Authors Note: This piece was written for the "Love Through Lemons" Contest hosted by tby789 and LolaShoes. My first thought was "fuck you both for coming up with the hardest fucking challenge ever." My next thought was "thank you for pushing us to use powerful words in powerful ways." This thing never would have seen the light of day if it hadn't been for Songirl and PoeticCheese. You both worked your magic in different ways and at lightening speed. I doubt I can convey how grateful I am that you both are willing to read the shit I come up with and try very hard to make it pretty. And Alice? You're a dirty hoor and I love you. Bitch.

Warning/Disclaimer: This piece contains scenes of a sexual nature and is intended for a mature audience. If this bothers you, please hit the back arrow at the upper left hand corner of your screen. If you want to flame my writing, feel free - but I don't appreciate flames for the content once you have been warned. Lastly, I do not own anything Twilight related, no profit is being made from this little diddy and no copyright infringement is intended.

DESERVING

I want to hate her so much. You can't even fucking imagine how much I want to hate her. But can I really hate her? The shit she does to me . . . I should hate her with every cell in my body. My friends hate her, that's for sure. They want to see her hung in the public square, and have darts thrown at her until she slowly bleeds to death. It's really my fault, though. I let her do it. I let her get away with it, and I don't say a fucking word. I assume she knows how much she hurts me. My friends think she knows what she does to me and that she's an evil bitch for it, but, in reality, she probably has no idea. Some part of me hopes she has no idea. It would hurt even more if she really were evil and just didn't fucking care that she tortured me. I want to hate her, but I can't.

***

Two years. We'd been doing this shit for two years. Most of the time she goes out with some guy, decides he's boring and then stops by my place on her way home. Other times she just shows up and demands that I fuck her. I'm sure a lot of guys would think that was the perfect set up. At least I'm getting laid, right? I'm getting laid a lot, and it's good. Don't get me wrong. Most of the time, it's fucking spectacular.

"Ungghh, yeah, right there. C'mon Edward, just like . . ."

Fuck. She was riding me for all I was worth. She didn't even let me get my pants down past my knees this time. She just stormed into my apartment, shoved me against the wall and attacked me. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Now she was straddling me, pushing me against the back of the sofa, pinning my wrists behind my neck. I could feel her tensing up, and her thighs were squeezing against mine. I closed my eyes, trying to hold off my own orgasm. I grit my teeth as I felt her hands let go of mine. I managed to mutter out in a raspy tone as she sped up, slamming down harder onto my lap, "Are you close?"

"Yeah," she said, licking her lips, "just . . ."

She didn't have to tell me. She never had to tell me how to get her there. I knew. I always knew. She kept going, grinding on me with her head thrown back, and a grin on her face. I sucked on my fingers before dragging them down her chest and shoving them between us. She pushed harder against me when I started rubbing her clit. She was groaning and moaning like a fat kid at a desert bar. This was my favorite part-- the only time I got to see the real her. No masks. No games. Just Tanya. With one last grunt, she twisted her hips and came all over me. God. Without missing a beat, she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me closer to her. "Okay, Cullen," she whispered into my neck, "your turn." She clenched around me again and fucking bit me. I hated it when she did that shit. I hated it even more that I came like a fucking teenager every time she did it.

I could feel her shift a little and settle her chin into the crook of my neck. I suppose some people would use the word "snuggle". I snorted to myself. That would be great, except Tanya didn't fucking snuggle. Teddy bears snuggled, kittens snuggled, cute little fluffy and furry things snuggled. Tanya wasn't any of those things. Tanya was a predator-- pure and simple.

And me? I'm her prey. I give in to her demands every fucking time because I'm just fucked up like that. One of these days I'm going to say no to her. Again, I'm laughing on the inside. Like I could ever fucking say no to her. That's my problem. How do you say no to the one person you want more than life itself? So I just keep giving in and take whatever she'll give me. It's not much, but I keep thinking one of these days she'll give me more. One of these days, she'll give me what I deserve, right? What do I deserve, though? Do I deserve to have everything? Or do I deserve whatever I get because I'm a pussy and just take her shit lying down? Pun intended.

