I will try to make this as short and sweet as possible because nobody likes long ass disclaimers (sorry. It turned out to be pretty long). You could totally skip this, but I advise that you don't. Nobody likes unpleasant surprises.

Some of you may have already read this second installment of Holy Rosalie when I first posted it back in November. I took it down after about two weeks simply because I really like this one-shot the way it is and I felt that adding to it would have brought it down. Clearly this is a subjective estimation, but I still want to make this crystal clear:

The first chapter of Holy Rosalie is a stand-alone project. The following material is shit I wrote because I had nothing better to do and because my best friend encouraged me to add to it. It was always meant to be a one-shot and it will always be a one-shot. So I implore you lovely readers to consider the following content as 'episodes' rather than chapters because there is definitely no storyline here. If you want a storyline, then STOP right now and take your behind back to part one and don't come back…or read another fic with a storyline.

I have already written about seven 'episodes' including this one and so far I have only shared them with the best friend, but after some careful deliberation I decided I wanted to share it with the rest of you…but not before writing this long ass disclaimer. Hang tight, it is almost over. Maybe.

For those of you who have read and are familiar with my other projects, you probably already know that all or most of my versions of Stephenie's characters are freaks. Please do not be startled by the shit these characters say and do. I'm not sure why I felt the need to say that, as I have read some filthy stories on here by unapologetic authors (this is not a bad thing), but I suppose I just like to give fair warnings.

To put this in plain words, there is sex in just about every 'episode.'

Two more things. I tend to copy stuff from myself. In other words, you might see the same stuff in two different fics (huge shout out to those who have read and 'favorited' most or all of my stories! I thank you immensely). It happens a lot with me but I do try to keep it to a minimum. There are only two scenes/events that I can think of right now, but if you see more, then just know you have been justly forewarned (assuming you have stuck around this far down. I swear I am almost done).

FINALLY, you may notice a change in the quality of the writing from here on out. It will definitely be more casual than the first chapter because, like I said, these additions were just for fun and were never intended to be published.

I am done explaining myself. Now on to the other disclaimers that everyone should have before their stories if they want to avoid getting shit from people. Feel free to skip these (because they are pretty lengthy).

I am not Stephenie Meyer. These characters do not belong to me.

There is still the occasional bashing of God/Jesus/Bible.

This is still extremely OOC.

Yeah.


ALICE

"I have to say, I'm impressed that you managed to talk your folks into letting me borrow you on a school night. I thought it was, like, forbidden or whatever. Is—is that in the Bible?"

Rosalie smiled.

"Technically it's not a school night for me. Our parents give us the Monday and Tuesday after Easter Sunday off. They're not that strict. They…let me shop for my own casual wear."

Thank you atheist coach Blackford for scheduling a random lacrosse scrimmage before the last two games of the season. Only about four of us showed up, so she took us out for some ice cream and batting instead. Yes, there was one open batting cage and we were the only four there. If that hadn't have happened, I would have felt compelled to attend Pastor Hale's awful Easter Sunday special yesterday. He and his wife have been very generous with Rosalie, and I at least owe them another visit to the church. Alas, I am always stuck with some sort of unexpected event on Sundays.

"I guess I have Jesus to thank for that, don't I?"

I smirked, admiring Rosalie's light green blouse. The top was open and underneath she wore a white camisole, which was useless in covering up all of her glorious cleavage. Her dark blue denim capris were snug around her ass and showed off her shapely calves. She even sexed it up with some white four-inch heels.

"Good evening, ladies. I'm Gianna and I will be serving you tonight. Can I start you two off with a drink?"

I did a double take when I saw our waitress. Goddamn is all I have to say. I glanced at Rosalie, ready to tell her she could order first when I noticed her flushed cheeks and obvious attempt at avoiding the gorgeous server's face.

My eyes narrowed. This was amusing.

"Ah, yes, let me have an Arnold Palmer with extra lemons, please," I placed my menu on the table and beamed at Gianna.

