Part 11 (2/2)

”Rub yourself for me,” he commands as he slings both my calves over his shoulders. I wail at the new sensation. He hilts so deep inside of me that my eyes roll to the back of my head. ”Rub your c.l.i.t, Lucy.”

I reach down and spread myself open, rubbing her for him as he requests. He sighs in approval and slows his thrusts. I can feel his shaft fattening, swelling with each pa.s.s. The wet friction on my c.l.i.t verges on unbearable, and I squirm all over him, whimpering and whining as I reach my o.r.g.a.s.m. I struggle to hold in my cries of sincere, deep pleasure as I tumble off the precipice of rapture.

”Come for me, Lucy,” Landon orders as he studies my contorted look.

I breach my pinnacle.

”Oh, G.o.d,” I whine. ”s.h.i.+t.”

My soft walls pulse around his c.o.c.k. I flail a moment, my abs tightening to sit and hold Landon close to me. He's unrelenting. He stays inside me and lifts me from the counter. He isn't gentle now as he bucks into me, his hips slapping against the back of my thighs.

My hands link around the back of his neck and I watch him in my sweet reverie as his eyes clench closed. His c.o.c.k gives way inside me and he starts to fill me.

We embrace as though we want to become one ent.i.ty. Landon's arms encircle my torso entirely and I sink my nose into the nook of his collarbone. I'm safe. I'm whole. They are feelings, long, lost and forgotten feelings so elusive that I'm scared they'll immediately evaporate as soon as I let him go.

When he finally pulls away, he helps me regain my footing, still s.h.i.+vering from the magnitude of the o.r.g.a.s.m he gave me.

He holds me in close to his body, resting his chin atop my head and places delicate kisses upon it. I make sure to make the most of this moment. I inhale his sweet, familiar odor and kiss his bare flesh. My b.u.t.terflies haven't let up. Landon, even in a state of amnesia, makes me feel so alive, so safe, so feminine, so beautiful, so wanted...

”What are you doing to me?” I hear him say from above me.

I wish I knew.

13.

The next morning, I sit at my easel in his t-s.h.i.+rt, suddenly realizing what to add to the girl in the painting.

Landon is out in the backyard a.n.a.lyzing the full extent of the damage to his bike. There's a smile on my face I can't hide no matter how hard I've tried. He's got one too.

There's a quieter part of my mind disgusted that I didn't tell him everything... But I'm ignoring it.

My brush strokes glide and weave along the edges of the girl in my painting. Today's palette is filled with muted pastels. They leap and dance around her and I add some light reflections into her otherwise sullen gaze. She has awoken.

I spin around with a smile and walk over to my radio. The dust is a sign of its use. I don't remember the last time I had music on in here. Whichever genre of music station we received out here tended to bore me quickly. But I dial the tuner to the local Top 40 station and some cheesy boy band starts crooning through the speakers.

My immediate reaction is to change it. So I don't.

The girl in my painting...What else does she need? I step left to right with the rhythm and try invoke my muse. My paintbrush is weaving through the air. I'm happy. This must be how happy feels. It's been so long since I've felt it. My heart is alive. I'm alive.

A tilt of the head.

Perhaps she needs some brighter flowers...

A wreath...

Lillies...

Babeen approaches me. ”What do you think, Babeen?” I shout over the music. ”What do we think of adding some flowers? Too cliche.”

Meow.

Stepping back to the easel, I sketch out the bloom that will sprout from the girl's exposed ribcage. My b.u.t.t's swaying left and right as I do it. I'm dancing. I don't dance at all let alone when I paint. But it's fun. I swipe small streaks of pale pink atop the brown below it. The tones compliment each other perfectly.

”Luce!” Landon yells over to me from the doorway.

”Yeah?” I don't turn around to look back to him. All I want to do is keep dancing and painting. I want to hold onto this feeling, longing to exist in this moment forever if it were possible.

He mumbles something back to me. ”What was that?” I say back. ”Can't hear you. Music's too loud!”

”Lucy!” he shouts again.

I turn over my shoulder with a smile as he walks to the radio. The grease from his hands stain the dial. There's new silence. I'm brought back down to earth.

”What's...Up?”

”I really do need someone with a truck to get me and my girl outta here. She's not in good shape. Might even be written off at this point.”

I put my paintbrush down on the easel.

”Oh.”

It wasn't enough; Last night wasn't enough to make him want to stay.

This isn't how this was supposed to go. Our connection, the way we made each other feel, I really thought it would be enough to make Landon stay. Who would walk away from this?

”Can you help me find a ride out to Jethrow? It'll be the last favor I ever ask of you, I promise.”

That statement cuts me more deeply than he'll know. I want him to ask favors; I want him to ask them of me every day of his life, please. I'd willingly, happily oblige every time.

Even still, it can't and won't happen. Anxiety creeps back in. The happy bubble I'd been in only minutes earlier had burst, dropping me with a hard thunk back down to real life again.

Landon's leaving.

Landon's leaving soon.

These are truths I have to accept.

Either I let him go or I suffer more.

I have one task left and that is to help him get out now before we grow closer. I've been reckless- My heart can't take this roller-coaster anymore. I want him to remember me, but what would I say if he did? How could I explain keeping our history a secret? Would he forgive me?

I drop my gaze to my palette.

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