Disclaimer: All references to Twilight are the property of Stephenie Meyer.
"Fuck you, Sam Uley," I said, shoving my way past him and outside onto the porch. As soon as I stepped onto the rickety wood that surrounded his house, I whipped my head around and sneered. "I hope you and that whore are happy together," I spat at him, pointing past him to the girl who was staring, open-mouthed and half-naked, at our exchange.
"Leah …. I'm sorry … I didn't … I mean, I never thought …"
As he stammered for his words like a goddamned 13-year-old prepubescent boy faced with talking to a girl for the first time, I laughed. It was maniacal. "Save it, Sam. Maybe your new girlfriend will actually give a shit," I said in a cold voice.
Before he could respond, I turned on my heel and stomped my way down the three stairs that stood at the front and center of his house and then kicked his gate open on the way to my car. I arrived at my Jeep in no time, threw myself into the driver's side and slammed the door, ready to scream.
But I did not.
Despite the fact that I had just interrupted my boyfriend of three and a half years in the middle of some weird ass fucking fetishy tryst with a blonde whore from god knows where, I did not scream.
Instead, I weighed my options.
I could go home and sit on my couch and eat an entire pint of Phish Food while some depressing LifeTime movie played. I could go home and sleep. I could call Rachel and tell her Sam had fucked everything up and I needed to crash with her for the night. I could call my best friend, Jake, and vent about how his older brother had finally killed our relationship.
None of that seemed appealing. Not even the ice cream.
You know it's serious when ice cream is not appealing.
Maybe it was the anger taking me over as it seethed from every pore in my body, but what I wanted was revenge.
I wanted to go out and find somebody to bring home with me. Somebody who would fuck me senseless, so hard that I'd have issues walking tomorrow but all day, I'd be thinking, "Fuck … that was good."
Once the idea implanted itself in my brain, it was all I could think about. So I went with it.
I sped off, driving like a bat out of hell. My tires squealed as they skidded on the pavement, and I arrived home in record time. I rushed into my townhouse, immediately running to my room and changing clothes. I ripped off my jeans and tank top and replaced them with the tiniest, shortest skirt I owned and a shirt that left little to the imagination. After a moment's consideration, I slid my feet, formerly in flip flops, into knee-high boots with stiletto heels. They screamed "fuck me," which was fitting. A person should have goals, of course.
I paused and looked into the mirror, appraising the way the boots and the short, black skirt made my legs look a mile long.
After applying minimal make up - my olive skin tone and dark lashes didn't necessitate much other than a thin coat of mascara and a sheer lip gloss – I walked out of my room and muttered, "Eat your heart out, Sam," as I walked down my hallway.
On the wall near the kitchen was a photo of Sam and I from six months into our relationship. I snorted and removed it from its hook, carelessly tossing it into the trash as I grabbed my keys from my purse, which I'd thrown on the counter in my rush upon my return home. I pulled my identification and debit card from my purse and slid them into the only pocket of the skirt I was wearing and then removed my car and house key from the keychain they hung on. A purse would cramp my style; I'd just tuck everything away in that pocket and hope for the best.
Satisfied, I looked at the clock. Ten P.M. The drive downtown would take fifteen minutes, and then I'd have to find parking, so I'd get there right as things started hopping. I pursed my lips and stalked out of the apartment, leaving everything – even my cell phone – on the counter. I locked the front door and then rushed to my car, speeding off once again, only this time in another direction.
As I drove, the dulcet tones of Alice in Chains' "Heaven Beside You" surrounding me, I considered what I was doing.
I'd arrived at Sam's as a surprise, wanting to spend an evening with him because he'd been sick lately. I'd intended to show up, ask him what he wanted for dinner, make a food run, and then spend the remainder of the evening with him, catering to his needs and probably a few wants.
Well.
Fuck that.
I'd walked in to find that fucking skank with her lips wrapped around his cock. His eyes were closed and his head arched back as he guided her head, bobbing it up and down at what was apparently a satisfactory rhythm.
I stood there, teeth clenched, until his eyes opened and sheer panic flashed in them.
