I Tried to Evict My Three Tenants, So They Moved Into My Bed novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Steam

In the dark sauna Jussi takes her from behind and then in his lap, and cries about the night Ingrid died; she crosses the yard and finds Gunnar's door open and a coil of rope in his hands.

The sauna was dark and cedar-sweet, and Jussi threw a ladle of water on the stones before I had finished shutting the door.

The steam hissed and rose.

"Loyly," he said happily.

"That's what Ingrid's husband called it. Erik. I can't pronounce it right, and I've been trying for ten years."

"Jussi," I said.

"Sorry."

"Take your towel off."

He took it off.

He stood in the glow of the little stove light, broad and sunburned to the collar and white below it.

Red-brown hair covered his chest, and his cock was already hard against his stomach.

He looked terrified and delighted at once.

"I talk when I'm nervous," he said.

"I noticed."

"I'll shut up."

"Don't," I said.

"Just don't talk while I do this."

I dropped my own towel and knelt on the lower bench in front of him.

I took him in my hand.

He was hot in my palm, and the skin was smooth and tight and slick at the tip.

I licked the slit once, slowly, and tasted salt.

He made a noise I had only ever heard from a man lifting something too heavy.

"Holy," Jussi said.

"Holy, holy, Mari."

I took the head into my mouth and sucked, and his hands dove into my hair.

He did not push.

He held on, shaking.

I took him deeper a little at a time, my hand working the base, until he touched the back of my throat.

"Oh my God. Stop. Stop, stop."

I pulled off with a wet sound.

He was breathing hard, his face red and his eyes shut.

"Not like this," he said.

"I've thought about it for eight months, every night, in my bed, with the door shut. If you keep doing that, I'll finish before I get there."

"Then where?" I asked.

"You first," Jussi said.

He took me by the waist and laid me back along the lower bench.

The cedar was hot against my spine.

He knelt on the floorboards between my knees and pushed them wide.

"I'm going to be bad at this," he warned me.

"I'm going to be loud, and I don't have his patience."

"Jussi."

"I just want you to know I'm going to try really hard," he said.

He put his mouth on me.

He was not bad at it.

He was eager and wet and relentless, and he moaned into me, and the vibration climbed my spine.

His beard scraped the inside of my thighs.

His tongue flattened and swept and flicked.

Two thick fingers pushed inside me and curled, and he hummed.

"Taste so good," he said, between licks.

"Taste like you, Mari. I could do this all night."

I grabbed his hair with both hands and rode his face without a shred of shame.

I came fast and loud, bucking against his mouth.

He groaned and kept licking me through every wave of it.

Then he wiped his chin on my thigh and grinned up at me.

"I told you I'd try," he said.

"Get up here," I said.

"First Erik's rule," Jussi said.

He reached for the bundle of birch twigs soaking in the bucket and shook it out.

"Every guest in the sauna gets whisked. Lie on your stomach. Please."

I lay face down on the hot cedar, and he drew the wet leaves slowly down my back.

The smell of birch rose up, green and sharp.

He struck me lightly across the shoulders, then the backs of my thighs, and the heat raced under my skin wherever the leaves touched.

I groaned into my arm.

"Like that?" he asked.

"Don't stop."

He whisked me from my neck to my ankles, and then back up the insides of my legs, and the leaves brushed between them.

I arched and begged him in a voice I did not know.

"Turn around," Jussi said at last, and his voice had gone low and rough.

"I need to see you from behind."

I turned around on the bench.

I put my hands flat on the warm cedar of the upper ledge and my knees on the lower one.

I looked back at him over my shoulder.

Sweat ran between my shoulder blades.

Jussi stared.

"Look at you," he said, and his voice broke.

"I am the luckiest man in Oregon."

He put his big hands on my hips.

They were rough with rope and salt, and he held me carefully.

Then the head of his cock slid through my wetness, and he groaned out loud.

"Jussi."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

He pushed in.

It was slow and thick, and it stretched me almost too much.

I dropped my head and breathed through it, and he stopped halfway with a shudder.

"Okay?" he said, in a thin voice.

"If you stop now, I'll kill you," I said.

He laughed, helplessly, and slid the rest of the way home.

We both cried out.

He was so deep that I felt him low in my stomach, full and hot.

The cedar burned under my palms, and the steam made everything slick.

"God, you're tight," he said.

"You're so wet. You feel so good."

"Move," I said.

He moved.

He started out too careful, long slow strokes, and I pushed back against him until he caught the message.

His hips snapped forward, and the sound of it filled the little room.

His hands tightened on my hips, and he fucked me harder.

I held on to the ledge and heard myself saying his name in a high ragged voice.

"That's it, Mari," Jussi said.

