In that way, Stella and I are alike. The future is a dark, nebulous place that I’ve never wanted to contemplate. Mostly because when I think of it, I see myself alone, irrelevant, and adrift. I tell myself I don’t mind being alone. At this point, I’ve been on my own more than half my life. But after the music stops and the friends are off doing their own thing, all I feel is empty. I’ve tried to fill that hole with constant partying, hookups, traveling from place to place. But it’s still there.
I don’t want that for Stella either. She’s too full of joy and life to feel adrift. “If you could have anything you wanted, anything and money is no object, what would it be?”
She’s silent for a while, clearly thinking the question over. Then she speaks, hesitant, as if the admission costs her. “A home. Something permanent. Something that’s mine.”
I ache for her. “What would it look like?”
She shifts a little, settling in more comfortably. “In the city. A house on a little street, where it’s private but close to everything. An older house with character and charm, and a rooftop garden to plant tomatoes and flowers, and I can soak in the sun.”
I can practically see it. “And a woodburning fireplace,” I add. “You have to have that so you can curl up and read on cold nights.”
“Sounds like heaven,” she says with a sigh.
I picture her there, in that cozy home, filled with books and flowers and music. Filled with the light of Stella. “Yes, it does.”
“I envy you,” she says before I can speak again.
“Why?” I hope she doesn’t mean the fame because that is a double-edged sword.
“Are you kidding me? You have this incredible talent and are at the top of your profession. Do you know how rare that is?”
I do. Or I thought I did. Funny thing is, it takes Stella’s quiet awe to really hammer that home. Even so, I have to be honest with her. “It seems to me that you can have one aspect of your life in perfect order and the rest can be going up in flames.”
“You’re right,” she says in a small voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“I didn’t mean my issues.” I husk out a short laugh. “Though I admit, I have my share. But that’s the thing. All the people I know in my profession have shit they need to work on. One form of success doesn’t guarantee other forms, you know?”
She turns her face into the crook of my shoulder. “Yes. Because this part of my life? Right now? Freaking awesome.”
“I’m feeling pretty good right now,” I agree. Especially when Stella slides her bare thigh over mine. A thought races into my deviant mind: what if she isn’t wearing panties? Like that, my hand starts drifting south, sliding down the gentle slope of her back, seeking the soft curve of her ass. Because I have to know. I have to know.
Stella moves into my touch, delicately arching that sweet arse of hers toward my hand. Good girl, Stella is. The best girl. She’s a juicy handful, and I give her a soft, appreciative squeeze as my fingertip traces the line of her panties.
Damn.
Her panties are soft cotton, which somehow turns me on more than if I’d found her bare or in silk. I can’t see them, but in my mind those little panties are pale pink with a big red heart front and center. It gets me so hot, my entire body clenches tight.
She feels it. I know she does because she’s turning further toward me, her breasts pushing against my ribs. “You’re copping a feel, mister.”
“Can’t help it. If you’re within touching distance, I will get handsy.” Tight with anticipation, I turn onto my side, sliding down a little until we’re face to face. And the fucking sofa-bed from hell screeches in protest. This time, we both freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes as the seconds eek by.
An impish smile plays over her lips. “I never snuck around with a boy as a teen, but I kind of feel like I’m doing that right now.”
Truth is, while I don’t relish the idea of getting caught by Hank, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. But pretending it would be, sneaking around with Stella like we’re a pair of naughty teens, is surprisingly fun. I’ve never had to fear getting caught. I had no idea how it could make every touch, every breath, mean more. How fucking hot it could get me.
With the tip of my finger, I ease back a lock of hair that’s fallen over her cheek. “I think we were missing out.”
Her eyes light up, and I know she wants to play. That gets me even hotter.
