Catch My Fall (42 page)

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.

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 weren’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.