Always Remember (Memories) (13 page)

She lifts her knees to straddle me, her hands moving across my bare chest. My dick presses against her and I flex my hips, letting her know just how badly I need her right now. My tongue sweeps her mouth and she pulls away, kissing down my chest. She crawls backwards, her heels touching the floor, and her fingers hook inside the waistband of my jeans.

I prop my head up, looking at her as I breathe slightly heavily. Fuck. Is she-

She pops the button open, and presses her lips to the skin just above it. I watch her raptly as she unzips and pulls down my jeans. Her fingers brush along the length of me and I clench my teeth, shivering slightly.

“Jen, baby...”

“
Ssh,” she orders, taking my boxers off. Her hand closes around my dick, her fingers squeezing slightly, and I drop my head back, shutting my eyes. She moves her hand, twisting it and twirling it as she rubs the whole length of me.

Her lips close over the head
, and I groan as she sucks me into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around as she moves her head backwards and forwards. My hand fists her hair, holding her head to me, and my hips buck with her movements. I look down at her.

Her eyes are focused on mine, and she smiles, flicking her tongue out and circling the tip of my cock slowly.

“Fuck,” I hiss out, watching as she closes her lips around me. She takes all of me, her eyes never leaving mine.

If this doesn
’t stop right now, I’m gonna finish it in the back of her throat.

I pull her from me, up my body, and flip us over. Her hair fans out around her head, and her eyes are shining. I take her dress from her shoulders, slowly sliding it down her arms and body until it
’s completely off of her. The red lacy underwear she’s wearing does nothing to help the throbbing in my dick.

I remove her bra swiftly, and she
’s breathing so hard it’s echoing off the walls. I circle her nipple with my tongue, sliding her thong down her legs at the same time. I drop down, trailing my hands across her body, and hook her thighs over my shoulders.

She gasps, and I dive my tongue inside her. She
’s ready for me, and I lick her slowly, teasing her, avoiding her clit. She wriggles on the bed, her hands fist the sheets, and she whispers pleas to me. I close my mouth over her hardened clit, sucking hard, and she cries out. I lick along her once more, and turn her to her side.

“
Bing,” she whimpers as I settle behind her.

“
Ssh,” I whisper, kissing her neck. I hold her leg up, and guide myself into her from behind. I slide into her wet tightness easily. She moans, moving her hips back into me, and her hand reaches behind my head to grab my hair. She grips it hard, arching her back as I thrust my hips into her faster.

I need to let go.

I keep kissing her neck and let go of her leg. My hand slides in front of her, my fingers finding her sensitive clit. I rub it in small circles, and she throws her head back. I pound into her, rubbing her harder, and drag my teeth along her neck, biting down softly.

Jen cries out, every muscle in he
r body tensing as her orgasm wracks her body. I grit my teeth, holding her to me, and I pump into her faster. Seconds later, I explode inside her and drop my head. She whimpers a little, and I kiss her shoulder where I bit her a little.

“
It’s... Okay,” she mutters.

I smile.
“Like it rough, babe?”

She sighs, turning her head towards mine. A small smile is teasing her lips, and even though her eyes are closed, I know its pure pleasure.
“If that’s how you do rough, then mhmm, I like it.”

I chuckle, covering her lips with mine. She kisses me back.

“No more,” she mutters. “I need sleep after that.”

I laugh, pulling out of her to get comfy. She gets up on shaky legs, crosses her room
, and grabs a towel. I grin as she wipes herself down. She walks back over to her bed, climbs in, and I tuck us under the covers, pulling her into me. Her back fits against my chest, and her legs entwine with mine, and as I breathe her in, I know.

I know right now I
’m the luckiest asshole in London, because Jennifer Mason is mine.

~

I lie on the sofa, my legs hooked over the back and my head dangling off the cushion. The weak winter sun is sneaking through the gap in my curtains, and I can imagine it glistening off the snow.

I close my eyes, scanning the park outside my flat without really seeing it. The trees stretching up into the sky with snow weighing down the branches, the white, foot step printed blanket on the ground, the empty swings moving and creaking in the gentle wind.
The green of the leaves on the bushes peeking out, the blades of grass just starting to break through the snow, the winter flowers unaffected by the cold temperatures.

I open my eyes, spin on the sofa, and jump up, heading to my room. I open my wardrobe, my eyes finding my art box at the bottom. I grab my oil paints, tuck an easel and canvas under my arm, and head back into the front room.

I set everything up, pull the curtain back, and gaze out of the window. It’s not a painting that has to be done for University – it’s a painting that needs to be done for me. I dip the brush in paint, and make the first strokes on the canvas.

The tree trunks set the tone, the brown hues dark and rough against the perfectly white canvas. Branches stretch out in every direction, gnarled and creeping.

I clean the brush. A dip in the green. The leaves, limp and lacklustre after the freezing cold weather. The bushes, barely noticeable in the area where the most snow is.

Another clean. Another dip. The red metal of the swing. Clean. Dip. The seat. Clean. Dip. The little terrier dog sniffing the ground. Clean. Dip. The owner, snuggled in a coat. Clean. Dip. The sky, peppered with white and grey clouds. Clean. Dip. The weak sun hiding partially behind one of the fir trees. Clean. Dip. The snow, settled on every surface. Clean.

A smaller brush. Dip. The minute details – the markings on the trees. The foot prints – and paw prints – in the snow. The winter berries on the bush. The tiny tips of the blades of grass poking through. The added golden hues to the sun, a warming breath ruffling my hair.

