Chapter Stella
Stella
His eyes were soft, full of adoration as he looked at me. Something inside me fractured, and without warning tears began to slide down the side of my face. I had never believed anyone could love me. I didn’t feel worthy of it.
How could I, when my own parents didn’t?
The people who were supposed to love you no matter what.
Maddox pulled back, and I cried harder at the loss of him inside me. He swiftly lifted my head and removed the mouth gag. I worked my jaw carefully before I spoke.
“Thank you,” I croaked as more tears escaped.
He paused and slowly shook his head.
“I will always have your back. Always,” he said, bending down to steal a quick kiss before he began working on the rest of the restraints.
I grunted softly when he eased the butt plug out. The buzzing grew louder for a moment before stopping completely, leaving only the quiet of the room—and us.
He lifted me off the table and I clung to him like a limpet, wrapping my arms around his neck until my chest was pressed firmly against his.
I was still trying to steady my emotions when we reached the bed.
He sat down and pulled me onto his lap, cradling me against him.
The silence between us felt peaceful, and the warmth of his comfort slowly soothed me.
The gentle sway of his body dulled the noise in my head and the ache that had lived in my soul for so long.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but eventually the tears slowed and I felt… content.
“Don’t think crying will get you out of tonight,” he grumbled, finally breaking the silence.
I grinned and held him tighter.
“I love you, too,” I murmured, letting myself fall one last time.
But this time, I knew he would always be there to catch me.
?
?
?
The delicious scent of food filtered through the sleepy haze. I sniffed and opened my eyes, suddenly realising just how famished I was.
The bed was empty. His side of the grey covers lay ruched to one side.
I sat upright, groaning when my body protested. My aching muscles dragged every memory of last night rushing back to the surface.
I breathed slowly and glanced toward the sunlight beginning to spill through the window. A gentle breeze stirred outside, making the oak tree branches sway softly as its green leaves shifted to one side.
I stretched my arms above my head, the movement pulling pleasantly at sore muscles and causing the covers to slide down to my waist. Various marks decorated my skin.
I didn’t bother inspecting them.
I was far more eager to eat—and to see Maddox.
With a final stretch of my back, I pushed the covers away and slipped into the bathroom to wash up. We had returned to our bedroom to sleep afterward. Somehow the sex room had felt like therapy, while our bedroom felt like a haven.
A place that was ours.
I had never believed I could trust anyone—let alone a man.
But Hazel had dropped enough little hints for me to understand who Maddox had once been… and who he had become.
I was seeing the whole picture now.
The polished man who held his control like a vice.
And darker edges hidden beneath it all.
The ones no one knew about.
A contrast about him that I loved.
?
?
?
I snuck a peek at him from the doorway.
He was humming while cooking something on the stove, completely absorbed in whatever rhythm was playing in his head.
His grey shorts hung low on his hips as he swayed slightly to music only he could hear.
The morning light spilled through the kitchen windows, catching on the curve of his shoulders and the dark line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband.
No lines.
No underwear.
Just two hard muscles he’d used to fuck me into oblivion.
I licked my dry lips.
Then he turned.
Even flaccid, the outline of his dick was damn impressive.
“Good morning. I see you’re hungry,” Maddox said, wiggling his eyebrows with exaggerated lecherous intent.
“Famished,” I replied, stepping closer and rubbing my hand over his chest through the thick cotton of his shirt.
My gaze drifted downward just in time to see his cock begin to push outward against the fabric.
He groaned.
“No. Food first. But quickly,” he said, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the couch before depositing me onto it.
By the time I blinked, he had already vanished back into the kitchen.
I leaned back into the cushions, listening to the quiet clatter of pans and utensils while the smell of breakfast drifted through the room.
My stomach growled embarrassingly loud, but the warmth spreading through the house made me smile.
It felt… normal. Domestic in a way I’d never really experienced before.
I watched as he moved rapidly around the kitchen, flipping something in the pan, reaching for a plate, grabbing the kettle without even looking. He worked with an easy confidence, like this was just another part of his routine.
Moments later he returned and presented me with a slate-grey plate loaded with food.
My eyes were immediately drawn to the small bunch of ripe vine tomatoes nestled beside fluffy eggs and crisp bacon slices. The toast was still warm, butter slowly melting into the surface. A side of avocado and mushrooms sat neatly arranged, sprinkled with cracked black pepper.
Steam curled gently upward.
It looked almost too good to eat.
“You’re the perfect man,” I said, taking the plate from him.
He grinned at that, the corners of his mouth tugging upward before he turned back toward the kitchen to get his own food.
I lifted my fork and cut into the eggs, letting out a quiet sound of appreciation as I took the first bite. It was so good I practically swallowed it without chewing.
“I’ll need to thank your mum,” I added casually.
There was a pause.
Then the barrage of curses that erupted from the kitchen made me burst out laughing.