"Oh fuck," he said, and Blondie – who wasn't even that damn cute, for the record – came up for air. She followed his gaze, and her eyes grew wide as she took me in before her mouth fell open.
"Recognize me from all the pictures on the walls, you fucking bitch?" I asked, my voice steely.
She moved to her left as Sam stood up and tried to speak. "Now, Leah," he began, but I cut him off.
"Oh. You think you get to speak? You think I'm going to listen to whatever bullshit story you're going to try to feed me? I don't think so. Give me a goddamned break … sick? You should have had the balls to tell me you wanted out."
"But Leah …"
"And you," I said directing my eyes back to Blondie, who'd stood up by that point. She tried to cover her breasts with her hands but it's not like I hadn't seen her sitting there in only her panties, so I laughed. "I hope you're happy with this motherfucker. You can see how well he treated me."
I would not play damsel in distress. Fuck that shit. He deserved to feel as small as he was for doing this to me.
I put my right hand on my hip and narrowed my eyes at him. "You have some nerve, you know that? Jake's my best friend. Your brother. He's going to want to fucking kill you." I paused. "And by the way…" I started as he walked past me to stand by the door, obviously trying to gather the courage to tell me to leave.
He wouldn't have to. I'd go when I was damn well good and ready.
"I faked every orgasm, every time. So I hope you do better for her."
"Leah, don't be a bitch," he said, anger finally glinting in his eyes.
I snorted. "You didn't give me much of a choice, now, did you?" I asked.. "Fuck you, Sam Uley," I said, and then stormed out of the house and back home to get ready.
I wasn't that girl.
There would be no "I'll forgive you baby." No fucking way.
Cheating took a special kind of person, and I wasn't going to deal with that bullshit. No way, no how. I felt a little peace in the fact that Jake would be on my side, despite his familial relation to Sam.
Basically … I win.
I arrived downtown and parked in one of the last available free spots. I checked my appearance once more in the mirror and grinned as I climbed down from my Jeep and locked the door, tucking the key into my pocket.
As I walked to the bar I had in mind – Texture – catcalls abounded.
I was hot. I knew it.
The bouncer looked at me in appreciation as I sidled up to him, bypassing the line. "Hey, Embry," I said.
Embry was Jake's other best friend and had always harbored a slight crush on me, though he'd never done anything about it. He was a big guy, sweet and smart, but I knew better than to fuck around with him. It would have been easy, most assuredly, but wrong.
"Leah," he said, his voice thick. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "You wear that get-up for me?" he asked.
Feigning innocence, I looked up at him. "If that's what you want to believe, baby," I said. "You gonna let me in?" I placed a hand on his chest and let it fall slowly down the muscled plane of abs I felt there. He cleared his throat as my palm moved outward, leaving only my fingertips grazing his stomach and he caught my hand just as it reached his belt.
"Yeah, Leah. You're in," he said, his eyes slightly wild.
I smiled and stretched up on my tip toes to kiss his cheek. I whispered, "Thanks, baby," in his ear, and made my way inside, laughing as Embry threatened a guy in the front of the line for complaining that I'd not waited with the rest of the schmucks that were queued up.
I arrived at the bar, and the bartender greeted me. She had long, dark hair and big brown eyes. Pretty. "Hey," she said. "What can I get you?"
"Shot of Jack, please," I said. "Might as well get this party started."
She grinned and nodded. Quickly, she poured a shot and pushed it across the bar, then walked over to a blonde who was standing at the other end of the room. I settled onto my stool and downed my good friend Jack Daniels. The pretty bartender reappeared about ten minutes later with a drink in hand.
"This is from her," she said, gesturing behind her. The blonde stared at me, an intense look on her face, and lifted her fingers at me with an almost imperceptible nod.
I looked down at the double shot and said, "Well, tell her thank you," as I downed that as well.
Three shots in fifteen minutes. Not bad, Leah, I thought.
Music blared around me, and some terrible song by Lady Gaga came on, but I couldn't help myself. I had to get up and dance. I flagged the bartender down and took another shot and then meandered through the thick crowd to the dance floor. By the time I arrived, about a million other people had had the same idea I had, so I found an open pocket of space and began to move to the beat, closing my eyes and raising my arms as my hips moved rhythmically of their own accord.
