his glass again, pouring more for me as well. His bicep flexed with the movement, and I allowed my eyes to roam unabashedly across the table at the man who had become my best friend (next to Alice of course), the person with whom I was deeply and passionately in love with.

I was fucking horny.

"What I was saying, before you started mumbling and hiccuping and shit, was that Billy's doing great. He asked about you, again, of course."

I darted my tongue between my blush-stained lips, mockingly. I was not drunk, just a little tipsy.

There was a difference.

"You two talk way too much for my liking…" He grumbled with that perfect grin. "What do you two talk about, anyway?"

The thought of his father made me smile, as did the way Jake's skin glowed against the flickering candle serving as our only light for dinner. The dozen or so lights that mirrored our own lit a path to the door leading to the inside of the restaurant. The air was still that night, the street still bustling with Parisian downtown nightlife.

"That's none of your business. Billy and I have a special relationship." We did. I saw so much of Jake in his father – his stubbornness, his wry sense of humor, his unending determination, his charm. Over the months, I'd found myself emailing or calling Billy almost as much as I did Renee. Neither of them were what you'd call traditional parents, but, what they lacked in that area, they both made up for in spades with a deep wisdom that only really came from living life without apology, without regret.

"'Special relationship'" He scoffed, and I giggled, sipping more wine.

"I want to cook for Billy, make him something good when we visit over the holidays. I need to call him, soon."

He cocked his head at an unexpectedly sexy angle and licked his lips. "When are you going to cook for me, again, Ms. Swan? Seems like I'm the one filling that order these days."

"Jake, really. We're in Paris and have a tiny little stove. Shit, a bottle of Pinot is cheaper than food or water. Let's say I'll get back to my happy homemaker duties once we're back in the states, hmm?" He chuckled, as did I. We were easy that warm night. We were easy like we always were, and I was happy.

…Happy, and tipsy, and very, very horny.

"You think it'll always be like this?"

"Like?"

"Us, this—" I pointed between us, with the same hand that gripped the smooth glass. "We're disgustingly happy. I mean, you think this is honeymoon, or like..."

Jake shook his head, thoughtfully. "Naw, Bells, this is real. I really am happy, like deep-down happy. The kind of shit that I'm embarrassed to admit and that Em makes fun of me for."

I smiled at the thought of his best friend, and at his words. Layer by layer, I was getting Jake to open up; to admit things about our relationship, about his feelings that I was sure he wasn't used to admitting.

I wanted to follow up, quip my own little view on our relationship. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't imagine my life before him. Like, literally, I couldn't remember how things were before he'd stumbled into my world that day. I could barely remember where I'd come from moments before or where I'd planned on going moments later. All I could remember was him. He was in me, set in and unmoving in a way that comforted me like nothing else ever had, beyond the love of my family and closest friends.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, holding it there for a few seconds with his teeth, and let his eyes wander across my body, lingering at the swell of cleavage peeking above my tank top. "You look good tonight, Bells...really good."

I ran my fingers through my hair, sipped my wine, and took another bite of pasta. He looked good too, beyond good, really. His dark hair was messy in a very deliberate way, his shirt and jeans fitting against his body effortlessly.

We needed to get back to the hotel.

"Thanks…"

He ate the last of his linguine, and took a sip of water, with a small, knowing smile. Then he finished of his wine, straightened his body from his relaxed posture and leaned in closer to me, black eyes lingering at my lips. I knew too, of course. I knew what we both wanted and needed at the moment, and for me, one of them was for Jake to cut off my alcohol consumption before I stripped off my clothing and straddled him in that little metal chair.

"You done?"

I wasn't. I kinda wanted dessert, but all I could feel was the warming effects of wine doing things to my body, and my boyfriend would most certainly be the target that night. I nodded, grabbing my bag, preparing for our departure.

Jake plunked down his Amex, knee bouncing impatiently; neither of us could stand the three minutes it took the waiter to return with his receipt to sign. I was already standing, as Jake mindlessly returned his wallet to his pocket, ushering me toward the sidewalk, beginning our four-block walk back to the hotel.

His fingers lingered at the curve in my lower back, pulling me closer to him until I was tightly wedged at his side. I wrapped my arm around him, as well, and tried my best to keep up, all the while thinking of ways to speed our pace. My thighs rubbed together with each of my strides, tiny thong against my body, making me acutely aware of its presence, and my need for him. My whole body had been on edge since this morning when he'd left me working on my computer, dress shirt fitted perfectly to his body, and slacks that made me want to do all sorts of things that I was sure were illegal in most states.

