“I was tested a couple months back and haven’t been with anyone but you since. Can I come inside you like this?” I ask. I surprise even myself with the request.
She pauses. I’ve clearly thrown her off. It seems like whatever she’s thinking clouds her features and then she answers with one word . . . “Yes.”
My heart gallops as I exhale. My cock slides inside her. Warmth and wetness coat me; I’m in sheer heaven. I pump inside her and she moans relentlessly, her head moving against the glass as she bobs up and down on my dick. I suck at her breasts, since my hands are being used to hold her up. Her head lolls from side to side as she makes the sweetest of sounds.
“I’m going to come,” she warns. I’m right behind her. I want to say it out loud, but my balls get heavy and sparks shoot down my spine as she screams my name. I blow my load inside her. Sparks fill my vision as I stiffen and pump. Her sounds make my orgasm last longer as she spasms around me.
We both fall to the ground limp and out of breath. I’ve never gone bareback before, and holy fuck, was I missing out. My cum drips down her legs and something inside me makes me want to beat my chest like a fucking caveman. She’s mine. Only she isn’t.
“Let me grab you a towel,” I say, trying to suppress my last thought. I trudge to the master bathroom and grab one of the clean towels hanging on the bar. I soak it with warm water and bring a dry towel too. I clean off her legs with the wet one and hand her the other to dry herself with while I get myself cleaned up.
“Come.” I take her by the hand and flip my comforter over. We both get into bed. She snuggles up next to me, and I kiss the top of her head. I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, but Sierra makes it easy. Before her, sex was a release. A way to get off. With her, it feels like a way to be closer to her. It makes me feel good and bad. I can’t understand why.
“My legs feel like jelly,” she says.
“Mine too.” I chuckle. “It was a hard game.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she says, rolling her eyes playfully.
“I can’t let myself fall asleep, even though I feel like my eyes are closing,” she says.
“Sleep. We can wake up extra early,” I say.
She tilts her head to look up at me. “I think it would be better if you drove me home tonight, if that’s okay.”
I get a weird vibe from her, like I did earlier in the car. “Okay. I can take you. Did you want to go now?” I ask, assuming she will say no.
“Yes. If we stay like this, one of us will fall asleep,” she says. She moves out of my grasp. She leaves the bed and uses the bathroom and when she comes back, I want her to get back into bed with me, only she walks over to the window, picks up her clothes, and begins to get dressed. I’m disappointed.
I get dressed, too, and lead her downstairs.
“Are you hungry?” I ask her, because I am famished.
“Yes, I could eat something. I didn’t have time for dinner,” she explains. Her mood is solemn. I don’t ask her why. I’m not sure I should.
We head to the kitchen and I make us grilled cheese sandwiches. Well, I make her one and me three. Then I drive her home.
“I forgot to mention that I got a job yesterday,” she says as I’m driving.
I want to hit the brakes and say, ‘What the ever-loving fuck?’ but I take a deep breath and instead, I say, “Don’t tell me you’re quitting me.”
“Very funny.” She laughs. “I can’t let you pay me anymore. Now that we’re sleeping together, it just doesn’t feel right.”
My stomach sinks. “What does that mean?”
“I got a job at a fair-trade coffee shop close to my apartment,” she explains.
“So, you won’t be my fake girlfriend anymore?”
Her lips pinch. “Don’t you think we’ve complicated things?”
“Things are perfect,” I say.
“Look, Nils. If you need me to still help you out with the couple pics on social media, that’s fine. I hate lying to Sunny about you being my boyfriend, but I’ve committed, so I’m willing to carry on this charade a little longer. Your rep has been cleared. You’ve had a great start to the season. I’ve seen your stats.”
“But I mean, I still want to see you. Like, can we still stay in touch?” My hands grip the steering wheel tight.
“Yeah. We’ve become friends, I’d like to think,” she says.
