Author Notes: I wrote this epilogue to show my undying appreciation to all those of you that have read, reviewed, and recommended my fic. Revenge Cake has, by far, been my most successful fic, as well as the one that I enjoyed working on the most. I'm going to be honest. Every once in awhile, I google the fic to see what's being said about it, and I'm thrilled to see that people are still talking about it. I've found so many different sites in the fandom that have recognized the fic, and I can't tell you how much I enjoy finding out how many people have enjoyed my fic. Even people that aren't normally Blackwater, or even Jacob fans. This fic was written with a great deal of humor, and, well, an explicit sort of mind. I know that it's not for everyone, but I appreciate all the fans I've received on my take on how Jake and Leah-two very headstrong, independent characters-would finally end up together. So consider this my thank you present to those that still enjoy the story. It's not from one of our usual narrators, but I'm hoping it is just as well-received. Thanks again, you guys. You've all been seriously amazing and supportive.
Who invented ties? And where did that asshole get off thinking it should be mandatory to wear one in all formal situations? Tie and tuxedo, my two worst enemies collaborating against me. I shifted from one foot to another, waiting impatiently next to Jacob. My sister needed to hurry her scrawny ass up. The wedding party had all already proceeded down the aisle, but she'd said something about wanting a "full, emotional pause" before the moment that the harp would start playing, and she'd come walking toward her future husband.
Jesus, poor Jake. It was more likely that my sister had needed a full pause for a chance to bolt. I had her fully pegged for a runaway bride, and I still had money on the wager that she wouldn't show up at all. Leah was not the marrying type. Whatever bizarre-o thing that had gone on between her and Jake, it was just too good to be true. Leah was a viper.
And, sometimes, I would have bet more man than woman. She was just really good at concealing her dick. I snorted at my own joke, only to receive on elbow to the ribs from Jake. Straight faces. I'd been commanded by the alpha himself. Straight faces and no jokes at the bride or groom's expense. Shit, these things were murder. I just wanted to hear the I-Do's and retreat for the after party. Liquor. Lots of liquor, and—
Renesmee. I spotted her in the crowd, second row, two seats over from the aisle. Right in between her dear old mom and dad—both of which hardly looked any older than she did. Freaky, fucked up family, but man, did they breed hot babies. I recoiled a bit at my own crudeness. All right, really, not going to think of her like that. Despite her technical age, Renesmee was an adult in body. Her mentality was at adult capacity as well. Whatever weird genetics she had, she didn't seem like a baby to me.
Or look like one. I'd already undressed her in my mind at least a dozen times, and each scenario proved the same to me: she was an adult. A gorgeous, unblemished adult. She was the image of human perfection, and she was still human enough to count. I smiled as she caught my gaze, offering her a conspiratorial wink. She turned a pretty shade of pink and looked away.
O, object of my greatest desire. Ever since she'd cropped up next to me when I'd been shopping for camping supplies for Jake's bachelor party, she'd sprang to mind all number of ways. I couldn't have imagined it, could I? It was like she was fully aware of my every intention at all times. Like she'd known I was sulking in that store over a recent break up, and she was willing to fill the gap. She'd agreed to be my date for the wedding easily enough.
We'd gotten together a few times since. I'd invited her out to see a movie, taken her to dinner. It had been real easy to become quick friends with her. She was easy to talk to and understand. She said what she thought in very plain terms, and she never had me wondering. It was like she had no idea about the formalities girls usually went through to mind-fuck the shit out of guys. She was open, honest, and, Jesus, her tits, her bronze hair—thick and silky. Despite the fact that I felt she was responsive to my desires, I hadn't really tried much with her.
A few kisses, hand-holding. Nothing major, just testing the waters. Tonight—Tonight was going to be different. Her dress—a dark red sleeve of cloth—would have been enough to boil my blood with all those bronze curls falling around it, but it was an image in my head that was spurring me to act. It'd struck me the previous night when I'd dropped her off at her place. I'd kissed her goodbye, and then she'd reached up and touched my face, and the idea just sort of—exploded in my head. She was standing there looking gorgeous in the half light of the moon coming down through the trees, and I was just slammed with this vision of peeling her out of this dress, tasting her mouth and neck. I could—I could practically hear her moaning. And then she'd dropped her hand, and smiled at me, like she knew, and it was like an invitation. A sign. It was going to be tonight.
I scowled as Jacob elbowed me in the ribs again, but any retort was lost in the sound of harp-playing, which had begun without my notice.
Holy hell. My sister was actually walking down the aisle. White dress, makeup, girly hair-do and all. There went twenty bucks on me.
"Seth, could you help Renesmee in the kitchen? But hurry it up. Once the pictures are taken, we'll need you back out here for pictures."
Any excuse to get out of the main crowd of people and all the offers of congratulations. Which I didn't understand. I hadn't just gotten married, and Jake had probably already been more like my brother than most people knew. Plus, I didn't want to hear any more leading questions like, "Your sister's finally married. Are you seeing anyone you're interested in?"
Nosy bastards. To all of which he'd replied with a, "Nope."
Pushing his way into the kitchen, Seth looked around for his savior. What he saw first was the wedding cake: a simple, one layer cake with a bride and groom figure on top. Vanilla, no frills. A typical sign of his sister.
