Discovering Stella

by K. M. Golland

  “Give it more time. Your emotions are still very raw.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes, snuggling into his neck. “I hope you’re right, but I just don’t think it’s possible.”

  “I do,” he countered, softly rubbing his chin across the top of my head. “You’re such a beautiful and giving person, Stella. You’ll forgive him when you’re ready. That may be next week, or it may be next year. Either way, you’ve got it in you to forgive.”

  Tilting my head back, I gazed into his eyes, drinking in the sincerity of his words. He truly believed I could find it within myself to forgive Tristan for destroying my life. It gave me hope, just a little ... but it was more than I alone could harness. Yet, if Lawson was so convinced that I could do the unthinkable and forgive, then perhaps I could.

  Shuffling a little higher, I placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you,” I whispered after pulling away.

  He captured my mouth again, his kiss a little more desperate. The faint taste of mint tickled my tastebuds as he massaged his tongue against mine. Lawson was an amazing kisser. Indisputably. It was as if he had to tenderly touch the entire surface of my tongue with his own before taking his next breath.

  I gripped his hair and deepened the kiss, moaning when he matched my frenzy.

  A low growl emanated from his chest, before he rolled onto his back, taking me along with him, my body now on top of his.

  “Fuck, Stella, you taste too fucking good.”

  I raised my knees, sitting up to straddle him. Lawson placed his hands on my hips and held me still, while his blue, lust-filled eyes probed mine intently. We both stared at each other, communicating in some intangible way that what was about to happen was a major step for the both of us.

  “I want you.” I barely voiced the words, slowly lifting my top over my head and unclipping my bra, feeling the breeze filtering in through my bedroom window tickling my nipples.

  Lawson’s grip on my hips tightened, but he didn’t move — he just stared hungrily, appearing to be at war with himself. I couldn’t say that I blamed him. I’d fooled him once before and I’m not sure I could guarantee I wasn’t fooling him again ... fooling myself.

  Watching him nervously, I was desperate for him to do or say something. His paused state was kindling my insecurity. I knew that he wanted me — he’d made it very clear in the change room of Chic Express — but after revealing my secret and the extent of how emotionally destroyed I really was, I now doubted if his desire for me was still the same.

  Just as I was about to ask what was wrong, and inevitably prepare myself for his rejection, he sat up slowly and kissed me passionately, massaging both my breasts with his large, warm hands, hands that cupped me perfectly.

  Pleasure blanketed my body, causing me to arch and separate my lips from his as my head fell back. His lips instantly found my neck, nibbling, kissing and sucking whatever his mouth could reach, emphasising that he wasn’t one to waste time.

  “That feels ... wonderful,” I sighed deliriously while sliding my hands through his hair.

  He groaned and kissed lower until his mouth and lips replaced one of his hands on my breast. “So fucking good,” he mumbled brokenly, as he orally caressed my chest.

  At the sound of his desperate groan, my grip on his hair tightened, intensifying and escalating the moment. He fumbled with the button on my denim shorts until it popped open, which was when he pulled the zipper down and slid his hand in my panties, finding my clit.

  “Oh god!” I cried out, dropping my head forward and pulling his mouth back up to mine. Again, his tongue worked magic in my mouth, although what he did with it was no trick or illusion. I rocked my pelvis back and forth, grinding against him and assisting the movement of his finger, which sent me into a crazed lascivious mess.

  Pulling away from him and panting profusely, I scooted off his lap and eye-fucked him greedily. “Off. I want them off,” I instructed, lifting my pelvis just slightly and indicating he remove my shorts.

  His eyes flared with unadulterated filth, and he crawled toward me, grabbing hold of the denim and sliding it down my legs together with my panties.

  Naked and completely vulnerable, my body desperately craved the satisfaction of him filling me physically and emotionally. The dire need for him burned in my chest and tortured my soul. Yet for the past eighteen months, that’s exactly what I’d done to myself. I’d tortured what soul I had left by shutting the world out.