"Jake."

"Yeah Bells?" he said absently, just trying to get us where we were going. I tried to steer him toward one of the many quiet little alleys between the buildings, just for a few moments. Then we could be on our way. "What...what are you doing?"

My heels clicked as I tugged him into a deep hallway. No one was around. No one would know.

He glanced around and upward, making sure that we weren't about to make a peep-show for some French college kids, or something of the like. I mean, it wasn't like we were in the red-light district; something like two people having dirty public sex wasn't bound to go over very well, even in Europe. Despite this, the fact that Jake was following me, however hesitantly made me even less concerned than I already was. Per-usual, the wine had my inhibitions missing in action.

I backed him against an ancient-looking wooden door, his hands all over my body with familiarity and lust. My lips were on his throat, softly at first, but affirming what I was thinking. I grabbed his wrists, placing his hands on my ass, pulling away from him for only a moment. And, of course, he stood there, gaping at me like I was insane. His body belied his expression, though. He was more than ready for me, hands roaming and squeezing, his cock steel against denim.

"You're crazy..." He pushed my second-skin skirt up my thighs, just enough for him to do what he needed to do without giving the world a show – not that there was a soul there to pass judgment. Heart hammering against my ribcage, I felt his fingers roughly push my panties aside, and sink upwards and into me.

"I'm gonna make you cum, here. Then I'm gonna fuck you when we get back...you're so wet babe. Did I do this to you?" His warm mouth ecstasy against my ear, and his body like heaven, pressed against my hot skin.

I nodded as he took my parted lips with his, bit them, sucked them. I whimpered, feeling every ridge, every curve of his fingers slide in and out of me, making it almost impossible to think straight, coupled with the wine sloshing around my system.

"Oh...fuck..." That moan took over me, escaped and, for a second, I thought I should suppress it, but thought better of it. There was no one there – no prying eyes, only an incredibly sexy, digitally talented Jacob Black.

"Did you just cum that quickly, Bells?" I giggled my affirmation, pulling him closer to me, covering his lips with mine.

"Fuck me here...I want you right now...Jake, please..." I breathed, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Bella, babe..." he protested, but only until I had his cock firmly in my hand, after which his entire body became as rigid as a board against me.

Shit he was sexy as sin. I just needed a little bit, just enough to get me off until we made it back to the room. My one-mindedness overtook all logic; I just needed him inside of me, making me feel those things that were so clear, yet just a memory from the day before. I was long overdue.

"C'mere..." he mumbled, bending his knees slightly, taking his cock in his fist and parting my glistening-wet pussy lips.

"Oh shit...oh shit..." I moaned, again, as he ground into me, filling me.

He chucked, disbelievingly. "Can't believe you have me fucking you here..."

He gripped my ass, pulled my body toward his over, and over, helping me balance on my wedge heels. He tugged my top down enough to expose my nipples to the warm night, sucking and licking each of them as he fucked me.

"Jake...baby..." I was gonna cum, again.

I felt the tiny contractions holding his dick inside me for a mini-second, then releasing him. I ground my hips against his, as he roughly thrust himself further, biting and licking at my neck. My fingers gripped his hair at the scalp as my orgasm ripped through my body. Toes curling, eyes rolling-back, pleasure took over me, as he continued his assault on my body against that hallway door.

Once I'd caught my breath, he kissed me tenderly and pulled my shirt up and my skirt down. Of course I noticed that he was still solid, and long, and thick.

"We can finish...let's get out of here..." he murmured, tucking himself back into his pants.

Jake took his time once we were back at the Chambiges Elysées, with doors locked and lights turned down Just the night spilled in through the windows, despite the fire that propelled us moments before.

He crept behind me, pushed my hair over my shoulder, and placed simple, slow kisses along the back of my neck and shoulder blades. A shiver went through me, the sensation delicious as he smoothed his hands across my breasts, softly biting across my back. He cupped them, running his fingers over my stiff nipples beneath my thin top.

Jake's palms eased down my ribcage achingly slowly, as he stepped a little closer to me, until I could feel his dick against the small of my back. He kissed my neck, ran his hands over my hips, sliding my skirt to the floor, and pulling my tank over my head. I felt his warm chest against my back moments later, felt his body hard, smooth, and ready.

I was so wet, so excited, still. And in the next moment, I was kneeling, chest down against the mattress with him gripping my waist, fucking me from behind.

