Rating M

Disclaimer – Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight –
I just like to get weird with her characters.

Much love and thanks to my beta love, Carrie ZM, and my wonderful pre-readers,
Planetblue and Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy for all the time you've put into this fic.
Writing with you girls is always a blast!

"You ready for this?" Em asks, pulling his key from the ignition.

Nodding, I stare straight ahead at my sister's perfectly manicured lawn. "Let's do it." We climb out of the car and head over to her front door where I give her two courtesy knocks before walking right in. "Ang?"

"In the kitchen," she yells from the back of the house.

"Psst." We hear from the dining room where I see my four-year-old nephew, Riley, waving to us from his time out chair.

"Hey buddy," Em whispers, tiptoeing over to give him a high five. "What're you in for?"

He makes a face. "Mommy says I make bad decisions."

Glancing down the hall to make sure my sister isn't coming; I sneak over and squat down beside him. "Aww, pal."

"Dude, I make bad decisions all the time." Em waves his hand dismissively.

"He totally does. Maybe your mommy should put him in time out too."

Riley lets out a small giggle then slaps his hand over his mouth, covering it all wide-eyed.

"Listen," I poke his little tummy, "I'm gonna get you sprung, kid. I'll put in a good word with the warden."

Em gives him another five. "See you on the outside, Ri."

Ang is waiting for us when we walk in, sitting at her white Carrara marble-covered island and staring at us over her clear mug of Oh My Chai tea. Swallowing quickly, she sets down her mug and looks at me with her I've-got-gossip-crazy-eyes. "Oh. My. God," she says, punctuating each word with a slap to the counter. "Have you talked to Mom?"

I ease onto the stool beside her. "No. Why?"

Waving her hand front to back, she does a little shimmy while singing Queen Bey, "All the single ladies, all the single ladies!"

"Get out!"Now I'm slapping the counter. "She gave Phil-billy the big boot?"

Ang nods smugly before bringing her cup to her lips.

"Well, we all saw that coming," Emmett chimes in before opening up her fridge. "The guy was a stroke."

I narrow my eyes, watching my sister savor her sip. "What else?"

She sets her cup down slowly, tapping her fingers to the side of the mug a few times. "Well, you can't say anything, but …" She lets that 'but' hang there a moment, looking at me to confirm that I'll keep my mouth shut.

"I won't say a word."

"Well apparently, she left him a few weeks ago."

"And?"

"And it looks like she's not only had a change of heart, but also a change of address."

My brow furrows. "Meaning what? She's seeing someone new already?"

"Not someone new per se…" she trails off, picking up her mug again.

I try to remember some of the more prominent relationships my mom has had in the past decade. There was Marcus with the comb-over and the bitchin' car, handsome Garrett with the halitosis, and Dr. Gerandy, the plastic surgeon from Miami who told me it's never too early to Botox. "I'm drawing a blank."

She gives me a wink. "You never forget your first."

First? My mouth pops open as the realization hits me. "Oh my God! Dad?" She toasts me with her mug, enjoying my disbelief immensely. "You're shitting me. They're back together?"

"Reunited and it feels so good," Emmett croons from the fridge, using a Go-gurt for a microphone.

"You're fucking with me."

"I'm totally not fucking with you."

"Swear on your kids' eyes?" She nods. "Swear on Grandpa's grave?"

"I swear. Ben's cousin Heidi said she saw them in Port Angeles at Bella Italia getting all Lady and the Tramp over some spaghetti."

"Stop it."

"Hand to God," she promises as she scoots her pregnant body off the barstool until her bare feet hit the hardwood floor. "So I called that old nib-noser from across the street—"

"Mrs. Cope?"

"Yep, and of course she was more than happy to tell me that mom and dad are in fact playing house."

"Did you confront mom?"

"You know I did." She smiles and pours more tea. "I came at her like Maury on Baby Daddy Day."

"Did she try to deny it?"

"Nope. Although I wish she did instead of giving me a play-by-play of how romantic our father is." She shudders. "Made me sorry I even asked."

I cover my eyes, willing away the creepy thoughts of my parents getting weird around the house together. "Eww."