Her dark green eyes lit up and she returned a confident and equally wide smile. I knew then that she had been dazzled.

"Rose, baby—your turn," I said softly and reached over to caress the back of her hand when she didn't say anything immediately after me.

It was the first time I ever called her baby and displayed mild affection in public. The red blush coloring her cheeks grew darker and spread to the rest of her face.

"I—uh, lemonade. Thanks," she stared at her menu.

"All right, I'll be right back with those."

As soon as Gianna was out of earshot I leaned across the table.

"Did Ms. Gianna make my Rosie tingle between the legs?" I whispered.

"Stop it," she whined. Her eyes flickered towards mine and she provided a guilty smile.

"It's okay, Rose. We're humans. I would not mind ending up in a naked, sweaty heap with the both of you," I assuaged. "I'm not…jealous or anything like that. I'd like to have the freedom to stare at and admire anyone I want and I have no right to stop you from doing the same. That's actually a huge turn on."

Rosalie let out a deep sigh and slumped dramatically against the table.

"Oh, thank God! I so wanted to eye fuck her a minute ago."

Definitely didn't expect that. Who the hell is she?

"PRAISE JESUS!" I shouted passionately and a few heads turned towards our table. "Tell me, Rose. Is it only the ladies that make you itch? Make your heart all aflutter?" I asked sincerely.

I truly wondered if witnessing her getting pounded by a real live dick would be possible.

Her lips twisted to the side. "Hmm, well, I think Emmett is—"

"Don't speak!" I yelled.

My arm flung forward and my palm stopped just inches from her face.

My outburst was entirely ignited by the visual that popped up as soon as she said his name, just as I was starting to imagine her getting pulverized from behind and—need I say more?

"I like…people," she admitted with a timid grin.

"Now that is the Christian way to love, sister," I think all those Jujubes I inhaled on the way here were finally getting to me. "God must be so proud. I'm curious, though. How many people have you—liked on…or have liked on you?"

Rosalie blinked.

I blinked.

"For example, I liked on you in the resting area at your daddy's church three weeks ago," and that was the first and last time we had been in such a compromising position.

That needs to change.

"My God, Alice," Rosalie shook her head. "Why all of a sudden are you censoring yourself?"

"I am so sorry," I cleared my throat. "How many people have you fucked?"

"One."

"Just me? Really?" I squeaked.

"No, I haven't fucked you yet."

I am wet.

I swallowed. "Well then who was this lucky person?"

"Me," she smirked, eyelids narrowed.

You know…that counts. Totally legit. I am starting to believe God really isn't made up after all! At least, not the God that I envision—the one that is absolutely fine with the pastor's kid loving on all people and touching herself. I mean because obviously he hasn't condemned the sacred family for her naughty, sinful mindset and endeavors. I like this God.

"Ohh," I nodded. "And, besides myself and yourself, how many people have fucked you?" I asked in a semi-outdoor voice.

I know many people wouldn't necessarily identify eating and tickling pussy as fucking, but I like to consider any kind of intense sexual contact as fucking, especially if coming is involved.

Someone cleared their throat next to me. By the look on Gianna's face and the crimson shade under her skin I already knew she had heard what I said.

"Here—here are your drinks. Are you ladies ready to order?"

I ordered the chicken and shrimp carbonara and Rosalie requested the parmesan crusted tilapia. We shared our food and fed each other like an excessively romantic couple and even played footsie under the table. I whispered to her across the table the nasty things I wanted to do to her and her to me. The next minute she was creeping over to my side of the booth and slipping her hand under the hem of my dress.

Her fingertips would browse my upper thighs and no matter how wide I'd spread my legs or how many times I pleaded and squirmed, she never moved them higher than the creases at the top of my inner thighs. It was not very nice of her. Gianna eyed us furtively as she periodically passed by, staring for just a second too long when Rosalie's teeth grazed my earlobe but not once did she stop by to check up on us—to ask if we needed refills or anything. Our plates had long been cleaned up and stacked together and after a few minutes I grasped she was not about to bring the check unless Rosalie was safely back on her side. And since she was being awfully mean to me, I voluntarily kicked her ass out of my side of the booth.

