Texts From Last Night Contest

Authors: Bethaboo and JosieSwan

Title: The Princess & the Pussycat

Pairing: Edward and Bella

Rating: M

Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. SMeyer does. We do own the insanity below. There is foul language, sexual situations, and some BDSM themes represented in this fic.

AN: Thank you TheBlondeBella for providing a fresh pair of eyes and some beta magic


EPOV

Ugh.

It had definitely been a while since I'd woken up with a hangover this bad. I'd been to college: I knew to drink water before going to bed. I was pretty sure they taught every freshman that trick during orientation.

The sensation of someone jabbing razors into my skull seemed to indicate that I had failed to get any water in my system. Or maybe I'd puked it all up. I didn't remember either way.

As a large yawn ripped its way through my mouth, I became aware of yet another delightful aspect of my hangover. Well, it was either a result of the apparent gallons of alcohol I consumed last night, or I managed to swallow a few tribbles. I decided to blame the booze.

It took me a few minutes to open my eyes, but when I did, I was instantly aware that I was not in my own bed. There was no way in hell that I owned cotton candy pink pillowcases, especially ones with Hello Kitty on them.

I looked at the rest of the sheets, only to see the little white cat smiling and waving at me. Go fuck yourself, Kitty. I'm too hungover for your cheerfulness.

Once my head finally consented to my desire to move it, I turned it over to look at the rest of the bed. Sure enough, there was a tangle of long brown hair fanning around the pillow beside me.

Bella.

I couldn't contain the excitement of finally hooking up with the girl I'd been pursuing for the last two months, and did a quick fist pump into the air. I failed to consider that my body was still rather angry with me, and that the motion would be bad. Very, very bad. I barely contained the groan that wanted to escape at the pain. Nothing could be done about the wince, though.

Realizing I had a few minutes before my body would let me move, I decided to reminisce about last night's apparent sexploits. I could remember flashes of us being in the bar, and me flirting with her as I always did. This time, I was happy to remember, there had been at least a fuckhot kiss.

When I tried to remember the sex itself, I was drawing a complete blank. Goddamn alcohol. The one hookup I've been working on for months, and I can't even remember if she was any good. Hell, I couldn't even remember what she looked like naked. I glanced down at the rest of her body, but could only make out the outline of her as she laid on her side, draped in pink and fucking cats.

Never had I resented a cartoon character so much.

As my dick finally decided to join the party, I briefly considered waking her up for a nice round of morning nookie, but decided I didn't think my alcohol-ravaged body could take it. Even thinking about the rocking motion made my stomach churn. Clearly, I just needed to get the hell out of there before I embarrassed myself and started puking in her room. Or bathroom. I'd never puked on a girl, or with a girl, before, and I wasn't about to start.

I pushed myself up, whimpering quietly at the pain that wracked my body, and got out of the bed. I had to leave before I got sick. I did not want to taint any part of the night before by getting sick. Once I stood up, I started looking around for my clothes. I knew I was a bit slow, even by my normal morning standards, but I knew that finding my clothing should not be quite the pain in the ass that it was. They weren't on the floor, nor were they on any of her furniture.

Where the fuck was my stuff?

I looked on her nightstand, and on her bureau, and couldn't find my keys, phone, or wallet, either. As I passed her dresser mirror, I did notice a lovely hickey on the side of my neck. After a moment I remembered her sucking on my neck there while we were still in the bar, and I mentally kicked myself for letting her do that shit in the first place.

Nobody marked Edward Cullen, no matter how hot they might be.

After searching the room for five fucking minutes, I gave up, and wandered down the five steps that made up the hallway in her tiny-ass apartment. I idly wondered how anyone could live in such a small space without feeling claustrophobic all the damn time. I found my way to her kitchen, which also happened to be her living room, and once again saw no trace of my clothes or belongings. What had she done with my stuff?

Deciding that I just needed to get the fuck home, I used the phone on her little coffee table and called my driver. Thank God I paid good money to have Chuck be at my beck and call, no matter how early or late it was. Doing the walk of shame seems a bit more palatable when you're in the comfort of a Mercedes. I just hope I could make the trip without puking in the back. My stomach was still not happy with me.

After he informed me that he'd be here in five minutes, I wandered back into Bella's room to find something to wear. Surely there was something I could throw on so that I wasn't arrested for indecent exposure. I needed to get the hell out of her apartment before I threw up.

I noticed a pink bathrobe that was hanging on the back of her bedroom door, and grabbed it. It wasn't until I started to swing it around my shoulders that I noticed the large Hello Kitty smiling on the back. What is it with this chick and that damn cat?

Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I blew out a quick breath and shook my head. Whatever. It might be pushing the whole metrosexual look a bit farther than I normally would, but I'm hot enough to make that robe look damn good.

I did one more sweep of the room to see if I could find my shit, and shook my head as I realized she had a small black bag sitting on her bureau with the word "Princess" in bright pink glitter. In the months that I had been practically stalking this girl, I had never once gotten the impression that she was that girly, but her apartment was proving her to be just as bad as Rosalie.

I put the damn robe on, and tried hard not to think about the waving pussy on the back, and went to the front of her apartment building to wait for Chuck. I barely made it out the front door before throwing up in the bushes. At least it was better I killed the plants than make my car smell like vodka and acid.

Chuck pulled up a few seconds later, and I strode over to the car. I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes widened and shoulders shook as he took in my outfit.

"Fuck off, Chuck. Bitch stole my clothes and shit," I said, unable to keep the venom out of my voice.

