A/N: Okay so I lied...there will be a THIRD AND FINAL chap for this story haha and it will go up next week! Thank you soooo much for all the support and reviews :) Enjoy! I'm on tumblr ~ thegirlonpeetamellark

My vibrator is going to break.

I have been pleasuring myself to images of Peeta Mellark for the past three nights, and I'm still horny as hell. I've been thinking about the way his lips felt against my skin and how hot his breath was when he whispered those words into my ear.

I've imagined his perfect chest glistening with sweat, as he fucks me into oblivion.

I hate him.

The shame and frustration I feel over letting him affect me like this is eating away at me. I can't be fantasizing about fucking my best friend's ex-boyfriend. Even though he didn't cheat on her, he still hurt her, and he is the exact opposite of every guy I've ever been with. He's egotistical and pushy and probably thinks he's God's gift to woman.

I push the thoughts away though and slide the cool, smooth surface of my vibrator over my clit. I shudder and bite down on my lip. I don't know what's wrong with me, but imagining his rock solid body and his cocky little smirk and the way he pisses me off like no other guy I've ever met before just makes me even wetter.

I gasp as I move the vibrator down my folds, coating it in my arousal before pushing it inside me.

"Oh fuck!" I cry out, the light vibrations already bringing my body close to the edge.

I thrust the device inside me without my usual gentle strokes or hesitation. Peeta Mellark certainly wouldn't fuck me gently.

I close my eyes and picture what his cock might look like.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I shout, writhing around in bed, realizing that I've lost any and all inhibitions. I palm my breasts and pluck at my nipples. Thinking about that stupid asshole has me so wet it's running down my legs.

I find myself wishing I had the real thing right here, so I could ride his cock and take what I wanted from him.

I'm moaning uncontrollably, whimpering and feeling the tension build and build, working towards that boiling point.

"Oh god!" I scream, as I pull the vibrator out and just barely skim it across my clit. I shatter into a trembling, panting mess.

The euphoria washes over me, but quickly fades once my brain can think clearly again. The shame returns, and it upsets and infuriates me.

I get up to use the bathroom and clean up, and when I return to my bed my phone is light up with a message on my nightstand.

I read the message in disbelief.

Peeta: Guess we both like to sleep with our windows open. The sound of you fucking yourself is the hottest damn thing I've ever heard. I'm so fucking hard right now.

I swallow thickly and squirm, as I realize I'm actually getting wet again.

I hesitate for a second and run my fingers over the screen of my phone, contemplating my answer.

I'm about to type out a message telling him to get up here and fuck my brains out when he sends another text.

Peeta: I bet you were thinking about my cock just now, huh? How bad do you want me?

Just like that, my annoyance and irritation flare up again, overpowering any attraction I feel for him.

I shoot him back a response.

Katniss: Don't flatter yourself. Your cock has nothing on my vibrator. Good night.

I try to fall asleep, thinking about Peeta Mellark, and everything I hate, and grudgingly like about him.

"I think the universe is trying to tell us something."

I spin on my heels and find Peeta Mellark standing there dressed in a suit. I bite my lip and take in his attire. Fuck, he looks good.

"What? That you're officially stalking me?"

He laughs and moves beside me, leaning against the bar. "Nope, just another happy coincidence. My friend dragged me to this charity thing tonight because his girlfriend is out of town. How did you get stuck coming?"

"My boss insisted," I reply through gritted teeth, looking around the room for any signs of Haymitch. Maybe once I see him and show him I actually came and made an effort I can get the hell out of here.

"Well, either way I'm happy to see you."

I feel something flutter in my stomach and I glance over at Peeta, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It's been almost two weeks since our little text conversation, and I haven't heard or seen him since.

A couple of times I was even tempted to drop by his place or shoot him a message, but I must have been losing my mind. Apparently I just got too used to his flirting and attention.

I open my mouth when something jostles me from behind. I stumble forward a few steps, Peeta's hands reaching out to steady me. The strength and warmth of his touch registers more than anything.

I turn around to find a guy who looks like he should still be doing keg stands in college gaping at me.

"Oh fuck, my bad." He's hammered and staring at my tits. "Sorry girl, let me buy you a drink," he leers at me, reaching out to run a hand up and down my arm. "You're fucking hot, you know that?"