"Ah Bella..."

I gripped the sheets tightly, bit my lip until it was raw, and fucked him back until it hurt so good and I was dripping on the downy hotel bed. My hair was a puddled mass above my bowed head, spilling over my shoulders, with my face grimacing and mouth whimpering for mercy and more. I loved it when he rode me, loved it when he pressed his thick fingers into my hips and roughly drove into me. I loved it almost more than those lazy Sunday mornings that rolled into late afternoons where we made love slowly and languidly. Those times when he laved my body with his tongue and told me how beautiful I was, how much he loved me, and how delicious I tasted.

Almost.

"Oh god..." I sighed, just before he pulled out and lay down beside me, raising me above him, bringing each of my legs over either side of his body. I straddled him, placing eager palms on his soft but hard chest, getting my balance on his huge cock – one that I'd grown quite acquainted with, but that still took some getting used to, even then.

He let me know how good I felt, as I slid wetly up and down his cock. I rode him, rolling my hips, breasts tilted upward and back arched, moaning his name.

"I love you," I whispered, grinding deeper, as he gripped my hair and licked my nipples.

"I love you, Isabella."

The wine was a memory, just enough to keep me wet, by the time he placed my calves on his shoulders. I was sober, and I'd come more times than I could've kept count of. He was so deep inside me, rubbing his thumb across my clit, and murmuring to me. We were the only two people on the planet. I felt so completely close to him in that moment, and moments like it.

His body on mine made me feel tiny in comparison, in that way that I loved. So, when he took the soft piece of flesh along the curve of my neck between his teeth, with his chest pressed against mine, and our skin and sweat fused together by our body heat, I cried out. Mostly because I was cumming again, my pussy wrapping around him over, and over, his rhythm slowing from fast and wild and shallow, to deep and pulsating.

He fell asleep on my chest, his comfortably heavy body resting between my legs, our bodies still joined.

I felt him slide out of me, leaving the warmth of our bed, after I'd I passed out for what I saw was about three hours after glancing at the side table clock. He was writing; I was sure of it. I wrapped the crumpled sheet around me, finger-combed the bird's nest that had become my hair from the past five hours, and padded to where he was on the couch in the living area.

He pulled his earphone out of one ear. "Hey good-lookin."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Nah, my brain's all over the place with this next chapter. I was thinking of adding another piece to it, this legend that Billy was telling me about. Thought I'd write more of chapter nine."

I nodded, heading to the fridge for a coke. I handed him a can, and curled up to him as he typed. It was just after 3 A.M. and I was happy to quietly keep him company.

"...It's about vampires and werewolves, if you can believe it."

"What?"

"The legend. It's about vampires and werewolves, and how the wolves protect the reservation around La Push and the city of Forks, not too far from there."

"From the vampires?" I smiled, partially thinking of these big bear-wolf creatures attacking Brad Pitt's character from Interview with a Vampire.

"Yeah, it's crazy, right?"

"Sounds pretty Underworld, actually – cool though. Ever thought of writing a screenplay for that thing?"

He smiled, leaning into me and kissing me softly against my lips, jaw, and neck. "Right, but this legend's been since around before Underworld was Underworld."

"I bet."

His writing process would be insane to anyone who'd never seen it before. He'd slouch down, nearly prone on his back, with his laptop on his stomach, eyebrows pinned, mouth frowning. That, or he'd have his computer resting on the coffee table in front of him with his large frame hunched over in concentration. Every few moments, he'd space out and get this far-away look, or close his eyes, and he always needed music by that point. He could never really write without those earbuds.

I sat beside him as he tapped away on the keys, folded my legs under me, wrapped the sheets tighter around my naked body, and blinked a long blink...

"Bells…Bells, babe?" his voice was far away, just a whisper, and then I was in his arms, with my fingers linked at his neck. He placed my sheet-swaddled body on the featherbed, and my eyes opened just enough to watch him step out of the sweatpants he was wearing; enough to watch his sturdy, sinewy thighs strain with his movements; just enough to make me want him again.

I turned to him, pulled him closer to me, threw my leg over his hip, and pressed my eager lips against his warm and soft mouth.

He mounted me, spread my thighs, ran his palms along my legs. "Insatiable."

----------

So many of the conversations with my job were made through email over lapses due to differences in time zones, but once a week I Skyped with Victoria, as well as with my clients. The launch of one of their biggest products was approaching and, save for a few last-minute line items, I was handling things pretty nicely.

