“Oh god,” I pant. “I’m done. No more.” I never thought I’d say this, but there’s such a thing as too much sex. Mars Kinnunen is an animal. The man doesn’t tire. We’ve been at it for hours, and I’m officially ready to wave the white flag. This is a first in Rachel Price history. I roll onto my side and crawl away towards the end of the bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Away,” I huff, sweaty and breathless. “Far, far away.”
With a growl he grabs my ankles and drags me back, flipping me over.
“Ilmari!” I cry, kicking my legs. It’s no use. I’m trapped in his iron grip. “Come at me with that monster cock again, and you’ll be paying for my vaginal reconstruction.”
“Money well spent.” He drops down to his elbows, spreads my thighs, and lets his mouth feast on my battered pussy. I’m dripping with his cum, but he doesn’t care, his tongue teasing me from ass to clit.
“Oh my god, you’re insatiable,” I cry, my thighs squeezing his head as I squirm under him.
“You started this,” he says, lifting his mouth away.
“What?” I push on his head with both hands but it’s like trying to shift a boulder. “You were supposed to be driving me home from work, remember? Little did I know you actually meant to kidnap me and drive me to your home.”
Not that I complained. The heat of our sexual tension was hot enough to fry an egg during the whole car ride. We barely made it inside his little waterfront bungalow before we were ripping off our clothes. We were ravenous for each other, fucking on his kitchen table, down the hall, all the way to his bedroom.
That was hours ago. Now his clean linens smell like sex and sweat and utter debauchery.
“I said you couldn’t handle me,” he warns. “I offered you an out on our first night together.”
I prop myself up on my elbows as I hold his gaze. “Oh, is that what you think? You think I can’t handle you, Kinnunen?”
He smirks, rocking back on his knees, his proud cock on display. The cut lines of his muscles are so sharp you could chip a tooth. His hair is down and wild around his shoulders. He looks utterly sinful. “You’re the one crawling away,” he replies in a total deadpan.
I take a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Oh, this is so not happening. Rachel Price is not going to lose in a battle of wills against Mars Kinnunen. Not so long as there is breath in my body. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Okay, big guy. You still wanna play? Fine. Grand finale. Get over here.”
I scoot down the side of his bed towards the bedside table, snatching up the bottle of lube. I’ve learned quick that it’s a must with Mars. He’s just too damn big to play safely without it.
“What are you doing?” he mutters, still on his knees in the middle of the bed.
“Get over here,” I say again. “Stand up.”
He moves off the other side of the bed and walks around the end. His massive frame looms over me as he brushes my hair back from my face with a gentle hand. “What are you doing, Rakas?”
Judging our size difference at this angle, I pop up onto my knees on the edge of the bed and flip the cap off the top of the lube. Squirting some on my chest, I grin up at him, tossing the bottle aside. “Come here,” I say, grabbing him by the hips.
“What is this?”
“You’re gonna fuck my tits and blow on my face.”
His expression flickers like a broken TV, changing so quick I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Cupping my face, he leans down, his gaze molten. “Mennään naimisiin.”
I laugh, one hand smearing the lube down between my breasts. The heat of his gaze is enough to set me on fire. I will never get enough of this man. He’s going to be the death of me.
RIP Rachel Price, dead from too much amazing sex.
I don’t know what time it is. I don’t care. Our sexathon is finally over, and Mars is sated. His head rests on a pillow on my lap as I gently stroke his hair back from his face. One of his heavy arms lays over my thighs, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin.
“Tell me about this one,” I murmur, my finger stroking the tattoo on his shoulder.
He hums low, clearing his throat. “The bear?”
I turn my head a little, looking down at it. I suppose it’s a bear. It’s demonic looking, with a skull face and flaming eyes, exaggerated claws. But now I see the pattern of feathered pine trees. “Mhmm.”
“That’s Otso,” he says, his deep voice muffled by the pillow. “He is the spirit of Bear, king of the forest. Sacred to Finns.”
“And the skull demon wearing the crown?” I say, my hand brushing lower toward the middle of his back.
“That’s Tuoni, god of death, lord of the underworld.”
“This tattoo is important to you,” I murmur, my hand smoothing over his blackened skin. He doesn’t respond. Of course, it is. “When did you get it?”
“When my mother died,” he replies, his body still.
“You were seventeen.”
He nods. Pushing off my lap, he sits up, his massive frame dwarfing mine as he leans against the headboard.
“How did she die? You said cancer at dinner…”
“Yes. It was a rare brain cancer. She went quickly, for which I’m grateful.”
“And your stepfather kept you?”
