Big love to Planetblue and Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy for pre-reading
and to my boo for real, Carrie ZM for beta'ing this bad bitch that took me
entirely too long to write.

"Let's see." I narrow my eyes, perusing Ben and Angela's ten-page registry. "We have about three place settings of fine china, six pieces of crystal stemware, and a $600.00 espresso machine left to choose from."

"That's it?" Edward asks, grabbing a wooden pizza paddle off a shelf and swinging it like a baseball bat.

"You say it like that's normal."

"It's their registry." He shrugs. "They probably figured they should just go for it."

"Well, they went for it all right."

"You wouldn't register for all that stuff if you were getting married?" he challenges, spinning the handle of the paddle in his hand and pointing it at me.

"Of course I would. The difference is that I'm a girl with impeccable taste and delusions of grandeur. I don't know anything about the bride, but when I hung out with Ben, he drank Pabst Blue Ribbon from a can and ate burritos from the gas station on the daily."


"Exactly, and no amount of Waterford goblets or Wedgwood china will ever be able to church up that combo."


"Okay, which one of these screams masculinity to you? A deluxe turkey deep fryer or a panini press?"

"The panini press, obviously," he jokes before swatting me on the bottom with the paddle.

My hand flies over my mouth to muffle the squeal before we catch the attention of nearby shoppers. We duck into the next aisle, him laughing and me whacking him with the registry.

"Paninis are manly." I get a hold of his tie and tug it, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "They're kinda like the cousin to the Hot Pocket."

Smiling, he shakes his head and wraps his arms around me. "Let's go with the deep fryer. It's definitely the manlier of the two, plus it has that whole element of danger thing."

"Totally. Nothing says 'best wishes' like a gift that can potentially give you third degree burns and a homeowner's insurance claim."

Bobbing his head, he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, mouthing the words to the song on the radio. He's a ten and two kinda guy with his eyes on the road, checking the mirrors every few seconds whereas I'm the freak on the freeway putting on mascara and checking my pores, all the while singing horribly at the top of my lungs. I've yet to bust out that particular talent, no need to overwhelm him only a month into the relationship.

His lips twist up into a smile when he turns to look at me. "What?"

"Nothing," I say too quickly, straightening in my seat and smoothing down my dress so my Spanx don't show.

"So what's our story tonight?" He turns down the radio and his eyes move back to the road. "Did we ever decide how we're going to tell people we met?"

"I thought we were going with the Starbucks thing?"


"What do you mean lame? It's technically true."

"I mean let's have fun with it and tell them we met at a crime scene or we shared an awkward Uber ride."

I snort. "Why don't we just tell them we hooked up after a funeral?"

"Now you're talking."

I laugh and look out the window. "You tell 'em whatever you want, but I'm going to tell them that you and your dog were creeping on me while I sipped my latte."

"Sounds about right."

My stomach growls as we pass several fast food restaurants. "Aren't we going to stop to eat?"

"I don't think we have time. Ceremony starts in about thirty minutes, plus I was hoping we could check in first."

"C'mon, man."

"You starving or something?" he asks and nods towards the glove compartment. "I think I've got a Nutri-Grain bar in there."

"A Nutri-Grain bar? What are you, eighty?"

Grinning, he pulls onto the highway and I nearly weep as the Taco Bell sign gets smaller and smaller in the side-view mirror. "The cocktail hour immediately follows the ceremony so it shouldn't be too long until dinner."

"True," I say with a sigh. "But what if it's one of those appetizers-only deals? Like for real, if they serve me a half of a bagel bite and a quarter of a crab cake, I will straight up order Dominos to their reception."

"Get outta here. You don't really think it'll be hors d'oeuvres-only, do you?"

"Could be." I shrug. "You might want to bring your Nutri-Grain bar just in case."

"Bride or groom's side?" a smug-faced, lanky kid who can't be a minute older than fifteen asks with a wink and offers his arm.

"Groom's side, please."

"Figured as much." He leads me through the French doors into the hotel's courtyard. "I'm Seth. What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Bella." I smile and sneak a glance back at Edward who's sauntering though the doors after checking us in and dropping our bags off at the room.

"Be-lla," Seth repeats slowly, swaying to the sound of my name and holding his hand out to a row of empty seats. "I like it."

"Thanks, Seth."

"Yeah, thanks, Seth." Edward pats him on the back and slips in beside me.

