Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

This one-shot is dedicated to my Hoodie.

Happy Birthday, boo boo.

I love you.

What Happens in South Padre

Lying wide awake, I stare up at the ceiling fan, its blades turning teasingly at a silent, sluggish pace. I'm far from hypnotized by the lazy spin, finding it damn near impossible to fall asleep without the hum, or any soothing sound separate from the gritting laughter coming from the balcony just outside my window. It chafes my ears, almost as bad as the lingering sand chafes my ass.

I snicker at the analogy; still zonked, I realize when I roll over, letting my legs fall off the bed so I can sit up at the side, and try uselessly to blink out the blur. I had my last drink hours ago, but I still feel it, nice and fresh, swimming through my bloodstream and splashing around in my head. The passing headlights do little to help the dizziness, so I shut my eyes to the blinds, still seeing them, their shadows dancing behind my closed lids.

Fucking South Padre, the Island full of losers that never sleep.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I snicker again, this time sucking in the stuffy air with a snort. If only I were this clever sober, maybe then I wouldn't be so cynical, maybe then I could loosen up and I don't know, have some fucking fun for once in my life.

At least that's what Rose thinks.

Rose.

What the fuck does she know?

Glancing at the door connecting our two rooms, I roll my eyes. Fucking drink or dare. I should have pushed her closer to the pit, and caught her sarong on fire. She was always such a cunt, projecting all of her insecurities onto me. If I wanted to kiss her, I would have fucking kissed her and she would have fucking liked it.

My mind hums, the laughter outside my hotel room slowly fading away, replaced by the occasional mumble of partygoers on their way back to bed, or the beach, or wherever the fuck. I don't know, and I don't care.

I jump when the door separating Rose's and my rooms clicks open, quick to cover my exposed breasts while simultaneously reaching for the tank balled up on the end of the bed.

I let out a silent sigh of relief, and relax my shoulders when I realize it's only the wind pulling and pushing, causing the door to sway. Pulling on my tank, I pad over to close it, grabbing the bottle of 100 proof from the dresser and downing the rest of its contents. I place my free hand on the white, chipped wood, and drop the bottle on the carpeted floor as I slide my hand down to the handle, cracking the door further open instead. I peek inside.

Emmett's bear of a body hides every bit of Rose's except the tip top of her bent knee. His snores fill the filthy room. And when I say filthy, I mean fucking filthy. There's clothes strewn everywhere. Red, plastic cups piled up and spilling out all over the place. Disgusting.

My attention turns back to Rose's knee when I see it move out of the corner of my eye. I find it amazing that she is even able to sleep, wondering if she really is when I hear a soft whimper in between the bouts of obnoxious log sawing.

Intrigued … and incredibly inebriated, I sneak further into the room, making my way through the maze of rumpled button ups and sopping swim trunks.

Why in the hell does Emmett own so many pairs of swim trunks?

My only source of light is the neon No Vacancy sign.

It flickers and surges like an electrical bug trap, flashing with every short in the faulty wiring. The perfect setting for a B-rated slasher. All that's missing is the eery coo of a waterphone and my own personal choice of deadly weapon.

But I don't want to kill her.

Not right now.

The sweet sound of soft whimpers sobers my stupid thoughts, and my attention lands on the top of her bent knee again. I slow my steps as I round the end of the bed, finding Rose sprawled out in a matching white tank and panties. Her thighs are parted wide, one resting on E's back and the other slightly bent, laying lax on the bed. The white cotton of what little she wears stands out against her tan skin. I look down at mine a little perturbed that I've spent just as much time out in the sun as she has and she's at least three shades darker than me.

Something has to give.

Does she really need it all?

I'm not totally sure if I want her or just want to be her, as my eyes travel up one of her thighs, flitting over her flat stomach and full breasts to settle on that pretty face. Every feature is kissed with perfection. Her lips are plump and parted, the insides stained red from all the fireballs she always chews.

She has the perfect lips for sucking dick, so says Emmett. I've heard him comment on them. More than a little disturbed when he added that I kinda did, too, and that we were both "made for his oral pleasure."

The boy was drunk off his ass, so I let it slide. He was just lucky Rose didn't hear him or he probably wouldn't have had anything left to orally please.

What a douche.

I wonder if Rose flicks herself off in front him like she does me. Does he know the real sounds she makes when she comes? It's similar to the sound she's making now. I know it well; I've heard it before. Several times before, in fact, seeing as Rosalie has touched herself in front of me – often and without apology. So far, it's only been late at night and under the covers, pretty much whenever she thinks I'm asleep. But I know she's doing it – probably shoving her fingers deep inside that perfectly pink pussy while simultaneously thumbing circles around her clit.

