First off, THANK YOU to anyone who is still reading this. It is completely my fault that this fic hasn't been updated in FOREVER. Personal problems arose from the loss of a friend and I've finally decided to get my shit together and toughen up. Our Bella and Edward need some lovin'!

Major props to Travelchica, my co-author. Without her, I don't know if I ever would have gotten back to writing this fic. She kept the fire going under my ass, even if I was a hopeless case. Thanks darling, you saved this fic.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter!


EPOV

Everyone else wanted to be out in the middle of the game, but I preferred to take care of the goal. I was only here to keep up the united front of the Cullen Brothers.

Did we really all have to be fucking jocks? Not like it made a difference as far as getting laid was concerned.

Anytime, any place, anyone.

So, I'd skipped out. I wasn't going to risk my pianist fingers while blocking a goal shot. Screw that.

I wasn't exactly Mozart, but I wasn't stuck on chopsticks either.

With Jazz up for center and Big Em up for anything that involved tackling the other team, I figure Forks high school soccer was pretty much covered for Cullens this season.

Heading home in the Volvo all I could think of was letting off some steam with a little Chopin, not listening; playing. I had Linkin Park blasting as I drove above the speed limit down the dirt road towards home.

It made a change to blast all other thoughts out of my head.

Scratch that.

These days the only thought in my head was her. My darling little 'sister'. If I wasn't thinking about her, I was thinking of the things I wanted to do to her.

Touch. Kiss. Feel. Fuck.

Be fucked by.

She was in my head twenty-four fucking seven. No amount of other pussy could get her out.

The house looked empty as I pulled up in front of the porch. No doubt there'd be some party tonight I'd need that car for; why put it away?

Fuck, how looks could be deceiving.

I set one foot over the door step of home sweet home and was assaulted by a noise I'd never been on the outside of hearing.

Piano music.

Who the fuck listened to piano music in my family?

Mom, but she was at some committee meeting about something, somewhere...

The brothers never would, and they weren't home if they did.

The step-father I doubted even knew a piano piece other then the Entertainer from ring tones.

Bella, well I didn't even know anything about her music tastes.

Bella? Piano music?

My train of thought had carried me to the foot of the stairs, but I was still at a loss.

Was piano music Bella's thing?

The only piano I mentioned to her was my own and its location being out of bounds.

Bella, and my piano. That was a familiar image in my head, always with me and her on top of the sleek wooden instrument.

Right in the middle of the staircase it hit me. The music was too clear. It rang too true. It sounded too real.

Someone was playing my piano. MY PIANO.

Anger ripped through me like a fat hooker busting out a cheap corset; quick and messy.

Funny how the anger let me process who would be playing.

No one played in my family.

Esme listened.

The brothers ignored.

The step-father probably didn't even know how to open it. Ignorant heathen!

Again, she was on my mind.

Bella.

Bella?

Did she play the piano?

I knew so little about her as a person. All I did know was the color of her chest and her ability to tease almost as well as myself.

Anger didn't subside for long.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I sprinted down the hallway towards the room that held the music maker at a great speed – I really should consider track as my jock sport.

Whoever was playing was an amateur, that much was clear. The timing was off, and the notes slipped in places.

It was Bella, it had to be. Everyone else was somewhere else, with someone else.

I didn't know her plans, ever.

I slammed the door open and the music stopped. The door rebounded back off the wall. I knew there would be a dent. The door bounced off my still out stretched hand and I knew there would be a slight ache later.

It was her.

Bella.

Bella sat behind my piano a look of shock on her face as she looked at me.

Shock to recognition to something I could place.

Indifference.

I didn't care.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Anger?

"I told you at the wedding that the piano wasn't to be touched."

Smug?

"Get off it, now."

Boredom?

I didn't care what the other emotion was as I crossed the room. Holding the lid and shoving her hands off the keys, I shut it with a more gentle force than the opening of the door.

"What are you doing, Bella?" I spat her name

"What are you doing, Edward?" She retorted.

Immature and amateur.

"I asked first. And this is my house."

OK, so in an argument with her maybe I lacked maturity too. Call it fight fire with fire.

"Quite obviously, playing the piano. And it's my house too." She stated the obvious without looking at me. Suddenly her nails were more interesting. "What are you doing home?"

"Not playing soccer." So obvious was how the conversation would go, who was I to argue? "What are you doing with my piano?"

"Playing it."

"Badly," I told her. It may not have been obvious to her, but it was to me.

"Fuck you." She said, finally looking at me. "What's the matter? Soccer a bit too rough for you, pretty boy? Didn't want to mess up your hair?"

"Fuck you." So we shared words. I wouldn't mind sharing a few other things with her. "What's the matter? No Mike to screw today?"

