-EdwardEdward moaned softly and rolled his shoulders, peering into the face of an unknown girl lying

beside him.
Jennifer, Jessica, Jessa? Fuck if he could remember. All he could remember was scoring a bag of
weed from Mike, his manager, after he went out of the attorney's office.
A damn hot, fuckable attorney.
He'd went to the studio, as scheduled, and played a couple of tunes with the boys. Officially, they
were recording for the moment but the fact was they were on hiatus as his case and trial obligated
them to stay in one state.
Before he could yawn, someone was pulling the girl out of his bed, telling her to get yourself out
and he raised his head to find Rosalie towering over him, arms crossed over her breasts.
Mornin', he murmured, teetering on the brink of falling back to sleep. How's my best girl?
Get your pants on, rocker boy, Rosalie said. You and me are going to have a wee, little talk.
Don't suppose you'd make me coffee first?
Rosalie heaved a melodramatic sigh and plopped herself on the edge of his bed. This won't take
long.
Fine, he grumbled, rolling out of bed, completely naked. He walked to a nearby dresser, picked
up a half-smoked joint and plopped back into the bed, not bothering to pull a sheet over his body.
But whatever it is better worth the morning fuck you just shoo'ed out of my door.
Rosalie's sat straighter, regarding him with an entirely too-thoughtful expression as she slowly
nodded. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to like whatever it was that she was going to say, and
he took his time lighting a joint before glancing up at her.
I want you to agree to Bella's terms, Rosalie said as soon as she had his attention and Edward
groaned. He'd had a feeling that it would be something like that.
Forget it, he grumbled. You realize she wants to shut down the Cullen Express, right? You'd
hate that, you know.
Rosalie snorted indelicately, leaning in to steal the joint and deliberately taking her time as she
puffed it.
I get along without it, she said.
He shook his head and dropped onto his back once more. So you say, he grumbled.
Besides, it'd do you some good to abstain for awhile.
Don't you dare say that word, Rosie! he gasped in mock horror. My balls will shrivel up and fall
off if I didn't get any, and then where would I be?

Don't be an idiot, she interrupted, letting him take the joint from her so that he could take the last
drag. It's just for a little while, and Bella's got a point . . . if you made an effort, the judge might
take it into consideration . . . at the very least, it wouldn't look bad on you, don't you think?
Like I give a fuzzy rat's ass, he shot back, tossing the sheet aside and rolling out of the bed. No
sex? No fucking way.
All right, if that's how you feel, she said, sounding more triumphant than one who've just been
denied. How about a deal?
He stopped mid stride to peer over his shoulder at her, narrowing his eyes and feeling distinctly
discomfited by the almost smug expression on her face.
A deal, he repeated. What kind of deal?
Pushing herself onto her hands and knees, Rosalie laughed softly, crawling toward the end of the
bed as the Cheshire-cat-like smile widened enough to make Edward wonder briefly whether or not
he was in serious trouble.
How 'bout I show you Bella's titties?, she nearly purred.
Oh? he parried, struggling to keep his tone neutral. Bella's titties, the same titties he'd been
fantasizing about when he fucked Jessa/Jennifer/Jessica that night.
Holyfuckingshit.
Rosalie nodded, letting her legs slip out from under her as she kicked up her heels, crossing her
ankles and affording him a damn fine view of `her girls' beneath the filmy fabric of her blouse.
Mhmm, she drawled, pulling her cell phone out of her purse and pushing buttons as that smile
widened. Last night, after work, I went by a friend's place and she told me about this fugly,
atrocious man who came by her office and called her mistress. She was appalled appalled, I tell
you at his complete disregard for decency and ranted at me for a near full hour. You see, it was me
who begged her to take on this horrendous asshole's case so it was only fitting that I suffer the brunt
of her displeasure. Cut the long story short, we drank a little too much wine, I guess . . . You know,
that girl really can't hold her liquor to save her soul . . .
Edward grunted. Like you're much better.
Better than she is, she commented. Anyway, I've gotta tell you, that woman has some damn fine
breasts. Nicest I've ever seen . . .
That got Edward's attention quickly enough, and he barely controlled the impulse to whip around to
face Rosalie.
Oh? he asked instead, slowly pivoting on his heel, his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly.
Mmm, Rosalie intoned, slowly tapping one of the buttons on her phone with her thumb.
Incredibly high nippleslarge nipples, considering . . . a beautiful shade of rosy pink . . . just
gorgeous . . .
Sure they ain't fakes? Edward asked, mostly to be obnoxious.