Mine throbs at the thought of coming, every recollection of her "O" face burned deep within my brain. My fingers twitch anxiously, my feet stepping up to the end of the mattress on their own accord. For some reason I want to touch her.

My eyes dart down to her moving hips, and my gaze settles on the wet spot in the center of her white cotton panties.

I must be out of my mind.

Bringing one knee up to rest on the end of the mattress, I lean forward on my palms, pulling the other leg up to slowly crawl between her legs.

Either I'm imagining it, or she anticipates my late night offering, spreading her thighs wider as I settle on my stomach, lowering my head to skim my nose along the clothed juncture.

I owe her a dare, after all.

A kiss on the lips.

Taking a deep breath, I press my mouth against the fabric, letting out a hot breath as she starts to stir.

"Wha- Bella?" I hear her whisper, her thighs barely boxing my ears with her weak attempt to close her legs.

Looking up into her hooded, blue eyes, I smile with my brown ones.

One glance over at a sleeping Emmett's back and she bites her lip, the shamed aversion of her eyes all I really need as she silently spreads open wide again, resting the crook of her arm across her face.

My heart races as I trace a line down the center of her panties. I've never done this before, never wanted to do this before. Not until now, not until I felt the power surging through me from that needy look on her face. Pressing my mouth back into her covered pussy, I finger the edge of her panties before pulling them aside to take in the sight. So pink, and pretty. Rose has one of those slits made for cinematic viewing. I can almost see her clit throbbing, the little bundle of flesh so swollen and in need of a good licking.

Holding the crotch of her panties to the side, I close a kiss over her clit, flicking it a couple of times with my tongue while I shove the loose sheets just below my own aching need. Spreading my knees further apart, I grind my pussy into the balled up fabric, damn near coming as I circle my middle finger around the soaked rim of her small entrance. I look up as I slip it just inside, watching her mouth fall further open while I sink in deeper and deeper with every teasing pump. Turning it pad up, I curl it forward, stroking the soft sponginess while licking up what's already leaked out into my palm. I follow the trail up my finger, dipping my tongue partially into her entrance before latching onto her clit and adding a second digit.

Simultaneously sucking and licking, I fuck her, feeling my insides flutter at the same exact times that she clamps down on my fingers. As much as our passed-out company will allow, I work her up into a subdued frenzy, her arm clamped tightly across her mouth as her eyes bounce between rolling into the back of her head and cautiously keeping an eye out for her boyfriend to rear his beefy head.

Her toes dig into the mattress on either side of me, her breath staggered and labored as she fights the urge to writhe and moan.

Doubling my efforts, I'm determined to make her scream.

Prude this, ya dirty ho.

I'm not worried about the man beside us. Even if he did rouse, I doubt he would mind much. It would probably turn him on and have him begging us both to get in on the action. So far from being a prude, I wouldn't care either way, would probably let him stick it in me if he asked nicely.

I almost wish he would wake up and fill my achy cunt as I rub it harder against the balled-up sheets. My fingers jackhammer into her pussy, my hand slapping sloppily against her wet flesh, just as loud as the soppy sound of my wiggling tongue against her clit.

Strangled whimpers escape from behind the bend of her elbow, her inner thigh muscles flexing on their own accord. She's about ready to lose it, untangling her grip from her hair to wind it into mine. I still my tongue, flattening it against her as she starts to fuck my face. I can feel the beginnings of her orgasm tightening around my fingers, mine hitting me hard and fast while she still shakes, her inner walls giving in and repeatedly clamping around my fingers. I leave them lodged up inside of her until her back goes lax, smiling to myself when she whimpers while I pull them out to wipe them on the sheets.

Covering her back up with a triumphant smirk, I rise onto my hands and knees to get up and leave.

Dare accepted and fucking exceeded, bitch.

The next morning, I follow Rose's suit, acting as if nothing happened last night. I don't even mention it when we're alone in my room, her back to my naked body while I pull on my bikini and maxi skirt.

So what if she had gotten off on my mouth, the mouth of her best friend? So what if it was all right beside her sleeping boyfriend, too?

So what?

The sun is shining, the wind is blowing, the beach is beautiful, and hindsight's 20/20. Blah, blah, blah.

Whatever.