Mostly, though, I missed Ally. I wondered what she was doing, and how she was making out with the plans for the wedding. It was only three months away – a winter wedding. She'd been closely updating her plans according to what the Farmer's Almanac had claimed the weather in Atlanta would be. Chilly, for a southern winter, in the thirties, and an icy but clear day.

"You have to see the bouquets the bridesmaids have. They are insane. We'll have the best ones, MOH, but still, theirs are pretty epic too."

Her excitement was contagious, and soon, I was looking as forward to her plans as she was. It looked liked she'd dyed her hair a crazy shade of orange, just a streak across the front to replace the blue, but I had to admit, it was pretty badass.

"Soooo, how's that boy of yours?"

"He's great. Writing up a storm to make these deadlines for his publisher before January. I've read a bunch of the book, and Als, it's fucking awesome. He's such a good writer."

"Mmhmm, mhmmm." She paused. "How's Paris? You'd just gotten there when we talked last; how are things there? I hear it's gorgeous this time of year. I need to get Jas to take us out there. He's a country boy, though; hates leaving, and you can all but forget about getting him on a plane for that long, you know?"

A laugh bubbled up. "Things are so much better than I could have expected. I mean, really, he's beyond perfect, and so is the city.

"Fucking all over the place I'm sure, Did you bring enough lube?"

"Als, really?

"What?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes at her coy smile and green eyes beaming through my laptop screen. "I met his friend Rose…"

"Friend, huh?"

"Yeah, he's known her forever. They grew up in Washington together"

I mean, Rose was striking.

I know it sounds corny, or lame or whatever, but really, Rose was the type of woman that you just had to, you know, stare at for a while, just to make sure she was real or, from some morbid, deprecating curiosity, wait around to find some kind of imperfection in her.

"Black!" Jake and I approached her leggy frame, leaning absently against the classically designed marble building, and running her thumbs along her smartphone. She seemed genuinely excited to see us – well, Jake and by association me, I assumed. She gave him a friendly hug, commenting on his hair and how he was getting skinny.

"Look at you; you're wasting away. Shit, Black, eat something..."

"Rosie, seriously," he said, grinning, running his hand across his perfectly lean, muscular stomach, and nudging his friend, "you know, I eats."

She laughed, throwing her natural blond hair (because really, you can't get that kind of perfection from a salon) over her shoulder with a dimpled grin. "That I do."

They were sharing an inside joke that I obviously wasn't privy to and, after a short second, Jake pushed me forward.

"This is Bella," he introduced, proudly. "Bells, this is Rosalie...you can just call her Rosie."

"Black, please don't make me commit murder on this fine Parisian street ," she replied icily, with humor tinged just at the edges of her harmonic voice.

"Rose." She smiled.

I ran my hands through my hair self-consciously and stepped closer to her, pulling at the straps on my tank. She pulled me into a hug, and really, I bounced between turning completely lesbian and running away screaming from her out of fear.

Her clear blue eyes were round and large, perfect. Her face was, well, perfect too. No, really, like perfectly symmetrical, and probably what one would draw or describe if they were thinking of someone classically beautiful.

She made me nervous.

Jake placed a warm palm at the center of my back, as I backed away from his gorgeous long-time friend. He nodded, probably sensing my hesitation. There was just something – well, besides the whole perfection thing – that made me really self-conscious, and really intimidated. It was already hard not to feel a little small standing next to the glamazon and giant, without her lingering gaze at my shoes, hair, clothes, purse, Jake next to me, making me shift even more.

She was sizing me up.

She scanned me, her smile still warm(ish) and (kinda) inviting. She wore simple khakis rolled at the ankle, a white tank and nude ballet flats, but she looked like money – well, money and a supermodel. Her layered blond hair framed her square jaw, then was pushed back and held in place by her pricey-looking aviator sunglasses.

Effortless.

"Rosie, cool it will ya?" Jake smiled, nudging her, then turned to me and pressed his lips to my ear. "She's harmless; you'll like her. I promise."

I giggled, nervously. I mean, really, I was being silly. We'd be spending the day together, so I really needed to get over my jitters; that and our towering height difference.

"Okay, you two. Play nice. I gotta get over to the embassy." Jake smoothed a hand over his hair, and straightened his collared shirt. Rose looped an arm through mine, as Jake hailed a cap, winked at me, then ducked his large frame into the comparatively smaller black car.

