Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. This song is by Paramore and has been stuck in my head for the past three days.

Can't count on the years one hand

That we've been together

I need the other one to hold you

To make you feel, make you feel better

It's not a walk in the park to love each other

But when our fingers interlock

Can't deny, can't deny

You're worth it

'Cause after all this time, I'm still into you

Impatiently tapping the heel of her foot against the bottom edge of the wall, Renesmee crossed her slender arms over her chest, and waited for one of her family members to say something. Her grandfather, Carlisle Cullen, had announced that it was time for a family meeting, so that he could update them on their status in Tacoma. Renesmee, however, had a strong suspicion that she wouldn't end up enjoying today's discussion—particularly when there was a million other things she would rather be doing. All the same, Edward forced the youngest Cullen out of her room and ordered her to get downstairs.

"We will probably have to relocate pretty soon," Doctor Cullen reported from his seat on the black leather sofa. Esme smiled kindly toward her husband, resting a hand upon his knee. "People are beginning to notice that I have not aged."

Bella frowned regretfully. "That's a shame."

"I really love Tacoma," Renesmee said, furrowing an eyebrow. "La Push isn't too far away, so I can see Leah whenever I want."

Edward sighed, putting a sympathetic hand to his daughter's shoulder. "We know, baby girl, but we'll scout for some place that will be our new home, somewhere that you'll enjoy just as much."

The eight year-old going on eighteen shrugged at her father, then gazed at the pale face of her grandfather. "Grandpa, do you think we could move back to Forks?" After all, Forks had been her first home. It's where all of her childhood memories were stored.

"It's only been a few years, sweetheart. Not enough time has passed," Carlisle answered, adorning a mournful expression—grimacing in truth that his information would not make his only granddaughter pleased. "It is too soon to move back."

"People would notice," Esme submitted.

"Like Mike Newton," Edward muttered to Bella under his breath, giving her his typical crooked smile. She snickered in response.

"This sucks," Renesmee whined, moving away from the wall.

Rosalie draped an arm over her god-daughter's warm shoulders in a side hug. "Cheer up, Ren," the blonde vampire smiled affectionately. "Think about it this way—there will be a whole new selection of boys for you to win over."

"Yeah, right," Renesmee agreed sardonically, snorting as she lifted her aunt's arm off her. "Human boys."

"So what?" Emmett questioned.

"So what!" Renesmee repeated incredulously, throwing her arms in the air defeatedly. Edward chuckled at her dramatics. "I'm a freak show! Human boys either can't control their globs of drool or they're frightened to death of me! I can only ever fit in with the wolves." Despite their constant teasing at her half-vampire status, at least they treated her like an actual person—not that she was attracted to any of them.

"Chill out, bro," Emmett chortled, snatching Renesmee away from Rosalie. He gave her a condescending pat on the head. "It just means that you'll get to spend the rest of your life, which is forever, with us!"

"Mo-om!" Renesmee whimpered. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout, as she retreated into the comfort of her mother's immediate embrace.

Emmett arched an eyebrow in perplexity. "Was it something I said?"

"It's okay, baby," Bella laughed indulgently, combing her marble digits through her daughter's reddish-brownish tendrils. "Listen to me—how about you go to Seattle and check out the area for us?"

Renesmee grumbled in annoyance, taking a stride backward from her mother—a bit let down about the lack of consolance she was receiving. "Seattle? Is that where we're moving?"

"Maybe," Bella retorted. "We'll see in about a year."

The teenager's shoulder slumped exaggeratedly, despair tinging in her muscles. "My life is over in a year?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Renesmee Carlie," Edward teasingly scolded, wagging an index finger in her direction.

"Fine," Renesmee sighed, giving in to Bella's outrageous task. "I'll go, but I won't like it!"

"Give it a chance, baby girl," Rosalie advised, sliding her flaxen tresses behind the flat shell of her ear. "This could end up being a great day for you."

"I doubt it," Renesmee mumbled, heading toward the door.

"Wait, honey!" Esme called. "Do you want a spot of breakfast before you take off?"

"No, thank you," Renesmee replied, slightly dropping her attitude when addressing her grandmother. She rarely could muster the heart to be grumpy when it came to speaking with Esme. "I'm gonna see if I can find something to eat in Seattle," she finished, grabbing her handbag from the coat rack.