***

We were both a little drunk tonight. Sometimes that was a good thing. Sometimes it just made it harder for me. Drunk girls are supposed to be all affectionate and shit, right? Not Tanya. Most of the time it just made her mean. Sometimes it made her adventurous. I'm not sure which one it was tonight. She was in a very weird mood. She invited me to her place when we left the bar, and then she even stopped to ask me if I wanted to have sex with her. What a fucking concept. She was pensive, too. Not like she wasn't into it, because she was. My hand was buried knuckle deep inside her, and she felt like a slip 'n slide in the middle of July. I just felt like she had other things on her mind. She seemed distracted. Maybe this was the chance I needed.

I pulled my hand away from her and slid up her body. I made sure she was looking at me while I licked my hand clean. She always got off on that shit. On some level, she was a filthy little whore. But on every other level she was an angel. Too bad only one of those wanted me. I felt her hands running over my sides, pulling me closer. The backs of her thighs were smooth as they rested against my knees. She met my eyes and I gave her a questioning look. She nodded back and bit her lip as I slipped inside. We didn't do this very often-- missonary position, that is. My gut told me that she thought it was too intimate. I lied to myself though, and just kept saying she was kinky and usually wanted something different. She could get boring anywhere, but she came to me, right? Right.

We had a nice, smooth rhythm. Slow and steady. She was making all the right sounds, and I guess I was doing all the right things. She tilted her hips up a little and then moaned when I hit her cervix. She wasn't the tightest, but she obviously did her Kegel exercises. She felt really good tonight. Smooth. Soft. My buzz was still going strong. I didn't feel the need to cum yet. I wanted to make this last. I wanted it to be different. I caught her eyes and smiled at her. She smirked back at me and gripped my hips, digging her nails into my skin. Lowering my arms, I fell closer to her. Her nipples were right there, so I carefully took one between my teeth. The pain made her writhe harder. I looked up at her as I slowly her nipple slide between my teeth. She had a satisfied look on her face. I kept staring into her eyes as I left little bite marks on her skin, making my way up to her neck. I dragged my teeth over her jaw, tracing a path across the softness of her cheek. I wanted this so much. The intimacy. The closeness. I craved it. I felt like I could crawl inside her and live the rest of my days. Resolving myself, I lowered my lips to hers and slipped my tongue into her mouth.

It was exquisite, really. Tasting her for the first time. It was better than I had ever imagined. She was the sweetest fruit, the finest wine and the most delectable desert, all rolled in to one. I wanted to savor it. I wanted it to last forever, but deep inside I knew this was the end. I had broken the golden rule and I would pay dearly for it.

It took all of a second and a half for her to shove me off of her. That was pretty fucking good, considering she was still tipsy.

"Edward," she screeched at me, "What the fuck was that?" She scrambled to cover herself with the sheet, pushing me away from her in the process. I watched as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand like she had just been slobbered on by a drooling Labrador puppy. That hurt enough that I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes. What a fucking warped sense of reality. We'd done so many sexual things to each other over the years: borderline deviant, unspeakably raunchy things, and the most disgusting thing to her is a kiss. Why am I such a fucking idiot? How could I not see how fucked up this whole thing was? The flood gates were opening and I couldn't do anything to stop them.

I just stared at her. I wasn't sure what to say. I felt embarrassed. I felt degraded. So instead of trying to explain myself, instead of fighting for it, I just picked up my clothes and started getting dressed.

This made her even madder. "Answer me, Edward!" She climbed off the bed and roughly wrapped the sheet around her body. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

I didn't say anything as I finished buttoning my shirt. She kept screaming and ranting at me like I had taken an automatic weapon to a kindergarten class. I couldn't help it. I was so fucked up. I was crying. Can you believe that shit? Crying. I was also trying to pull my hair out by the roots and keep from screaming at the same time. I finally just whispered to her. "I'm so sick and tired of this game. I just can't fucking do this anymore."

She looked incredulous. She was just staring at me like she had no fucking clue what I was talking about. She threw her hands up, exasperated. "Edward, what do you want from me?"

I had to laugh at little but it came out more sarcastic than I intended. "Tanya, you know exactly what I want from you. I want it all. I stopped hiding that fact from you a while ago, but, as usual, you just ignored it because you're too selfish to see anything besides what you want." For once, I looked her directly in the eyes. I'm not sure where the nerve came from but I was determined to lay it on the line and either stop the bleeding or amputate the dead weight. "The only question left is what you want from me, Tanya." I didn't even try to hide the tears as I grabbed my jacket and headed to the door. I couldn't look at her again, but I had to finish this. I had to lock the door before she pushed her way through it again. "If you ever figure out what you really want from me, I'd appreciate if you'd let me know. Until then, I don't want to see you anymore."

