A/N:

This was a writing exercise for Project Team Beta's Smut University. A short, impromptu piece that I thought I'd share here. The lesson was "Dirty Talk," but there isn't very much dirty talk here. My brain was fried that day :-/

Pairing: I pictured Bella & Jasper while writing, but you can imagine whoever you want ;-)

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She was so angry, so fucking insanely pissed that she was seriously considering murder. She wanted to kill him then revive his stupid ass, just so she could him kill him dead again. And she'd do it all with a creepy clown smile on her face.

But alas, she didn't feel like going to jail tonight. And maybe he was a little right.

Instead of committing a bloody crime, she took a steadying breath, flipped the bastard off and dramatically turned on her heel, flipping her curtain of fruity-smelling hair on the way.

"Where the hell are you going?" His tone was biting and full of arrogance. Asshole.

She ignored his question and continued walking while imagining throwing various hard objects at his head.

"Why are you running? Can't take the truth?"

If she could have shot magma out of her eyes, she would have. Instead, she settled on the next best thing as she turned to face him.

She gave him the most evil, dastardly, malicious stink-eye in the extensive history of stink-eyes.

"Fuck. You."

She was so sick of this game and this entire arrangement. She hated that he had so much control over her. They despised each other, but couldn't live without each other.

"So, I'll take your avoidance of answering my question as a 'yes,' then." A cocky smirk smeared across his face. "You couldn't stop, even if you wanted to. You need me."

She hated that stupid smirk on his face. She hated that he was right. She needed to strike hard, make him hurt as much as he had wounded her.

"I'm moving on, I don't need this—you—anymore. I have a date."

The smirk that was almost a constant on his face quickly melted away and she felt victorious.

"Date?"

"Yes, a date. With a good man who will treat me right."

If she were honest, she would admit to him that her date wasn't half the man that he was. Her date would never make her heart stutter like he did and would never come close to pleasing her the way he did.

But she kept her mouth shut because he could never know how much he affected her, how much she lived for him.

But he'd made it painfully clear that she was nothing more than a fuck. And she would never admit that that fact left her chest heavy and shallow.

She had nothing left to say, so she turned away from him—from this—to leave. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she refused to cry. He couldn't know how much this killed her.

"Wait... don't."

His voice was pleading which surprised her. She stopped but didn't turn around while trying to stay calm and hide the fact that her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

He was now behind her. She felt the heat of his body pressing against her from behind as his nose skimmed the length of her neck.

He brought his lips to her ear, his warm, minty breath causing her to shiver. "Can your date do that? Make your body shake before he's even touched you?"

No.

His mouth was now at the juncture between her neck and shoulders, leaving wet kisses across the expanse of skin.

"Does your date know that if he kisses you right here, like this, your breath will stutter?"

No.

"Look at me."

No.

She stayed facing the door.

He gripped her shoulders and roughly turned her body around to face him.

"Does he know..." he slowly lifted the hem of her shirt and slid his hands up her torso to her breasts, working the now hardened peaks between his fingers. Her body was always so responsive to him. "That if he pinches your nipples like this, your pussy will glisten for him?"

Oh, God, no.

He roughly pulled her shorts down and his eyes hooded when he saw that she wasn't wearing underwear. He growled as he softly pushed her back into the door and lowered his face to her arousal.

Gripping her hips to hold her still, he dragged the tip of his tongue up the length of her slit, tightening his grip when her knees wobbled.

"Does he know that your legs almost give out when you're licked right here? How fucking good you taste when you come?"

He continued tasting her while she buried her hands in his thick hair. His mouth was relentless, kissing and licking and sucking at all the right moments, in all the right places until she came hard, calling his name in luscious ecstasy.

He was on her before she could recover, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his now naked hips. He pushed into her, hard and deep, and she gasped as he entered, filled, completed her.

After sliding almost completely out, he thrust into her again and again and all of the breath left her when she came around him, gripping him tightly as her nails dug into his back.

"Can he do this? Huh? Can he fuck you like this?"

Instead of answering, she pulled his body closer, needing to feel more of him as her panting became louder.

"God, you're so fucking wet. Always so wet for me. You're mine. Fucking mine."

His pace became harder, faster, desperate. He gave her everything he had—and she greedily took it all as her back noisily banged against the door behind her.

"I want you to come again. I want to feel you grip my dick, I wanna hear you scream my fucking name so everyone will know whose pussy this is."

His grip on her hips tightened as he leaned forward and licked her stiff nipples through her thin shirt. She arched her back, giving him more, anything he wanted.

She was a quivering mess, quaking with want and need as the symphony of their sounds filled the room.

"Come for me. Show me what I fucking do to you."

"Oh, God."

He always knew what to say, how to say it. What to do, how to do it. No one else could make her feel this way.

When he gently bit down on her peak, she saw stars behind her eyes and screamed into his shoulder while her orgasm exploded through her body, her hips bucking wildly against him.

"Yes. This. Is. Mine."

Each word was punctuated with a savage lunge of his hips.

He lifted one of his hands to her chin, forcing her to look at him, never slowing his stride. His eyes were frantic, full of anguish.

"I need you. I fucking needyou."

She was at a loss for words as she stared at his beautiful face, knowing that what he spoke was the absolute truth.

She gripped his damp hair and pulled his face to hers, moaning as their tongues glided sensuously together, reveling in the feel of his lips against hers. She began rocking her hips faster as she promised herself that she would never allow herself to hurt him again. She would give him what he deserved. Honesty. Bringing her swollen lips to his ear, she whispered "I need you, too."