"Going to," Edward corrected her.

Rolling her eyes in agitation, Renesmee muttered a bitter, "Whatever."

"No! Nuh-uh, young lady. Come here right now," Rosalie assertively beckoned, crooking a demanding finger.

Renesmee reluctantly trudged her led-filled feet over to her aunt, her head hanging down—irritated at everyone suddenly treating her like a slave girl. "What?" she queried, her tone weighed down with annoyance.

"Smile," Rosalie commanded, tilting Renesmee's chin up to look at her properly; she smiled awkwardly. "Like you mean it." The half-breed thought of the gentle crash of the ocean waves against the shore of First Beach, and she somewhat felt better. "Atta girl. Try to make this a good experience for yourself. Find something about Seattle to love."

"Do I have to?" Renesmee sighed, finding it hard to believe that Seattle would have anything she would take interest in.

"Yes, you do."

. . .

Leave it to the extraordinary Rosalie Hale to be right about everything.

Because she was definitely right about Seattle.

For a good measure of the morning, Renesmee strolled around random avenues, just wandering blankly around on a quest for something—anything—that would spark her intrigued nature; but so far, the dreary streets of Seattle continued to remind her that she would soon be moving away from Leah, from her friends, from her life, and from everything she had grown fond of in Tacoma. Of course, at the time, she was unaware that the journey she was on would turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

After a few hours of aimless traveling, the half-breed's feet began to exhaust from all the walking she had done, and her stomach growled from hunger pains. It was time to stop and take a break. By a convenient stroke of luck, Renesmee happened upon a humble-looking cafe. In the window, she saw two people engaged in a friendly conversation. One was a female human with her vibrant, strawberry blonde locked tied back into a tight ponytail. She laughed at something her companion said, her cinnamon eyes sparkling chipperly. The other one, the man, was toned in copper muscles that bulged even while he was merely sitting down.

Upon gazing at the pair of strangers, the half-human half-vampire's feet started to move weightlessly at their own accord, onward into the cafe for a bit of breakfast. Before Renesmee somehow made herself aware of what she was doing, her hands were already pushing open the restaurant's door, causing a stringed-up bell to ring and announce her entrance. The sound sent a shock throughout her body, bring her mind back to the present.

Still, she continued to stare at the russet stranger from the corner of her eyes, now able to get a better look at him. He was blessed with a charming appearance—cropped hair the brilliant color of fresh midnight that held a soft hue of indigo in the dulls rays of the sun; his bronze skin seemed utterly smooth, almost flawless—almost as if she were to touch his arm, it would be the equivalent of encountering wet silk; his smile was an element far beyond this world, as his lips pulled back blindingly, the light of his glee like magic. Renesmee caught the quickest glimpse of his glistening pearly whites and she realized that, indeed, this man's smile was where his personality, his beauty, could be found.

Her heart smiled with, thundering as if. . . as if she were falling in love with him at first sight.

Renesmee's reaction to a simple, nameless face when she realized that he, too, was gazing back at her with a pair of eyes the magnificent color of the forest drenched in a light sprinkle of rain. A knot swelled up in her stomach—or maybe she was experiencing her first case of butterflies. She felt almost sickened, but in a good way as both sets of brown eyes made contact. Then, Renesmee mused silently that the Cullen coven should move to Seattle right this instant. No questions asked.

"Hello, Miss!" an over-eager waiter exclaimed, grinning as bright as the day.

"Oh, hello," Renesmee replied gently, managing a half-hearted simper in return.

"Are you expecting your boyfriend to join you any time soon?" the waiter inquired curiously, pulling out a menu from the stand adjacent to him.

"No," she answered nervously. "No boyfriend. Just me."

"Good," he remarked, quirking a bushy eyebrow at Renesmee, and she desperately wanted to lurch. He seated Renesmee immediately, not too far from the off-duty waitress and her tan-skinned friend. "Do you know what you'll be having or would you like some time to think it over?"

"Sweet tea and a blueberry muffin would be divine," she replied, handing back the food menu.

"Your order will be coming right up."

"Thank you."

