by Rye Hart
“I don't want you to regret anything,” he whispers, pushing the loose bits of hair back away from my face.
He's right. I know he's right. We shouldn't do this. There's no sane, rational reason for my body to react to him the way it does – and yet, it does. I want to do this.. It's a primal need, as if my body somehow remembers him and has yearned for him for years. What if I don't get my memory back? What if this is the new normal for me? Would being with him make me happy?
The answer in my head is clear – yes. Jack is the type of man I can see myself with, whether I remember him or not. Not Peter, a man who never even came looking for me. Jack is here though, and the way he looks at me, it's as plain as the nose on my face to see that he loves me. It's too early for me to love him, but he's someone I could love in time. Of that, I have no doubt. I once loved him, didn't I? Would it be that hard to love him again? Doubtful.
“I'm not going to regret this,” I say at last.
I kiss him again, this time our tongues meet, and his hands slowly glide across my body. I reach below the blanket and feel that his cock is already hard and ready. I slip a hand down his boxers and grip him in my hand firmly. Jack groans as he presses his head back into the pillows. His entire body tenses up.
“You want this. I want this. What's there to regret?” I say, my voice a bit breathy.
I move down his body, pushing the blanket out of the way. I need to see him, to taste him. Jack doesn't stop me. Instead, he watches my every move as I pull his cock out of his boxers and lower my mouth to it.
He's thick, my small hands barely wrap around the base of him. I have to open my mouth wide to take as much of him into me as I can, and he thrusts himself past my lips. A growl escapes his lips, and he cries out.
“Jesus,” he gasps.
He's too long to take him all the way into my mouth, so I use my hand to make up the difference. Bobbing up and down on his cock, I swirl my tongue around the head as I suck him off. Jack reaches down and removes the tie from my ponytail, letting my hair fall around my face, almost shielding me from view. He then pushes the hair back and I glance up, catching him staring at me.
That look. There it is again. Like I am the most beautiful woman in the world. Like I'm a Goddess or an angel or some other magnificent being he can't believe is real. That look alone causes an ache down below, a tightness in my body that can only be loosened by having him inside of me.
I love the way he looks at me though, as I suck his dick, and I keep going. I move faster, gripping him tighter, as the salty taste of pre-cum fills my mouth. I lick it up, swallowing it as he moans my name.
“Sydney, please – ”
“Please what?”
“You're going to make me come.”
His voice comes out almost a growl. I go back to what I'm doing, taking even more of him into my mouth as I stroke his cock harder and faster. I want to make him come. I want to make him fill my mouth with his seed. Jack's hands pull me off of him though, and he's laughing.
“You're too fucking good with your mouth, I won't last much longer,” he says.
He strokes my cheek, and as much as I want him to shoot his load into my mouth, to give him that pleasure for being so good to me, I see the way he looks at me and feel my insides quivering. The heat between my thighs flares up and feels like an inferno burning within me.
He's waited so long for this. He doesn't want to rush.
He wants what I want too.
I move away from his cock, kissing up the length of his tummy, lifting his shirt up as I go. His abs are rock solid. His body is all hard planes and angles and he's really as strong as he looks. Tattoos dot his chest, military tattoos from the looks of it. I lift his shirt up and over his head, pressing myself into him as we kiss.
I nibble his ear, “I'm not wearing any panties.”
I swear, his eyes almost pop out of his skull as I straddle his body and feel him pressing against me. His hardness against all my softness. There is nothing to keep him from entering me. Nothing at all is stopping us now. Except...
“Do you have a condom?”
He nods, and reaches over to the bedside table, opening the top drawer. He reaches inside and pulls out a brand-new box of condoms. He quickly tears the box open and fishes one of the plastic squares out and hands it to me.
“If you're sure – ”
“I'm positive,” I say.
