He pinned me against him and thrust up into me with purpose. I shrieked and grabbed the pillow under his head. He was moving so fast and forcefully that if he wasn’t holding on, I’d have been bucked off.
He spoke low, but forcefully. “Does Daddy’s little slut like getting fucked hard?”
I’m sorry, I don’t care if your sensibilities are compromised here, but I fucking love it when he talks like that. My words wobbled and undulated with his rhythm as I drew out each word “Oh my god!”
“Yeah?”
And I did. The friction of his body against mine, his cock hitting all the right places – it felt amazing. My muscles tightened around him, and I whined as the sensation grew more intense. “Holy shit, don’t stop!”
“Oh, I’m not gonna stop!”
“Please, fuck! Oh god, Stell! Do it! Do it!”
His words were getting labored with the exertion. He was annihilating me. “Yeah, I knew you’d fucking love this?”
“Oh god! Fuck me!”
He obliged, almost lifting me off the bed with every few thrusts. The bed shook beneath us, the headboard tapping against the wall in rhythm. I clutched him, my face in the crook of his neck and my hands locked onto his shoulders. He squeezed me tighter and growled loudly, a sign of his effort to keep pace and keep from losing it. I curled into him, my middle tight, and my legs squeezing around him.
He whispered into my ear with approval. “That’s my good girl.”
I came in waves, shuddering there against him as he moved, melting onto him like warm syrup. He kept moving, a rule we had after the one time he slowed in the middle of my orgasm.
Never stop until I say so!
I sighed and shook there, my legs exhausted despite having seemingly done so little. He slowed his movements finally.
I kissed him before smiling down at him. “Want to bend me over now?”
His eyes went wide, and he was up and pulling my backside to the edge of the bed before I could respond. He took me from behind while I yelled porn worthy obscenities at him about his sexual prowess. He drove deeper in this position, and I couldn’t help but cry out as he moved in me. When he was ready, I turned on the bed and took him in my mouth, finishing him there. He whimpered, a sound I loved to hear him make, and held his fingers tight in my hair. I slowed my movements before his sensitivity got to be too much, and swallowed everything he gave me.
When I rose to my knees, my legs were completely useless. He caught me and held me against him, leaning down to kiss me. I teased him with light touches to his now overly sensitive sex.
“You spoil me, Älskling.”
I smiled against his lips. “You love it.”
I grabbed his bare bum and squeezed before dropping back onto the bed. He stood there before me, naked and beautiful, and I told him so.
He responded by planting his hands on his hips and doing his best Superman pose. I laughed as he got dressed.
“You want some tea, beautiful?”
I pursed my lips and considered. “Yes. I’d love some.”
I lied there quiet, my body sore in all the right places from weeks of soul satisfying love making with a man who seemed to have been sexually made for me - a man whom I loved with fearless abandon.
I heard the soft pat of footsteps coming back up the stairs. I was surprised by the speed of their return. He snuck in, closed the door behind him and stood there staring at the floor. He looked troubled, hovering shirtless and silent – beautiful, but troubled. He finally shot me a glance, then turned his eyes back to the floor and reached down to grab his shirt.
“What is it, baby?” I asked, finally.
He took a deep breath. “Pam’s downstairs.”
And I died inside.
Stellan pulled his shirt on and slumped down onto the edge of the bed, pinning me under the blankets. He rubbed the back of his head and his neck. I scratched his back, trying to soothe him while fighting a violent cringe that was pulsating in my chest.
“What did she say?”
He shook his head. “’Good morning?’ Fuck. Your mom is never going to look at me the same, again.”
I shut my eyes. I was thinking the same thing. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but I made Stellan get up and let me toss on some clothes. We forced a smile at one another, before venturing downstairs. Mom was milling around the kitchen, a large collection of canvas bags filled with art books by the door.
“Hey Mom.”
She smiled at me as I rounded the refrigerator. “Good morning!”
