In honor of the date and the fact that I'm heading up to the family cabin later this week and that makes me ache for this story, I wrote you some Prickward. It's EPOV, post-Tanya, and pre-Thanksgiving.
There's a reference in here that may only make sense if you read the other outtake, but it's not imperative by any means.
I missed this kid a whole lot.
As always, it's rated M for lemons and language and all-around naughtiness.
If I try, I can still remember why this used to get my dick hard. I mean, it's not like I have trouble getting it up...I just used to enjoy this more.
The heat, the tight female bodies pressed together for my benefit and the liquor in my red plastic cup; it's all there to feed the sexual tension. The beat bumps like the rhythm of fucking, and these girls know that. Their fingers slide down taut thighs and over hard nipples that show through thin fabric, teasing themselves just as much as they're trying to tease me.
I watch, detached, and I doubt anyone can tell the difference. No one expects me to be anything but aloof and cocky. Boredom slips in there unnoticed.
We're sitting at what would be the edge of the party, but it seems to fan out around me no matter where I am so I'm always at the center. That feeling is something I used to get off on. These days I just want people to leave me the fuck alone, though. They don't. So tonight I want to get blasted enough that I don't give a shit that they're there.
The guys stand around talking football and pussy while chicks shake their assets like they're sellin' it, waiting for us to choose. The desperate ones get up close, grinding on each other like strippers, but the best ones don't even dance, they just stand around all confident and shit, twitching their asses to the beat.
One of my teammates is blabbing into my left ear, and I'm nodding when I'm supposed to, I think, but I'm half focused on his words. He's talking about some chick I've totally already fucked with, and I'm pretty sure the story he's telling is bullshit but I don't call him out. Doesn't matter, anyway. I got there first.
Rubbing my eyes, I try to get rid of the fucking mental image that the word "first" conjures up. I need a break from that shit. Just for the night.
I'm just…tired. Emmett's in LA again, and the loft is fucking boring without him. I come out to these house parties just to be seen and to get led into an empty bedroom to nut on some girl's tits.
That thought doesn't do what it used to, though. I realize that I'm looking at the girls a few feet in front of me, and I'm looking at their faces…their eyes. One of them stops, giving me a weird look that morphs into a small, surprised smile. I suddenly feel like she really sees me which makes me look away, making it clear that I'm not interested by sneering while I do it.
I don't want reality, or conversation, or for someone to look at me like she just did. I force myself to focus on tits. Tits and asses.
I down my drink and one of the guys pours more JD in it. I don't even have to hold out my cup.
"Where's Emmett, man? Is he with that chick in Cali again?" Ben asks, and I hate that he says "Cali". It's just…annoying. He's fucking annoying. I just nod, though, looking further into the crowd to watch two girls making out, the guys around them yelling and raising their cups. My eyes drift. Same old shit. "He's totally pussy-whipped, huh?"
I shrug, and try not to think about why I'm annoyed by that statement.
She still drifts through my thoughts, though. Bella. My fists clench, and I wish I could beat her name out of mind.
Instead, I take the liquor in my cup in one chug, cringing at the burn.
Someone goes to refill it but I shake my head and get up, moving toward the kitchen where the kegs are. People get out of the way for me, and a girl named Leah that I once hammered away at in a closet stops me and grabs my crotch, pressing herself against me. "Hey, handsome," she says in her throaty voice. "Find me later if you want."
I nod, because I want, but when I look into her eyes they're blurry with booze, and her red lipstick is smeared a little in one corner. She stumbles backward when I try to remove her hand from the vicinity of my cock, but doesn't register the rebuff, just winking at me as I push past her.
It's the same story with Jessica, who pauses her game of strip poker to get up and drag her teeth lightly against my neck, purring like a fucking cat. She's already down to her bra and a tiny skirt. Normally if I saw that shit I would pull her out the back door right away because that girl is tight...but that just makes me think about her again, and this time it's accompanied by a heavy dose of guilt.
I cringe, turning away from Jessica without answering the question she whispered loudly in my ear. The fact that she has a filthy mouth used to turn me on, but now it just sounds fucking trashy. She goes back to her game when I ignore her, and while I'm filling my cup she loses her hand again and has to take off her skirt. She bends over in my direction while she slides it off, her thong sitting just below her tramp stamp.
Or as my teammates have dubbed it, "the cum catcher".
I walk out the back door alone, holding it together even though the whiskey is starting to make my cheeks hot and my thoughts slow. Before anyone at the bonfire can see me, I duck into the corner of the yard, choosing one of the old chairs in the corner where no one is sitting.
It feels good to just be alone, and I look up to see if I can spot any stars. My eyes close when I think of how badly I wish we were still at the lake. Before all that shit went down, I was actually really happy. Now I do all the same things that I used to, but I get none of the satisfaction. I set my beer down and pull my flask of whiskey out, taking a long pull while I look at the sky.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't everything go back to the way it used to be?
