"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along."

Chapter 10: Chess Master

My feet were curled up on the other side of his lap. My butt was actually in his lap. One hand was cupping his cheek, the other was gripping his curls. We had established a very slow yet frantic dip and suck rhythm that allowed any viewers a clear shot of our tongues dipping back and forth between his mouth and mine.

The bell had rung for final dismissal and voices and footsteps surrounded us in a jumbled mess of noise.

We didn't stop.

Using my hair as half a shield, I pulled away and looked lovingly into brown eyes. I wriggled slightly in his lap.

"Your ego repaired enough for another round yet?" It had been well over two weeks since I had schooled him on the proper ways to get fucked. I still couldn't think about the Neanderthal, shocked-stupid look on his face as I kicked him out, condom hanging off his limp dick. Even now I was suppressing giggles.

"You ever think guys shove their dicks in your mouth just so you'll shut the fuck up?"

I stiffened, but he pulled me back softly by cupping my chin, tonguing my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth with an incredibly loud and wet sound of suction. His hand cradled my back and traced my jaw line with a single finger. He was literally petting me, like a damn cat.

I went along with it, but scorched the back of his neck with my fingernails.

When we parted again it was quieter, but there were still people milling about.

Emmett sighed.

"Why do you make me be mean to you?"

I snuggled into his chest and gave the passerbys a smug, contented smile as I sighed in faux, completely scripted bliss.

"Why? Are you thinking that beneath this sculpted, genetically gifted shell that I'm an emotionally scarred child whose parents didn't love her enough and gave her a complex which lead to her becoming a total bitch in the interest of keeping people from finding out that really I'm just an insecure, lonely girl needing a shoulder?"

I lightly kissed his lips and ran a finger down the slope of his nose.

"Your parents?" Amateur.

"Twenty-five years of wedded bliss and counting." Mostly True.

"And your body?" Unobservant amateur.

"Au natural, as you probably should have noticed when I was naked, but I forgive you for being a bit cock-absorbed." Tell me to stick that in my mouth and suck it asshole.

Emmett's lips thinned out and I smiled brightly at him. "Now, now. None of that. We are happy, shiny people who are so into each other we can't help but suck face on one of the most localized benches right outside the busiest buildings on campus just as three hundred other kids are being released from class for the day."

The frown desisted and died a sudden death.

"Anyway, I should probably go. I've got some errands to run in town and the driver should be here any minute."

I hopped off Emmett's lap with one last kiss and grabbed by bag. "Same time on Thursday? Maybe this time at the lockers?"

I didn't wait for a reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tonight was the night.

I was going all semi-lesbo just to fulfill a superiority complex that rivaled Hitler's and stroke an ego that was so inflated it could float under the weight of a hippo or twelve.

Ironically enough, I didn't expect to have to do that until I was married and nearing my forties.

I had done my research, watching about two dozen internet videos of girl on girl before realizing they all were the same.

Deep naughty voices and floaty laughter. Check.

Stilletos or knee high boots on at all times. Check.

Air conditioning on full blast for best possible nipple-age. Check.

Waxed hoo-ha. Check. Well, I had shaved it. That was really my only option seeing as how there was no Brazilian waxing salon in town. Next time I went home I would have to make an appointment.

Lots of moaning and pouty-lipped kisses and nipple-tweaking. I could do that. Totally check.

Sheet clenching, panting, octave scaling, seeing deities orgasm?

Eh. I could fake it.

I did my hair with hot rollers to complete that tumbled, well-fucked hair effect and made my way over to Edward's dorm. I knocked and a muffled voice called for me to come in.

This was my first hint that Edward wasn't even home.

Edward had gone to Miss Manners classes every Sunday with me since we were old enough to see over the dinner table. He never just called for someone to enter his domain, especially if he knew it was a female someone.

He answered the door and welcomed the person in.

I pushed the door open and tried not to stare at the girl pacing across the sitting room of Edward's private suite.

I glanced around, wishing there were more rooms so I could avoid looking at her. I was afraid she'd be able to tell I was staring. Which I wanted to do, badly.

And temptation had always posed a problem for me.

"Where's the man of the hour? He missed the grand entrance I had all planned out."