I take the rubber in my hand and open it. I lift my body off him and bite my bottom lip, looking him in the eye as I slide the condom down his shaft. Jack groans and tries to help me along the way. Once he's sheathed inside of the rubber, I lower myself back down, this time the tip of him presses against my opening.
Just one thrust and we'll be united, together as one.
I'm wet and aching for him, and Jack looks downright crazy with lust. He grabs hold of my hips and pushes me down, his dick slipping between the folds of my lips, rubbing my clit.
My head falls forward onto his chest and I groan.
“Take off your shirt,” he commands.
His voice changed. It's more demanding than I've ever heard it. That wasn't a request – it was a demand. Something shifted inside of him. He's more commanding. More authoritative – and I like it.
I do what he asks and lift his shirt off over my head, my breasts already free from a bra. Lowering his head, he takes one of my soft, pink nipples between his lips and sucks. My body spasms with sensation and it’s like there's an electrical circuit running through my body – straight down to my pussy. As Jack's hands knead my flesh and he pleasures my body with his mouth while he's sheathed deep inside of me, sensations course through me. My every nerve ending feels like it's on fire and my pulse is racing like I've just run a marathon.
“Jack, yes – fuck me, Jack.”
He grips my hips and lifts me up, positioning me right where he wants me before he thrusts his hips, driving that long, thick, glorious cock into me. We both let out a groan as he fills me up and stretches me open. I cry out and my toes curl as he thrusts deeper into me, making me lose all control of my body. I'm like a rag doll, but thankfully Jack keeps me moving until I adjust to the amazing sensations swirling inside of me.
I grind myself against him, my clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, taking him deeper inside of me as I move back and forth on top of him. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are half closed, but he's still looking straight at me with a look of absolute ecstasy on his face. He's still looking at me as if he can't believe this is real. That look sets my body on fire and I feel myself growing wetter as I slide up and down on his thick rod.
“You're so beautiful, Sydney,” he groans through gritted teeth.
I close my eyes, and I feel like I've been transported to another time and place. His groans and the sound of his breath are a soundtrack to a memory that hits me hard. We've done this before. I recall being on top of him, feeling him stretching me open just like he is now. I recall that it hurt back then, but only for a bit. Once the pain had subsided, it felt amazing as we made love in his bedroom.
Yes, his bedroom. I remember now. As I rise and fall, impaling myself on his hard cock, I'm buffeted by images and memories from the past. They come pouring into my mind and I can't seem to stop them. I throw my head back and cry out as I fuck him, bouncing up and down on that glorious rod harder and faster.
I feel one of Jack's hands on my hips, helping guide me. The other slides up to my breast where he pinches my stiff nipple, drawing a pleasant, familiar shudder from my body. As I rock back and forth on his cock, I remember that back then, there had been Metallica posters lining his walls. I remember the smell of incense. In my mind's eye, I can see piles of clothing – mostly black – on the floor and that his bedding was ragged and old.
“You get on top,” he'd said to me back then. “Because I don't want to hurt you.”
“But I don't know what to do,” I'd admitted sheepishly.
“I'll help you,” he said. “We'll figure it out
, Sydney. It'll be okay. I just want to watch you.”
His smile was so sincere, and his face not nearly as chiseled as it is now. His beard was nothing but a patch of fuzz, a five o'clock shadow because he never cared enough to shave. Yet, I knew it was him, and I knew this memory was real.
I open my eyes and stare down into his eyes. This time, I know those eyes. They're vividly familiar. I remember that I'd lost my virginity to him all those years ago, and I loved him back then. Dearly. More than I could even comprehend at the time.
“I remember you, Jack,” I whimper, throwing my head forward and planting my hands on that hard, toned chest. “Oh God, I remember you – ”
He stops moving for a moment, but I keep moving my hips. Keep fucking him. I want to feel him buried deep inside of me, to feel all of him. The memory and all the feelings that have come rushing to the surface only heighten my arousal, and I grab onto Jack's body, digging my nails into his flesh, as I cry out.