Seth's swagger falters for a second, watching Edward's arm move over the top of my shoulders, but he recovers quickly, flashing a grin. "Save me a dance, kitten."

Edward waits until Seth is out of earshot. "Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson."

"What can I say? I have a kind face."

The string quartet raises their bows just as Ben and his long-time best friend, Tyler, take their places at the altar. The opening chords to Canon in D float over the air and every head in the room turns to see the processional as Seth proudly escorts the mothers down the aisle. They're followed closely by an uncomfortable-looking bridesmaid stuffed in a strapless plum dress and matching elbow length gloves.

The guests laugh as a cute little blond boy struts in with a gray suit that matches Ben's and a chalkboard sign with the words 'Last Chance to Run' scrawled across it. He's eating up the attention while the flower girl throws herself to the ground, refusing to move an inch, let alone throw petals at the bride's feet. An older man scoops up the now wailing toddler and whisks her away just as the final notes of the song fade and the French doors creak closed.

I peek up at Ben just before the officiant calls for everyone to rise. He still looks like the same baby-faced, bespectacled guy I used to drink shitty beer with in college, but different somehow as he stands up there adjusting his tie and smiling brightly. Happiness looks good on him.

The doors open, and the bride appears, beaming in a crystal-covered corset top and ginormous ball gown. She looks like she has a four inch waist above the mounds and mounds of tulle that nearly take up the width of the aisle. Locking eyes with Ben, she steps forward just as the quartet strikes up The Wedding March.

A text from Rose comes in while I'm snapping a picture. Has it started yet? Did she ride down on a unicorn?

Once Angela passes, I quickly text Rose back. No unicorn - you owe me dinner.

Rose fires back as the congregation is seated. Damn. I was sure she'd stick with the fairy tale theme. Double or nothing they go for the viral first dance shenanigans.

I smile. You're on.

Does Ben look like he's ready to bolt?

I glance up from my phone to see Ben take Angela's hands in his and stare longingly into her eyes which happen to be about seven or so inches above his head. The petty in me wants to type that he looks like the Imp when he married Sansa Stark, but since I'm trying to get right with the Lord, I text her the truth.

He's never looked happier.

Twenty minutes, a butchered Ave Maria, and two sets of sappy-ass vows later, Mr. and Mrs. Cheney are officially man and wife and I'm ready to eat, drink, and be merry. Following the recessional, we inch our way to the doors to congratulate the newlyweds. Thankfully Edward's in front of me so I can figure out the best way to greet Ben. Do I give him a businesslike handshake with a hearty congrats? Or do I go in for an ass-out-let's-pretend-we-didn't-hook-up-hug?

Ben spots me first, seeming genuinely glad to see me. "Bella!"

Angela's head snaps in my direction and she watches Ben totally go in for the no-nethers-touching-hug. Her toothy grin never falters and the warm way she shakes my hand with both of hers makes me wonder if she knows how familiar I am with her better half's lower half.

"You look so beautiful." I motion towards the four-foot wide bedazzled tulle surrounding her. "This dress is just …" I trail off, searching for the right word and coming up blank.

"It's stunning," Edward chimes in, saving me from my awkwardness.

"Yes." I nod. "Truly stunning."

Angela blushes then quickly looks down. "Well, thanks."

We congratulate them again before heading toward the open area in front of the ballroom where the guests are lining up at the makeshift bar.

Edward takes my hand and slowly spins me into his side.


"OH. MY. GOD!" A high-pitch squeal sounds through the room and I recognize the voice immediately. "BELLA!"

Before I turn in the direction of said voice, I give Edward a small smirk because he's in for a real treat tonight. "HEIDI!" I yell with equal enthusiasm, widening my arms to hug her.

"It's been like for-ever!"

Heidi Crowley. My former college roommate and unapologetic party girl turned wife and mother. Although many a questionable decision was made with her at my side, she's one of my favorite people ever because she doesn't mince words, she gives no rips, and she possesses a level of petty that I still aspire to daily.

In a word – my shero.

"Heidi, this is my boyfriend, Edward. Edward, this is Heidi."

Smiling politely, he shakes her hand then turns to me. "I'm going to grab us some drinks, would you like anything?"

"Vodka tonic."


"Same, please." Edward nods and excuses himself as Heidi continues. "I told Tyler this morning that if this reception wasn't open bar, I'd subtract a zero from their wedding check and bring a boot flask."