He snorted lightly before saying, "I said nothing, sir. Absolutely nothing. It's a quite fetching color on you." I could hear his breath escaping through his nose in loud bursts, demonstrating his inability to keep from laughing at me.

"Give me your phone, Chuckles," I demanded, holding my hand out.

I leaned back in the seat, finally, and winced. My back stung from the contact, like it had been scratched to shit. What the hell did Bella do to me last night? Did she really have to claw my back up?

Annoyed, I blew out a breath, and leaned forward slightly so I wasn't touching my back to the seat. I pulled up Emmett's phone number as I sat uncomfortably for the rest of the ride back to our condo.

I sent him a quick text to prepare him for my arrival, and inform him that I'd won our damn bet. "That cute girl I hooked up with last night clawed my back to hell and gave me a hickey. I look like a white trash warewolf victim."


"Bella a little feisty?" Emmett couldn't wait for me to be home for fucking five seconds before letting the question fly. He was actually hovering near the door as I stumbled in, feeling like utter shit and looking even worse. I just hoped to god that Emmett wouldn't decide to record this walk of shame for posterity. Could you get any worse than a pink Hello Kitty robe? I didn't think so.

I wanted to find the energy to tell him off, but it seemed to be beyond me at that moment in time. "I need a shower and about a gallon of coffee, in that order," I told him, not even caring how surly and ill-tempered I sounded. I was about ten steps past hungover.

"I should have never doubted you," Emmett continued, his voice way too fucking loud. "You're the master. Bella never stood a chance once you turned on the Edward Cullen charm. So she was a wildcat, huh? You can really pick 'em, I'll give you that, Cullen. You can spot the nymphos from a mile off."

I was beginning to think that Emmett might not be wrong. While she looked laidback enough, clearly from how much my back fucking hurt, she was everything he'd said and more. Except that I unfortunately didn't remember a thing—except for long brown hair and tight black leather pants. It was fucking karma that after all this time lusting after Isabella, I couldn't even remember what it had felt like to have her.

"So, you did sleep with her, right?" Emmett asked.

I thought I had, but god, I wished I could remember just some of it—at least what she'd looked like naked. I felt just as unsatisfied as I'd felt the night before, and after all these months, I still didn't know exactly what it felt like to sink into her. Or I would, if I could just fucking remember anything.

"Of course. I need a shower. And coffee—it better be ready when I get out."

"Dude, what you need is to take that robe off before your dick literally shrivels up."


I was finally shedding my Hello Kitty wardrobe in the big marble bathroom when, as the cotton slid over my back, I couldn't help but grimace in pain. These scratches really fucking hurt.

Trying to see the wounds in the mirror, I craned my head over my shoulder, but I couldn't get a good enough glimpse at them. Finally, I gave up. "Emmett, get your ass in here," I yelled through the open doorway.

He popped in his head in a few seconds later. It was a testament to how much shit we'd waded through together that he didn't even blink twice at my nakedness. I turned my bare ass to him and asked, "do you think I should put something on these? They hurt like a fucking bitch."

"Holy shit," Emmett exclaimed and the surprise in his voice as he prodded at the scratches made me worried. "These aren't from fingernails, I don't think. They look. . .different."

"What do you mean different?" I couldn't help the fear in my voice. What the fuck had that bitch done to me?

"Well. Um. I hate to say this, but I've only seen marks like these once before—and well, what do you remember about last night, man?"

That was so not good. I still didn't want to admit to Emmett that while I was pretty damn sure I'd finally bagged Bella, I didn't actually remember any of it. Without a single memory, I definitely wasn't going to win the bet. "Bella and I of course."

"I saw this porn once. I didn't know it was some weird sado-masochistic thing before I put it in. But that sort of looks like how the chick's back looked after some guy used a cat-o'-nine tails on her."

I didn't say a word—and neither did Emmett. "Shit," I finally swore, turning towards my best friend. "She fucking whipped me?"

"You don't remember?"

"Fuck, no. Not really. Tiny glimpses. That's it."

"Dude, something fucked up happened to you last night."

"No shit. But I want to know, how did I go from marginally sober to so wasted I can't remember getting whipped?"

Emmett smirked at this, and the sinking feeling I'd had that this epic hangover was his fault was confirmed. "You did this."

He shrugged. "It was a bet. You were going to win, so I suggested we do some celebratory shots. You took 151 and I bribed the waitress to give me water instead."

"You should be really fucking grateful I'm in too much physical anguish to punch you right now, because I'd really like to."

"I'm sure you'll make good on it sometime," Emmett said, cracking a smile. "And I'll take it because I deserve it."

"Not going to argue with that. But what I really want to know is what the fuck is wrong with our sweet little bartender, Bella Swan. How could I not realize she was so goddamn kinky?"

"It's always the quiet ones. You know that," Emmett chuckled, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"I guess there's something to that, but I need to know what happened. I'm going to go back over there."

"Let me guess. You bailed before she woke up."

I gave him my patented I'm Edward Cullen and fuck you too smile. "That robe? Walk of shame in action. And now I've got to return the property I borrowed."


I knocked on the door with purpose, but not anger. At least not yet. Bella definitely had some explaining to do, but I wasn't angry quite yet. I was still hoping that we could do a repeat of the night before, without the whips, so I could at least remember what it felt like to have her.

"Hello, Princess. I'm happy you seem alive today. Looks like I'm worth your time after all," Bella said after opening the door. Maybe she didn't appreciate that I'd ditched this morning.

Okay, maybe I needed to worry more about her being angry that I'd left without waking her this morning. "Good morning, Bella. And yes, I'm alive. Barely."