I felt like Rosalie's parents did not like setting her on a curfew when she was with me because they wouldn't have wanted to offend her loyal guardian and all, but I sensed they were relieved to use the school night excuse to request her back by nine o' clock. By the time we left Olive Garden we only had seventeen minutes left. Possibly enough time for some road play at twenty miles per hour, but judging by how she was maliciously fucking around with me earlier that opportunity was out of the question.

"Slow down," Rosalie chided after she peeked at my speedometer.

My eyebrows furrowed and I gripped the leather steering wheel. My foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

"Pull over!"

I switched lanes like a madwoman.

"Alice!"

"Jesus is with us!" I hollered.

"Pull over now."

Her tone was much more relaxed this time and I finally slowed down to a legal speed.

"Alice. I told you to pull over. Right there," she pointed towards a deserted shopping center. "Now!" Suddenly she was urgent.

I turned sharply into the parking lot, taking up three spots when I screeched to a stop.

"Good girl. Now get out."

I sensed the mischief in her tone but I still wasn't absolutely positive she wasn't going to just hop in the driver's seat and peel away. I can see it on the breaking news headlines now in heavy, bold ink: Pastor's daughter breaks free from constrained lifestyle in extravagant runaway Lexus.

"Look I will stop cracking jokes about Jesus—"

"Get. Out. On the hood, Alice. If you'd listen to me—"

She had me at 'on the hood.' I bolted out of the car and eagerly leaped for the hood, tripping twice before finally making it on top. I watched through the windshield as she eased out of the passenger's door with such peaceful fluidity and grace.

"Glad you listened, Alice. You would have been profoundly sorry if you hadn't," Rosalie's words were smooth as she circled the car and stood in front of me.

She glanced at the watch on her left wrist and peered at me.

"Panties off. Now."

My thumbs fumbled under the brim of my blue and white polka dot boy shorts and I made a quick work of easing them down my clean-shaven legs.

"Give them here," she showed me her palm. I dropped them in. "Spread your legs."

Emmett would have an aneurysm if he found out about this—oh. Wait a minute.

A brazen smirk grew slowly on her lips as my legs parted and I pulled my dress out of the way. I thought about teasing her and playing with my pussy, but her plan was obviously time sensitive.

"I took advantage when I noticed there was a glitch in the parental controls last week," she climbed up on the hood with me, grabbing my thigh and rotating me sideways so she could comfortably dig her face between my legs.

Parental controls, huh? So does that mean Mr. and Mrs. Hale stay up late at night watching shit their holy asses know damn well they shouldn't be watching? Some ho—

"Virginal Mother of Jesus Christ," I forgot what I was talking about.

Rosalie's mouth was moving with a purpose, providing just the right amount of pressure as the papillae of her warm and wet tongue brushed firmly against my clit. She never broke contact and her tongue swept in every imaginable direction.

This was a million fucking times better than the scenario I imagined earlier in the shower, involving Rosalie and a nine-inch strap-on. She pushed it into me hard and flicked and tapped at my clit. I had followed the same motions with my fingers and came explosively all over my hand. Good thing nobody was home.

Rosalie nudged around my entrance with her fingers. I moaned, grinding my pussy into her face.

"Yes," I encouraged.

One lengthy and slim finger effortlessly slipped inside. And I probably made that sound like I'm loose or something, but no. Just unbelievably wet.

"May God bless you Rosalie Hale in Jesus name I pray," I mumbled and pointlessly tried to rub at my clit, as if Rosalie's capable tongue wasn't already taking care of that.

"Mm-hmm," her hums vibrated against me as her finger pushed in and out at a slow, steady pace.

