Authors note; beta'd by my friend Frannie, mistakes all mine.
The warm tropical water laps gently along the golden sand, lazy buzzing creatures flying past my head as I examine the perfection that was Isabella Swan. She is magnificent; pure feminine beauty, but I think I'd rather die a horrible death than tell her.
She was lying on a sun lounger on the section of beach that belongs to us, her curvy body, perfectly proportioned, and mouthwatering in a white, halter neck bikini. Her skin looks like golden satin. Her perpetually glossed lips and the red nail polish on her toes contrast beautifully with that honeyed tan. Her long hair is in a very messy bun on top of her head, tendrils swaying in the gentle breeze that blows the palm trees above our heads. The rustling of their leaves blending into harmony with the waves soft song.
It's fucking paradise, even more so because she is here with us.
Our parents leave us alone, so I'm free to drool in peace.
My dark glasses hide my staring, ogling gaze, but not my smirk as I catch Isabella watching me while I strip off my red, button down and lie close to her, at an angle, so that I can still see her face. Her slow answering smile riles me without even trying. It's almost as if she is always one step ahead of me and that she knows something I don't.
I don't like not being in control, it fucks with my head, and that annoys me.
We have been in the pristine town of St Helena for one day and already I'm dying.
Literally fucking dying to get hold of my stepsister.
She ignores me for the most part; except for those few times I've caught her watching me.
I don't have a clue what she thinks of me, although, I imagine it's favourable. I mean why shouldn't it be? Hundreds of women couldn't be wrong.
She greets me in a soft, husky voice and answers when I speak to her about trivial things but not once have we had a real conversation.
So I jump when her soft, husky voice asks me to pass the jug of Margaritas sitting beside me on the small table next to my lounger.
I stare at her, before sitting up and lifting her glass to refill it.
She sits up too and tugs at her skimpy bikini top, and I stop breathing as her luscious breasts nearly spill out of the tight confines. Her cleavage is mesmerising, so much so that I realize I'm no longer pouring, just simply sitting there staring at her chest.
I'm fucked off with myself as I finish pouring her drink and practically throw it onto the table beside her.
She smirks. "Thanks." She offers, voice still husky and enticing. "Edward, I'm bored, what do you usually do for fun around here?"
I lie back and hide my shock at the longest sentence she's said to me since we had met.
I shrug nonchalantly, " I usually find a local to play with." I said deliberately blunt, I wanted to shock her.
She didn't look shocked as she reached for her tiny straw bag and drew out a pot of vanilla lip-gloss. I watched, dry-mouthed, as she took a small amount of the oily substance on the tip of her index finger and slowly rubbed it into that generous pout of hers.
"So, if that's what you like to do, why don't we up the stakes a little?" She asked.
I grinned at her, "How would we do that?"
"I'll choose your target, and you'll seduce whoever it is..." she whispered, "Then, you'll tell me all about it."
