“God, I missed this,” she sighed. He dragged his fingers down to her underwear and started pulling the material over her hips.
“How do I know you?” he whispered, palming her ass cheek. “How do I know this?”
“Because ... some things are forever,” she whispered back.
He grabbed her hips and rolled her over. Finished yanking her panties off her body, then he laid down on top of her. She was so small and smooth and curvy and perfect. Absolute fucking perfection. Like a symphony, and his body was humming along.
“You're so beautiful,” he sighed into her cleavage while he walked his fingertips up her outstretched arms.
“Not half as much as you. Turn the lights on,” she urged.
“What?” he asked, a little surprised. He lifted his head to see if she was teasing.
“Please,” she moaned, rubbing her body against him. “I want to see you. I want us to see each other. It's been so long.”
He practically fell off the mattress in his rush to reach the lamp. When he'd gotten it turned on, he whirled back to the bed. Delaney had her back to him and had moved so she was sitting on her knees, her legs spread wide. While he watched, she took her hair out of its ponytail. All those gorgeous tresses went cascading down her back and he crawled up behind her, burying his face in the side of her neck.
“I want to get lost like this,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her.
“Me, too,” she sighed, dropping her head back.
Holding her tightly, he stood up on his knees, forcing her to do the same. Then with one hand he unclasped her bra and helped her slide the material away from her arms. After she'd thrown it to the floor, he cupped her bare breasts in his hands and they both moaned.
“I can't ...” he struggled to speak, and she went still at his words. “I don't know if this right, Delaney. I can't promise you anything.”
“I'm not asking for anything,” she replied.
“I don't remember you. I didn't before, and I won't after,” he warned her. “But I swear to you, I remember this. I remember us.”
“Then let's remember together. Even if it's just for tonight.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” he said in a shaky voice, and was surprised to hear her chuckle.
“You died on me once. Nothing can hurt worse than that.”
“I don't want to scare you.”
“I've seen you at your absolute worse, Jay. Jon. Whoever. And I've seen you at your absolute best. And you could never, never, scare me.”
She knew him better than anyone else. Really, she was technically the only person who knew him, so he figured she also knew how to read between the lines. He didn't want to lay her down gently and make sweet love to her, then hold her afterwards while they both cried.
No, he wanted to sink his teeth into her and rip her apart and pull all her memories out of her, one by one. Wanted to find out if anything could feel as good as his muscles kept promising him. It will, they always whispered to him. In time, they kept telling him. His patience had run out, he was done with waiting.
I've waited my whole life for her.
They fell to the mattress together, rolled around until she was on top of him. He sat upright, holding her close with one arm and shoving his other hand into her thick hair. He balled it into a fist and yanked back. She let out a cry as her head was forced back, then she groaned when he bit down hard on her bottom lip.
“Were we always like this?” he whispered, kissing his way to her breasts.
“Yes,” she moaned, then she shrieked when he bit down on a nipple.
“Not possible. Nothing can feel this good for too long.”
“We did.”
“Was I always rough?” he asked, shifting his arm and slapping her on the ass. She smiled, but still couldn't look at him because he kept pulling her hair.
“As rough as I could make you be,” she purred.
“It was you,” he suddenly whispered, staring up at her. He let her go so she could look him in the eye.
“What was me?” she asked, panting lightly.
“I had this moment ... maybe a month after I got out of the hospital. I was at my volunteer job and I called ... called someone a bad girl, and it was like ... I knew those words. Like I'd said them before, to someone,” he told her. She pressed her forehead to his, her damp hair becoming a curtain around them.
“Mmm, you always said I was a good girl,” she told him, tracing her tongue along his bottom lip. He laughed and squeezed her butt.
“I highly fucking doubt that.”
“I wasn't, no. God, I was always so bad for you,” she groaned, rocking her hips against his, trapping his erection between them.
“I want you to be bad again,” he breathed, scratching his fingernails across her ass.
In response, she wrapped her hand around his cock and started stroking it. He started to moan, but was cut off by her lips. Her tongue slid in and out of his mouth in time to her strokes. She grabbed one of his hands and placed it over her breast, forcing him to squeeze, making him pinch her nipple.
“Jay,” she breathed into him, and he didn't even correct her about his name.
“What? Anything,” he sighed, wrapping his free hand around hers and making her pump faster.
“Please,” she gasped, wiggling her hips closer so his hand brushed against her core with every up and down sweep. “Please, I want you fuck me. Right now. So much.”
He just about exploded in her hand. Fuck, that was hot. Hotter than anything he could've imagined. He growled and let go of her hand, hugging her close for a second. Then he lifted her up, forcing her up on her knees again.
She held onto his dick as he lowered her onto him. Stared him straight in the eyes as he slid inside of her. Her mouth fell open and her brow creased with the effort she was exerting to accommodate him, but she didn't stop. No, not until she was fully sitting on his lap and his dick was where it belonged.
“God, you feel so ... fucking ... good,” he groaned, holding still so he wouldn't come right then and there.
