I whined.
He smiled. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t understand you.”
He smiled. “Is that bad?”
I gasped as his fingers moved faster. “No -”
He threatened again, slipping his fingers low and then back to their same rhythm. I growled, softly.
“I know what’s wrong. You want to understand the nasty shit I’m saying to you, don’t you?”
I blushed, covering my face, and he started to kiss down the length of my torso, his intentions clear. I pulled at him, trying to keep him at eye level. He let me, kissing me before tugging me to the edge of the bed. He could move me like some weightless thing. He would do what he wanted, but I was too timid to let him without protest.
He smiled up at me. “You trying to fight me?”
I whined again. “Yes.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
My brow furrowed in fear as I bit my lip. “Yes?”
He leaned against me, pushing me back onto the bed and taking one of my breasts in his mouth. He tried to move lower again, kissing my stomach, but I pulled at him.
He chuckled. “Ok then.”
With those words he slid his fingers inside me and began moving them with such speed and purpose that I screamed. My screaming seemed to only urge him on faster and harder. My legs buckled against the sensation, and my body curled into itself. I reached down to grab hold of his wrist, to slow him, but it was useless. He continued to drive his fingers into me as I screamed “Please!”
He growled, watching me writhe. “Please what? You gonna be a good girl?”
I gasped to hear such words come from his lips. “Yes!”
“Alright then.” He pulled his fingers from inside me and slapped my ass. “Get up on that bed then.”
I took a breath and crawled up to the pillows as he stood up, looming over me at full height. The sight of him inspired a new mischief, and I quickly settled on my knees, reaching for him. He leaned into my touch, watching as I took hold of him with both hands, and began stroking him. He ran his hand over my hair and my ear, smiling down at me. I languished in the way he felt, his cock hard and smooth in my hands. I leaned in and ran the smooth skin of him against my lips.
He shuddered, violently.
I let one hand cup under him, cradling him as I took him in my mouth. His head fell back. Watching his eyes close like that excited me, and I grabbed his hands, pulling him down onto the bed. He tried to climb on me, but I wouldn’t let him, making him lie on the bed beside me as I propped myself over him, kissing his mouth, his chest, flitting my tongue over his perfect nipples, his stomach, and soon the ridge at his hip. I shifted myself down to kiss his thighs and run my tongue up the inner side. He shivered as I slid my tongue over the sensitive skin of his balls, and I let my open mouth trail up the length of him, breathing in as I moved. His flesh jumped in response.
Hearing his breath catch, his soft groans, made me feel powerful, excited. I wanted to make him whimper. I took him as fully as I could in one movement, sucking deeply. He buckled under me, his hand taking grip in my hair. He sighed and muttered to me in Swedish as I moved my mouth up and down, sucking and flitting my tongue at him. He reached down to feel my breasts, a sensation I loved. He succumbed to the sighs my mouth caused him. He whispered again in Swedish, and I stopped just long enough to speak.
“English. I want to hear you.”
“Yeah? You want to hear how good your mouth feels on my cock?”
I growled at him and returned to work. He reached over and smacked my ass, hard. The sound of words like that coming from him, in that tone, that sexy tone he sometimes used to talk to pizza or to make me uncomfortable, now made me quiver and melt. I sucked deeper in response. He chuckled and growled wickedly.
I shifted again on the bed, settling on my knees so he could watch me. He groaned, his hips moving with my mouth. He brushed my hair away from my face and slapped my ass again.
I looked up to find him watching me and smiled.
He glared at me, and before I could laugh or ask ‘what?’ he sat up, hooked his arm around my thigh and yanked my lower half toward him. I cried out in surprise and protest, but he dragged me up over his shoulders and centered me there over his face, helpless. I tried to pull from him, but he simply locked his arms around my hips and pressed his open mouth against me.
I screamed so loud, I’m sure Mr. Hodges heard me.
Stellan’s mouth was searing hot against me, and his tongue was hard and quick. He pressed firmly, letting his tongue slip from side to side. I wriggled to pull free, unable to simply let him please me. God it felt so good. I couldn’t focus on anything, but the sensation. He responded to my fight with a hard smack of my ass. If he expected me to continue my work on him, he chose a poor approach. He pressed his mouth against me and began sucking at me, turning his head from side to side.
That was it, I started moving on him, pressing my hands onto his stomach as I rode his mouth. He groaned in appreciation.
I let my hands work on him as best I could, but I was useless. Dear god, he’s good at everything he does. He pulled me down onto him, building the pressure of his tongue and his mouth, and I was a constant stream of moans and choice obscenities. I think I called him a motherfucker a couple times, but all in affection.
I finally pulled from him, too determined to be stopped, and I shifted on the bed. I was ready, I needed him. I grabbed at him, pulling him toward me, and he obliged, rising over me to kneel between my splayed legs. He ran his fingers across his lips and then over the head of his perfection before leaning over me and directing himself. I held my breath, and he pressed himself against me. He slid inside me, groaning as my body yielded to him. I felt a twinge of pain as he pushed deep, moving my legs so I could take him. I couldn’t barely breath as I waited for him to push all the way inside.