Half a beat passed and I could feel Rose's eyes on me.

"So."

"So," I parroted, noticing the simple but, again, perfect pale pink nail polish on her toes.

"You into music at all?"

"Yeah..." What was she getting at?

"Well, a friend of mine is playing at a festival. You game?" She grinned at me, and I grinned right back.

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

------------

Jacob pulled me into a quick embrace, his fingers rubbing circles on my lower back as I looked in each of the store windows lit up for evening, housing a mannequin here or a Swarovski-crystallized clutch there.

The day had been so busy and my feet were verging on achy, but I was with Jake, and neither of us were working or writing, or whatever that day. So, I was a champ and never complained, even after we walked along the cobble-stoned Paris streets. Just the two of us – well, me – doing the tourist thing. I was pretty sure he'd seen everything there was to see in that city.

The Champs Elysees, not far from the hotel, and the Arc deTriomphe were all breathtaking, though much better from a distance. He'd taken me all the back ways, through the side streets that were the heart of Parisian architecture and ancient in a way that, being from America, I'd never really seen up close.

We'd made it to the Eiffel Tower, of course. I'd taken more pictures than I could count, making him stand next to the world-famous structure, towering over it by comparison through my lens. We'd ended the day, though, at one end of the Concord Place, and my Jake with all his patience, allowed me to salivate over the clothes, and shoes, and bags and other things I'm sure he had no interest in.

"So...you never really told me how your day with Rose went. I saw the bags in the room but, yeah, I'm gonna need more of a play-by-play than that."

Rose.

"So, you and Jake. How long's it been now for you two?"

"Just about six months, now."

"And you get the trip to Paris...you must have put it on him pretty good, girl."

Naturally , my face was an unflattering shade of red. What was I supposed to say to that?

"Jake and I have fun." I grinned, trying my best to give her enough that she wouldn't get the same brilliant reaction from my skin, twice.

"Okay, okay, you win." She chuckled, every syllable rounded with a melodic French and northwest American accent. Her hair blew in the gentle breeze as she pulled another blade of grass from the ground beneath us and twirled it around her slender fingers. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "You know, I've known Jake almost as long as I've known myself. I was there when he was awkward and dorky, and couldn't get a girl to like him to save his life."

"You're kidding. Jake? Awkward?" Her blue eyes stared squarely at me for a few seconds, her mouth twitching with mischief.

"Oh, you have no idea…Jake was a brain in school, absolutely no luck with the girls. But, he thought he was so, so cool. He was thin as a rail; all arms and legs, you know?" She had my complete attention. I needed to know all of this. All of it. "Then, one day, we went away for the summer – I think it was around sophomore or junior year – and he just grew like six inches, filled out, in what seemed like overnight. All the girls were after him, after that."

"You and him…were you close back then?"

"Oh no – not like that, Bella. He and I are like family. We were close. My family knew Billy and Jake's mom before she passed, but that was it." She chuckled, again, clearly remembering some memory I was too afraid to ask about.

"Obviously, I had more in common with his twin sisters than I had with him, but, still, Jake was one of my best friends. I've been around the world a few times, done a bunch of things and met a lot of people, but I'll tell you this: Jake's one of the best people I know."

"He really is great."

"He is. You hold on to that one, girl. He's one in a million."

Later, when she dropped me off back at our hotel, after Jake had met us at the front just beside the bellman, she mussed his hair, turned back to me, and then whispered something to him.

"We'll all go to lunch soon, Je ne prendrai pas le non pour une réponse. Comportez-vous vous deux!"

Jake laughed and waived to her as she hailed one of the passing cabs, turned to wink at me one last time, and blew us a kiss.

"Oh, you know us girls. Just shopping, sight-seeing, you know."

Offhandedly, I thought of Rosalie: of her beauty, and how I was sure she'd left a trail of broken hearts – both male and female – in her wake. I thought of her perfect lips and her abrasive personality and, I had to say, I really liked the girl, and, in a different life or a different time, I could see maybe having a crush on her.

Wow, I'm coming to all kind of revelations in this city. Jeez.

"Knowing Rosie, I'm sure it was no good. At least she got you back to me in one piece."

As we strolled along that busy square, surrounded by tourists, and students and lovers, I once more since we'd arrived, weeks prior, realized how much I could live there; how France was just enough culture, and history and modernism all rolled together, that I couldn't mind being there long-term. I loved the area and kinda liked to think of myself as a Parisian at heart, after completely falling in love with the city.