Sipping my Mimosa, I adjust my bug-eyed glasses higher on the slope of my nose. It's my third this morning – aside from that initial glass of straight champagne – and I'm kind of concerned that all I'm going to get out of this vacation is a nice, fleeting tan and a bout of unintentional alcoholism. My body is becoming immune to its effects and I find I have to ingest more and more of it in order to stay sane.

Rose is all over Emmett, way more than usual, actually going into the water with him, wading ankle deep while she pretends to enjoy watching him run and play.

I shake my head.

Please.

I know better.

Rose hates the ocean; she hates water in general, mostly because it messes with her hair and makeup. The latter something she doesn't even need. She's beautiful the way she is, though I'd never tell her that.

Our group spends the day in the sand, throwing the frisbee and tossing a football, breaking only to scarf down a cold-cut out of the cooler for lunch.

Edward Cullen pays too much attention to me; he always does. Coming up to ask me what I've been doing with my evenings, he tells me in so many words that he's disappointed in not seeing me out lately, almost looking as if he misses me.

What's there to miss?

We went on a couple dates, had one kiss. I may or may not have sucked his dick.

I don't know. I can't remember.

So sue me, I'd lost count.

Glancing over his burnt shoulder, I spot Rose sitting on Emmett's lap, her blue eyes scanning over us casually. I delusionally wonder if she's jealous, and kind of hope that she is. But I'm pretty sure she's just curious if I'm actually going to take her advice and give him a second chance.

The sun sets quickly while we talk about nothing in particular. He takes every opportunity he can to touch me. I think maybe I want him to, maybe just for tonight. I'm sick of touching myself and if fuzzy memory is starting to serve, he has a pretty long cock.

Just like Meatloaf, it's all coming back to me now.

Jerking my head, I grab his hand to lead him up to my room. His mouth is latched onto my neck, his hands crammed under the triangles of my top before we even hit the front door. I turn around to press my back against the wood, the humidity leaving it damp and cool against my heated skin. It feels like his skin, sweaty and chilled from the combination of sea water and breeze. His eyes are the warmest thing about him, the green in them sparking a small flame in the pit of my stomach. I untie my top from behind my neck, letting it fall to hang around my waist. I'm sure to keep eye contact while making him lick a nipple.

Twisting the brass handle, we trip through the threshold, both kicking off our sandy flip flops in a tangled mess of limbs and lips as we fall breathlessly onto the unmade bed.

He's speedy and impatient, pecking dry kisses down my torso while simultaneously stripping me of my skirt and suit bottom. Throwing them aside, he spreads me wide, kneeling down to spit on my pussy, spreading his saliva with the flat of his tongue.

Tugging on his hair, I force him to crawl up my body, not wanting him down there any longer than he wants to be. I know what he wants. He wants what I want. He wants to feel a warm body underneath him. He wants to come.

I can taste myself all over his messy lips, one hand wrapping around his hard cock and the other guiding his hips to mine. I suck in a sharp breath as he pushes into me, pressing my head back into the mattress.

I smile up at the ceiling when I realize I was right.

He is big.

Moaning and mewling, I allow him to pound away.

I let him get excited, but not too excited before stilling him flush against my mound with both my hands and feet.

Ladies first, big boy.

Rolling my hips, I push him off and out of me, reaching out for his wrist to pull him back down onto the bed. I situate myself on top of him, easily sliding his length back in

I just sit on it.

And fuck, it feels good.

Like, really, really good.

I barely rock above him, feeling how deep his cock hits. I swear I can feel it in my stomach, hard and throbbing. It pokes teasingly at that neglected spot deep inside of me, building a steady pressure that pops and explodes.

I'm not even moving when my first orgasm rips through me. I brace my palms against his pecs as my eyes roll into the back of my head and my entire body shakes, my only grounding support his large chest and his hands that are digging into my hips.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Did you just …"

"Yeah."

Could probably … again just sitting here.

Just give me a minute.

"Shit," he breathes. "That was hot." He runs his hands slowly up and down my waist.

I clench around him and he twitches.

"Mmm … Yeah."

Stretching back, I start to rock my hips again.

Bringing my hands up over my head, I release my hair from the high bun. It falls down my back, nearly touching us where we both meet.

I moan and he curses, bucking up into me like an impatient little boy. What he doesn't know is that he's got a while to go. His dick is like a magic wand and I'm not done bouncing on it yet.

"You like it when I fuck your cock, baby?" I coo, lifting up and sitting back down, wiggling as I jam our hips together.

Moaning, Edward digs his fingers into my flesh, pulling back into the mattress before pushing up into me. We both groan loudly. His curses become more incomprehensible the faster he bounces me up and down on his lap, repeatedly pounding that ridiculously long cock into me.