Her voice softens. "I think they didn't want to get our hopes—"

My phone rings and vibrates against the marble and a picture of Edward and I pops up on the screen. I watch Ang's eyes narrow, homing in on the image of us, trying to figure out who's the man kissing me in the picture. Snatching the phone up, I quietly excuse myself.

"Hello," I answer just above a whisper, turning back to make sure my sister's not following me.

"Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, I'm just visiting my sister. What's up?"

"I was thinking we could have dinner tonight at my place."

I sneak another glance behind me. "Definitely. That sounds great."

"Say seven-ish?"

"Can't wait." I lean against the wall and wink at Riley in the corner. "Do you need me to bring anything?"

"No, I've got it covered."

"You sure? I could swing by the gas station, pick up some Cheetos."

He chuckles low in my ear. "Ah yes, I'm sure that'd pair well with the steak."

"Ooh fancy."

The background noise on his end gets louder. "I gotta get back."

"Me too. I'll see you tonight."

When I walk back into the room, the atmosphere has completely shifted. Her kitchen looks less like a Jeff Lewis design and more like an interrogation room. Silently, she stirs her tea with her lips pressed into a tight smile, staring me down over her glasses.

As I slip into my seat, I notice she's standing slightly over Emmett who's hunched down, reading the nutritional content of his Go-gurt and purposely not meeting my gaze. It occurs to me that looks an awful lot like little Riley in the time-out chair.

I give him a pinch. "You rat-fink-snitch!"

"Ow!" he yells, bracing himself for more of what he deserves. "I didn't want to!"

"But you did, you turncoat!"

"Naw dude," he touches his finger to his temple, "she pulled that Jedi mind shit on me. Told me she'd show me her birthing video—"

"You pussy!"

"ENOUGH!" Ang scolds us with her mom voice and taps her spoon against her cup before pointing it at me. "Bella, apologize to Emmett for calling him a pussy."

"Sorry I called you a pussy." But I'm not sorry.

"And Em, you apologize to Bella for being a pussy."

"Never," he whispers defiantly.

Ang's spoon clanks against the counter, snapping my attention to her. "So … E.C. is it?"

"Edward," I correct her.

"Edward." She hums. "Is it serious?"

"It is, but it's still kinda new too."

"How long?"

"I met him a couple of months ago, but we've been seeing each other for a while now."

"What's a while?"

I wince. "Like a month." Her brow arches higher so I slide my phone to her and tap on the screen. "This is him."

She does that weird gaspy squee thing girls do, and I immediately recognize the oh-my-God-let's-start-planning-your-wedding look in her eyes. "Tell me everything."

If the writing thing doesn't work out for me, I'm pretty sure I could have a fairly stellar career in politics. I don't go into specifics; instead I play the deliriously happy angle, gushing over how wonderful he is. "You're gonna love him, Ang. He's like seriously a great guy. Super chill, smart, funny," I sigh, propping my chin on my hand. "He's just the best."

Taking a seat, she mimics my position. "Where'd you meet?"

"At a … soirée."

Em grins. "He works with my girlfriend."

"Oh, so he's a pharmacist too?"

"Not exactly." I look down and trace my finger over a vein in the marble. "He's more on the production side of the business."

"So he's like a pill counter?"

"No. He literally produces the product and Rose distributes it to those who may require … medicinal relief." Looking up, I see her trying to piece it together. "Or recreational, if that's what you're into."

She gasps again, no squee this time and legit does a pearl clutch move before slapping Emmett's other bicep and whisper yelling, "You two are dating drug dealers?"

"OW!" He covers his arm. "NO!"

"He's not a dealer!" I insist, smacking the counter. "He's a Master Grower and a part-owner of a very successful dispensary."

"A Master Grower," she repeats, laying the condescension on pretty thick. "Have you lost your goddamn mind?"

"Ya see," I jab a finger in her direction, "this is why I didn't want to tell you. You're judge-y, just like all those sanctimommies you despise."

Her palm flattens on her chest and she looks positively aghast. "I am not like those judge-y sanctimommies. I'm simply concerned, you ass."

"Why? Do I not seem ridiculously happy? Can't you just be excited for me that I'm in a relationship with the most amazing guy ever?"

"Debatable," Em pipes in, motioning to his body as if he's God's gift.

