Dirty Swedish Player: A Big Stick Novel

by R. C. Stephens

  “There’s no place I’d rather be than here.” He kisses me again, kicking off his shoes and backing me deeper into the house. My eyes open as he walks me toward the family room.

  “We are going to need more privacy than this,” I say into his lips.

  “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” he asks with a hint of intrigue.

  “For starters, we need to go to my room and close the door. You know the neighbors can be nosy.” I remind him, because Mrs. Saloway is constantly on the deck in her backyard even in winter and somehow, she is always looking around. Mom just mentioned to me the other day that she asked her about the new plant on the left-hand corner of the room.

  “Your room, huh? I’m liking the sound of that.” Griff’s grin closely resembles that of a Cheshire cat. It floods me with need. I grab his hand and take the stairs quickly to my room.

  “Eager much?” He laughs.

  “You have no idea.” I smile deviously. I wonder what his reaction will be when he finds out what I have planned.

  After climbing on my bed, I place my head on the pillow, and Griff cuddles up beside me.

  “How’s school going? You have a lot of work to do over break?” he asks.

  As a senior, I’ve been working my ass off. If I want to get into Harvard to do an undergraduate degree in history, I need to have top marks.

  “I’ve got work,” I answer, not wanting to get into details. “But I was hoping we could focus on other things right now,” I say, using my finger to caress some exposed skin on his neck.

  His face flushes, and I’m sure his blood is running south.

  “I’m liking the sound of that.” He smiles, his voice low and gruff.

  It takes mere seconds for our bodies to meld together. Our lips brush and heat overtakes us the way it usually does. He rolls on top of me and uses his arms to prop himself up so I’m not crushed beneath him. He smells like fresh shower gel and Griff. I inhale, marking his scent to memory, knowing he’ll be leaving soon. Two weeks of break will fly by, and I’ll have to wait for Easter to see him again. For more stolen moments.

  His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, wet and messy. My hands run up his back and lower to his behind while his hand skates under my shirt. His eyes open when he finds me bra-less. His thumb gently rubs my nipples, giving attention to both of them, and I let out a moan.

  “You have no idea how much I missed that sound,” he says. “I’m rock hard.” He winces, as if he didn’t mean for the second part to escape. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Knowing you want me makes me crazy.” Sparks of heat shoot between my thighs.

  He slides his finger inside my flannel pajama pants. “Fuck, you are so wet,” he growls.

  “Yes,” I moan, moving my hips. I need him so much. I reach for his belt and unbutton his jeans.

  “Jolie, what are you doing?” His tone is scolding, but I’m five weeks away from my eighteenth birthday and I want this.

  I blow out a breath.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I want us to sleep together.” There, I said it, and I feel so much lighter. His eyes widen. He needs some convincing.

  I press my pelvis into the hardness of his crotch. He groans and rubs at his eyes.

  “I love you. Is that not enough?” I ask with a pout.

  He stares at me, his gaze filled with agony. “I would love to sleep with you, Jolie, but not yet. I want to be something, establish myself when I make you a promise of forever.”

  “You already made me a promise of forever,” I remind him playing hard ball.

  “I did,” he agrees, rubbing my back.

  “I’ll be eighteen soon enough,” I preen. “I’m ready. I want you. I need to have something to remember you with when you’re away at school. I want to feel you inside me.”

  An animalistic rumble vibrates his chest and leaves his mouth. “To hear you say those words . . .” He flips me on my back and presses his hard length into my belly. “You’re going to be the end of me. I can’t say no to you.” He grinds his length into me and I whimper. I manage to read between the lines of his words.

  “My dad is on another continent. We have the house to ourselves all day.”

  We grind into each other. I moan.

  His resolve weakens as he cups me behind my head and brings his lips to mine. We’ve always been hot for each other, but now it feels like a new fire has been lit and burns wild between us. As we kiss hungrily, my breath is sucked away. We work frantically to get each other’s clothes off. Naked, we continue to dry hump. Why are we dry humping? Our clothes are off. Still, it’s such a turn-on feeling his skin rub against mine, and I think I may come so I take a breath and look down. I’ve never seen his penis. It’s bigger than I thought.