My brows pinch together. We are a lot more than friends. “I like our phone talks. I like spending time with you. Hell, I love having sex with you. Tonight was off the charts, am I right?” I’m stopped at a red light, so I look at her. She has her hands held together in a ball in her lap and she’s chewing her lip.
“It was.” She nods.
The light turns green and we are seconds away from pulling up to her apartment building. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I feel her slipping away.
We reach the curb.
“Good night, beautiful,” I say. She leans over and gives me a closed-mouth kiss on the lips. The only relief I have is that she lingers a little longer than usual. It makes me feel uneasy like maybe she is saying goodbye.
“Good night, Nils.” She leaves my car. I want to call after her. But I don’t, because I think I know what’s happening, and I have nothing to offer her but a good time in bed.
Twenty-Four
Sierra
I’ve been focusing on school and work the last couple of weeks. Nils has been on a long stretch of away games. Still, he calls me every night and posts stuff on Twitter about missing his girl, and wishing he was with me.
How I wish those posts weren’t just a façade. I’ve completely fallen for him. I’m pissed at myself for letting it happen, when I knew he wanted nothing more than a fake girlfriend and a warm bed.
Sunny told Declan she doesn’t want to see him anymore, and he didn’t come running after her. I’m afraid if I say the same to Nils, he won’t come running after me either, and where will that leave me?
I’ve gone and fallen in love with the jerk. I can’t picture my life without him. I wait for his nightly calls. Sometimes, he calls after midnight if he’s had a late game, but without fail, he always calls. It’s confusing, because he says he’s attracted to me and doesn’t want to sleep with other women, and the sex between us is the best I’ve ever had. I think he feels the same, minus all the intense feelings I’ve developed.
He’s going to be home tomorrow, and he told me to clear my schedule in the evening so we could have dinner together. I made sure to get the assignment I was working on out of the way just so I could spend time with him. It’s messed up. I don’t know what to do.
I can’t share my thoughts with Sloane because she basically went apeshit when I told her we had sex. Yes, she wants us together, but she wants Nils to be committed to me. Only that isn’t happening because, as I’ve learned, commitment isn’t his thing.
After picking up some groceries, I head home. I place my items on the counter and I realize I have a message from Nils.
Nils: What do you want for dinner?
Me: I’m making us dinner.
Now that I’m not under his employment, this isn’t one of our designated dates and he doesn’t need to feel obligated to pay.
Nils: Let me bring takeout. You work hard enough as it is.
He has a point, but after treating me so many times, I’d feel better if I made him dinner.
Me: I’m cooking. What time do you plan on coming by?
Nils: I can be there by seven.
I look at my phone. It’s five.
Me: Perfect. See you then.
Standing by the stove, I feel torn. Yes, I’ve been sleeping with him, even though he isn’t willing to commit, but now that feelings are involved, something has shifted.
As I sear the chicken breasts in the pan for the chicken piccata, I make a decision. I can’t sleep with him anymore. My heart breaks as my mind and heart process exactly what it will mean, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t continue making
love to him, knowing he doesn’t feel the same way. It will implode eventually, and I want to have control over when it ends. As it is, I’m in too deep.
When dinner is cooked, I take a shower and wash my hair since I hate smelling like the food I’ve cooked. I slip on a pair of panties, joggers, and a loose grey T-shirt when the doorbell chimes. Wearing a completely unsexy outfit won’t keep his advances at bay, since he clearly wants to have sex with me no matter what I am wearing, but feeling unsexy may help me reject his advances when they arrive. And I know they will arrive. I could sense his tone was needy during last night’s call.
I saunter over to the door with wet hair, no makeup, and a heavy heart. When I open the door, I am met with a smiling Nils. He’s holding a bouquet of pink roses and a box of Godiva chocolates.
“We aren’t in a fake relationship. You didn’t have to do this.” I lean up and press a fast kiss to his lips.
His arms snake around my waist and he pulls me flush with his body.