“We’ll have to make up for that.” She strokes the line of my neck, light and drifting like she doesn’t have a destination in mind but just wants to touch. “I mean, this isn’t my parents’ house. But it could be. If Hank walked in and found me here—”
My mouth is on hers, relearning the plush, sweet swell of her bottom lip, taking a little sip of her upper lip. I don’t remember moving, or even deciding to kiss her. But I don’t stop. I kiss her softly, loving the way it makes her shiver. I kiss her cheek, the curve of her jaw. My hand cups the back of her head as I kiss her neck and then find her mouth again.
Her fingers comb through my hair, massaging my scalp. It feels so good, so damn good. I rest my forehead against hers as I toy with the collar of her shirt. “Will you be grounded if we’re caught, Button?”
“Maybe,” she whispers, arching her back just enough to lift her tits up.
She’s wearing an old Knicks T-shirt. Slowly, I trace the “K” and graze the stiff tip of her nipple. Stella’s breath catches. I run my finger back up, teasing. But it teases me too, and I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning, from dropping the game and just taking her.
“You’re so pretty here.” My knuckles caress the curve of her breast. “Can I see you bare, sweet Stells? Will you give me a peek?”
I’ve seen her breasts before. I’ve had my hands on them, my mouth on them. Fucking heaven. But here in the dark, in this house that isn’t mine or hers, it’s different. It’s a simple thrill that gets to me more than any full-on sex I’ve ever had.
I don’t know what it does for Stella, but she makes a little noise, her body shifting on the bed like she’s struggling to keep herself still. Her voice is breathy and innocent as if she’s unsure. “Just a peek?”
Damn, she knows how to play. My dick is so hard, it hurts. “I won’t put a hand on you, I swear.” And I won’t. If I touch her now, it’ll be game over. “Give me a little look at those pretty tits, honey.”
In the dark room, she’s illuminated by the greenish streetlight spilling through the window, so I can’t tell if she’s flushing. But her lids lower as her lips part, and the swells of her breasts lift in an agitated breath. Her hands are clumsy as she reaches down and grabs the hem of her shirt. My balls tighten in anticipation.
God, she’s sexy, wiggling her hips to get the shirt clear of her ass. Then it’s sliding up over those curves. Her panties don’t have a heart on them. They’re covered in tiny polka dots. I want to touch each one with my tongue. I hold myself still as the soft swell of her little belly and the quarter moon of her navel are exposed. She’s a peach, lush and ripe.
Stella goes slowly, drawing it out. By the time the plump curves of her lower breasts are exposed, I’m sweating. She pauses there, her eyes meeting mine. The moment holds, expands until I can feel it pressing against my skin.
“Show me,” I rasp, not recognizing my own voice.
Stella bites her lower lip, glancing at me from under lowered lids. She’s killing me, and she knows it. I love that. With a small sound, she eases the top over her breasts.
And there she is, full, round tits capped with tawny nipples that point upward. Freckles dust the expanse of her chest, I know, but they’re hidden in the shadows. I want to turn on a light just to see them, but I don’t move. My fingers curl tight to keep from reaching out. “You’re beautiful. You know that? Absolutely gorgeous.”
Stella stretches as if luxuriating in the feel of her body being on display, like she’s as tight and hot as I am. Hands still clutching her shirt, she gazes
back at me, her breasts lifting and falling with each shallow breath she takes.
“You like me looking at you, sweet Stella?”
She licks her lower lip. “Yeah.”
Before my eyes, her nipples pucker and harden to rosy buds.
My fingers grip the sheet. “Look at those pretty nipples getting so stiff. Are they aching, baby?”
I know she’s blushing. I can feel the heat coming off her. When she speaks, it’s a crackle of sound. “Yes.”
“Give those honey tips a pinch,” I whisper thickly.
I love her strangled moan like I’ve shocked the hell out of her.
She hesitates, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far, but then her hands ease down over her breasts. I bite back a groan, refusing to even blink. Delicately, she grasps her nipples and squeezes, her head falling back on a gasp.
My reaction is visceral, a punch of white-hot heat straight down my dick, and I have to press my hard-on into the bed to ease the ache. “God. God, do that again.”
She does. Her lashes flutter as she tugs on her tits.
