Stella makes a face but then rolls her shoulders.
“Give it your rage,” I tell her.
She starts off slow, barely making contact, but something in her snaps, and she goes at it with all the wild vigor of Animal from the Muppets. I grin at the spectacle. When she’s finished, her hair is mussed and she’s panting, but there’s a gleam in her eyes. “That was fucking awesome.”
“You weren’t half bad,” I tell her, clapping.
“I was awful.” She brushes a lock of hair back with the tip of a drumstick and smiles. “But it was fun to bang the hell out these drums. I totally get Whip now.”
“He’ll be glad to hear that.” I wave her over. “Now, get in my wheelhouse. We’re going to sing.”
Muttering about cat-cow sex, Stella stomps over, recalcitrant and leery. I nudge her with my shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Or you’ll run away screaming,” she says darkly.
“Have I told you how much it turns me on when you’re grumpy?”
“No. But you’re a twisted individual, so I’m not surprised.” She rests her head on my biceps and looks up at me through long, red lashes. “What are we singing?”
“Whenever I want to feel safe or melancholy, I do a Beatles song. If I want to tell the world to fuck off, I go with Nirvana.”
Stella watches me. “Why those two?”
“My mum barely listed to music, but she loved the Beatles. It reminds me of being a child and seeing her smile.”
Stella moves closer, lending me her heat. “You never talk much about your mom.”
I shrug. “There isn’t much to say anymore. I grew up, and she didn’t like the man I became. Thing is, I realized I didn’t much like the woman she was either, so …” I shrug again. “My family now is one of my choosing. And I’m all right with that.”
Slowly, she nods. “And Nirvana?”
My smile is easy. “Kurt is my idol. He was gone by the time I discovered Nirvana, but I still felt close to him.”
“You have a lot in common,” she says softly.
Except I survived and he didn’t. My hand grips the neck of the Strat hard enough to bite into my skin.
Stella kisses the curve of my biceps. “I meant the way you both love music and don’t seem to care about the establishment.”
“Well …” I quirk my lips, “there is that too.”
She sets her shoulders straight and a look of determination fills her eyes. “Nirvana, then.”
It hurts to know she needs to scream at the world right now. I still want to hunt down that asshat of a father and pound him into the pavement. But Stella needs me more.
I practice a few chords. The guitar is tuned perfectly now. “You know ‘Heart-Shaped Box’?”
“Yeah, but not enough to get all the lyrics right.”
“How about the refrain?”
Her nose wrinkles in concentration. “You mean the, ‘Hey, Wayne, I got a new complaint’ part? Sure.”
“It’s, ‘Hey, wait’ but, close enough.” I play the opening, and she jumps a little when the sound of my guitar rolls rich and strong around the loft. “I’ll sing the main verses, and we’ll both do the refrain. Good?”
Looking nervous but excited, she nods. I feel myself growing lighter, surer of every move. That’s what music does to me; I’m hoping it does something pure for her too. “Really bring it. Yell into the mic. It’s just for us here.”
I begin to sing, and Stella squeals, tugging the bottom of my shirt in happiness. Her antics have me laughing through part of the lyrics, which only makes her laugh along too. Nearing the refrain, I smile down at her and wag my brows in encouragement. She takes a deep breath and then lets loose.
She wasn’t exaggerating—she can’t sing. At all. Oh, but the way she gives into the song, her curvy body shaking with energy, is a beautiful sight. I love singing with her, watching her get into it. When I get to the power solo, Stella jumps off the stage and dances around, her arms wide, body spinning.
Her joy flows into me and feeds the music. I’ve had this heady rush many times, performing for thousands and hearing them scream for me. But this is something more. I didn’t know those people; they were faceless masses. Stella is my everything. To perform for her is a gift I never knew I wanted or needed.
The song ends and blends into another. For the first time, I play her my songs, sing my lyrics, sticking to the fast-paced ones so she can keep dancing. When I get to “Apathy,” she whirls around, singing along off-key and with her entire heart. She’s still wearing the blue dress she put on for dinner and the skirt flows around her thighs, flipping up here and there to show teasing glimpses of her pink panties.
