Midnight Memories

This was not his style, if Jamie Benn could be said to have a style with women.

He pushed through the door and into the crowd around the bar. With nothing but space to build, he’d have thought Dallas might make it’s bars more spacious. No luck as he turned sideways to fit his big frame between the wall and some cowboy in a hat. Bumping into those guys was no fun. Jamie could probably take him, but was much more interested in another prize.

She was, as promised, leaning against the far end of the bar. He silently thanked God and Texas. In a red tank top, denim shorts and a pair of brown cowboy boots, the girl of this night might be the girl of his dreams. Or one very specific dream in particular.

They’d been together in his dream last night. Sure Jamie had gone to sleep with this girl on his mind, after meeting her just a few hours before. He shouldn’t be thinking the things he was thinking, and felt guilty of imagining the softness of her skin or the curve of her waist. Still he could not control what he did in his sleep - and there wasn’t much he hadn’t done to her.

She’d kissed him first, in the dream. As dreams do, it had no context: they were nowhere he recognized, with no backstory to explain why she pressed her lips to his, fingers twisting into his hair, then her breasts and hips to his body like a sponge begging to be soaked. The timeline was jumpy - one second they were kissing, then Jamie was on top of her, slotting his wide thigh between her slender legs. She had moaned softly as their bodies came together, trembling with anticipation. From there the memory really made him blush.

Now was not the time to remember it. She was here: all long brown curls and longer legs, curvy hips and a rack was just shy of making her outfit too tight. She was waiting for him.

Be cool, he thought.
___

Marissa shifted on her heels. She wasn’t uncomfortable - politely fending off cowboys was part of her daily job. Instead she was anxious to see one guy in particular. Though she’d only met Jamie twenty-four hours earlier, she’d been thinking about him a lot. The internet didn’t help. Why did he have to be a hockey player? Stopping herself after a Google image search and quick look at his stats had been impossible, so she allowed just five more minutes for gossip. She found none. That was a surprise. A quick search for Jamie’s partner in crime Tyler Seguin had yielded plenty. If Google couldn’t find anything, maybe there was nothing to find.

It seemed impossible, based on how other tall, dark and handsome, not to mention rich and marginally famous, guys behaved in the world. But it fit with her impression upon meeting Jamie: sweet, shy, a little awkward. Still he ran with Seguin, who had run through most of the waitresses at her job. So he wasn’t a complete angel.

Maybe that’s where her subconscious got the idea that she should take control. As soon as Marissa closed her eyes, she dreamed of seeing Jamie again. This time she didn’t wait for him to fumble his way into asking for something, she simply reached up and kissed him, skipping the formal and going right to familiar. Only the kiss was like plugging in a string of lights, everything blazed to life at once. Her body crashed to his. His hands closed on her hips, locking her in. Jamie had sighed into the kiss like he was grateful she’d made the move. Her memory leapt ahead - the next thing she remembered was being underneath him, all two hundred-plus pounds, pressing her down into a bed. Whose bed, she couldn’t say. She didn’t care.

Marissa looked up from her drink and there he was, in real life. White v-neck shirt, dark hair raked back from his face. He didn’t tower over the room but seemed to take up more space, as if he were used to pushing people out of his way. His face lit up when he saw her.

“Hey,” he smiled.

Jamie moved to kiss her cheek. Marissa did the same, but they were clumsy and missed a bit and her lips met the corner of his, just barely.

His hand grabbed her hip to steady them both. Her fingers wrapped around his bicep. For a moment they were still, hearts pounding.

This was the dream. This was how it started. Like a random flash in that comes hours later, they both remembered the x-rated, sheet-twisting and completely inappropriate fantasies had begun with precisely this kiss.

Marissa parted her lips. Jamie’s hands moved to her waist. She kissed him just as he pulled her in hard - she didn’t remember that - and held her tightly against the strong wall of his body. Her fingers in his hair, his sigh dropping that broad chest against her breasts. Jamie’s tongue slipped past her lips and tasted liquor, ice, heaven. She gasped - the single sexiest noise he’d ever heard.

“Let’s get out of here.” Jamie had never said that before.

Fingers entwined, he bowled back toward the front door. This time he didn’t care who he bumped into.

He’s nice, this isn’t bad, Marissa said as she raced to keep up. His shoulders were a mile wide, flexing beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to a woman he brushed past.

