Stop it! Don’t! Back down! Come closer! I am verging on madness right now. How the hell did we get here?OK, we had a staring match with me almost naked upstairs but then... No, it has been going on ever since Ava knocked on his door and he emerged like an Adonis. No, like a barbaric Norse Viking.
He is so close, his hand right next to my thigh, his eyes pinned on mine and that tongue of his licking the bane of my existence, a small piece of metal that has been the single thing to make me lose it. And I do. I lose it. I attack.
My hand goes to his neck and with one pull I diminish the little space that separated us. My lips crash on his and I feel the lip ring against my lower lip. Yes! I feel so alive as if I have been behind a glass window all these years, faintly seeing and hearing others. Finally, that glass is shuttered and I get all the smells, the sounds, the tastes all at once.
Starved for life, I am ready to pull Stig more to me. But he attacks back fiercely. He pushes his body into mine and I find myself with my back on the couch and him on top of me. Before Stig, I thought I had been kissed. I was merely rubbing faces with men. This? This is a goddamn kiss that reminds me of how Bjorn staked his claim on Ava.
His skilled tongue finds his way into my mouth and we are battling for control. Too quickly all the other men before Stig, they gave up and let me take the lead. Not Stig. Yet, there is no fierce battle, no annoying display of dominion. We kiss in a feral way that has a dance, a flow of its own, each giving and taking, relinquishing control and demanding it back. No, I have never been truly kissed.
Stig demands more, his body pressing more into me, his hands opening my thighs and nesting between them.
“Fuck!” I hiss as our groins meet.
He pushes once more and the friction of his jeans against my sweatpants is making me throw my head back and close my eyes. If he keeps rubbing against me like that, I will come by the friction. He wastes no time and his lips fall on my neck. And just like that, I am gone. I must have this man in every way possible. Now.
I grab him and without thinking I roll us over and we find ourselves on the floor, the thick, oriental rug cushioning the small fall. This time, I am on top of him. One elbow is on the rug and my other hand caresses his face. We just look at each other panting. Our bodies move without our command. I too am nested between his thighs and I slowly grind my pelvis against his.
“Stig,” I try.
"Håll tyst och kyss mig,” he commands.
I have no fucking clue what he asked me to do but what I am going to do what I want. I lean in and I pull his lower lip in my mouth. Along with that lip ring and I feel the urgency to taste all the metal on his body. My free hand goes to the hem of his t-shirt and I pull it up. We stop just for a moment to get the damn thing out of the way while I pull on mine.
When I lean back in, we are chest to chest, the nipple rings cold against my skin. I jerk and my erection rubs against his.
“Fan! Mer,” he curses and his hand slips down my back, through the seam of my sweatpants to squeeze my naked butt.
Oh my God, oh my God, of my God! I am once more a blushing 15-year old around him on my first make-out session. Every hair on my body is in attention and I cannot stop shaking from anticipation. If just kissing him and dry-humping him has been the best sexual experience of my life, what actual sex be like? Will my head explode? Who cares, I am not stopping now. Judging by the way he drags his feet on the rug to lift his knees so we are touching more he is not stopping either.
I break the kiss once more and push his head slightly to the side so I can suck on his neck. His probing hand squeezes tighter and he pushes me to him more. He is ready to explore further, reach down to me and I am ready to go down till I have a nipple ring in my mouth. I have no idea how much this fucking rug costs but Eileen will have to burn it after we are done.
And then the phone rings.
“You got to be fucking kidding me!” I explode but do not move away.
Stig stiffens under me. I ignore his reaction and try to drag him back into our heated moment, determined not to let something so fucking cliche ruining this. I want this so much. I know I am acting like a spoiled brat but I don’t fucking care. I want this, I want him.
“Nathan” Stig tries to get up.
“No,” I pin him down and lick his neck.
He sighs in frustration as the phone keeps on ringing. His body relaxes and molds into mine and the phone stops ringing. Thank all the gods. And just as I am going for the buttons of his jeans, the phone starts ringing again.
I double my efforts, going for the skin behind his ear and Stig arcs his back in response but as the phone keeps its relentless attack, he stops and shakes his head. He pulls away.
“Fuck the phone, Stig,” I sound and am desperate.
Stig pins me with an enigmatic look on his face.
That’s all he says before pulling from under me and grabbing his phone. He straightens his pants and messes his hair before pressing on the screen.
What the fuck? Is he and Tor...? The King of the Riders sure seemed overly protective of Stig but I would have never guessed that he would be...
I get up frustrated and sit on the couch looking at Stig.
“Tja!” Stig answers and withdraws a bit to talk to his King.