I’ve had bras thrown my way, women flash me at concerts. None of that motivated me as much as hoping to catch another peek of Stella’s sweet butt.
She sways her hips—those rounded hips I fell for the moment she stole a kiss and changed my world—when our eyes meet. My fingers trip over the strings, my voice fading. Somehow, we both stop at the same time. Stella’s breasts rise and fall with each panting breath.
My body hums, sweat slick on my skin. She’s flushed pink, dampness making her hair darker along her temples. The tip of her tongue flicks out to lick her lower lip. That’s all it takes to make me hard. Not breaking eye contact, I slip the guitar strap over my head and slowly lower my Strat to its stand.
Stella’s gaze goes hot and hazy. “Take the shirt off.”
My abs clench with sweet pain, as I reach behind my head and grab a handful of shirt before pulling it off. She sways as if I’ve made her weak-kneed and agitated. Heat flares over my skin, my breath growing faster.
It halts altogether when Stella slips her dress off her shoulders and shimmies it to the floor. Her bra flies free next. I groan low and deep at the sight of those rosy nipples all tight and needy.
Her voice is thick with demand. “Get over here, Jax Blackwood.”
In this moment, I am Jax, and he wants to play. Hopping off the stage, I come for her. The satin of her skin slides against my bare chest as I grab hold of her peachy ass and haul her up in my arms. Her mouth is hot and open, her strong thighs clenched around my waist. I feel her kiss behind my knees, around the tip of my cock, which wants in.
Everything gets a bit frenzied. We find the sofa, falling back onto the cool leather, Stella’s soft body on top of mine. I need her. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth. She is air and water and life. I wrap my arms around her slim back and tug her closer even as she’s sliding her tongue deeper, tasting me with impatient licks.
Her little silk panties tear under my grip, and I groan at the wet slide of her sex on my lower abs. Stella reaches between us and yanks at the button of my jeans, then I’m lifting my hips, both of us wriggling to get me free. Her mouth, though, I can’t leave her juicy mouth. Pure lust shoots hot and wild down my spine as she finally, finally, grips my cock.
And then she’s sinking down, gripping me so hot, wet, and tight with her little cunny. I thrust up, bouncing her on my hips, and she undulates, working me how she wants, using me for her pleasure. I love it, love the way her sweet tips jiggle and sway, the plump firmness of her ass in my hands.
She works me faster and faster, her hips snapping. She arches her back, tilting her head to the side, her eyes closed as she concentrates. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
As though she can hear my thoughts, her eyes open and meet mine. Soft lips part as she leans down, wrapping herself around me. I capture those lips and kiss her like I’m dying. We’re moving with disjointed jerks and thrusts, all sensation and no finesse. She feels so good, so slick and hot. I’m not going to last.
“Are you close?” I pant into her mouth. “Tell me what you need.”
But she only moans, her brows furrowing as she grinds on my cock. With a hand that shakes, I fumble in between us and press my thumb on her swollen clit—hard, just the way she likes it—and she detonates, wailing, her body going loose and helpless.
Stella falls into her orgasm, letting it take her, leaving me to handle her body with perfect trust.
The sight of her undone, the rhythmic pulse of her clenching around my cock, has me coming so hard, I forget where I am, who I am. There is only pleasure, and Stella. Always Stella.
I come back to myself in a daze. Stella lays on me, slick and panting, boneless with her release. It takes all my energy to lift my hand and run it through her hair. “If that’s what performing for you gets me,” I tell her on a rasp, “I’ll do it every damn day for the rest of our lives.”
She gives a thready chuckle. “Deal.”
Stella shifts a little and wetness spreads over my thighs. We both stiffen, and Stella lifts her head. I don’t know how to fully read her look. It isn’t horrified but definitely shocked.
“We forgot a condom,” I say quietly.
A guilty half laugh escapes her, even as she flushes deep pink. “I didn’t even think about it.”