Fuck, homeboy's gonna make me come again.

Heat surges through my spine, causing it to curve back. Edward sits up to hold me, wrapping both arms around my waist and I hug him around the neck.

His cheek is resting against my chest and I can feel the vibration from his mumbled curses. All it takes is three more hard pumps and we're both coming. Writhing and moaning, grinding sloppily into each other's needy hips. Heavy breaths fill the otherwise silent room as he tightens his grip, riding out the jerky aftershocks of a really good orgasm.

Fuck me.

My two weren't too bad either.

His skin has warmed up significantly since we fucked and it feels nice, so I let him hold me a while, my head resting on the top of his. I try to picture us together, but come up short of anything that isn't sexually based. The fact of the matter is I don't know him, never gave myself a chance to get to know him, and probably never will. I'm too self absorbed, forever selfish and cynical, tending to look at people more as hassles rather than human or even remotely interesting equals.

I don't know anybody, really, except for Rose. Living in such cramped confines with a person, you're kind of forced to get to know them, ya know? Bond and shit.

Prying his flushed cheek from my boob, Edward kisses me softly over where my heart should be, his fingers lightly skimming the skin across my back. A warmth blooms in my chest, spreading out to my limbs that causes me to feel queasy. I fake a cramp, giving me a good enough excuse to suddenly climb off of him. I don't bother getting dressed, leaving him on the bed to go to the bathroom and clean up. I take my time hoping he has some sort of sixth sense and realizes, without me having to tell him, that I want him to get out of here. But no such luck. When I come back out he's still sitting on the bed in his black board shorts.

I hope he isn't planning on staying.

"Well, that was fun," I hedge.

Now get the fuck out.

"Yeah."

There's a long awkward pause where I'm just standing there naked, watching him scratch an itch on his brow.

"Yeah …"

Toeing the nasty, terracotta carpet, I cross my arms over my chest, bringing one hand up to my mouth to nibble nervously on my thumb. Lifting his gaze from the floor, he runs it up my legs, hovering over my landing strip before snapping it up to meet my eyes. The silence is a killer. I don't think I've ever been so unnerved in all my life. The last thing I want to be is rude, but damn.

"Well-"

"Bella-"

Of course we start at the same time.

"It's your room, you go first," he offers like a perfect gentleman.

"I, uh …" Looking out at the moon, I fake a yawn. "S'getting kinda late isn't it?"

Nine o'clock, tops. I am so bad at this.

Quirking a brow, he shoots it at the ground, a misplaced amusement lacing his tone and twisting that handsome face.

"If you want me to leave, all you gotta do is say so."

I'm taken back by his open approach. Isn't he supposed to want to leave? Shouldn't he have been gone long before I even stepped out of the john?

"No, it's not that. It's just-"

"Bullshit."

Pushing off the bed, he stands, clenching and unclenching his fists. The movement sends a ripple up the muscle in his arms, the shear feralness of it shooting a shiver down my spine. He's a fighter like Emmett, built to pummel. But I'm not scared. Just the opposite. I'm turned the hella on.

"You know, I fucking like you, Bella. Like, really fucking like you," he confesses, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck from side to side. The muscles in his shoulders jump anxiously, his glare nearly knocking me off my feet. I back up against the cold wood of the dresser as he stalks closer, only looking up when I feel his finger on the underside of my chin.

"And I think you like me, too, Bella," he guesses, and he's right.

Of course he's right. I have no reason not to like him. He's a nice guy. A nice guy with big muscles and a long dick who can make me come like a motherfucker. What's not to like?

"Am I right? You like me?" he asks, trailing his finger down the side of my neck and chest to circle the pad over my nipple.

I like how you look.

How you make me feel.

How you touch me.

Licking my lips, I swallow, trying on a little honesty of my own. "I don't even know you."

Moving further down my stomach, he switches to the outer side of his hand. The skin there feels more worn and rough. I like it rough.

"Fair enough." Tilting his head, he runs his hand back up the center of my torso, lightly cupping my neck before tilting my chin up to look at him. "Would you like to?" he asks. "Or is this just strictly about my cock?"

His green eyes hold mine while his hand holds my chin up. When I don't say anything, he drops it, turning his head and rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, cool."

Without another glance, he walks away from me, giving me what I want with a failed slam of the door. I flinch even though it catches on the carpet, my back still glued to the dresser long after he's gone.

I toss and turn that night, the look on Edward's face too vivid to shut out by just closing my eyes.

I'm dry as a motherfucking bone and I hate it. I hate feeling this way, all tied up and twisted and over a boy.