Gaga disappeared as the song morphed into something by Rihanna, and I adjusted my moves accordingly. A few guys tried to dance with me, but I waved them off, not interested. They weren't what I was looking for that night; not my type, not hot enough, not worth the effort. I just wanted to have a good time in order to forget about Sam.
Someone tugged at the back of my shirt, and I turned over my left shoulder to see the blonde who had sent me the double shot earlier grinning at me. Wordlessly, she began to dance, mimicking my moves as we gyrated together.
Minutes passed, and a slight sheen of sweat covered my face and hers, but we kept dancing.
Slowly, she made her way closer to me so that eventually we were intertwined, a feminine mass of arms and legs and heat and hair and, in the middle of it all, she angled her face toward me and said into my ear, in a voice that was just audible over the music, "I'm Rosalie."
I nodded, and we kept dancing until there was a lull in the music because a new deejay came on and in that new quiet, she asked, "Want another shot?"
I shrugged. Four shots of Jack and I was tipsy for sure, but perhaps if I got something girly, something less intense. "Sure," I said. "I'll buy. I owe you."
We stood at the bar, and I scanned the crowd, wondering whom I'd be spending the rest of my evening with when suddenly a shot was being shoved in my hand, and I jerked my face toward Rosalie in confusion. "I said I was going to buy."
She shook her head. "I don't even know your name," she mused, completely ignoring my statement.
"Leah," I answered.
"To tonight," she toasted, holding her arm up at an angle. When I nodded and held my arm up as well, she hooked her elbow with mine, bringing me closer to her, and we downed our shots that way. Jack burned all the way down my throat, and I swore I could feel him settling in my stomach when she said, "So, Leah. Boyfriend?"
I snickered, warmer than I was even on the dance floor thanks to the alcohol. "Not anymore."
"Girlfriend?" she asked, one perfect eyebrow arched.
As I shook my head at her, I finally noticed how gorgeous she was. It was probably a good thing I never noticed before that moment because if I had, it was entirely possible that I'd have felt inferior or something stupid like that.
Rose had long, thick, naturally blond hair that fell in waves to the middle of her back. Her eyes were a blue so dark they nearly appeared black, and her cheekbones rivaled mine – high and beautiful. Her lips were full, and she had the body that every self-respecting girl wants – tiny waist, legs for days, and perky breasts.
I might have been slightly jealous.
"No girlfriend," she said, flatly. "What brings you out tonight?"
I could scarcely hear her, so I closed my tab and walked away, beckoning for her to follow me. We went to an area that was separated from the bar, where it was quieter and I could therefore hear her better. "What did you ask?" I queried, leaning against a wall, one foot flat against it.
"I asked what brought you out tonight," she said, and I noticed her voice was like liquid honey.
It struck me then that I'd never paid much attention to those kinds of details about a girl before, but I thought nothing of it.
"Well," I began with a smirk, "I walked in on my ex with a blond girl attached to his cock around nine P.M. this evening, promptly ended that lame excuse of a relationship, got dressed, and came out because I fucking could." I paused and then asked, "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged. "Just curious."
I began to fan myself; even in my minimal clothing, I was scorching hot. It had to be the result of the combined effects of the heat on the dance floor and the alcohol in my system. Rosalie cleared her throat, and I realized that she'd taken a step toward me.
"Leah?"
"Hmm?"
She took another step in my direction, and I very nearly moved away. She was in my bubble.
"I just want to try one thing. Don't move."
As I stood there, she shoved her right hand through her hair and closed the space between us.
When her lips touched mine at first, they were timid, shy, almost tentative. I was shocked and frozen but for reasons unbeknownst to me, I did not push her away. Her lips pressed against mine, and it was almost like her gentle kissing was massaging my own lips, making them pliable, and a few moments later, my mouth parted slightly, and she dragged her tongue across my bottom lip. She took it between her teeth and sucked lightly before she plunged her tongue into my mouth, and we played a game of push and pull together. We moved in unison, somehow, and I heard myself gasp.
