Authors Note:

All thanks to EdwardsFirstKiss for making this story a thousand times better with your amazing editing skills. I owe you more than you know :)

Disclaimer

The characters in this story belong to Stephanie Meyers, but the plot belongs to Twilightsavedme.

Chapter 1: Special

Horns. Lots of them. Buzzing, whizzing, splashes of water. Drip, drop. It's raining? I'm wet. I need to get up.

I open my eyes slightly, and look down at my body. No cuts or bruises. I'm okay, I think. My head hurts. It's pounding. I grab the back of my head as I slowly sit up.

I was knocked out, remembering it now. Sighing heavily, I grab my purse, looking through it. I know I won't find my money there. Rose is going to kill me. Fuck! No no no! My rent money is gone.

I slowly stand, gripping onto the walls of the alley to walk forward. Walking down the streets slowly, I try to make it as close as possible to my job. I'm already hours late, but if I can just get there and explain myself, - Mike will understand. He has to.

I almost fall back down to the ground when a car speeds past, dousing me down with rain water from head to toe.

"Fuck!" I shout, raising my arms. He won't let me work looking like this. He'll send me home. Fucking hell! I need that money. I was just mugged for god sakes!

This day can't get any worst. It isn't possible. "Fuck Fuck Fucking Fuuuck!" I shout to the heavens before falling back down to the ground and crying. I feel my mascara and eyeliner sting my eyes and I know my makeup is running down my face. I'd hate to see my reflection right now.

Then, I look to the left and my eyes widen. I see my reflection in the window of a hotel, and Jesus, I look fucking terrible. In horror, I frantically scramble closer to the window on my knees, scratching them up on the sidewalk. I don't mind the burning of my scraping flesh because I'm too wrapped up in my appearance. My makeup is running, hair is like a bird's nest, and torn up a drenched outfit. Mike is definitely not going to let me work. I need to try to clean myself up a bit.

I stand quickly, wiping at my face to remove my smeared makeup, and then smooth down my clothes a bit.

I watch as people, high class and well dressed, walk into this fancy hotel. I know instantly that I won't fit in. But I just need to clean myself up a bit, so I can get to work. Then, I'm out of this fancy schmancy place.

I walk up to the intimidating glass door, opting for entering that way instead of going through the weird revolving thing a ma jig next to it. It looks like a death trap, and something that clumsy, unlucky people like me need to stay away from.

I stumble through the door. Then there's another door which is opened for me by a man dressed in a gray suit. He smiles kindly at me, and I nod at him before looking back through to the open lobby of the hotel.

The bright lights quickly hit me. My head pounds so hard I could throw up, but shove the feeling down, shuffling to the front desk to ask for the bathroom.

There's a woman standing there. She looks up at me, rolls her eyes, and then goes back to clicking away on her computer. Ignoring me.

I huff loudly, thinking I clearly don't need any more shit handed to me after the night I've had. I slept on the fucking streets after being knocked out and mugged. Now, I have to deal with this bitch.

I could just walk away. Walk away and find the bathroom myself. But, I decide right then and there to be just as much of a petty bitch as she is. Never mind causing a scene, I'm used to it. I'm sure pressing this bitch's buttons and causing a scene this late at night will be the highlight of someone's day.

A petty, patronizing smile sets on my face. I stare at the side of her face as she looks at me out of the corner of her eye. She's trying her hardest to ignore me.

She turns her face to look at me but doesn't speak, glancing down at the phone next to her when it rings. I swear to god if she answers it without acknowledging me, I'm going to really make some noise, and everyone will be aware of my presence.

"I fucking dare you." I say through my fake Barbie bitch smile. She smirks. Then she surprises me. It's a surprise because she doesn't look like the gutsy type. She answers the phone with a cheerful greeting - the way she should've greeted me - staring straight at me.

I roll my eyes. It's time for petty Bella to come out and play. I reach forward and grab the phone from her hand, trying to calm down the thoughts of bashing her on the head with it. She stares at me in horror.

"I've been standing here-"

"I'm sure there's nothing we can help you with. It's best you leave before you embarrass yourself." She says in a voice that should make me feel small, but it only riles me up.

"Sweetie, you work the fucking front desk. I'm sure I make more money than you do."

"Prostitute." she says under her breath before snickering and going back to tapping away on her computer.

That's it! I see the object of my noise maker and I go for it. It's a bell. I snatch it from behind the counter and begin ringing it.

"I need service! Service me! Service me!" I shout, trying to get attention. I'm succeeding. I can see men licking their lips at me and I realize my words have a double meaning. If I were ashamed I would blush, but I'm on a rampage.