Stupid boy.

Stupid boy and his blunt honesty.

He rocked me so fucking hard – physically and mentally. Took me for a goddamn ride.

Man.

Homeboy can fuck.

My eyes snap open when the door clicks shut, and I hear the soft scrape of the chain being slid into place. I lie perfectly still, watching her as she rounds the end of my bed to come to stand at the side.

She hovers there, silent for a moment. I wonder if she can even tell that I'm awake until she briefly looks me in the eye, her mouth dropping open.

"I …" she croaks, flattening her hands against her tank-covered stomach. I just stare up at her as she stares down.

"Bella …"

"Take off your panties."

She hesitates, so I reach out to hook my finger into the waistband of her boy shorts.

Biting her lip, she stumbles forward, bracing herself on the bed while she shimmies then kicks them the rest of the way off. When she huffs a laugh in my face, I can smell the reason she's here. It sends a shot of thrill straight through me.

So fucked up.

"You wanna sit on my face, Rose?"

Biting that lip again, she nods. I run my hand up the inside of her thigh, encouraging her to crawl onto the bed and reverse cowboy my face.

Rose is a greedy, I see. The slutty, little thing's ass is already slick and wet from the come that's been weeping from her center.

Did that bitch seriously get fucked then slink over here to get off?

Annoyance filters through every one of my pores as I dip my tongue into the creamy fluid, an achy heat rushing to my own pussy when I taste Emmett for the first time. A fleeting fantasy of me sucking his cock makes me kind of want to do it. Make him come harder than Rose ever could, bring him crawling to my room, horny and desperate at all hours of the night – like his girlfriend here.

Maybe I'll try it. Catch him off guard and in a dark, secluded place – just drop to my knees and pull out his big, fat dick.

I know it's fat because Rose has shown me the pictures. Which I'm sure was her way of trying to rub her BF's big chubby in my face. Though little does she know, I like 'em long, not wide. No wonder she is sneaking into my room, all fucked and unsatisfied, until I let her sit on my face, that is. My tongue can reach farther than that stickless corndog any day.

Swallowing a good load of his come, I spread the rest over her clit with my tongue, my puckered lips latching onto the swollen flesh.

Rose isn't too sure about the suction. Her hips buck away from me, but I suck harder, holding her in place as I slide my arms under the creases in her thighs. Sucking in a sharp breath, she struggles to shift her knees further apart, her first orgasm hitting her faster than she anticipated.

Good girl.

Holding her tight, I lap at her clit, smiling against her cunt as she bucks and mewls, trying her hardest to get away from me. I decide to go easy on her but just for a moment, giving her reprieve with a kiss to the crease of each ass cheek. She jerks with each touch of my lips, a pained cry piercing from her throat when I bury my tongue into her ass, then slide it down to her juicy opening. I tongue fuck her until she's begging me again, and then I replace my tongue with my fingers. My middle finds that spongy spot, the one that makes her spread her legs just a little bit wider and she rotates her hips in search of my tongue.

The span of her thighs has brought her head closer to my pussy. I can feel her breath through the thin fabric, but resist bucking up into her face as I scoot further down the bed to press my tongue against her clit.

I'm not so delusional as to think that this uptight bitch can squirt, but I'm hoping, damn near breaking my wrist in order to try and make her. I'm predictably disappointed, however, when her legs start to quiver and she comes silently, her head turned into my thigh.

There's an awkward silence as she shakily fumbles to get to her feet. Achy, I've already got my hand down my panties as she pulls hers back on, eyeing the movement before turning to leave, and silently shutting the door behind her.

Uh, you're welcome.

The block party's hoppin', the bass bumpin' and I'm flyin' high as a muthafuckin' kite. The smoke siphons through my nose and mouth, its invisible vapors seeping into my pores, leaving me nice and tingly. Felix's finger's are frisky, creeping under my long skirt and higher up the inside of my thigh. I spread so he can snuggle between them, pressing the seam of his jeans against my center. Those frisky fingers, they dig into my hips.

"Last hit."

Pinching the paper between his thumb and pointer finger, he flips the end, holding it up to my lips. "You wanna share it?"

A playful mirth fills his bloodshot eyes when I nod. I lick my lips as he brings the blunt back to his mouth, gumming the end, and sucking in deep before leaning in close. I part my lips as he releases the held smoke from his lungs, his tongue rolling out with the gray, transparent fog of fun and games.