“Oh God, I'm going to – ”
As if on cue, and as if he can read my mind, he thrusts himself deep into me again, and I scream. Pleasure tears through my body and I thrash wildly on top of him. Jack holds me tight, his face twisting as if he's concentrating really hard, but I know that face because I've seen it before.
“Come, Jack – yes, come with me, baby,” I moan. “Please, baby.”
As if my words give him permission and unlock something inside of him, a growl pushes past his lips as he pulls me down hard onto his cock. My pussy spasms around him, squeezing that thick shaft tight as I come. My own orgasm brings out his, and together, we ride out the waves of pleasure together. Eyes locked on one another, watching as we both shudder with absolute bliss.
When the pleasure subsides and we're both spent, I collapse on top of him, my body weak, my mind still spinning. The words he spoke at the time ring as clear in my head in the moment as they had back then.
“I love you, Sydney. I love you more than anything in this fucked up world.”
“I love you too, Jack.”
“Promise?” he asks me, a teasing tone.
“Yes, silly. I'm putting off college for you, aren't I?”
“You shouldn't do that. We'd survive you being in Berkeley. It's not that far away, you know.”
“It's too far. I never want to leave your side.”
It brings a smile to my face. Ahh, young love, I think to myself. More like young, naïve love, now that I can look back at it with the experience of life. I open my eyes and see Jack watching me, carefully. Those words may have been said years ago, but I can see in his eyes that they still hold true today. He still means it to this very day. All of it.
“Don't look so serious,” I tell him, kissing the tip of his nose. “That was pretty amazing, wasn't it?'
“Oh God, it was,” he says. “It's just – you said something during – well – you said you remembered me.”
“I do,” I say quietly. “At least some of it. I remember the first time we had sex. Being with you just now brought that memory back up and into my mind.”
His eyes grow wide, but he doesn't say anything. I sit up and help him remove the condom, which is soaked with his cum, before tossing it in a trash can next to his nightstand and then fall down beside him on the bed. I'm still smiling as he curls up beside me. He still looks very serious.
“Do you remember anything else?” he asks slowly, as if afraid of how I might answer the question.
I think about his question for a bit before answering. “I remember how much I loved you. And that you loved me just as much,” I say. “I remember that I put college off for you, even though you told me to go anyway.”
He nods. “You eventually went after all.”
My smile falters as I start connecting some dots in my mind. “Is that why you went into the Marines?”
“Something like that.”
“I'm sorry, Jack,” I say. “I'm sure that hurt you. My leaving you like that.”
He props his head up on his hand and stares at me intently, the light of love in his eyes shining no less brightly. I can see that he's wrestling with something in his mind though. It's almost as if he has something to say and he's debating whether or not to say it. I don't want to press him – even though I'm dying to know what it is – and decide to wait him out.
After a few moments, he seems to nod to himself as if he's come to a decision. I can see it in his eyes.
“No, Sydney, you don't understand. I hurt you,” he says. “You would have given up anything to be with me, and I couldn't let that happen. You had your whole life ahead of you and I didn't want to fuck that up. At the time, I was going nowhere, and you had the whole great big world in front of you for the taking. You were so much better off without me.”
“Well, I can't remember exactly what happened,” I say, scrunching up my face. “But the older me understands and appreciates you looking out for me.”
“I'm not so sure you'll feel that way once you remember everything.”
“I am,” I say, cuddling up to his warm, naked body as I push the doubts away. “And let's just focus on here and now, please? That's what matters to me right now.”
“Of course,” he says and then places a soft kiss on the top of my head as he holds me close. “I just want what's best for you, Syd. I always have.”
“I know, Jack,” I say softly. “I know that now.”
ooo000ooo
“I hate you, Jack Bronson. I hate you so much,” I scream.