I mean, Jake and I are both pretty low-maintenance, and, although he claims I have burgeoning shopping problem – something that I wholly and vehemently disagree with – I'd rather sit on the couch with him with a glass of wine, and eat in than go to some upscale restaurant. Jake had lived and continued to live this sexy, sickeningly worldly, amazing life; one that I couldn't help but be drawn to.

I also realized, not much later, that Jake was being a touch...coy when he told me he knew a 'little' French. 'Just enough to get me by,' he'd said.

Complete bullshit.

"Savez-vous où le souterrain est? Nous savons que nous sommes étroits, mais, we' ; au sujet de a perdu. nous sommes juste visite re."

What?

I'd made out something about either a goldfish or a train. The obvious tourist couple approached us like we were French, like we knew what the hell we were talking about.

Should have studied that Rosetta Stone a little longer.

"Aucun problème! Juste autour du coin et avalent le bloc. Vous verrez la station vers votre gauche, vous ne pouvez pas la manquer," Jake rattled off, easily. I didn't understand a word, but it sounded really, really good.

The couple looked appeased, happy and thankful, walking away from us arm-in-arm. I turned to him like he'd grown another eyeball.

"What?" He smiled

"A little French."

He laughed and wrapped his arm tighter around me. "What? I do..."

"Mmhmm..."

"You hungry yet?" he asked, completely changing the subject and pulling me closer to his side. I nodded and wrapped my arms around his waist, tugging at the back of his shirt, pulling him ever closer to me, until my cheek was buried between his breastbone, and I was smelling clove, and citrus, and my Jacob.

My heart was so full in that moment; I couldn't remember a happier time with him. We were so perfect together that it was worrying at times. Like, in the back of my mind, I'd always really expected the other shoe to drop, but it never, ever did. Jake gave me so much more than I ever really knew I wanted. I didn't want to cry, so I refused to look up into that beautiful face, for fear I'd shatter into a million pieces of happiness.

I swallowed. Thickly. "Let's–let's get something. I think I'm in the mood for seafood." I quickly wiped a tear away, admonishing myself for the sniffing idiot I was being. Maybe all these churning emotions were just PMS or something.

"Yeah, let's get you something to eat, huh?" He tilted my head upward, placing a simple, sweet kiss on my lips, and I fell deeper still for him. Like, I couldn't breathe if I wasn't with him. Like he was my shelter from every storm, and like if we were together, I could do or be, and handle anything. The one person in my life that made me feel comfortable and unjudged, well, besides Alice.

"C'mon, Bells." He grinned at me, placing kisses on my cheeks and forehead. "I know...I love you, too."

Of course he knew. He knew me; the real me. Not the expensive shoes wearing, advertising girl, but the perpetually late, clumsy, silly, tipsy, nympho real me, and he still loved me in spite of all those things. You can't buy that kind of devotion.

I was being silly and sentimental, and I knew it. I blame all the twinkling lights, and Eiffel Tower and shit.

We strolled through the streets for a few more minutes, just talking and enjoying the perfect weather, until we came upon a little restaurant, much like many of the one's we'd eaten at over the course of the weeks we'd been in Paris. As we took our seats outside on a tiny little table, I remembered that he'd told me about this one on more than one occasion, and how we just had to come here because I'd love the seafood and wine.

That night was another of the few that we'd eaten by candlelight. We both thought it kinda of silly and pretentious, but, in the moonlight and perfect weather of downtown Paris, it was...romantic.

Wonderfully, beautifully, romantic.

I peeked at him from across the small table we'd secured outside Par L'eau, attempting to read the menu. As I watched his deep brown eyes flare and glow in the tiny flame, I knew, more than I'd ever known before that moment, so strongly that it became a part of me, that Jake was the one for me, and that I wanted him forever.

...

Jake stowed our leftovers in the refrigerator, as I undressed and showered. The day had been so long, but in a good way. I dug in the myriad of bags from my shopping with Rose to find one of the sexy lacy things that she'd convinced me to buy, and that he hadn't seen yet.

She really was a great girl, and I could clearly understand, even outside the amount of time they'd known each other, why they were good friends. Her disposition was a little rough, and god she sure did say the first thing that was on her mind, but I got used to it pretty fast. She didn't offend me too many times, and even in those times, I'd blame on being around the French too long.