"Yeah, I know, right? I'm Bella. You're Rosalie…need a gin and tonic?"

She wasn't, in fact, Bella. She was rather on the plain side, but I also detected that she was plain on purpose because she wanted to go against the stereotype of say, a blonde with big boobs and long legs.

This girl was effectively playing into a stereotype by trying to avoid another one altogether. But she wasn't completely unfortunate looking.

She was shorter than me by a good few inches and she was made-up to look like she was wearing no make-up. No color, just brown eyeliner to make those doe eyes look even more shyly alluring, and mascara. It was artfully done.

Her hair was in a low ponytail, but it was a deep brown with natural red highlights that I was jealous of. You did not put color in your naturally golden hair, it was practically one of the ten commandments.

Who needed that whole bit about coveting someone else's wife anyway?

I watched her mix a gin and tonic, wondering why the hell Edward had tonic stashed in his room, and contemplating why she was in Edward's room alone.

All roads led to the belief that she was his steady fuck, or a massive nympho who was secretly slobbering to get it on with the both of us.

We are, after all, just mildly above the good-looking category.

"Edward has orchestra practice until 5:30. I ditched class at lunch for that punk, hiked all the way down here, and he just runs off. For orchestra."

Yeah, that was pretty lame.

"And it wasn't even worth it! He just wanted to talk about this, like have a conversation about sex, which I must say, is a first. I just thought he was texting me to have normal, middle of the day sex. It's never that easy with Edward."

Steady fuck theory confirmed. Waiting on confirmation on the crazy nympho hypothesis.

Oops, it was my turn to speak. What had she been rambling about?

"Suddenly there's an elephant in the room, right?"

"Or a stacked blonde supermodel with perky tits."

Why thank you. I was purposely not wearing a bra and had pinched the shit out of my nipples to achieve just that effect.

Speaking of which, I sauntered over to the thermostat in the bedroom and cranked the A/C. I kicked off my shoes, figuring if he wasn't here to enjoy them I wasn't going to bother, and plopped down on his bed.

She watched me.

"You ever done this before?"

"Sex? Or sex with someone who's conveniently missing a dick and just happens to wear a bra?"

"The latter."

"Nope." I laid back on the bed. I certainly wasn't going to ask the return question.

Predictably the silence pushed her to talk without me having to do (or admit to) anything.

"Me either. Not that I'm against it. Hell, you should always try something once, right?"

If she didn't shut up soon, I'd stick my tongue down her throat just to shut her the hell up.

And as if sensing that I was starting to get annoyed, Edward breezed through the door in his school uniform, folder of sheet music in one hand.

And as if sensing that I was starting to get annoyed, Edward breezed through the door in his school uniform, folder of sheet music in one hand.

"Thanks for waiting for me ladies."

I wanted to smack that smug crooked grin off his face.

"Ah, Rosalie. I see you're already ready to go. Last chance to back out."

"You did me a solid and I return on my favors." I called back to him as he toed off his shoes and tugged at his tie. The jacked was tossed over his desk chair.

"Classic Rosalie Hale. No pussy-footing around. If you'll wait for just a minute, Bella and I are going to watch you get naked. Slowly."

Sure Edward, take your time. Get yourself comfortable. Allow me to lay here in uncomfortable awkwardness you sanctimonious fuck.

They pulled the loveseat up to he end of his double bed (what, no queen?) and Edward pulled Bella down into his lap, pushing her ponytail out of the way so he could see over her shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist and she snuggled into his bony bod, both pairs of eyes now on me.

I rolled myself up to a sitting position, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, not quite touching the floor.

I reached up to pull off one sock and flung it at him.

It predictably hit Bella in the chest and stayed there. Emo-girl didn't even seem to notice, she was holding Edward's hand.

Ok, what the fuck? One, when I'm getting naked you look at me bitch. Two, when the fuck did Edward start holding hands? That crazy bastard is a mildly compulsive germaphobe.

Edward pulled his limp hand (so the hand-holding hadn't been mutual I'm assuming) aawy from hers to toss my erstwhile sock aside with a flick of his wrist, looking somewhat annoyed.