God, who cares? I’m going to fuck him anyway, Marissa thought.

His car was in the lot: black Escalade. It was so Texas that she smiled. Jamie went right to the passenger side and opened the door for her. That was so Texas that she took the passenger seat, legs hanging outside the car, and pulled Jamie in for another kiss.

Semi-private was all he needed. Not that anyone cared about the Stars and if they had seen the captain groping a hot girl in a bar, they’d have been impressed. But half-hidden behind the door of his truck meant all Jamie could see was the dream. Marissa held the back of his neck as she twisted her tongue against his; Jamie pushed her knees apart and moved right in between her legs. Standing like this made him feel giant and invincible. In his mind he became that guy; the one who picks up a 10 with barely a word, takes her home, has his way. Jamie’s hands moved up the outside of Marissa’s smooth, tan thighs until his fingers brushed the fringe on her cut-off shorts.

Marissa knew what he wanted. And just like in the dream, she knew he’d never take it for himself. She had kissed him once, now twice, but Jamie needed to be clear what she was offering before he agreed. Because once they left that lot, she intended to get it. She pushed to the edge of the seat, spreading her legs wider. Jamie’s lap bumped hers and he groaned softly into their kiss. Marissa pressed again, expectantly.

Jamie’s body throbbed. All blood was rushing south and between that and his tongue in her mouth, it was overwhelming. There was only one thing to hold on to: he slid hand hands under Marissa’s ass and yanked her closer.

“Jamie,” she said softly.

He ground his trembling erection against her soft spot for just a moment, then he stepped back. Jamie might not be this guy all the time, but he definitely wasn’t the guy who did some girl in the parking lot. He’d asked Marissa out because he liked her. He was about to like her a lot more, for a lot longer, in as many ways as he could think of. But not like this.

“Let’s go home,” he said.
____

His condo was big, nice; Marissa vaguely had the impression of a roommate it didn’t really register. She was busy leaning against the wall inside the front door, Jamie’s mouth on hers and his arms around her waist. She was surprised they’d made it this far - there was a moment in the elevator when they caught each other’s eye and Marissa almost hit the emergency stop just to have this guy. He must’ve been thinking the same, and they started laughing. She bumped against Jamie’s side and he put his arm around her like they were a couple. They made it all the way to his floor.

Now there was something playful about the way he kissed her as he dropped his keys onto mail table nearby. Shoes lined the floor, she couldn’t get her heels to the wall. Just as well that Jamie was holding her up.

“This is my place,” he finally said when he needed a breath.

Marissa looked only at him. “It’s gorgeous.”

He smiled, flattered. Oh God, here we go, she thought. Right down the rabbit hole. If he was going to be this cute and deliver on any part of the promises his body was making, she might be in real trouble here.

“Wanna see the rest?” Jamie couldn’t think of a polite way to get her into the bedroom fast enough. He took her hand and practically ran through the place calling out, “Kitchen. Living room. Closet. Bathroom.”

Finally, through the last door at the end of the hallway. “My room.”

Marissa shrugged. “I wasn’t looking.”

Jamie grinned victoriously. “Looks better in the morning anyway.”

He closed the bedroom door.

This time it was natural, expected. The relief he felt knowing she wanted this was almost as intoxicating as having her in his arms. She lifted his t-shirtas she ran her fingers along his abs, then around to his back. He broke off kissing to let her pull the shirt overhead. It seemed only fair he make the same move, and reached for her top.

“I got it,” she said. Crossing her arms, Marissa pulled it off in one smooth motion. Her hips rolled and stomach tightened but that was nothing for Jamie compared to seeing her breasts bounce as she whipped the shirt over her head. Those long curls tumbled around her shoulder and he knew he was staring.

She wore a dark gray balconet bra that lifted her breasts up like cakes on a platter. Jamie couldn’t help reaching for her - first a hand at her waist, then up her body until it was full of that soft round. His other hand quickly followed, then his mouth to the tender skin and he buried his face in her body. She welcomed it, drawing him close, her touch ghosting down his spine and over muscles she had never felt before. Before long his hand wandered to the waistband of her shorts.

Again Marissa stepped back and did the work for him - a roll of her hips and those shorts were skimming the curve of her ass, on their way to the floor. Her gray panties matched the bra, turning Jamie’s mouth dry.