  “What?” He laughs.

  “It’s big.” I have no frame of reference. His is the first penis I’ve seen.

  “Having second thoughts?” He cocks his left brow.

  “No.” My answer is fast.

  I slowly touch him, and he groans. I wrap my hands around his cock and pump.

  He groans and gyrates his hips beneath my touch. “Jesus,” he hisses. “You’re going to make me come.”

  He places his hand over mine to stop the movement and flips me on my back, hovering above me. My nipples strain beneath his stare. He doesn’t leave me hanging long as his hot mouth connects with my nipple. My body feels too hot. Need throbs painfully between my thighs as I run my fingers through his hair.

  “Griff,” I moan, needing something.

  “I know,” he answers with a raspy voice. His kisses move lower and lower . . . until his lips connect with warm flesh. I moan so loud I’m sure the house rattles.

  “You sure we’re alone?” he asks, looking up to me from between my thighs.

  I blush, and I’m unable to formulate a sentence. He has never gone down on me before and his warm tongue against the most tender parts of me makes me detonate like fireworks on the fourth of July. I am going to explode as my heart pumps fast, and my skin is slick with sweat. “Don’t stop,” I groan.

  Griff chuckles. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Colors. . .lots of beautiful colors and rainbows fly past me as I climax.

  “I want inside you. Problem is I don’t have any condoms.” He frowns.

  “I have a box,” I say, and his eyebrows almost hit his forehead.

  “What?” he asks, as if he didn’t hear me right.

  “I told you on the phone I wanted this.” I don’t know why he is so surprised.

  “I thought I was dreaming,” he answers with a snicker.

  “No.” I lean away and reach into my side table where I have a full box of condoms I bought from the pharmacy last week. I pass him the box, and he cusses under his breath as he sheathes himself. I watch him intently. With the condom on, he hovers above me and kisses me softly, tenderly.

  “I love you so much,” he whispers.

  “I love you,” I answer.

  “Forever,” he says.

  My heart bursts because college hasn’t changed him. He is still different from the rest of the teenage boys I know. He doesn’t only want in my pants. Our hearts are connected in a way that’s hard to describe.

  We were friends first. He’s been there at so many important moments in my life and we are here now, sharing this special moment.

  “Forever,” I say as he slowly enters me, and a slow burn of pain crawls up my spine.

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.” He grits his jaw tight.

  “This is perfect,” I assure him even with my eyes squeezed shut and my breath held. If I tell him it hurts, he will stop.

  “You’re perfect and mine, always.” His movements quicken, and the burn I felt before turns to white sparks. Need like I’ve never felt before blazes through me and I begin to move with him. I take what he is sharing: his love, devotion, everything, us, forever. My orgasm comes spiraling, surprising the hell out of me. Just as I let go, Griff falls
with me. We fall together.

  I’m so sore, but I also know I have him for a limited time. He gets up briefly to dispose of the condom and I watch the clench of his bare behind as he walks to the trash can next to my desk. Everything about him is perfect, from his heart to his muscular build, and when he turns around and smiles, my heart bursts a little further.

  He climbs back into bed and I lie in his arms, sated, for I don’t know how long. I roll on top of him and we begin to kiss. His arms wrap around me and with our naked bodies pressed together I feel him lengthening and that blazing need I felt before returns, but he doesn’t initiate anything more.

  “I want you again,” I assure him.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he sighs.

  “You won’t. I need you,” I say.

  He groans. “You don’t know how much I want that.”

  “So have me. We don’t get a lot of alone time together. We need to take advantage.” I try to convince him. It isn’t hard. He flips me on my back and his head dips down between my legs.

  His tongue caresses my clit back and forth, and it doesn’t take long for me to writhe beneath him. I begin to moan.