  “Stella, you are so bloody beautiful. Each and every part of you makes me fucking weak,” he murmured against my skin as he parted my knees and lowered his head.

  A shallow moan rolled out of my mouth as his lips crept along my inner thigh, tantalising me, giving an insight as to what they would do when they reached the apex of my legs. That sweet ache his mouth elicited continued as he traced a path along my skin, his day-old stubble barely felt as he brushed my clit before stopping and meeting my eyes.

  Seeing Lawson’s expression saturated with lust as he stared up at me from between my legs was about the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed.

  “Please!” I begged. “Taste me.”

  He dipped lower, keeping his eyes resolutely on mine and slowly — oh-so-slowly — ran his tongue from the opening of my pussy right up to the tip of my clit. The heavy, hungry action of his tongue buckled my elbows, resulting in me collapsing onto my back.

  He clenched his big, strong hands around my hips and dragged me closer to his mouth before releasing one hand and trailing a finger through my arousal, which now coated my core. I automatically clenched the muscles of my pussy when that finger stopped at my entrance.

  “Fucking perfect,” he mumbled, then slid his finger inside me, all the while gently lapping at my clit.

  Heat flooded me. Muscles tensed. Breathing hitched. My body was riding a pleasurable high I did not want to come down from. “Is that good, Princess?” He pulled away so that he could watch his finger penetrate me.

  “Yes,” I moaned, “so good.”

  And it was. It was so, so good. The warmth of his breath, the texture of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers worked together perfectly, allowing the sensation of my climbing orgasm to seize every nerve ending in my body.

  “Oh, yes! Fuck!” I cried out, my thighs clenching his head in a vice-like grip.

  My orgasm hit me fast and hard, basically coming out of nowhere and spiralling me into a state of sated bliss. Heat raced through my head. My fingers tingled and toes curled. It was a release I needed, and yet it also released deep anguish as my chest tightened, my heart thudded and my lip trembled. My distraught emotions surfaced and I tried desperately to push them back down. I wanted — more than anything — to stay in this perfect moment with Lawson, to give him as much pleasure as he gave me, to make him happy. But emotions have a way of defying restraint and, together with the fact I had not long ago revealed and discussed my husband’s death, I burst into tears. Big, ugly tears. Why? Why can’t I just let him go ... even when he’s dead?

  “Stella, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me,” Lawson begged as he quickly made his way up the bed to lie beside me.

  I was so embarrassed and hated the fact that I’d once more begged him to take me and then crumbled into a mess of confusion as a result. “I’m so sorry,” I cried, covering my face with my hand while trying to pull the bedsheet over my naked body.

  He helped me cover up and then tried to pry my hand away from my eyes. “Talk to me, please.”

  “I can’t. I feel like such a fucking idiot,” I admitted, crying harder while shaking my head. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

  “Stop it!” he said angrily, firmly pressing me into the mattress with his body. The next thing I knew, my hand was being pulled from my face and placed upon his chest. I blinked, but then screwed my eyes closed. I felt like such a child.

  “I’m not going to let you do this to yourself anymore. Enough is enough. You need to talk about what you’re feeling when you’re feeling it, an
d then we can work out why and how we can maybe fix it. Stop burying the pieces that have made you who you are. Right now, Princess, you are a puzzle, and I’m sure as hell going to piece you back together again.”

  I let out a guttural sob at his words ... at his declaration. “It’s too hard. I feel so guilty, and I shouldn’t. He abandoned me ... left me behind. So why do I feel guilty for moving on?”

  “Open your eyes,” he said softly.

  His calm and gentle tone was like an anchor in a ferocious sea, keeping me from drifting into a current of heartache, so I complied with his request and opened my eyes, blinking until they adjusted to the light filtering in.

  “Good girl.” He wiped away my tears with the back of his hand. “Now look at me. Tell me what you were feeling before you started crying.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, explaining what I could recall. “I felt really good. You were fantastic. It was one of the best org—”

  “Not the orgasm, Princess, after it,” he interrupted, a sensitive yet proud smile creeping in at the corners of his mouth.