I heard the gentle buzz of cars driving down the street behind us and—fuck me! Rosalie is licking and finger fucking my pussy on the hood of my car in the open fucking parking lot and people are just driving by without a clue!

The thought, along with Rosalie's impressively skilled tongue sent me into frenzy. I heard myself yelling stuff, but I couldn't tell you what exactly. I know I deservingly praised Jesus a few times.

When the big, fuzzy glowing balls began focusing back into distinct, boring streetlights I noticed Rosalie's soft hands gliding up and down my legs. I drew out one final heavy sigh and she crawled on top of me.

"What the fuck kind of porn were you watching!"

She silenced me with her lips and kissed me hard and slow, as if to show off and substantiate the outrageously amazing shit she could do with her mouth. How I'd love to see those full lips wrapped around a rock-solid cock. I'm such a pervert.

Rosalie's watch beeped. She sat up slightly and examined her wrist.

"We're late."

We made it to Rosalie's house at a quarter past nine. I asked her what explanation she had brewed up this time and she immediately started telling me about some emergency at the restaurant, somebody choking on some tic tacs, me running up and saving the day with the Heimlich Maneuver, broken plates, and us staying behind like angels from heaven to help clean up.

"They'll really love you for that one," she mused.

I blinked and paused for a few seconds, purely stunned speechless.

"Are you ever going to give me my panties back?"

Of course I didn't want them back. They just went mysteriously astray in the parking lot and I was wondering if she knew anything about it.

"Night, Alice. See you soon," she pecked me on the lips and bounded to the door.

When I pulled up in the driveway I saw we had a full house. I immediately recognized Renee's white Avalon among the mass of gaudy luxury vehicles. I guess Mom decided to invite her girlfriend over while Daddy caught up with his countless buddies from medical school. They reunited once a month, rotating houses, and I guess tonight it was Daddy's turn to host. He would be inaccessible in the basement until probably midnight.

"Renee!" I threw myself at my best friend's mom the minute I saw her sitting all close to Mom in the kitchen.

They instantly diverged and looked super suspicious, especially Mom. I played it off like I didn't notice. Doesn't bother me—or Daddy! And anyway, Renee has been like a second mom to me since I was, like, five. Nobody cares.

Mom pretended to look at something interesting in the freezer.

"Hey, baby girl! You look cute! Were you on a date?" Renee asked after kissing me on the cheek and fingering the blue freesia in my hair.

Ohh, yeah.

"Ah, I was just spending some quality time with a friend from Mom's church. How have you been? Where is Bella?"

"I've been great, sugar. Bella's here. She took off to your room when we got here," she smiled kindly, admiring me for a few seconds. "You are so beautiful, Alice. Just like your mother," she busted that line out every once in a blue moon.

"Thank you, Renee. I'm off to make sure your daughter isn't poking her nose where it doesn't belong," I darted out of the kitchen.

I burst through my bedroom door, expecting to find Bella digging through my collection of vibrators and cheesing hard like a kid in a toy store. Instead, she jumped two feet in the air in my bed and screamed bloody murder.

"What the fuck are you doing in my bed?" I barked with mock outrage and lunged at her.

I landed on top of Bella, pinning her down by her arms and straddling her stomach. For just a split second I had completely forgotten that—

"Oh. My. God." Bella froze and her eyes were wide. "Do not tell me those are your bare fucking ass cheeks on my stomach!" She yelled. Her mouth fell open disbelievingly and she looked slightly traumatized.

I let go of her arms and gazed down, eyeing the bare pale skin under her midriff top. I raised an eyebrow before the most conniving smirk played on my lips. Slowly, I started grinding on her.

"No!"

Bella shrieked and thrashed underneath me the minute I made some real contact with her skin.

"Oh, Bella!" I shouted erotically, combing my fingers through my hair and biting my lip as I passionately humped at her stomach.

"Rape! Help!"

"Shh," my index finger pressed down on her lips. "Don't speak. Just look into my eyes," I leaned forward and caressed her face.

