by CJ Martín
My smile falters. “What?” I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“You said something in Norwegian?” She releases my hand and rolls to her side, waiting for me to answer.
“I did?” I do my best to play it off.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe.” One shoulder lifts. “I don’t even… I was a bit shocked.”
“Yeah.” She nods in agreement but her eyes linger in question.
My heart begins pounding in my chest. Tell her. I love you. I love you so fucking much.
She shifts on the bed, breaking the moment. “I should go clean up.” She gives me a meaningful look. “I’m a little messy.”
My eyes drift over body deliberately, lingering between her legs. I see my mark on her, what I gave to her, and a surge of possessiveness strikes deep. “Yeah you are.” My grin is cocky.
“God, you’re such a guy.”
I nip her breast as she sits up. “Are you complaining?”
“No.” She sighs as she runs her fingers through my hair.
“Promise me you won’t ever do that with anyone else.” I look up at her, my eyes piercing hers.
“Okay.”
“Promise me.” I squeeze her hip. I couldn’t imagine sharing this with anyone else. She is mine. Forever.
“Promise,” she whispers, and I squeeze her hip again. “You too.”
“Never.” My response is immediate. “But I can’t promise that I’ll ever want to wear a condom again. That was amazing. You felt amazing.”
“It was, right?” She smiles at me in disbelief. “I thought sex with you couldn’t get better. God, it’s like you're great at everything. What’s next? Should I expect moonlit serenades?”
I shrug and dip my head.
“You would too. I bet you’re a fantastic singer.” She rolls her eyes. “So annoying. I don't know how I put up with you.” She swats my arm and giggles.
I chuckle as I stand up and reach for her. Before she can protest, I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder. “Baby, I’m full of surprises.”
She shrieks. “Where we going?”
“Time for me to clean you.” Her eyes glaze over as I walk us into the bathroom. I reach inside the wide, tiled shower stall to turn on the faucets. “Time for me to show you just how much better it can be.”
The sharp, piercing ring wakes me from sleep. Gigs mumbles and rolls away from the noise, taking all the covers with her. I stare at her a moment, cocooned in warmth, face calm and serene, before the ring startles me again. Fuck. What time is it anyway?
“Hello.” My voice is still groggy.
“Anders.” My father’s voice booms through the phone.
I jolt upright, instantly alert. “Dad.”
His voice is short, clipped. “We’re in the Vegas airport now. We have a forty-five minute layover. Should be in Boulder by 10:00 a.m.”
I pull the phone away from my ear to check the time. Seven fifty-five. “Okay.”
“Your mother said you’re picking us up. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.” I resist adding sir. My father commands respect; our relationship hasn’t changed from the time I was five to twenty-four. People do what he says, and I am not an exception.
“Great. See you soon, son.”
“Bye.”
Blowing out a breath, I toss the phone aside and flop back down on the bed. Gigs’s fingers snake over my chest as she inches closer to me.
“Morning.” Her smile is lazy.
I kiss her nose. “Good morning.”
“Who was that?” She opens her arms, stretching the covers wide, inviting me underneath. I nestle inside her arms, resting my head on her breasts. My troubles fall away as her softness cradles my head and neck.
“My dad.” I sigh.
“Oh? Everything okay?”
“Yeah. They’re on their way.”
“On their way where?” She sits up and my head drops to the bed. Come back.
“Here.”
“What?” She jumps up. “They’re on their way here? Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Anders! What the hell?”
“I’m picking them up in”—I glance at the clock—“an hour and a half.”
She stands and slips on a pair of light green panties and matching bra. No, don’t get dressed.
I try to ignore the way her breasts heave with each intake of breath as she paces back and forth in front of the bed.
“Baby, calm down.” Despite my best effort, my eyes remain glued to her tits.
“Calm down? Your parents are coming. Here!” Her hands spread wide as she says the word here, indicating the severity of the situation.
“I know.” I force a grin and stand up. Truthfully, I’m not happy about it either. My parents aren’t the most easygoing people. If Elena thought Brit was off-putting, my parents will downright scare her away. But I hold it together; we both can’t freak out. Plus, I would much rather spend the entire day alone with her. In my bed.
I pause before moving toward her. I drag my eyes to meet hers. She looks nervous. Really nervous. Panicked.
She shakes her head, but continues pacing. I stand in her path, putting my hands out to stop her. “Baby.” My hands find her arms. “Baby, stop.”
“I can’t meet them.”
“Yes, you can.” I assure her.
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head.
I give her a smile. “You can.”
“Are we even ready for this?” Her eyes question mine.
Even though I caught her off guard, even though she is freaked out, even though I kind of agree with her, I still go on the defensive. Her words hit me square in the gut. It’s like I’ve been punched. Christ, I told her I loved her last night. “What are you saying? That you’re not serious about me? About us?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head side to side before letting them drop. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m not thinking clearly.” Before I can respond she speaks again. “What if they don’t like me?” She’s nervous and picks at her nails to avoid my gaze.
They can be difficult. My fingers tip her chin. “They will.”
“But what if—”
“Elena. Stop.”