Rosalie laughed. Fakes? God, no! Nothing fake at all about Bella Swan . . .
He snorted. And why are you telling me all this?
The look she shot him was downright scary, no doubt about it. Blue eyes alight with a mischievous
glow, she looked like the cat that ate the canary and the blue jay, too . . .
Well, see, I got these pictures . . .
. . . Pictures?
Yep . . .
Did you tongue her?
She giggled, rolling onto her back and clasping her phone to her chest. No, I didn't . . . I might
have if I'd had a couple more glasses of wine, though . . .
He quirked an eyebrow at her since he knew damn well that Rosalie preferred cocks to kitties.
Actually, what happened was we got a little tipsy at dinner. I took her as she'd been so gracious as
to consider taking your case and when we got back to her apartment, she wanted some more wine,
and she was trying to kick off her shoes as she was carrying it into the living room, and she ended
up spilling it all over her blouse. So she took it off, and I told her that she had fabulous titties, so she
being drunk, of coursefigured she'd show me, and since I'd just gotten this cell she held up
the phone for his inspection, I took a few pictures. It's got a fantastic camera on it, did I tell
you?
So what's so special about her titties? Edward deadpanned, reaching for the phone and snorting
when Rosalie smashed it against her chest before he could get his hands on it.
She threw a pillow at him. No, honey; my new phone!
You're gonna show me those pictures, right, Rosiekins? he asked pointedly as he crawled back
onto the bed.
I could, she said, her voice shifting from liquid velvet to spun silk in a single heartbeat, if . . .
Fuck, here it comes, he grumbled, knowing damn well what she was about to say but stubbornly
refusing to acknowledge it.
She shook her head and scooted off the bed. All right, if you say so . . . she said, sashaying
toward the doorway. See you, Edward. . . Hope you like prison-stripes because my girl is not
backing off from this one. . .
Groaning as he made a face of abject disgust as he sought to ignore the bitter bite of curiosity that
he couldn't repress, Edward uttered a frustrated growl and hurried out of the room in Rosalie's
wake. He was intrigued, no doubt about it. He'd known Rosalie forever and he knew well enough
that she certainly wouldn't be bragging on Bella unless there was something legitimate to brag about
...

`You've seen one rack, you've seen them all, right?'

Edward shook his head, refusing to quantify that with an answer as he loped down the stairs two at
a time to cut Rosalie off before she could reach the front door. What was it about Bella? he
wondered. He hadn't been able to get her out of his mind for more than a few minutes at a time
since he'd walked out of her office. She'd gone to some pretty outrageous lengths to hide her figure
and her face, downplaying her looks with those ungodly large framed glasses and the boxy business
suit. That's what it was, wasn't it? He simply wanted to know for sure that she really was as hot as
he figured she'd be. That had to be it. After all, why else would he even care?
He frowned. `Right . . .'
He caught up to Rosalie in the living room. She was heading for the door, and while he was pretty
sure that she was just teasing him, he wasn't about to let her walk out, either, damn it; not without
showing him those pictures .
Where you runnin' off to, Rosiekins? he asked, his signature lazy drawl back in place.
She gave him a very pointed once-over then rolled her eyes. Wow, you didn't even bother with
pants. That interested, huh?
Satisfied that he'd stopped her for the time being, Edward let go of her arm and fairly swaggered
into the huge kitchen. Well, you seemed so set on showing me those pictures that I figured, what
the hell? Why not play along?
She followed him into the kitchen and accepted the mug of coffee that he offered. So it's for my
benefit, is it? Don't do me any favors, big boy. After all, I've seen Bella naked . . .
Tits are tits, he countered mildly, peering over the rim of his mug at her.
Rosalie shrugged a little too nonchalantly. And dicks are dicks, she retorted.
That's not what you say when we're fucking, he pointed out.
She laugheda low chuckle that felt like a caress rippling over bare skin. That's entirely my
point . . . tits may be tits and dicks may be dicks, but that doesn't mean a thing if one has no idea
how to use them.
Casting her a sidelong glance, he leaned against the counter, one arm wrapped over his stomach and
rested his elbow on his forearm, the mug hovering mere breaths away from his lips.
Spoken like a true deviant, he relented.
She hefted her mug in silent salute. Absolutely.
Edward heaved a sigh and shook his head, turning abruptly to rinse the mug before depositing it in
the sink.
I dunno, Rosie, he said dubiously. Seems like a hella high price to pay just to see a few measly
pictures.
She's got a tattoo, did you know?

