7. Stella
Chapter 7
Stella
I ’m going to be his undoing? As long as there’s doing , I’d be good with it.
“You seem to be the one in control right now,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “So, please, explain how I will be your undoing,” I say as his hands hold me in place, moving me along his length in a way that sends shivers of pleasure throughout my body—but I’m too afraid to move anything other than my hips.
If I move even a millimeter, my lips will be on his, and I’m panicking, hearing his words, feeling his closeness. It’s overwhelming.
I’m not sure what’s making me more nervous, the thought that he’s going to kiss me…or the fear that he won’t, and this is just a tease. It’s why I won’t move; I’m frozen in place, refusing to be the one to push this further.
If he wants more, I need him to be the one to take it.
“You don’t seem to mind when someone else has control…or am I reading too much into this choking thing of yours?”
My hips stutter, breaking the rhythm Miles and I had set, but the closer I get to coming with my clothes completely on—no dick, mouth, or fingers having touched me—the harder I try to push it down, force it to go away. But the mere mention of his hand on my throat not long ago nearly pushes me over the edge.
I want to come, but I don’t want to come like an amateur who’s never been touched before.
I won’t lie, though. So, I just lean back, biting my lip as I watch him. His eyes are glazed over as he focuses on where our bodies touch. I nod. “I do like that. I…I like to please.”
“Fucking hell, Stella,” Miles groans, his hand sliding between us, separating my body and his cock, but the pressure of his fingers against my core sends shudders down my spine.
“What?” I whisper as he palms himself, his knuckles hitting my clit so perfectly that if I keep going like this, I’m going to come in his lap.
How embarrassing.
“Do you do this on purpose?” he grumbles as his free hand finds my throat once again, his grip immediately firmer than before, a movement that instantly soaks my panties.
“Do what?” I murmur, his question only confusing me more in my already dazed, nearly orgasmed state.
His fingers grip my jaw, pulling my face down to his, just a breath away from his mouth. He pauses, his eyes drawn to my lips as he watches them. Sliding my tongue out, I swipe it over my bottom lip, the movement catching his gaze, and I watch them dilate at the sight.
If I’m able to make this man a little crazy while we’re dressed, I can only imagine what it would be like if we were doing this naked.
“Tease me,” he says, his eyes falling to my shoulder where the strap of my tank top has slipped down my arm. “Like this. This top, with no bra? Your perky nipples driving me crazy while you ate dinner…my self-control nearly snapped more times than I care to admit.”
“It’s only teasing if it’s something you can’t have. As far as I can recall, you haven’t even asked…or tried, for that matter, to be with me,” I tell him, moving my hands from his shoulders down to my body. Starting at my hips, I run them up my sides, stopping when I reach my tits, where my fingertips gently swirl around my nipples. His eyes watch my every movement as I swallow roughly around his hand that’s still gripping me tightly.
I start panting. Between his hand on my clit and my fingers rubbing and pinching my nipples as he watches, it makes this PG-13 hookup feel much hotter than it actually is.
“You know why we can’t,” he says, leaning forward, his mouth near mine.
“No, Miles. I don’t,” I tell him, pressing further into his palm, moving close enough to feel the heat of his breath.
“Don’t you dare fucking move, Stella,” he hisses, his grip tightening around my throat as he holds me still, his other hand moving to grab my hip. “I…can’t. If I taste you, I won’t stop there, and I can’t fuck you,” he whispers. “If I kiss you, I’ll fuck you.”
“Give me one reason that would be bad,” I say, my eyes locked on his mouth, internally begging him to bridge the distance between us.
“I can give you at least a dozen, and they start and end with your brother.”
Leaning back, I look behind me dramatically; hand pressed to my forehead as I search the apartment. “I don’t see him here with us, so if there’s a reason you’re not interested, don’t blame it on him. Besides, how is this any different from us kissing or fucking? I’m damn near about to come in your lap, and just because your cock wasn’t inside me doesn’t mean your cock didn’t cause this orgasm. Pretty sure my brother would see both situations the same.”
He swallows roughly, and I can see the indecision in his eyes, the fight between what he thinks is right and what he truly wants. As much as I want to see if he’d choose me, if he’d lean in and kiss me, putting all his worries to rest, I know that’s not where we’re at—and we may never get there.
“Are we going to keep talking about all of this…or are you going to finish what you started?” he asks, his tone dripping with cockiness as his gaze drifts between us, settling on where his thick dick is visible through the thin fabric of his shorts.
Licking my lips, I nod, slowly moving my hips again, working to find the rhythm we had before.
“Good girl, baby,” he groans, his head falling back against the couch as I rub my clit along his hard length. “Keep going like this, and I’m going to blow in my pants before you finish.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say, my orgasm stirring at his praise, the needy bitch inside me loving every word. My movements grow more frantic, the rhythm we had started thrown out the window as we both move together, desperately chasing our release.