I breathe it in, as I barely touch my lips to his, a certain excitement stirring inside my chest. His tongue is inside my mouth, but I don't touch it. It's not that I'm nervous or anything. It's not that I don't want to. It's just that I've never kissed Felix. Not even when he looks at me like I'm the only girl around.

When he laughs, I laugh. When he frowns, I frown, and then we both smile and laugh some more. We're friends. And the sad truth is that I like him. Still daydream about him and his greasy hair sometimes, how I want to straddle his lap and distract him while he tries to make a sale amidst his famous, pineapple print couch.

For the longest time I wanted to be his girl, have lazy sex on the daily and fall asleep to his slow drawl as he mumbled on and on about his busted conspiracy theories into the phone – my own nasal-laden lullaby.

My skirt's bunched up between us, held in place by his narrow waist. He flicks ash into the sand, placing both hands back on my hips. I wonder why he won't kiss me, why he's never kissed me, why he's never even tried. Why not? I want to know what he tastes like.

My pussy aches while he slides his fingers under the edges of my panties, his large hands palming my bare ass. His eyes show me all the dirty things he wants to do to me, roaming everywhere but the place he hasn't dared to touch yet.

Always playing games this one, keeping me on my toes, and coming back for more.

He's no fool.

But then again, neither am I.

And that's why I keep it to myself that I want him to touch me, that I want him to kiss me, to pull my panties to the side so we can finally fuck properly. No, I don't tell him any of those things, 'cause I can't. I won't.

"Hey man, wassup?"

I push him away as he loosens his grip, taking the opportunity to jump down from the floodwall when he turns to shake wassup's hand.

He doesn't ask me where I'm going or if he'll see me later and I don't expect him to. It would probably ruin all my fantasies of him if he ever did anyway, so I just keep walking, acting as if I'm not bothered by it because I'm not. The weed's still sharp in my system and I'm feeling okay for now.

With a smile on my lips and a sway to my hips, I weave through the maze of people. Somehow I've managed to avoid not only Rose and Emmett but Edward Cullen all day. However, my good fortune comes to a jolting end when I spot the arguing couple some feet away.

Rose's blonde hair is high on her head, tossing from side to side along with her finger. She pokes it at Emmett, and I chuckle a little bit at the look on his face. He's completely flustered, has no idea what he did. Probably nothing. It takes about that much to get Rose all riled.

She storms off, her bun bopping along in the breeze, as she leaves Emmett behind. A sly smile tugs at the corner of my lips, and I pull a tendril free from my mouth, picking up the first red cup I happen to walk by. I'm too sober to go through with this, so I down the mystery contents, puckering unattractively when I realize it's straight, orange vodka.

Who the fuck drinks straight orange vodka?

It's about as bitter as my plans, but I chug the last of it anyway, following Emmett through the fluorescent-lit breezeway and into the shadows. Rounding the corner, I slide up beside him and we lean against the far side of the chipped staccato. It feels nice and cool on my over-heated back.

"Where's Rose?" I ask, knowing good and well she's sulking in their room, impatiently waiting for him to come and kiss her tight ass all better.

"Fuck if I know. The room, probably." One of his peeling shoulders lifts. "Not like I give a fuck," he mutters under his breath.

Riiight.

"No?"

Exhaling loudly, he lays his head back, lulling it to the side to look down at me.

His lidded eyes roam over my features, briefly drifting down to my chest before he closes them. He bangs the back of his head lightly against the wall behind us a few times.

"Edward's sweet on you. You know that?" Sniffing, he wipes his nose on his forearm before glancing back down at me.

"Yeah, I know." My eyes drop to his crotch, slowly roaming up his ripped torso. They pause on his Adam's apple to watch him swallow before meeting his stare. I shrug.

"Maybe I'm sweet on somebody else."

Brow creasing, he looks pained and I almost feel guilty. Even though it's not entirely a lie, I'm definitely not talking about him.

"B …" It's whiny, his voice cracking at the end, and I look away, my heartbeat speeding when I feel his hot breath blowing against the top of my ear. I suddenly feel slightly nauseous. This is going way too far, and I can't do it. Don't want to do it, not anymore.

I scoot away along the sharp shards of paint, barely feeling them scratch the surface of my skin. I'm numb from the eyebrows down, stumbling over my own two feet when Emmett grabs a hold of my elbow to swiftly spin me around. One hand wrapping around my waist, his other grabs the back of my head. Crashing out head together, his mouth knocks my upper lip into my teeth, and I let out a squeal of pain, shoving at his shoulders. He only tightens his grip, his tongue pushing through with my muffled scream of protest. I almost forget myself, feeling a flash of sympathy for Rose. If this is how he kisses her …

Spinning us around, he pushes me up against the wall. I suck in a deep breath when he finally surrenders my mouth in pursuit of my neck. The scream for help gets stuck in my throat when Emmett flies back and off of me, his ass landing hard on the bubbling asphalt. The scene in front of my eyes is nothing but a blur of flying arms and legs.