OK, so throwing out the idea of her and Mike might have been more childish then she was being, but it punished me too. The idea made me sick to my stomach. She could do better. Hell, she deserved better.

"What, no Jessica, Lauren, Jayden, or Katie to play with today? I could go on but I'd grow tired of trying to remember all the whores you screwed."

The names she threw out were past conquests and not that far past, but did she really think I was without a screw? Yeah, so I was, but it was by choice. I'd been busy like that for the past few weeks, a guy needed a break; occasionally.

"They're not here, but you are." I winked. We were both teasers, but it was all fun.

"Observation and being obvious are your strong points, huh? Well, something has to be when all else you got is cheap, easy lays."

That last comment stung. I was selective about my screws; usually.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch?"

She leaned towards me, an arrogant smirk on her face. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, "What, don't you like it?"

I didn't need this, not now. I'd wanted the house to myself and a little piano time. What I got was the cranky bitch and her attitude.

"Just get of the piano and piss off." I told her, grabbing her arms and helping her up with force, but still gentle. Not that she deserved it.

"Fuck off, Edward. Don't touch me." She pushed herself up and tried to shrug off my hand.

I hadn't accounted for the closeness. The turn on from fighting. The desire, the want, the must have.

She faced the piano as she stood. The whole side of her body brushed against the front of mine.

I hadn't accounted for the touching. The brushing of her fabric-covered body on mine.

I hadn't realized how fucking tight my jeans were till my cock strained at the fabric. Jeez, I had to get this straight jacket off my junk.

Little Miss Cock Tease had to have felt it.

She looked at me.

I looked down at her.

I wanted those lips on mine. I wanted to feel her tongue in my mouth. I wanted to feel her body tight against mine.

I wanted her.

Touching, kissing, sex, fucking; it was all instinct. No thinking involved.

I wasn't thinking when I lent down to her and pushed my lips to hers. I wasn't thinking as my hands gripped the back of her neck and her waist.

I wasn't thinking when I pulled her to me.

I wasn't thinking until she kissed me back and then all I was thinking was how much I wanted this.


BPOV

It truly was fucking ridiculous.

All I could think of was how disgustingly cliche this entire fiasco was. Twisted, too. After all, in the eyes of society, we were brother and sister.

Siblings who wanted to fuck each other senseless despite the dire warnings from mommy and daddy.

I resisted the best I could. Hell, I put a shitload of effort into it, and that's saying a lot coming from me.

But when his lips met mine, any shot I had at avoiding temptation was tossed out the window faster than Paris Hilton's acting career. He had been too close to begin with, but physical contact was the end of me. It wasn't something I could simply walk away from.

I knew that once I touched his piano I was asking for trouble, but I had no reason to believe that I would get caught in the first place. It didn't even register that he was home when he was supposed to be at soccer practice until it was too late, and by then I didn't give a shit. As long as no one else was home to witness the groping and sucking face that was taking place, it was fine by me.

My hands eagerly made their way to his sexified bronze hair, the very same hair that I fantasized about touching.

Touching.

Pulling.

Threading my fingers through...

You get the point.

And here I was, doing just that and then some. I was very aware of his hands that gripped my waist and cupped my neck, and couldn't help but ache for more. He was absolutely intoxicating in every way, and there was no way I was going to pass this up. Who knew if it would ever happen again?

My breathing quickened as my ass found the edge of the piano, realizing that he had been pushing against me and now had me pinned against his precious baby.

Apparently it wasn't so precious when his dick had something to say about it.

Not that I was complaining.

Words of protest were the farthest things from my mind.

I could feel him hard and ready as he pressed into me, and there was nothing else that I wanted at that moment other than him.

His fingers easily undid the buttons on my shirt, and it was in that moment that I realized what I had become.

An easy piece of meat.

A submissive.

A bitch panting in heat...

I wasn't supposed to be like all the others. I wasn't like the others.

I wasn't going to be easy, and I certainly wasn't going to beg for it.

Or drop to my knees on command like a fucking brainwashed cult member.

That shit was best kept for the professionals, like Lauren Mallory.

I gripped his hair and pulled his head back, breaking the contact that I dreamed about. Despite my actions, his hand remained firm on my hip, soon joined by the other. The look of utter confusion was apparent on his face, and in any other situation I would have felt triumph in such success.

But this time, I felt like the loser.

Shaking my head every so slightly, I pulled out of his grasp and slid out from under him.

I buttoned my shirt quickly as I walked towards the door, leaving him confused and alone by the piano.

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as I left without saying a word.


AN: I know I don't deserve it, but pwetty pwease review for us? Y'all are fantastic, even just to read this. Updates will hopefully be more regular now.