A/N: Don't be mad that this isn't an update for GINY, I'm working on the next chapter for that, but I had to write this. The other day I discovered the song "Yours Again," by Red and I literally could not stop listening to it. This is what it inspired.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

I remember the first time I saw you. You were laying under the hood of a busted up Chevy, your white wife-beater riding up as you continued to twist the wrench in your hand, tighter.

I could smell the heavy scent of engine oil in the air, and tried my best to avoid the various car parts that were scattered on the concrete floor. From the outside of the body shop, it had looked vacant, but just as I had turned to go back into my car I heard the manly grunts often associated with excretion.

I had thought to leave you alone until you surfaced from underneath the looming vehicle, when you had somehow sensed my presence. You slid out, your back appearing to be leaning on what looked like to be a skateboard.

Your face bore dark gray smudges, and I saw you reach for the small stained towel near your hand to wipe the grease away from your skin. I hadn't been surprised at the color, the russet commonplace for people from La Push, and I felt starkly pale in contrast.

Though I had no idea of knowing whom I had spoke to on the phone, I knew it hadn't been you. The voice had sounded friendly, laid back and from the look in your eyes, I knew you were neither. There was a hard look in them that sent currents of unexpected tingles towards my nether region that only intensified as your eyes softened as they took me in.

The summer heat had felt welcome compared to those dreary days in Forks where the harder the rain came down, the colder it seemed to get. Busting out a sundress Renee had bought me, I had felt totally justified but the way your eyes lingered on the shape of my legs, made my voice get caught in my throat.

I knew by the heat I felt in my face that I was blushing, but by the curl that had descended upon your lips, I realized you found the fact that I was shy amusing. "Um, hi. I called earlier about my truck."

When you didn't respond, I thought about leaving then. I thought about finally letting my poor old truck go, and about trying to salvage what parts were good enough to sell rather than spending more money than it was worth to fix it. But as I turned to escape your intimidating gaze, embarrassed and slightly pissed off, I heard your boots scruff the ground as you moved to stand.

I swallowed deeply as you stood looking down at me, I remember thinking it was impossible for a man to be so tall. I had flinched as you outstretched your large hand to shake mine. Surprised, I responded to your strong grip by curling my fingers around yours hesitantly. "I'm Jacob. Jacob Black. You're Bella Swan?" Your voice was husky, purely masculine and rough.

"Yes, my truck keeps making this weird sound." You furrowed your brow, before asking, "It's out front?" I nodded, and that was the last thing you said to me before pushing past. You wasted no time finding what was causing the problem, quickly crouching down easily, when it would have been nearly impossible for me to balance my weight on the backs of my thighs.

When all was said and done and you walked me back to your office, I couldn't help but to look at your strong arms and watch as a bead of sweat ran down the back of your neck. I tried to say something clever about the weather, but failed miserably. When you gave me the bill, I thought the repair would have cost more. I should have known you'd never charge me your usual rate. "This is dirt cheap, how do you make any money around here?"

You ignored my question, and as I reached into my wallet for the few bills I owed, I felt your fingers touch my hair. I looked up then, my bottom lip between my teeth. "You seeing anybody?" I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, and my breath come up short. I hadn't ever expected for you to be interested in me.

I shook my head, and felt your fingers further thread themselves into my brown locks. Your dark eyes looked into mine before you stepped forward and kissed me. Your lips were rough, and persistent, your body pressing mine further into your desk. I thought to protest when I felt your hand creep underneath the soft material of my dress, but didn't when you started to rub me feverishly, almost frantically.

Your fingers pushed past the small resistance of my underwear, before parting my lips. "This makes you wet, honey? Letting a stranger touch you like this?"

I nodded, a moan building deep in my throat. "Fuck, oh god please!" I begged you, as I felt you push me back to lay on the desk. You'd cleared everything off of it with your arm, careless as to the mess we were making. I struggled with your belt buckle at first, but you hadn't cared. You'd only tightened your grip on my hair, and ordered me to wrap my legs around you.

Your thrusts were violent, vicious. I hadn't been able to walk right for days, remembering how you'd so brutally taken me a constant reminder. Your fingers had left bruises on my thighs, and the skin of my scalp had rang with hurt but I'd smiled as I'd recalled you tugging my head up to meet your demanding kisses.

"I bet you've never been fucked like this." I shook my head in answer, as my eyes rolled back into my head in ecstasy. I'd screamed out in pleasure as you held me down, one hand wrapped around my throat. "Cum around me, baby."