I heard Jake in the bedroom and the sigh of his weight against the mattress, just as I turned the water stream down and off. I tried to make quick work of towel-drying my hair and slipping into the satiny-lacy stretch fabric that wrapped around me, hugging everything that needed hugging and pushing my breasts upward. He was gonna die.

"Jake?"

"Yeah, babe?"

His eyes changed focus, from his computer to where I stood in the doorway, in a little expensive piece of fabric that could hardly be considered clothing for its price and size.

"Bells…" I smiled as his eyes drank me in, first moving quickly to make sure no angles were missed, then fixating on certain very important areas."Turn around."

I obliged.

"I'll have to thank Rose for that."

I wiggled my hips, bending over just enough to show him that I was wearing the smallest g-string ever created in the history of lingerie. "I'll take that as a job well-done?"

"Definitely."

I sauntered over to him, pulling the covers back. "You gonna show me how much you like it?"

He nodded. "Why don't you tell me how you want it?"

So many choices, but, then again, we had all night.

"I wanna be on top."

"As usual." I slid my hands into the waistband of his pajamas, tugging them down just enough. His hands roamed up my thighs until they met the strings of my brand new, barely there panties, and, instead of sliding them down, he simply pushed them aside.

"Keep this on. Keep all this on."

"Wait..."

I leaned down in an ungodly flexible position and took him into my mouth for a few seconds, before sliding him out with a pop.

"Just to wet it a little," I said with a grin.

"Of course."

I straddled him and slid down until my ass was flush with his thighs and he was so deep I could barely think straight enough to move.

"God Jake..." I moaned, my mouth against his, sucking on his tongue. "Your dick..."

He slid his hands up my hips, gripping my satin-covered back, pulling at the straps on my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him completely into me, and I fell. I fell hard and faster and further into him.

"Take it off."

I pulled the hemline over my head, tiny g-string still cutting into my moving hips, and his fingers pressing against my clit as I pushed harder and deeper onto his cock. Our eyes met, kept each other locked. Our bodies kissed, and slid, and rolled and gyrated, but our eyes stayed trained on each other, and we came together; him deep inside me, me wrapped around him with my body folded around his, and we were one.

---------------

A/N- Hoped you enjoyed more of Paris, I know I did!

Thanks so much for reading, I love you guys.

- A big thanks goes out to my betafish, Kay Cannon, who is awesome and amazing. She actually recently wrote a Blackwater one-shot that I heart called Art Affairs, so go check her out, she's a great writer.

- In case you haven't visited yet, we started a great Wolfpack fic-focused site called Phase Fics. If you're looking for recs to some of the best fics around starring the Wolfpack, you'll definitely find it there. www(dot)phasefics(dot)com.

- For teases, updates, and general fuckery, you can follow me on Twitter - artbeatsandlife

- NOTE: I do NOT speak French, and haven't been to Paris since I was very, very young, so forgive any inaccuracies. All the French in this chapter was commandeered thanks to Babelfish, so, blame them, not me *passes buck*

Chapter 9 French Phrases:

Je ne prendrai pas le non pour une réponse. Comportez-vous vous deux! – I won't take no for an answer. Behave yourselves, you two!

Savez-vous où le souterrain est? Nous savons que nous sommes étroits, mais, we' ; au sujet de a perdu. Nous sommes juste visite re. – Do you know where the train station is? We're just visiting.

Aucun problème! Juste autour du coin et avalent le bloc. Vous verrez la station vers votre gauche, vous ne pouvez pas la manquer. – No problem! The station is just around the block to your left.

Okay, I think that's it for now. Until next time…

TEASER: Stealing Forever - Chapter 8

2010-07-22T08:14:00.000-07:00

Something passed between the two, sitting in that too-loud bar in Cincinnati. Somewhere between the proceeding shots of golden liquid and the dimly-lit dank bathroom, they came to an understanding. They each would get what they needed, and there would be no discussion of it.

Bartender tried her best to keep her balance as Jake pressed himself into her again, and again, her bare back rubbing against the scratchy, graffitti and god-knows-what-covered bathroom wall. The heel of her boot on the edge of the toilet did little to help, as she jerked violently toward and away from him. Jake was fully with her, in that men’s bathroom that smelled of urine and stale liquor. What he wasnt, was thinking about the pain, and for that, he was grateful.