“I lied,” she whispered. “You aren't different. You haven't changed a bit.”
She pumped her hips slowly against him once, reacquainting them with each other. Then she picked up speed. She put her hands on the bed behind her and leaned back so she could pump faster. Jon grabbed her by the hips and held her up so they could both thrust harder. She moaned and he watched her head drop back. Stared at her breasts as they bounced up and down.
“Fuck,” he swore when a tremor caused her pussy to clamp down on him. “Fuck, we have to stop. It's too much, I'm gonna lose it.”
“No,” she moaned, running her hand down her stomach. “We just got started.”
When she started touching herself, he almost lost his fucking mind. She was going to make him come, and it was way too soon for that. He didn't want the night to end any time soon, wanted to be inside her forever. But that wasn't possible, so he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, then spun them around. She shrieked as she was rolled onto her back, clawing at her hair and trying to push it out of her face.
“When I say something,” he breathed, kissing his way down her breastbone. “Maybe you should fucking listen.”
“Maybe you should fucking make me,” she panted. He twisted her nipple in response, making her cry out.
Then he continued kissing and licking his way down her stomach. He wondered if she'd stop him. If it was “too intimate” for their first time back together. But then her hand was in his hair, twisting and pulling at the thick strands, then gently pushing him further down her body.
He needed no further encouragement. He roughly gripped her thighs and spread them wide, forcing her legs high up. Then he went down on her like her pussy was his favorite dessert.
Probably because it is.
She actually screamed, then both her hands were in his hair. Pulling and pushing and stroking. She started shaking and babbling, her mouth seeming to run indep
endently from her brain.
“Oh my god ... yeah ... right there ... holy fuck, I'd forgotten what your tongue can do ... faster ... faster ... faster ... fuck, just like that, just like that ... right there ... just like that ...”
When he started thrusting two fingers inside of her at the same time his tongue was drawing circles, the babbling turned to incoherent shrieks. She pounded one hand on the mattress and alternately yelled both his names. He moved his mouth for a second to bite down on the inside of her thigh, and that did it. She came in a series of shrieks and sobs. She pressed her hands over her face while her whole body seemed to fall apart.
“God, just like that?” he whispered, sitting up but still pumping his fingers in her. “You came for me just like that.”
“Always,” she panted when her orgasm had tapered off. “Always like that for you.”
He felt like his duty had been done, and now it was really and fully his turn. He fell on top of her, kissing her hard and then making her suck on his dewy fingers. She did so happily, all the while stroking his cock again. When he got his knees back underneath him, she didn't even wait for direction. She lined him up and he drove it home, making her scream again with how hard he pounded into her.
“Fuck, how do I know all this!?” he shouted, sitting up and grabbing her by her calves, holding her legs wide apart while he fucked her.
“Because you've always known me,” she groaned, her hands on her breasts as she stared up at him.
“I know you love it hard,” he panted. “I know you love it rough. I know you'll let me do anything I want.”
“Anything you want.”
“I know you like it when I call you my dirty slut.”
No words that time, she just moaned as her eyes fell shut and he felt her clamp down around him again. He dropped her legs and lowered himself so his face was next to hers, his lips against her ear. He felt her heels on his ass, urging him faster.
“I know you love it when I fuck you,” he hissed in her ear, and he was rewarded with sharp fingernails dragging down his back. “And that you love it the most when I come inside you.”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “God, I love you. Please, please come for me. Make me come again. Anything, just don't ever stop. I love you.”
He leaned away and grabbed onto the headboard, then he didn't hold back. He was shouting as he pummeled her, his hips forcing her up the mattress and into the pillows. She was shrieking and gripping his waist with her hands, her thighs squeezing his hips tightly.
He was going to burst. Any second. Sweat was pouring over him, dripping off of him. He couldn't hold it back for much longer. He reached down and grabbed one of her hands, pried it off his body. Then he shoved it between them, forcing both their fingers in and around her wetness.
“You have to come for me, babe,” he was gasping for air. “Fucking let me see that perfection again. Do this with me. Oh, fuck, I'm coming.”
His entire body felt like it was bursting. Like a guitar sting that had been wound too tight, he finally snapped. He came with a roar, his hand going back to the headboard. He dug his fingers in so hard, he was pretty sure he was going to break off a chunk.
He could feel his dick growing and pulsing and throbbing inside of her. Her fingers were working against herself and him, and then she was coming, too. She screamed again and her pussy went into lock down mode, almost goddamn killing him. He felt faint as his orgasm just kept going. He didn't think he'd ever come so much in his entire life.
Well, really, she would know if that was true or not.
When he was finally done and his body had no more left to give, he groaned and collapsed on top of her. He didn't care that he was a lot bigger and heavier than her. He just needed to die for a second.
She didn't seem to mind, though. Her arms were out at her sides and she was trying to catch her breath. When he turned his head to face her, he almost laughed. Her eyes were closed, her hair was everywhere, and she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. But she was smiling. Almost grinning, really. He mustered up enough energy to scoot closer and kiss her.
