Disclaimer: Twilight ain't mine.

Good AU I've Been Reading: Creature of Habit by edwardzukorocks. It's Edward's POV—and it's just amazingly well-done—funny and clever as fuck. Also, there's some serious negligence on my part for not pimping EclipsedbyJacob's story Changing Sides (on Twilighted(dot)net)--which has the most badass Bella vampire imaginable. Go. Read.

News: Waxing Crescent has been nommed for two Twilight awards! Yay! Thank you guys! Best WIP and Best Side-Pairing. Voting should start soon... not sure what the date that will be, though.

So, this chappie... It had to be rewritten three times. Badness. Badness. Badness. But now I"m back on track, and I have some of the later chapters drafted. So onward ho!

Music is necessary for this chap. There are two songs: Chakachas - Eso Es el Amor (classic) & Patra – Queen of the Pack (reggaeton)

Limade below.

Chapter 31: Sauce and Saucy

Estela tied my dress to me.

Literally.

She picked up long strips of silver damask print and filmy gossamer and bound them around my body, before tying them onto me with delicately woven straps of leather twine and silk ribbon. Never one to lack pizzazz, she embellished by ornamenting my wrists and arms with golden, tinkling baubles and antique brass hoops, binding and looping them with an artist's sense of whimsy and the savvy of a master craftsman.

Eyeliner. Dark thick strokes of eyeliner.

"Eye liner scares de'men," Estela insisted, "When a woman's eyes are so dark, the men don't have a clue what to expect, no? They just know they should expect something—and that is good, Sexy-Nessie, because we must, must, must keep them a'guessing guessin' guessin'."

I shrugged and let her do her thing.

She bound my hair with leather strips as well, letting tendrils of curl flare out unexpectedly.

When she finished, I felt like I'd been mummified—but I didn't look that way. I looked elegant but in a savage sort of way.

"You look better than my flimsy models, Sexy-Nessie. Your lovely cheekbones and lips possess your father's exquisite shape with your mommy's sweetness, and you're tall enough now, too. You would look sooo good as the lead in my fall collection," she analyzed, before sighing.

I gave her an anxious look.

"Eh, what's diz face? You shouldn't worry yourself, anyway. I already asked. Mommy and daddy said 'ah, no,'" she spat, waving her finger in the air in imitation of my mother. "But maybe someday, no?"

I hastily changed the course of the conversation. "So where are we going?"

She waggled her finger at me. "Eh, no, no. It's a surprise, Nessie-Sexy. And no tricking Jakie into tellin' you."

She clapped her hands. "Now let's see how Jakito and Nahuelito look, eh?"

Getting out the door was interesting.

My mom kept affectionately patting me, like insistently patting me, to the point that I was almost sure I would have had limp, straight hair if she was human, because the oils in her hand would have weighed down the curls.

Rosalie stood in the corner, giving me a steady but lecturing stare and occasionally flicking an annoyed look over at Jacob, who grinned every time he caught it.

Dad was not present. At the request of Alice and mom, Emmett and Jasper had taken the liberty of dragging him out to hunt.

There was almost unanimous familial agreement that "little Nessie" needed space and a chance to breathe. Ugh. I agreed with them, but it was more in the "I'd really like to sex my boyfriend before he leaves" vein, as opposed to "Let Nessie not be a nutter" plan.

Besides assisting Estela with fashion nuttiness, Alice had actually been quite helpful. She had personally assisted in arranging for the removal of my father, and she'd helped Estela pick out the supposed venues that we would be attending. Very thoughtful. Even though she allegedly had no human memories, I secretly wondered if her years in the loony bin weren't subconsciously affecting her willingness to be helpful…

And then we were finally in the car.

Jake insisted on driving—which annoyed me because it meant I couldn't amuse him with a nice long barrage of enticing images: bare legs, the line between my breasts, the aquamarine underwear I had chosen, etc. My favorite bit of creativity featured an instant in which all the cords on my dress just… "snapped," and then the lines of fabric unwound and fluttered to the floor in a tinkling mess.

But apparently Jake was avoiding my brand of cinema.

Huh, but then again, from the looks I kept catching from him, maybe I didn't need the visions.

Every time the brass baubles tinkled he seemed to stiffen slightly.

Then I realized he was glaring at Nahuel, who seemed to have the corner of his eye trained on my leg.

Right. Protective boyfriend mode. I kicked Jake's seat.

Beside me, Estela laughed. She caught everything.

