Description: Edward Cullen is the only son of Washington's most celebrated criminal lawyer (Carlisle). His mother passed away when he was 12, and he hasn't been the same since. When Carlisle remarries, Edward is torn between hating his new stepmother, and wanting to sleep with her daughter, his new stepsister, Rosalie. While their parents are on their Honeymoon, they decide to take a road trip for kicks, and meet some interesting people along the way. Do they really care about each other? Or will they find that while lust is strong, love is stronger? Can Edward overcome his painful past - and habit-ridden present - and discover what he's needed all along? Can Rosalie overcome her insecurities and allow herself to be happy? AU/AH/OOC Rated M for a reason! Lemons, lemons lemons! Drug use, and language.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, the wonderful Stephenie Meyer does! I'm just having my fun with them =)
Chapter 1: Wedding
Edward's POV
I stood behind my father at the altar, as we waited for his soon-to-be wife to make her way down the aisle. The large church was packed to the brim with guests; some were forced to stand along the back wall behind the last row of seats. Photographers were scattered throughout the room, each vying for the best angles of the ceremony. Everyone was dressed exquisitely, which wasn't surprising. My father was the highest paid criminal lawyer in Washington, and that, combined with the substantial inheritance from my grandfather, made him one of the richest men in the state. Celebrities, politicians, fucking royalty even, were scattered throughout the crowd, but I barely noticed. I only had eyes for Rosalie.
Lauren Stanley, the bride-to-be, had only one redeeming quality; her daughter. Rosalie Stanley was the hottest chick I had ever laid eyes on. The fact that she'd be my step-sister in a matter of minutes was the icing on the cake. My blood didn't flow through her veins, therefore – in my mind at least – she was fair game. And the way her ass looked in that dress... I had to shift my lower half away from the crowd to hide the growing bulge in my pants. She elicited that reaction from me almost daily, and she used it to her advantage as much as possible.
As she made her way up the aisle, her eyes locked with mine, and she gave me a smile I'd seen a million times before. The "I'm eye-fucking you, are you eye-fucking me?" smile. I answered with my own lopsided grin, and subtly gestured below my waist to all the proof she'd ever need. She winked as she made her way to the bride's side, and took her place opposite me. Her dress, a pink strapless number, showcased her tits so perfectly it was all I could do not to rip it off her body and take her right then and there. No, I had to be a perfect gentleman today. My father had assured me he'd make it worth my while if I behaved.
My father's "gifts," or bribes as I knew them to be, were definitely an incentive to play nice. Last time I'd been asked to behave, for some charity function at the Chateau Bijou downtown, I'd gotten an all expenses paid trip to Amsterdam for a month. He didn't even ask questions when I was all but barred from returning to the city, and returned home in a private jet accompanied by some ridiculous Dutch cop with an 80's haircut gone horribly, horribly wrong. No, my father pretty much took the "don't ask, don't tell" stance with me. That was probably a good thing.
The organist struck the first few chords of the bridal march, and we all turned to look towards the back of the church. Lauren emerged through the flower-laden doorway, looking every bit the trailer trash she was. I knew her well enough to be one of the very few who remained unsurprised at her appearance, but she took it further than I imagined she would. She was in a god awful white halter dress, most of which was see-through, with a slit that opened somewhere around her crotch. Some people were shocked, but most seemed offended that a woman marrying this high in society would dress like that. Lauren's mother, a crabby old bitch named Jessica, was blotting her heavily lined eyes with a Kleenex, and beaming like this was the second coming of Jesus Christ himself. How a woman of her age, and weight, could manage to wear a full mink coat to a wedding in June, was beyond me.
Lauren, who walked herself down the aisle, came to a stop beside my father and took his hand eagerly. I could all but see the dollar signs in her eyes, and I felt the familiar twinge of guilt as I watched my father smile lovingly at her, oblivious to it all. She was a good actress, but she didn't have me fooled. To be honest, I probably would have said something to my dad before it got this far, but nailing her daughter was something I needed to do.
The ceremony passed quickly; neither wanted to recite their own vows. When they were announced as husband and wife, Lauren shot her mom a victorious smile before throwing her arms around my father's neck and kissing him with all her might. Rosalie pretended to gag behind her mother's back, and I laughed silently at her display. When the bride and groom made their way down the aisle, she linked her arm with mine and I lead her out of the church to the limo that awaited us. I had arranged for us to be alone in the car, hell, I was hoping for a little action before the reception. What can I say? I'm all for quick results.
"So brother," Rosalie purred, sliding closer to me on the seat. "Tell me what you think about your new sister."
"My new sister," I replied, sliding my fingers down her arm, "looks really uncomfortable in her dress. Maybe she should take it off for a while..." I trailed off, half gaging her reaction to my words, half hoping she'd finally give in and sleep with me.
"Oh Edward," she sighed, moving her hand from my knee to cover the bulge in my pants. It twitched under her hand and she grabbed it tightly, her eyes dark and full of the lust and want I'd been showing her for months. I groaned loudly at her touch, and she smiled triumphantly. "It wouldn't be right, not on our parents' wedding day! Maybe another time, though."
She squeezed my cock once more before she slid her hand away, and started rummaging through her purse. It was hard, but I managed to erase the look of shock from my face before she looked at me again, smiling sweetly. Sure, she was a huge prick tease, but I had to keep my head on straight if I was ever going to seal the deal.
"You're too much, Rose." I flashed her a quick grin, then filled my head with thoughts of her grandmother. Nothing could work better than that, to erase my little – uh – problem down there.