With a shift of his weight, he began thrusting into me, holding himself above me as he moved. I watched every inch of his body – his shoulders, his forearms, the contours of his hips, his thighs, the dark tuft of hair at his groin. He blew air out through his pursed lips and sped up. I was a whimpering, gasping mess. After a moment of finding our rhythm, he spoke.
“You like that?”
It’s amazing what a simple question in the right tone can do. I gasped. “Yes!”
“Yeah? You want it faster?” He lowered himself onto his elbows and began to plow me into the mattress, the bed shifting and creaking with every thrust. I lifted my legs high behind his back, and grabbed his ass, pulling him into me. He let his weight press into me and kept his rhythm – oh god, he was going to succeed, and quick.
He groaned. “Holy fuck, Älskling, you feel so fucking good.”
My body began to tense. “I love it when you talk to me.”
“Mmm, I noticed.”
I gasped. “Keep talking.”
He laughed. “You like that?”
“Oh my fuck.” I pressed both hands to his ass and pulled him, the warmth of friction getting stronger. I pressed my cheek to his shoulder.
“You going to come for me?”
“Oh my god, don’t stop!”
“Yeah? You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”
I tried to form words, but I was losing the skill. “Yes! Please!”
His movements grew bigger, the bed shaking louder and louder beneath us. “Yeah?”
“Please don’t stop!”
“You like that cock pounding your pus -”
“Oh my fuck! Don’t stop!”
He moved his hands under my head and shifted me. “Look at me.”
I tried to turn away, to hide my face. “No!”
Despite the labor in his breathing, his tone was both stern and pleading. “Look at me, Faye.”
I turned my eyes to his, warm and blue. I felt exposed, seen in a moment when I’d never wanted to be seen before. Yet in this moment, the blind reality of what
was happening hit me fully. Stellan was making love to me. My massive, Swedish confidante was above me, inside me, watching my every gesture. I fought the urge to look away, but before I could lose the battle, he kissed me.
“Come for me, Faye.”
I closed my eyes. “Oh god.”
His voice trailed to a whisper. “Come for me.”
I let my whole body tense, my mouth fall open, and my fingers clutch at his shoulders. No matter how tightly I pulled, his movements kept rhythm. I held my breath as he continued to whisper, “Come. Come for me, Älskling.”
I did. I quivered against him and under him. I exhaled in a desperate wail that trailed and peaked with each thrust of his hips. His movements drove deeper, more intense, and his breathing grew sharper until he grunted and pulled from inside me, kneeling on the mattress, holding himself.
I sat up swiftly, grabbed him in my hands, and took him in my mouth before he could protest. He whimpered as I sucked at him, finishing him in my mouth. A moment later, he whimpered again with the sensitivity of my touch.
I released him, feeling the taste of him, light on my tongue.
He sighed, and called me amazing.
I slumped back onto the bed and pulled him onto me as we caught our breath. I felt his chest rise and fall in my arms, the pressure of his body on me. He felt warm, safe. He kissed my collar bone, my ear, letting soft, satisfied groans escape every few breaths.
I ran my hands up over his shoulders and back, clutching him, feeling his smooth skin and wanting to literally absorb him. I couldn’t pull him close enough to me to be sated. My Stellan was here with me, holding me, looking at me in a way I never thought someone could.
Suddenly, my breath shortened, and my throat grew tight. I covered my face in my hand as I realized what was happening. I turned my head away, but there was no hiding this. He would know.
“Stell?”
He shifted, but I fought to hold him against me. “Yes, love?”
“How weird would it be if I cried right now?”
And with the last word, my chin quivered and tears welled in my eyes. He squeezed me tight and whispered into my ear. “Oh, F-Bomb.”
I shook there against him, clutching him and letting tears pour down onto his arm as he held me. There wasn’t an ounce of sadness in my heart at that moment, yet still they came.
I couldn’t explain it, but they felt like release – like divine release.
Stellan held me until I stopped, cooing to me softly.
Finally we separated, and he stood up, his skin damp and warm. I watched him putting on his jeans and listened to him head downstairs to make coffee. I remained there in my bed, my hair still wet from the shower, my skin still damp, now coupled by our sweat. My sex throbbed from my orgasm, my body bared to the open air. I had no desire to cover up.
I listened to the birds outside the window, the coffee grinder whirring away in the kitchen below. I wiped my eyes and forced myself out of bed.
I reached the kitchen hallway and watched him. Stellan stood at the sink, his bare back to me, silhouetted by the light of the kitchen windows. He filled the coffee pot with water, his head bowed as he leaned his weight against the counter. I felt his distance like shackles at that moment, despite his only being a couple yards away.
He shut off the faucet and turned, smiling when he spotted me.
The words came as though someone pulled them from my throat.
“I love you,” I said.
I held my breath.
He smirked, set the coffee pot on the counter and crossed the kitchen toward me. He leaned down, locked his arms around me and lifted me again. “You better.”
Stellan then walked me down the hallway and back upstairs.