So sorry to ruin your perved-out male fantasies with my foot odor.

I pulled off the jewel-toned green capped sleeved shirt I had put on with a jean skirt, revealing no bra and my two perfectly pointed (Jesus it was cold in here) nipples.

I scooted over to the edge of the bed and stood up, unbuttoning my skirt and pushing it past my hips before allowing it to drop to the floor with a jangle of metal meeting hardwood.

Edward winced at the sound, but his eyes stayed glued to the emerald underwear that matched my shirt. I would never admit I had found the cute thong at Target over the summer when picking myself up some pepperoni Hot Pockets.

"Leave the thong on." Edward said, but his voice was suspiciously strained. That and if he stared any harder, I'd suspect he was trying to see right through me.

Take that chess master.

I shrugged and sat back down on the bed, hands running over the black down comforter.

Edward leaned down and whispered in Bella's ear.

I watched her shiver and reach up to stroke his face blindly.

She got up and crawled onto the bed, stopping right next to me.

Brown eyes were looking back into my own. Brown on brown, except hers were guiless, open holes that couldn't hide a single secret or lie in their depths.

She was nervous, but determined. The "anything for Edward" vibe she was working should have been tattooed on her forehead, it would have been less conspicuous.

Her hands took mine and placed them on her waist, at the hem of her worn cotton t-shirt. Together we pulled the shirt over her head.

Some hair came loose from her ponytail and I carefully unwound the band, using my hands to splay her hair out in that classic I'm-getting-fucked look. I reached down and focused on the button on her jeans.

With that gray Hanes bra without an underwire, it was just like being in the locker room with other girls before gym class or a field hockey game.

I didn't mind being naked in front of those girls in the showers or in the changing rooms, why should I be freaked out by a girl in her bra?

She stood up and slid out of the jeans.

Purple cotton underwear on the bottom. I rolled my eyes. Didn't she know anything about giving a guy what he wants?

There is a reason, after all, that the porn industry never goes through an economic recession.

Or was this more of the same I'm being purposely not sexy to prove that I'm not into the whole perpetuating the teenage sex thing?

I had never felt so confused in my whole life.

So I did what any control-freak did when the situation was spinning out of control.

I took charge.

I leaned in and kissed her.

It was…different. Except it was the same.

The lips were the same. They were slightly smaller than say, Emmett's wide mouth, but they were lips--wet and soft.

It was the smells that were different. Instead of cologne I smelled flowers. Instead of a soapy, neutral shampoo, the smell of fruit was wafting into my nose. And her hair was getting into her mouth, which was kind of gross…or was that my hair?

I hoped it was mine.

It wasn't weird that I was one actively doing the tongue thrusting and directing of the kiss, from tilting her head to make sure Edward had a good view, to cupping her jaw and opening her mouth to me. I set the pace, controlled when things got intense and deep and when we lightened up to teasing kisses and caresses.

So it was pretty much like any other kiss for me. I was comfortable in control.

I moved my hand (the one closer to Edward) to her back and reached to unclasp her bra.

It took me three tries and I could hear Edward chuckling until I finally got it off of her.

I retaliated by pushing her onto her back so that we were sideways on the bed. It wasn't a great angle, and our hair was blocking most of the action, but my hands reached out to palm her breasts and squeeze until she exhaled sharply.

I waited until she made that sharp, breathy noise before kissing her again.

Edward went silent and I silently told him to eat crow.

I had the upper hand.

"Stop."

Bella froze like someone had an electric collar on her. Lips going frozen and hands coming up to rest palms up on the comforter, like someone was arresting her.

I rolled off of Bella and propped my head up on my elbow, giving him a poise to drool over

And if he would have been looking at me, he would have drooled.

"Rosalie, move to the head of the bed. Lay on your back."

He was giving me directions now? Who did he think he was? I huffed and hauled myself to the headboard and the massive fluffy pillows. I laid down, rested my hands on my stomach and awaited for the Woody Allen wannabe to decide what he wanted.

He was still looking at Bella, who was flushed with swollen lips.

"Bella. I want you to make Rosalie come."

Both of our heads swiveled towards him.