“That was, without a doubt, the best sex I've ever had,” he panted. She snorted.
“Considering your memory is only six months long, there's not a lot of basis for comparison,” she replied, but she was teasing.
“Alright, Miss Know-It-All. I'm assuming we used to have a lot of sex,” he said. She licked her lips and nodded, and he felt her hips moving in a circle underneath him.
“Mmm hmmm, we did. Lots and lots and lots ...”
“So what do you think? Was that at least 'okay' in comparison to all the awesome sex we apparently used to have?” he asked. Her grin got even better.
“It was fucking amazing,” she sighed in a dreamy voice. “The best.”
“Told you so,” he whispered, dragging his tongue along the edge of her ear.
“Well,” she began, and her hips started moving again. “The best yet.”
He groaned and bit down on her earlobe.
“You know what? I like the way you think.”
“You always did.”
16
Jon was pacing again. He didn't know if it had been a habit in his former life, but it was certainly a habit now.
Sloany was sitting at the little table in his hotel suite, her hands clasped together in her lap. She wasn't saying anything. She knew he'd speak when he was ready.
Fuck, what am I supposed to say?
“What am I supposed to say?” he blurted out, turning to face her.
“Well, for starters, you could tell me what's got you so on edge,” she suggested. He groaned and started pacing again. He couldn't tell her that.
Delaney had stayed all that night and clear through the next afternoon. They talked and they had sex and they watched cartoons and they fucked and they ordered room service and they made love. Everything. Anything. All of it.
They took a shower together and nearly broke off the shower head. He pressed her against a window and she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he now knew what it felt like to orgasm while staring down forty flights. He sat on the sofa and she showed off her impressive deep throating skills. He couldn't remember ever coming down someone's throat before, but he assumed it was just as epic every time.
While laying in bed, they'd whispered to each other. She told him what the mood rings meant, and he'd cried with her, then kissed her tears away. Apologized for not being that man anymore, and the fact that he didn't know if he could ever be him. It wasn't fair, and not only for him, but even more so for her. Delaney was a truly good person, she deserved her happily ever after.
She'd also told him that she'd taken the ring off after she'd had a talk with Kitty. She wouldn't say what exactly the conversation had been about – just that it was private, and it had made her realize she might have been doing more harm than good by holding onto a memory. She only wanted him to be happy, she told him. That was it. Even at her own expense. And if happiness meant being with Kitty, then she would walk away in order for him to have it.
During one of the few times she'd slept, he'd sat up with his hands in his hair. Fuck, Kitty. What the fuck was he going to do? He'd just cheated on his girlfriend. His kind, sweet, nurturing girlfriend who had never done anything but try to help him. He thought of the night a couple weeks ago, when she'd offered to be bad for him. Offered to do all the things for him she'd thought Delaney would do. He'd turned her down, then gone out and gotten what she was offering from somebody else.
This is hell. I fell onto those tracks and died and this hell.
He said all that to Delaney when they finally got dressed the next day. He explained how Kitty was a good person, and said she'd done so much for him. Told her how he knew he owed something to Delaney, something to his past, but he also owed something to Kitty, to his present. How everything was confusing, and no amount of sex would ever change that for him. He just didn't know how he felt. He didn't know anything.
He wa
s positive any other woman would've gotten upset. Would've asked him to make a choice. Would've accused of him of trying to have his cake and eat it, too.
But not Delaney. She smiled sweetly at him, then gave him a long, slow kiss. It got his heart pounding in that odd familiar-yet-scary way. Like he was doing something he'd done all his life, the most right thing he could possibly ever do, and yet he had no memory of doing it before that moment. It was the same feeling he got when they had sex. When she made a certain sound, or laughed in the right way.
I know this woman.
She told him not to worry about it. That she understood. That they were more like two ships passing in the night. Two lovers finding each other again and getting lost for a moment. She would never ask for more than he could give. She would never be the cause for his pain. She was in love with him, she admitted. She had always been in love with him, and would always be – his accident had proven that would never change.
But it was okay. She'd kissed him once more. He'd asked if it would be alright to see each other again sometime. She'd said it depended on how he felt. Then she'd wished him luck on the book he'd written.
“I always knew you had it in you.”
And she was gone. Smiling at him as the elevator doors slid shut and separated them.
Is this forever now?
Of course, what he would never know was how she'd sobbed all the way home and didn't go to work for the rest of the week.
“Jon,” Sloany snapped, bringing him back to the present. “You're gonna wear a hole in the carpet. Either start talking or sit down.”
“Can you be in love with two people at the same time?” he asked. She surprised him by bursting out laughing.
“You are not in love with Katherine Beaumont,” she snorted. He noted she didn't say anything about who the other person was in his mind.
“I could be,” he insisted. “She's amazing, and thoughtless, and selfless, and ... and ... amazing.”
“You said that one already.”
Muscle Memory Page 17