Pulling out a romance novel from her designer handbag carefully, Renesmee opened up the book in the center. Her brown eyes scanned the pages, settling herself comfortable in the wobbly chair. She listened closely to the discussion going on between the—what she assumed—couple diagonal from her, but the young gentleman was distracted as the waitress jabbered on for miles. In fact, he seemed to be distracted by her, Renesmee Cullen. His beautiful, black-brown eyes were fixated on the younger girl's bashful figure, studying her as if she had had two heads growing from her shoulders.

"Of course fairly priced jeans are hard to come by," the waitress said with an exasperated exhale; though she had been originally speaking about a new pair of shoes. "Not that I think you care at all when you're making googly eyes with your girlfriend over there."

Ducking her head down to conceal her cherry-stained cheeks behind the the book, Renesmee couldn't help but smile.

The man's right eyebrow climbed up his forehead in faux defense, his sun-kissed expression plastered with a boyish playfulness that Renesmee's heart could have jumped upon. "Hey, I'm listening. I'm just suddenly distracted."

"Spare me the details of your new-found attraction lover boy," the blondish busgirl teased in a tone that conveyed her sweetness as she rolled her pretty, cinnamon eyes. "It's super obvious Miss Priss is out of your league."

Renesmee contorted her face in disagreement. Yes, she was decked out in a casual, albeit designer, clothing since it was the typical Cullen style—or rather, Alice's style—but that didn't make her think anyone was inferior. Although, maybe it was a bad idea to wear a cashmere sweater today, but she was not a snob. She would never presume to believe that she was superior to any stranger who might have worn a simple t-shirt.

"I've gotta get back to work anyway," the girl stated and stood up from the booth-for-two, using her hands to dust off the uniform apron dressed on her attire. "Just finish your breakfast. If you stay any longer, I'm afraid your obese butt will leave a permanent indent on the seat."

The tan man huffed out sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Eight years I've known you, and now you tell me that my ass is big?" Renesmee sniggered inaudibly to herself. "Well, you know what? Your face reminds me of an ugly fish!"

"You jackass!" his probably girlfriend exclaimed, expelling loud, heartfelt laughter as she slapped him over the head. Renesmee's stomach knotted in terror—in jealousy. "Fine! I hate you, too!"

"Join the club!" he hollered in reply as the waitress stuck out her middle finger, walking over to another table.

"Is that your age or I.Q.?"

Unable to to hold back the bubble of laughter swelling in the pit of her stomach, a faint giggle burst from her lips. The light carried over to the next table, causing the stranger to glance over in curiosity. Renesmee, with her heart nervously skipping a beat, turned her chocolate gaze downward, and finally flipped to the next page in her novel.

Geesh. What was her problem? Renesmee Cullen was a confident, young, and vibrant woman and no man had every rendered her to mush before. What made him so different?

"Here you go, Miss," the young busboy announced, lying down her breakfast on the circular table, "your blueberry muffin and sweet tea. May I get anything else or you?" he questioned, leaning over the opposite edge of the table. Inaudibly, she gulped and tugged up at the neck of her sweater in an effort to cover the twins. "It would be my pleasure to help you out," he finished suggestively.

She forced a grateful smile up at him, trying not to vomit at his blatant advances. "Thank you," Renesmee retorted casually, "but as of right now, I'm enjoying my book."

"Oh, really?" he asked indulgently, not caring a lick about proper literature. He looked more accustomed to trashy Playboy magazines. "What's it about?"

A content sigh was liberated from her stomach as she silently mused upon what she would say, and smiled to herself. "True love," Renesmee replied, shrugging her shoulders in sheepishness. A strand of her bronze hair was blinding her right eye, and she swept it back behind her ear. "It's really cheesy stuff."

"Chick-flick bullshit in a book, huh?" the waiter asked bluntly.

A tight frown crossed the corner of the half-human half-vampire's mouth; the fowl language from every day humans wasn't anything she was unused to, considering the wolves she was frequently surrounded by could hardly be called gentlemen, but she never heard a curse word dropped in polite public. "I-I-I suppose."

Finally, both sets of brown eyes mingled—this time unabashedly on purpose. Try as she might, she wanted to avert her kind irises from the ever-handsome face of a man she couldn't put a name to yet, but should have. His mouth twitched into a smile that would put Prince Charming to shame—the cutest set of dimples she had ever seen poked in his russet cheeks. Right then, Renesmee should have figured out his identity; she had looked upon that heart-warming grin countless times in Billy Black's family albums hundreds of times.