Tossing aside the towel he'd used to dry his hands on, Edward shrugged. So do I. A few of them.
Big fucking deal.
Rosalie nudged him aside with her hip and rinsed her mug, too. Yeah, you're right . . . but I have a
picture of it, too . . .
Rolling his eyes, he strolled out of the kitchen and through the house to retrieve the newspaper that
Mike had brought in for him earlier. So given that you know damn well that tattoos aren't really a
big deal, what's so special about Bella's?
You didn't ask where hers was, she prodded as she rummaged through her purse.
So where's hers? he asked grudgingly.
Rosalie paused long enough to wink at him. Near her snatch.
His chin snapped up. Oh?
Yep . . . very cute, too. It's a little heart . . .
And you have a picture of it?
She laughed again. I did tell you she was bombed, right?
He snorted, tossing the paper onto the coffee table before he flopped onto the sofa. Does she know
you're pimping her pictures?
I mentioned it, she said, fluttering her fingers dismissively.
So she doesn't, he concluded.
Rosalie rolled her eyes. No, she does. She said that she'd take your case if you agreed to her terms,
and I told her that the pictures would be fantastic leverage.
Narrowing his eyes, he snorted. You don't really expect me to believe she said you could show
them to me.
She shrugged offhandedly. Well, she was drunk when I mentioned it, but she didn't say `no'.
What did she say?
I believe her exact words were, `hmmkay.....', Rosalie grinned, then she snored.
Edward grinned back. Allright, that'll do.
Rosalie nodded slowly. So how about it? You want to see her tattoo?
He shook his head, telling himself that he didn't care, not at all. He was just curious; that was it. If
it's on her snatch, how did you see it?
Oh, she waxes.

You wax, he pointed out.

I don't wax quite like she waxes, she contradicted, pointing an emery board at him before she
zipped her purse closed and stepping around the sofa. Knocking his feet off the cushions, she sank
down beside him and shot him a lazy grin. I like my little bush, thanks.
Like she . . .? Edward sat up straight, eyes narrowing as he searched Rosalie's face. No-o-oo . . . he breathed almost reverently.
She nodded, carefully examining her nails and pausing now and again to file a nonexistent rough
spot. Oh, yes, she remarked lightly. She says that it's . . . cleaner . . . Pausing there, she tapped
the emery board against her chin thoughtfully. Yes, I think that's the word she used: cleaner.
No shit, he half-moaned.
She has a very pretty little pussy. If I were into women, I'd totally be all up in her business,
Rosalie went on casually, as though she was talking about the weather, but you're not interested in
the pictures, are you?
Does it look like I'm interested? he snapped, gesturing at his crotchand his painfully throbbing
boner.
Rosalie's smile widened dangerously. If you agree to her terms, I'll send you some of the pictures.
How's that?
He grimaced. Some of them?
She nodded slowly. How about a teaser?
He grunted.
Twisting her body and pushing herself onto her knees to reach her purse on the table behind the
sofa, she dug out her cell and took her time scrolling through the images stored on the device.
Here, she said, flipping her phone so that he could see the display. He reached for it, but she
pulled it back before he could grab it.
Edward growled in protest but narrowed his eyes to get a better look: a picture of a pouting Bella,
her hair all mussed and tangled, and while her shoulders were completely bare, the image was cut
off just below the rise of her breasts . . . She was leaning forward, it seemed, and the shadows that
touched her face lent her an air of mystery. Brown eyes so deep and soulful, as though she was
begging for something, and while her expression brought to mind a petulant child, there was
nothing childish about the fullness of her lips, pursed slightly, her cheeks flushed, her skin glowing
in the warmth of the ambient lighting of her living room . . . The sternness of her at-work persona
seemed to have all but disappeared to the point that he had to wonder if the woman really was the
same one he'd met in the stuffy attorney's office.
Mm, she's a hottie, isn't she? Rosalie piped up.
Nodding absently, he couldn't take his eyes off the picture. Talk about letting your hair down, he
mumbled, shaking his head in abject disbelief.