I'd milked you, coming not once, but twice. I felt your triumph as you continued to thrust, almost trying to prove to me that I'd never have another like you. By the end of it, I hadn't been able to breathe. You'd pulled out, fisting your cock, the bulbous head purple and angry looking. You had nudged my legs apart so that my lips were splayed open, my clit clearly visible. Your eyes never left that soft tissue, the pink and swollen evidence of my arousal driving you further to the edge. You came on my pussy in hot spurts, cursing my name, "Bella!"

I had watched in utter fascination, not once thinking how lucky we'd both been that I was on the pill. You hadn't thought to ask until our second meeting, our first brush in the supermarket. I'd been surveying the various fruits, deciding ultimately to put the orange melon and a stem of banana's into my cart. I felt my arm as I pulled back to push my cart hit someone, and when I'd turned to say sorry, it'd been you only it hadn't been an accident that you were standing behind me.

I watched as you struggled with words, something I thought I would never see. "Jacob? What are you doing here in Forks?"

"I wanted to see you again." You ran your fingers through your short inky hair, before sighing. "I was thinking about what happened in my office and I wanted to see if you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Your eyes lingered on my neck a second too long, and you moved to brush the hair off my neck. The marks you'd left had already started to fade, but I saw the look of horror cross your face. "Jake, it's okay. I don't regret anything that happened."

"You don't?" I shook my head, before shyly admitting from underneath my lashes that I'd liked it. At that, you sent a cocky smirk my way. "I can't stop thinking about how it felt to be inside you, Bella." I closed my eyes, letting your words wash over me. You'd tugged at my lip with your thumb, and reached to hold my jaw in your hand.

"Me either." You had took me in your car after you'd driven miles away from the market, parking in a secluded underbrush of the forest. This time when you held me down, the thought that you could do anything you wanted to me brushed my mind. Even if I didn't consent, there would be no one else to stop you. I think you realized it too and drove into me harder, the hold you had on my left thigh so tight it bordered on painful.

"Please, Jake!" You'd pinched my clit between your fingers, before rubbing away the sting. I came and this time, you'd guided your cock into my mouth to finish you off. I hadn't protested though I'd never done this to anyone else. You kissed me afterward, not at all disgusted by the taste of us, instead you'd commented on how you just couldn't control yourself to stay away from me.

I remember smiling in the backseat, watching as you soothed the pain in my thigh with soft strokes of your palm, kissing my knee. You'd hooked my thighs around your shoulders then and returned the favor.

You drove me home, and even carried my groceries into the kitchen. I felt no fear letting you into my house, but instead thought that you looked like you belonged. I wasn't bothered when you started putting my food away, and trusted you wholeheartedly when I told you I needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded, and minutes later as I sat on the ledge of the bathtub, I heard you shuffle your way in.

You had pulled my shirt over my head, and caressed the red marks that came into view after I unhooked the clasps of my bra. I stood, stepping into the hot bath water, the soapy bubbles clinging to my skin. "Would you say yes if I asked you out on a date?"

I surprised you by laughing, and though you felt uneasy by my reaction, you let me finish before you presumed what my laughter meant. "You ask me that now?"

"I had to see if you were worth it." Your joke sent me reeling with giggles, and soon you couldn't even resist cracking a smile. As I laughed, my chest shook, and my breasts jiggled. A nipple caught your attention, and you pulled it before leaning down to take it into your mouth.

I had said yes and no more than a week later, you stood on my porch holding a bouquet of red roses. I'd never thought you were a flowers kind of guy and when I asked, you shrugged, "I couldn't think of anything else." We'd left shortly after I found an empty vase, and though I warned you to keep this date casual, I wasn't expecting the restaurant to be so extravagant.

You had had to drive for more than an hour to Port Angeles and while in the car I craved your touch the entire time. I tried to fool around with you, even reaching to fondle your cock through your jeans as you maneuvered through traffic with your hands on the steering wheel. You'd thrust upward shallowly into my grip, breathing heavily. "You better be ready to finish what you started." I'd gulped but inside you'd turned me into a puddle of goo.

I took you into my mouth, and you groaned aloud as you drove. "You like sucking my cock, baby?" I moaned around you then, and felt my panties dampen as I listened to you talk dirty to me. "You just wait until I get you home later, I'm going to fuck you till you're begging me to stop." I reached with my hand to touch myself, and heard you curse above me, "Fuck. Fuck that pussy, baby."

I don't know how you managed not to crash the car, but we came just in time for you to be able to concentrate on finding the exact street of the restaurant. I'd wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and stripped off my panties, shoving them into your glove compartment. "For later use," I told you, smiling cheekily. You laughed then, a full bellied laugh.