"Okay." She steeples her fingers and brings them to her lips. "I don't know if this guy has like a foot long dick or what, but—"

"But what?"

"But you can't get serious with someone involved with that."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. He's not slinging dope on the corner, Ang. He's a professional."

"He's a pothead."

"So what? He smokes once a week; it's not like he's snorting crack."

"Your father was a D.A.R.E Officer; you know it's a gateway drug!"

I roll my eyes. "Jesus Christ Superstar, I can't with you!"

"And I can't with you. What do you think you're gonna marry this guy or something?"

"Maybe I will."

"Great, where are you registering? Bed, Bath and Bong?"

"He only smokes joints."

"Ooh, he sounds classy; kind of like that delinquent you dated in high school."

Em claps and rubs his hands together. "The shade! I love it."

My mouth pops open at the mention of my high school boyfriend –who may or may not have had a penchant for defacing public property. I turn to Emmett in disbelief. "Is she throwing shade?"

"You better clap back."

"I didn't want to have to do this," I say with a shake of my head before pressing my palms together then opening them like a book. "It's time for a reading … from the Good Book of Shade."

Em bows his head. "Take her to church, now."

"She who beds a big tobacco executive every night shall not judge my boyfriend, for she has no business."

"Oh please." She brushes me off, but looks away. It's a low blow for sure since I know she initially struggled with Ben taking a prominent spot at a tobacco company. Not even her healthy donation each month to the American Cancer Society can lessen the guilt. "That's totally different."

"Why, because he's contributing to killing hundreds of thousands of people a year, and Edward's trying to help alleviate their pain?"

"You're reaching there, crazy train. Ben's not a killer, it's just a—"

"A job," I finish for her with a smirk.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution rests." Em stands, tosses his Go-gurt in the trash then taps Ang on the nose. "You got served, Preggo."

Snapping her fingers, she points to the door and effectively dismisses him without breaking eye contact with me.

"Fine, but I'm springing the kid." He stomps to the door and calls out to Riley. "Come on out, buddy."

"Yes!" Ri shouts and comes bounding into the room seconds later, high-fiving Em on his way out the back door.

"We're gonna go make some bad decisions."

Defeated, her lips twist as she crosses her arms over her chest, resting them on her baby bump. "Can I meet him?"

"Do you want to?"

"Of course I do, he's obviously important to you."

"He is." My eyes fall to my phone, seeing Edward with his eyes closed and his lips pressed to my cheek while I cheese at the camera. "Truly, he's the sweetest guy. Very attentive and thoughtful. He dotes—"

"How is he in bed?" she asks in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Ang."

"Come on," she whines and points to her stomach. "Horny pregnant lady here."

"Truthfully, I don't know." Flashes of moments from Emmett's birthday party flood my mind. I can still taste the Kush lollipop on his tongue and feel the strong grip of his hands as I ground my body against his in the booth at the back of the bar. "I haven't um …" I trail off and nearly shiver at the memory of him kissing all along my neck before settling at my ear and groaning how badly he wanted me. "Had the pleasure."

"Well this looks fancy," I say, eying the steak dinners on the candlelit table for two. "What's the occasion?"

Wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, Edward drops a kiss just below my ear. "We're celebrating."

"We are?"

"We are." He spins me in his arms and turns me to face him. "We got in."

"Amsterdam?"

Beaming, he nods. "E.C. Kush is an official Cannabis Cup entrant."

"That's fantastic. Congratulations."

He dips down and quickly pecks my lips before pulling out my chair for me. "Wine or are you cocktailing?"

"Wine, please." Smiling, he heads to the kitchen and grabs the bottle and a corkscrew. "So when do you go to Amsterdam?"

"In November." He pops the cork and pours me a glass. "The week of Thanksgiving actually."

A small selfish part of me is bummed we won't be together on our first major holiday, but I push that thought away and opt to focus on the positive as he hands me my wine. "We need a toast."

He sits down across from me and raises his beer. "We do."

I lift my glass. "To the cup."

"To the cup," he repeats. "And to Amsterdam."

"To Amsterdam."

"And to us."

I smile, clinking my glass to his bottle. "To us."