Tipping my head back, I laugh. "Girl, I've missed you."


"Sorry I couldn't make it to your baby shower."

"Oh honey, please. I didn't want to be there either."

"Yeah, right."

"Well really though, I was miserable sitting there for three hours with my swollen ankles ooh-ing and ahh-ing over butt-paste and hemorrhoid pads."


"Motherhood is no joke, doll."

"You love it, though."

"I do and I love my little guy, but sometimes I just need a break from mommy mode."

"I'll bet."

"Even when I get together with my mom friends, all they want to talk about is their kids."

"That's kind of normal, isn't it?"

"I guess, but when I'm out of the house and kid-free for a few hours, I want to have grown up talk over a bottle of wine, not spend my dinner listening to them calculating the trajectory of their kid's last explosive bowel movement."


"Right? Like why can't we talk about normal things like what everyone is reading or which HGTV Property Brother they'd prefer to bang?"

"Totally normal."

I see Edward's eyes widen as he approaches with the drinks in hand. He pauses for a moment, looking at me like he might try to do an about-face and make a run for it. "Uh, here're your drinks, ladies."

"Thanks," Heidi says before taking a small sip. "So, what about you two? How long have you guys been an item?"

"A little over a month," Edward answers, slipping his free hand into mine.

"Aww, those first few months are the best. How'd you guys meet?"

"A crime scene," Edward blurts faster than I can reply with, "Starbucks."

"There was a crime scene near the Starbucks where we met," I clarify, giving him a look. "Edward just likes to make it weird."

"Uh huh." Heidi stirs the ice in her glass. "Okay honey, but you two should probably get your story straight or people will think you met on Tinder like the happy couple over there."

I down my drink, refusing to confirm or deny or even make eye contact.

Her voice lowers. "Word on the street is that the blushing bride is too pure to be pink."

My eyes widen. "Really?"

Edward looks confused. "Too pure to be pink?"

"She's a Sandra Dee, sweet pea," Heidi answers, though his confusion is still evident. "An honest to goodness virgin."

She must be joking. "No way!"

"Crazy, right? Most people leave Tinder with a scorching case of Chlamydia and a collection of unsolicited dick pics, but ol' Benny boy found himself a sweet girl with an intact hymen."


"Why else do you think they rushed down the aisle?"

"I just figured she was pregnant or something."

"Well that isn't too far off, I'm sure. She was already asking me about childbearing."

"Did you scar her for life?"

"You know I like to keep it real."

"Okay, but when it's my turn, I'm gonna need you to lie to me. Like alternative facts, all day long."

"Aww, sweetie." She rubs my shoulder. "You know I can't do that. Who else is going to warn you that your tits might come out of motherhood looking like candidates for an episode of Botched?"

Edward laughs mid-drink and chokes on his beer. I pat his back through his coughing fit while Heidi continues to keep it a little too real.

"I don't even recognize my nipples anymore. They aren't the pert, adorable little sprites I occasionally whipped out at parties back in the day. No sir." She waves her finger back and forth. "Now they look like two table grapes jutting out of a couple pieces of salami."

"Not this again," Tyler teases, sauntering up to his wife. She playfully smacks him and leans into his embrace. "How've you been, Bella?"

"Great." I pat Edward on his back one more time as his coughing subsides. "Ty, this is Edward."

"Good to meet you, man," Tyler says with a nod before turning to his wife and handing her his phone. "Mom called with a question about little man, she wants you to call her back."

They quickly excuse themselves after that, leaving Edward and I alone once again. "Okay. Wow."

"I know, right? She's a trip."

"Friend from college?"

"And former roommate."

"I can't even imagine."

"She's a good time."

"Her and her nipples apparently."

"They were crowd-pleasers."

"What've we got here?" Edward asks as we step over to the table with the seating cards and guest book.

He picks up the instructions beside a large glass canister and reads them aloud. "Tip jar. Please leave the happy couple your best wishes and tips for their happily ever after."

I grab a pen. "What should we say?"

"What do you mean we?" He swipes the pen out of my hand. "I'm about to impart some of my own wisdom on them. You're on your own, Swan."

"I see how it is." I pluck another pen from the table. "Fine, let's do this."

For the next few minutes we lean over opposite ends of the table, him imparting wisdom and me, low-key googling marriage advice. I scribble the first thing I agree with, and then heckle my boyfriend. "Ya' done yet, Dear Abby?"