"Quit fucking around!" Bella sat up and I tumbled backwards, legs high in the air and completely exposed.

She screamed again, horrified.

"Oh my God! Why? Why did you leave your house without any underwear on?"

I rolled off the bed and skipped to my drawer. "I did have underwear on. But then Rose stole them," I said grabbing a fresh pair and slipping into them.

"You fucked the pastor's daughter again?" She was all but amused now.

I smirked. "Not exactly—"

"Did somebody scream rape?" Emmett barged through looking distraught and my door launched into the wall.

"Too late, Emmett," Bella rolled her eyes. "If this were a real rape case I would've already been deflowered."

Silence followed. Emmett and I cautiously glanced at each other sideways, communicating wordlessly.

"Back from your date, Al? How'd it go?" Emmett outstretched his arms, took a running start and threw himself on my bed, sending Bella soaring several feet into the air.

"It was more eventful than yours, I am sure," I scoffed.

Emmett gave me a fierce glare. "I beg to differ! Today we went to that fair that opened up last weekend. We had a blast. Ate smoked turkey legs, funnel cakes, cotton candy, and got on every single ride at least twice. I won six stuffed animals and a necklace for her and she gave me this shirt," he produced a button-up from behind him and held it high for everyone to see.

"Where the—" fuck did that come from?

"Random gift she surprised me with at the end of our date," he shrugged.

My head tilted as I assumed my visual perception was playing some brutal joke on me.

"Well you should slap her. That shit is atrocious!" Bella barked.

No. No, Bella sees it too.

"Are—are those bubbles on the fucking shirt, Emmett?" I squinted at the harsh greens and yellows. The patterns of colors and circles were making me dizzy. "What are those? Cross sectional gobstoppers?"

"That's what I was thinking," Bella nodded.

"Is that—is that a joke?"

Emmett frowned. "She said the shirt made her feel all warm and fuzzy when she saw it…made her smile. Like I make her smile."

"So it is a joke," I affirmed.

"No it's not," he snapped.

"Well," I swallowed, "do you like it?"

Emmett twisted the shirt in his hands and shrugged.

"It's different. I'd wear it on a good day. I'll probably wear it for our next date."

He doesn't like it.

I mentally cringed trying to imagine him in that hideous thing.

"And when is that?"

"Saturday."

"You should let me iron it for you," I feigned the sweetest grin I could. "There are wrinkles all over the place," not really, but…I was known to exaggerate sometimes.

He stared at me, carefully scrutinizing my features for any signs of deception. It wasn't often that I offered to iron his clothes, but I always handed them back unharmed and pressed to a seamless crisp whenever I did.

"I'll ask Mama to do it."

Shit. Damn twin thing. Mom would probably try to burn a hole through it too, though. Ah, whatever. I'll get my hands on it before Saturday.

"Okay," I let it go. Protesting would only give him more reason to believe my intentions on destroying the shirt were spot on. "Then get out so I can give Bella a detailed account of my hot and steamy evening with Rosalie. Unless you want t—"

"No thank you," he cleared out at track star speed, shutting the door behind him.

"Alice," Bella crawled to the edge of the bed, slapping her hands heavily on my shoulders and shaking me ferociously. "You have got to do something about that shirt."

"You already know I am not about to let my brother walk around like he had just been spit out of some mysterious time warp from the seventies."

"Does she dress like that?"

"No! Nessie actually wears some really cute non-church clothes, which is why I find this absolutely confounding," I tapped my chin.

"You think that maybe it—it's a costume or something? Maybe she's into role playing?" Bella asked with genuine curiosity.

"Could be," I shrugged and sat down beside her.

"Well, do not disappoint! Give me details!"

I happily described our date from beginning to end, specifying thoroughly when necessary. Like the faithful best friend she is, Bella applauded us for a job well done and told me she worshipped the ground I walked on.


As always, thank you for reading.