Wait.

I look up, paintbrush in hand. Bing is smiling down at me, a McDonald’s bag in his hand.

“Hello.” I smile. “When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago.” He puts the bag down on the table behind the easel and moves closer, standing behind me. He leans over, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and kisses my jaw gently. “You looked lost in this. I didn’t wanna scare you.”

I smile slightly, focusing back on the painting. “I guess I was.”

“It’s amazing,” he says softly, and I rest the side of my head against his, shrugging one shoulder.

“It
’s… It is what it is. It’s what I see when I look out of the window.”

“I have no idea why you go to University,” he mutters, tightening his arms around me. I put the paintbrush down, grinning.

“It’s because you go to work, so obviously I need something to fill my days so I don’t go crazy waiting for you to come and see me.” I put all the sarcasm in my body into that sentence, and he chuckles.

“That must be it.”

“Did you bring me food?”

“No, I
’m stupid enough to come to your place with it and not bring you any.”

“Well, I was just checking, I mean, you never know, do you?” I stick my tongue out, smiling cheekily at him.

He loosens his grip, lifting me out of the chair. I squeak.

“I thought we already established I
’m smart.” He kisses the back of my neck, causing little tremors to run down my spine. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”

“I thought I was with you?”

Bing runs his hands down my sides, following the natural curve of my body. They cup my hips for a second before travelling back to my stomach and resting there.

“You could be,” he says against my ear. “How about we just go with we
’re with each other?”

“That sounds good too.” I squirm in his hold, eyeing the bag of food. “Okay. I
’m hungry. What’s the time?”

“Half four.” He kisses my head and lets me go.

“It’s half four?” I step away, turning to look at him with my eyebrows raised.

He smirks. “Check your clock if you don
’t believe me, Jennifer.”

“I
’ll do just that, Samuel.” I poke my tongue out at him and stalk into the kitchen, swiping the paper bag of food from the side.

He
’s right – the small clock on the microwave reads half past four. I must have been sat painting for hours. Literally, hours. I glance over my shoulder at the canvas. It was worth it – and I know Mum and Dad will feel the same.

The McDonald
’s bag is full with food – Bing’s obviously large meal, my medium cheeseburger one, and those cheesy melt things I like. My stomach rumbles.

“How did you know to get the cheesy melts?” I can
’t help the smile on my face.

One side of his mouth curls up. “Lexy. I asked her what you like.”

I eye the drinks on the kitchen counter that I didn’t notice before. “And in there?”

“A strawberry milkshake.” He beams, clearly proud of himself.

“You’re pretty smart.” I skip over to him and kiss him lightly. He grabs me, his hands resting on my lower back, and mine press to his chest. He sucks my bottom lip, massaging it gently, and I feel it in the tugs in my lower stomach. Last night flashes back to me, the needy way he held me, the way he moved…

“Okay,” I breathe, feeling the temperature of the room rise about one hundred degrees. “I need food.” Hot eyes look down at me, and I nod once, moving away. “Yep. I need food. A lot of food.”

I laugh at the way she mutters to herself as she walks off.
I know exactly what she was thinking. I was thinking the same thing. Last night.

My body tenses as every drop of blood in my body rushes downwards, and my dick rushes upwards. I clench my fists, my eyes trawling her body. She
’s wearing those damn yoga pants again. The ones that hug her hips and cup her ass the same way my hands do. How did I not notice this before?

Fuck me.

She looks back at me, her blue eyes shining. Her pink lips curve upwards slightly, and she raises an eyebrow.

“What?” she asks.

“I need my food,” I grumble. I grab it from the side, ignoring the way her eyes flick down to the bulge in my pants. She sucks the corner of her top lip into her mouth, and I turn away from her.

Focus on the food, Bing. Focus. On. The. Food.

No.

The painting? Okay.

Stuffing some chips into my mouth, I lean back on the sofa, my eyes trained on the painting. I wasn’t lying when I said it was amazing. I have no idea how she can pick up a brush and create something like that. I have no idea how the full of life, bubbly Jen I know can sit still for so long, so at peace.

That was why I didn
’t interrupt her. I could see the peace in her face. It was the way her lips curled up in a soft, calm smile. The way her eyes flit to the window and back, the way she blinked, her lashes fanning her cheeks, and it was the smooth movements of the brush across the canvas as she painted.

You can see how much she needs it. It calms the fire inside her, letting her just be. I know what that is to her, because the way she feels with the brush in her hand is the way I feel with her in my arms.

She calms the playboy inside me. She challenges the challenger in me. She softens the hardness inside me.

She could be
everything I’ve always needed.

Lexy throws the dart at the board in my room. “So you haven’t spoken to Heidi?”

“Why would I have spoken to her?” I scoff. “She might have text me, but it doesn
’t mean I’ve replied.”

“
Mmm,” she responds, shooting the dart again.

“
‘Mmm’? What does ‘mmm’ mean?” I sit up straight just as her dart falls to the floor.

She sighs. “I just… I don
’t know. It’s Heidi. She was the first girl you ever, well, had sex with more than twice.”

“And? It was just sex with her.”

“So you say, Bing, but none of us really know that for sure.” She sighs again, dropping her poised arm. “And you did cheat on her.”

“Isn
’t that enough to show it was never more than sex?”

“I don
’t know.” She turns, shrugging. “I know you like Jen, all right? I can see it in how you act around her. Hell, you’ve been like a kettle just before boiling point since she moved here last year. Any time her name was mentioned you went off worse than me with PMS.”