I look back at the woman and she stares at me with her mouth wide open as if she can't believe what I'm fucking doing.

Once I'm satisfied with the amount of attention I've gained, I stumble over to a chair in the middle of the room. Falling back into the comfy chair.

I throw my purse on the table in front of me, removing my shoes and throwing them to the side where there's a lady looking at me. Her eyes are wide in disbelief and her mouth is agape.

I jump at her, "The fuck are you looking at?" She stands. "Go on." I say, jumping again. I'm slightly embarrassed now, but it's too late. I have to save face.

The bitch wouldn't tell me where the bathroom was so I'll just fix myself up right here in the center of the hotel.

I stand, stretching my arms up to remove my shirt. Leaving me in a wet tank top that's clinging to my body, looking down to see my neon green bra showing through my tank. I toss my shirt where my purse is. Falling back into the chair to take a few calming breaths. I need a cig.

I launch myself at my purse, hoping to god those idiots didn't take my new carton of cigarettes.

After a minute of frantically searching and then turning my purse over to dump the contents in the middle of the floor, I give up. Sitting on the floor, I clutch my purse to my body. Surrounded by all the lint, receipts, gum wrappers, bottle caps, and other bullshit I turned over from my purse.

This is just fucking great. I don't even have money for a new pack of cigarettes.

"Fuck," I curse. Then I notice people walking past me, staring. Business men look on in amusement while the women stare in shock. Some look upset as if what I'm doing is harming them. Give me a fucking break! They have no idea how my day has gone. Fuck! They have no idea how my week has gone. My month. Shit, my year. I've been in hell for so long, I can't remember a time when I wasn't...

Then, I see it. My little piece of heaven peeking out through the front zipper of my purse. It's a cig. It's a bit worn out, but who gives a shit. It's a cig and I can smoke it.

As people walk by, I ask the snooty bastards for a light. Some keep walking, not even acknowledging me, but those who do haven't got one.

I try to be polite because I really fucking need a lighter, figuring asking sweetly is the way to go.

"Excuse me," I call softly from my place on the floor. People continue to walk past not paying any attention to me.

Then, someone does. He stops and gives me a lighter, and offers a kind smile. "You should go outside to smoke," he says. I shrug as he walks away. I light the cigarette, not giving a shit. It instantly calms me down. I close my eyes and breathe. Yes, this is what I fucking needed.

"Fuck yeah," I look down at my cigarette with a smile. I'm brought out of my happy place when two feet appear before me.

"Miss," a man says. I look up to see a security guard. "I have to ask you to leave."

"Why is that?" I roll my eyes at him, sit back on my hands and look up at him. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"Miss, I won't ask again." He steps closer. I blow out a puff of smoke. Jail for the night seems like the way to go. I probably need to report my missing money anyway, even though I know nothing will be done about it. "You need to leave this hotel immediately."

"Or what?" I push, staring up at him defiantly. Not having the energy to move at the moment, being physically removed doesn't seem like a bad idea.

He makes a grab for me and I flinch back. We're both halted by a deep silky male voice that demands attention. Both of our heads whip in the direction of the voice.

"Leave her," I hear him say as he steps from beside the security guard more into my direct line of vision. I stare up at him, feeling his penetrating gaze set firmly on me. His eyes hold fierce determination. They pin me where I am on the floor. I make no move to get up. He makes no move at all. We just stare. I take that moment to let my eyes roam around his facial features. He is fucking spectacular. I mean, this man looks like every one of my made up fantasy men wrapped up into one. Anything I could have imagined, and so much more is standing literally right in front of me.

His eyebrows are knit together as he tries to figure me out. I can pinpoint the exact moment that he comes up blank. But mesmerized by the look on his face, I wish he'd speak so his husky voice could distract me from looking at him. I'm in a trance-like state that only he can break.

"Fuck," I mumble when his body inches down towards mine in a crouch-like position right in front of me. He did it so slowly, I was able to see his suit pants cling to his thighs, his arms flex in his suit jacket as he stretches them before he rests them on his legs. He lets them fall limp as he looks at me intently with a tilt of his head. His eyebrows are still knit together in confusion. I think I even see worry in his eyes.

He is so motherfucking sexy. Who the fuck created such a perfect man? He had to be created in a lab because nobody looks this fucking perfect. Even the movie stars that I crush on have nothing on this fucking guy. Who the fuck is he?

I finally get the will to look away from him. Realizing my cig is still burning. I lift it to my lips and take a pull. But soon after, I find it pulled out from between my fingers and given to the security guard. The god-like man before me makes a face of disgust before he looks back at me. Instead of worry, I now see a very business-like look on his face. He's suddenly very straight faced and serious.