I can feel his eyes on me as I sip my wine. Leaning forward, he tips his bottle towards me. "So uh, do you think you'd want to go?"

I nearly spit. "To Amsterdam?" He nods once and I look at him like he's lost his mind. "Aro loves you guys, but I don't think he'll foot the bill for me to cover the event and toke around town."

"Probably not," he agrees with a laugh, "but I will."

"You know that's over three months away, right? You might not even like me three months from now." I give him a wink so he knows I'm messing with him.

Chuckling, he shakes his head and brings his bottle near his lips. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to like you for a very long time, Bella Swan."

"You think so, huh?"

"I do," he says simply as he grabs my hand across the table and rubs his thumb across the top of my fingers. "And I'd really like it if you were there with me."

The way he's staring at me with the candlelight flickering over his face and his eyes intense has my stomach doing somersaults. "I'd love to."

His smile is magnificent. "You had me worried for a minute there. I thought maybe you had plans."

"Nope. No plans. My sister's going to her in-laws for Thanksgiving this year, so my holiday was pretty much going to be spent eating baked goods and watching Netflix."

"How'd your visit with your sister go?"

"Pretty well, minus a small moment or two of pettiness."

"So no physical assaults with grain products?"

I laugh as I cut into my steak. "Thankfully no. She's dying to meet you though."

"You told her about me?"

"Well yeah, I mean … I think I'm going to like you for a long time too."

Forty minutes, several Ang stories, three beers and a bottle of wine later, I'm sitting on the countertop beside the kitchen sink watching him rinse and load the dishes into the dishwasher. My mom always said dishpan hands are a sign of a good man. I always suspected she said that just so my dad would get off his ass and help out, but now, seeing Edward get all sudsy in the sink, I'm thinking she may've been onto something.

"You're sure I can't help you out?"

"No, you're my guest."

"Are you one of those people who can't relax if everything's not all neat and orderly?"

He winces. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well," I wave a hand over his clutter-free space, "your place is pretty tidy. Do you have some sort of clinical condition I should know about?"

With a laugh, he shuts off the water and shakes his wet hands in my direction, splashing water all over the arm of my cardigan. "Sorry about that, I, uh," he stutters a bit when I slip my sweater down my arms, giving him a good look at my spaghetti strap sundress.

Slightly flustered, he grabs a dishtowel and does his best to avert his eyes from my cleavage, focusing a little too hard on drying his hands. It's kind of adorable.

"Edward," I whisper, holding my hand out for him to take. "Come here."

He slides his hand in mine and I pull him close until he's standing between my open legs with his palms lying flat on my knees. Smirking, he presses his forehead to mine. "Why are we whispering?"

"Because," I murmur against his lips, "I want you to kiss me."

Soft and slow, our mouths move together, but his hands stay still. My fingers move up his arms, over his shoulders and into his hair, needing him closer.

"Bella," he groans, tightening his grip on my knees.

My hand trails down his chest before reaching for his and bringing it to my shoulder, sliding his fingers beneath the thin strap. His tongue peeks over his lips and his eyes watch as it slips down my arm.

"Touch me here," I beg, moving his hand over my chest. Goosebumps erupt on my skin when his thumb barely brushes over my nipple and a small gasp escapes my lips.

I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his strong hands kneading and squeezing the flesh while his tongue swipes gently up and down my neck before biting the soft skin just above my breast.

"Oh God." My words come out like a breathy whimper when his tongue finds my nipple, winding and circling around it slowly. "More," I plead with a swivel of my hips.

He answers with a grunt and slides his hand up my thigh and around to grab my ass. My legs wrap around him tightly, wanting to feel him everywhere.

"Touch me," I say again, this time it's a demand.

"Where?" he asks, skimming his nose across the valley of my breasts.

I wait until his eyes meet mine and reach for his hand again, pushing it down my stomach and beneath the bunched up fabric of my dress until I feel his fingertips skim the lace between my legs. "Here."

"Christ." He kisses me hard, bending my body back as his fingers press down and rub me into a frenzy.

It's not enough, so I pull the lace to the side and spread my legs wider. The tips of his fingers hover over my clit, making every single nerve ending stand on end and a panted please fall from my lips.