"Are you alright?" a small voice sounds out from somewhere behind me, and I sit upright. A girl walks out from the deeper shadows by the porch and sits in the chair next to me, eyeing me with a frown. I shift away from her, slightly uncomfortable, and light a cigarette.
She's cute, with big brown eyes and long brown hair and the innocent, untainted expression of a freshman. Her skin is smooth in the faint light from the bonfire.
For the second time tonight, someone is looking at me like they really see me, and it makes me avert my eyes. It occurs to me that the problem here isn't other people…it's me. Whatever shit I'm going through is showing on my face.
"Yeah, I'm good," I say, still not looking at her, my face set in a detached mask that feels familiar and somehow wrong at the same time.
"I'm Bree. My friends call me B," she says. My eyes drop to the ground when she says her nickname, and I laugh once under my breath.
The universe is fucking with me.
She's sitting sideways in her chair facing me, clasping a plastic cup just like mine. It's mostly full and she doesn't seem drunk.
"I know who you are," she says in her high-pitched voice, her tone turning accusatory. "You had sex with my roommate, Rachel, last week."
Her brashness makes me smile. I nod slowly. If she's talking about who I think she's talking about, that chick was rowdy and kind of mean.
"That sucks," I say, and qualify the statement when I see her confused expression. I clear my throat, aware that I've only spoken a few words since I got here hours ago. "I mean that sucks you have to room with her. She's…."
"Abrasive? Hateful? Demonic? " she suggests, chuckling dryly when I do.
"Yeah, something like that," I say, and observe the action at the bonfire in front of me, wishing I was in a different place watching a different cast of characters act out this scene. I don't belong here anymore. I don't belong anywhere.
This "B" chick sort of realizes that I'm not going to be much of a conversationalist, so she just talks- telling me about her hometown in the Pacific Northwest, her dog Riley, her parents and her little brother, not pausing long enough for me to comment, and not seeming to require a response either way. There's an undercurrent of loneliness underneath her words that I can relate to, and I find myself actually listening to her.
"So that's how I ended up here. I'm not really sure how I feel about it yet, though," she says, looking around the party, her voice finally trailing off. I nod to show that I understand.
She seems really…innocent. Naive, even.
I get the sensation that she's staring at me and look over slowly. She is.
"What?" I ask, downing half of my beer in one long gulp and taking a final drag off of my cigarette before flicking it into the yard. The armor that drunkenness provides might be necessary if I'm gonna sit here and talk to this chick.
"So, do you just, like…sleep with people?"
Her tone and the look on her face make me crack up. "I don't know. I guess," I answer, smiling and shaking my head until the sadness of that creeps in and sobers my expression.
"What about someone like me?"
I turn, raising my eyebrows. Her blush is deep and her hair is shiny, her skin pale and creamy. My eyes travel down to her small waist and long legs. She's not showing much skin but I can tell she's got a great body.
"B…right?" I ask, even though I know that's right. She nods, dazed. This would be so easy. The right hair, the right size, the right…name. Her breathing is shallow and she looks at my lips. But she seems nervous.
"Do you just, like, sleep with people?" I ask, using her words. She blinks a few times, coming to before shaking her head slowly and swallowing.
"No, I mean…" she takes a breath, her blush getting deeper, "…no."
I get a fucked up sense of déjà vu and drain the rest of my beer. "Look, you're really cute, and you make me laugh, but you don't want it to be like this." I say the next part cautiously, watching her reaction. "Not your first time."
She drops her eyes to the ground then, her eyes fixed at a point on the grass. "Something about me just screams virgin, doesn't it?" she asks quietly. "I thought maybe if I just put it out there… I get that it's totally a long shot… I mean…you're Edward Cullen. I just watch all these chicks act so forward, and it seems like that's what guys like." She smiles then, looking down at herself. "Maybe I should've dressed like a skank."
That makes me laugh, and I'm a little relieved when she does, too. This could have been really awkward, but for some reason it's not.
"Would you believe me if I said it's not you, it's me?" I ask.
She smiles, but her tone is dry. "That's original."
"Why do you want to lose it so bad, anyway? Especially to some random guy you just met?"
It takes her a minute to answer. "I'm just tired of being the odd one out, I guess. And you're not random. I think at one time or another you've probably been featured in the fantasies of every girl at this school."
There's no joy in my responding smile.
"Who is she?" she asks after a minute of silence. My body freezes, like I'm bracing myself for pain, but when it doesn't come I realize it's because it's already there. Exhaling heavily, I bring the flask to my lips.
"You don't know her," I mumble, staring straight ahead as I reacquaint myself with the flask over and over until it's gone. "I should go," I say, getting up and stretching. Her eyes are trained on my stomach where my shirt is riding up.
She catches me catching her and stands up, smiling sheepishly. I kind of want to ruffle her hair. Other than the fact that she seems to be able to read me too well, she seems like a nice girl.
"You're not like what I thought you would be. When I saw you with Rachel…it was like you were just some asshole jock…but you actually seem like a decent guy."