After a while, the view outside the window changed from suburban neighborhoods to light commercial and then to taller office buildings as we entered downtown. I was looking out the window when Estela pressed a piece of plastic into my hand.

A fake ID. I was 19 apparently.

I caught Estela's palm. So we're going to a club?

She waved her hand at me. "Lounges, clubs, bars—when'a Nahuelito and yo sally out—we hit all the stops, you know?"

Well, I was about to find out.

Through the doorway my ears heard Spanish, English, French, Portuguese. My eyes fixed on the flutter and whirl of lime, canary yellow, orange, and ruby dresses against black pants and tall, dark, and handsome silhouettes.

Salsa. We were at a salsa bar.

I was already skipping ahead to the door, Estela gracefully sashaying along behind me.

The bouncer didn't even bother to check my ID—but this may have been because his eyes seemed to be bouncing between Estela's hips and my breasts.

I thought I heard Jake growl again.

Nahuel seemed totally unfazed. I had a feeling he was used to his sister receiving attention.

My eyes were trained on the dancers as I skipped through the doorway and into the club.

Quick-quick-slow. Quick-quick-quick.

Maracas. Horn. Drums. Timbales. Claves. The strum of the bass guitar.

But underneath it all the incessant percussion drove: quick-quick-slow—quick-quick-quick.

The dancers shifted, hips and high heels and patent loafers moving in beat with the music. The better dancers used the full space available, twisting, dipping, and shaking it for all they had. The sheer energy in the room already had my hips swaying slightly to the pumping beat.

"Oohkay, Nahuelito, go! Enseña the salsa to Sexy-Nessie."

Nahuel casually reached for my arm, but Jake's hand blocked him, a hardened glare in his eyes.

Estela laughed.

"Jake, you don't know how, and neither does she."

I gave a little huff. I knew I could figure it out fast enough, and then there was the tiny little fact that my reflexes were infinitely better than the flock of humans bumbling about on the dance floor.

Jake barely glanced at her. "We'll manage." He bent to pull me towards him.

But Estela stopped him.

"Eh, no. You're a'gonna watch with me, and then we'll head out, but you need to know how to lead, and you won't be leadin' either me or your sexy little woman until you've seen it done properly." She stated these words firmly.

Firmly enough that Jake released his hold on my arm.

But then Estela smiled, "Because my brother—he knows how to give a woman a proper spin."

And then Estela pushed me towards the dance floor, Nahuel's hand caught my lower back, and we were dodging past rounded bottoms, fuchsia lips, sweaty brows, and the overwhelming scents of adrenaline, rum, tequila, sweat, and fevered lust.

And then there was an open space, we stopped, and Nahuel put my hand on his hip and then his hand on my waist, and then our free hands locked.

"You got it?" he asked.

Yep. I showed him.

This was going to be fun. I didn't even have to speak.

"Keep with the beat. Watch my eyes. You will have no problems with this," he whispered encouragingly in my ear.

I gave him a withering look even as I smirked. He was whispering just to piss off Jake.

But then the music blared and Nahuel's hand tightened on my hip, and we both moved.

We stepped to the drums and the rattles and blast of the horn.

Nahuel's warm teak eyes told me when a new break was coming, and his hand on my hip pulled me in the direction he wanted me to go.

And it was easy.

And fun.

And I kept laughing.

And dancing.

And smiling.

He could tell, so he picked it up a notch, and started to throw in spins.

Which made me laugh more.

Nahuel was good—and I mean good in the way that he made swirls and flashes with his hands that on most any other man-thing would have looked effeminate, but Nahuel did them with such command and edge—that they just worked, and then there was the way that he talked less with his eyes and more with his shoulders and his hands and his hips. Thus, he led, wooing me with his movements, and keeping up came naturally to me. I only occasionally grabbed his hand for clarification.

But then Nahuel slowed, pulling me securely to him and into a simpler series of steps. His eyes looked concerned, but the corner of his mouth was twitching in a smirk.

I turned my head to see Jacob being held back by an amused Estela.

Huh. Jake looked a little… covetous.

And then Estela finally really got a hold on him, and from across the dance floor I could still hear, "Eh, no, Jakie! You're not dancing with your little woman until you can prove to me you got da moves."

It appeared to me that Jake tried to protest, but then Estela had his hand on her hip and she was moving.

At first Jake seemed to be reluctant, but then he started moving with her.

