Stella
The fire was lit, and I was playing with it.
Maddox placed the tray on the table. It was laden with coffee, grilled sandwiches, and dessert—stimulants I usually stayed away from. Coffee and sugar.
I helped him unload the tray, watching as he set it onto the stand before turning back to gather napkins and other condiments.
His dark navy jeans fit perfectly around his ass. I thought he couldn’t look better in tailored trousers, but I was wrong. His tan boots paired with the jeans gave him a casual edge that made him look even more dangerous.
He slipped his jacket off and hung it over the back of his chair.
His cologne reached me first.
Then the sight of his arms made me swallow.
The T-shirt stretched across his upper arms, the thick veins running down the muscle drawing my attention straight to his hands.
Big.
Strong.
Capable.
I tried to stop the thoughts they were beginning to elicit, so I looked away. Unfortunately, the shape of his pecs beneath the fabric was just as impressive.
He sure hid an awful lot beneath his shirts.
“Oh, I forgot the sugar,” he said as he turned away.
I quickly lifted my phone and began snapping pictures, pretending to text as he walked back toward the kitchen.
When he returned, I winced at the screen.
I’d taken them terribly in my rush to get some perv material.
The psychologist was a secret thirst trap. I was in my very own personal hell.
FML.
Why did I order coffee?
I took a long sip.
The hot liquid burned all the way down.
Thank God for panty liners.
?
?
?
“Stella? Did you hear what I said?”
I stared at him blankly and shook my head.
He stood with me on the Tube platform, sending me back home.
I didn’t want to leave.
Not yet.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” he murmured as the stale wind blew through the station when the Tube approached.
He lowered his head and kissed my cheek.
His lips lingered on my skin.
My jaw fell open when his hands settled on my waist.
“Be a good girl for me until then,” he whispered. “And by good, I mean bad.”
I gasped, but he had already pulled back, placing a guiding hand against my back.
In a daze, I followed his touch into the carriage.
People tumbled in around me and I shuffled out of the way, still touching my cheek. Maddox remained on the platform.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
I raised my hand to wave, but I’d apparently forgotten how to wave, so it just stayed there like a high five to an imaginary friend.
He knew how to wave, of course he did, wiggling those fingers.
Those long, thick fingers.
The Tube jolted forward and I grabbed the handrail.
Maddox vanished.
I touched my cheek again.
And smiled.
?
?
?
I grinned until my cheeks hurt, and as soon as I stepped off the escalator, my phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: Save my number.
Unknown Number: You can message me anytime, day or night.
Unknown Number: I can help you in ways you couldn’t even comprehend.
My body went completely still until people began pushing past me.
I quickly moved to the side, rereading his messages again and again.
Another message popped up.
Unknown Number: Are you ready to play, Stella?
Excitement bubbled in the pit of my belly.
Fuck.
Yes to everything.
I paused, forcing myself to control my breathing.
My fingers trembled as they hovered over the keypad.
Me: YES.
Unknown Number: Good girl. Now message me as soon as you get home.
Good girl?
I closed my eyes.
My parents had found the perfect therapist for me, and they had no idea.
I began to chortle, causing people to stare as they passed by.
The stars had aligned.
The universe was tossing me a bone.
I prayed to any and all gods fervently that it was a big one.
The rest of the weekend dragged, but his messages kept me afloat.
It took me hours to pick out the perfect outfit for work—and for our appointment.
I lost count of how many times I came. In the shower. In bed. Even out in the garden, away from my mother. The open-bedroom-door policy was unacceptable. I had a right to privacy.
Anger and resentment came in waves throughout the weekend.
If only I had graduated and secured a decent salary.
Now I was stuck under their roof, living by their rules.