But today, she was clueless.

All of a sudden the flirtatious busboy walked away, his feet stomping down frustratedly on the tiled ground. He began mumbling under his breath, unaware of her superhuman hearing ability. "Fine, be that way. Let her be a bookreading slut. See if I care. . . Her loss." And with his face reddened in malice, the busboy slipped behind the kitchen door.

And for just a fragment of a second—okay, possibly longer than just a second—Renesmee felt an electrical warmth bolt up her spine, straight through her veins, when the stranger's eyes, brown like autumn oak, flickered across the shapes of her face. He chuckled, traces of reluctance erased from his features, at the magenta color darkening Renesmee's cheeks.

She liked that, the rich sound of this man's laughter and how it was abudant with sincerity—even if it was made at her own expense.

Sliding a bookmark betwixt the novel's thin pages and closing it, the half-breed finally queried, "So how long is this stare down supposed to go on?"

He blinked as if his mind had been elsewhere. "Why?" he asked teasingly, slightly tilting his head. "Do you have something better to do?"

"That depends on who you ask," Renesmee grumbled, rolling her eyes at she was forced to come here today—not that she minded that fact anymore. "Personally, I could do this all day. How about you?"

"I'm game, lady," Dark-and-Handsome retorted smugly. "It happens to be my day off."

"Oh, lucky me!" she exclaimed in mocked glee, her eyes directing over to the busy busgirl, who she that was his girlfriend. "I don't want to make your waitress girlfriend jealous, however."

"No, no, no, no," he retorted instantly, waving his hand to and fro, and shook his head.

The youngest Cullen tapped a restless heel, confined in a lime-green converse shoe, against the metal leg of the chair she was seated in. She giggled, muffling the small sound behind the palm of her right hand. "I find it rather quaint that you're very eager to convince me she is of no romantic intrigue to you, even though we've barely just met."

He chuckled, raising his hands to indicate her point. "You caught me," the copper stranger agreed defeatedly. "But to be fair, you started flirting with me first." A delicious smirk, both handsome and smug, spread from cheek to cheek across this man's boyish face. As shallow as it may have seemed, he was easy on the eyes. "And you haven't asked me for my name either."

Renesmee criss-crossed her arms over her chest as her legs entwined, one over the other. "Come again?" she scoffed, blatantly joking with him. "I was just striking up a friendly conversation with a dapper gentleman, who is evidently unable to keep his eyes to himself."

He winked, and Renesmee nearly swooned on cue. "Sure, sure. So, do I get to learn your name?"

Arching an eyebrow, the way all Cullens did, Renesmee stood up from her seat and tossed her romance novel into her Prada handbag. Boldly marching over to the stranger's table, she channeled a streak of lightning confidence, which she greatly needed. "Tell you what," Renesmee bargained, "guess my name."

"Er. . . Rumpelstiltskin," he quipped gently.

Giggling, she replied, "No, but you're pretty close." She shrugged nonchalantly and shifted her footsteps around to get going. "Oh, well."

"Wait, hold on a second!" he called to her quickly before she was about to leave. Renesmee looked at him, studying the desperation etched in a face she should have recognized instantly in any reality. "Um, what-what is your name?"

"If I ever see you again, then I'll know you're worthy enough to know my name."

"Why am I not worthy now?"

It took her a human second to mull over her answer. "Because given the unlikely chances of us meeting once again tomorrow or thirty years from now, you'd forget my name anyway." It was a human quality to be forgetful, but it was also a quality of life that they would never see each other again—unless she stalked him.

"Is that some sort of rule you have, lady?"


"Then, I'm the exception."

"Oh?" Renesmee inquired, inwardly grateful that he did, in fact, like her enough to at least want to see her another time. Her fisted hand knocked against the wooden surface of the table for good luck. "We shall see."

Purposely, Renesmee brushed the gentle tips of her fingers against the nameless man's russet knuckles. His skin felt familiar—warm, as if he had been bathing in pure sunlight all his life—like the wolves, rather the wolves she associated herself with. A breath hitched painfully in the back of her throat as fright consumed her tensing muscles. The rhythm of her heart quickened, roaring ferociously at Renesmee to escape this creature's sight as soon as possible. He was a shape-shifter, on that wasn't bound by the Quileute-Cullen Treaty; if he found out what she was, the nature of his blood would certainly compel him to slaughter her ruthlessly. They were natural enemies, and he didn't owe her anything.