Jesus, if that’s how she said it to Stellan, no wonder he was upset. The tone was shrill it was so pleasant.
Yeah, she’d definitely heard us.
“Whatcha up to?”
I tried to make it sound as nonchalant as possible – not “What the hell are you doing home?” or “Get the hell out”-y.
“Oh, I promised Kelly I’d bring these in for her. Some fund raising thing they’re doing at the school. Didn’t realize how much I still had, as you can tell.”
She stooped to grab one of the satchels and Stellan stepped in, scooping up two per forearm and chivalrously hauling them out the back door to her car. If he thought I wouldn’t spot the desertion for exactly what it was, he wasn’t the genius I thought him to be.
I stood in the kitchen with my mother.
“I’m hoping they go to good use. There’s some really great stuff in there.”
I buried my hands in my jeans pockets and leaned against the fridge. “You ok parting with them?”
She nodded. “Yes. I never actually look at them. If I had some palatial estate with a library, I might keep them, but as it is, they’re just taking up space in my closet. I say let them take up space where someone might read them.”
I fought with the idea. Should I apologize? Acknowledge what she heard, that I’d had loud, porn worthy sex in my childhood bedroom with her just a floor away? Her tone and her busy movements made me question whether she wanted such an apology. Still, this was her house.
Stellan slipped inside to grab the last two bags and was gone again.
Mom smiled. “He’s a wonderful man, Faye.”
I glanced up at her. She was standing at the kitchen sink, watching out the windows. A moment later, she waved to him and turned to collect her keys.
I couldn’t stay silent. “Mom – I’m wicked sorry.”
She looked at me and shook her head. “You deserve a wonderful man, honey. You always did. I’ll get out of your hair now.”
She crossed the kitchen to give me a quick peck on the cheek, then turned and left. I stood dumbfounded and a little ashamed. When Stellan came back inside, he closed the kitchen door and waited for me to speak.
“Dick.”
He grinned. “What? Those were heavy bags, woman!”
“You’re not getting another blow job for the rest of the day.”
He came at me, grabbing me around the waist, whining. “Don’t say that!”
I smiled. “Nope, you’re cut off. And you promised me tea.”
His hands slipped down my backside, and his tone shifted as he moved me down the hallway. “Well, now that you mentioned blow jobs, I’m all excited over here.”
“You’re not getting one! Damn it, I’m humiliated, can’t you think of anything else?”
He smiled and nuzzled the crook of my neck, kissing me. “Nope!”
I didn’t fight him, and he knew I wouldn’t. We practically didn’t make it upstairs.
My mother was the first to know about Stellan and I. His parents might have suspected, given how much time we were spending together, but they were accustomed to him being incognito in the basement, so whether they were even aware of my presence, I wasn’t sure. Meghan was completely oblivious to anything, save for the fact that Cole and I were no longer, and that I’d acquired a sudden inability to respond to a text or phone call in a reasonable amount of time.
We we
ren’t trying to keep anything secret, we simply didn’t talk to anyone. I thought the oblivion would remain universal until I received an early morning text from Evan. He was concerned that Stellan had disappeared off the face of the earth.
Have you heard from him? I’m close to flying into town to track the homo down.
I turned to Stellan in bed and showed him the text. He grumbled, grabbed his phone and responded to whatever message waited.
Evan texted me two minutes later.
Smug Bastard - I fucking knew it!! God, I’m good!! Thanks, sexy. You may commence with your flagrant shaggery.
“That dick!”
Stellan chuckled.
Jackie already knew. She texted to ask how I was, and I didn’t respond for three days. Given how I’d looked after the Christmas party, she followed up, worried.
I finally texted back. Sorry, I’ve been with Stellan.
Smug Bastardess - Is that so?
Nymphomaniac Me - Yes.
Does that mean…?
Shrilly Excited Nymphomaniac Me - Yes.
I threw in a smiley face - or seven. She responded in kind. I knew that unlike Meghan, this would be enough for now. We would talk when I was ready. We would talk when time allowed.