He drops the pen. "I am."

"Let's hear it."

"I don't think you're ready for this jelly." He quickly shoves the paper in the jar, making sure to bury it beneath all the others.

"I can handle it."

"Doubt it."

"Did you write them a sonnet?"


"Quote Shakespeare?"


"A marriage Haiku?"


"Song lyrics?"

"None of the above."

"Good, because it'd make me wonder if you had an intact hymen."

He laughs then slips his arms around my waist. "Let me hear yours."

I show him my paper. "Happy wife, happy life."

"That's my dad's motto."

"Smart man." I jerk my chin at the jar. "What'd you really write, Nicholas Sparks?"

"You got me. I quoted The Notebook."



I roll my eyes. "Tell me."

Offering no promises, he presses a quick kiss to my forehead and whispers, "We'll see."

"This is brutal," I mutter, watching yet another person stand to propose a long-winded toast to the newlyweds. Nudging my leg with his, Edward cocks an eyebrow. Thankfully we're seated at an empty table now with the DJ and photographers gone. "I mean, c'mon, isn't five enough? How many more shitty speeches do we have to listen to before they open the bar back up?"

"I'm not sure." He gestures towards a gentleman cleaning up a spill by the buffet table. "But I think the janitor might like to say a few words."


Laughing, he leans in and kisses my temple then drapes his arm over the top of my chair. "Can't wait to dance with me, huh?"

"Actually, I can't wait for the donuts to be served."

"You're not a cake person?"

"I am if it's donut-shaped."

"Good to know."

"Taking notes?"

Sitting back in his seat with his beer in hand and tie loosened, he winks. "Always."

A few minutes later we watch Ben and Angela make their way to the dance floor. "Yes!" I nearly fist pump. "First dance means bar's back open."

"Unless it's an eight minute power ballad."


"Bet you a drink they go with Thinking Out Loud."

"Ed Sheeran?"

"Lovers dig that ginger swagger."

"Mmm, no. Ben doesn't strike me as the type to be swayed by swagger. Ginger or otherwise."

I put my hand out and we shake on it. "You're on, Cullen."

Not even three minutes later, sure as shit, the lights dim and everyone claps when Ben spins Angela onto the dance floor. He pulls her close, looking up into her smiling eyes and mouthing a certain swoony ginger's lyrics of love.

Edward grins. "Well would you look at that? Just like I predicted."

"Easy there, Nostradamus. I'm pretty sure Thinking Out Loud is the song for every couple who started dating in the past two years."

"Do we have a song?"

"I don't think we do."

He holds my gaze and gives me that lopsided smile that absolutely makes my stomach flip every single time. "We'll have to rectify that then."

Two drinks, a father-daughter and a mother-son dance later, we're watching the old timers strut their stuff to the oldies and Edward's feet are shuffling under the table.

"Eager to get out there."

"Nah. I'm sizing up the competition."

I look back to the fifty shades of gray-hairs on the dance floor doing the jitterbug. "Competition?"

"Yep." He points to a bald, portly gentleman wearing a tie older than my father. "That guy's gonna give me a run for my money."

"Who? Don Rickles over there?"


"He looks like he's recovering from a double hip replacement."

"I know, which means he'll bring his 'A' game." I stare at him a moment, puzzled. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just amused by how excited you are at the prospect of dashing his hopes of dance floor glory."

"Just trying to see what he's working with."

"What, in the event of a Sharks and the Jets style dance battle?"

"If it comes to that, yes."

"Well then you may want to hop to it because the senior set usually packs it up by nine."

I stand and push in my chair. "I'm heading to the restroom."

"Text Rose to check on Charles Lickens for me."

"Sure thing."

Thankfully the restroom has a lounge area. I'm not a fan of toilet texting, but I am a fan of winning bets with Rose. I grin as I type. You're 0 for 2, lady. No unicorn or first dance shenanigans. How's Charles Lickens?

She responds back immediately with a picture of Emmett and Charles Lickens both wearing sunglasses in his car and Em holding up a bunch of twenties.

"What even?" I ask no one in particular as I text her back. Are they going to Vegas?

Her response is instant. I don't think so. Em said they were going out to "get bitches, get money."

"Hmm." Dog park and the ATM, perhaps?

LOL - probably. How's the wedding?

So far it's pretty fun. Heidi's here.

Uh-oh. I'll text Em to get you guys bail money.

