Author's Note (April 15, 2011): Solareclipses and I decided we'd enter the "The Pineapple Awards" contest. This contest was all about writing the worst possible lemon. This is that lemon. If by the end of it you feel offended, disgusted, and generally confused, we've done our job.

Thanks to Meredith for foregoing putting her pants on in a timely manner in order to look at this for us. We love you, sugar-britches. And Mon, we hope this doesn't get you gelly. We know how you hate that.


I wake from a dream where my boss is pounding into me as I lean over his desk. My pussy is moist, dripping wetly.

I'm shy. I've never even been able to get him to look at me. My inner goddess shakes her head, dismayed. She thinks I can be more confident. I'm not so sure.

I know she's out there. I can feel her out there, prancing around the office in those jewel-studded Jimmy Choo fuck-me shoes.

Fucking tease. I hate her.

"Swan. Office. Now!" I bark brashly.

She trots in, head bowed submissively. With only a quick glance, I know the stilettos cost at least five hundred dollars, and the thought instantaneously makes my dick crystal-hard.

I stand before his desk, nervously smoothing out invisible wrinkles from my Dolce & Gabbana dress suit. My inner goddess wanted me to wear it. It's blue, my power color. I feel anything but powerful.

My boss, Edward Cullen, young CEO of Rock Hard Records, is a beautiful man with striking features that nearly bring me to my knees. Now, he looks so angry, his beautiful, forest green eyes piercing into me. He sees my soul, and it makes me want him so bad.

"Y-yessir, Mr. Cullen? W-what can I do for you?"

"Explain." He throws a manila folder onto the desk with a smack.

I know what's in it. I screwed up the accounts. I'd hoped he wouldn't notice.

"I'm s-sorry." I blush. "It won't ever happen again, sir."

"Oh, I know it won't," I respond ruthlessly. "Your days with Rock Hard are through."

"W-w-w-w-w-what!" Her stutter is so sweet, so innocent; it appeals to some baser side of me.

"Unless . . ." I trail off silkily, my voice smooth, satin-soft. This voice makes women do anything I want.

"Un-unless what? I'll do anything!"

You said it, sugar-britches.

"Strip." The word has my straining member getting even harder, straining against my jeans. It's like I'm having a dick attack.

She's staring, her bottom lip that was before perfectly pouted now practically on the floor. That's it, I think. Open a little wider, and I could fit down your pretty, little throat.

Actually, way wider.

I mean, the condoms in the drawer are extra large Trojan Magnums, and they barely fit.

"Stop gaping, Miss Swan. Strip for me, or lose your job. Decide."

I'm still gaping like a fish. I should be offended, but I'm just turned on. My inner goddess nods approvingly.

I strip. It's not attractive, and I blush as I stumble out of my La Perla stockings and bra. I wonder if he can see the pool of wetness on the inside of my panties as I remove them.

"Come here," he demands from where he stands beside his desk. He points directly in front of him.

Naked, vulnerable, and trembling, I go to him and look up into his gloriously green eyes.

"Kneel," he growls. "Open your mouth, smile, and pray I go easy on you."

I drop to my knees as he yanks down his zipper and unleashes his cock. It's at least ten inches, and so thick I'm sure my tiny hands won't fit around it.

He pushes his dick past my lips. My eyes bulge with the effort of taking him in. I taste the pearl of precum from his tip, sweet like cinnamon chocolate truffles. It makes me so wet that I'm leaking onto the carpet.

He blowjobs my throat, and I'm in ecstasy.

"Enough," he hisses, pulling my hair.

Panting, I look up for further instruction.

I'm pulsing, throbbing, absolutely aching, and I can't take it anymore. This ends now.

"Up," I demand darkly, and tug on her majestic mahogany locks. She squeaks in surprise.

That won't do at all.

I grab her panties from the floor—they're drenched and have left stains—and push the soaked satin into her mouth. She moans at the taste of her own arousal, at how she's yearning for me, and I bend her over the desk, putting her fine, bodacious ass on display.

I want to fuck it furiously.

But her stutter tells me she's too innocent.

So instead, I reach around to tweak her taut nipples roughly, and she mewls kittenishly; innocent, maybe, but my girl's kinky, too.

"You want me to fuck you?" I croon into her ear before thrusting my tongue in and out of the canal harshly in a promise of what's to cum.

I spit out my wet panties.

"Yes!" I cry. "Please!" I hardly know what I'm pleading for.

He grabs my hips with both hands, and in one swift stroke, he sheaths all ten inches of himself in me—a sword slipping into its tight scabbard. "Uuuuuuunnnnnnngggghhhhh!"

He rides me like a jockey, so hard that items go flying off the desk.

"You love when I fuck your wet pussy, don't you?" he growls.

"Yes, yes, yes," I whimper. I feel my orgasm roiling below.

"And do you like when I do this?" he asks between breathy pants. Sliding a hand around my front, he touches my aching clit.

My hips jerk forward. "Mr. Cullen!" I know I'm gushing all around his dick, all over his hand.

The levee breaks, and I feel my insides squeeze him rhythmically in a clitoramic orgasm.

He rubs furiously as he plows into me like a raging bull. "Cum. Again. NOW."

And I do.

But it's not the same. This takes over my whole body. This time it's a stream of juice that sprays down our legs. It reminds me of the super-soaker Daddy bought me when I was eight.

"FUCK!" I riotously roar, her steamy hot center contracting around my dick violently.

She doesn't deserve my nectar. I yank myself out harshly.

"Edward!" she gasp-cries, and milky ropes of my man-essence jet across her back, marking her as mine and mine alone.

"MINE!" I scream, declaring my possession. "Say it! Out loud!"

"Yours. Only yours, sweet Edward!"

I collapse against her momentarily, before pulling her around to sit with me on my chair, cradling her. "Bella, my angel."

"Does this mean I can keep my job?"

"Definitely." I swallow thickly. "Bella? I think I love you."

I gasp. I love him, too.