I spent the last part of the ride watching Rose fuss over her appearance. She was vain, and rightfully so, but seeing it always managed to spark a little annoyance in me. Besides, the girl looked amazing first thing in the morning. The rumpled hair, skimpy shirt just a bit off center, shorts riding low on her hips... Okay Edward, just stop. Jessica, Jessica, Jessica... Ugh, much better.
We pulled up to the banquet hall at last, and I followed Rose out of the limo. I had to practice my own personal mantra again (Jessica, Jessica, Jessica) before I felt comfortable enough to go inside. Rosalie would surely be the death of me. A few guests mingled in the hallways with tall glasses of champagne hanging from their fingers. I said a quick hello to each of them, not knowing anyone well enough to linger longer than needed.
The reception room – which was surprisingly tastefully decorated – was filled with the chatter of the hundreds of guests who arrived before us. My father and Lauren, who sat side by side at the head table, were deep in conversation. She'd changed into a more appropriate white pantsuit, but it was still low-cut enough to flaunt her ridiculous fake breasts. The woman could make Pamela Anderson blush, for fuck's sake. I would never, ever understand what my father saw in her.
Eventually, I found Rosalie talking closely with a guy I recognized from a movie I saw last week, and after a quick hello, managed to pull her to the head table with me to take our seats. The food was served minutes later, and I was thankful for the distraction. Having to sit with my stepmother on one side, and her dreadful mother on the other, made my dick pull itself further into my body than I was comfortable with. The meal passed all too quickly, and after the second round of drinks were served, the speeches began.
This was what I hated most about weddings; the speeches. Half drunk idiots, using their liquid courage to pour out words of encouragement, and happiness for the couple, wound up sounding inappropriate and crude. I had to plaster a fake smile on my face to avoid cringing when one such guest used their opportunity to talk at length about her hopes for the "happy couple's" sex life. Once the laughter died down, Jessica stood beside me, and I half turned in her direction, wishing I could hide under the table like I had when I was younger. Her speech didn't last long, and after some sickeningly sweet words, she sat down again to a polite round of applause. I drank down the last of my champagne, and frantically searched through my breast pockets for my cue cards when I realised in horror that I'd left them on my desk this morning. Oh well, I'd just have to wing it.
I stood, and clinked my knife against my empty glass gently as everyone returned their attention to the front of the room, and to me. I cleared my throat, and glanced over at my father, his eyes silently pleading with me to be nice. This gift better be fucking amazing, I thought to myself before rising to my feet.
"Good evening, everyone." I paused to smile at our guests, who stared unwaveringly back at me. It was times like these I was glad to be free of stage fright. "Weddings are such wonderful occasions, and nothing is more wonderful than seeing my family complete, again." The words were met with an "aww" from most of the female guests, and I saw my father relax noticeably out of the corner of my eye. "When my father met Lauren, I was ecstatic!" Mostly because her daughter was so damn bangable. "Things progressed rather quickly, and I found comfort in knowing he would be happy again." My father tensed again, but for a different reason this time.
My mother – and his late wife – Elizabeth, passed away when I was 12. She had suffered from breast cancer for years, and finally succumbed. For a long time, I wasn't sure either of us would be able to move past losing her. She was the glue that held us together for so long, and when she died, it felt like a lot of things had come undone. My father started drinking, heavily, and I lost the gentle, sweet demeanor my mother praised me for when she was alive. I've often thought that when I lost her, I lost my humanity, too. Neither of us were the same afterwards, and it was only now, six years later, that he seemed to be coming back into himself.
I finished my speech quickly, adding a bit more humor to help my father forget the subtle reference to my mother, and sat down to a loud round of applause. Lauren looked pleased with me, and I grudgingly allowed her a quick hug before I turned back to drown my sorrows in more champagne. The words from my speech seemed to ring false in Jessica's ears (who would have known her to be so perceptive?), and she alternated between glaring at me, and fiddling with her napkin uncomfortably. I couldn't care less; that old bitch could blow me.
The evening seemed to go on forever, and I was dying to leave. This wedding was anything but a happy occasion for me. I finally noticed people start to say their goodbyes around 12, and I got up to leave with the rest of them.
"Not so fast, son." My dad stood up, and motioned for Lauren to stay where she was when she got up to come with us. "I'll be right back."
We walked in silence for a while, but made small talk with several guests on the way out. When we were finally alone, my father turned to me and placed a small box in my hand.
"Edward, I know this isn't easy for you. It's not easy for me either, but I've been alone for so long..." He trailed off, looking guilty despite the happiness I could feel eminating from him. "I just wanted to say thank you. You kept your word, and in return, I have kept mine."
I looked down at the box in my hand. It wasn't very big, and it looked like something more suitable for jewelery, than a gift for your son. I untied the ribbon, and slowly lifted lid, feeling more than a little apprehensive. There were a set of keys inside, and I tried to hide my confusion, but I never did get much past my father.
"Over there." He pointed to a cherry red Jaguar Boxster, parked away from the rest of the cars in the lot. I had to resist the urge to squeal like a girl, and settled on hugging and thanking him profusely. He seemed a little embarrassed, and left to go back inside after a few more minutes of my grovelling. I practically danced over to the car, and nearly fell on my knees in worship. My father and I spent hours going over car magazines in our spare time, and the only one we had ever agreed on was the one sitting in front of me now. The door opened with a satisfying click, and – I swear to God – I purred. This baby would land me so much ass.
Gossip Girl, anyone? I'm kinda thinking a Sebastian/Chuck Bass (is there really much of a difference?) mix for Edward would be fun. What do you think?