She pressed me further into the wall, and then I felt her hands on my hips toying with the waist of my skirt. Her right hand slid down the black material of my bent leg and, as her left hand slid around to the small of my back, the right one slipped beneath the material, dangerously close to my sex thanks to my nearly non-existent skirt. She grazed her fingers over my thigh and pulled her hand back as she removed her lips from my own.
As she pulled away, I realized my hands had clasped in her hair, and I felt a faint blush cross my cheeks. I dropped my hands from her hair to her shoulders.
Her hand was still on the small of my back when she growled lightly in my ear. "Let's get out of here."
I nodded, and she took my hand in hers, leading me out of the bar, to the street and to a lot three blocks from my car. "Wait," I said. "My car is over on 47th."
With a face that was alive with mirth, she laughed lightly and said, "I don't give a shit where your car is at the moment. Your place or mine?"
At that point, it was like time stood still. A thousand emotions and questions collided in my mind.
I'm not a lesbian. At least, I thought I wasn't.
Fuck, she's hot, though.
Wait, she's hot? I think a girl is hot?
Damn, that kiss was like fire …
Her place or mine?
I thought of Sam and his blond and let my eyes traipse over Rosalie's form, clad in black pants and a dark purple halter top and realized that she was infinitely more attractive clothed than Sam's blond had been nearly naked. I could only imagine how astonishing her beauty would be in the nude.
And then I realized I wanted this. Wanted her. Wanted whatever came next.
"Yours," I said with finality in my voice.
"You got it, baby," she said, and we ran to her car.
As I sat there, surprised to hear Led Zeppelin blaring from the speakers in Rosalie's BMW, I wondered at the fact that I was strangely not nervous.
It wasn't like I'd been with a girl before. Hell, the only kisses I'd shared with girls were the products of drunken Truth or Dare games. Rosalie turned the radio down and said, "I only live ten minutes from here." She looked over at me, the corners of her lips turned up in a grin. "And please call me Rose."
"Okay, Rose," I replied.
We drove in relative quiet, the only sound the music of the rock gods flowing through the speakers, and she turned onto a quaint street. After about half a block, she pulled into a garage and parked. "This is me," she said.
Still silent, we stepped out of the car.
She led me inside. I tossed my two keys, my ID and debit card onto a table in the entryway and randomly asked, "Do you own or rent?"
She smiled over at me. "Own. Come here," she commanded.
I obeyed, listening to my heels tapping on the hardwood floor as I followed her to the kitchen. I had no idea why she'd led me there, but it hardly mattered. I stepped onto the linoleum a moment after she did, and she smiled. "Hop up," she said, her voice quiet.
"Onto the counter?" I asked lamely.
Rose nodded. "Obviously."
I shrugged and backed up to the cabinets, placing the palms of my hands on the ledge and then hopping so that my ass slid onto the counter. My skirt was so short that I could feel the coolness of the marble countertops on the underside of my thighs.
I stared at Rose. "I like that skirt," she said and walked toward me. Gently, she placed her fingers on my knees and spread them so that her narrow hips could just fit between them. "Mmm," she said, mumbling as she slid her hands up the outside of my thighs, which caused my skirt to ride up even more.
"I could just take it off," I quipped, and her eyes met mine.
"Later," she said.
Leaving her hands on my thighs, she leaned in and ran her tongue along my collar bone.
I shivered, and she whispered, "Do you like that, Leah?" I nodded. "I can do better things that that with my tongue, you know," she said and proceeded to kiss me. This time it was fast and furious, and my hands tangled in her hair as I tried to breathe normally. Her tongue probed my mouth as her hands slipped around my ass, pulling me closer to her and spreading my legs even further apart. My mind was blank, focusing only on that moment and Rose's right hand moved up and around my form, settling on my breast as we continued to kiss, hard and passionate.
She pulled away, and a devious smile appeared on her lips. She looked down at my legs, splayed around her hips, and then lifted her hand from my breast and traced a straight line down my stomach and then over my skirt until she reached my barely covered sex. The thong I'd worn was bright blue and matched my bra perfectly, but it was tiny, and I swore I could feel wetness accumulating on the inside of my thighs as she traced up and down my slit twice. I held my breath the whole time.