I flinch in disgust and pull my arm away from his grasp. I'm about to tell him to fuck off when I feel a pair of warm arms circle my waist.

"Back off dude," I hear Peeta say from behind me, "she's with me." The guy's eyes go wide, and he immediately steps back and holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Damn alright, chill out," he says, muttering something nasty under his breath before walking away.

I force myself to pull away from Peeta's arms and turn around to face him, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Another reason not to hate my guts," he smiles. "I'm good at fending off assholes like that."

Before I can say anything, he grabs my hand and pulls me out towards the dance floor. I think about resisting for a moment, but I don't want to look childish and immature by running away from him.

He pulls me into his arms, one hand pressing against my lower back so our bodies are flush, and using his other hand to cup my own, softly rubbing the pad of his thumb against my palm.

"I can also dance pretty well too," he whispers in my ear, bringing back memories of a few weeks ago, when he kissed my neck and told me about his other talents.

I take a deep shuddering breath and try to regain my composure. I force myself to think about this objectively, and not get lost in a haze of lust and desire from the feel of his hands on me and his body close to mine.

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper right back. "What do you want from me?"

He pulls back to look at me, studying my face with the most serious expression I've ever seen from him.

"You have no idea, do you?"

I frown at his cryptic question and try another approach. "Okay, maybe you aren't a bad guy, but I usually don't go for the arrogant, charming dude who can get a girl in bed with just a few words."

He laughs and when he grins at me the sight almost takes my breath away. He is so beautiful it hurts.

"You should stop fighting it, sweetheart," he tells me with a pleased look. "I already heard through my open window how much you want it," he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

I scowl at him. "That doesn't help your case," I say, pulling away from him.

He tugs me back to him. "Okay, you're right, I'm sorry."

I soften a bit at his apology. We sway to the music together for a few moments in silence, and I actually find myself relaxing, melting into his touch. I take a deep breath and rest my head against his shoulder. I can feel him suck in a breath, and I can't help the small thrill at the thought I can affect him like that.

"There's still Madge," I whisper after a few moments of silence.

He stiffens at the mention of her name.

"Look, it's been six months and yeah, we didn't end on the best of terms, but I was honest and upfront with her. We would have broken up eventually anyways with her moving across the country."

I listen to the urgency and openness in his words, like he's almost pleading with me to see his side of things, to not hold that against him forever.

I decide to push the Madge thing off to the side and out of my head for the time being. I'll deal with it if and when the time comes when I would need to tell her about this. About whatever the hell is going on between Peeta Mellark and me.

"You don't even know anything about me," I offer up one of my last and feeble protests. It's getting harder and harder to deny this thing between us.

"So then give me the chance to," he implores.

I pull back and search his face. I don't know quite yet what to make of this handsome, charismatic, and at times pompous man standing in front of me. I can't quite seem to figure him out.

I open my mouth to say something when we're interrupted.

"Katniss, there you are."

Haymitch, my boss, saunters up to me, cocktail in hand, looking as pleased as I am to be at one of these fancy charity things. He glances over at Peeta briefly, who has released me from his arms, but thankfully doesn't say anything to embarrass me.

"Come on, we got to go make small talk with some investors. Let's hurry up so we can get the hell out of here," he grumbles, turning and expecting me to follow him without another word.

I turn back to Peeta, who just smiles and waves me away.

"Thanks for the dance."

He leans in to kiss my cheek and then turns and walks away, leaving me feeling like we didn't quite yet cross the bridge that we needed to.

Is this a date? Are we on a date?

Fuck.

I glance over at Peeta sitting beside me on my couch, while the movie flickers on in the background, illuminating the dark room.

He stopped by to drop off some more cheese buns—I texted him and told him how much I enjoyed them the other day—and somehow I ended up inviting him in to watch a movie with me.

We're sitting close to each other on the couch, but not too close. He hasn't tried to put the moves on me or give me any indication that he's interested in anything other than the Will Ferrell movie playing on my TV.

I let my eyes roam over his side profile—the straight nose, the full bottom lip, his defined jaw line—and try not to be too obvious about it.

He moves his head like he's going to glance in my direction, and I snap my eyes forward, determined not to get caught.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

I'm kind of over playing hard to get at this point. I don't really care anymore that he's probably not Prince Charming, and that he probably makes every girl he sets his sights on drop her panties with little to no effort.