My smile is wry, and I tuck a lock of hair back from her cheek. “I didn’t either. That’s … I’ve never done that.” Ever. That protection didn’t even cross my mind is a definite first.
Stella rests her head against my shoulder. “Well, we know we’re clean. I’m on birth control, so …” She trails off.
I’m still inside her, my dick slowly going soft. Now that I know I’m not wearing a condom, my dick stirs with renewed interest. It wants to try that again, slowly, take some time to learn her anew. I tell my dick to shut up.
“Does this mean we can … ah … not use …” I trail off. Shit, I’m such a pig.
Stella looks up at me, hesitant but not pissed. At least not yet. “Do you want to?”
We’re both tiptoeing around the words, neither of us apparently knowing how to just say it. I’ve never had this conversation before. Never wanted to. It feels significant, though. It’s not about the condom—not really—but the fact that we’re discussing how we want to protect ourselves on a more permanent basis.
I press my lips to her head. Of course we’re permanent. I’m totally gone for Stella. “Babe, whatever you want is what we’ll do.”
She wiggles her hip, just enough to make me grunt. There’s a smile in her voice. “I like this. Not having to stop.”
Damn, I like it too. “Then I’ll fuck you without pause from now on,” I tease.
She laughs, and the sound lightens my world.
“Feel better now?” I ask, more seriously.
A sigh leaves her. It’s relaxed and slow. Her hands slide up my sides, leaving shivers in their wake. “Yes. Thank you, John. For taking care of me.”
My throat thickens. “I didn’t do much.”
Blue eyes hold mine. “You did everything that matters.”
We stare at each other. She looks at me with such trust and tenderness that my heart starts to hurt. I want to pull her into me and hide her away from the world, from anything that could ever hurt her. But I know that won’t work. We can’t protect the ones we love; we can only let them know we’ll be there to pick them up when they fall.
The silence between us grows. It isn’t awkward, but filled with something fragile yet heavy. Another shift has rearranged our world, another wall crumbling. Maybe it’s too much for Stella. She turns her head and kisses the crook of my neck, her smile turning coy and teasing. “But maybe we should make sure …”
She doesn’t have to say any more. I roll her onto the couch and thrust. Stella’s laugher turns into another satisfied sigh. This round, I take my time.
* * *
Stella
John takes me home, gives me a bath—curling himself around me as he carefully washes my hair—then takes me to bed. We stay there all the next day, lazing around, indulging in each other. It’s a strange thing, being naked all the time, moving through time in a haze of lust and sex. My body feels different now, hypersensitive yet full and soft and languid. I’m aware of every inch of myself, of him.
God, his body. It’s delicious, solid and tight and warm. I can’t stop touching him. I don’t need to try. The setting sunlight shafts over the bed in golden bands as he reaches for me again. With self-assured ease, he pulls me under him, his mouth finding mine. He hums in appreciation against my lips as he settles between my thighs.
He’s my addiction of choice, making me slowly lose all sense of everything else. There is only him. The press of his hard body against mine, the way he moves against me—a slow rock of his lean hips—is so good, so decadent, I shiver. His erection feels almost heavy as it slides hot and hard over my sex. It will take so little for him to edge back and thrust in. We both know it.
But John studies my face, his eyes taking in every detail. He’s so close, I see the faint scar under his eye, another at the lower corner of his lip. Old, faded marks that tell a story of his life. With a soft touch, he eases a lock of hair away from my cheek.
“John …” I wiggle just a bit, press my sore breasts against his hard chest. “Slide in.” I need it.
A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” God, I’m so hot. I’m shaking with it now.
“You heard me.” He brushes his lips over mine, a tease. “No.”
The round head of his cock kisses my opening before drifting away, and I arch, tight and shivery. “You’re killing me.”
“Good.” All smugness and rocking hips.
“Good?” I glare up at him but can’t hold it, not when I’m panting, not when I’m so empty. “You’re glad that you are torturing me with sex?”