  “I want to make you come like this but I am greedy.” He stops and pulls the condom box off my side table. I watch him roll the condom over his length as my insides contract, and I feel bereft of his touch.

  He rubs me with his fingers a little, spreading my wetness, and then he thrusts inside me and my eyes snap shut. His movements are hungry and both our bodies are coated in a sheen of sweat. My hips begin to move with his and my chin tilts back, and I come. The feeling is euphoric. Griff picks up his pace and stiffens inside me. I open my eyes and watch him come undone before me. I revel in the thought that I can make him completely come apart.

  “How am I going to be without you until Easter?” He falls on the bed beside me, panting.

  “I don’t know.” I can’t imagine him leaving to go back to school. I want him more now than I did before. “Maybe I can come out there to visit for a weekend?”

  He cocks a brow. It’s my senior year and I’ve been working extra hard. Logan is his roommate; it was a far-fetched thought.

  “I wish you could.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

  “I should get up.” I sit and throw the blanket off me, and my eyes widen at the sight of blood between my legs.

  Griff hisses beside me. “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I answer fast. I don’t want him going inside his head; he has a tendency of tearing himself down.

  “Let me grab you a warm cloth,” he says, and he climbs out of bed and heads into the washroom attached to my bedroom.

  He returns with a warm cloth and slowly cleans off my thighs before cupping me between my legs. His touch is gentle, and the warm look in his eyes makes me fall even harder for him. “I hope I didn’t hurt you. I feel bad for making you bleed.”

  “I’m pretty sure bleeding comes along with taking one’s virginity and you shouldn’t be sorry. Today was perfect.” I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.

  “We should probably get these sheets in the wash,” he says.

  “Definitely.” I don’t want Mom coming home and finding them. I spring into action, throwing the pillows off my bed and gathering the sheets.

  I put on the T-shirt I was wearing before and the pajama pants, and I saunter down the hallway to the laundry room. I start the machine right away.

  When I return to my room, Griff has his clothes back on.

  “I better get out of here. I hate to leave you but we both have these stupid smiles on our faces. I want to stay and say hi to your mom but she will know we had sex.” Griff laughs, looking a lot more relaxed.

  I walk over to the mirror in my room. He’s right; my cheeks are a healthy pink and I’m grinning from ear to ear. “I look like I just got lucky.” I giggle.

  “I’m the lucky one, Jolie,” he says, making my heart feel so full. He kisses the side of my neck and shivers roll down my spine. “When is your dad expected back?”

  “I don’t know the exact time. Mom said he was on a late flight, and he would be taking a cab home,” I answer. It is only five in the afternoon. We have plenty of time. “Today was perfect.”

  “It was. I plan on having more perfect moments with you over break,” he says, and we begin to kiss again and that sparks fire..

  When my fingers thread through his hair, he pulls away. “I better go. If I kiss you like this a little longer, we are going to end up back in that bed, and I’ll have you whimpering under me.”

  I want to tell him I’m too sore for a third round, but I don’t want him feeling bad. Today was perfect.

  I kiss him and slide my tongue in his mouth. He moans.

  “I need to go. I have to leave.” It is taking all of his willpower not to take me to bed again and that makes my ego soar.

  “When will I see you?” I ask.

  “Stevenson is throwing a party tomorrow night,” he says. Mark Stevenson was on the football team with Logan and Griff. I’d heard he had stayed in town and went to Boston U. “I wish you could come with me,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down my waist. “Your brother will be there.”

  “Will Jenn be there too?” I ask, trying to hide the bitter taste I feel on my tongue. Jenn gets to hang out with college guys and do fun things while I will be stuck at home watching some old nineties movie. If only my friends wanted to go to parties too.

  “I’m guessing she might be,” he says sympathetically.

  “Why does she get to go and I don’t? It isn’t fair.” I cross my arms over my chest, knowing I sound whiney but not caring.

  “Logan expects her to get drunk and act like an ass. And if you’re there, I will want to be with you. I don’t have to go,” he says.