On one hand seeing Jake move in that way was rather ridiculously hot, but then seeing him move so with Estela—who had an ass like J-Lo and moved her hips with Shakira gusto—well, that was not so cool…

And then the little harlot did this thing where she pulled her leg at a 180 degree angle all the way over head and spun on her four-inch tangerine heel.

I almost lunged across the room.

But Nahuel stopped me, pulling me against his chest, and then he took it upon himself to distract me. Nahuel did this by forgoing the pressure on my hip and instead guiding me by the leather and silk straps that bound my "dress" to my body. Estela had wrapped the strings in a strange maze—around, under, and through.

So when Nahuel tugged or pulled on the strings…

I would feel an unexpected twing across my left breast.

Or a twang across my lower abdomen.

Or a general tightening across the top of my ass.

I was an electrified cello, and Nahuel was going Yo-Yo Ma on me, only Latin style.

So I was flushed and embarrassingly turned on and also feeling guilty about it.

But then on one of the many twists that Nahuel spun me on, my gaze caught sight of Estela's shimmying ass just a hair's breadth away from Jacob's crotch. Jake's gaze was also looking in our direction. His eyes flicked from frostily staring at Nahuel, to sending apologetic—forgive me, there's nothing I can do—looks at me.

I sulked.

Well, two could play at this game.

I caught Nahuel's hand, showing him what I wanted. He went directly into the motion, even as I caught him rolling his eyes slightly, but my knee came up to my middle, Nahuel caught the thin, long heel of my shoe, pulled it over his shoulder, and he lifted and spun us.

Making me very hot and dizzy.

But then Jake was at my side.

And I was being "retrieved."

Not unlike a Frisbee.

Because that's what wolfy boyfriends do when they get territorial apparently.

So I tried to protest, but then Jacob was pulling me not just away, but down a back hallway.

I considered back hallways to be good things where the love of my life was concerned, so I stopped any form of objection.

And then Jake pulled us into a dark closet, full of paint cans and brooms and the scents of ammonia and commercial cleaners.

And then I was pushed up against the faded plaster wall.

I could taste Jake's breath on my mouth—a spicy hot steam diffusing dark fragrance.

It overwhelmed everything else.

I pulled him towards me and trailed my tongue along the edge of his bottom lip.

And then I moaned as he took my tongue into my mouth, his soft, tangy and combustible tongue meeting mine, and the sweet devouring and pushpull deftly unlatching the vault of endorphins in my brain as well as the wetness between my legs.

My hands forked through his hair while his hands found my sides, sliding down over the straps and folds in the fabric until they found my hip bones and gripped me tightly.

"No, more dancing with Nahuel," he breathed into my ear. His teeth bit at the edge of my ear lobe at the end of his sentence.

I don't know, Jake—I think I like it when you get jealous, I let him know, showing him the angry expression he had worn as he pulled me down the hall.

I saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes—but it didn't last long.

Because I pulled open the top button on his pants.

In return Jake whisked his hand under my dress.

I stopped him.

Even as dragging his hand away made me moan.

Wait. I insisted.

I undid his zipper and pulled down his pants.

The only light in the closet emanated from the thin white line at the bottom of the door, yet I could still see perfectly in the blackness, as could Jake.

He stared down carefully at me as I reached to pull him out of his boxers.

I don't know what he expected—but I knew what I had expected.

I had had my hand down there before, after all.

Although out in the open blackness, he did appear bigger than I had thought.

So, I gave him a sly smile.

And he smirked back at me.

And then I dropped to my knees and I licked it.

A groan.

He hadn't expected that.

"Just watch the teeth," he joked.

I had to fight not thwack him, but instead…

You heal quickly, I countered.

His eyes popped, but then—I licked him—this time lolling my tongue around in a circle.

Jake had to prop his arms against the walls for support.

And then I took him in my mouth in a long single gulp. In response, Jake's breathing became blustery and I felt his muscles tense under my hands, but I kept going, one hand gripping the base of him, and the other firmly fixed on his back ass cheek.

Outside the closet, down the hall, the beats of the reggaeton sent a constant thumping-shivering through the entire building.

And I was matching the beat as I moved up and down on Jake.

Jake's breath came out in gasps as his thumbs traced the edges of my brow and his fingers picked at the tendrils of loose curl.

And I could feel the acceleration in his blood vessels, the arc in his heartbeats, the thickening concentration of his musky scent, and the spiraling speed of his breathing.

So I sucked in faster and harder, and my nails dug ever so slightly into his back as I pulled him even deeper.