***

The only analogy I can think of is coming home from the hospital after you've been in a coma for several months. You're weak. You're tired. You're barely alive, but you feel better than you ever have because you know you've dodged a bullet. In this case, it was only a karmic bullet, but it was an armor piercing bullet nonetheless.

So, in a way, I amputated the arm. Or the leg. Or whatever appendage you want to associate with Tanya. She's gone. I haven't seen her in six months.

I can't lie. The first few months were hell. I was pathetic. I tried to call her a bunch of times. A friend of mine took my phone and had her number blocked. Both ways. He said he was sick and tired of me fucking around with her and getting hurt. So after I wallowed for a few weeks, I stopped being pathetic and decided to get drunk. A lot. So I did. I pretty much stayed drunk for three weeks. That was fun. Not. My buddies said that I was more fun hung over than I ever was when Tanya was around. Ouch. Is that more a reflection of me or her? I'm guessing me. I still blame myself for most of that shit. I let her do it to me and I'm the one who finally stopped it, even if it was inadvertent.

So, it's all me now. I've learned a lot about myself in the last few months. I'm stronger than I thought I was, both physically and emotionally. I think I pushed myself just to see where I'd end up. Once I hit that wall, I came to realize that I can't control other people. I can't make them do what I want them to do, or even what I think they should do. The only thing I can control is myself, and my reactions to people. I have to focus on that every day. Sometimes it really fucking hurts, though.

I'm dating again. Well, "again" implies that I've dated in the past. According to my buddies, I haven't dated in two and a half years. Not since I met Tanya. It never dawned on me that she wasn't my girlfriend during that time. How sick and twisted is that? It makes me think of a game of truth or dare we played one time. My buddy was asked if he ever cheated on his girlfriend. His response was "I've never cheated on anyone I called my girlfriend, but I've cheated on a lot of girls who called me their boyfriend." Bastard's got a point. It's all about perspective, I suppose, right? I keep trying to make sure I'm on the same page as my "date". I've had good dates and bad dates. Most of them run away screaming when I talk about my past "relationships".

One girl in particular, though, didn't run away at all. Bella. She's still here. I'm not sure why. She's cute. Brown hair, sweet cherubic face, deep brown eyes and a rack that isn't hard to look at. She's smart, too, a psych major. I keep asking her when her paper on me is due so I can plan ahead for the breakup. She just laughs and kisses me sweetly. She's not clingy, and she's not a gold digger. Not that I have any gold to dig, but you know what I mean. Basically, there isn't anything blatantly wrong with her. So it irks me that I can't figure out why she's with me.

I'm broken. She knows that, and she's still here. Fucking amazing. We've been "dating" for a couple months now. We haven't fucked yet. Neither of us has pushed the issue, and I don't think it's really been a conscious decision either way. Don't get me wrong, though, we've done a lot of shit to each other. That girl can give me a spit shine that makes me want to cry, but in the best possible way. Yet another reason why she's fucking awesome. Yet another reason to wonder why she's with me.

We went to dinner with her parents tonight. I was petrified. They were very cool, though. Of course they were. She held my hand under the table and rubbed little circles on my thigh, through my jeans. I don't know if she was trying to calm me down or get me hard. Doesn't really matter, because she did both. After dinner she took me back to her place. She flat out told me that she wanted to have sex with me. She doesn't play games. Did I mention that? I don't fucking deserve someone as cool as her. I tell her that all the time. That's the only time she gives me any grief. "Edward, if you don't deserve me, it's because you've convinced yourself of that."

So I sat there in her recliner while she got on her knees in front of me. She took me in her mouth and, I swear to God, I could feel the taste buds on her tongue as she lavished her attention on my cock. She wasn't in a hurry, and she didn't act like she was doing me a favor. She wanted to do this. She wanted me to feel like I deserved this. She pulled my hands to her head and encouraged me to run my fingers through her hair. Once I had a little grip on her, she looked up at me and winked. That was by far the sexiest fucking thing anyone has ever done. So I did what she wanted. I pushed her a little faster and asked her to be a little rougher.

On some level I felt all of the confidence she had in me coming out around my cock. She was telling me, without words, that I mattered. She was letting me know that what I wanted mattered. The whole thing felt surreal. It was as if I was watching it from her point of view. I could feel my orgasm building but it didn't have that exploding presence behind it. It felt good. It felt warm. It felt comforting. And when I finally came, she took everything in, and then sat back and smiled at me. That was the second sexiest thing I've ever seen. I leaned down and kissed her and made sure she knew how much I appreciated it.