CHAPTER Twenty-one
For the next couple weeks, Stellan and I discovered we were dirty fucking perverts.
Seriously.
We spent every free moment at my house while my mother was out, then nights in his basement apartment where we were two floors from his parents. We shagged multiple times a day, in every position, on every surface. No room, nor space was sacred. If he ran his hands over my ass while I stood at my fridge, I’d have my hand down his pants before he could exhale. If I snuck up behind him and put my arms around his chest, his tongue would be in my mouth before a word could form.
I texted while he was working, informing him of the debauchery he could expect when he was done, and I’m not afraid to admit it – Stellan definitely had a twat shot on his phone.
I’m not afraid to admit I had a couple cock shots on mine, too.
We fucked like porn stars; I called him Daddy, he called me his dirty little slut. He smacked my ass, I slapped his face and demanded he chase me down and force himself on me, or bang me like an episode of wild kingdom, with him crouched over me, his legs burning from the effort. He was equipped for some of the marathon sessions we engaged in. I was not so in shape, and after long stints of bouncing up and down on his couch, I would wobble and fall when I tried to get up, my legs exhausted.
Two weeks in, I’d lost seven pounds. When we did find the need for food, we made out in the produce aisle of Crosby’s, or I gave him a blow job in his jeep outside the Chinese restaurant.
He was a spoiled guy, it’s true. He spoiled me right back.
Save for programming work, or Ninjitsu classes, Stellan and I spent almost no time apart, and had no intentions of starting to. Stellan brought up my going back to work once or twice in those hours. I was silently counting the days.
A few days before Christmas we spent the night at my house. I woke to him hooking his fingers at my hip to pull me against him, his breath against my shoulder, his body and his erection pressed against me. We didn’t really need words by then. I laughed on the mornings when he woke me by climbing on me and saying, “Sorry honey, this will only take a minute,” or “brace yourself.” Some mornings, I woke him with my mouth, just to hear the happy startled sounds he made.
I listened to the familiar sound of my mother collecting her keys and heading out the door downstairs. We were safe for the day. Stellan reached down between my legs and whispered in my ear. I opened to him – we were long past timidity now. I was wet from the night before, and he groaned when he touched me. I rolled onto my back to receive him, but he didn’t move. Instead he grabbed my hands and pulled me onto him.
I dutifully got into position, grumbling. “Damn it, I can’t get off in this position.”
He stared at me with feigned shock. “What? Challenge accepted.”
I laughed. “You’ll be disappointed, handsome.”
He shot me an evil grin. “Not possible.”
I loved any position, really, but I grumbled, disappointed I wouldn’t get to enjoy lazy-lie-on-my-back-and-grab-his-ass sex.
I suppose it was his turn.
He shifted under me, licking his fingers before running them over his erection. I centered myself and slowly lowered down onto him, gasping at the initial soreness of weeks of sex.
He groaned and hummed as he watched me.
I started moving on him, using the full range of motion in my legs. He held my hips, lifting me in rhythm as I moved. I pressed my hands on his chest for leverage.
He pulled my hands upward. “Come down here. I want those ‘tiddays’ bouncing in my face.”
I giggled and grabbed him by the head, firmly planting my tits onto his face, smothering him. He growled and laughed, kissing every spot he could get to before I released him.
“You’re such a dirty old man.”
He chuckled. “Hey, I’m only a year older than you, young lady. And who fucking wouldn’t be with this sex goddess bouncing on their cock?”
I laughed again and bounced harder. I was nowhere close to having an orgasm. He felt good, amazing really, but it was amazing in an arousing and enjoyable way, not a body convulsing, muscle spasm kind of way. I could do this a while and be moaning and shrieking the whole
time, but I wouldn’t have an orgasm.
Oddly enough, I didn’t mind. I loved the act itself with him – the orgasm wasn’t as important as simply feeling him close. And being on top was powerful, I could call him names and watch him sigh and remain in control of myself - mostly - at least until my legs gave out.
Let’s be real, it wouldn’t be long. Even with weeks of sex, I was still out of shape.
“God, I love watching you,” he said.
I ran my hand over his face, covering his eyes for a moment. “Don’t say that, you’ll make me all shy.”
He groaned and thrust himself up into me. I gasped.
“Don’t you dare get shy. I want you in all your fuck slut glory.”
“Did you just call me a fuck slut?”
He thrust up into me again, and I cried out.
He made his point with a hard smack on my backside. “I did. What are you going to do about it?”
I stopped moving for a moment and leaned as though I would get off of him. He grabbed me around the waist and held me there. “Where do you think you’re going?”
He sat up enough to kiss me, his tongue piercing my mouth, wetting my lips. I squirmed on him, and he growled at me. Then, he dropped back onto the bed and locked his wrists behind my lower back.
“Alright, enough fuckin around. You say you can’t get off like this? Let’s put that to the test, shall we?”
I smiled, but quickly realized the seriousness of his pursuit. He shifted under me, planting his feet into the mattress, the pressure of his hands on my back forcing me down against his chest. I held myself up to watch his face, but a moment later, there was no seeing anything.
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