He looks down and presses his palms to his thighs. "Up," he says in that demanding tone. Then, he stands upright looking down at me expectantly. I stare up at him, making a face. He expects me to listen to him? I didn't even listen to the fucking security guard.

I scoff and roll my eyes. His eyes widen at my disobedience. "I said get up," he says in a deep rumbling voice that causes my body to move on its own accord. My brain is not all that happy about this development. I was comfortable. I almost pout.

"I'm not a child," I mumble. As I get to my feet and straighten my clothes before I look back at him. He smirks, and shakes his head.

"If you don't want me to speak to you like a child, then don't act like one," he says in an accusing tone. I just stare at him in surprise. Who the fuck does he think he is?

I scoff. Beginning to gather my things up harshly, I slam things, moving in a rush to get the hell away from him. "Fucking asshole . . . I don't need this shit." I hastily start to scramble to collect my things. I think I hear him laugh. I look up into his very amused eyes as he waves the security guard away. Is he fucking laughing at me? I narrow my eyes at him.

"Leave it," he says, holding a hand down towards the rest of my things. He raises a hand towards the front desk. A guy runs over to us. "He will get your things."

I look between him and the guy he ushered over in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

He sighs exasperatedly as if I'm annoying him. Then he places both of his hands in his pants pockets, and fixes his eyes on me. "He will bring your things." He waits for me to comprehend which I don't. "Come." He turns to the side, and holds a hand out for me.

"What are you-" I can't form sentences. "Do you think I'm a-" I'm heating with rage. I'm offended. "You think I'm a hooker, don't you?"

He actually laughs. His hand falls back to his side as does his head and his shoulders begin to shake. Then he looks back over at me.

"Do I look like the kind of man that needs to resort to paying for sex?" His eyes dare me to respond, but I don't. He surely doesn't look like he needs help in that department. How cocky of him. "Come on." He holds a hand out for me again. I slowly inch closer to him before I lightly take his outstretched hand.

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and stares at me as he speaks. "Steven, take that up to my usual suite." He calls out directions to the man, his eyes not leaving mine. "Let's go." He starts to walk and pulls me along with him.

"Go where?" I ask cautiously. "Your suite? I can't do that. I have to get to work!" I tell him as I frantically try to pull away from this stranger.

He chuckles lightly, his eyes roaming down my body. "Then you'd better get cleaned up." He pulls me again with a light tug, right into the elevator. It swiftly takes off to the number he pushes, and stops at his floor.

My head pounds lightly again when I step off of the elevator. I falter back and grab the side of my head. "Oh shit," I curse.

"Take it easy," he says. He presses a hand to my waist and guides me closer to him to help me walk. I'm paralyzed by the pain. This happens often, but is seemingly worsened by the night's events.

All of a sudden, my feet leave the ground and my face is pressed against a warm chest. I look on as we pass two doors before stopping in front of large double doors. He uses a key to unlock them, push them open and walks in. I see my purse and shirt on the desk near the window, and realize the bellhop guy has already come and gone.

He sits me on the bed, and steps back to observe me. I press a hand to my head. "Your head," he points. "What's wrong with it?"

"If I knew, I would do something about it," I spit back. He smirks.

"You're a feisty little thing." He shoves his hands in his pockets, and watches me with a small smile. I feel like I'm sitting before a predator. A very sexy predator that wants to eat me up whole. I should be scared. But, I'm not. He's amused by my behavior, even though there's nothing amusing about the way I've acted. Now that I've had time to think about the performance I put on downstairs, it's a wonder I wasn't thrown out. I acted horribly. It wasn't out of character for me to react that way. I was emotional. When that happens, I tend to show my ass. I hate to be seen as weak or vulnerable, so I act out, and show absolutely no fear.

I ignore his comment and take a moment to look around the large room. "Why am I here?"

He doesn't answer, just stands there and stares at me with those eyes. Those deep green orbs pierce through me which causes me to sit up straighter and zip my lips. I feel like I'm under a wicked sex spell. One only he can break it.

He walks towards the dresser, and loosens his tie.

"You should shower." He leaves no room for back talk. It's not a question, it's a demand. One that I find myself quickly following. "Everything you should need will be in there," he says and points towards a door to my left.

This is what I need, right? A shower to clean myself up and put on my work clothes. Then, I can leave.

I silently curse my heart for dropping at the thought of leaving this man's presence. I don't even know him. A mental pep talk will do me some good. Get it together, Swan!