She took me into her bedroom and said she was determined to convince me that I deserved her, and so much more. In many ways it was a fucking religious experience. I've had sex. A lot of sex. But I don't know if I've ever been as hyper-aware of my partner until tonight. She kept telling me that it was my turn, and that I deserved to feel good for once. It was so fucking different. I don't want to say just different from Tanya, because that doesn't even cover it. It was different from anything I've ever experienced.

First, she undressed me. I felt a little misogynistic by letting her do that but she insisted. I looked down at her hands as they slowly pulled my belt from its loops. She was so confident. So sexy. Her nails scraped lightly across my stomach as she opened my dress shirt. With just a simple kiss to my chest, my nipples tightened and I got a nervous flutter in my gut. She must have sensed it. When she realized I was a little nervous, she smirked at me and tried to lighten the mood. "Please tell me you're not a virgin, Edward."

She even took her time taking my socks off. She playfully hummed some cheesy stripper music as she tugged them off and tossed them over her shoulder. I couldn't help but laugh. I was naked and insecure and yet she made me laugh. I started to realize at that moment how priceless that was. Finally, she made me lie down and then she undressed for me. All the way down to this little frilly corset thing that made her breasts look fucking unbelievable. Her little satin shorts felt smooth as she climbed over me to lie on her side. My cock took notice and greeted her as she moved across my body. She chuckled and just made a comment about my 'recovery' time.

For the longest time we just laid there. I was enjoying the warmth radiating from her body. It wasn't forced or uncomfortable. It was real. It was honest.

"Edward?" She was drawing lazy circles on my chest with her fingers, and I was reveling in the softness of her hands.

"Hm?" I said, not opening my eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" She asked me deadpan.

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"I'm serious. I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You're beautiful inside and out."

She did this all the time. My self esteem was coming back piece by piece, thanks to her. I usually diffused the situation with a joke. I have to fend off the serious conversations, right? I wouldn't do that tonight. It wasn't the time. This was time for sincerity. She definitely deserved that.

I looked over at her and touched her cheek softly with my fingers. "Thank you."

She returned the touch, along with a smile. "You're welcome."

And so it began. A series of touches, tastes, sounds and sensations that I'd never experienced before. I swear she spent an hour outlining the muscles in my back with her finger nails. It was an odd sensation -- somewhere between tickling and feeling like a dull knife running over your skin. Regardless, it was arousing.

I returned the favor and spent a long time tracing the contours of her body. I carefully outlined her breasts, paying special attention to her areolas. They weren't Barbie pink and they weren't perfectly round or superbly perky. But they were perfect to me. Because they were part of her and I told her as much.

I made the same comment when I licked around her belly button and made her laugh. Her stomach wasn't completely flat and her skin wasn't silky smooth. But it was her and she was perfect. I counted the freckles on her hips with little kisses to each one. She liked that. And she really liked it when I leaned my chin down on her belly and pressed hard enough to stimulate her clitoris. By that time I could smell her. She was excited, too. I closed my eyes and felt grateful that I was actually sharing this experience -- not just participating.

She tasted better to me than she ever had. I don't know why, but the feeling of her on my tongue was different this time. I'd done this before and it was always great, but this time just felt like there was something more there. Something. . .emotional. I worked her with my tongue and my lips and my fingers until I felt her seize up and implode. God, I loved that. I loved knowing that I could do that to her. She gave me a lazy smile and crooked her finger at me. I crawled up her body, planting tiny kisses here and there as I went. By the time I reached her lips, she had me cradled in between her thighs, ready and waiting.

With a whispered affirmation, I pushed into her slowly, savoring each new depth as if it were my first. It was amazing. She was warm and inviting. She held me and rocked with me. She asked me to go a little deeper, and then just a little bit harder. So I did. I gave her everything I could. She deserved that. We made the sounds that no one acknowledges. The gentle slap of skin on skin, and the soft sucking sound of her arousal as I moved in and out of her body. I probably should have been embarrassed for noticing those things, but I wasn't. I wasn't embarrassed at all because when she looked at me and smiled, everything was better. And when she came around me, it was beautiful. And when I came inside her, it was spiritual. It wasn't perfection by objective standards. There was no porn music nor were there any church bells ringing. It wasn't heaven and it certainly wasn't hell, but it was perfect for us. And we deserved that.

###