Emmett moans in between curses, his hands coming up in surrender. The guy gives him another swift kick to the back before slowly approaching me, his hands out in front of him.

"Bella, it's me. It's Edward," he eases. "You okay?"

The concern in his eyes twists my stomach and I hum in affirmation, turning to walk away. My annoyance grows with every step he takes to keep up behind me. The slap of my flip-flops fades in and out as we wind our way through the crowd and up the stairs. I leave the door open and he closes it, unable to entirely shut out the soundtrack of all the sordid, summertime fun.

I want him to leave. I want him to be an asshole so I don't feel bad for wanting him to leave. I can't stand the way he's looking at me, as if I'll break, as if he cares, as if he has the right to.

What is it that he thinks he sees in me? There's nothing. It's hollow. I'm empty. I don't understand.

"Well, don't let me keep you." Turning my back to him, I toe off my flip flops. "It wasn't like I needed an escort or anything. I'm fine." I internally cringe at my tone, sounding more like a bitch than I mean to. I don't know why I'm so defensive and unwilling to let my guard down, especially around him – the one that legitimately wants me to.

It isn't like I've ever had my heart crushed before. I don't know what it feels like to be hurt. For as long as I can remember, I've simply always been this way, never able to play sensitive and actually act like the girl. My mom used to joke about how I was born bitter. Could have been invaded by the soul of a cranky, old cat lady for all we know. Shit.

When I find my comfy, worn sleep shirt, I turn back to find him leaning against the door jam, his barefeet crossed at the ankle and his big arms resting over his chest. The clench in his jaw makes the muscle in his neck jump and strain. My belly flutters when he swallows and his tongue pokes out to moisten his lips.

"You're fine." A pensive pinch in his brow, he nods at the ground. "Ya know, I'm sure you are, 'cause I see the way guys look at you," he says. "The way you let them touch you. Hell." Pushing off the door, he uncrosses his arms, using both to emphasize his point. "Emmett should have been the safest motherfucker for you to be around out there and even he was trying to get his hands up your skirt. Your best friend's boyfriend," he digs. "But as long as you're fine …" He hums a humorless laugh, and I offer him a sarcastic smile 'cause homeboy is really starting to piss me off.

"Yep, that's what I said. I'm fine. Just fucking great," I mock, taking a daring step closer to bait him with my big, dumb mouth. "And thank you so much for saving me from getting good and stuffed by my best friend's boyfriend's big, fat cock. That really would have been one unwelcome orgasm."

Eyes darkening, his nostrils flare, a pinched smile caving his lips. Those fists of his clench, sending a ripple up both of his arms and another wave of warmth between my legs.

"Now I'm gonna be hot and bothered all night, won't be able to sleep." Pushing past him, I turn down the covers, laying out my shirt to untie my top. My back to him, I shimmy out of my maxi skirt and bottoms, making sure to give my ass a nice shake. Looking over my shoulder, I slowly turn to face him, my shirt fisted at my side.

"Unless …"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you would like to give me one."

His eyes betray his stone-cold face. They roam over my body, hungry for another taste. The boy can't stay mad at naked me no matter how hard he tries. Licking his lips, he clears his throat. "Give you one what?"

"An orgasm."

He's nonplussed by my defensive vulgarity, almost as if he expects it. I feel foolish for trying to get a rise out of him, which only pisses me off more. I hate myself for trying to get him to hate me. I don't want him to hate me. I don't want to care if he does.

"You really want to fuck right now?" he asks, his hard gaze fixed on my face. He doesn't sound patronizing or surprised, more like curious and considering. My inner walls flutter, priming me with excitement at the thought of taking him again.

"I always want to fuck." you, I leave out, wondering if he's hard for me, if he feels that same burn deep inside his belly.

Audibly swallowing, my confession gives him pause, but his face remains stoic, the same, except for the tight clench in his jaw. He locks it shut along with his fists, his knuckles white with restraint. But I don't want his restraint. I don't need him to be a gentleman right now.

My annoyance grows the longer he remains silent, just standing there and staring at me like I owe him something.

I don't owe him anything. He's not my boyfriend.