"You were in some seriously rough shape when I found you on my doorstep last night. I was worried... until I woke up and found you'd vanished."

"My friend, Emmett. He thought it would be amusing to get me totally wasted before I met up with you. He's clearly a moron. And I didn't leave because I didn't want to see you," I finally admitted. "I left because I felt horrible. I needed to get home, take a shower. Remember what how to feel human. So, are you going to invite me in or am I still in the doghouse?"

She looked at me for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure you're out of the doghouse, but I have your keys, wallet, and phone, so you might as well come in while I fetch them, Princess."

I didn't know what it was that made me wince when she called me that, but I just knew that I didn't like it one fucking bit.

I followed her into the apartment, feeling like this morning when I'd snuck out had been ages ago, not only an hour or so before. "You have my stuff? Why couldn't I find it this morning?" What I mean, Isabella Swan, is why was I forced to wear a pink Hello Kitty robe home?

"I don't know, Princess. They were sitting right on my damn dresser. It's not like I was hiding them... did you even look?" She asked, as she came back into the room holding that small black Princess bag that I'd seen on her dresser this morning.

"That's not mine," I told her flatly, suddenly beginning to realize why she kept calling me that damned name, but still not sure why it made me so uneasy. Bella held the bag out to me, and I opened it and dumped it out on her couch, and sure enough: my phone, my wallet, my keys. But no clothes. Apparently she was still holding those hostage. "And my clothes?"

"Well, it was sitting next to you when I found you, and neither the bag, nor the expensive phone inside belong to me. If it's not yours, who the hell does it belong to?"

"The stuff inside is mine," I admitted, before I realized just what she'd said. "Wait. You found me? We didn't meet up? I didn't come get you at 3? With the car?"

Bella's eyes widened a bit, and the corners of her mouth twitched. She seemed to be holding in a laugh, but I didn't understand what she could find humorous about this situation. "Um, no. I waited for you for about twenty minutes after my shift, and finally gave up on your sorry ass. Imagine my surprise when I found said ass, completely fucking naked, on the floor outside my door. You were completely passed out."

I didn't know what to say. "Fuck you, Emmett," I murmured under my breath. "This is all your fault. You and your 'celebratory shots.'" I paused. "So, you didn't take my clothes off? That wasn't you? Who was it then?"

She blinked a few times, and the shaking of her shoulders clearly contradicted the concerned expression she was trying to force her face into displaying. "I honestly don't know. It was a bit disconcerting to see you here when I got home. Your back had these nasty marks on it, and I knew I couldn't just send you home, no matter how pissed I was that you stood me up, so I took you inside, disinfected the cuts on your back, and then put some ointment on it before putting you to bed. I didn't have any pajama bottoms I thought would fit you, and I didn't want to risk putting anything on the wounds, so I just let you, well, face plant on my bed naked."

My knees gave out on me, and I collapsed onto the couch, my head in my hands. "My god," I whispered. "What the fuck happened to me, Bella?"

"I really don't know, Edward. Maybe you could tell me what you remember from last night?" She asked.

I sighed, and then began to tell her what I could recall through the haze of alcohol from the night before.


Twelve hours earlier . . .

"Dude, when the fuck are you going to get up on that shit?"

I rolled my eyes at Emmett's annoyance and took a drink of scotch, which only reminded me why I was even here—and it definitely wasn't for the liquor. This dump wouldn't know top shelf if it hit them in the fucking face.

No, we weren't here for the booze. Or the bullshit hipster, bargain-basement atmosphere. When Emmett and I ventured into Brooklyn, we had good reasons for doing so, and my reason was standing right behind the bar, tossing back a gorgeous mane of hair, laughing with the patrons as she served them.

Bella Swan.

It had been a long ass two months since I'd seen her the first time, and even though I was Edward Cullen and no woman had ever turned me down, I couldn't seem to get the girl to say more than one word to me—and unfortunately that word wasn't even "yes." It was only, "no."

"If anyone else finds out that you've been trying to bag a girl for two months, you're never going to be able to show your face in the Upper East Side ever again."

I was way too fucking aware of it. Every move that had worked for my usual crop of models and socialites had fallen flat with this girl—and it wasn't for lack of attempts. At first, I'd been my suave, charming self, never believing that this wouldn't be enough. She'd only taken one look at me and told me "No," flatly and unequivocally.

I'd tried to forget her, but when her face swam in my head even when I slept, I'd sent roses and a request to have dinner with me at Butter. She'd said no, of course. I'd continued to shower her with gifts—Belgian chocolates, French lingerie, bottles of Cristal, dozens of bouquets of flowers, even a pair of diamond and platinum earrings from Tiffany's—until Emmett had finally suggested that maybe the "usual" wouldn't work for this girl. It was then that I'd gotten the private investigator that Cullen Industries kept on retainer involved. I would crack this girl, if only because I couldn't bear to lose. But none of his information had uncovered why she wouldn't go out with me.

And as the weeks passed, I begun to realize that it wasn't just the game or the chase that drove me. Bella was like a drug and I was stuck in fucking rehab, craving only her.

I took another long swallow and watched her, my eyes never leaving her face—ok, that was a lie. She had a gorgeous ass and an even better pair of tits, and I looked at those too. But it was her face that fascinated me. She was definitely beautiful—even Emmett could admit this, and he was dating the most beautiful socialite on the Upper East Side—but it wasn't just her beauty that made me want her so damn desperately. I wanted that smile to shine on me; I wanted those tiny, elegant hands to rip my clothes off while I feasted on every inch of that vanilla ice cream skin.

