“Your photography is amazing,” I told him as he finally showed me some of his work.
He grimaced and shrugged. “It’s just a hobby.”
“It’s too good to be a hobby.” I sat up a bit on the couch. “You should do a gallery show like I did.”
He laughed. “It’s not that good, Cinderstella.”
“But it is,” I disagreed. As I flipped through his photos, I was blown away by how powerful they were. It was as if he captured his subjects more than ever before. “You’re amazing, Damian. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“I’ve seen Kevin’s work. He’s better.”
“No.” I shook my head. “He’s just different. I can’t explain it, but when I look at your work, it makes me want to cry because it’s so breathtaking.”
A small curve of bashfulness hit his lips. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Make me a promise?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Promise me that when you’re ready, you’ll do a showcase of your work. You’ll share this with the world.”
He laughed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Fine. When I’m ready, I’ll do it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Give me your word.”
“I give it to you.”
I bit my bottom lip. “How much does your word mean to you?” I asked him, echoing one of the first things he’d ever asked me.
“Everything,” he whispered, his stare falling to my lips. Then when his eyes rose once more and locked with mine, he said it louder, “It means everything.” He stood and walked out of the room, then walked back in with his camera in his grip. He gestured it toward me. “May I?” he asked.
I sat a bit straighter and shifted on the cushion. “How should I pose?” I jokingly started tossing my arms around in the air striking ridiculous poses.
“Just be yourself,” he said as he began snapping pictures. I laughed, feeling goofy and a bit shy. He smiled and bit his bottom lip. “Yes,” he whispered. “Just like that.”
I felt a pool of heat fall to the pit of my stomach as I smiled his way, watching him fall into his passion, the same passion I’d watch Kevin partake in my whole life. Even though he never knew his father, it was no secret that pieces of Kevin still existed within Damian’s soul.
And at that moment, with the camera in his hand, Damian appeared happy. Free, even. He looked more like himself than ever before.
Just like that, Damian.
Just like that.
Sometimes, our evening conversations went places I never thought they’d go.
“What do you mean he’s never gone down on you?” Damian asked, looking extremely concerned. “That’s the bare minimum of what a man should be doing to please his woman.”
I shrugged. “We were young when we first hooked up. He said he didn’t like the idea of doing it. Said it was gross and never changed his mind.”
“Only an idiot would say some stupid shit like that. Going down on a woman is like going to your favorite restaurant and finding out it’s a luxury all-you-can-eat buffet.”
I laughed. “You make it sound like Disney World—the happiest place on earth.”
“Trust me, Stella, eating a woman out is guaranteed to be better than any ride at Disney.” He paused and then sat up on his elbows and studied me. “Wait. How many men have you been with before Jeff?”
“None. He’s my one and only.”
His concern grew deeper as he pushed himself to sit up from the couch. “So, not only hasn’t Jeff not gone down on you, but you’ve never, in all your years of life, had a guy go down on you?”
I shook my head.
He sighed and then began to unbutton the cuffs on his button-down and rolled up his sleeves. “All right. Let’s go.”
I sat up on my elbows. “What?”
“I’ve never heard such a depressing thing in my life, so as your husband, I am going to fix this harsh news. I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing.”
“You can’t be serious.” I lightly chuckled even though the butterflies in my stomach were going wild. Of course, he was kidding.
He cocked an eyebrow at me and tilted his head in confusion. “Of course, I’m not kidding.”
My heart was running wild within my chest as I stared at him in complete disbelief.
He grimaced. “Unless you don’t want to—”
“No!” I remarked, shaking my head. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
He stood from the couch and held his hand out toward me. “Your room or mine?”
“Are you sure you don’t want the lights off?” I asked, feeling my nerves building as I sat there in my bra and panties, covering my body.
“I definitely don’t want the lights off,” he said confidently. He sat on the bed. “Now, come sit on my chest.”
I did as he said, feeling chills racing through my system.
“Stella,” he sternly whispered, sitting up as I straddled his lap. I was hovering over his body, making sure not to put my full weight against his chest in fear I would crush him. His hands landed against my waistline. “When I say sit on my chest”—he gave my body a small tug, lowering me more so I was fully sitting on him—“I mean sit on my chest.”
I bit my bottom lip. “What if I hurt you?”
“You can’t hurt me.”
“But—”
“You can’t hurt me,” he repeated with a confidence that somehow turned me on even more than I already had been.
I fully relaxed my body. The more I relaxed against him, the more he smiled. The more he smiled, the more I relaxed. It was wild to me how we worked together in that way. How we both made one another feel safe just by being ourselves.
“Good girl,” he said as he bent forward and traced his tongue against the curve of my breasts which were perked up from my push-up bra. A pool of heat fell between my legs as he called me good girl, making me want to be nothing less than a perfectly obedient student in his classroom.