The bathroom door bursts open and the bride ambles in with her maid of honor in tow. She gives me a wave then hightails it to the stalls, giggling about how she's going to wet herself.

Her bridesmaid stands in front of the mirror, primping and pulling her dress up under her armpits.

"So do you think it's going okay?" Angela asks from her stall.

"Well yeah, it's like the funnest wedding ever!" her bridesmaid answers pushing together her cleavage. The first few notes of Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy come on and she throws her hands in the air and dashes to the door, screeching the words 'this is my jam' as she goes.

"Lauren?" Angela calls out. "I need help."

I eye the door and consider making a mad dash myself, but then Angela calls out again.


"Um." I walk back to the stalls, trying my hardest not to cringe at the thought of what I'm about to do. "She left. Do you need help?"

The door swings open. "Would you mind?"

Yes. "Not at all."

I squeeze in with her and gather her dress enough to get her underwear down her legs. My eyes then move to the ceiling, trying to give her as much privacy as one can have with a perfect stranger helping you take a piss.

"Oh great, now I have stage fright," she says with an uncomfortable chuckle after several seconds of silence.

"It'll come."

"So…" she starts, insisting on making this moment more awkward with conversation. "Are you guys having fun?"

"We are."

"Oh good!"

Thankfully, her obvious relief from hearing we're enjoying ourselves allows her to relax enough to relieve herself. But it's a slow trickle. Painfully slow. Chinese water torture slow.

"Ben's really glad you came."

I think I'd prefer the drip, drip, drip over talking about Ben. "Well it's great to see him so happy. He's such a good guy."

"He is," she sighs all dreamily.

We go back and forth, talking about their honeymoon plans until the drip becomes a dribble then stops all together. "Done."

Finally. "Awesome."

She pauses with an odd expression on her face. "Wiping might be tricky."

Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly far. Far, far away. "I'm sure you can manage."

Seven minutes later, she's wiped, our hands are washed and I'm scarred for life with the memories of my tulle-covered face too close to her nethers for my liking. We make our way back to the ballroom and spot Ben, Edward, Tyler and Heidi all standing at the bar, tossing back their drinks. She grabs my hand and nearly drags me over. "Come on, let's do some shots."

"There she is!" Ben shouts and pulls her down for a sloppy kiss.

Edward hands me a shot and speaks into my ear. "Do I even want to know?"

Kissing his cheek, I whisper, "Let's just say I got closer to third base with her than the groom has."

I give him a wink and throw back my shot.

His face is priceless.

The next couple of hours fly by quickly. Between the shots, catching up with friends, and my boyfriend's dance floor antics; this is by far the most fun I've ever had at a wedding.

"He's a keeper!" Heidi yells over the music while we watch Edward square off against Ben's grandfather, AKA Don Rickles in a heated dance battle to Salt N Pepa's Push It. Edward's keeping it classy alternating his cabbage patch with a few well-timed pelvic thrusts, whereas Ben's grandpa is getting the crowd going with some questionable Magic Mike style body rolls and occasional nipple rubs.

The song changes and Edward concedes defeat, letting his dance floor nemesis have his moment to shine. While the guests cheer for the old timer, Edward grabs my hand and leads me to the photo booth.

"You totally went easy on him," I accuse as he wraps a hot pink feathered boa around my neck.

Shrugging, he pecks my lips and slides a top hat on his head. "Maybe."

"Although those mid-air spanks were impressive."

"Definitely a crowd-pleaser," he agrees, pulling me into the booth and closing the curtain behind me. With a wag of his brows, he slips his arm around my waist and a hand on the back of my neck. "Alone at last."

"He says like the serial killer he claimed he wasn't on his Tinder profile."

He silences my snark with a toe-curling kiss that goes on and on until we hear a throat clear and the photo booth attendant knocks on the wall.

"I promised my mother a picture of us, so let's keep this PG, Swan."

"Let's Marvin Gaye and get it on," Edward sings into his beer bottle and points at me to join him on the dance floor.

"Why do you know the words?"

"You got the healing that I want."

"It's weird."

"Just like they say in the song. Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on." Laughing, he spins me then pulls me close. "Guess what?"


"I think we have our song."


"What? Why?"

"Because it's Charlie Puth."

"Charlie Puth is for lovers."

"Speaking of lovers." I tilt my head towards the newlyweds who are full on grinding and making out to the song. "What advice did you give happy couple?"