I grimaced as Emmett continued, apparently deciding that my lack of a response was no reason to shut his fucking trap. "Rose said you even turned down Tanya the other day. I never thought I'd see that day that happened."

I just really hoped that Tanya wouldn't blab that it hadn't been for a lack of trying that I'd turned her down. We'd made it to the bed but my total disinterest had pretty much ended the encounter before it even began. I'd bribed her to keep her lips shut about the entire sordid evening with the pair of earrings that Bella had sent back—a scenario that would have been ironically hilarious if not for my incredible sexual appetite for the only girl who didn't want me.

"All I'm saying," Emmett continued, "is that you can't get in her pants if you don't get your ass over there and try."

"Fuck," I snapped savagely at him, "if the last two months isn't trying, I wouldn't know trying if it snuck up and bit me on the ass."

"You've sent her a bunch of presents and then creepily had your dad's PI follow her around for a week. That's not trying."

My fingers tightened on the glass, and I was surprised the cheap shit didn't shatter. "What the fuck would you like me to do then? What did you do to snag the great Rosalie Hale?"

Emmett shrugged, looking relaxed and like he didn't have a care in the world. And he probably didn't, I thought, he was getting prime pussy on a regular basis, where I was actually forced to beat off in the shower. It was nearly unforgivable.

"All I'm saying is that with a girl like that," Emmett gestured towards Bella at the bar, "you can't just send a bunch of presents and expect her to fall like a ripe apple into your lap. You've got to actually talk to her."

"I did that first," I retorted. "I fucking tried and she turned me down flat."

"And then you promptly abandoned that plan for a parade of expensive presents." I hated to admit that Emmett might have a point. "Your problem is that you're afraid to put it out there, afraid to talk to her and have her shut you down in person. But that's what she wants. She wants you to actually try to get to know her. And you do, right?"

I really, really did not want to tell Emmett the truth. I was Edward Cullen, and I definitely had an image to protect, but Bella had totally unmanned me. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Yes. I do. But she won't let me fucking get in."

"Dude. You're already in." Emmett gestured to the bar around us. "You've just got to get your pansy private school ass down there and talk to her."

I sighed. "Fine. I suppose I can do that."

"And," Emmett said, gesturing to the watch on my wrist, "let's make it interesting, shall we? Rose and I have a little side bet going on your quest—you and I should make one too. Just to keep things. . .interesting."

I had been betting with Emmett since we were six and figured out what gambling was. It was one of our favorite pastimes, and he knew me better than to know that I'd turn him down. "You bag her tonight, I'll buy you another Cartier. If you don't, you give me yours."

I almost self-consciously grabbed at my custom ordered platinum Tank watch. I loved this watch. It was a quintessential Edward Cullen piece—classy and expensive. Any other bet, and I would have agreed without even thinking. But after two months of desperately pursuing Bella Swan, I had gotten nowhere. This might be a very good bet for me to lose my favorite watch on, yet, I couldn't actually bring myself to demonstrate how little confidence I had to Emmett, who would never let me forget it. Pride, I decided regretfully, eyeing the beautiful timepiece on my wrist, was worth more than money could ever buy.

"You've got a deal," I told Emmett, extending my hand, which he shook roughly. Emmett might be a fourth generation McCarty and rich as Croesus, but he still occasionally reeked of the Irish roots he'd so conveniently forgotten.

As I stood and downed the rest of my godawful Scotch, Emmett lifted his glass in a mock salute. "Good luck, my friend, you're going to need it."


The crowd around the bar was just as I expected—vaguely disgusting with no respect for personal space. As I'd perched on my stool at the end and patiently waited for Bella to have a free moment, I'd been approached by several women, all clearly drunk and clearly advertising. I normally wouldn't have turned them down, but I was here for one lady in particular, and I wasn't entirely sure that I wouldn't need a tetanus shot if I took them up on any of their offers.

Finally, around 1 AM, the rush at the bar slowed and Bella inevitably had to make her way over by me to refill some of her supplies. I'd picked this particular spot not only to keep my distance from the unwashed miscreants who seemed to frequent this dive, but also because I knew from my observations over the last few months that she would have to make her way over here eventually.

It was warm in the bar, and as Bella walked over, I could see her skin glistening with sweat along her collarbone, and I licked my lips, imagining the sweet salty tang of her skin. My hope that she'd noticed my arrival and had been waiting with bated breath to speak to me died a fast death when she spotted me and literally groaned. And not in the good way that I imagined she would when I sank into her.

"Not you, too." She said it without a lot of heat though, and I felt reasonably sure that some part of her enjoyed our little game. Though, I was definitely sure she'd enjoy it more when she finally stopped fighting the animal attraction between us.

"Good evening, Isabella," I said politely.

"It's Bella, like I've told you before," she said shortly, busying her hands with a tray of glasses. But the emphatic nature of her rejection didn't quite seem to be there tonight, and I jumped all over that. I knew when a girl wanted me, but didn't want to admit it. Most girls couldn't handle the way Edward Cullen operated and so they halfheartedly pushed me away. However, they always ended up loving it in the end.

"I apologize. Bella it is," I said smoothly, reaching over the dirty bar and grabbing her damp hand in mine. "A good evening to you, Bella. Do you have a break later? I'd like to spend it with you."

She eyed me warily. "I do, but I don't know why I'd want you to."

"You don't know me very well, but typically my reputation precedes me—and I'm renowned for my perseverance. I will get you to talk to me, Bella."

