*Note* This chapter has been edited.

I do not own any of Stephanie Meyer's work, solely the plot and some new faces.

**************************Nessie***************************************

I'd thought the first kiss had been awesome, but this second one…it was. The first one had been sensual, sweet, shy yet filling, but this one…Oliver kissed me as if he might never kiss me again, his lips brushed along different parts of my face and neck, they crushed my lips, suckling my bottom lip so hard that I almost bit him back, then they traveled down the side of my neck and I felt myself shiver with pleasure—I actually shivered!

His hot breath came in rushed intervals, revealing his excitement, and I shamelessly realized my own breathing…and…moaning? Yes, I was definitely making some interesting noises, and to make matters worse, my body seemed to have grown a mind of its own. We were sprawled out on the side of the porch on the floor at this point, hidden by a mixture of darkness, the looming porch stairs, and brittle shrubbery left behind from winter's reign. Oliver held me in his lap, his hands alternating from rubbing the small of my back to down the length of my leg. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew we shouldn't be making up this well, but instead of listening I snuggled deeper into his embrace, thriving in this relatively new sensation. I pulled my knees up closer so that his hand had no choice but to move from my leg to the top of my thigh; the skirt of my dress had by this time hitched up to a very inappropriate length; I childishly justified it in comparison to wearing a bathing suit. He paused slightly at this new exposure of my body, but when I only kissed him more feverishly he began to rub there too, his hand moving higher and higher towards the bottom part of my dress, though not quite completely under. The touch sent more chills down my spine and I dared to use more of my own lips and tongue, feeling down the side of his neck and pulling him even closer to me, my hands pulling his now wet hair eagerly. I felt him crumble under me, sighing without fear of being heard—or perhaps without control—and I couldn't help but feel smug, knowing I could cause such a reaction to this big strong wolf boy.

If I had been completely sane I might've been humiliated with my reactions, but my sagacity seemed to have fled elsewhere, leaving me to the mercy of my suddenly raging hormones. He didn't let me revel in my satisfaction of making him groan for long, suddenly he repositioned me around him, so that now I was straddled around his legs, facing him directly and getting attacked firsthand down the length of my neck. My breathing hitched, and I suddenly remembered I was barely 13. Maybe. Perhaps going on 14 or 15 based on my suddenly very tight bra. I was due for another cup size with all this action.

I chanced a glance into his eyes, his beautiful black, brown eyes, and I could see the hunger in them, the lust…would he actually go that far?

We kept our gaze steady, no longer kissing, simply staring into each other's eyes. A month ago I had looked into these eyes and seen only one of my friends looking back at me, but the eyes I looked into now were that of something else...I knew we didn't love each other, and that we wouldn't actually have sex right now, but being this close, being this intimate…it was mind boggling.

Suddenly I felt both of his hands beneath the skirt of my dress, moving slowly along the topmost part of my outer thighs, his thumbs grazing softly my hips. My heart accelerated instantaneously, his intense gaze never abated as he pulled me even closer—though I couldn't see how that was even possible…with clothes on anyway—onto himself.

You don't seriously plan on—

But he didn't let me finish my thought. His mouth was on mine at lightning speed, his tongue doing the most amazing things inside mine whilst he continued to trail his hands higher up to my waist.

So maybe sex wasn't out of the question…? I mean, teenagers were into that kind of stuff, right?

This is wrong, this is really wrong, I thought to myself, but my body didn't want to cooperate. I maneuvered my hands along the broadness of his back, feeling the muscles threatening to emerge even larger within the next month or so. I was vaguely aware how familiar Oliver's body was to Jake's, just somewhat smaller…if this is what Oliver's body felt like, Jake's would be… I felt my temperature rise significantly with my silly comparison. Jake was my friend after all.

Oliver's hand had found itself at my bra's clasp, and I began to breathe even faster, anticipating what could very surely happen if he undid that clasp. It could mean the difference between control and lack of, the ending of one kind of innocence, the beginning of…He dawdled for a second, testing my reaction, or lack of in this case…

His fingers moved to unclasp it.

I couldn't think anymore, and my body demanded the pleasure that could surely arise from all this tedious touching and kissing, and my mind reeled in a haze, ignoring all that was right and dancing circles around the wrongness of what we were about to do. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered the conversation with Jake and his 'urges.' I really did understand now, and I made a mental note to tell him so later.

Oliver was still fumbling, his fingers shook slightly, nervous no doubt, and he looked at me once more before-

"Ugh," I l exhaled aloud, impatient and befuddled, "I don't care anymore," and I looked him in the eyes, "just do it, Jake!"

He suddenly froze, his hands pulling out from underneath the hem of my dress and his head pulled back a mile. He stared at me in shock.

What? Why did you…and then I realized what I had just said…uh oh.