  “It’s not like we can hang out anyway,” I answer. “Dad will be home. He hasn’t been home in a week. I’m sure he’ll want to spend time with Mom,” I say, even though that isn’t always the case. Sometimes Dad is gone for a week or a few days, then comes home and spends most of his time in his office at the university. He and Mom don’t have the most romantic of relationships.

  “Maybe we should just tell Logan the truth about us,” I suggest.

  “What if he tells your dad?” Griff sounds terrified. “I don’t want to think what would happen then.”

  Logan is Dad’s clone. He looks like a young Chris Hemsworth. He also idolizes our father and wants to be a Harvard professor like him. Dad isn’t home often but when he is, Logan tries to do everything to soak up his attention.

  “You have a point. I don’t know that my brother can be trusted.” I grunt.

  “I’ll see you Christmas Eve. Your mom invited me over,” he says apologetically. I know he wants to spend more time with me. Our situation sucks. “I should go. I hate to leave. I wish we didn’t have to hide . . .”

  “I know.” I can read his nerves. If Dad comes home, this won’t look good.

  Dad doesn’t like Griff hanging around me. He made that clear when he found Griff teaching me how to slow dance in our basement when I was in eighth grade. Griff had been a freshman and he was just a friend helping me out, but maybe we had always been more than friends and Dad saw it.

  “I love you.” Griff presses his lips to mine and closes his eyes like he’s cherishing the moment. I close my eyes and enjoy his lips on mine.

  “I love you,” I answer. “Come, let’s go eat something,” I say, knowing Mom always has home-cooked food ready in the fridge. Griff grew up with an alcoholic father who did a shit job at taking care of him. He probably doesn’t have food at home now, and being a student, he is on a tight budget.

  We sit in the kitchen and I warm some of Mom’s mac and cheese. The way he quickly eats tells me he is hungry. I hate knowing he hasn’t eaten, and internally, I chide myself. I should have brought him to the kitchen before taking him to my room. He didn’t even say anything, because he probably wanted
to spend our alone time together in private. At least if someone comes home now, it won’t look so bad.

  When he finishes eating, I pack him a ham and cheese sandwich for later tonight and walk him to the door. We kiss and say goodbye. I am sure we will sneak more perfect moments over Christmas break.

  Only we don’t, because on Christmas Eve, when he is supposed to join us for our usual festive dinner, he doesn’t show.

  Logan gets a text saying Griff is back in Florida. Apparently he had applied for a job at Universal Studios and it came through early. He started work right away.

  Griff doesn’t answer my calls or the million text messages I send. He’s vanished from my life and I don’t understand why . . .

  Ten years later

  “Hey, Jolie, how about we go to that hot new bar tonight? The client that was just here invited me, but it’s not a date. I could really use you as my wingwoman.” My best friend Michelle pushes out her lower lip.

  “You know a hot new bar isn’t my scene.” I scrunch my nose at the mere thought of having to get dressed in some trendy outfit and wear high heels. The last time I was out was approximately three months ago, for my twenty-eighth birthday. Michelle and our other friends literally tricked me into going out with them.

  “So the wingwoman argument isn’t working?” Michelle’s lips quirk on one side.

  “Sorry, babe.” I shake my head and smile. She’s a good friend for trying to get me to go out, since I have a tendency of staying home all weekend. “I have fifteen minutes until my next client. I was going to grab a cup of coffee and snack. I’m exhausted. I got caught up in a really good book last night about a highlander pirate.” I waggle my brows.

  “Bleh. You and your books.” She waves me off. While I like to read about happy ever after, Mich is out there trying to find hers. I think it’s great but after everything I’ve been through, a book boyfriend is playing it safe, and I like safe.

  A customer walks up to the front desk, a credit card in hand. Mich’s disappointment with me transforms into her full-wattage smile. I’m thankful to be saved from one of her lectures on how I’m throwing all the good years of my life away by reading books and not living life. I don’t see it that way.