"You're not ever going to give up, are you?"

I shook my head. "I'm likely the most tenacious man you've ever met, sweetheart. Let me prove it to you."

She laughed a little at that, and I took it as a good sign. She also hadn't grabbed her hand back, yet, and this was the longest we'd ever touched. It was probably a horribly pussy-whipped sign of how far gone I was that I knew this—or that I felt a thrill of accomplishment as I realized it. "I'm determined to win you," I admitted to her. "You send me into a tailspin."

Jaw set, she looked at me hard in the eyes for a good long moment, and then sighed, as I shamelessly caressed her hand. I wondered if she could feel the same sparks I could—and how could she not? They were dancing up my skin and down hers, like a whole host of shooting stars. "Fine," she said. "My break's in ten minutes. Meet me at the back door."

I nodded my agreement. "Until then, my lovely Bella."

I spent six of the allotted ten minutes in the men's restroom, carefully re-rumpling my bedhead hair and making sure my Tom Ford suit still looked flawless. Finally, I exited the bathroom when I felt properly prepared for meeting the goddess who'd haunted my dreams.

I found the back door propped open, and Bella leaning against the brick wall of the alley, her head tipped back towards the sky. Unlike me, she didn't look like she even knew who Tom Ford was—at least not in her plain skinny jeans and simple black, form-fitting shirt. She wore a bare minimum of makeup and that long, incredible mane of hair looked as if she'd let it air dry. Every Upper East Side Princess I knew would have rather died than go out in public looking as Bella did, but I found it as refreshing as the air she was breathing.

"I finally get you alone," I said, and she turned towards me with a little smile on her face.

"You mean, I finally let you get me alone." The smirk on her face confirmed what I'd suspected for some time: Bella liked making me work hard for it, but the moment she allowed me to catch her, we'd both enjoy it. A lot.

I inclined my head, admitting she was right. "I've been waiting a long time," I admitted. "But would it scare you if I told you that it was worth it—or if I told you that I'd wait longer?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not really, no. But I still don't understand, I guess. You're Edward Cullen. Your dad owns Cullen Enterprises. You're famous. Why would you be interested in me?"

I seriously considered handing her just another patented Edward Cullen line—but I needed to win the bet and I also needed to win her. And that meant I would have to tell her the truth and nothing but the truth. "Do you remember the first night we met?"

"You mean the first night you started stalking me?"

"Yes," I said, rolling my eyes. "That night. Emmett was drunk, I was on my way, and we walked into this dive bar in Brooklyn expecting nothing, and I saw you. And nothing was the same ever again."

I reached out a hand and brushed it down the pale freckled skin of her arm. Her skin was unbelievably smoother than it looked. "That feels like one of your stupid pickup lines or one of your ridiculous, over-the-top gifts."

"Ouch. That kind of stung."

She hit me on the arm as I grabbed her other hand and pulled her flush against me. "Don't lie. You liked them. You didn't send them back."

"I sent the earrings back," she defended hotly, but I noticed that while her lips were saying one thing, her body was molding to mine and sending a very different message indeed. If I was a gloating man, I'd be doing the fucking fist pump right now. "And don't you dare pretend that your ego isn't the size of the Chrysler Building."

I shrugged and tucked her hands behind my neck, pulling her even closer. "You don't seem to mind," I said.

She was quiet for a moment as I held her, and finally her head dropped down, nestling into the crook of my neck. "For the record," I added very quietly, almost hoping she couldn't hear, "it was the truth. You've changed everything."

Bella pulled back a little, looking deeply into my eyes. "I want to believe you," she said simply, "but it's hard."

I caressed the bottom of her lip with my thumb and then slowly slid her head up until my lips met hers. "Believe me. Believe in this," I murmured as I kissed her.

She froze a little as I did, but slowly, gently, as I nibbled on her bottom lip, she sank into me, our mouths beginning to move together. I felt my control begin to dissipate as the kiss progressed, my tongue sliding over hers, and her grip around my neck tightened. As if she would have to force me to continue. On the contrary, I never wanted this to end. I wanted to feel her sweet, sweet curvy body rubbing against me every second of the day—and if most of that was without clothes, all the better.

Breathlessly, I pulled away the moment I felt my control slip the last little bit, and I found myself gorging on her mouth. "Timeout," I gasped. "You're going to kill me."

Bella nipped my bottom lip, just hard enough to draw blood, and smirked at me. "But you'd die a happy man."

"Fuck," I groaned as our lips met again, harder this time. I swung her around and pressed her against the wall, my leg pushing inbetween her thighs. I thought I might have heard her groan—or that might have been me. "You know me too well," I said, as her lips coasted down the tendon in my neck, sneaking under the open collar of my white shirt. I shamelessly cupped her incredibly curved ass in my palms and I thought I began to sweat. Edward Cullen undone by a girl—this was definitely a first. Then she shamelessly bit down on the crook of my neck and I felt everything inside—and everything outside—go rigid. She liked playing rough, I thought, and I think I might have just fallen in love.

"You'd better not be leaving a mark," I crooned, slipping my hands under her shirt and letting them slide up her bare back. I felt her teeth and tongue and lips then, and I couldn't help but laugh, marks be damned. I fucking liked this girl and her ability to keep me on my toes.

Unfortunately she pulled away a second later. "I have to go soon," she said a trifle breathlessly. "Break's over."

"Stay," I said as persuasively as I could as I tightened my grip on her. "I don't want to let you go just yet."

"Too bad," she said and I could hear real regret in her voice.