Renesmee jerked back on her hand, scared. "Who. . . Who are you?"

He grinned, unaware of the fact they were meant to kill each other. "Nope, you have to tell me your name first."

"Goodbye." And with that, Renesmee dashed out of the door of the cafe. By just being near this man, she was putting her life at risk. He could have killed her right there on the street and probably be discreet about it, too.

"Hey! Lady, wait!" the stranger yelled, following after her.

Hesitant to turn around, the half-human half-vampire girl stopped on the sidewalk—dead in her tracks. The tone of the shape-shifter's voice had the twinge of an Alpha's command—deep and loud, the sound echoing through the farthest reaches of Renesmee's mind, possibly her memory; but she had never listened to the Alpha voice before. For some reason, this time was significantly different. This time, she wanted to listen. Perhaps she wanted a final glimpse of his beautiful face before she went about the rest of her life, never seeing him again, or maybe her soul knew—knew all along who he was, what he was and wasn't capable of, that he meant no harm.

"Wait. . ." he repeated, softening the mood of his tone as he caught up to her.

She turned around, her breath rattling nervously. "Yes?"

"You forgot your purse," he said, holding it up to her. "It looks expensive."

"Th-Th-Thank you," Renesmee stammered, hanging the purse strap off her shoulder. "That was nice of you. Very stand up and chivalrous."

"Sounds like me. Mister Wonderful," the man chuckled, his demeanor calm and friendly. He had no intention of putting her in danger. "Could I proposition you?"

"For what?" Renesmee queried, shifting the weight of her body from foot to foot.

"A date," he answered, dipping his hands into his pockets and squared off his shoulders. "If we should meet again, against all odds, I want to take you out to dinner or something. It may not be as fancy as you're used to, but I think it would be fun. You game?"

"Yes," Renesmee retorted gently, the pitter-patter of her heart picking up. She nibbled upon her lower lip, trying to fight the smile spreading across her mouth. "I would like that very much. Too bad the chances aren't in our favor."

He shrugged his mouth, nodding. "Hmm, too bad."

"Anyway. . ." Renesmee took four steps backward, careful not to bump into any strangers, as she waved a heartfelt farewell. "Thank you again, Dimples."

"See you around, Brown Eyes."

As Renesmee walked down the street, the face of the kind stranger swam through her mind. There was an element of his familiarity to his gleeful expression, something that she couldn't quite get out of her head. How could she recognize him, yet his identity remain so mysterious? Maybe he just had one of those faces that reminded everybody of somebody. No, no. That wasn't it. She had to have known him from somewhere else. Then, realization slammed down on her head. Renesmee had seen him before, a hundred times in the Black family albums, in old pictures her mother kept. Jacob Black.

She met Jacob Black.

. . .

Jacob and Renesmee had been on the road for about fifty-five minutes with his clothes, packed in a few duffle bags and boxes, rustling around noisily in the trunk; but no one was paying that much attention to the background sounds. As for Jacob, all he could think about was Nessie's death—the full details. Now he knew exactly what happened from her point of view—how Faethra thrashed Nessie almost to a pulp, yet she almost escaped with her life intact. Almost. He couldn't blink without picturing how melancholy the forest seemed as the arrow dug into Renesmee's ankle. The sheer pain running through her veins. . . It illed him, the hurt rattling in his bones to know.

"Jacob. . ." Nessie murmured, gently padding her his right knee to obtain his attention. "Earth to Jacob!"

"Hmm?" he hummed flatly in response, his blackish brown irises eyes stuck to the empty, dark road.

"You and I have been on the road for an hour and you haven't said a single word to me," the half-breed pointed out, her hushed tone conveying her wounded feelings.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Nessie," Jacob apologized softly. He exhaled harshly, furrowing his eyebrow. "I'm just thinking."

Renesmee playfully tsked him, waving her index finger to and fro. "Too much thinking can be precarious, especially for you."

"Tell me about it," Jacob yawned, shrugging casually. "I'm giving myself a huge headache."