The fear that I would crush him slowly dissipated with every single kiss that he trailed down my body. He caressed my insecurities, kissing them and massaging them with such awe. I closed my eyes as his hands wandered over me, not avoiding my stomach rolls, not afraid to touch me in places Jeff never explored, not afraid to kiss me with the lights on. What turned me on even more was how I was able to see that he was as turned on as I was. His hardness pressed against my inner thigh, making me want to do nothing more than pull down his boxers and introduce my mouth to his member.
Plus, the way he looked at me…
He looked at me as if I were the sun.
More butterflies formed. I doubted they’d ever go away.
“Now,” he said, lying back, leaving me to straddle him. He looked at me with those eyes that owned my heartbeats and a wicked smile against his lips. “Sit on my face.”
I gasped and laughed at the same time. “What? No way. That’s something for smaller girls.”
“That’s something for all women, including you. Now, like I said. Sit on my face.”
I narrowed my eyes. “As in hover over you?”
He shook his head. “If I wanted you to hover, I would’ve said that.”
I bit my bottom lip. “What if you suffocate?” He laughed, and I swatted his arm. “I’m serious, Damian! What if I’m too heavy?”
He raised himself up and shifted my weight around so my panties were brushing right against his hardness. He began to grind a bit, intensifying the mood by tenfold. His fingers then wrapped around my G-string, and he began to pull them down my thighs. “Stella…believe me when I say this…” His tongue moved to my ear and licked it slowly before he sucked on my earlobe and whispered, “There is nothing about you that is too much for me.” He assured me before taking off my panties and tossing them to the side of the room. “Now,” he warned, lying back down. “Sit.” He lifted my hips a bit without any effort. “On.” He cocked an eyebrow. “My.” He massaged my ass ch
eeks. “Face.”
“I’ll do it if you can make me.”
Without a second of hesitation, he lifted me and placed me against his face. “No hovering,” he warned, noting me resisting a bit. “Relax, Mrs. Blackstone,” he said as my worries melted away. “I got you,” he promised.
I lowered myself completely, gripping my hands on the headboard and—
“Oh, my gosh,” I moaned out, thrown off by what was happening to me. Damian’s arms were wrapped around my thighs as his mouth, his tongue… Oh my goodness, his tongue.
He slid his tongue in and out of me as my hips began to grind against his face. I couldn’t even hold in my moans as he ate me out at a slow pace that sped up without any warning, which led to no complaints from me. He’d go from slowly cherishing my taste to ravishing me as he sighed in pleasure from the meal he was being served.
He loved it, which made me relax even more. I let go of all my worries as his tongue felt so deep inside me. When it wasn’t inside, his lips were sucking my clit, making me twist and turn in pleasure. The headboard began to rock with me, pounding against the wall as I cried out in bliss from the tricks he was performing against me.
“I’m going to… Damian, I’m…” I breathed out, unable to get any complete sentences out as my eyes rolled to the back of my head in euphoria. I didn’t know it could feel like this. I didn’t know this was a thing. I didn’t know—
“Yes!” I cried out as he gripped his hands tighter against my legs. I began to orgasm against his face, my thighs shaking with complete and utter shock from the best—and maybe only—orgasm I’d ever truly experienced. His tongue lapped up and down my lips as if he was trying to drain me of every drop of pleasure, but the more he ate, the wetter I grew as my body shook with an explosive amount of wants and needs.
I wanted him.
I needed him.
“Damian,” I begged, pulling myself back a bit.
His eyes met mine as his face glistened with my wetness all over him.
“Can you…?” I asked.
No other words were needed.
He grabbed me by the waist and flipped me over to the bed. His dilated eyes fell against me as a low growl fell from deep within his soul as he tossed his boxers across the room. He reached into the nightstand and ripped open the condom package. I grabbed the condom from his hand and moved to roll it down his hard, throbbing cock. From my touch, he closed his eyes. I wrapped my hands around his hardness, a bit amazed at the girth of it in my hold.
“Geez, Stella… when you do that… I want you,” he said as he opened his eyes and stared into mine. He lowered himself a bit on top of me and whispered as his lips fell against mine, “I want you so much it’s killing me.”
“I’m yours,” I promised, kissing his lips, feeling his wants as he kissed me back. “All yours,” I swore.
As he slid himself into me, I cried out, not knowing it could feel like that. I didn’t even mean the sex. I meant the connection. The power of wanting someone as much as they wanted you. The power of not needing words to even express that want but allowing your bodies to entangle to do the speaking.
Damian worked my body as if he was working on his most prized possession. He took his time with me as I explored him. We moved in sync. We made love in the same rhythm, to the same beat.
Making love.
So, this was what it felt like to be wanted by someone the same way you craved them.
I’m falling for you…I’m falling…I’m falling…
Those words played on a loop in my mind as he slid in and out of me, each thrust unlocking a part of me that had been caged away for so long.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling…
“I know,” he whispered against my ear as I moaned out his name. Filled with so much emotion. “Me too,” he said as if he could read my mind. As if his thoughts matched my own. As if we were one soul, split between two bodies.