The official ‘coming out,’ was at Christmas. We slept at my house and had breakfast and presents with my mother before walking over to the Ødegård manor.
Lennart was already in his chair when we arrived, and he hopped up to greet us. Linda rushed out from the kitchen as well. I was hugged and kissed by both before being led into the front room and offered Lennart’s chair. I refused of course and sat by the windows. They’d clearly been told.
Lennart spoke loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. “I can’t imagine you’re hungry yet, so Linda says we have to do presents first.”
Linda told him to quit whining, and Stellan hollered something in Swedish.
I smiled and tried to apologize, but Lennart simply smiled before yelling back, also in Swedish. I was used to this, but today it almost made me nervous. Suddenly, I wanted to make a good impression. Suddenly, I needed to be on my best behavior. I wasn’t Stellan’s goofball friend anymore, I was his girlfriend.
Wow. Even just saying that feels earth shattering.
I nestled in with Lennart and let him regale me with tales, many of which I’d already heard once or twice. Linda came in carrying a tray of Pâté, cheese and crackers, which Lennart quickly jumped on. Lennart spoke between – or perhaps in the midst of – crunchy bites. He explained the finer workings of the recent stock market behavior, and seemed to be in a good mood. I took this to mean his investments were doing well. Still, investments was all he was doing since retirement, and he said the futility of retired life was setting in.
I looked up just in time to see Stellan follow his mother into the room with mulled wine and a few glasses. He was wearing a tall pointy red hat and a fake white beard. Linda turned and feigned surprise. “Tomte! Tomte’s here!”
Stellan flashed me a smile as he settled on the floor beside the tree.
I’d asked Stellan about the immortal Tomte when we were younger, and I’d spotted a little bearded figuring on their mantel in the weeks before Christmas. Apparently, Tomte was the slightly unkempt, tiny gnome like Swedish version of a Santa Claus who may or may not kill your livestock if he thinks you’re rude.
I told him Sweden was so fucking metal.
This was the first time I’d witness the great Tomte tradition in person. It was endearing as all hell.
I leaned close enough so he and only he could hear me. “I’d still bang you.”
His eyes betrayed a smile hidden under his nonsensical beard. “Good to know, I’ll bring the beard to bed later.”
I returned to Lennart, and Stellan rubbed his knuckles against my ankle as he spoke to his mother.
Presents were passed out, many of them between Lennart and Linda. Stellan gave his mother a set of Creuset cookware, and I practically drooled. It was purple for Christ’s sake! He gave Lennart a few new tools for their joint workshop and then a couple little items here and there. Lennart and Linda jointly gave me a beautiful little vase, a set of pens that Stellan had clearly advised on (they were my favorite), and then as the rest of the presents were all passed out, Stellan pushed me a large wrapped shape from behind the tree.
I lifted it up into my lap as the room grew quiet, and I shrank to half my size. I tore at the paper as gently as I could, pulling it back to see worn wood finish underneath. I lifted the wooden box out of the paper and let the wrapping fall to Stellan before setting the box in my lap. It was old, the top slanted toward me with a hinged cover, and the corners were worn lighter than the rest of the stain. I lifted the top of the box to find a small sketchpad inside. I looked up at the faces of the room, searching for the source of the gift, the person whose inspiration could be blamed.
Linda leaned in. “I know you’re an artist, so a writer’s box might not be quite appropriate, but I thought you might be able to use it for your sketching too?”
I nodded. I could. I certainly could, and I had no words. I ran my hand over the top of the box, feeling the nicks and knots along its edges. I felt Stellan’s hand run up my calf and squeeze as I put my hand to my mouth.
Linda hopped up and coaxed me to turn the box over. I did.
“Here, Lennart thought this was the best part.”
I saw it. In perfect penmanship, a name was carved into the bottom of the box. Some other soul had loved this box enough to mark it as hers. “Providence Merle Fields – 1862”
My mouth fell open. I did my best to hide the emotion, keeping my head down as I inspected the name, traced my fingers over this ancient thing.