“Well, good. Because maybe now you won't fuck up your life,” he says. He doesn't look at me. “I only wanted to fuck you anyway. Wanted to bust that cherry. And now that I've had that tight, virgin pussy – ”
His head is rocked to the side when I slap him across the face. The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh echoes in the air around us and he shuts up almost instantly. He glances up at me and rubs his red cheek.
“Stop being a child, Sydney. You know I'm an asshole,” he says. “I screw girls and dump them. That's what I do. You were just another conquest. Did you really think you were special or something?”
“I don't believe you.”
“Not my fault you're stupider than you look.”
I reach back to slap him again, but there's no fight left in me. I let my arm fall to my side and feel the tears, fat and warm, rolling down my face.
As an adult, I can see it now. Jack isn't looking at me when he delivers those horrible words. More than that, there's an unmistakable, profound pain in his eyes. He's intentionally pushing me away.
“I never want to see you again,” I spit.
“Sounds good to me,” he says. “I already got what I came for.”
He turns and walks away. I shout again, at the top of my lungs, desperately trying to wound him as deeply as he's wounded me.
“My dad was right about you. I hate you.”
He doesn't turn around, but he does stop. He stops walking away from me, and I think maybe I've won. Tears stream down my cheeks and my throat hurts from screaming. But after a moment's hesitation, Jack keeps on walking.
“Did you ever love me, Jack?” I call out.
He doesn't answer. He just keeps walking. At the time, that was the only answer I needed.
I wake up in with rivulets of sweat rolling down my face. I sit bolt upright in bed, shaking my head, trying to clear the cobwebs out of my brain. I feel disoriented as I look around the room and it takes me a long time to remember where I'm at. The man next to me is snoring peacefully, oblivious to the pain I'm feeling. I stare at him for a long time, and even more memories come back to me.
Years of waiting. Of heartbreak. Of wondering where he went. I'd gotten my wish, I never saw him again. Not until now, that is.
The dream isn't what woke me up, however. Sunlight streams through the window, and I glance at the clock. It's six in the morning. Way too early. I know I should go back to sleep, and I try. I curl up in bed and pull the blanket up over my body, turning away from Jack. I
close my eyes and a seemingly never-ending torrent of memories come flooding back into my mind. Most of them I want to shut out. To deny. To pretend never happened or think that they're just part of my brain still being scrambled. I'm having trouble separating truth from fiction. At least, that's what I tell myself to make it bearable.
I open eyes again though, my body suddenly tense, my mind alert. A sound downstairs makes me sit up again and I feel the cold waves of fear crashing down over me.
“Gunner?” I call out.
The dog peers up at me from his position beside me on the floor, his tail wagging now that I've said his name. Definitely not the dog.
There’s another sound coming from downstairs and it shoots an electric bolt of fear through me.
I push off the blanket, climb out of bed as quietly as I can, and walk down the hallway, Gunner on my heels. I scratch his head as I stand on the landing, looking at the ground floor down below.
Someone is at the door.
A face that looks strangely familiar peers back at me through the glass, and suddenly, I'm keenly aware that I'm standing there entirely naked. With a small squeak, I hurry back into the bedroom, grabbing the shirt and trying to find a pair of pants. The knocking grows louder – loud enough that I fear he might break the glass on the door.
From his position just inside the bedroom door, Gunner lets out a low growl and a huff under his breath. I can see the hair on his neck and back standing up. He's definitely not happy about something.
“Jack, wake up,” I say.
He doesn't respond, just continues to snore, so I shake him until he opens his eyes, instantly alert.
“What's wrong?”
“Someone's knocking on the front door,” I say. “I think – I think it might be Peter.”
Jack jumps from the bed, throwing on some clothes. He looks at me, his eyes narrowing and his face growing harder.
“Stay put,” he says, his voice commanding. “I'll handle it.”
I'm shaking now as I curl up on the bed, bringing my knees to my chest. Gunner follows Jack out of the room and I hear his nails clicking on the wood as he makes his way downstairs, barking at the door so I can't hear what's going on at first.