He was still sitting in the loveseat, slouched down and legs stretched out onto the bed, even at a slight upward angle.

He was still fully clothed and even though I eyed it thoroughly, he had no trace of an erection.

Well, shit.

"Rosalie, you aren't allowed to anything except for lay there. Nothing else."

So this was about me? He didn't like what I was doing? He didn't like me taking advantage of his trailer-park booty call? He wasn't turned on by my taking charge?

Well fuck him.

I was done.

Peace out.

I started to get up and scrambled off the bed. Fuck him and his fucking manipulations. I didn't have to do this—I was doing this to prove a point, not to let him make me feel like a cheap whore. Like some common trick writhing and moaning for rent.

I was Rosalie fucking Hale and—

"If it's too much Rose, you don't have to do this. No harm, no foul."

I was Rosalie fucking Hale and Edward Anthony Cullen had known me since the cradle.

And apparently that mother fucker had been paying attention. He knew exactly how to goad me into a blind rage, just how to soothe the beast, and just how to prick my goddamn pride into submitting.

I tossed my shirt to the floor once more and resumed my previous position, staring concretely at the ceiling, determined to hate every moment of this experience.

Except that then there were…feelings.

Small cold hands on my breasts, lips on my neck. Hands running down my stomach, finding the curve of my hip.

Rubbing at my neck and hands and arms like a goddamn masseuse.

And who managed to stay tense when you had hands working through your knots and making you all warm and sleepy all over?

I was human; I was relaxed.

I was lulled.

And then I was tingling.

Tingling because lips had joined the hands, starting at my mouth and working down to my jaw and neck…oohhh spending time on my neck.

My arms uncrossed.

So did my legs.

She began working on my calves, rubbing deep into the muscle and blowing warm breaths on my skin.

She murmed for me to lift my hips as my underwear slid down my thighs and was discarded.

"That's it…just like that."

I started and tensed. He had taken the words right out of my mouth. Those magic hands, which I refused to associate with the girl who was currently sharing the bed with me, instantly worked harder to keep me relaxed.

I settled after a moment and Edward didn't make any more comments, so I drifted back into that land where I was merely getting a rub-down, only I wouldn't be paying some Swedish woman an exorbitant price afterwards.

Her fingers and lips were at my hip now, tracing the curve down into the inner curves of my thighs and I briefly opened my eyes to see her in between my now wide-open hips, laying on her stomach.

Fingers lightly traced around my lips and over the side of my clit. Lazy, slow circles and I propped my knees up on the bed so I could keep my balance against her fingers. My hips were wriggling as she touched me, half ticklish and half something else entirely.

That something else was sitting in the bottom of my stomach like a hoard of angry butterflies.

Then her fingers slid in between and rubbed my entrance.

Oh, fuck yes. I loved getting finger-banged. Fuck getting head--it's not like guys have any idea of what they are doing down there anyway. I can't imagine a chick would either.

She toyed with me for several moments and I took advantage of the downtime. I was ready to go; she apparently was into dragging this out. So I bit my lip and whimpered a little I time with every loop over my clit, even reaching a hand down to weave in her hair and rub at her scalp.

I had been told that guys like that.

And finally, finally two fingers slid into me, and it was a little odd because…well it all felt good, just not the same kind of good it usually felt. That needy, fingernails digging into my palms, hips arching off the bed, gotta-have-it feeling that you get about exactly two events in life: sex and craving cake dough ice cream from Coldstone Creamery. When you get the feeling, you lose every inhibition and social sense of correctness in a way that liquor or drugs never would be able to achieve. Ice cream and sex. Catalysts for anarchy.

So I wasn't wet, but it wasn't like I was the Sahara either. So the initial entry was a bit rocky, but after a few thrusts the ride smoothed out and she began working her fingers in time with her circuits around my clit.

Then she went there.

Her tongue was poking around inside of me while her fingers continued their rather predictable pattern. Well then. That clearly deserves some reaction. I couldn't just have a non-reaction to someone with their tongue down there.

I clenched my hands in the pillows and thrust my chest up in the air, throwing my head back. I pleaded for her and threw in a lot of "oh god's" and "yeses" and some swear words, because if nothing else, you just knew that Edward Cullen was a dirty fucker.