"Hmm," she said and then stepped away from me. "Come on, baby."
I hopped down from the counter and followed her through the dining room and up a set of stairs until we reached her bedroom. She held the door open for me and then closed it as I walked in, locking us in. "I have a roommate," she explained.
I nodded.
Her eyes remained focused on mine as she pulled her shirt over her head with one hand, and I marveled at her milky white skin. As I pondered how our skin color contrasted, she said, "Tit for tat, baby. Your turn."
Somehow, I managed to quirk an eyebrow at her. "Maybe I want you to take it off for me," I said.
She grinned and shook her head. "But that's not how this night's going to work, Leah. I'm the boss tonight." She paused and before I could make a comment about her implying this would happen again, in a demanding voice she said, "Take it off."
I shrugged and did what she commanded, letting my shirt fall to the floor. I stood there in my bra and skirt and boots for almost a minute before she said, "God damn, maybe you should stay like that."
I smiled, my courage still alive and kicking. "Like what you see?"
"Like you don't?" she retorted and without thinking, I let my eyes dart up and down her upper body. Her bra was blood red, and there was the slightest hint of definition in her abdomen.
"You have a point," I said.
She grinned and unbuttoned her pants, pushing them over her hips and letting them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them and stood there in just her underwear and heels, and my wetness pooled again.
In the moment before I moved to take off my shoes, I tried hard not to show my surprise. This was a girl. A girl. I'd never done more than kiss a girl before thanks to a stupid, juvenile game in high school and hadn't everyone done that? I never considered myself to be even interested in women, but my reaction to Rose was intense and impossible to ignore. I decided to think about it later.
I licked my lips and sat down on the foot of her bed to remove my boots. I unzipped them both and stood them at the corner of her bed. I pulled my socks off as well, balling them up and shoving them into the shoes. By the time I stood up, she was right in front of me, her shoes discarded and her eyes determined. "The skirt," she said. "Take it off."
I kept my eyes on hers and followed her orders, surprised that I was letting her boss me around like I was her subordinate. That shit would never have flown with Sam, and I wondered why it didn't bother me with Rose.
I stood there in front of her, virtually naked thanks to my tiny blue underwear, and she looked down her nose at my breasts. "Take it off, Leah," she said.
I nodded and reached behind my back to unclasp my bra, hooking my fingers under the straps at my shoulders and pulling it away from my skin once I had succeeded. The cool air from her air conditioning made my nipples sensitive, and she smiled. "You have magnificent breasts, Leah," she said.
"Thank you," I mumbled, fully intending to further my comment, but I was rendered speechless because her fingertips were on my peaks then, pinching and rubbing so that my nipples were so erect it was nearly painful.
"Lie down," she whispered.
Still lost in a haze, I let myself sit down and fall back onto her mattress, my legs bent at the knee over the edge.
Then, Rose was straddling me, her center hot against mine and I wriggled beneath her as my senses suddenly became intensely alive. I felt as though my sight had improved, allowing me to see the minute details of my surroundings: the slight silver sheen to Rose's sheets, the red threading that was woven through her curtains, the strands of her hair that were half a shade darker than the rest. I could hear every subtle noise in her room, the soft whir of the fan overshadowed by Rose's shallow breathing and my own, and when her hands massaged my breasts again, I closed my eyes at the sensation. It didn't matter that she was a woman, that Sam had fucked me over, or that I was inexperienced with girl-on-girl action. I wanted Rosalie's hands on me always.
And then her lips encapsulated my left nipple, and she licked and bit and sucked at me until I whimpered. She paused only long enough to move to my right breast and pay it the same level of attention and then straightened her back again, looking down at me.
I moved to sit up, wanting to remove her bra so that I could see her breasts without their enclosures, but she tutted at me. "Now, now, Leah," she said. "What did I say?"
I lay back, and she smiled, climbing off of me and standing at the foot of the bed. "Scoot down, baby," she demanded.
Wordlessly, I obeyed. "Is this good?" I asked, wondering when I'd become so good at following orders.
"Just a smidge more, baby," she said.