"What are you thinking about?" Nessie inquired, massaging Jacob's knee affectionately.

"You, of course."

"Duh. What about me?"

"Everything," Jacob retorted, his forest-brown orbs glaring blankly upon the road. "Mostly what you showed me. Every time I think of it, I feel like someone dropped a stone in my stomach."

"Oh, Jacob. . .," Nessie sighed sympathetically, retracting her hand. "I-"

"I know," he interceded, shaking his head. "In all fairness, you did warn me." His gazed flickered quickly over to his imprint, forcing a tight smile for her. "It's just that I already have my own memories to live with, but I wasn't fully prepared for yours, to cope with your memories, you know? I guess I really didn't know what I was asking for."

"Pull over, Jacob," Nessie commanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Right now."


"I said pull over, Jacob."


"Just do it."


What Nessie wanted is what Nessie got.

He pulled over to the side of the road into a small bundle of bushes, the silver shade of the various trees concealing the young couple from the dulling yellow rays of the sun. Jacob tugged the gear into park, shifting his body around in the driver's seat to properly face Renesmee, but he wasn't strong enough to bring himself to meet her eyes.

"Look at me, Jacob," Renesmee ordered. She curled her index finger under her russet chin, five o'clock shadow budding its way on his skin, and tilted his face up to hers. "Tell me why you're so focused on this. What's the problem?"

"It's what I always knew—I was too late," Jacob answered and choked back on the bulbous lump swelling in his throat. "You needed me and I wasn't there in time."

"That was my fault," Nessie told him.

"Yeah, well, I don't appreciate being drugged either," Jacob grinned ruefully, scratching the back of his neck.

"See? So, it wasn't your fault. I kept you away," Nessie replied, placing an apologetically chaste kiss on her former husband's bottom lip.

"I was just minutes too late," he retorted, his demeanor softening slightly at the lingering sensation of her healing lips. "Bella and I could have helped you. We could have saved you."

"Or both of you could have died right along with me, Jacob," Renesmee added in exclamation, rolling her eyes. "I wasn't going to take that chance, Jacob. Don't think about it anymore, okay?"

"How? Jacob questioned bemusedly, frustratedly banging his foot against the shut-off gas petal. "How can I do that, Nessie? I can't get it out of my head."

"Because, Jacob, it didn't happen," the half-human half-vampire woman said, her shell-pink mouth strained in a miniature smile for him. "Not really, anyway. You and I changed the past."

"I guess," Jacob agreed, biting down on the tip of his tongue.

"We have right now, Jacob, and we will have the rest of our lives together," Nessie replied promisingly, unbuckling the harness of her seatbelt. "We have the present."

"I don't know if I'm ever gonna get over this, Nessie," the shape-shifter confessed, cupping his beautiful girl's supple, porcelain cheek. "I keep thinking you'll poof into thin air."

"I'm here—right here," Nessie replied, climbing out of the passenger seat and went to straddle Jacob's lap, locking her thighs tenaciously around his hips. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Sometimes I forget you're real," he smiled, thumbing away a loose strand of bronze hair, and tucked it behind her ear.

"Well, I am," Nessie retorted, the rich chocolate hue of her eyes adorning mischief and need. "So, why don't you enjoy me for a spell?"

"Nessie. . ." Jacob whispered.

Renesmee gently rocked the center of her body against the crotch of Jacob's denim jeans, his limp member stiffening at the intense friction. He grunted at the frustration plumped in his pants, automatically bucking his hips forward. Squirming, Nessie whimpered and further ground her hips against him, causing his wood to suffocate terribly in his too-tight jeans. His hands dug into Nessie's slender hips, forcing her to gyrate faster against his pulsating bulge. The scent of the half-breed's arousal pervaded the thin space of the car, drowning his senses in the sweet aroma of her excitement. Jacob's mouth watered, hungry to be buried in Renesmee's tight sheath.

"Will you let me distract you, Jacob?" Renesmee queried seductively, running her nimble digits through his raven locks. Her bottom lip jutted out.

"Mmhmm." Jacob chuckled huskily, a bead of sweat formulating at the center of his forehead. "Are you seriously pouting for sex, Nessie. . . in a truck?"

"Maybe," Nessie shrugged nonchalantly, knowing that if she feigned being disinterested, that would arouse Jacob all the more.