I barely have the word out of my mouth before his fingers are on me, working me over and up in the best possible way. My thighs clench when his finger dips inside me, inching in and out and driving me insane in the process.

"More."

He adds another, circling them slowly. Almost too slowly, so I take matters into my own hands. Grabbing his wrist, I pull him to me until his palm is flat against my clit and his fingers can go no deeper. Out then in, he repeats the motion again and again, watching my face each time his hand hits the most sensitive part of me.

"God, yes!" I moan, releasing his wrist and cupping him over his jeans. He growls out a fuck and grinds his erection into my hand before bringing his lips back to mine. Undoing his belt proves tricky one-handed, but I manage and make quick work of his button and zipper.

"WOOOOOOOO!" Jenks voice sounds from the hallway a mere second before Edward's door is thrown open. "E.C. Kush comin' for that Cannabis Cu—"

"FUCK!" Edward yells, standing to his full height and blocking me from Jenks' view.

"What's –"

Jake's voice is cut off by my mortified scream and Edward shouting at them to get out.

He's quick to pull up my strap and wrap my cardigan around my shoulders while I smooth my skirt down. I hop off the counter and slip into the bathroom, hearing Edward zipping his pants behind me.

"You're supposed to knock, you rude motherfucker!" I hear Jake scold Jenks from the living room.

"Man, how was I supposed to know they were gettin' down in here? I didn't hear no Johnny Gill."

"Who still gets down to Johnny Gill?"

"Boy, shut up! You know Johnny makes the panties come off."

"Come on, guys," Edward sighs. "What the fuck?"

"E.C., I'm sorry man. We just wanted to drop by to celebrate the good news. I swear I didn't see anything."

I turn on the faucet, not wanting to hear anymore about what he did or didn't see. When I look in the mirror, I see my face is flushed though I'm not sure if it's due to our countertop canoodling or sheer embarrassment.

"Bella," Edward calls from the other side of the door, knocking softly. "You all right?"

I blow out a breath and crack the door open. "I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I am." I pull open the door and lean up on my tiptoes to peck him on the lips. "But you owe me one."

I hear him chuckle as I walk into the living room, giving Jenks and Jake an awkward wave. "Hey guys."

Jenks stands. "Bella, I'm so—"

"Don't worry about it." I spot a bottle of Goldschlager on the table. "What's that?"

"We're celebrating," Jake says as if it's obvious.

"With Goldschlager?"

"What's wrong with Goldschlager?" he asks, grabbing the bottle and looking it over like it's contaminated.

"Nothing at all," I say with a shrug and a smart-ass smirk. "It's just not what I thought three dudes would celebrate with, that's all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I guess I just expected you guys to drink something a bit more manly. Like cognac or whiskey or pure grain alcohol. It's fine though, we can just slap on a few sashes that say 'bachelorette' and dance around to Taylor Swift songs all night while we drink it."

Jenks and Edward burst into laughter and a small smile forms on Jake's face and he raises the bottle to me. "A ball-buster. I like it!"

Jenks pours the shots and the first of many toasts begin, each one seeming longer than the last. They toast to the cup and the kush, to new and old loves, and their sixteen-year-long bromance. By the time the Uber arrives an hour and a half later, Jenks and Jake are murdering a Johnny Gill song all the way to the elevator, rivaling Esme for the title of worst singer on earth.

I shut the door behind them, turning the deadbolt so hard it echoes throughout the room. When I turn around, Edward's sitting on his loveseat with his elbows on his knees, buzzed and smiling.

He beckons me over with a finger. "Come here, beautiful."

Once I'm within arm's reach, he pulls me to him until I'm standing between his legs and his hands grip my hips. "What are you …"

The words get stuck in my throat when I see him glance up at me, placing a soft kiss just below my belly button. "I believe you told me I owe you one."

He hums against my stomach as his fingers slowly trail the length of my legs down to my ankles then back up again until they disappear under the hem of my dress.

"Oh," I breathe, closing my eyes when he reaches the waistband of my underwear and drags the material down to the floor.

I steady myself as he brings my foot up to rest on the couch and presses a soft kiss on my knee, then another and another, inching his way up my inner thigh.