I moved so that my hips were on the edge of the mattress. She knelt before me, and I propped myself up on my elbows.
"These sexy ass panties are lovely, baby. I think I'll request you wear this style all the time. But for now, they need to go." With that, she hooked her index fingers into the thin strap of my thong and dragged it down my legs and over my feet, dropping it somewhere on the floor near her.
Rose repositioned herself between my legs and then her fingers traced random designs up my inner thighs. Once she reached a certain point, she pressed my legs outward, exposing me in every way. Then, she looked me in the eye and lowered her head to my center and slid her tongue into my slit, dragging it upward until she found my clit.
Involuntarily, my hips bucked against her, and I watched as she smiled against my skin, encircling my clit over and over again with her luscious tongue, and when she began to slide a finger up and down my slit, I couldn't handle it any longer and let my head fall back against the mattress, my mouth open and gasping as my neck and back arched. "Fuck. Oh, fuck …" I repeated, and she laughed against my sensitive skin as I felt the warmth begin to spread from my navel to the middle of my thighs.
My hips were writhing of their own accord, and I knew there was no way I could stop them, but then she pressed her hands on my thighs, holding my legs to the mattress and plunged her tongue into me again, and I cried out, "Rose! Oh my God!"
She didn't lift her head though, and as the heat radiated in my hips again and again, she drank me in. I came once and then twice and then, when I was so sensitive that I was nearly cringing at her touch, she pulled her mouth away from me, a satisfied and cocky smirk on her lips. As Rose licked me off of her lips, I sighed.
"You liked that, did you, Leah?" she asked.
I groaned. "Obviously," I retorted.
"I thought I'd make your first time memorable," she said.
"How did you know?" I asked, surprised.
Rose shook her head at me. "I just do. And while your boyfriend might have been able to do a good job, I'm willing to bet that he never made you cum three times…and if I thought you'd have been able to handle that, I would have."
I closed my eyes and shook my head. She lay next to me and took my breast in her right hand.
When she kissed me, I tasted myself on her and initially recoiled, but her lips were persistent, and I quickly gave in, allowing her to lick and nibble at my lips as she'd done at the bar.
We parted, and I looked at her body next to mine. I wanted to touch her. Taste her. Anything. Everything. She laughed softly and said, "You want to try, don't you?" My eyes jerked back up to meet hers. I must have looked crazed then because she laughed louder in response to my face. "Don't worry, Leah. I can talk you through it." She paused and traced her finger along my jaw line. "So damned beautiful, L. You'll try for me, right?"
Her eyes bored into mine, and it was like I was under some sort of spell. She crawled up the bed and sat up. "Come here," she said quietly, and I noticed that the demanding tone was nowhere to be found.
I sat up and moved to her. "Take it off for me, Leah," she requested softly, turning so that her back was angled in my direction. Immediately, my hands were on her bra's clasp, and I'd unhooked it just as quickly. Rosalie pulled the lace away from her breasts and lay back on the pillow.
I sat frozen as I stared at her breasts, perfect and perky. Her hand slid across the blanket, and she said my name and then, "Give me your hand."
Yes, the demanding tone was gone, but she was still in control, still leading, still owning me.
Obediently, I held my left hand out. She took it in her hand and placed it over her breast and hummed appreciatively. "Your hands are cool to the touch," she observed. "Do what feels natural."
So I massaged. I rubbed. I pinched. Finally, I leaned down and took her nipple between my lips and teeth and licked and sucked and nibbled. I alternated between gentle and not and didn't stop until I heard her gasp, a sound that somehow made wetness develop yet again between my legs. This woman was driving me crazy.
"Shit," she hissed. "Move down. Take them off."
Her panties. Red and small and in the way.
I had become single-minded and followed her quiet commands.
I crawled down the bed and pulled her panties down her legs. Once I held them in my hand, I dropped them to the side of the mattress and looked at her, awaiting further instruction. I wanted to lick the soft but toned skin of her stomach. I wanted to run my hands over her body, but I knew already that Rose didn't work that way. She reigned in this place.