Seth jolted as the door shut behind him, followed immediately by the sound of the bolt sliding home. He turned and very nearly swallowed his tongue. Renesmee had mussed her hair and had allowed the straps of her dress to slide down over her shoulders, hanging loosely on her arms. Sexy, but not nearly as provocative as the fact that she'd hitched her little sleeve dress up at the bottom. The length stopped just short of flashing her velvet love pocket and ass.
That would have been enough on its own, but Renesmee had thoroughly prepared herself, made all the right moves to raise his arousal to its peak. She wasn't wearing any underwear. He could tell without searching for the telling signs against the material of her dress. He could smell her, wet and heavy with arousal. There was no barrier between the smell and the open air. The length of his dick was hard so fast it nearly hurt. He even winced a little.
"Nessie, what are you—?"
"I want to. Right here. I know you do too, and this setting was...inspired."
"I'll explain. But first, you should really do something about this."
She moved past me, barely grazing my shoulder.
It was a little whisper inside my head, but I turned all the same, desperate to do just that as Renesmee lifted herself onto the edge of the counter. It was just enough of a glimpse between her legs. I followed her over, letting my hand move between those legs when she didn't object, searching for what I'd just glimpsed. I slid my fingers in, and her legs parted. Her breath caught. Her head tilted back. One hand touched my arm.
Take off your pants.
I paused, looked up at her. "Are you-? Are you talking inside my head?"
Her head tilted forward, a mischievous smile on her face, and then she lifted both hands to either side of my face. The resulting movie reel that played inside my head made me stagger into the counter, grunting out a labored breath. She was envisioning the length of my dick sliding into her mouth, grazing her teeth lightly, very lightly. The pressure of sucking, releasing. The way she made me slick and ready, ready just for her. Ready for me to take her. On the counter.
I worked my pants off so fast it was a miracle I didn't rip them.
I reached for her hips, but the next image she sent through my head made my hands convulse on open air, my heart race like we were already mid-fuck, and I was coming down the home stretch. An image of her tits bouncing with each thrust, nipples taut and erect, waiting for me to take them in my mouth. I couldn't think clearly as she assaulted my senses. Her flesh would taste like sweet nectar, she told me without saying a word. All I had to do was taste, sample.
"Nessie, let me breathe. Just let me—"
I dug my fingers into the material of her dress, roughly pulling the top down. It fit so snugly that it seemed to pull off like a second skin, finally exhaling her breasts, pale globes for me to—Renesmee's hand slid to the back of my head, and she pulled me forward sharply, all but forcing me to inhale her nipple into my mouth. I felt her tremble at the contact. I couldn't take much more of this before my brain exploded. I took her legs, urging them apart.
I pressed forward, looking for the home that would assuage some of the grief of my throbbing dick. The head parted her lips, nursed forward further, sliding gradually into place while I watched her eyes darken deliciously. She inhaled a very long breath, clenching around me. I was going to go crazy from it. When her fingernails dug into my shoulders, I started pumping. And it was like deja vu as I watched her breasts bounce from the force of motion.
But it wasn't enough. I wanted more, and she was sitting just out of full reach. I climbed up, pressing her back until we were both on the counter. Now I could find her mouth with mine, sliding my tongue in between her teeth as I pressed my full length into her, nearly lifting her ass off the counter. She gasped into my mouth, and I nearly laughed, delirious.
And then somehow—and I was fairly certain it was by her design—she fell backward, and I went with her, fully conscious of the sound of her back squelching into my sister's wedding cake. My eyes popped open, and I pulled back immediately. Thought it wouldn't have helped anything. Two small halves of cake poked out on either side of Renesmee, but her glorious, delicate, tantalizing body covered the rest. I surveyed the damage sensing my own murder looming on the horizon.
"Shit. Oh, shit. Their cake, Nessie. My sister will murder us."
"So you want to stop now? Over one little accident? Don't you like cake, Seth?"
There was icing on her fingertip. Very slowly, she traced the icing onto her body, starting at her belly button. The line went up, curved a circle around one nipple and then the other. Her other hand brought icing to her mouth. A thin layer brushed her lips like lipstick, and then her fingertip disappeared into her mouth. Oh, fuck.
All thoughts of consequence fleeing, I leaned down, tracing my tongue over the line of icing to her breast. I took all of it off with one glorious suck of her nipple that had her arching into me, a moan resonating from her lips. And it was more than that. Her hands were radiating images into my skull. An image of my dick sliding into her, her hands digging into my flesh, her head thrown back, the cake seeping into her skin. Her bronze hair fanned out around her. Images of how my whole life had just come down to one person. I had to have her. Again and again and again.
The realization was so large and consuming that I barely heard a fist banging on the door.
"Seth? Seth! Why is this door locked? What the hell are you doing! It's time for the toasts and cake!"
Leah's voice was edging toward frantic, as if she could sense what was going on. Any other time, it would have been real fucking awkward to know a door separated his wild, hot sex from his sister, but he was in too deep now. He took Renesmee's hips and sought for a deeper hold. A small cry issued from her lips.
"What was that? What the fuck was that?" A short, angry pause, and then, "Not the cake, Seth! If you're on my fucking cake, I'm going to murder you with my bare hands!"
If this mind-blowing sex didn't kill him, she could have a go. Jesus. He'd risk it. Who knew cake could be so damn sexy?