I want to fuck. I want him inside me.

I take a deep, steadying breath and then place my hand on his arm. He looks over at me curiously, and I hold his gaze for a moment before looking at his lips.

I move in slowly, wanting to pull his bottom lip between mine and suck.

When I'm no more than an inch away, however, he turns his head away, stopping me completely.

I'm shocked.

I gape at him for a moment, totally stunned before I pull away, my face heating in embarrassment.

"Oh my god, oh my god," I mutter, slapping a hand to my forehead.

"Katniss…" he begins in a patronizing voice that makes me want to punch him in the face.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," I snap. "Just get the fuck out. I get it alright, you fucking work on me until I give in and get to the point where I actually want you, and then you pull the rug out from under me just to make me feel like a fucking idiot."

"Katniss," he says again, this time his tone a little harsher. I can't look at him though.

"Get out," I try again, but I've lost any real anger to my voice.

Before I know it, I'm flat on my back, laid out along the couch, Peeta settled between my legs.

"Just shut up for a minute," he says, his hands moving to my gym shorts and tugging them down my legs.

I gasp, my heart starting to beat frantically out of my chest as I'm left in nothing but my thin cotton panties. He slides his own athletic shorts to the floor and then repositions himself between my legs again.

He dips his head to kiss that same sweet spot along my neck, sucking the skin, before palming my breast in his large hand.

"You think I don't want this?" He hums into my ear, his rock hard cock pressing against me, the heat of him and the friction from our underwear making me cry out in pleasure.

He pushes against me, his dick rubbing against my folds through the thin fabric that still covers each of us. The way he moves his hips is so hot and sensual, hitting my clit just right. My legs wrap around the back of his thighs, and I follow his rhythm, rocking into him with a blind lust.

I have never enjoyed dry humping so fucking much.

He moves his hand down my body and slips it inside my panties, seeking out my clit and rubbing it mercilessly.

"Peeta!" I scream, ready to come undone.

"I love hearing you say my name," he breathes, biting down on my ear lobe. "Love feeling how fucking wet I make you," he hums.

"Oh god," I whine as the coil inside me twists impossibly tighter.

I come so hard that it takes me minute to realize he's pushed his boxers down past his hips and now his—holyfuckingshit—perfect cock is sliding against the soaked material of my underwear.

He's rubbing against my folds, the wet layer of cotton creating an exquisite friction and the feel of him, hard and hot and heavy against me, makes my eyes roll to the back of my head.

"Is this what you want?" he growls, palming my breast again and making me yelp. "You want my fucking cock?"

My back bows as I jut my hips towards him; the hollow, aching, and empty feeling of him not being inside me right now is driving me mad.

"Is that what your needy little clit wants?" he says, as his hips start to thrust against me frantically.

I cry out, shuddering as my second orgasm washes over me, even more intense than the first. I watch through heavy eyes as Peeta pulls away and cups himself, spilling into his hand.

He cleans himself off and pulls his shorts back on in record time. I still feel drunk and lethargic, unable to do anything but stare at him curiously.

He pulls away from me and sits up, not even looking in my direction.

Something twists inside me painfully, and I push it down, determined to ignore it. I knew what this was before it started.

"Don't feel like you have to stay until the movie is over," I force out, trying to play it cool. "We both got what we wanted I guess."

He shoots me a wounded look and confusion sweeps over me.

"Yeah, I guess," he murmurs unhappily.

"What?" I shoot back defensively. "You wouldn't even kiss me first. I don't expect you to stay and cuddle with me. I don't need your pity."

"I didn't kiss you first, because when I kiss you I want it to be real. I want more from you than just a quick, easy fuck, Katniss."

The words shock me, literally snap the awareness right back into me, my heart beating a mile a minute. I sit up and look at him carefully.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

He shakes his head and then leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. When he moves to get up from the couch, I grab his arm.

"Where are you going?"

He looks at me in disbelief. "You just told me not to hang around," he says plainly. "What do you want from me?"

I hesitate, trying to sort out the war of emotions going through me.

I must take too long to answer though, because he gets up from the couch.

"Don't worry. I won't get my hopes up that you want the same thing from me that I want from you," he says with a sad smile.

He walks out of my apartment, leaving me alone with this huge revelation.

Peeta Mellark is not who I thought he was. At all.