“I wanted to do this. I can tell you like flowers and chocolate,” he says, pressing his lips to mine.
“The chocolate is going to add to my already curvy hips,” I say. I pull away from him.
“I love your hips; they’re sexy as hell.” He looks around the apartment. “Are we alone?”
I can read his mind; it’s easy. “Sunny is out. I’m guessing she’ll be back around midnight.”
He nods and smiles. “Good. I’ve missed you so hard.”
My hand comes up to caress his cheek. I love touching him, being with him, talking to him. I’m going to miss this.
“Hope you’re hungry,” I say, walking into the kitchen. I place the chocolates on the counter and get the flowers set up in a vase. I place them on the side of the table.
“It smells really good,” he says.
“I made chicken piccata. I hope it turned out good because it was my first time trying this recipe,” I say.
“Just smelling it, I can tell it will be delicious,” he says.
“Thank you.” I place it on the table. Nils sets the cutlery and plates.
We sit to eat. He compliments me repeatedly. Other than thank you, I don’t say much. I don’t know what to say.
After we finish eating, I stand to clear the plates off the table. He stands, too, and places his hand over mine.
“Let me get this,” he says. “You cooked. I’ll clean up.”
I don’t know why those words surprise me, but they do. Nils and I grew up in dysfunctional families. To say we had bad role models is an understatement. The fact that he is being so sweet makes what I am about to do even harder.
I help him clear the table. He insists on washing the dishes. He tells me about his time away. I tell him I was able to watch a few of the games.
“I did well on the math test you helped me out with. I just got the mark back,” I say.
“Good.” He gives me a one-word answer that sounds tense. I’ve been less than talkative all evening and I know he senses it.
The air in the kitchen suddenly feels dense and my chest constricts.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?” His voice is filled with concern. I’d expected him to maybe be irritated because I’ve been shut down since he arrived, but he isn’t.
I take a deep breath. You can do this.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” I say quickly. He flinches. The sting of my words reverberates in my chest. My heart splits in two.
“Are you serious?” His face contorts. “Why?”
“Why?” I repeat. “Because we aren’t going anywhere. This whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation we have going on is messed up. I told you from the start that I’m not okay with no-strings-attached sex. I just can’t do it anymore.”
He snickers, loud and ugly. “Fuck buddy, huh?” he says, like the words taste bad on his tongue. “You damn well know I don’t treat you like a fuck buddy.”
I fold my arms over my chest as anger builds inside me. “Oh, really? Explain it to me, Nils. We have these intense talks like we are good friends. I’ve told you things I’ve never shared with anyone else—”
“I have, too.”
“We sleep together, Nils. A lot, and it’s great, but it needs to end because I’m not built for this.” A lone tear I was trying to hold in escapes and slips down my cheek.
“Don’t do this, Sierra,” he pleads. His blue eyes look pained, but he isn’t offering an alternative, and I won’t ask for one.
“I just did.” I hold strong. My chin is slightly tilted up. I can’t break. Not now. He can’t know that I’ve fallen so utterly, deeply in love with him that I can’t think straight. He doesn’t feel the same way. I won’t be rejected.
“What about our friendship? You just want to throw that away?” His voice shakes, and his eyes fill with tears. I hate that he’s hurting. As much as I see his pain, he won’t give me what I want.
Hold strong, Sierra..
“I don’t want to end our friendship, but I don’t see another way. I need you to leave, Nils. Please,” I plead, working hard to keep my voice even, when I’m only moments away from breaking.
He gives me an incredulous look and picks his car keys off the counter. He turns away from me and stalks out of the apartment.
I follow after him to lock the door. My heart is splitting in two. Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life? I wasn’t expecting it to hurt so bad.
I head over to the couch and cry my eyes out. Love hurts. I should have never gotten myself involved with him to begin with. Given our history, it was always going to be a recipe for disaster.
I head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of the cheap red wine I bought at the supermarket. I was going to serve it with dinner, but then thought it would send the wrong message, and I needed a clear head. Now I just don’t want to feel anything at all.