Sighing, I reluctantly released her. "Meet me later tonight," I said before I could change my mind. "Meet me. Come with me to my place. I'll send the car for you."

"The car?" She lifted an eyebrow and I almost took it back, remembering all the gifts I'd sent that hadn't done anything to get her into my arms, but fuck, this was me. The car was me. She had to accept that sooner or later.

"The car." My tone brokered no argument.

"Fine," she pouted, but she didn't quite pull it off.

"3 AM. Outside the bar. I'll be waiting."

"3 AM? Isn't that a bit late for you?"

"For Edward Cullen, never. I'll just be getting started, sweetheart. And so will you."


"The only other thing I remember after that is black leather pants and long brown hair. Everything else is hazy, well, aside from doing shots with Emmett like an idiot," I told her.

Bella shook her head. "Well, Edward, I don't know what to tell you. You were already bruised when I found you, and you never made it to meet me outside the bar. I really don't know what happened."

If I hadn't felt awful before, I definitely felt awful now. "God, Bella, I'm sorry. I'm a fucking ass." I reached up and took her hand, tracing the lines in her palm. "Please forgive me. I'll make it up to you, I swear. Have you eaten yet? Would you like to go to brunch with me?"

She was silent for a moment, and I could tell that while she might not be completely against the idea, she wasn't sold on it yet. "Look, I like you. I do. You're kind of a jackass anyways, but last night was a giant clusterfuck. I don't think it was all your fault, but I don't know if I really want to get myself involved in any more of your shit. I'm sorry."

I definitely wasn't about to lose her before I'd even had her. I'd warned her last night that I was tenacious and stubborn--and truthfully, she hadn't even seen the most persistent part of me. I knew she wanted to say yes, I just had to convince her that she wouldn't regret it.

"Listen, I know I fucked up. I do, I get that. I don't have the most perfect reputation out there, and for you to agree to see me at all was big for you. But please, don't give up on me just yet." I felt myself slipping into begging mode, and before I could totally lose what made me Edward Cullen, I pulled back. "Besides," I said, stroking her hand and up her arm, feeling all that smooth, pale skin. "We never got to finish what we started last night. I was really looking forward to it. Let me buy you breakfast to make up for all of it."

"Breakfast isn't going to make everything magically okay. And I'm not sure how interested in sleeping with you I am if you let yourself become such a shitshow before you have plans to meet up with someone." She hesitated before she continued. "But I guess the least you could do is buy me breakfast. You're taking me to Dizzy's. I want cute muffins and eggs benedict. Oh, and you're bringing your friend Emmett, because I don't really feel comfortable with you thinking that buying me one meal is going to get you laid."

"Done and done," I said smoothly, lifting my phone off the couch and dialing Emmett's number. I was halfway in again, even after monumentally fucking up. She didn't know it yet, but she was crazy about me.


Emmett and Rosalie met us at Dizzy's. I didn't think I'd ever seen Emmett's girl leave the Upper East, but clearly he was interested enough in the outcome of my visit to promise just about anything to get Rose to Brooklyn, her idea of the ghetto.

Dizzy's turned out to be some tiny little diner in Brooklyn's Park Slope neighborhood. According to the 45 minute wait that Bella and I were given, the place was known to be pretty amazing. It was a decent day out, which was definitely a good thing, considering there was no place to wait inside the restaurant. Just before I got annoyed that some mangy dive in Brooklyn didn't take reservations or provide a space to wait, one of the waitstaff popped outside with a tray in her hand. She actually brought coffee to everyone who was waiting for a table, as well as a basket of mini-muffins. They were only a couple bites each, but I appreciated the fact that they were doing something to make the wait more bearable.

"This place is sort of amazing. It may not look like much, but the food is absolutely incredible," Bella stated.

Rose seemed extremely unhappy that someone expected her to wait for a table. She tried to slip the hostess a fifty when she arrived, but the girl simply laughed at her and shook her head. "I don't care how good the food is. What kind of establishment doesn't understand the importance of reservations?" Rosalie grumbled.

"Didn't you ever watch T.V. when you were little? 'Good things happen to those who wait,'" Bella supplied. Was this girl really quoting a Heinz commercial?

Rose seemed equally flabbergasted. Of course, she'd probably never seen a bottle of Heinz ketchup in her entire life--just like she'd never stood outside a restaurant and waited for a table. I decided to ask her what had brought her here, to Brooklyn. "So, Rosalie," I asked, "what brings you here? Usually you refuse to come slumming with Emmett and I."

"Didn't Emmett tell you about our little bet?" Rose smiled. "You get Swan here, and I finally agree to marry this loser."

I gaped at my best friend. I knew he'd been consistently asking Rose to marry him every few months for the last year and a half and that she'd never said yes, but I'd had no idea that the "side bargain" that Emmett had mentioned last night was this serious.

Bella stood beside me, watching the exchange with a look of horror. "You... you agreed to marry him if Edward took me to brunch? You rich people are sort of terrifying."

They finally called my name, and we walked into the little restaurant. It actually wasn't too bad on the inside--certainly an improvement from the shithole that Bella worked in.

"No," Rosalie clarified as we sat down. "I agreed to marry him if Edward got in your pants--and since he hasn't yet, I'm still free."

Emmett hit me on the back, hard, and I grimaced at the sudden shooting pain. "Yeah, because wolfgirl over here decided to have a different kind of extracurricular fun. Which doesn't count--and I did try, for the record, to add an addendum, but Rose wasn't buying it."