A sheepish grin spreads over his face. "It's lame."

My finger traces his jaw. "Tell me."

Leaning down, he presses his forehead to mine and looks me right in the eyes. "Tell her you love her all the time. And when you aren't telling her, show her."

I blink.

I melt.

I crush my lips to his and drag him off the dance floor.

Charlie Puth may be for lovers after all.

A rushed goodbye to the bride and groom, a hot and heavy make out session in the elevator, and a few fumbled key card entry attempts later, Edward has me pressed against our hotel room door. Our mouths move together as we kick off our shoes and he tosses his jacket to the floor. I've damn near got his shirt unbuttoned when he spins me around. My cheek rests against the cold aluminum while he drops soft, open-mouthed kisses on my shoulder and lowers my zipper down my back. Gathering the straps of my dress, he pulls them down my arms, but pauses when it hits my waist.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my voice sounding breathless. "Is it stuck?"

My dress hits the floor as he turns me around and I see he's wearing the most playful smirk on his face. "Is that a wrestling singlet?"

"What? No." I look down at my Spanx mid-thigh bodysuit. "SHIT!" I yell, covering myself because I'd rather be bare-ass-naked than seen in this nude get-up.

"It is a singlet, isn't it?" The amusement in his voice is equal parts adorable and mortifying.

"It's shapewear! Don't look at me!" I try to duck around him to get to the bathroom. "Give me a minute to change, I've got a—"

"Nope!" He grabs me around the waist and hoists me over his shoulder. "We're wreslin' tonight!" Tickling my sides, he's got me laughing so hard I can barely breathe, let alone protest as he carries me through the hotel room. "Are you ready?" he asks, pulling me down into a bear hug.

"For what?"


We fall to the bed, landing on the mattress with a soft thump. His fingers resume tickling my sides and his lips move back to my neck. It feels so good, I almost forget I'm rocking Spanx on a gross hotel comforter.


"Comforter." I push him up while frantically pulling the blanket off the bed.


"Eww, get it off the bed!"

With the offending bedding on the floor, I'm able to relax somewhat. I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him strip down.

"Bet you didn't know you're dating a two-time all state high school wrestling champ," he brags as he unbuckles his belt.

"I had no idea."

"It's not easy to work that one into a Tinder profile."

"Sure it is. You could've said 'not a serial killer, but looks killer in a singlet.'"

His pants hit the ground and he pulls off his shirt. "Damn, you're good."

"I know." I raise an eyebrow. "Wanna pin me?"

"I do, but first let's get your singlet off."

"It's Spanx."

He cups his ear. "You want to get spanked?"

"No, pinned."

Climbing onto the bed, he hovers over me and slips his fingers beneath the straps of my shapewear.

I suck in a deep breath to which he cocks his eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

I exhale. "Sucking in."


"Because I don't want to burst out of my Spanx like a busted can of biscuits."

Muttering a quiet 'you're crazy' under his breath, he drags the spandex down my body and tosses it on the nightstand. I slink further back on the bed, watching him slide his boxers down his legs before straightening up and baring every impressive, straining inch of him to me.

"Let's see your moves, champ."

"I don't know." The bed dips as he nudges my ankles apart with his knee and his fingertips ghost their way up my legs. "Putting my girlfriend in a figure-four leg lock might kill the romance."

"Sounds a little kinky." I flop back on the pillows. "I don't know if I'm coordinated enough for kinky tonight."

"Me neither."

My voice drops. "So how do you want me?"

Kneeling between my legs, he hums as his eyes move over my body. "Just like this." His hands skim higher up my thighs and he pushes them apart. "Spread."

My teeth sink into my lip, biting back a moan.

"Wet," he whispers hotly, inching his finger inside of me.

"Oh God." My eyes fall closed as his finger slides and circles. I feel his weight shift and his warm breath fan across my chest.

"I want you," his tongue peeks out, barely swiping my nipple, "turned on."


He sucks it into his mouth. "Begging."


"Not yet." His tongue flicks and flattens and teases until my nails are digging into his scalp and I'm arching into his touch.

He doesn't let up. Not even for a second. Hard and fast, he works me up until I'm trembling and sweating and pleading. "Edward, please."

He kisses his way up to my neck. "Almost there."


"Bella," he groans and I feel it rumble across my skin. When I open my eyes, his gaze is fixed on mine. Tentatively he takes my hands in his, sliding them up the sheets until they're high above my head, pressing me tightly to the mattress. "I want you—"


"Like this," he pants, lining up his hard to my heat.