He huffs, shaking his head. “Juhani was never my stepfather. Mother never married after Halla.”
“Then—”
“He was her neighbor,” he replies before I can ask my question. “My mother grew up in the house next to the Kinnunen’s. She and Juhani were the same age, they went to school together before he started his junior hockey career. They were friends.”
I lean against his shoulder, letting my fingers brush down his bare chest. “Were they sweethearts?”
He glances down at me, his arm going around me with his hand on my head, fingers stroking my hair. “They never discussed it with me openly…but I think not.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I believe Juhani has no interest in women. Even now, he has never married. He was at mother’s funeral. He was already playing for the Liiga at the time. He helped me sell mother’s house. I moved in with the Kinnunen’s that summer. Just before I began with the Liiga, I took Juhani’s name. I haven’t looked back.”
“You call him your father? He raised you?”
“Not quite,” he mutters. “I knew him through my youth, certainly. We saw each other at holidays and family events. But he didn’t raise me.”
“But…you told Halla he did,” I say gently, my fingers now stroking his arm.
He goes still. “I don’t want to talk about Halla.”
But I’m not ready to let this drop. It’s so rare that Ilmari opens up. And I need to know. Need to understand. “He abandoned you. In the divorce, he left?”
“Yes.”
“Did you never see him again?”
“I never wanted to,” he replies, shifting away from me.
“Mars—”
“He began reaching out in earnest after I joined the Liiga,” he says, getting off the bed. “He wanted to know why the money he sent every month was no longer being accepted. Mother took care of it, you see. I never knew he sent money.”
I roll onto my knees facing him. “But surely, the fact that he never stopped supporting you financially—the fact that he’s reaching out now—”
He turns sharply around to face me, still gloriously naked. “Is he?”
Shit. “Mars—”
“Is he reaching out, Rachel?” he presses. “He’s certainly not reaching out to me. So, I must assume he is reaching out to you. Is Halla asking about me?”
Letting my shoulders drop, I shrug. “He just wants an update—”
“I do not want a relationship with that man,” he growls, snatching his boxer briefs off the floor and slipping them on.
“I haven’t told him anything,” I quickly assure him. “I wouldn’t do that without your permission, Mars. Never—”
“But you want to,” he huffs. “You want to tell him of my progress.”
“My parents split too,” I say. “Divorce is always awful. And parents can make terrible choices. But I know that if I never gave my dad a second chance—if I didn’t learn to forgive—”
“You want me to forgive Halla for abandoning me?” he growls. “He deprived me of ever having a father.”
“And he will carry that shame and that pain to his death,” I say quickly, tears in my eyes. “But Mars, I know him. I’ve worked closely with him for two years. I’m not saying you have to forgive him, or let him in. All I’m saying is that life is long…and the hate you carry is a heavy burden. Maybe there’s hope for a future where you learn to put it down.”
“You want me to forgive him,” he says again, his face a mask of frustration.
“No,” I say, crawling to the edge of the bed and holding out my hands to him.
He stays back, glaring down at them.
“I care about you, Ilmari. Your happiness, your future, your peace of mind. Hating him hurts you. It’s a wound you carry. And I’m a doctor. I can’t help but want to heal a wound when I see it,” I add with a shrug.
His shoulders relax a little as he steps in, taking my hands in both of his. Slowly, he lifts them up, placing kisses on my knuckles. “I have lived so long with this hate,” he admits, his voice soft.
I nod, lifting one hand away to stroke his face. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you have to live with it forever. And I’m here for you. I’ve got strong shoulders too. I can help you carry it…if you want,” I add softly.
He cups my face, his gaze tender as he looks down at me. Slowly, he nods. The wound isn’t healed. Not by far…but it’s a start.
It turns out Ilmari is something of a skin care snob. I’ve been in his bathroom for the last half hour, treating myself to some kind of Nordic charcoal face mask. I peek around the corner of the open bathroom doorway and see his bare legs stretched out on the bed. Last I checked, he was reading his e-book and popping raspberries like candy.
As I rinse the mask off my face, the doorbell rings.
“Are you expecting someone?” he calls from the other room.
“No,” I garble back, my face sudsy as I scrub off the charcoal mask.
I’m about to pop the cap off a fancy European toner product when I hear him shouting.
“Rakas!” There’s a sense of urgency to his tone.
I hurry out of his bedroom into the main living area. Mars is standing shirtless at his front door, not the back, arms crossed over his muscled chest. I peek past him to see Jake, Caleb, and the dog on the other side of the door. Poseidon presses his nose against the glass, yipping as he sees me. I can’t help but smile.