“Your turn,” she said playfully.

He couldn’t be coy. Jamies was out of his shorts in a heartbeat, kicking them away. He expected Marissa to at least shake her head in disappointment, but she was biting the corner of her lip.

Jamie’s upper body was nothing compared to his lower body. He was muscle on muscle, thick and firm, wrapped in boxer briefs like a present at a party. He glanced down, following her eyes, knowing what he’d see: he was hard, almost painfully so, the soft fabric of his shorts straining to keep his desire in.

In one move Jamie laed Marissa on the bed and followed, hovering for a heartbeat before pouring himself over top of her. It was just like in her dream: two hundred and ten pounds of warm, solid Jamie Benn pressing her into the mattress. He guided her arms overhead, holding them still, and kissed her. HIs strength, the weight and heat of him, all coupled with the searing kiss as too much for Marissa. If she’d never gone home with a guy from a bar before this, she’d have understood why people did it. Now she knew she’d never do it with anyone else again.

Jamie was hyperaware, feeling every part of himself only where it met Marissa’s soft, smooth shape. Her long arms lead down to her delicate collarbone. Below that the breasts he’d coveted, bared by the simple snap of a clasp. He tossed her bra away, lifting her nipple and rolling it against his tongue. She purred and pushed her hands through his hair again. South of the border, everything throbbed. Marissa felt it too: she lifted her hips and stroked against him.

“Baby,” he warned. A throaty giggle rose from her chest and she did it again.

She couldn’t wait. Drawn out and strummed like a guitar string, Marissa was trembling with desire. Every tiny move pushed Jamie’s erection against her hip. Her pussy ached to be next. When he released her hands, she slipped them into his shorts. He caved to her demands and then was naked. At the same time, Jamie snagged her panties and rolled to tug them all the way off her kicking feet. On the way back, he pushed her knees wide apart. She was perfect, of course, and her body felt so small beneath his big hands. This moment called for patience he did not possess.

As his touch raced up her inner thigh, Marissa simply grabbed Jamie’s wrist and pulled him on top. His erection once against nestled deep into the groove of her body, this time with nothing between them. Marissa bucked her hips involuntarily and Jamie nearly pushed inside. They looked at each other. She did it again and his tip nudged her open.

Jamie kissed her as he pressed inside. Marissa was hot and tight but Jamie screwed himself inside until he was buried to the hilt. Only then did he let out the groan of pleasure he’d been fighting.

“Fuck,” she panted as he moved. He was rock hard and pulsing, she could feel him like she’d never felt any guy before. Maybe that was her own body throbbing. Jamie prodded again, still feeling her out.

“You like that?” he asked. It always struck him as painfully awkward to talk in bed but he really wanted to know.

“God yes,” she said, half-laughing.

“Good.” He moved harder, more surely, and planted his cock deep. Her body took it once, then again. The squeeze was glorious.

Marissa lifted one knee, Jamie helped by pulling the other up and guiding them into a deep bend. It changed the angle and he cursed to feel a whole new depth inside her. He forced himself to slow. It was too much, at this rate he’d come before she did and die next to her unsatisfied body. He had to find another way. Letting her legs relax at the level of his waist, on the next stroke Jamie grabbed her waist and rolled her on top.

Marissa wasn’t ready. She was barely a smear of herself on his bedspread, wondering how many times she could orgasm before he did, when Jamie easily flipped them. She came down on his cock, guided firmly by his hands digging into her hips, and he bottomed out inside her.

She moaned. Like the kind of whore who barely makes it from a first date’s truck to his bed, Marissa made a noise that was pure pleasure. As a reflex she moved again, shifting her hips forward, swiveling them back as she took him in. Jamie’s eyes fluttered closed.

“”You like that?” she teased.

Jamie thanked his many in-season workouts for the fact he had pecs as Marissa put her hands to his chest and used it like a saddle. With something to push against she rode him deep, using just her hips and the tension in her arms. Those perfect breasts bounced, her hair falling forward, but Jamie was mesmerized the way she bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from screaming. If she had something to say, he wanted to hear it. With a sudden thrust, he lifted his hips at the same moment he clamped hers down, raising her off the bed.

“Fuck,” she said, nearly tumbling into his arms. Jamie pulled her the rest of the way, rolling back on top of her. This time he landed on her like she’d landed on him: all the way in.

