Page 6 of One Last Memory

“Just say the word, baby girl.” His voice was deep and breathy as he continued to run his fingers against me. No should have been my answer but between the attention this man was giving me and the overwhelming desire to be touched, I couldn’t fucking pass on this moment. Instead of giving him words, I responded by yanking his pants down under his cock and grabbing the length in my hands, stroking a few times. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about it. I can grab a condom but I’m negative for everything.”

In my little drunken haze, I hadn’t really thought about it either. Staring down at his cock in my hands, his length twitching against my palms, I knew that the rubber would be the safest option but I also wanted to feel him. “Negative, too. If you’re okay with it…” I got tested every time I went in for another round of meds just to make sure. It was just routine at this point.

He grunted into my shoulder, and for a split second, I told myself that I wasn’t worth it. That this was some strange conquest that he was on. But then I realized that grunt was all desire. “You’re going to feel like fucking heaven, sweetheart,” he spoke into my shoulder asI angled him toward my pussy and slowly urged him forward, my thighs wrapped around his waist. He didn’t resist as he sank into my heat until his hips were flush with mine.

We both sighed in some kind of sexual relief, the feeling so complete between us. Moments later, he was thrusting in and out of me in slow, sensual movements, lazily kissing my lips, tasting me as I rode the pleasure. I rocked with him, matching his rhythm as I kissed him back, my hands roaming under his shirt.

We were still mostly clothed but I couldn't have felt more on display as he fucked me on the counter, his hands grasping my waist with a possessiveness that I wasn’t used to. My orgasm sped toward me and I bit down on his lip as I came, my pussy squeezing around his length. He came soon after, leaning against me, our chests heaving and our breaths mingling.

“That was…”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” I abruptly said. His dick twitched inside of me and I fought the urge to rock against him again.

“There were two participants in this party.” He kissed me again, hanging there for a moment before pulling out, “Fuck, I can’t get enough of your taste.” He grabbed a few wipes from the counter and cleaned me up, lingering between my thighs, his fingers grazing over my flushed skin. We remained there in silence until he placed one last kiss on my lips, grabbed his bag, and disappeared out the front door.

What the fuck just happened?

Not waiting to get caught, I grabbed the whiskey and my journal before I raced to my room. That’s when all the thoughts came racing in – telling me how worthless I was, that I had just fucked everything up, that I should have left him for my sister to have – that…

But I shut all those down and opened my journal, pen at the ready. Yet for the first time, I didn’t want to write about the man I had just fucked. I wanted to remember him, cherish him. I didn’t want to bury him in the sand with the other painful memories. I didn’t want to forget the way he felt inside of me.

For the first time in a while… I wanted something. I wanted it to be mine. And that fucking terrified me.

BAILEE

IwokeuptoMalia’s twins swinging my hammock, rolling me out of bed, and dragging me to breakfast. I was hungover as shit, but I couldn’t use that as an excuse to skip yet another meal. Thank goodness for small mercies that I slipped on pants before passing out last night.

Dad granted me a small squeeze, which passed for his version of a morning hug, and whispered into my ear, “Really? The good whiskey?” I shrugged, climbing into my seat, head still banging as he slid me two Tylenol.

The sounds of munching and appreciative grunts met my ears. Zak and his fiancé were noticeably absent, but I didn’t comment on it as they always seemed to have a different agenda than we did. Or rather, his fiancé had a different agenda, and Zak went along with it.

“Bailee, we’re going out so the kids will hang with you, alright?”

I stiffened in my chair at Malia’s words. It was one of those things that always seemed like a given. But after last night, after Mason said those things and made me feel wanted,worth it– I didn’t really want to sit back and babysit children during my vacation. I wanted to go. Outside.

“Nope. Not today.”

Elissa shot me a confident smile, apparently happy that I was standing up for myself. Malia, on the other hand, grimaced and huffed a breathy sigh, “They aren’t any good with a sitter. Can’t you just-”

Hackles raised, I opened my mouth to spew a retort that would most definitely ruin breakfast. Instead, Elissa grabbed my hand and spoke for me. “She’s our sister, not our babysitter. Besides, Mom and dad said they wanted to hang with their grandkids. Let’s just go to that surfing lesson we’ve planned.”

Malia didn’t argue as she shoved another mouthful of potatoes between her lips, effectively ending the discussion. I dipped back into the food on my plate, my thoughts elsewhere, even amidst the chaos of devil spawn running around and screaming.

The delicious ache between my thighs. His lips. His hands.

I knew I wouldn’t see him again, but I wanted to. Was that wrong of me?

Malia was pissed, but she also seemed to know something was wrong. I just hoped she chalked it up to me being my weird, antisocial self again. For once, I wanted to hide behind those problems to hide the truth of last night. Because if anyone knew? They would tell me I was too unstable to hold a relationship. That acting out like that had repercussions.

It was only the men they chose that seemed to be viable options. I couldn’t be the free spirit I wanted. But for the first time in my life, I really fucking wanted to. And that’s how I ended up on my way down to the beach with my sisters, clutching a surfboard to my side as they dragged theirs along the sand. I didn’t really want to take surfing lessons, because while there were many things my family didn’t know – the fact that I could surf was one of them.

It was a great way to escape from everyday life, one I had wholeheartedly learned and used oneveryvacation.

We approached the surfer’s tent, clad in our swimwear. Elissa had a plain maroon bikini that suited her curves. No one would have known she was a mother with the way she held herself. Malia was wearing basically nothing, her top barely covering her tits, the same for the bottom piece. The slivers of cloth had an array of bright colors, obviously meant to draw attention. I wondered why she thoughtmoremen in her bed was a good idea.

I had opted for a one-piece because I wasn’t here to show off my ass to anyone who wanted to see it. Also, no one needed to see the scars on my stomach from moments that were too stupid to even think about. Bad decisions plus clumsiness meant wounds that held stories. Some of them hilarious, others… not so much.

We shuffled toward the back amongst a handful of others taking the class. The instructor’s attention landed on us, a wide smile spreading across his face. He looked like an entire work of art, sun-kissed hair, pale creamy skin, and abs that went on for days. But what really caught me? The free look in his eyes. Damn these men and that carefree expression.

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