“I can’t help it!” Her voice rises in exasperation. “Like you wouldn’t be nervous to meet my mom?”
I shrug. I hadn’t really thought about it. “Your mom would love me.”
“You think?” She scoffs. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Yeah, well…” My grin is cocky, meant to impress.
She cracks a small smile, but it dissolves quickly. “What will I wear? I have nothing!”
“My vote goes for what you’re wearing now.” My eyes sweep over her.
She swats at my arm. “So not helping.”
“Baby.” I tug her close. “Please don’t worry.”
Her head rests on my shoulder and she sighs heavily. My hands caress her back in long sweeping strokes and her muscles loosen against me.
“I want them to like me.” Her voice is quiet, muffled by my shoulder.
I pull back, look into her eyes. “They will.”
Her eyes widen before she dips her head. “You think?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” Her voice is a whisper.
“Now…” I smile at her. “Let me help you relax.”
She twists out of my arms and walks toward her overnight bag resting on the desk in front of the windows. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
I walk behind her, following her movement. “No?” My fingers snake around her hips and pull her back against my front. I push my hips forward, letting her feel my erection as I dip my head and place wet, open mouthed kisses on her neck.
“No.” Her breath stutters. “Besides, we don’t have time.”
I pull back and drop to my knees behind her, use my hands to spread her legs wide. “I do some of my
best work under pressure.” My hands push her, belly down, against the cool wooden desk. I chuckle when I hear her suck in a quick breath. Sliding her panties down her legs, I say, just as my mouth finds her, “Hang on.”
Anders’s made good on his promise. I am more relaxed. Multiple orgasms will do that to you, I guess. When he bent me over and licked me from behind, I was forced to focus on him. The soft sweep of his tongue, the rough pinch of his fingers, the sound of his low growls as he sucked me—my body responded without thought. He knew exactly what I needed. When he stood up and plunged inside me, I lay there calm and sated, letting him take me, over and over again. I did exactly what he asked. My hands gripped the edges of the desk and I held on tight.
“Baby, I gotta go soon.” Anders exits the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bed to slip on his loafers. “You sure you don’t want to come?”
“No.” I glance away. “I have to shower.”
“I told you, you could’ve showered with me.”
My eyes meet his. “We both know that wouldn’t have been a good idea. You’re already running late.”
“But oh, so worth it.”
I grin as I shake my head. “Okay one last time.”
“Baby, they speak English.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I know. But I want to at least make the effort. So…”
“All right. You say: Hallo. Jeg heter Elena. Hyggelig å møte deg.”
A grin spreads across my face. I’m ninety-nine percent positive I’ve mastered “Hello, my name is Elena. Nice to meet you” in Norwegian, but hearing Anders say it is doing crazy things to my body. I watch his mouth move as he forms the words. His lips draw down and his tongue flicks against the roof of his mouth. It’s sexy as hell.
Smiling I say, “One more time?”
“Hallo. Jeg heter Elena. Hyggelig å møte deg.” He chuckles. “Your turn.”
I don’t respond, too caught up in my daydream wondering if Anders ever whispers dirty words in Norwegian? I wonder what those words would sound like slipping from his mouth as he comes?
“Elena.” He stands in front of me.
“Huh?”
He raises his eyebrows. “You okay?”
Too embarrassed to admit what I was actually thinking, I simply nod. “Yeah. So, Hallo. Jeg heter Elena. Hyggelig å møte deg.” My words are choppy and lack the grace with which he spoke, but are hopefully understandable.
“Perfect.”
My mind flits over the word he used for thank you. “Takk.”
“Good.” His eyes are warm as he smiles. “They will be impressed.”
I snort. “Yeah, as long as I don’t insult them by confusing Norway and Germany.”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, don’t do that.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’m gonna head out to pick them up. I have my phone if you need me.”
“Okay, see you soon. Be safe.”
“Will do.”
My foot taps impatiently on the floor as I wait in the downstairs lobby for Anders and his parents to arrive. JJ entertained me for a few minutes but had to get outside to work on his Cab 720. I was grateful for the few moments’ distraction. My eyes dart back and forth, palms grasp tight, fingers twist. Breathe.
When I hear them approach my body jerks forward so quickly that my glass of water spills over the table. I mop it up as best I can with my small bar napkin, but a puddle of water still remains. My fingers swipe up and down my jean-clad thighs in an attempt to dry them. They stop directly in front of me.
“Mom, Dad, this is Elena.” Anders voice is rigid, much more formal than I’ve ever heard him speak.
“H-Hi.” I stammer, but then remember the greeting. “Hallo.” Their eyes widen in surprise. I look to Anders who gives me an encouraging smile. “Jeg heter Elena. Hyggelig å møte deg.”
“Hyggelig.” His father says before leaning in to kiss one cheek, and then the other.
“Nice to meet you,” his mother says with narrowed eyes. “I do speak English.” Her accent is strong, giving some of her words a slight “v” sound. Meet, sounds like veet, speak, like sveak.
My face flames. Flustered, I say, “I know, I just thought—”
“Mom,” Anders’s interrupts. “She was trying to be nice.”