“So beautiful. You’re perfect.” My voice gravel in the dark. Her thighs shift against each other, impatient, needy. I watch the action. “Are you wet, honey?”
“Mmm.” She bites her bottom lip.
“Put your hand in your panties and feel how wet you are.”
Stella exhales in a rush, her body jerking. “Oh, God.” She doesn’t look at me as she reaches down. Her eyes close, a knot forming between her brows like she’s in pain. When her hand slips under the front of her cotton panties, she gives a little mew of distress. “So wet. John, I’m so wet.”
I nearly lose it right there. For a second, we both just breathe, Stella with her eyes closed and her hand cupped around herself, me watching on, knowing she’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Will you let me watch you?” I ask her. “I want to see you get yourself off.”
“You … you don’t want to touch me?” she whispers back, her body trembling.
“I want to touch you so badly it hurts.” I swallow hard. “But I promised I would keep my hands to myself.”
“John.” She’s half laughing, half glaring at me. “You’re evil.”
I grin, but it quickly slides away, and my voice turns urgent. “Show me. Show me how you like it. Show me so I’ll know exactly what to do to you when we get home.” Because the second I have her alone in my house, all bets are off.
“Okay,” she says, “but you have to show me too.”
Heat licks down my spine. “You want me to come for you?”
Rain patters against the windows as Stella’s wide eyes stare back at me. “You ever do that before? Jerk off in front of someone?”
I’ve had a lot of sex. Done a lot of crazy shit, some of it fun, some of it that left me feeling seedy and questioning my choices. But I can answer her honestly. “No one has ever asked me to.”
Usually, women want to do that for me. They’d jerk me off or suck me dry while telling me repeatedly that they can’t believe they’re touching Jax Blackwood’s dick. That got old real fast, and I learned to mentally detach myself from my partners. I’m not detached now. If anything, I’m so part of the moment, it’s almost too much.
Before, I’d have said jerking off, or seeing a woman masturbate, was just another sex act. Contemplating doing it with Stella, I realize it’s not. It takes trust to really open yourself up, lay yourself bare. Suddenly, I feel exactly like the teen I’m pretending to be, because I know fuck-all about true intimacy.
The back of my neck draws tight. “We don’t have to,” I whisper, “if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m nervous.” She gives me a wobbly smile that makes me want to kiss her. “I’ve never done this before. But I want to with you.”
So much braver that I am. Before I can confess that, she drags her panties down her hips. I stare for too long, my mouth likely hanging open like a panting dog. But then I snap out of it and fumble with my boxer briefs. I’m so hard that my dick snags on the fabric and slaps into my stomach when I free it.
Stella giggles.
That sound. It bubbles over my skin, trips my heart. I love that sound. I’m smiling back, chuckling low in my chest until I catch sight of her. Panties around her knees, shirt bunched up at her collar, and every glorious, lush inch in between on display. For me.
I want to know if her little patch of hair is red-gold too. I’m desperate to find out. Desperate to know all her colors, her flavors, the scent and texture of her skin. I almost ask—beg—to turn on the light, but my voice gets lost, my brain scrambling, when she parts her thighs and slides her hand between them.
“I like it soft at first.” The tips of her fingers glide along the swollen bud of her sex as her other hand trails over her nipple. “A barely there tease that makes me want more.”
She shifts her hips, chasing her own finger, and I swear to all that’s holy, I whimper.
“Usually,” she murmurs, “I do this until I feel slick. But I’m so wet now—”
“Jesus,” I exhale in a rush. “I can hear it. I hear your fingers sliding over that wet pussy.”
Stella’s breath hitches. Her gaze collides with mine, all heat and dazed lust. “You’re supposed to be doing this with me.”
Frankly, I’m afraid if I touch my dick now it will explode, but I did promise. My hand freaking shakes as I lift it to my mouth. Hell, I love the way her eyes go wide when I give my palm a slow lick before I take myself in hand. I’m hot to the touch and so hard my dick is sore. I give myself a squeeze to ease the pressure before I rasp, “I start slow and firm, like I’m pushing into a woman.”