The Neighbor - Chapter 3 Weekend Outtake

2010-03-25T14:41:00.000-07:00

For those who want a little more insight into THAT weekend with Bella and Jake. You know - the one where they barely left Jacob's bed for 3 days straight? Yeah. That one. Here's a quick little outtake written for my dear friend and beta, Kay Cannon's birthday:

Him, lying there, his sienna skin dewy from the work of the last hour was...amazing.
I wanted to take a break, to give my body some time to relax, but everything in me told me to stay and watch the rise and fall of his chest.
Rhythmic.
Sure.
He was so beautiful.
I wanted so much more of him, I wanted him inside me again, and it had barely been thirty minutes.
Jacob had drifted off, and god, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't blame him.
This was insane.
We were insane.
We had to stop at some point.
We had to breathe at some point.
But, I didn't want to.

For the last 16 hours, if we were awake, we were coupled.

The rain wouldn’t let up, which, for some reason, I couldn’t help being comforted by. As long as the rain fell, it reminded me of our time together.

Of this weekend.

I would always remember this weekend as one of rain and passion.

I watched him, waiting for his eyes to re-open, but, after several moments, I realized he had earned his rest.

Padding to his bathroom, I caught sight of myself, which, rightly startled me, but, then, I welcomed it.

Hair amiss.

Face bright red.

Light bite marks and bruises on the pale skin of my neck and breast.

Skin covered in a light sheen of sweat that matched the beautiful man lying in bed.

I searched for one of his ice-white towels and started the hot shower, the firm spray a welcome patter against my body.

The lather spread over my body, I was so deep in thought, remembering the last orgasm he'd exorcised from my body. It was the strongest of the night, and I it scared the shit out of me. That level of pleasure and release and clenching just...

I didn’t know if I could handle it.

My body shook violently, and he cooed and whispered to me, pulling me further, longer, holding my hips steady as he drove into me rhythmically.

I lathered shampoo through my hair, thankful that he'd been thoughtful enough to buy my favorite brand, turning the dial just a little hotter, and the feel of the streams of water massaging my scalp felt orgasmic. I closed my eyes, and just felt...

...arms circling my waist.

Warm arms - even in the scalding shower - pressing my body closer to his.

I couldn't suppress the moan that escaped my lips.

A roll of bass rumbled in his chest as his palm spread across my abdomen, the other, sliding over my neck, tilting my head for better access for his lips. He kissed a path to the nape of my neck, tossing my long hair over my shoulder.

He was here.

He was pressing himself into my lower back, thick and solid.

My body was already responding, already alive and raw with sensation.

I wanted him inside me.

I was tender and ragged and had had enough of him to last a lifetime, but I wanted him again.

I wanted to feel his skin under my fingertips.

I wanted to taste him again.

His body wash and cloth where in my hands in the next moment, and I was lathering circles, rubbing slowly, lovingly, against his body and he moaned.

It was small, but it was there, and his heavy-lidded gaze darkened.

"Bella...." he murmured, bending to press his full lips against mine, and I melted into him.

He pressed my back against the shower wall gracefully, gripping my thigh and lifting my foot onto the small step, bending slightly. He gripped his very apparent erection firmly and rubbed it softly against my clit before sliding into me.

It was so familiar.

Achingly familiar, and delicious.

I moaned his name, pressing my forehead into his chest, then leaning my head against the wall and just feeling...

Feeling him press further into me, so deep, so focused and sure.

Feeling his body press against mine, his hips grinding in rhythm, as my own followed him.

Feeling his hand grip the curve of my waist, leading me firmly but gently.

"Jacob..." It came out as a declaration and cry and prayer.

He continued, snaking his arm around my waist and bending deeper, stilling my hips, pushing into me.

I felt my body alive with his thrusts, and I knew it as sure as I knew I was in love with this man, that he was making me cum.

Again.

He grunted something incoherent as he pressed his mouth against my neck and lifted the bend of my knee into his forearm.

It came unexpectedly.

I thought I was still a few more thrusts away, but, as he shifted my body just-so, I fell over the edge.

Trembling, and moaning, and calling his name and calling out to god.

His hips continued their rhythm against mine, and, because I knew his body almost as well as I knew my own, I knew he wasn’t even close to finishing.

Fuck.

He paused to turn the water off, lifting me easily around his waist and leading us back into his bedroom.

He had opened the doors to his balcony and the breeze let in the most amazing briny rain scent, swirling about the room, letting in the beach and the smell of summer.

My back was against his king mattress, my thighs parted for him, and this was where I needed to be.

With this man, like this.

He needed to know how he made me feel.

He needed to know that with each passing day, that I was falling.

He was my love, and my temptation.