“Mmm …” He ducks his head and slowly licks my nipple. “Proud, even.”
“Sicko. God, do that some more.”
“Shhh …” His teeth nip my breast. “Accept your torture like a good girl, will you?”
“I’m not sure I like you anymore.” My fingers slide through his soft hair, playing with the ends as he suckles just enough to let me feel the heat of his tongue.
I feel his evil smile. “Sure you do.” He kisses his way over to the other breast as his cock grinds against my clit. “Of course, if you really object, you could push me off and take care of business on your own.”
It would serve him right if I did. But he’s too good, and he knows it. Even so, I grab a handful of his hair and gently tug him up. Green eyes find mine. They’re slightly unfocused, slumberous. And I know he’s as affected as I am.
“I’d rather you polish my pearl.” I wiggle my brows. “Canoodle with my kitty.”
A laugh trips from his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I love you.”
He says it so simply, so easily, like it burst forth with utter purity. Yet his body jerks, his eyes going wide. Everything halts, the words hanging between us, this living, breathing thing that takes hold of my heart and grips it tight. He doesn’t speak, but looks at me, his gaze darting over my face as if to gauge my reaction. In truth, he appears slightly horrified. We’re pressed so tightly together I feel every frantic thud of his heart.
“You didn’t mean to say that, did you?” I whisper.
“No.” The confession is a thread of sound.
But I wince as though he’d shouted and duck my head so I don’t have to face him. But he reaches out and cups my cheek, gently lifting my chin. Solemn green eyes hold mine. “But I do.”
Heat prickles over my skin. I can’t breathe. “You love me?”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. “Yeah. For a while now.”
I try to believe it, but I’m afraid to. “You said you wouldn’t fall in love.”
John’s lips curl wryly as his thumb slowly caresses the corner of my mouth. “Stella Button, the moment you ripped that ice cream out of my hand, you knocked me off-balance. All I could do was fall.”
Hope swells within me, surging up like a warm wave. I touch the crest of his cheek, the edge of his jaw, just to feel him. My throat threatens to close in on me. “I love you too.”
John sucks in a sharp breath through his no
se, his exhale just as swift but shaking. “I was kind of hoping you did.” His smile is tremulous. “Never been in love.”
I see the uncertainty in his eyes, the fear. It matches my own. “Me either.”
His smile grows stronger. “I didn’t think it would feel this good.” A laugh trips out of him. “Or this terrifying.”
My answering grin is so wide I feel it in my cheeks. “I thought I was the only one.”
John hums deep within his throat and ducks his head to kiss his way down my neck. “I’m with you, Button. Whatever happens, I’m always with you.” He places a soft kiss on the tip of my nipple before leering up at me. “Now spread those thighs wider and let me fuck you right.”
“So romantic.” But I do as he asks, and he does me right.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
John
“Baby.” Stella nudges my arm that’s curled around her waist, pulling me out of a deep sleep. “The door.”
I’m spooned against her succulent little body so close that we’ve melded, and I don’t want to move. How did I ever sleep without her? My hand cups a full breast and the bead of her nipple hardens against my palm. “Mmm. You want more?” I give her a squeeze. “I can give you more.”
“Not more. Door.”
A grunt leaves me as she wiggles her ass, jostling my dick. “You want back door, babe?” I nudge her with now horny and seriously interested dick. “I’m willing if you are.”
Her voice lightens with humor. “Someone is knocking on the front door, you perv.”
The sound of knocking finally registers, and I lift my head to scowl. We’ve been staying at Killian’s place to keep Stevens company, since the hellcat refuses to enter my apartment. Stella claims it’s because he doesn’t like me. I’m no longer buying that since the fur ball is currently perched on my hip like he’s claimed himself king of the bed. His yellow eyes narrow with a look of disdain as another knock rings out. Apparently, he’s not amused at being disturbed either.
I run a hand over my morning scruff. “Who the hell knocks on the door at …” A glance at the clock has my frown growing. “Nine in the morning? No one I know would visit this early and expect to live.”
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