I decided after about ten minutes that there was no way I was ever going to come and so I amped up the writhing and head-tossing and began clenching my muscles and lifting my hips. I could feel the burn in my abs from all of this very odd physical exertion and hit my "climax" with a loud f-bomb and doing as many ass-clenches as I possibly could in a period of thirty second.

I was so into clenching and spasming and sobbing that I shrieked when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

My eyes flew open and I coughed as some air went down the wrong pipe. My eyes watered as I looked up at Edward, who was scowling down at me, on his side next to me.

When the hell had he gotten on the bed?

I had been so determined not to look at him because I knew he'd see through my little act that I hadn't even noticed when he moved.

He had also gotten rid of the tie and school shirt, and his black school pants were beltless and pitching a tent a circus could perform under.

"Shut the fuck up Rosalie." Edward growled. "Just. Shut. Up."

Oh.

Well I guess there wouldn't be any Academy Awards (or porn flicks) in my future. I couldn't even fool a sixteen year old guy into believing I had had an orgasm. Lke he would know what one looks and sounds like.

And then my body arched as Edward pinched one nipple. Hard. I cried out. "Ouch! You—"

Another yelp was ripped from my throat as his fingers—three of them—replaced hers.

But she wasn't gone. Her tiny little midget fingers were now directly on my clit and rubbing with a ferocity that had been altogether missing before as Edward coached her.

I arched unwillingly from the sheer mass of sensation and swear words poured out of my mouth as Edward wriggled his fingers and then very deliberately pressed up.

Oh shit.

I had had this sensation before. Being so strung out that it felt like you were swirling down a drain, only there was not water that you were floating in. You were just spinning and falling and unable to stop either sensation.

Only I wasn't doped up now; I was being tackled by two people hellbent on giving me an orgasm.

And I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Here. Use this."

And from my drowning fog I heard the steady hum of what could be only one thing.

The sensation was on my clit before I could even think the word vibrator.

Edward's free hand had to restrain me because I reacted so violently.

Fuck! She had that thing on full blast…could you warn a girl?

I shied away from the gadget until she turned it the fuck down. It was a small bullet, designed for the clit. Was it hers?

Doubtful.

Edward would be prepared. He wanted this; wanted me to experience this, to be humiliated by this…and I was.

Only the waves of 'oh-shit-so-goddamn-good' were more potent and so the embarrassment faded into the black part of my mind, where all the non-sexed-up thoughts lived.

His hand was working my boobs over—pinching and tugging and making me dance like his fucking puppet. His teeth attacked my neck. His vibrator was working it's energizer-bunny mojo all over me and I was dripping on his long, pianist fingers.

Did I stand a chance?

I plunged into the most extreme and almost painfully pleasurable orgasm of my life.

No contest.

My spine about snapped in half and I was fucking sobbing, begging them to stop with the fingers and the humming from the vibrator and the everything.

The next cognitive thought I managedI was vaguely note that my inner muscles were no longer squeezing anything, and that the vibrations had stopped.

When my brain finally jump-started itself back to the world of the living I was alone on the bed, arms and legs spread at awkward angles, a pool of sweat drying on my skin and comforter.

My eyes focused after a couple tries and I saw Bella on top of Edward, rocking and bouncing in abandon.

She still had that ugly-ass bra on. Lazy slut.

She hadn't even gotten his fucking pants off. She had just shoved them open and dropped her grungy self down on his cock.

Edward's head was leaning against the back of the sofa, and his grip on her hips looked painful, it was so tight. He was furiously rocking her up and down like a ragdoll and they were both silent except for the occasional unintelligable grunt.

Oh hell no.

I was just forced into orgasm by two people, allowed a pervert to watch a girl tongue me and now I had to watch them fuck?

I deserved to stuffed like a turkey for my efforts here today. Because, as far as anyone was concerned, I was fucking superwoman.

"Get out."

I threw her worn jeans at her, not caring if they hit her in the face, and practically peeled her off Edward, who was looking more amused than distraught over losing his screw toy. Maybe that was because he knew there was still another one in the room, just waiting for a turn on the merry-go-round.

