Maddox
Stella didn’t want to confront her parents, so she chose a time when they were both out of the house to vacate her room. Over the last week, she had quietly packed most of her belongings and requested part-time flexible hours at work.
I may have encouraged the latter.
The afternoon air was cool as I carried the last of her bags outside and placed them carefully into the back seat of the SUV. The door shut with a soft thud. When I closed the boot and turned back toward her, she hadn’t moved.
She stood at the end of the driveway, staring at the house.
Her childhood home loomed behind her—large, immaculate, and utterly lifeless.
“I never want to live there again,” she whispered when I stepped up behind her and wrapped my arms loosely around her waist.
Her body leaned into mine without thinking.
“You’ll need to face them someday,” I murmured, dipping my head to brush a kiss against her cheek.
“Not today,” she said, her shoulders sagging as she released a long breath.
There was a tremor in it.
“Come on,” I said lightly, tightening my arm around her for a moment before letting go. “I’ll buy you some ice cream.”
She twisted out of my hold and looked at me like I’d just insulted her intelligence.
“God, you really see me as a kid.”
I shrugged, refusing to take the bait.
Better she direct that irritation at me than let her mind spiral back toward the people inside that house.
“I’d rather you be angry than miserable,” I thought, though I didn’t say it out loud.
“What about a chocolate milkshake?” I said, opening the passenger door for her and gesturing her inside.
She slid into the seat, her expression still sour.
“Don’t you have diabetes or something?” she asked snidely.
I chuckled, leaning down to shut her door before walking around the front of the SUV.
By the time I climbed into the driver’s seat, I was still laughing.
Stella crossed her arms and stared out the window like she was deeply offended by the entire concept of milkshakes.
God, she was adorable when she was annoyed.
I started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
She was so fucked when we got home.
The gloves were coming off.
?
?
?
“How’s your ice cream?” I asked, because she hadn’t said a word since we stopped for it.
She sat curled slightly into the passenger seat, the small paper tub balanced in her hands as the evening light spilled through the windshield.
“Mmm. So good,” she said, closing her eyes briefly before licking her wooden spoon clean. “Do you want the last spoonful?”
“I wouldn’t want my sugar levels to spike,” I said dryly as I slowed the SUV and turned into the driveway.
The tires crunched softly over the gravel.
“Sorry for being so pissy,” she said with a sigh, scraping the bottom of the paper container for the last melting remnants of ice cream. “I think I stopped enjoying everything.”
Her voice was quieter now. Thoughtful.
“I’ll feel more forgiving after I’ve spanked you,” I said casually, as if I were commenting on the weather.
Then I opened my door and stepped out of the SUV, leaving her behind me.
A choking sound erupted from the passenger seat.
Her door flew open a second later.
“What?” she shouted, nearly dropping the container as she fumbled with the seat belt. “Maybe we can negotiate something?”
The belt locked stubbornly in place as she tugged at it.
“Dammit—”
She cursed under her breath, wrestling with it while I calmly walked toward the front of the car.
Her hair had already started slipping loose from its clip.
I leaned back against the hood, folding my arms as I watched her struggle.
Negotiation.
That would be entertaining.
She finally stumbled out of the car and came to stand beside me, still catching her breath from wrestling with the seat belt.
“Maddox,” she said, running a finger slowly down the centre of my chest, her voice softening as she leaned in. “Spanking isn’t in my journal, though. There is so much more in it that we could try.”
I plucked the empty ice-cream container from her hand and set it on the hood of the car before sliding my hands to her hips. She instinctively moved closer, pressing her soft breasts against me as if the space between us had always belonged there.
“Did you ever think that I might have a list?” I drawled.
Her head snapped up instantly, green eyes sharpening with interest.
I slipped my leg between hers and she shifted forward without hesitation, rubbing against it as though she barely realised she was doing it.
“Can I see it?”
“Uh-uh.” I tapped my temple lightly with two fingers. “It’s all up here.”
A calculated move.
After all, if the list only existed in my head, I could change the rules whenever I pleased.
“Anyway,” I continued casually, letting my hands drift slightly along her hips, “I wouldn’t want you to become bored with me.”
She gasped softly.
“Never,” she said quickly, colour blooming across her cheeks. “Not after the week I’ve had.”
The admission hung between us, warm and heavy in the evening air.
My hands slipped behind her to cup her ass, guiding her along my thigh until she hissed and shuddered. Her hands clenched the fabric of my shirt while she rocked her hips.
“My good girl’s been bad,” I whispered, glancing at her.
I slowly shook my head, watching her lose herself in a way only Stella could.
Her eyes were closed, too focused on the slow friction as she pressed herself against my leg. I tightened my grip, fingers digging into her ass, but that only made her move faster. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, each one warmer against my throat than the last.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“I think it’s the sugar rush,” she panted.
I chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to her heated cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my lips.
“Go upstairs and strip out of your dress. I’ll unload the car.”
She grinned at that, bright and mischievous, before pushing herself away from me.
I watched her hurry toward the house, the front door swinging open before she disappeared inside. The echo of her laughter followed her.
I turned back to the car and began unloading the remaining bags, stacking them carefully on the driveway.
Halfway through the second bag, a thought struck me.
I glanced over my shoulder toward the house.
“No touching anything until I get there!” I shouted after her.
Her voice floated back through the open doorway.
“Boo!”
Then she laughed again.
I shook my head, lifting another bag from the back seat.
Oh, she definitely needed a spanking.