She lifted herself off his lap, bringing their dry movements to a screeching halt, and Jacob's sex all but screamed in annoyance. Her hands gripped the shoulders of both seats, trying to adjust her stance, and felt a streak of wonder wander through the veins of her body. Jacob grasped her knee with one hand while the other one slid up the back of her shirt, and bent her over the seats—her ass right in his face.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jacob asked, tenderly massaging the flawlessly rounded cheeks of Renesmee's rear, and she elicited an indulgent mewl from her roused voice.

"Mmm, Jacob," Nessie groaned, her onyx pupils dilating as she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her knees trembled with anticipation as she gazed at the wolfish grin plastered on his face.

Curling his finger around the band of his imprint's beige panties, Jacob salivated profusely as he slowly peeled the cotton fabric from her body. When she lifted up her right leg so that he could slip the panties off, Jacob placed a quick peck on her heel, then did the same with her left foot. She giggled each time, apparently a little ticklish there. He grinned sheepishly, shoving the hybrid's underwear inside of his pocket for later, and attached his tongue to Nessie's drooling, pink slit and savagely lapped at her silky sex. Jacob nearly broke down, the taste of her honey-like juices so heavenly sweet; he wanted to push her into the backseat of his truck and claim her without a second thought.

"Please, Jacob," Nessie whimpered, swirling her hips in time with Jacob's expert licks. "Jacob," she repeated in a desperate whine.

Music to his ears.

"Mine," he growled possessively, the wolf riddled in delight, and pinned Renesmee's thighs down to the heads of the front seat, her back stapled to the roof of the truck. With the pads of his wide thumbs, he spread her tight entrance and traced his thirsty tongue right around her delectable rim. She squealed in felicity, almost falling forward into the backseat. Her opening seized the pink flesh of his tongue, stroking it through her damp core. "You like that?" Jacob inquired, gently massaging the tip of Nessie's clit with his middle finger—the tiny button of fire twitching sporadically. "C'mon. Let me hear you, beautiful."

"Oh, yes!" Nessie groaned, a droplet of thrill dripping onto the vehicle's carpet. "Jacob, baby, please, I need you so much!"

Grinning to himself, and equally mesmerized by the sight of her creamy ass in his face, the shape-shifter nudged her forward. Jacob made haste in shoving off his jeans, and joined his Nessie in the backseat. But he wanted to slow down the process a smidgen. He took Nessie's shell-pink mouth captive, their hungry lips brush against each other—tender and loving; but in the midst of being enraptured in her sweet kiss, Jacob's desire to be within her body all but erupted out of him.

Nessie lied beneath Jacob, her flushed palms burning against the heated skin of his copper cheeks. His fingers coiled against the white-lily texture of her cheeks, brushing the rim of her lower eyelashes. The two smiled warmly at one another as Nessie's legs encircled around Jacob's waist, guiding their nether regions together. He plunged his member into her moist cave, drowning greedily inside her wetness, and slowly stroked himself in and out of her.

Her body contracted tenaciously around his meaty wood, Nessie shivering each time. She whimpered desperately as Jacob's long manhood repeatedly stabbed into her sweet spot, every last gland receiving much needed attention. Digging the curved whites of her nails, the partial vampire-human scratched into Jacob's defined forearms—tracing his flexed muscles. He drove into her faster, harder, emitting a grunt with each thrust—gritting his teeth. Jacob gyrated his thumb against the tip of Nessie's clit, making her all the more sensitive to his merciless thrusts.

Moments later, the young woman's tight walls quivered, milking Jacob for every last drop of his warm essence—her juices crowding the swell of his shaft. In that same second, white ropes of her cum squirted out of Jacob's plump and straight into Nessie's womb. And then, with his heart beating a mile a minute, nuzzled his face between Nessie's pillowy, alabaster breasts as the couple caught their breaths.

"Wow," they sighed in unison, then both laughed.

"I love you," Nessie murmured, combing her tired digits through Jacob's hair.

"I love you, Nessie," Jacob yawned.

I should be over all the butterflies

But I'm into you

I'm into you

And baby, even on our worst nights

I'm into you

I'm into you

Let 'em wonder how we got this far

'Cause I don't need to wonder at all

Yeah, after all this time

I'm still into you