My hips hitch and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling the tip of his cock inside of me. The sound of his groan fills the room and his hold tightens at the movement.

He meets my eyes. "Yeah?"

With a nod, I pull him deeper.

"Hell yes," he drags out the words, long and low as he inches inside of me.

Burying his face in the crook of my neck, he rocks into me over and over again, slow and steady and so, so deep. My hips roll, meeting his thrusts as I lick and kiss my way up his jaw until my lips are at his ear, murmuring drunken, naughty words of encouragement.

"Christ," he hisses into my hair while his hands snake down my arms to cup my breasts. "Don't stop." His thumb brushes my nipple. "Tell me what you want."

Sucking his earlobe into my mouth and nipping it with my teeth, my hands slip down his back. "I want…"

His fingers tug and his hips swivel.

I gasp. "That."

"You'll have to be more specific."

Tangling my hands in his hair, my lips get very specific against this jaw, "I want to watch you lose it."

His pace picks up at my words.

"Out of your mind."

He grunts.

"Out of control."


"I want your hands on me."

His thumbs circle as he gropes. "Here?"

I moan. "Yes."

His hand slips down to where we're joined.

"Mmm." I run my teeth over my bottom lip. "God, yes."


"I want your mouth on every inch of my skin—"


"Licking and sucking."

Pressing down hard on my clit, he rubs it slowly.

"Whispering dirty words."

"Fuck," he grits out, punctuating it with a sharp thrust.

"Dirtier than that."

"Bella." My name sounds like a warning and a plea as his hips move faster and his hands slide around to grip my waist. "I can't…"

"Don't stop," I breathe, curling my fingers around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

"I'm going to lose it," he groans against my lips, squeezing his eyes shut as he buries himself inside of me over and over again.

"Mmm." I lift my hips to meet his, needing him deeper.

"I want you to lose it too." He pins my arms back up against the mattress and covers my mouth with his, kissing me hard and fucking me harder.

I close my eyes, losing myself in the best way with each slide of his skin on mine, each thrust, each moan, and every colorful expletive he grunts into my neck when he comes undone above me.

"That was…" he trails off, panting beside me on the bed.

"So good." I raise my fist for him to bump. "I like your moves."

"Are you giving me a fist bump for my performance?"

"I'm a big believer in positive reinforcement."

Rolling on his side, he gives me a bump and props his head up on his elbow. "Okay, so weird question."

"Weirder than you knowing the words to a Charlie Puth song?"



"Did you have fun?"

"With you tonight?"


"Of course. I did."

"So you'd do it again?"

"Another wedding or Marvin Gaye'ing?"

"Both, but specifically another wedding."

"Well, yeah."

"Yeah?" he asks like he thought I'd turn him down. "Cool."

"Who's wedding?"

"Technically it's a vow renewal."


"For my parents."

My eyes widen at his words. "Your parents?"

"It's not for a couple months, so don't feel like you have to answer right—"



"No, I mean, no I don't want to wait to answer."

"Okay, so…"

"So yeah, definitely. I'd love to go."

"Awesome! They can't wait to meet you."

"Your parents?"

"My whole family."

"Your whole family?"

"Yeah, my mom, dad, my sister and brother-in-law, their kids, my grandparents."

"Sounds like a lot of people. Will they all be at the vow renewal?"

He nods. "Them and about 50 of my parent's closest friends."

"That's a lot of people, Cullen."

"It is."

"We're gonna need to get our story straight on how we met."

"Probably a good idea."

"This is kind of huge, you know. Meeting your parents and eleventy-billion of their nearest and dearest."

"It is." He reaches across the bed and takes my hand. "And it should be - especially for me."

"Why's that?"

"Because," he grins, "you're kind of a big deal."

A/N: Vegas, baby, Vegas! Who wants to come party with us? Carrie ZM, Planetblue and me at the Twific Meet-up in Vegas July 27th - 30th. Fanfiction is funny button about links in author notes, so check out the blog at (three w's) dot twilight fanfic meetup dot com.

*Carrie ZM sings* You can find us in the club, bottle full of bub.

Not me though, I'll be at the nickel slots making it rain when I'm not fangirling over other writers.

Fic Rec - Beautiful World by Wonwordful - good stuff, pals! Check it out!

Thanks for reading! LAHM out!