Maintain your cool, damn it.
Despite my best efforts, my eyes welled too quickly and a tear fell onto the wood. Before I could wipe it away, Stellan kissed my knee.
I couldn’t quite explain why it moved me so much – the fact that Lennart had been involved in the choosing of a gift for me? The fact that Stellan’s family had enveloped me with such warmth, finding such a thoughtful gift in the mere two and a half weeks since their son and myself had become a couple?
I’d never had a Christmas outside my mother’s home, and that was simple enough since Grammy Jensen died. My mother was a lot of things, but a rabid Christian observer of the holy day of Christ’s birth? Not so much.
Linda reached over and patted the back of my hand.
For future reference, when someone is clearly trying to keep their shit together, don’t make it harder by being all loving, damn it.
I swallowed hard and whispered. “Thank you so much.”
We ate dinner early; a smorgasbord. No really, an actual smorgasbord. Dessert was a sweet porridge that Linda assured me was a Swedish tradition. She passed out the bowls as Lennart grumbled about how he’d take one of my apple pies over this any day.
I smiled.
I dug into my bowl of Swedish rice pudding only to discover a hard object in my mouth after the third bite. I pulled it out to look at it.
“Oh oh! Faye found the almond! Everybody, Faye found the almond! Looks like somebody is going to be getting married next year, hmmm?”
The tone was so syrupy that I couldn’t help but laugh. Lennart and Stellan called Linda out, accusing her of having planted the almond in my Risgryngrot. She feigned complete ignorance, winking at me over the table.
Stellan and Lennart assured me that it meant I got a wish, not a marriage proposal.
“Well, what if I wish for a marriage proposal?”
I stared Stellan down with a wicked smile on my face.
He smiled back and raised an eyebrow. “Better wish hard then.”
His mother swatted at him, and he smiled, taking my hand and kissing it.
I held the almond in my hand and made my wish.
We spent the evening with my mother, a good amount of it spent in the l
iving room while she and Stellan conversed. I watched.
There’s a strange pride to watching your partner engage in easy conversation, but all the moreso when it is with your people – your tribe.
I don’t know how else to phrase that.
Your family doesn’t quite cut it – your kindred, perhaps. Seeing the one you choose fit seamlessly into the clan you come from – it validates your choice. After hours of him making my mother smile, I was ready to eat him alive, I was so fond of him.
I brought the writing box upstairs to my room and settled it into an open spot on my bookshelves. Stellan followed me up and snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I went to squeeze his arms into my belly and found a present in his hands.
Thus far that day, he’d given me a few little things; candy, a wind up robot that did backflips, and an iPhone case with Calvin and Hobbes on it. Ownership of the digital sketchpad had been unceremoniously transferred to me a day or two earlier with the words, “Call it a Christmas Present. It’s not like I’m using it.” It was now plugged into my laptop in the office. And above all, that morning he’d given me an original still from the Goofy cartoon, How to Ski. In case I didn’t mention this by now, Walt Disney is my hero. One can imagine I was rather pleased with that gift.
Still, here he was handing me yet another present. Baked goods were the extent of my broke ass gift giving that year – baked goods and blow job coupons - so I felt almost bad to see he’d gotten me something more.
I turned to him and he smiled, waiting for me to take it. I sat on the edge of the bed and opened it.
“I was going to save it for when you start your job -”
It was an iPad. I shook my head as I opened the box and found it already charged and in a purple case. He sat beside me, and I turned to him and smiled.
He leaned in, excited to show me the gadget. “Here, look.”
The screen lit up and as Stellan’s fingers danced over the surface, I saw many familiar images peppered into the foreign shapes and squares. “I downloaded you a few comic strip compilations; Far Side and stuff. And I signed you into my Netflix account so you can watch whenever you want to.”
Catch My Fall Page 34