"Wolfgirl? You do realize that I found him like that, remember? And I hate wolves and dogs. They're so dirty and gross. Cats are so much cleaner and cooler. If you want a wolf, you should talk to my super, Jacob. He's incredibly sketchy, and has a freakish obsession with wolves. I swear, sometimes I think I even hear him howling down in his basement apartment." Bella shivered after she described her super, and I couldn't help but be glad that I didn't have to deal with freaks like that. We paid to have normal maintenance people fix our stuff.

But as we sat, examining our menus before the waitress came over, something about what Bella had said about the howling, wolf-loving super sounded bizarrely familiar. Surely, I thought as I tried to decide between pancakes and an omelet, I would remember someone as strange as that--nevermind that the only person I knew in Brooklyn was Bella herself.

The food at Dizzy's was surprisingly delicious, and the slightly greasy food made my stomach feel so much better than it had. I finally felt human again. We enjoyed easy conversation throughout our meal, and I was surprised how well Bella fit in with Rose and Emmett. She didn't take any of Rose's shit, and she managed to turn Emmett's humor around on himself, earning points in both of their books. I knew the girl was hot, but I hadn't been prepared for how much I actually liked her as a person.

Once we were done with breakfast, I offered to walk Bella back to her apartment. We split up with Rose and Emmett, and once again fell into comfortable banter.

"I think Rose actually enjoyed that," Bella said thoughtfully as we reached the stairs that led to her door. "I can't quite believe they'd bet a marriage on me and you, though."

I smiled ruefully. "Then you don't know Rosalie and Emmett very well. They'll get married eventually, of course, regardless. But I'd still like to use that as leverage to get you to consider asking me up."

"Because their future happiness depends on it?" Bella asked.

"Actually, I'll tell you the truth. I don't give a rat's ass about their happiness--only my own. With you. Please ask me up."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but I guess," Bella began, before we were interrupted.

"Hello, Princess," I heard a deep voice say. "Hello, Bella," he acknowledged. The man walking towards us was tall, with long brown hair, and was wearing a t-shirt with a wolf on it. As he approached us, he winked at me, and my stomach lurched.

Suddenly, the gaps I'd been missing from the night before seemed to rush back into my mind.


2 AM, the night before...

I knew I was drunk. Very drunk. I didn't normally let myself become quite so intoxicated, but I realized a little too late that I was a ways past buzzed. Fucking Emmett and his celebration shots.

It was sometime around 2 AM that I found myself at Bella's apartment building. After following her around for two months, I knew she lived a few buildings down from the bar. I just wanted to see her now, and figured that going to her place would expedite things. If I were being honest, I'm not entirely certain why this seemed like a good idea fifteen minutes ago, but I do remember Emmett telling me that it was a solid plan.

Despite the fact that I could no longer remember what this masterful scheme involved, I was anxious to see Bella, and since I was here, I should just go find her. Though I knew that this was her building, I couldn't remember which apartment she lived in. I started buzzing random apartments, hoping that I'd hit hers, and she'd buzz me up.

I didn't know why people were so mean. I'd ask for Bella, and they'd call me a douchebag. No matter how true that was, I was just trying to see my girl. Assholes.

I heard a noise by the side of the building, and looked over, hoping to see someone coming up the walk who could tell me which apartment was Bella's. I saw a tall guy with dark hair taking out his trash, and decided that he clearly lived in the building, and that he could tell me where to find my girl. I jogged over to where he was to ask him.

"Hey! Do you know where Bella is?" I asked once I was standing behind him. He spun around quickly, not letting go of the trash in his hand, and hitting me in the chest with his smelly garbage. The bag broke, and I watched in horror as whatever shit he'd thrown out from last night's dinner ran down my front.

"What. The. Fuck?" I asked, trying desperately to keep my cool. It was really fucking hard when I had what looked like gumbo down the front of my Thomas Ford suit and white custom tailored Thomas Pink shirt. Deep breaths, Edward. Deep him will not get you to Bella.

"Oh my God, man, I'm so sorry! Shit! You're looking for Bella? She lives on the second floor. If you want, I can help you get cleaned up, and then show you to her place," the guy said.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, and continued to take steadying breaths. Jackass didn't mean to ruin my suit. He didn't mean to make me smell like old fish and rotten eggs. Goddamn it. But if he was willing to help me get cleaned up so I was at least presentable for Bella, playing nice might be in my best interest.

"Thanks, man. I'd appreciate it," I said, too drunk to think of a better alternative. I couldn't show up on Bella's door looking like I had puked on myself and smelling like a toothless fisherman. For some reason, I think Emmett would be getting my Cartier watch for sure if I did.

I followed the guy as he meandered to the back entrance of the building, and began walking downstairs. Apparently, he lived in the basement. I couldn't really fathom being so desperate for housing that I agreed to live in a basement apartment. I felt like I was lowering myself just by entering the place. I shuddered at the prospect of ever having to do so again.

Though I was conscious of the fact that I didn't know much about the guy helping me out, I decided that maybe the less I knew, the better. I mean, not only did he actually deal with refuse, but he also managed to be inept enough to dump it all over me and ruin my suit. This was clearly not an individual that I wanted to meet again under any circumstances.

We made it to the dungeon cavern that he called his apartment, and he pointed me towards the bathroom so I could take off my soiled clothing. He said he was going to run and grab some clothes for me to change into while I was disrobing, so I went into the bathroom and did what he asked.

I was standing in just my Armani boxerbriefs, waiting for his knock to let me know he had clothes for me to put on. I couldn't hear anything, so I poked my head out the door to see if he had just left them on the floor without giving me a heads up. I didn't see anything, so I lifted my head to call out to him, right before feeling a shooting pain echo through my skull and descending into darkness.