I turn on Netflix and find a romantic movie because I am clearly a glutton for punishment. Then I pour my first glass of wine and drink it down too fast. I pour another as I watch Return to the Blue Lagoon. Being stranded on an island would suck, but I like how the characters love each other so much. Then, when that woman comes from the mainland and tries to take poor Richard away, my blood boils. I think of all the relationship-haters Nils and I had. There are going to be lots of women to pounce on him now. Will he revert back to his old ways and sleep with random women? The thought turns my blood cold. Yet, I know you can’t cage a wild animal and expect to tame him. That’s why I had to let Nils go, because he could never be what I need him to be.
Twenty-Five
Nils
#relationshipssuck. I tweeted those words a week ago. Now, the bunnies are hot on my tail, sending me private messages. I don’t want any of them, but I would just love to fuck Sierra Cole right out of my system.
I lace up my skates for tonight’s game. I’ve wanted to drown myself in all the alcohol, but I haven’t touched a drop all week. The temptation is strong. I still can’t believe Sierra cut me off the way she did. Everything was going so well.
“Karlsson,” Myles shouts. “We gotta move.”
My mind snaps back to reality. I stand, grab my stick, and head out to the ice for tonight’s game against the Minnesota Wild. Fitting it’s the team she cheers for. Out on the ice the anthem sounds, and I look out to the stands, wanting to see her face, but of course, she isn’t here.
I’ve picked up the phone to call her every night, but I haven’t put the call through. She doesn’t even want to speak to me. I know she wanted me to say that I would be in a relationship, that maybe we could see where our torrid little affair would lead us, but I can’t say something I don’t believe. I’m not relationship material. Besides, I’ve been having my best year in hockey yet. My stats are way up, and I need them to stay that way. I’ll never do anything to risk my career again.
The bell sounds. Myles and a player from the other team start us off. Myles gets the puck first and shoots it out across the ice. W
e dash toward it like a bunch of mad men. The puck goes to Oli. He veers off to the right, shoots past Johnson from Minnesota, and straight to Chris. Chris gets hold of the puck. I wait closer to the net. Sears, a player from the other team, is hot on his tail. He’s a hulk, and sometimes plays dirty.
Sears steels the puck from Chris and the other team takes it across the ice. They shoot, and Matt saves the day. The crowd goes wild and the game moves on.
Sweat drips down my face. I’m fucking tired, and it’s not even half-time. I haven’t slept well all week. I look out to the stands to the area where Sierra used to sit for home games. Kelsey, Sloane, and Flynn are here tonight. Fucking great.
Oli shoots the puck my way and I miss. Johnson flies past me sneaks up on Austin, steals the puck, and takes off. Motherfucker. Oli speeds off; Myles is already at Johnson. He steals the puck from Johnson, punting it back across the ice. Oli catches it and passes to Dave. Dave gets close to the net but doesn’t have a clear shot. He takes the puck around the back of the net. When he reaches the front of the net, fucking Sears is in his way. I skate toward mid ice in time for Dave to make the sweetest pass my way.
I shoot and score. Only the excitement I usually feel after scoring just isn’t there.
I’m sitting on the bench, gulping down water at half time when Oli glares at me. “What was that?” he asks.
He’s referring to the pass I missed because I was daydreaming about seeing Sierra cheering for me in the stands. “Nothing.” I shrug. “I’m human.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve been playing with you long enough to know that you spaced. Why? You’ve been acting weird all week,” he says. I turn to look at him and see the concern on his face.
“I’m fine, Oli. Drop it.” I don’t mean to snap, but I do. Great. Now my fucking anger is returning. Sierra had eased my anger like a balm. No, it wasn’t her. It was Fisher. He did a good job, refocusing me. I should increase my sessions
The bell rings and we head back out to the ice.
Dirty Swedish Player: A Big Stick Novel Page 17