“How do they know where I live?” Mars mutters.
“We can hear you, asshole!” Jake huffs. “Seattle, make him open the door.”
“For the record, I had nothing to do with this,” Caleb calls.
“Yeah, it was all Sy’s idea,” Jake adds.
Poseidon yips again, whining as he dances at their feet.
“How do they know, Rakas?” Mars says again.
“Because I told them, obviously,” I reply. “Mars, just open the door.”
“Come on,” Jake calls. “The ice cream is melting!”
With a heavy sigh, Mars unlocks the door and stands back. Poseidon comes blasting in, desperate to get to me.
“Hi, my angel puppy,” I coo. “Who’s the bestest boy in the whole world?”
“That would be me,” Jake teases. “I brought ice cream.” He holds up a bulging plastic grocery bag. “Mars grab the spoons.”
“Why are you here, Compton?” Mars mutters, his arms once again crossed.
“Coach just sent over the tapes for review for Tuesday’s game,” he replies, helping himself to Ilmari’s kitchen as he digs out the spoons. “We figured we’d watch it with you.” He glances around the living area. “You do have a TV, right?”
With another sigh, Mars walks over to the living room and picks up a remote. Giving it a click, a TV magically emerges from within a piece of furniture.
“Cool,” Jake says, watching the TV go up.
Meanwhile, Caleb fishes the ice creams out of the bag. “Come grab yours, Hurricane—”
“No way,” Jake growls. “Not so fast. Mars, get over here.”
Caleb groans, shaking his head with laugh.
“What’s wrong?” I say.
“Cay’s just trying to steal my thunder,” Jake replies. “He doesn’t believe in my superpower.”
“It’s not a superpower,” Caleb huffs.
“It is! Stop trying to take this away from me.”
“What’s going on?” I say, my gaze darting between them.
Jake turns to me. “Oh, he’s just mad because he doesn’t believe me when I say I have the magic ability to match every person to their favorite ice cream flavor on a look. It’s like a sixth sense,” he says with a shrug. “So, Mars, get over here and prove me right so I can rub it in Caleb’s face.”
Mars looks to me for help, but I just gesture him forward with a grin.
Jake snatches up the four pints of ice cream and lines them up in a row on the island bar. “Okay, Mars, pick one.”
I step up next to Mars, my arm around his waist, as I lean in to read the labels: chocolate peanut butter, lemon sorbet, pistachio, and mint chocolate chip. There’s utter silence in the kitchen as Mars deliberates. With a shrug, he reaches out and picks up the pistachio ice cream.
“Fuck,” Caleb mutters.
“Ha—yes! I fucking told you,” Jake cheers.
“That is the stupidest superpower ever,” he jabs, snatching up his mint chocolate chip. With his free hand he holds out the sorbet for me, leaving Jake his chocolate peanut butter.
“You’re just mad because you don’t have one,” Jake teases, snatching up a spoon.
“Are they always like this?” Mars mutters, his ice cream forgotten in his hand as he watches them make themselves entirely at home in his living room, moving the ottoman and rearranging pillows.
“Yes,” I reply.
He looks utterly defeated as he takes his ice cream and joins them. I’m not in the mood for my sorbet just yet, so I slip it into the freezer, grabbing a glass of water instead.
“Come on, Seattle Girl,” Jake calls, flipping a pillow down on his lap and patting it.
Smiling like a loon, I take in my guys all sitting in Ilmari’s living room eating their ice cream. Poseidon has already helped himself to a stretch of the rug, lying flat out on the floor. Stepping over the dog, I drop down onto the couch between Jake and Ilmari.
Jake pats the pillow in his lap again. “Come here, baby.”
With a grateful sigh, I lay on my side, letting my freshly blow-dried hair fan out across the pillow on Jake’s lap. I curl my legs up too, nestling my feet in against Ilmari’s thigh. Ilmari works the TV remote, connecting it to his laptop so he can stream the game footage on the big screen.
I lay with my head in Jake’s lap, smiling as he pauses every couple bites to stroke my hair. The guys all watch the game footage, quickly absorbed in pointing out plays to each other and talking strategy. All the while, Jake reassures us both with soft touches. I know it was his idea to come over. He just needs to be where I am. The feeling is mutual. Caleb may not say anything, but I know he feels the same.
I need Ilmari to want this too. I need him to want us. This feeling. This sense of family. My lost and lonely boy. He doesn’t have to be alone anymore. None of us do. A beautiful future rests right in front of us, if only we’re all brave enough to reach out and take it.
