Stella
Something woke me, and the moment I shifted, everything came rushing back.
Even after the bath, certain muscles ached, and the lingering memory of being ridden so hard made me throb deep in my belly.
My eyes snapped open.
I blinked into the pitch-black room.
The sex room.
He’d asked me to move in with him.
Or had that been a dream?
His mouth moved lower, dragging the sheets from my body. I hissed when he gripped my breast. It wasn’t gentle, and neither was his mouth. I moaned as his hot lips closed around my nipple, flicking over it before sucking me deeper into his mouth.
My fingers slipped into his hair as I lay flat on my back, giving him better access.
“I’m awake now,” I groaned, hooking my hand around his neck.
He grunted and shifted over me. The covers slid down to my waist, but that wasn’t what sent a shiver down my spine.
It was the weight of him.
The strength in his body. The heat. The unmistakable urgency in the way he moved.
I curled my legs around the backs of his knees as his lips drifted toward my neck. The contrast of his hard muscles rubbing against my sensitive skin made me lift my hips hungrily against him.
He was almost twice my age. Younger than my parents, but old enough to have shed the arrogance and impatience of the boys who had once circled me like vultures. Maddox knew exactly what he was doing.
And somehow he always made me feel safe.
Wanted.
His tongue traced slowly along my neck, soft and wet, before his lips settled against my throat. I pushed my head deeper into the pillows, arching my back instinctively, offering myself to him.
Was it wrong that I wanted freedom?
Was it wrong to take what I needed from this man?
Right now, this was the only thing that felt right.
I blinked the tears away as anger slowly replaced the sadness. It rose hot and sharp, pushing through the years of humiliation I had swallowed down. The taunts. The whispers. The shame pressed on me by strangers and loved ones alike.
“Fuck me like a dirty whore,” I snapped at him.
His head jerked up, his attention sharpening instantly. In the faint grey glow of daylight seeping through the curtains, I felt his gaze move over my face, studying me carefully.
“Not yet, Stella,” he murmured, his voice low as his lips brushed along my jawline until they reached my ear. “I’m fucking you like a dirty little princess this morning.”
I blinked again, and this time a single tear slipped free, trailing slowly down the side of my face.
“How exactly is a dirty princess fucked?” I asked with a quiet sniff.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he shifted lower on the bed, his body sliding down mine until he settled between my legs. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he lifted my legs and pinned them gently but firmly against the sheets.
His mouth moved to my pussy, trailing his tongue down my opening and to my asshole.
“Maddox,” I gasped, but it didn’t faze him.
The faint morning light filtered through the curtains, just enough for me to see the dark shape of his head between my thighs as he worked with slow, deliberate focus.
His tongue circled my hole.
I squeezed my eyes shut in anticipation, my fingers curling into the bedding as a tremor ran through me.
“Ooh,” I gasped when his tongue pressed against me.
He waited patiently until I relaxed before he breached me.
His tongue snaked past the tight ring of muscles, leaving me gasping for air.
The crafty devil distracted me as he stuffed my pussy with his fingers, his hand steady while his mouth continued its relentless exploration.
Then he began to intermittently fuck me with his tongue and fingers.
The bed creaked softly beneath us.
When I tried to hump myself on him, his fingers pressed down on my hip to still my movements. He grunted when I settled down, the sound low and approving.
It was difficult not to move when he was tormenting me with dual stimulation.
I’d never been treated like a princess before.
But I would highly recommend it.
He continued his relentless pace until I was struggling to breathe. Just as my muscles began to tighten and the familiar edge of my orgasm crept closer, he pulled away.
“No,” I rasped as he rose to his knees.
The sudden absence made my body twitch with frustration.
“No?” he echoed.
He straightened, settling back slightly as he looked down at me.
“Do you know how long I had to wait before I woke you up?”
He sounded so genuinely indignant that I began to giggle, the tension slipping out of me in helpless bursts. It was difficult to take him seriously when his dick bobbed slightly as he talked.
“I apologise that my sleep schedule left you deprived.”
“That’s more like it,” he grumbled.
My amusement evaporated when he proceeded to pin me to the bed and pound me into the mattress, giving me more than I’d been craving.
The world narrowed to the weight of him, the rhythm he set, and the way the wood creaked softly beneath us. His grip was firm, unyielding, but there was a strange steadiness to it—as if he was anchoring me as much as he was taking what he wanted.
Time blurred.
Every breath came faster than the last until my thoughts dissolved completely and there was nothing left but sensation and the sound of our bodies moving together in the dim morning light.
But it was what happened afterwards that stole the air from my lungs.
When the intensity finally faded, he gathered me against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. One arm wrapped securely around my waist while the other brushed slowly through my hair, untangling the strands with surprising patience.
He kissed me then.
Not the hungry, demanding kisses from before, but something softer. Slower. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with desire.
Like I was fragile.
Like I mattered.
Like I was the only woman in the world.