"More," I pant, weaving my hand in his hair, but he doesn't move faster.

If anything he goes slower and I can feel his lips curling into a smile against me. "Feel good?"

"So good," I moan, throwing my head back when his hand moves between my legs. "So much better than I could've imag—"

His finger teases my entrance and his now open mouth moves higher on my thigh. "Tell me."

"Wha—"

His tongue winds its way up until his mouth is only a hairsbreadth away from where his thumb is now gently stroking. "Tell me what you've imagined."

I bite my lip as several images that I've conjured up while tiptoeing through the two lips come to mind.

"Please," he whispers a split-second before his tongue flattens against my clit.

My eyes roll to the back of my head and my hand tightens in his hair and the dirty thoughts tumble out of my mouth, sounding like incoherent babbling and panted pleas.

"The elevator …." His finger slides inside and I gasp. "Hard and fast against the cage."

He moans against me, his other hand reaching around to take a firm hold of my ass.

"Your grow rooms."

Another finger. We both moan this time.

"Slow and we … ahh."

His teeth graze and his tongue soothes.

"Fog up the glass."

"More," he groans and I feel it everywhere down there.

"In that back booth."

He sucks my clit into his mouth roughly and his fingers move faster.

"Mmm. Your hand between my legs and your mouth whispering, ugh, filthy things in my ear."

His gritty 'fuck' might be the hottest thing I've ever heard. He goes wild, nipping and licking and sucking every sensitive inch until it's too much and I'm too close and my voice comes out as shaky as my limbs feel. "Take off your pants."

He's unbuckled, unzipped and fishing a condom out of his wallet in no time flat. My greedy eyes take him in as his pants and boxers move down his long, lean legs, leaving him beautifully exposed to me, hard and thick and ready.

I climb on top, frantically kissing his lips and fisting his shirt while he pulls the cardigan and straps of my dress down my arms. My hand snakes down between us, wrapping my fingers around him and guiding him to where I want him most.

"Slow."The word comes out strangled and strained as he covers my hand with his. "I want to take my time with you," he coos into my ear, easing me down his length, filling me inch by inch. "Let me enjoy you."

Holding me there for a moment, he kisses me deeply, making my head swim and my heart race. He rocks my body over his at an achingly slow pace until I can't take it any longer and pin his shoulders against the cushions.

Hissing, he frees my hips and his hands travel up my spine then down my chest, palming and teasing me with his tongue and teeth. My eyes fall shut and my head tips back as I move over him faster and faster, spurred-on by the sounds of my skin sliding against his and the rough noises he makes when I sink down and circle him.

"Bella," he grunts into my cleavage, seizing my hips again and dragging me down hard one last time. His body jerks and his fingers dig into my flesh as he struggles to catch his breath while I tense and quiver around him, moaning out his name.

We lay there for several moments coming down from our high and letting our breathing slow. He brings my hand to his face, pressing a soft kiss to my palm then resting it over his heart. "Will you stay?"

Still completely blissed out, I hum and he chuckles.

"I have Cheetos."

Leaning up on my elbow, I arch a brow at him. "Regular Cheetos or Cheetos Puffs?"

"Regular."

"Ooh, sorry," I say, sucking in my teeth and moving to sit up, "I'm more of a puffs girl. M'kay, thanks, bye!"

Laughing, he pulls me back on top of him and holds me there, kissing his way up my neck to whisper in my ear. "Noted." A lone fingertip traces down my body. "Now, how else can I convince you to stay?"

Dear God, just like that. "Do you have any Oreos?"

A/N: *Carrie ZM dances provocatively to the vocal stylings of Johnny Gill while Lay cringes in the corner* Let the record show that this is the first lemon I've written since Oct 2014 so my perve swerve may be a bit rusty.

BUT our recs tonight are sure to bring the dirty and the heat with just one shot!

Little Shames by lovelybrutal *Lay whispers* I want to slap this Edward's face then ride it #thatsnormalright

Mise en Place by jawhawkbb *Carrie ZM kisses fingers* C'est magnifique!

So – two more chapters left. I'm more than halfway done with Chapter 8 and I'm hoping to update next week *fingers-crossed*

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, fav'd, rec'd, tweeted or lurked this fic!