"Give it to me."

"Harder," I said.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Harder, Jussi."

He gave it to me.

The bench creaked under my knees, and the water on the stones popped in the heat.

His breath sobbed in and out behind me.

He slid one hand around my hip and down between my legs.

His thick fingers found my clit and rubbed in tight circles, clumsy and warm and exactly right.

"Come on," he muttered.

"Come on, baby. I want to feel you go."

I came with a shout.

My pussy clamped down on him and kept pulsing.

He swore and held perfectly still inside me, his forehead against my spine, until it passed.

"Don't move," he said.

"Not yet. If you move, I'm done."

"Then let me make it harder for you," I said.

I clenched on him, once, and he swore in Finnish.

"Mari, no. Mari, please."

"Pull out," I said. "Turn me around. Pick me up."

He pulled out with a groan, and I felt the loss of him everywhere.

He scooped the ladle full of water and poured it over my shoulders.

It ran down my back in the heat, and he followed it with his mouth, down my spine, one slow wet kiss at a time.

I turned and put my back against the hot cedar wall.

He bent his knees and got his arms under my thighs.

He lifted me with my legs hooked over his forearms and my shoulders flat to the boards.

"Tell me you can hold on," he said.

"I'm holding," I said.

"Look at me."

I looked.

His face was wet with sweat and steam and tears, and he was grinning.

He pushed into me standing, in one long stroke, and I screamed at the ceiling.

The angle was brutal and wonderful.

He was so deep I could feel his hips against the backs of my thighs.

He fucked me against the wall with his whole body, his beard in my neck and his breath sawing in my ear.

"You're so wet," he said.

"You're so hot, and I'm so far in you, and you're mine. Say it again."

"Yours," I said. "Jussi, yours, harder."

He gave it to me until the cedar rattled in its nails.

I came with my head knocking the wall and my nails raking his shoulders.

He shouted, and his knees shook, and he stopped, because he had to.

"Sit," I said, laughing breathlessly against his ear.

"Sit down before you drop me."

He let me down and sat on the lower bench.

He dropped back against the wall of the sauna.

I climbed into his lap and sank onto him again, facing him this time, my knees on either side of his thighs.

Now I could see his face.

His eyes were wet.

"Hey," I said.

"I'm okay. I'm great. I'm fine."

A tear ran down into his beard.

"She told me you'd leave," he said.

"Ingrid, the last winter," he said.

"She told me, you watch, that girl's got my feet, she'll stay one winter and then she'll run. She said I'd better not get attached."

"She said that to you?" I asked.

"I got attached the second week," Jussi said.

He laughed and cried at the same time, and his arms went around my back.

"I called you the night she died," he said.

"Three in the morning. You didn't answer, and I thought, she doesn't want to come."

"My phone was dead," I said.

"I was on the interstate with a broken charger. I drove all night and got here at seven, and the door was open, and you were all in the kitchen."

I put my forehead against his.

"I wanted to come, Jussi. I wanted to come so badly."

He shut his eyes.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay. Okay."

I kissed him.

It was slow and wet and tasted of salt, and I started to move on him, rocking, in no hurry.

His hands moved up my back.

His mouth moved down my throat.

"You feel like home," he whispered.

"Don't make me cry," I said.

"Too late."

I rode him in the heat, slowly, with his cock moving thick and deep inside me.

My breasts slid against his chest.

He sucked my nipple, and I tightened around him, and he groaned and pushed up to meet me.

The pleasure built from the base of my spine and rolled outward.

"Jussi," I said.

"I've got you."

"Say it."

"Mine," he said, and then, quickly, "Ours. You're ours, Mari, and I'm yours. I am so yours."

"Yours," I said, and came again, long and hard, with my mouth open on his shoulder.

He followed me.

His whole body went rigid, and he shouted my name at the cedar ceiling.

I felt him pulse deep inside me, hot and fast, over and over.

We stayed like that, slick and shaking, for a long time.

He stroked my hair back from my face.

He kissed my forehead, my eyelids and my nose, and he kept saying thank you under his breath.

At last I untangled myself and stood on legs that would hardly hold me.

I wrapped myself in Ingrid's old terry robe, the one that still hung on the hook by the door.

Jussi lay back on the bench with his arm over his eyes, grinning at the ceiling.

"Go on," he said.

"He's been waiting longer than any of us."

"Who?" I asked.

"The one who doesn't say," he said.

I crossed the wet yard in the dark, barefoot and steaming, with the rain on my face.

The kitchen light was still on.

I climbed the back stairs to the second floor and stopped in the hall.

Gunnar's door stood open.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed in his gray sweater with a coil of old manila rope in his hands.

He looked up at me.

He had plainly been watching the door for an hour.

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