"So, are we gonna do this or what? 'Cause if not you can go now," I dismiss him. Turning my back, I needlessly fluff a pillow.

"So what, either I fuck you or I can just get the fuck out? It's like that?"

"Yeah." Sitting down on the bed, I cross my legs, leaning back on my palms. "It's like that."

"Okay, okay," he nods, running his thumb and forefinger over his chin before pointing behind him in the direction of the door.

"Would you like me to send Emmett up?" he asked. "Let him finish what he started with, what was it? His big, fat cock?"

Tilting my head to the side, I give him a pestering smile. He's so cute when he's being condescending. "Would you? That'd be great."

His whole body hums with anger, those big muscles of his jumping in place. My heart races when he steps closer, and I instinctually uncross my legs.

"Yeah?" His voice is low and husky. He's a big, bad wolf on the prowl. Bracing one foot on the frame of the bed, I invite him to prey.

"Ye-" He cuts me off by grabbing the back of my knees, simultaneously sliding my ass forward and knocking me onto my back, to silence me for good with his mouth.

His eyes threaten when he pulls back, his hands working furiously at the buckle of his jeans, as he kneels between my thighs. My stomach flips when he fists the collar of his tee and pulls it over his head and I see the waist of his jeans riding a little lower than the elastic of his underwear, both tugged down over his hips.

"Anybody fucks you, it's gonna be me," he growls. "Understand?"

My voice gets lost in a dry swallow, my tongue poking out to wet my lips. I nod silently as he thrusts deep inside, unapologetic in the way he enters me, almost as if he hopes it hurts. But thankfully it doesn't. I'm so wet that he slips right in.

His piercing, green eyes hold me hostage. I want to, but can't look away, my brow creasing and my mouth dropping as he repeatedly drills into me. His narrow hips snap, slapping against my spread thighs.

I moan out as he pushes all the way in, pausing to give me a few, short pumps. I can feel him so deep inside me, the mushroomed head of his cock rocking back and forth over the soft, spongy spot that's ultimately going to make me come. He doesn't even have to touch my clit, just keep fucking me.

"Right there," I tell him, even though he already knows, slowing this thrusts momentarily to toy with my flow.

"Yeah?" he questions, hitting that special spot over and over, his lips barely moving as they softly rub against mine. "Right there?"

"Yeah."

He teases me nice and slow, teetering me on the brink before his movements become heated.

Cradling my neck in both hands, he thumbs a cheek while simultaneously caressing my jaw.

I feel the numbness spread upward from my toes, licking along the back of my legs to warm the center of my thighs.

It's intimate.

Too intimate as clench around him, gasping and seizing, my back lifting off the bed and bending into a soft arch. My soft stomach rubs against his abdomen as I writhe uncontrollably beneath him.

His hands beg me to watch him – watch me, as my backside lowers to the mattress allowing his lips to crash to mine. He leaves his eyes open, his brow pinched. His facial features subtly morph from a look of concentration to that of immensely pleasurable pain.

He grunts against my mouth, feeding me his breath with each hard, erratic thrust of his needy hips. I let him kiss me as he comes, filling me with warmth from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. I can feel his orgasm, like really feel it, almost as good as my own.

I keep a death grip on his wrists while he lowers his forehead to mine. The sweat from our foreheads intermix and mingle along with the skin of our overheated bodies. I only loosen my grip when he lets go of my face to slide his hand under my waist and hoist us both up in the bed. He nudges my nose then kisses my lips. I kiss him back chastly before rolling onto my side as he climbs off of me and molds his chest to my spine. I don't have the heart to tell him to leave; I don't even think I really want to, as our legs tangle, our fingers twist and I stare blankly at the door before shutting my eyes.

I wake sometime in the middle of the night to his hand running over my hip and his lips kissing down the back of my neck. My stomach flips when he parts my legs, resting one over his thigh to easily push into me from behind.

He fucks me slow and soft.

His groans and grunts ultimately make me come. I'm so turned on by the sounds he makes that I'm still aching when I stir. I consider waking him for one last go around before we all head out, but decide against it. I hate goodbyes almost as much as I hate hellos.

As quietly as I can, I pull on my outfit from last night and pack my bag. His soft snores fill the room and I more than once find myself stopping to watch him sleep.

Pinching my lips together, it takes some effort to wipe the smile off my face, as I take a sweeping glance around the room. Convinced I'm not leaving anything behind, I reach for the door and crack it open, taking one, last look at him over my shoulder before heading out to catch my own cab 'cause you know what they say …

What happens in South Padre …

To be continued ...

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Happy Birthday, Jess! I love you!