  “I felt scared. Guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it has never felt that good, and Tristan is the only other person who has done that to me.”

  He rolled off me, onto his side, then manoeuvred me so that I could hug him and put my head on his shoulder. “We’ll take this slow. As slow as you want and as slow as you need.”

  “But I needed it,” I admitted timidly.

  He kissed my head. Oh, I love that. “Then we do what we are doing now. We talk it out. No running away.”

  “Okay,” I said, squeezing him tight.

  “Say it, Princess.”

  Closing my eyes, I repeated what he’d said, meaning each and every word. “No running away.”

  S I X T E E N

  Breathe in now

  Stella’s steady breathing against my chest was kind of soothing, yet it didn’t completely erase the fucked-up afternoon we’d had. Then again, I shouldn’t really say fucked up, because it hadn’t been a complete disaster. Yeah, she’d freaked out again —twice — but the difference with her meltdowns this time around was that we’d had a breakthrough shortly afterward.

  My mind was still racing with the discovery of how her husband had died, and why it was that she hated him so much. I even felt a bit guilty for having thought the guy had been an arsehole who’d physically hurt her. Don’t get me wrong, I understood her anger and pain over what she’d lost, of course I did. But let’s face it, he’d paid the ultimate price for fucking up; he’d lost his life — a life with Stella.

  Regardless of whether he’d been a good bloke or not, I was more concerned with the fact that if she didn’t find it within herself to forgive him, she’d fail to move forward with her life, and experience what it had to offer. Until Stella learned to let go of the resentment, hatred and disappointment she felt toward him, she would continue to emotionally break down.

  “I’m gonna help you let go, Princess,” I whispered softly, pressing my lips to her soft brown hair while breathing her in.

  Just the smell of her triggered my dick to involve himself in my current activities. Not now, mate. For fuck’s sake, not now. My mind also jumped in the mix, recalling moments with Stella that left me bloody useless. Moments like before, when my mouth was devouring her sweet pussy, lapping and sucking at her warm, wet skin. Arrgh! Fuck, she tasted good; too fucking good.

  Closing my eyes to try and focus on something else — anything else — all I saw was Stella. How she’d sat upon me and taken off her top. How her tits had rested perfectly within arm’s reach, and how she’d waited for me to take her. Fuck, I’d wanted to take her ... badly, and I had no doubt I probably would’ve had she not burst into tears. Shit! I’m a scumbag. Deep down I knew she might not be ready to sleep with another man. She needed to forgive her husband and release the burden she held first. I was sure of that.

  Sighing, I wriggled in closer to her, flipping the blanket across the both of us. Stella murmured something that sounded like ‘knight’, which made me smile. Yes, Princess, I’m your knight in shining armour.

  * * *

  It was the evening of Stella’s birthday and I couldn’t wait to give her the bracelet I’d bought. In fact, I’d never felt this keen about giving anyone anything. Well ... besides the heart-shaped Valentine’s Day card I’d made for Sarah Hunter in Grade 3. Yeah, I nearly pissed my pants with nerves before handing that sucker over.

  Snapping the jewellery box shut and retying the ribbon, I put it in my pocket and made my way to her room. It had been a few days since the night she’d fallen asleep in my arms after revealing how her husband had died, and in those few days, her manner had changed dramatically. I’m not going to lie; her turnaround was surprising. She was now less withdrawn and secretive, and she was much more attentive to me — not to mention needy. And fuck did that need turn me on, especially during heated moments in the hallway when I would press her against the wall, kiss her and slide my hand up her top. Or when Todd and Meg weren’t watching, the moments when we’d subtly brush our hands over one another’s arse, tit or cock. There’d also been leg and foot caressing under the dining room table, and snuggling on the couch in the evening. I hadn’t had this much fun since I was a teenager.