“Yes, well.” His mother shakes her head in dismissal. “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”
“No ma’am.” I say, matching her formality. Thank God my bus is scheduled to leave before then.
“I have practice at one.” Anders says. “Why don’t you guys check in and then we can meet in the café for an early lunch?” He loops his hand through mine and I’m grateful for the simple gesture.
His mother’s eyes narrow on our connected hands and she slowly nods her head as we part ways.
“Ohmygod. Anders, she hates me!” I cry as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“No, she doesn’t.” He encourages, squeezing my hand.
I stop mid-stride and he jerks to a stop. He turns his head to see why I’m not walking, but I give him a look.
“Gigs, she’ll warm up. I promise.”
“Not likely,” I mutter.
“Come on.”
Kudos to me for surviving lunch. I tried my best to make a good impression on his parents, but to be honest I didn’t get to say much. Most of the time was spent with Anders and his mother and father conversing in Norwegian. A part of me loved watching him speak in his native tongue, found it downright sexy, but I yearned to know what they were saying. I gleaned random words, like jeg, vi, der and on more than one occasion, Elena. What the hell were they saying about me?
Countless times Anders tried to switch the conversation back to English, encouraged me to join in, but each and every time I managed to get a word in, the switch magically flipped back to Norwegian. The lunch went on forever.
His parents were just as much a mystery to me now as they were before our lunch. I couldn’t get a definite read on his dad; he was very brusque and formal, but his eyes seemed kind. Just when I’d written him off, he offered me a small smile and another quick kiss on each cheek as we departed.
His mother was a whole different story. I never thought I’d actually wish to be back in Brit’s company, but even she was preferable to his mother’s harsh personality. It wasn’t so much what she said—her comments were nice enough—but it was the undertone, the condescending way she implied that I wasn’t good enough for her son, the way she implied that I somehow was trying to trap him. And that’s just from what I understood—I could only imagine what she said about me that I couldn’t understand.
By the time Anders was scheduled to meet with his coach, I was ready to retreat back to our hotel room. I needed a mental break from the intense morning. He promised he’d be back as soon as he was able, and so I snuggled in our bed, counting the minutes until he returned.
When he finally made it back to our room he was exhausted, nearly collapsing on the bed. I dragged him under the covers with me and we didn’t resurface until nearly 6:00 p.m. when it was time for me to leave.
Both my hands grip the steering wheel. There’s so much tension in me that my knuckles turn white. My eyes dart across the road and I’m doing ten miles under the speed limit. Better safe than sorry. I know how much Anders’s car costs. More shocking than the price tag is that he let me drive it. Rather, insisted that I drive it back to Seven Pines. I’m quite sorry that I mentioned the bus was cold, but he assured me that even if it were warm, he wouldn’t stand for me riding the bus back into town. His car was safer. I’d get there faster. He could get a ride with JJ. He left no room for argument.
I will admit his car is quite comfortable. The heated seat hugs my back and bottom; it’s like getting a massage. I left late, though not too late because Anders didn’t want me driving the back roads at night by myself, so the traffic is light. In fact, there aren’t many cars around. The radio is clicked on to my favorite channel as I plow down the road.
Some of t
he tension melts away as my thoughts drift over the past day and a half with Anders. I mentally applaud myself for having the courage to hatch a sexy plan and follow through with it. And Cosmo was right—the outfit was well worth the time and money.
Sex with Anders has always been wonderful; there has never been a time when I haven’t enjoyed it. But these past days I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The feel of his cock inside me, rock hard, but velvety smooth gliding in and out of me. The look of pure ecstasy on his face as he moved deep inside with no barrier between us. The way he pulled me close when he came inside of me. Each and every time. Five to be exact. Oh my.
Heat spreads across my face and my legs clench together. I fumble at the controls to turn down the temperature. Absently I fan myself in effort to combat the heat coloring my cheeks. Think about something else.
But the dirty thoughts won’t stop replaying through my mind. Anders’s cock buried deep, twitching his release. Anders’s lips sucking my clit. Anders’s fingers pinching my nipples. Stop. Just stop, Elena.
Wanting a distraction I reach for my phone. Probably not my best idea while driving, but if I don’t stop the slew of wicked thoughts I’m going to crash the freaking car. Thankfully Anders has synced my phone with the audio system, another one of his safety precautions. Who knew he’d be so safe? Kind of oxymoronic coming from a man who boards vicious, steep trails for a living.
Erika picks up on the fourth ring. “Hello.”
“Hey.” My voice is cheery. Yep, I definitely sound like a girl who just had a marathon sex session. “What’s up?”
“Not much.” Her voice cracks.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She sounds more like herself and I chalk up my concern to bad reception.
“Just wanted to let you know that you don’t need to pick me up at the bus station. Anders made me drive his car.”
“Okay.” Her voice lacks her usual snarkiness. I was definitely expecting some reference to driving something else of Anders.
“You sure you okay?”
There’s a long pause and then I hear a quick gulp of air.
“Erika, what’s going?” Is she crying?
No response.