So you want more pictures, Edward?

He nodded again.
And you'll agree to her terms?
He snorted but didn't answer. Rosalie sighed. Edward, she said, her voice taking on a more
serious tone, promise me that you'll at least consider it, please. For your own sake . . . I was there,
remember, and you know as well as I do that you weren't even
I was, he cut in coldly, narrowing his gaze for just a moment before he relented with a shake of
his head. Just drop it.
She sighed again. Please.
Dragging his eyes off the picture, he made a face at Rosalie. She wants to cut off my balls, he
grouched. True, he didn't like the prospect of ending up in jail, and he'd even considered giving in
just because of that, but he wasn't about to admit as much to Rosalie, damn it, not when she was
offering to bribe him into submission . . .
Abstaining for a couple months is hardly cutting off your balls, she pointed out.
Close enough, he grumbled.
She heaved a sigh and shook her head. Okay, she allowed slowly. That would suck, I mean really
suck. No sex for a couple of months would make your life a living, breathing hell.
He nodded emphatically, taking advantage of the moment to crawl over and lay his head in her lap,
doing his best to give her his version of `The Look'. She rolled her eyes and tugged on his hair but
didn't shove him away. You'd hate it, too, you know, he added for good measure.
Oh? You think you're the only person I can get a good lay from? she challenged.
He wrinkled his nose and leaned up to nip her breast. I meant you'd hate it, too, if you were me.
She considered that, idly stroking his hair, and he couldn't help it as his eyes drifted closed. He'd
always been a sucker for that, he supposed . . .
Point taken, she allowed. But that doesn't make the problem go away.
He considered that, wrinkling his nose in an effort to show Rosalie exactly what he thought of
Isabella Marie Swan's `terms'.
Lemme see that picture again. She held up her phone for his benefit again, and he sighed.
Damned if he wasn't a sucker for a woman with those pouty lips . . . and soulful eyes . . . So you'll
help me?
Yes.
And you'll send me the pictures?

She nodded.
Heaving a sigh, Edward could feel himself relenting, but he stubbornly held his ground. Including
the picture of her tattoo?
Just say the word, and I'll email them straight to your computer.
I don't know, Rosie . . I'm not sure I'm ready to be a monk, he complained.
No one's asking you to be one, idiot. She shoved him away but laughed. She's a good attorney,
Edwarda damn good one . . . better than you deserve, anyway. If anyone can help you get out of
this mess, she can.
I gotta be nuts for even thinking about it, he informed her.
So do we have a deal?
Would you suck my dick if I said yes?
She sighed and rolled her eyes but reached out, letting the tips of her nails drag gently over the head
of his cock, and he sucked in a sharp breath as the first droplet of semen squeezed out of him.
Ah, God, he breathed as she smeared the liquid over him. Damn . . . damn . . .
Opening his eyes in time to see Rosalie suck her fingers into her mouth, he groaned quietly when
she pulled them out with an obscene popping sound, her fingers gleaming with her saliva as she
broke into a smile and wrapped her hand around his shaft, idly pumping him hard enough to draw a
growl from him but not nearly hard enough to make him come.
Fucking damn it, he rasped out.
She chuckled huskily. Do . . . we . . . have . . . a . . . deal . . .? she asked, emphasizing each
syllable with a definitive squeeze.
He gritted his teeth together for a moment, lifting his pelvis to aide her hand movements.
Shit, he hissed quietly.
Rosalie let go of him and pushed him off her lap, rising to her feet to pace the length of the floor.
You answer me, and I'll see what I can do for you, she countered brazenly.
Heaving a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face before answering. All right, he agreed
grudgingly. I'll do it, starting tomorrow and only as long as suck me.
Why tomorrow? she challenged, ignoring the brazen request for a blow job.
He grinned wolfishly at herat least, as wolfishly as he could manage since his groin was
protesting the loss of her attentions. I got a date with twins tonightidentical twins.
Rosalie groaned then laughed. No, I don't suppose you'd want to miss that . . .
Absolutely not, he agreed. Now send me those pictures, will you?

Already on it, she informed him as she lifted her cell phone and pushed a few buttons.
Edward smiled and visions of a very naked Bella danced in his mind.