I hurriedly hop in the shower, and let the hot water fall down my body and happily rub myself down. I mentally chastise myself for letting the green eyed man invade my thoughts as I knead my breasts.

I moan, licking my lips. But then realize I don't have much time for this. I need to get to work. It has to be almost midnight. Fuck! I drop my head. It's pretty pointless to go to work now.

I hear the bathroom door open. I freeze and peek out of the shower curtain. I see the man with his naked back to me, peeing in the toilet as if I'm not a few feet away from him, showering. My eyes land on his ass, and fuck, it's the most magnificent ass I've ever fucking seen. I lick my lips as I shamelessly stare at it.

He turns quickly. I get an eye full of his impressive cock. He just smiles at me as if it's no big deal. As if I should be comfortable with this. I am slightly which is shocking. But still, he doesn't need to know that.

My eyes snap to his deliciously smug face. I try hard not to look at his abs. Must not look at abs. Must not look at this stranger's abs. That will be my undoing. It will cause me to act like the whore he must think I am which I most certainly am not.

"Have you no shame?" I call to him as I close the curtain back and continue my shower.

I hear him laugh. The closer his laugh gets to the curtain, the more tense I become. Oh god. No, don't do this!

"I'm comfortable with my body," he says cockily. I roll my eyes. "Can't say the same for you." It's a challenge. I hear it in his thick voice. He's challenging me for more reasons than one. I don't know why my brain decides this is a good idea, but I swiftly shut off the water and throw the curtain back with my hands on my hips.

His eyes don't leave my face, but I see a satisfied grin that tells me he is looking at my goods and pleased by my acceptance of his challenge.

"What were you saying?" I shove him to the side, and walk past him to my purse to grab both my work skirt and the wet shirt I had on over my tank. "Do you bring all women who look like tramps up to your room or am I special?" I turn to face him, but I still don't dare look at his chest.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. "You're definitely special." He says, and slowly walks towards my naked body. I detect sarcasm in his voice and I intend to point it out.

"By your definition, special means slow."

He reaches me, braces his hands on the desk at my sides, and stares me in the eyes. I take that moment to finally look at his body. Fucking perfect. I'm done for. I've never been one to throw myself at someone, but I need to make an exception. He is dangling a fresh piece of meat in my greedy face. I'm ready to pounce on him, and feast on the magnificence that is this man.

"Doesn't matter. Just know that I'm two seconds away from throwing you on my desk and fucking you until you beg me to let you cum, "he breathes. I melt at his feet, literally. No other man has ever had this effect on me. I feel like I've been unplugged my whole life, but have been buzzing since I met him. I feel charged, amped up, electrified.

I won't deny what my body wants; even if my mind screams it's a bad idea. My body wants this man. From his words, and the look on his face, he wants me too. He looks ready to devour me.

I can tell the very moment he realizes I'm on board with whatever this is because he smiles, and it's a pretty fucking cocky smile. I want to kiss that look off of his smug face.

He stands to his full height, and looks down, and breathes on me. He then takes a step closer. I feel his massive erection at my stomach. My breath catches in my throat. I find myself licking my lips in anticipation.

"How do you want it?" He asks with that same self-assured look on his face I saw earlier. My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I don't um . . . what-" I'm not sure what he's asking.

"Fast, slow, hard..." He growls into my ear. I shiver.

"Surprise me." He grinds against me, and leans his head back slowly to arch an eyebrow.

"I have a feeling this pussy is going to cause me to lose my fucking mind." I feel his hand sliding to the inside of my thigh. I throw my head back, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. "But you'll be the one begging me to fuck you all night."

"Yes," I whisper.

"Grab my cock. Good. Pump it. Fuck baby, just like that." He hisses instructions and I follow. I get pleasure from seeing how good I make him feel, so I continue.

He roughly lifts me by my hips and shoves my back onto the desk. He lays his hand on my belly to lie me down flat.

"Shit," he hisses, running a finger up and down my pussy. "I am going to have so much fun with you."

His gaze zeroes in on my face as his finger works lazy circles around my clit. Desire jolts down my spine, and causes my back to arch off of the desk like a possessed woman. He continues to bring me pleasure with just his fingers. I feel coiled heat simmer through my abdomen.

"Oh god," I moan.

Before I know it, his mouth is on me. I buck my hips forward, looking down to see his green eyes hot with lust, as he stares at me and laps at my core. He's on his knees with my leg over his shoulder. Still staring at me. Watching my reaction and swirling his tongue around me, licking, and moaning like I'm his favorite flavor.