"Maybe I'm both," I answer, hoping I don't sound as fucked up about it as I feel. After hesitating for a second, I lean down and brush my lips against her cheek. "See you around," I say, leaving my cup behind on my chair and walking back into the house with my hands shoved in my pockets.
I intend to just say goodbye to the guys, but Jessica corners me on my way out the front door, fully clothed again—or as fully clothed as she gets.
This time I let her lead me back to her apartment. She's a senior and actually a really smart girl. She's also freaky, so we do it in her kitchen.
I can't fucking come, though. I don't go soft, I just know at some point that it's not going to happen because even when I close my eyes and pretend she's someone else, I can't.
She came, so she doesn't care, and lets me crash on her couch. I don't really want to share the bed with her.
I don't do that.
An hour later I'm still awake. I can't stop thinking about Bella, and my dick literally aches.
I sit up to make sure Jessica's door is closed and take a moment to think about whether or not I should do this here. My cock wins, though. Like always.
I slide my right hand down my stomach and into my boxer briefs, close but not touching myself yet. My hips buck automatically and I see her face, that look she would get when she knew she was teasing me.
I just want to be touched. Maybe that's what I miss most.
Okay, no it's not, but I crave that affection. When her hands were on my skin it wasn't just about getting off, it was her showing me how she felt through her fingers.
I shake my head, trying to get rid of that line of thought because it makes me feel like a fucking pussy.
I grab myself roughly, like I can muscle the feelings out of this. Stroking up hard, I thumb just under the head, and I force myself to think of only her body... not her eyes, or her lips or…
My mind stretches for a memory that won't hurt.
"C'mere," I whisper, reaching for her and pulling one of her legs over my shoulder to straddle my face. She is using only her mouth, teasing me at the tip slowly, and I decide to reciprocate.I palm her hips and use my thumbs to spread her further for me - not touching, just watching and breathing and connecting what she's doing to me with what I'm looking at.
Her hips roll and thrust after a minute, fighting against my hold on her while she whines around me, her mouth full. That thought makes me push up, struggling against her hands on my hips like she's struggling against mine.
"Shhhhh." She quiets as I move my thumbs closer, but I can feel her shaking, trying to stay still. I pull her closer to me and move my hands lower so I can see where I know she wants my mouth first. She's wet and swollen because we've been at this for an hour. I bet my cock tastes like her.
I get my tongue close to her clit but don't touch it, exhaling so she can feel I'm there.
I fall out of her mouth heavily when she raises her head, panting into the quiet of her room. "Edward," she says, her tone warning and desperate at the same time. I exhale again, and she shakes. "Please." The word comes out quiet and fast, but she might as well have screamed it.
The tip of my tongue touches her then and she freezes.When I close my mouth around her clit she drops her head, swearing, and then I'm holding her up by her hips, her lips sliding over my cock again without taking it in her mouth.
She does it all at once, the angle allowing me to slide into her throat further than I think I ever have before. She tenses and backs up.Her mouth is wetter after that, and her hand strokes me tighter. I touch her everywhere. Places that I've never touched her before. She's hesitant, but she lets me anyway, pushing back against my fingers when she relaxes and it starts to feel good.
I think I hear something and stop, my dick hard and hot, the pulse throbbing against my palm. Nothing happens so I continue, panting now, my head thrown back against the arm of the couch.
She comes quietly, her whole body tensing and her hand slowing to a stop while she rides it out.
Without missing a beat she gets up and still facing away from me, slides onto my dick slowly.
I focus on that movement, her tight little ass bouncing, and squeeze harder and stroke faster and wait for the feeling I've been waiting for…but it doesn't come.
I'm so fucking angry when I realize what I need that it almost brings tears to my eyes. My teeth grit together in one final effort to push myself over the edge, but when it doesn't work I let it go and let my mind do what it needs to.
She gets tired and climbs over my legs, flopping down on her back, panting and smiling. I grab her ankle and kiss it, her skin hot under my hands, her muscles tight. Sitting up, I spread her legs and kneel between them, her stomach flexing at my touch. She's still got the hint of a smile on her face, her eyes closed and her mouth open, chest rising and falling. I move over her, holding myself up with my arms and running my lips over her chest, biting and kissing until I get to her neck. Her arms reach up and run down my back while I push into her. I back up and she wraps her legs around me, as her eyes open wide at the new angle. She licks her lips and reaches down to touch herself while I keep going.
"That's so good," she whispers, and I can tell she's close again when her brow furrows and she tries to keep her eyes open.
"Bella," I moan as she gets tighter, her eyes holding mine while she comes.
I spill hard into my hand and on my stomach, breathing in short puffs. I fall back, throwing one arm over my eyes, relieved.
Jessica laughs once, and when I look up her mouth is hanging open in disbelief.
She eyes me, the silence painfully awkward.
"Who's Bella?" she asks curiously.
My face is hot from embarrassment and exertion, and I turn to stare at the ceiling and catch my breath.
I don't have an answer for that question.
Thanks so much for reading!
Happy July 5th, friends. :)