I don't think I was unconscious for long, but I had a splitting headache. I wasn't sure if it was from the booze, or if the guy had actually hit me over the head and made me pass out. I opened my eyes, and saw that I was now completely fucking naked, and kneeling on a floor I normally wouldn't walk on in just socks.

I tried to bring my hand up to my eyes to clear my vision, but found that I couldn't move my hand more than two inches. The fucker seemed to have tied my wrists and ankles together with some sort of rope, which prevented me from moving. I tried to worm my way out of the restraints, but found myself unable.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Do you even know who I am? I am Edward fucking Cullen, and I will fuck you over so hard you won't be able to sit down for a motherfucking year. Now let me the fuck go," I spewed, the alcohol and pain in my head fueling my anger.

"Oh, Princess, I know who you are. You're the asshole who likes to buzz every fucking apartment in a building at 2 in the morning when normal people are trying to sleep, just so he can get some ass," he said in a low, menacing voice. I was slightly afraid that he was some sort of psycho who was going to kill me and make a creepy suit out of my skin, seeing as he had me tied up and naked on his floor. He leaned down beside me, and whispered in my ear, "I really wouldn't worry about my ass, Princess. I think I can handle myself just fine."

I shivered at his words, just before I heard a slight whoosh from behind me, and a series of sharp stings hitting my back.

"Holy Fuck! What the hell are you doing?" I screamed.

"You think you're some hot shit, don't you, Princess? You can't even handle my little boy's pussy. I think you'd shit yourself if I used my regular cat."

I had no idea what this asshole was talking about. I didn't know what a boy's pussy was, though I assumed the cat he referred to was the cat-o'-nine-tails whip I'd seen in a few sex shops over the years. I may like it a bit rough, but I wasn't into anything as kinky as whips.

"You can't whip people who don't ask you to! Are you insane, you piece of shit?" I asked. I suppose the question was rhetorical, as he most certainly was insane.

"Princess, you deserve a good whipping after all the shit you put on other people. You think you're entitled to everything, but you're nothing more than a spoiled rich kid. I'll show you some respect, Princess, don't worry." It didn't escape my attention that every time he called me Princess, he brought down the whip just a bit harder on my back.

I decided that it might be better if I just shut the hell up. Clearly, I wouldn't be able to reason with him. The pain was excruciating, and my back stung like nothing else I'd ever experienced. I didn't understand how people could actually find sexual gratification from this.

I didn't know the guy's name, but I figured that it might be a good idea to get a good look at his face, so I could report him to the police and pick him out of a lineup in the future, so I tilted my face back.

All I could see was long, brown hair and leather pants. As well as his tiny little cock, which he was stroking frantically. In any other circumstances, I might have laughed at the idea of him beating off to beating me up. As it was, I was simply horrified.

I must have blacked out again at some point, because it felt like it had been a few minutes since I'd felt a blow. A cry of "Princess" and a sharp crack of the whip seemed to bring me back to the moment. I again attempted to get a look at the guy's face.

He was wearing a mask. Not just any mask, mind you… a wolf mask. This guy was whipping me, jerking off, and calling me Princess while wearing a motherfucking wolf mask? I heard him literally start to howl behind me as I felt something wet land on my back, stinging the broken skin there. I frantically tried to come up with a substance other than his jizz that it could be without success. The complete absurdity and insanity of the moment caused me to finally slip into an unconscious oblivion.


I was barely aware of my surroundings when I felt Bella tug on my hand, pulling me into her apartment.

"You remembered what happened to you last night, didn't you? And Jake was the one that gave you that stupid princess bag?" Bella asked.

I couldn't really think of words at the moment, so I simply nodded.

"Does he have your clothes? What happened?" She asked. I started nodding again, and she smacked my arm to get my attention. "Stop nodding, Edward. Use your words."

I could be honest here--I could tell Bella the whole ridiculously embarassing truth of how I, Edward Cullen, got whipped and jizzed on by some weird-ass wolfman. Or I could lie, and keep my reputation and my suave, irresistible charm intact. In the end, it wasn't even a question. I knew what I had to do.

"I really don't remember everything, but I do remember coming here around 2 AM to find you. At the time, I thought it was a good idea, but I'm sure that was the Bacardi talking. I'm not entirely clear on why I didn't think you were still at the bar. When I got here, I couldn't remember which apartment was yours, but I saw Jake when he was taking out his trash, and he said he'd show me which apartment was yours," I said, leaving out the details of pissing off her neighbors by buzzing every fucking apartment in the building. She nodded, and waved her arm, telling me silently to go on.

I took a deep breath, and kept talking. "Well, you know already that I had far too much to drink at this point, and I apparently threw up all over myself. It wasn't pretty. I then proceeded to fall into the bushes, which is how I scratched my back up. It gets really fuzzy here, but I think I took off my clothes because I had puked on them, and then passed out. I think Jake must have just brought me over to your doorstep, since I was looking for you, and probably gave me the bag with my keys, wallet, and phone in it. He probably tossed the suit since it was torn and covered in vomit."

Sometimes, I was amazed at my ability to spew bullshit at any given moment. The story was a complete lie, but it sounded like it at least could have been true.

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Don't think for one minute that I believe you." So much for my capacity to lie convincingly. She sighed and shook her head. "Fine. Whatever. Don't tell me what happened last night. But don't think for one minute that you're getting any from me until you do."

The next two weeks were the longest of my entire life.