There was something about a guy who could manhandle her, but Marissa had an even bigger weakness for a guy that could put her on her back, old-fashioned style, and just give her what she needed. She had known few of those guys. So far Jamie was making a bid to be the best. She sobbed out a breath as he pounded home and her whole body flinched.

Jamie felt it; he froze.

“Do that again,” she panted.

He did. And again. And again and again, gritting his teeth against the cascade of energy pooling in his cock, while Marissa’s body gave a little more every time. Tighter, tighter, then a flutter, then tighter still. She dug her nails into his shoulders. He kissed her, rough and breathless.

She came in waves: first clamping down on him, then locking again. Jamie forced his way through until she broke, her orgasm skipping along his shaft like a rock on a lake. The sudden change in resistance bottomed Jamie out one more time and he came, hot and heavy as a flash flood, with a sharp, feral cry.

Before she could think about what had just happened, Jamie kissed her. He gathered their tangled pieces into his arms, hair tossed everywhere and skin sticking together, and held her tightly to a kiss as his spent cock softened inside her. She felt every pulse of blood from their hearts to their laps, beating hard.

They lay for a while, each quietly ignoring the voices in their heads. Jamie’s stomach growled.

“We didn’t make it to dinner,” he said by way of apology.

“You didn’t even make it to the bar,” she reminded him.

Jamie lifted his head, brown hair flopping forward. Marissa brushed it back. His dark eyes swam with satisfaction, almost as much for what they’d just shared as for the fact she was still there.

“Sandwich?”

He wasn’t sure if he should let her out of his bed, and certainly not out of his bedroom, not when he saw what she looked like tossed naked and plundered across the mattress. Marissa wasn’t shy in appreciating the view of him climbing to his feet, looking for shorts. He went for his boxers, she worked her soaked panties back up between her legs. Having ignored the tour of the condo, she could only guess there were windows somewhere and so she shrugged his discarded t-shirt over her head.

Jamie caught her waist before the shirt came down that far. If he could manage to look at her as well as lay with her, he might die. One thing at a time was all he could handle. Now he held the shirt up and admired the flare of her hips, shape of her ass. Hungry could wait - he wanted those panties off again. She giggled and swatted at him.

“I’m hungry too.”

Bread. Turkey. Tomatoes, mayo, lettuce. Jamie lined them up on the counter. Marissa made a face and opened the fridge back up, found a block of cheddar and a stick of butter, and turned to the stove. Jamie did not help. She pertly bent over, half-covered ass in the air, to find a frying pan.

“Perv,” she said without looking.

He swatted her playfully.

Marissa made grilled cheeses while Jamie sliced tomatoes as thinly as his huge hands could manage. Watching her flip and press with that spatula gave him dangerous ideas about dating her, marrying her or at least hiring her. That must be why Seguin never brought girls to his place. It was easier to leave than wait to be left. Jamie sensed he would not have that problem so Marissa could stay forever.

He watched her mostly, touching only occasionally, thought he responded every time she reached for him. She thought it funny to be shy with a girl who just came, moaning loudly, in your arms. But maybe half-naked dinnertime wasn’t for the faint of heart. Still, one bite of grilled cheese sandwich and half-naked Jamie Benn looked to be in heaven. She couldn’t help running a hand down his chest, knuckles tracing the outline of his abs. He looked at her looking at him, until she lifted her eyes.

Jamie turned her gently, lining her hips up with the counter. He drew her hair to one side and kissed her bare shoulder. An inch higher he kissed again. His hands were firmly planted on either side, boxing her in. Sandwich forgotten, he kissed every inch of skin up to her ear. With each inch, his cock thickened against her backside. Marissa tilted her head to give him more room. Only then did he move his hands to her ass, taking those gray panties with him. Now it was her turn to hold onto the counter.

His hand roamed past her hip, fingers slipping into the space between her legs. Sore from their first round, Marissa gasped as Jamie grazed her little pearl. He stroked gently, appreciating the way it made her shift back against his hard-on. Then he moved on. She was still wet, still marked as his in a way that turned Jamie on like nothing else. He stroked her folds before pushing one thick finger inside. Marissa made a sound. Jamie pushed a second finger in and she made it louder.