And then his breathing stopped and his chest seemed to tighten, followed by the rush of warm fluid filling my mouth, and a prolonged groan from Jacob, whose almost-black eyes darkened to pitch and almost seemed to fade out as his peak hit him.

I stood, and he pulled me to him, kissing from the edge of my shoulder to the corner of my neck and then underneath my jaw until he dragged his mouth to meet my lips, and then his lips enthusiastically searched out mine, tugging on and nipping at my lips and tongue, as if he wanted to try and show his appreciation through kisses.

And then his hand slid under my dress.

It found the edge of my panties, and it ripped.

Jake tossed the thin satin scrap to the floor.

I seemed to float suspended for a second longer than it should have.

And then it curled in the air and floated to the floor.

And then his hands were climbing down my body, fingers sneaking underneath the silk strands and leather cords and flicking the baubles and hoops into a tinkling cadence as he strummed his way down my shape.

I pushed myself up against him, lifting myself on his right thigh, so that I could grind my wetness against him. He moaned, and I felt him twitch against me but not at full mast because apparently, Jake was still recuperating.

But then Jake's hands left my sides, and he slipped a finger into me.

Which sent a stroke of tension straight up my body.

But then Jake's hand found my hip again, and he moved me.

He moved me to the beats still thumping outside the room.

And yet still—

He moved me with his finger in a slick vertical and his thumb gently pressed aside my clit.

And he lifted off the wall, and pulled me to him, easily holding my weight, while still swaying my hips back and forth to the shimmer of the maracas and the bomb bop buh bumb of the percussion. And the rotation of his finger round and down between my legs made me feel like I was sliding down the curled rings of a wall screw—tightening and tightening into my destination.

And then the music reached its final arc.

And Jake's thumb circled, too.

The bass of the drums burst in fury.

And I joined in.

Clenching and unclenching

Biting into his upper back.

And then the music came to a stop.

We heard cheers from the main room.

I wanted to clap, too.

But then I could feel that Jake was still hard against me.

And my body still wanted more.

It was greedy and it wanted him—all of him.

So I pushed him back against the wall, forcing him to sit on the edge of a knee-level cardboard box.

And then I sat down on him, grinding my hips and pressing my wetness against his cock, as I kissed down his neck.

"Ness?" Jake questioned.

And I looked in his eyes.

And I grabbed his hand.

I told him what I wanted.

He shook his head.

No.

And then he tried to kiss me.

But I pushed back.

Though he grabbed me to hold me.

"Ness—it's just—now is bad."

I couldn't really speak.

You're leaving in three days.

"Ness, I don't want our first time to be in a closet."

Then let's find a hotel with a bed.

"Ness, I don't want it to be like this."

I couldn't help it—I felt low and sad—and unloved.

I turned my head away.

But he pulled it back. "Hey," he brushed a finger under my chin. "Ness, you and I—we are meant to be—there's never going to be anyone else—I am bound to you, so when I make love to you… it's going to be like marrying you. It's me making you my wife. Do you understand that?"

I couldn't help it. I smiled up at him, if a bit peevishly.

And then I nodded.

So cool. Let's do it.

Jake groaned in frustration.

"Ness, we need to wait until we're married."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Ness, your family, your dad—"

But those words finished it.

I pushed off of his lap and pushed open the closet door.

Jake grabbed my arm, but I threw his hand off.

Plus, he still had pants to adjust.

And I was fucking fast.

So I was on the dance floor and steadily walking toward to the door in the next second.

But then Estela caught me.

"Sexy-Nessie been havin'…" but then she trailed off when she saw my face. "Oh, eh-huh," she concluded, and she pulled me by the arm to the bar.

Jake emerged from the hall then and made to come towards us, but Estela held up a finger.

"Not now, Jakie—Estela needs to calm your little women," she threatened from across the room.

Jake gave me a frustrated look.

I pursed my lips and pointedly ignored him.

Estela picked up my hand and dragged me to the door with her.

"Where are we going?" I demanded.

Once we were outside, she thrust a corked vile into my hand.

Blood.

And she then she handed me a small bottle of what appeared to be grain alcohol.

She took a swig from the bottle, and then chased it with the blood from the vile.

I watched, intrigued.

And then she handed me the bottle. I drank and then I chased it with the warm red fluid.

Both the booze and the blood made my throat burn.

I almost choked.

But I stopped myself.

And then I looked up at Estela.

She had a savage grin on her face.

"Now," she said.

"Now, what?" I asked.

"Now, it'sa Ladies Night!" she declared happily.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the neon-lit street.

* * *