I wasn’t certain that I believed in soul mates, but that night, I believed in us.
And that would be enough for me.
25
Stella
* * *
I woke up in Damian’s bed for the remainder of the week. He taught me everything I’d never known in the bedroom. He twisted my body in ways I didn’t even know bodies could twist. He pleased me—multiple times—before he’d ever received any pleasure of his own. I wasn’t even sure what we were doing, but I loved the way we fell together. Were we dating? Were we friends with benefits? A married couple who had no clue what our feelings were doing?
I tried not to overthink it because, for the first time in a long time, I felt joy. A real joy that wasn’t packed with fake smiles and internal anxiety.
I did, however, start wearing the ring he gave me on our wedding day.
When Christmas morning came, I was almost certain I’d be up before Damian due to my Christmas excitement, but to my surprise, when I rolled over, he was no longer in bed. I sat up and stretched out before stepping into my slippers and hurrying out of the bedroom. I smiled as breakfast aromas hit my nose.
It smelled like fresh pastries and happiness.
As I walked into the kitchen, I found Damian standing in front of the oven with an apron covered in flour. His back was toward me, and he hadn’t heard me enter.
“Merry Christmas!” I exclaimed, making him jump a little before he turned to face me.
“You scared me.” He smiled and walked over to me. Wrapping me in his arms, he pulled me close to his chest and placed his lips against my forehead.
Butterflies formed in my stomach.
Ocean kisses.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, holding me tighter. It felt like more than a friendly embrace. Or maybe that was what I’d hoped for—more than friends.
“I thought you’d still be sleeping in,” he mentioned, heading back to the oven to check on his creation.
“Oh, no. Sleeping in on Christmas was never a thing. When I was a kid, I used to wake Kevin up at four in the morning to open gifts. It’s always been such a special time for me. But today, I did sleep in a little,” I said.
He arched an eyebrow. “It’s four-thirty in the morning.”
“I know!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe I slept so long. Speaking of, what are you doing up?”
“Well, I was finishing part of your Christmas present.” He frowned. “But now everything else isn’t ready. I was going to make you a whole breakfast spread.”
“That’s fine! It smells delicious, though. What is it?”
He reached into the oven with oven mitts and pulled out a tray of scones.
Homemade blueberry scones.
“I didn’t think that Christmas was falling on a Saturday, and the bakery already stopped making holiday orders weeks ago. So, I couldn’t get you your Saturday scones. I figured I’d try my hand at making them.”
My heart…
“You made me blueberry scones?” I asked, stunned.
“Yeah. I’ve never made them before, so I did a few test runs when you were at work last week, but I think I got it down. They aren’t as good as Jerry’s, but—”
“You practiced making scones for me?” I cut in.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to give you crap as part of your gift.” He grimaced and pinched his nose. “But, honestly, I was going to wrap them in a nice blue box and make it presentable. I should’ve considered you might wake up early and—”
Before he could finish, I was standing in front of him, placing my lips against his, kissing him hard, trying to fight the emotions sitting behind my eyes. “This is the sweetest gift ever.”
He laughed. “It’s just scones.”
“No. It’s definitely more than that.”
I kissed him again, seeing if it was more. More than friends. More than an arranged marriage. More than…
He kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my lower back. His fingers massaged my skin, and my hands fell against his chest as we stay
ed interlocked.
“How bad would it be if I took you back to bed for a little while?” he asked.
I smiled. “I could rest a little,” I replied, coy.
“Trust me, Cinderstella. We aren’t about to rest in there.”
He took my hand into his and led me in the direction of our room.
Our room? Was it ours?
Were we an ‘our’?
Be here now, Stella. Don’t overthink.
He was right. We didn’t rest. We fell together, making love in the most passionate way as the white Christmas lights against the window glistened in the darkened room. Every time Damian touched me, it felt romantic, it felt peaceful, it felt right.
Afterward, we lay there completely out of breath, dripping in sweat and breathing heavily. I flopped off from on top of him—because I was no longer afraid of being on top—and panted from my exhaustion.
“That was…” I released a weighted exhalation.
“Yeah,” he replied, complete with his own sigh of pleasure.
We lay there in the darkness, feeling nothing but the light within ourselves, in complete silence for a few moments. Then he looked over at me with a wicked smile resting against his lips. “Do you know what sounds great?” he asked.
I smiled bigger as if I could read his mind. “Blueberry scones.”
We headed to the kitchen naked and grabbed the fresh scones. Damian made a pot of coffee, and then we moved to the dining room. I sat on his lap, and he fed me scones as we cuddled and looked at the beautiful Christmas tree sparkling down the hallway.
“These scones might be better than Jerry’s,” I said, taking another bite.
He laughed. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“No, really. I need this every Christmas morning now.”
“We can make that happen,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”
My overthinking mind came into play, and I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself as I leaned into him and rested my head against his shoulder. “Can I be vulnerable with you for a second and ask you a question?” I murmured.
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