She propped herself up on her elbows, mirroring my position from earlier. "Are you ready?" she asked. "I'll tell you now that this night's not ending until your mouth is on me because after watching you … I need to cum. And you're going to make me. Is that clear?"
The tone was back, and my wetness doubled. Jesus.
I nodded, and she smiled. "Good girl. I'm going to move my lower body. You know where to go."
She opened her legs, and as soon as space allowed, I positioned myself between her knees, my hands clasped in my lap. Her sex was revealed before me, and she said, "Give me two fingers of the hand you write with," she said.
I gave her my hand, and she slid the fingers into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around them before slowly dragging them down her body. When our hands reached their intended destination, she slid them up and down her slit, and when I realized that she was wet … that it had been me that caused that reaction … I smiled in spite of myself.
She led my hand for a few minutes, lifting and lowering it, moving my fingers around her clit before removing her hand from mine. It wasn't until she growled lightly that I knew I'd found the rhythm she liked, and I kept at it 'til my fingers were coated in her essence, and I realized what I wanted to do next.
"Come on, baby," she said simply.
I swallowed hard and, keeping my fingers pressed to her, lowered my face as she adjusted her legs, first pointing her knees toward the ceiling and then letting them fall to the side. I waited for instruction, for her to tell me what to do, but it never came, and so after a moment, I brought my free hand up to meet her skin and delicately manipulated her sex, giving my tongue easier access.
Tentatively, I opened my mouth, and she let her elbows collapse so that her head fell back on the pillow. I was shaking as I pressed my tongue against her for the first time, and Rose moaned appreciatively. "Fuck," she whispered.
I took that as an encouraging sign and dragged my mouth upward until my tongue found her clit, and I lapped at her lightly, uncertain of whether I was doing it the right way, or at the very least the way she wanted me to. My efforts were met with an "mmm" so I licked up and down her slit, wondering at her taste as her wetness slowly grew and grew.
Rose's fingers tangled the hair to the left of the crown of my head, and when I looked up at her, keeping my mouth against her skin, her eyes were clamped firmly shut and her lips were parted, and it was probably the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Rosalie in the throes of ecstasy, all thanks to me.
The sight made me double my efforts. I lapped and sucked and then nipped at her clit. I dragged my tongue up and down and across her center, tasting her as she began to slowly writhe against my mouth. Her scent overwhelmed me; she was all I could see, all I could hear, all I could taste.
"Leah, baby, I'm … going to cum," she said and I knew it was a warning, but I didn't move.
Instead, I continued my work and when she came, her hips bucking and her fingers knotting against the blanket beneath her and her moans strangled, I swallowed her down and watched her regain composure.
I moved into a sitting position, and her eyes were still closed when I began to run my finger up and down her slit of my own accord. "Mmm," I mumbled, other words impossible.
Her eyes opened, and they rolled back in her head. "You liked that, I see." Her voice was tight, and she was breathless. "You have to stop baby. I can't handle anymore. Not tonight."
There was no thought of Sam. No wondering at her talk of another night together. No arguments.
I withdrew my hand and took my own fingers in my mouth as she sat up and watched me suck the last of her from my skin. Her breath caught, and she said, "Fuck, Leah. How had you never been with a girl before? You're a natural."
I smiled, my finger still between my lips, and shrugged.
"I like you, Leah," she said firmly.
"I like you, Rose," I replied, finally removing my fingertips from my mouth.
She commanded that I lay down and so I did, buck naked and under a thin blanket, my head on her pillow as she curved her body behind me. I could feel her breasts against my back.
"Sleep, my Leah," she said, and I realized that I was exhausted through and through.
My final thoughts of the evening focused on my sheer amazement that I'd followed through with my first lesbian experience, wondering if I'd ever be able to be with a man again. I was pretty sure that in one night, Rose had ruined them all for me.
The thought of men brought Sam back to my mind, and I smirked as I realized something.
My blond was infinitely more attractive.
I win, I thought with a smirk and placed my hand over Rosalie's on my stomach, snuggling into her form. Sleep came quickly.
This story is the work of its author and not TwiSlash Unveiled. It has been submitted under the TU pen name for the TwiSlash Unveiled Femme Slash contest, but remains the property of the author.