The valet came around then, and I hurriedly shoved down the black material of my dress, and tried to fluff my hair into submission from where you clutched at it as I went down on you. You couldn't help but smile as I tried in vain to appear innocent, "Stop," I'd said, and shoved your arm playfully. The fire in your eyes should have told to run, that you'd get me back for my indiscretion but I found the idea of you manhandling me arousing. I wasn't afraid, in fact, I craved the violence I suspected was hidden beneath the surface. The same violence you committed every time you fucked me. I'd been exactly what you'd been looking for, only I hadn't estimated just how badly.

You'd ordered for us both when the waiter came around, and though I'd been contemplating having the chicken parmesan, you had ordered me the steak instead. I thought of telling you to call the waiter back, but I had been so stunned you'd do such a thing that I couldn't form words. Maybe you'd been here before, and knew just what to order to impress me. I didn't let myself linger on about it for too long. Instead I tried to get to know you better.

"So how long have you been a mechanic?"

You sipped at the wine placed at your side, grimacing at the taste. I found out much later you were more of a whiskey kind of guy, and though you'd try to hide it, soon enough you'd be standing outside my house begging for another chance, so drunk you couldn't stand. I'd have to come out and help you up the steps, and push you to lay on my bed. I'd urged you to sleep it off, and slapped away your hand when you reached for me, to which you said, "Baby, please. I didn't mean it."

I hadn't been strong enough to resist your embrace as you held me against your chest, my tears soaking through the grey long sleeve you'd been wearing. You'd kiss me, and I tasted the alcohol, and though I wished you hadn't done this to yourself, I had rode you till the early morning of dawn crept around the edges of my windows, forgetting about the way you'd smacked me the night before.

I'd just been coming home from work, setting my bag down on the dining room table, when I walked around the bend of hallway to find you sitting on my couch. I wasn't surprised to see you, I'd given you a key a month earlier, but I could see by the tightness in your jaw you were angry.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I'd walked around the coffee table and sat myself on your lap. I had expected to feel your arms come around me, and when they didn't, and you continued to stare blankly at the television that wasn't on, I'd tried to kiss you. You'd stood then, shoving me away. "Jacob, what the fuck?"

I heard the way you started to breathe, rough inhales and exhales escaping your nose and throat. You held one hand to your face, rubbing it furiously before spitting out the words, "Mike Newton, huh?"

I looked up at you in utter confusion, "What the hell are you talking about? What about him?" I saw you make a fist with your right hand, before relaxing your fingers at your side.

"You been fucking him?" It was my turn to be pissed. I jumped up when I probably shouldn't have. I stared into your black eyes, not entirely believing what I was hearing. I never thought you'd think I'd be capable of betraying you.

"How could you ask me something like that? No, I'd never." You sent me a sardonic grin. You nodded as if you believed me but I could see you were just mocking me. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really. I'd never do that to you, Jake." I reached up to touch your face, only to have you crush my fingers in your hand. Tears had came into my eyes, but before I could ask you to let go, you'd started to yell.

"Imagine my surprise when I go to pick you up, only to find him laying one on you." I'd fucked up by not telling you that my boss had been harassing me for months, even before we got together, and now I was beyond afraid that it was going to tear us apart.

"Jake, it's not what you think. I didn't want it," I pleaded, trying to touch you again, only to feel your hand come down hard on the left side of my face. The hot sear of pain that followed the impact of your blow was numbing. I'd even thought at first that I had deserved it. That you had the right to be mad with me, that I'd been the one to dig myself my own grave. I had to lie in it for our love.

After you had realized what you'd done, you had tried to reverse the damage by apologizing. It wasn't until I threatened you with calling my father to come and arrest you that you finally listened to me and left. It, however, didn't stop you from finding out just where Mike lived, and beating him until his eyes were sealed shut and he wheezed when he tried to breathe.

I wanted to be disgusted with you, with your rage, but found it made me love you all the more. I'd kissed your bloody knuckles after we had sex in my bed, even running up to find dressings to wrap around your open skin. "I love you, Bella," you'd said as I took care of you, and I found myself repeating my own terms of endearment back to you.

Mike ended up firing me and when I started to panic about how I'd pay my rent, you'd convinced me to move in with you. That you'd pay all the bills, and if I wanted to work so badly, I could be the one taking calls for you at your Auto Repair Shop. I'd asked about Embry, and you replied, "Fuck him."