“Fuck, Stella,” Miles groans. “I need you to come…like right now.”
His voice is ragged, raspy, as his fingers dig hard enough to bruise my hips. I don’t care though, because his words release a feeling inside me that spirals out of control as my orgasm surges through me. It’s a ball of pleasure rolling down a hill, multiplying with every second, and I’m consumed by the feeling.
He locks eyes with me, pulling me into him, our foreheads pressed together as we roll through the waves of pleasure. I can’t even explain what the hell just happened, the reality hitting that we both just orgasmed with our clothes fully on—well, except for his shirt, since that never seems to be on—and neither of us actually touched each other, only through the fabric.
I’m not sure whether I should be embarrassed or proud.
“That was…new,” Miles says with a laugh, his tone calm, but I can tell he’s a little uneasy. Now, I’m leaning more toward the embarrassed side of things.
“Yeah, I feel like I’m in high school all over again,” I joke, sitting up in his lap. “Although, I don’t recall the orgasms feeling that?—”
“Fucking incredible?”
“That about sums it up.”
“Fucking right about that. I don’t think anyone had any idea what they were doing back then.”
“Well, thank God we’re all getting older and wiser.” I stand up and look down at Miles, then glance at his lap where there’s a wet spot—a definite downside to being a guy when it comes to dry humping.
It’s much more obvious when a man comes in his pants than when a woman does.
Guess that’s one benefit to being a girl. Although, they still get to pee standing up, so they automatically win at life.
“I should probably go get cleaned up, huh?” he says with a laugh.
“Yeah…probably. I’m going to go get ready for bed. Thanks…uhh…for watching a movie tonight,” I sputter nervously before turning around and hurrying to my room, quickly shutting the door behind me.
What the hell just happened?
As I lie in bed, the post-orgasmic haze fading, I think about the start of the night when we were watching the movie, the way it felt just talking to him, how easy and natural the whole conversation was.
He’s such a caring, loyal man, one who values his friends, his family, and being the best person that he can be.
All of that showed in the way he asked me questions, hanging on every word as I told him about a trip to Nashville with my family, when I fell in love with a bakery, and how in that moment, I knew owning my own bakery was what I wanted to do when I was older.
Living in New York, location mattered a lot, so I felt incredibly lucky to find a place right near Central Park. A prime location that always keeps us busy, yet cute enough inside to feel homey and comforting. I knew I wouldn’t be able to completely replicate the feeling of the bakery in Nashville in New York City, but I still wanted it to feel warm and inviting.
Most things in the city feel…transactional, almost cold, but I wanted my bakery to feel like you were transported to another place—somewhere safe and cozy, where you could recharge for a minute before stepping back into the hustle and bustle of urban life.
Our talk, though helpful, did remind me more of my why. Why I’m working as hard as I am to follow my dreams. It comes down to the things that make me happy in life.
Do I want to let some stupid inspection problem possibly end my dream of opening my second location in Nashville? Absolutely not.
Did Rex let his dreams die when he faced challenges? Of course not. He worked harder and did whatever it took to ensure his success in chasing his dreams. It’s one of the reasons I’ve even considered talking to him about all of this, but I know he would just take the reins and try to do it all for me, and that’s not what I want either.
I don’t want anyone doing it for me—for anything, really.
Unless we’re talking about orgasms because I wouldn’t mind someone else being in charge of those. But when it comes to my career? That’s a definite no.
So, I’m still keeping everything to myself and hoping it’ll all work out.
But with Miles, he hasn’t really given me a choice in the matter. He’s been doing everything he can to make this easier on me. Who knows, though, if he’ll still be willing to help after everything that transpired between us? I’m just not sure what to expect anymore, especially since we’re supposed to be leaving for Nashville on Sunday, just a few short days away.
Tonight, went a little further than I think either of us anticipated, especially since, at the start of the evening, I was completely convinced that he only saw me as a friend—and even that felt like a bit of a stretch. I’m one of his best friend’s little sisters, and it always felt like that’s how he saw me.
But seeing him tonight, seeing the struggle in his eyes, the desperation to touch me, to be with me—it was as if I could see the internal battle he was fighting as he wrestled his own desires.
I wish I could say it gave me clarity, pointed me in the direction we should be going, but I’m not even sure if that’s what this was or if the needle pointing north will keep spinning, like I’m dancing in a field of magnetic flowers, with our end goal still completely up in the air.
I thought I was over this little crush, but the more time I spend with this man, the more I realize I’ve never completely untangled myself from him. There’s an invisible thread connecting us, and the tension is a constant that’s becoming harder and harder to ignore.