  Meg and Todd weren’t stupid and had to know we were ‘officially’ together, so hiding our affection from them, and everyone else for that matter, was a bit stupid. But I didn’t force the issue with Stella, and for a very good reason. Openly entering your first relationship after the death of your husband was a fucking big deal. Even I knew that. Letting Stella call the shots as to when we could openly be affectionate was the right thing to do.

  Stopping at her bedroom door, I knocked on it lightly. “If you take any longer, we’ll be celebrating next year’s birthday.”

  “You can come in. I’m nearly ready,” she shouted back.

  I turned the handle and entered her room, finding her standing on one foot with her arm propped against the wall. “Sorry, I’m just putting my shoes on and then we are good to go. Is everyone else ready?”

  Her words registered with my brain, but to say I was taking any notice of them would be an outright lie. No, I was more interested in the tight, short black dress she was wearing. It had lace sleeves, the lace also covering her chest and neck. It was the dress she’d tried on in the change room in Shepparton. I’d liked it then, but now? ... Fuck me senseless. She looked bloody irresistible. Her hair was down and wavy and she’d put make-up on.

  Slowly letting my eyes travel the length of her bent leg, I watched as she struggled to put on her black high heel.

  “Lawson?”

  “What?” I answered, snapping my attention back to her face.

  “Is everyone else ready?”

  “Todd and Meg left already. They said they’d meet us there.”

  “Crap! Did I take too long?”

  “Yeah,” I answered playfully.

  She screwed up her face.

  “I’m kidding. Todd wanted to get a few things sorted first.” I chuckled, making my way closer and offering her a hand. “Need some help?”

  Without waiting for an answer, I bent down on my knees and placed her foot on my lap, deliberately brushing the skin on her leg with my fingertips. How a woman could feel this soft and smooth was beyond me, and if it weren’t creepy as all fuck, I’d be inclined to rub my face — and cock — up and down her legs.

  Refocussing my attention on her foot, I slowly manoeuvred it inside her shoe, zipping up the side until it covered her ankle. Mmm ... “I like these shoes,” I said, my voice unexpectedly lower than it needed to be.

  “These?” she asked, rotating her foot just slightly. “I bought them when you were picking up the part to my car.”

  “They’re fucking sexy.” I raised my eyes to look at hers. “You’re fucking sexy.”

  She smiled and acknowledged my compliment with a wink. “The
y are pretty fucking sexy, aren’t they?”

  Jesus fucking Christ!The way she had just seductively let those words roll from her mouth, together with her foot resting on my lap — not to mention that if I ducked down a bit, I would be able to see up her dress — had me all kinds of friggin’ horny, causing my dick to protest the fact he was confined in my jeans. Leaning forward, I kissed her knee and swirled my tongue around it before dipping behind to the sensitive part at the back.

  She inhaled, quick and sharp, which only prompted me to kiss a little higher and higher again.

  “Stop!” she objected, her words exiting along with the exhalation of her breath. “You need to stop or we won’t get to the pub. We really need to get to the pub.”

  I ignored her excuse, kissing higher again. “We can be late.”

  She clasped my head with both her hands and tilted it so that I could look into her eyes. “No, we can’t. As much as I’d like you to continue, I have plans.”

  “What plans?” I asked suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

  Stella let go of my head and removed her foot from my lap. I didn’t like it.

  “A surprise for me ... on yourbirthday?”

  “Well, it’s for you and Todd,” she said, walking over to the bed and picking up her purse then looking back over her shoulder at me.

  I was baffled, so I stood up and sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning back a little on my hands. The uncomfortable probing of my arse cheek from the jewellery box in my pocket reminded me that I hadn’t yet given it to her. So I lifted up and pulled the gift out. “Here, happy birthday,” I said, fumbling like a tosser as I handed her the ribbon-covered box.

  Stella’s eyes flicked from my outstretched hand to my face, then back to my outstretched hand again before taking the box from me. “Thank you. What is it?”

  “Open it and find out. It’s just something I saw and thought you’d like.”