Put your quarter in and hop on.

I didn't even wait until the door had closed behind her until I tackled Edward and pulled him to the bed. I tugged and tugged until we fell onto the mattress, his lanky body spreading out over mine.

He tried to settle between my hips, but I wouldn't let him. I scooted back further onto the bed. He followed.

"Take it off."

His brows furrowed as he reached for me, but I was already moving again, eluding him.

"God only knows what kind of diseases she's carrying. Take. It. Off."

Edward was looking a bit pissy now, in his disheveled, aroused glory. "You didn't seem to mind when she had her tongue in your cunt." A hand fisted in my hair, preventing me from scooting any further up without making myself a very bald Barbie.

And what exactly could I say to that?

I reached down to the base of his shaft and rolled the condom right off before flinging it aside and tugging him slightly above me. His tip brushed my entrance.

He never stood a chance. His hips pushed into me without mercy, like he simply couldn't help himself.

Because he couldn't.

The low groan of almost pain from the back of his throat told me just how good he was liking this. Better than public school punk-alt girls, better than girl-on-girl, better than heaven or hell.

The stunned look on his face when he finally opened his eyes and his brain caught up to what his body was doing will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Checkmate bitch.

It was worth every fucking second of humiliation, awkwardness, and risk I had taken.

He came gratifyingly soon.

So soon, I didn't even mind that I didn't. Was nowhere close. Edward's hands clutched at my hair and back as he grinded into me, eyes squeezed tightly shut as his rhythm was shot all to hell by my little plot, jerking and shoving into me helplessly. His cock twitched like crazy inside of me as he shook and shuddered and then went still.

He couldn't even bring himself to roll off of me; he just collapsed on top of me, his face nuzzled in my neck and wet hair. One hand toyed idly with my nipple.

His hairy legs tickled.

I let him stay there, though I'm not really sure why. I listened to his ragged heartbeat and the breathing he was trying not to make too loud. I didn't lay a finger on him, just kept my hands to my sides and studied the swirling plaster on the walls.

My eyes squinted in the darkening daylight and I caught sight of an unused condom sticking to the poster of some emo-looking man in Edward's oh-so-posh-and-cultured room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I perched on the very edge of Mrs. Drayton's standard green fabric with wooden frame chair. How very seventies of her.

Ms. Drayton was positive, despite having worked for the last twenty-seven years at St. Olaf's, that her post-hippie child status as a former pot smoker and war protester made her immune to aging. She was certain that nothing had changed since her own youth and that we all found her incredibly hip and relevant.

Which we did, but only because you could go crying to her about anything and she'd let you sit in her office with an excused absence while you missed a biology quiz.

Drayton peered at me, squinting slightly. She probably needed a good pair of reading glasses, but would never lower herself to admitting her age was catching up with her.

"Is this about your math grade Rosalie? Because when I saw that you requested an appointment with me this morning I took the liberty of talking to Dr. Carlisle and he said with a little after school tutoring you could raise that C- to a B or higher by end of term."

I took only a momentary pause and then focused back in on my goal. The other stuff could wait.

"I…this has to be anonymous. I mean, you can do that right? Make sure no one knows I'm the one who is telling you this?

Drayton's eyebrows shot up and she set about making me some herbal tea. She was intrigued and dying to be let in on whatever epic bit of wrongdoing I was about to divulge. She'd keep me here all afternoon if I wanted. Too bad I already had plans.

"In the years, and I won't say how many, since I've been a counselor here, not one student has been harassed or terrorized for speaking up. I give you my word that tradition will continue no matter what you wish to tell me Rosalie."

Typical. Counselors always said your name after statements of trust like that, to make you think they know you. I fought back a smirk, and instead settled for a grateful, tightly-lipped smile. Gotcha. She wouldn't go to the police, only the administration, and only because she was a mandatory reporter. She wanted to a friend more than she wanted to be an adult.

Isn't that why it's so easy to manipulate adults though? Growing old must suck.

"I think Royce King is addicted to heroin and he's selling it to pay off his drug debt."

I heard the sharp inhalation of shock and I bit my lip. Laughing right now would not be a good thing.

I had hit jackpot.