My body jerks and bucks from the vibration he sends through me. My nipples tighten at the feeling of his tongue moving in and out of me. I can't fucking breathe. This is too good. His tongue continues to stroke, and swirls circles over my already sensitive clit. I cry out from the orgasm that pulses through me as ripples of pleasure flow through me from the glorious sensation of his tongue. I shake and shudder around his tongue as he hungrily laps up my juices.

"Fucking delicious," he says, before he stands and roughly takes handfuls of my breasts. Squeezing my nipples as he does. And fuck, it feels so fucking good. I'm so delirious, drunk on lust, and I need him inside of me now.

I hear a wrapper. My eyes snap open and search for the source of the sound. He sees my face and squeezes my thigh. "Relax. It's a condom." He chuckles lightly, sliding it on his length before swirling teasing circles at my entrance.

I throw my head back with a thud, and forget about my earlier headache. I moan. I can tell he loves this.

"Stop teasing and fuck me," I shout at him, losing my patience. I need him inside of me, now. I feel like I'll explode otherwise.

"Ask nicely." He continues with his teasing.

I look up with furrowed eyebrows. "No," I say defiantly. He shakes his head. I feel his head slowly slip in. I gasp, but then he pulls out and teases me again. My head whips from side to side. "No no no." I'm on the verge of tears. "Fuck me."

"Say please." He teases. He halts at my entrance like he knows I'm going to submit which I am. I can't take another second of him teasing me.

"Please, please, please," I beg. In one swift motion, he's completely impaled me and it takes my breath away.

"Ahh," I shout from the brute force of his thrust.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He hisses, and completely halts his movements. At first, I thought it was to let me adjust to his fucking massive dick, but it's not. I look up to see him with his head thrown back and his eyes tightly shut.

He moves again. Pulling back slowly before roughly plunging deep inside of me. "Shit," I hiss. This feels so fucking good, and he's just getting started. I look up to see him trying to control himself. He looks like he wants to fuck me so hard I'll break in two. His hand slides up my body and reaches my breast to squeeze it as he drives deep inside of me.

"So fucking good." He finally looks down at me. His eyes are dark, fierce, and hungry. He's about to fuck me into oblivion. "Grab the desk," he says in a thick sexual voice. Before I'm able to really grasp his words to do what he says, he rams into me hard, and begins to pick up the pace. "God damn it, you're incredible."

His hand goes up further, and wraps around my throat when he sees me sliding up the desk with the force of his thrusts. I can't hold on to the desk tight enough because of the force behind them.

"Oh my fucking god, yes!" I shout, feeling a violent orgasm creeping up on me. "Please don't stop," I pant.

He groans a rich, deep, erotic sound. It's so fucking sexy. "Come for me baby. Come all over my fucking dick." His deep voice drips with sex, and causes me to toss my head back with a deep throaty moan, as I painfully grip onto the desk.

"Shit shit shit shit . . . yes!" My body convulses with surges of heat pooling low in my belly. I shudder violently, coming so hard; the air is literally knocked out of me. He doesn't stop his pace, and continues to chase his orgasm as he pounds into me mercilessly. His eyes never leave mine. His hand never leaves my throat. Even when a strangled groan erupts from his chest and he falls forward and sinks his teeth into my flesh.

"Ahh," I moan, as I feel his seed empty into the condom. His teeth sink deep into my flesh. I feel his heavy chest, rise and fall quickly, as he tries to catch his breath.

"Oh my fucking god. That was amazing. You are amazing." He kisses my lips. It's a soft kiss, like a thank you kiss. Thanking me for what? For offering him my body? Was that in exchange for a fucking shower? Or maybe getting me out of trouble with the security guard? Either way I don't fucking like it and it leaves me feeling cheap.

All of a sudden my thoughts and the tension in my body because of them cause the air between us to become awkward.

He sits up, and scratches the back of his head. Then he pulls out of me, removes the condom, ties it up and tosses it in the bin by the desk. He holds a hand out to me, which I don't accept.

I swivel my legs to the side, quickly hop off of the desk, grab my clothes, and make my way to the bathroom.

I need to leave. That was just too . . . too intense, too perfect. Then he ruined it by making me feel like a whore. Fuck, what I did classifies me as a whore. I don't even know his fucking name.

When I'm done dressing, I step out of the bathroom and look around. But I don't see him. I walk to where my bag is, and see a business card. On it, written in perfect penmanship is:

Make yourself comfortable.

I don't bother reading the business card, or looking at his name because it doesn't matter now does it?

Oh god, did he really just leave? What the fuck? If I felt like a whore before, this further proves the fact that he thinks I'm one. He just left me here without a word.

I decide to leave my own little note. He said this was his usual suite so he should see my note if and when he returns.