Stella nods, watching with an avid interest that lights me up. Her thighs part just a fraction, as if she isn’t really aware of doing it, and I almost roll over and sink into her. It would be so easy, so good. But I don’t. Because she wants this experience, and as worked up as I am, I want it too.
“What do you think about?” she asks in the dark. “When you do it?”
“You.” I’m stroking faster now, getting into a rhythm. “Since that first night, it’s only been you.”
She moans, her head lolling on the pillow. She’s working herself faster too, moving her fingers in harsh, sloppy circles, abusing her little kitty. The urge to kiss it all better has me leaning closer. Our breaths mingle as we pant. I’m jacking my dick hard now, the tension in me building.
“Tell me,” she says. “Tell me what you imagine.”
For a second, I blank out. I’m going to disappoint her. She’ll have expectations. But her eyes are full of desire and trust. She looks at me like I’m the best thing she’s ever seen. Me, not the shell or the name. It flays me open and raw. It heightens my awareness of everything, the rumpled sheets around my legs, the sweat trickling down my back, the friction of my hand along my dick and the sound it makes. My breath saws in and out, drying my mouth.
I lick my lips. “Truth?”
Her answer is a husk of sound. “Always.”
“I think of watching myself slide into you. Imagine sinking into your heat.” My voice goes rougher, my balls drawing up tight and sweet. “That first push when I take you, knowing that you’re letting me. That’s is. I think of having you. Finally, fucking having you. That’s the moment I dream about.”
She moans, her lips parting weakly.
“Oh, fuck, Stells, please come. Come for me, honey.”
She does. And she’s so damn beautiful, I can’t speak. Her lip is caught between her teeth, her thighs clenched around her hand, a silent scream pinching her features. She arches her back, thrusting her tits high, those gorgeous tits. I can’t help myself. I swoop down and capture a nipple with my mouth, sucking hard.
Stella jolts with a small cry and pushes against me, silently demanding more. I suck her like a man starved. I don’t even realize I’m coming until I feel it hot and wet on my hand, hitting my stomach. For a long moment, I slump on her, my mouth open and panting against
her trembling breast. I give her a lingering lick that makes her whimper before I roll away, landing on my back with a heavy exhale.
We lay there, both of us breathing hard in the silent dark. Rain taps at the windows, the room still as if nothing happened, as though my world didn’t turn over on its head. Stella moves, righting her clothes with clumsy fumbles. I grab a tissue from the box sitting on the side table and wipe myself off, aware that she’s watching me do it. Weird how I find that sexy too.
“Wow,” she says softly, and I know she isn’t talking about my cleaning up.
I toss the tissue into the trash can, pull up my boxers, and roll onto my side to face her. She’s staring up at the ceiling, her hair mussed. As if feeling my gaze, she turns her head and a small smile quirks her lips. She doesn’t say anything, just looks.
“Stells.” My fingers trace the curve of her jaw. Her skin is warm and damp, and I cup her cheek before resting my head on a pillow.
She moves my way, cuddling close. She smells of sex and sweat and something freshly sweet. I draw it in, closing my eyes. Why does this feel so good? Just this.
I need to find a way to hold onto this feeling, to keep it safe. I have no idea how to do that. It feels essential that I learn.
“John?”
“Yeah?” I toy with her satiny hair, twisting a strand around my finger.
“If we don’t fuck each other’s brains out when we get home, I’m going to have to kill you.”
I stiffen for a second, then burst out laughing, trying to keep it low. She squeezes my side, and I lean further into her. “Fuck yeah, we are, Button.”
Like that, I’m counting down the minutes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stella
“I hope you slept well, Jax.” Corinne sets a mug of coffee on the table for him.
At my side, Hank grunts and cuts a glare at John. I bite the inside of my mouth. Last night, we’d fallen asleep wrapped up in each other, only to wake with Hank standing over John, giving him the stink eye. “I don’t know why I bothered.”
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