I'd turned down your offer, not willing to be the reason someone else lost their job, and settled for working on my manuscript. You continued to encourage me day by day that somehow I'd get it published, that everything I wrote was worth praise. I still don't know whether or not you'd only been pulling my leg, but after you'd read a short piece I'd written about anal sex, you'd shoved me down and fingered my backside as you fucked me from behind, taunting me, "Just wait till I fuck your ass, Bella."

I'd expected to find you in the garage when I stepped out of the house, only to find you perched on the porch, reading my private journal. I knew instantly just what you'd been reading, and turned to run back inside your house, embarrassed, when your hand came to wrap around my ankle. "You little slut."

You made me read aloud everything I'd written while you drove into me, hard and without worry if you'd hurt me. It was all too much, I came countless times, my words blurring in my mouth as pleasure overcame all sense and reason. You encouraged my groans as you spanked me for being so naughty, afterwards shoving your fingers into my mouth as you guided my hand down to rub myself.

I screamed louder than I ever had, tears coming to my eyes. If anyone had been watching, they would have thought you'd been forcing yourself on me, and though that should have bothered me, instead all it did was make me clench around you tighter.

Later that week, I had opened my journal inspired by the way you'd licked my pussy while I'd been on the phone with my mother, only to find the messy scrawl of your handwriting. You'd written, "I own you. One day I'll wrap my belt around your throat."

I should have seen it then, that you'd be the end of me. That you were a dangerous man, and though on some level I saw the signs, I hadn't been prepared at all for what you'd do to me.

I could see that you'd knew I'd read your note when I came into the bedroom. I turned to place my journal on the high shelf of the closest, only to feel your hands come around to rest on my stomach. "Are you scared, Bella?"

I should have lied then. Maybe it would have been what saved me. "No." My voice had been even, and you believed me. You wrapped your hand around my throat like you'd always had, and I welcomed the tight grip with ease.

"You gonna be a good girl?" I whimpered then, feeling my legs shake. The affect your words had on me, I'll never forget. I nodded, and felt you push your erection into my backside. I went on my knees then, and when you pulled your zipper down and released your cock from the confines of your briefs, I took you into my mouth, needing to taste the velvet skin that swelled with need.

I looked up at you, my eyes wide as I deep throated you, remembering to breathe through my nose in order not to gag. I was anxious for the moment you would pull my hair, and thrust into me, and when it came I was almost relieved. I needed to be debased and used. You saw to it that I'd never be able to come if I wasn't. I'm still not sure if you conditioned me to like all that you did, or if I'd already been psychologically fucked up in the first place.

I still remember the way the leather of the belt felt around my throat as you positioned me on the floor, like an animal instead of a human. You lead me around the room on my hands and knees, and if I didn't obey, you'd pull the belt tighter. The humiliation I experienced made my center drip like a beehive, honey running from my lips, dripping on the carpet. "You gonna clean that up?"

I tongued the carpet, tasting my own musk, and the sight released you from all resistant. You shoved into me all while pulling the belt tighter, and I found I couldn't breathe. I tried with my hands to crawl the belt away, to somehow loosen it, when you realized what you were doing. The marks that graced my neck were a deep purple, and in the following weeks I found I couldn't even stand the sight of your face.

I couldn't speak, and so the police waited patiently until I could. But that didn't stop you from fighting your way into the emergency room to see if I was alright. I wanted to plead your innocence, but found shame in revealing that I had consented. In the end, my father issued a restraining order on you on my behalf, seeing as the charges he tried to pin against you fell apart when I told him I loved you and couldn't take it if you were behind bars.

I'd moved back in with my father, and it was on one of those nights that he was working late, that you snuck into the house. The sight of you standing in my doorway should have pushed me to my feet, should have signaled to me to find means of escape or a weapon, but instead I felt immense joy. You flashed the lock pick as you walked into my childhood bedroom, taking in the bare walls and the rocking chair in the corner. I didn't care that you probably left muddy footprints on the floor, but basked in the sound of your heavy weight coming closer. "J-Jake?"

My voice was still mending, and you held a finger to your lips, telling me to be quiet. I said no more, and when you came to sit at the foot of my bed, sneaking your hand underneath the covers, stroking the skin of my calve, you whispered, "I missed you, baby."

I started crying then. I didn't want to be away from you any longer. You shushed me, leaning over to kiss my trembling lips. I didn't have the power to push you away. It was only four days later that they found my body abandoned in the woods. You'd taken it a step too far once more, this time strangling me to death as you fucked me. I'm not sure if it had been your intention all along, or if you'd only gotten carried away. Whatever the case, I was glad to die looking into your eyes.

A/N: Review?