“You like that?” he asked again. He’d need a new line soon.

“Yes,” she said honestly. Her body had not yet come down from the first time; she felt like a kite at the end of its rope, flapping tautly in the breeze. A stiff wind could snap her off. Jamie’s breath was hot on her neck as he worked his fingers.

Marissa was too short for a guy Jamie’s size to take standing up. If there were a next time, he’d ask her to wear heels and keep them on. For now he pulled out of her body.

She could read his mind. Marissa grabbed a chair and spun its back to the table. She hooked the waistband of his shorts and maneuvered them down to his huge thighs. He sat. She straddled his lap but didn’t sit. Instead she tilted his face up for a kiss, and delivered it while putting herself down onto his cock.

Marissa braced her feet against the strut between the chair legs and started to move. It was higher than the floor, giving her leverage above Jamie’s long legs. She lifted and lowered slowly at first. It felt incredible to sit atop him, like she was driving a perfectly engineered piece of machinery.

His hands were everywhere: Jamie toyed with her breasts, stroked her thighs, marveled at how easily his hands spanned her waist. He lifted and she doubled her effort. They came together again again, her short moans urging Jamie to go harder, faster. The chair creaked as he pulled her roughly onto his dick.

They both froze. It didn’t break, but that was enough for Jamie. He stood, wrapping Marissa’s legs around his waist, and carried her two steps to the counter. The mostly-full dinner plates were shoved into a pile and one fell to the ground with a crash. They hardly heard it. Her ass hit the counter as Jamie was ramping up again.

“Oh God,” she whimpered. Teetering at the edge of the counter, Marissa’s weight titled toward Jamie. Those huge legs pistoned up, driving him home on every stroke. His strong arms made sure she couldn’t move. Marissa clung to his shoulders.

This was a whole different dream for Jamie. He wanted to do this - fuck a hot girl in his kitchen with every light on, take control and then lose it, give that control away to her. But not just any girl. Jamie wanted this girl and that meant she had to want it too. He was ringing his own bell like a strongman at the fair, hitting it hard every time. In his arms, Marissa’s eyelashes fluttered. She must be close. Jamie loosened his grip and leaned her back. Looking down he could see her cock disappear into her body, their skin gleaming, the ultimate point of view. He put a hand against her stomach so his thumb found her clit.

Marissa twitched so hard she’d have fallen off the counter if he wasn’t still holding on. Her big, pretty eyes locked on his and he stared right into them as he did it again. Her pussy clenched.

“Fuck, yes,” Jamie said hoarsely. That happened last time before she came, ripping his own orgasm out with it. His thumb slipped around, finding traction, tweaking her again.

Marissa could not close her eyes. The sight of Jamie, the idea of a guy who’d probably never fucked a girl on his kitchen counter before doing that with her - for her - was enough to send her over the edge. Now his touch threatened to throw her over. He doubled his effort, both at plowing through her body and getting her off. He leaned in, panting in her ear.

“Come for me.”

“I am,” she promised.

His eyes were black with lust up close. “Harder.”

“Jamie,” was all she could say.

It didn’t take long, but to him it felt eternal. He would want to lose himself inside this girl all the time. He’d chase that high. Waiting for her to hit the mark made it delicious torture, drawing out their play before rewarding them with pleasure. Her pussy started to quiver and he knew she was so close. He pressed harder and drove deeper until her body flashed tight, toes curling and breath stopping. Then she fell apart in his arms.

“Baby,” he said, doing the only thing he could think of. Jamie wound his arms around her waist, lifted her off the counter and held her, with nothing but his own strength, as his own orgasm exploded. Stars popped in his vision. He pumped load after load of desire into Marissa as she went weak in his arms.

When he could move, Jamie stepped back to the chair and sat down, Marissa’s legs still around his waist. They stay that way, fitted together with her head on his shoulder, until someone felt strong enough to speak.

“Still hungry?” he asked. She laughed.

Jamie loved the feel of her body moving against his. He said, “Let’s order in. I don’t think this chair can go another round of you cooking in your underwear.”

She gingerly climbed from his lap and stood naked in his kitchen. Jamie really did love that sight.

“Call now, meet me in the shower.” Then over her shoulder, Marissa said, “Maybe tape some money to the door. I can’t promise this,” she patted the counter, “won’t happen again.”
____

Notes