Chapter 28
JAYDEN
I move Stella toward the bed. “I have condoms. Do you have lube?”
“Yes.” She waves a hand at the table next to the bed.
I pull out the drawer, fascinated to see a few toys in there and a bottle of lube. “Excellent.”
I toss the bottle on the bed then push down the bodice of her dress. I pause at seeing the extremely unsexy silicone nipple covers.
She smiles and plucks them off. “Hard to wear a bra with this dress.”
“Yeah,” I agree hoarsely. The dress is tight at her waist and I turn her to find the zipper.
“It’s on the side.” She lifts an arm and I tug the zipper down. The dress slides over her hips and pools on the floor at our feet. I stoop to pick it up. I give it a shake and drape it over a nearby chair. “Such a nice dress,” I say. “Don’t want to wreck it.”
She watches me with dark eyes, wearing a pair of bikini panties, flesh-coloured and trimmed with white lace. I shrug out of my suit jacket and my shirt and leave them on the chair with her dress, then walk toward her as I unfasten my pants. “Get on the bed.”
Her lips part and she sits then scoots over to lie down. She shoves all the cushions off the other side of the bed and settles her head on a pillow.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.” I can’t take my eyes off her as I step out of the rest of my clothes. I grip my aching cock as I kneel on the bed.
Her gaze drops there and watches my hand move on my shaft.
“Let’s get these off you.” I skim her panties down her silky legs, then use my hands on her inner thighs to open her to me. “Gorgeous.”
Her chest lifts and falls with quick breaths, her nipples hardened into tight buds.
“I’m gonna make you come,” I murmur. “Is that okay?”
She makes a choked noise and gives a couple of quick nods.
I bend down to kiss her stomach. The scent of her arousal makes me dizzy.
Using my fingers to part her, I lick her all over: back entrance to her clit, all over her soft folds.
I lift my head to study her, all shiny and pink and wet. “So pretty.”
I lick her again, and again, swallowing the taste of her, my nose pressed to her flesh, my face getting wet.
She whimpers and whines and lifts her pussy to my mouth.
I kiss her labia, opening my mouth on her flesh, and when she shudders, I try out sucking, so gently.
One of her hands lands on my head and delves into my hair.
I smile and keep kissing and sucking, opening my mouth wider on her, moving closer to her clit.
I lift my head and slide two fingers into her. “God, I love how you taste.” I curl my fingers toward her belly button and search out the area that makes her tremble. “There.” I suck the hood of her clit into my mouth and tug, and she cries out.
Her soft noises fall faster and louder as I rub inside her with my fingertips and suck on her hood. And then I suck her whole clit into my mouth.
“Oh God!” Both hands grip my hair. “Yes, that’s so hot. Oh God.”
And then she comes, thighs tightening, abs contracting, pulsing around my fingers. It’s gorgeous. She’s gorgeous.
Need pulses low in my belly, my cock swollen and dripping.
I finish with a few last soft licks, then kiss my way up her abdomen to between her tits. I slap a hand around on the bed to find that small bottle, then open it and hold it above her chest to drizzle the thick lube there.
She’s panting, eyelids heavy but watching what I’m doing.
I squeeze lube onto my stiff cock, too, and spread it all over with my hand. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
“This is still okay?” I ask in a low tone, straddling her, my thighs against her ribs.
“Yes.” The word is a moan.
Slowly, I slide my cock over her skin. “I’m gonna come in about two seconds, this is so fucking hot.”
She lifts her hands to her tits and presses them together, tighter around my shaft.
“Oh fuck, yeah.” I fuck between those gorgeous globes. We both watch the head poke out from between her breasts and it’s fucking erotic as hell. Sensation burns and twists through my body, pressure building at the base of my spine. My balls grow tighter and tingles scurry up the backs of my thighs.
“Oh yeah,” I grit out. A fireball explodes in my belly, burning through me, my cock, my balls, and I spurt onto her chest with a shout. I fist my dick and jack myself, spilling more over her throat, her collarbone, her tits in what feel like never-ending gushes.
When it’s finally done, I give myself a few more slow strokes, squeezing the head. I’m desperately trying to get air into my lungs so I don’t pass out. Then I collapse onto the bed next to her. “Holy shit.”
“Mmmm. That was hot.”
We lay there for several drawn-out minutes.
Gradually, I regain brain function and recall the wet mess on her.
I roll out of bed and get a warm washcloth from her bathroom.
With gentle swipes, I clean her up then dry her off and help her under the covers.
Her duvet is particularly puffy, the cover crisp and scented like her.
When I’ve cleaned myself up, too, I slide into bed with her and wrap my arms around her, her sweet ass pressed to my lap.
“My mom’s kind of… unhinged,” she murmurs.
I smile against her hair. “Maybe a bit.”
“When she and Dad split up, she fell apart. I couldn’t believe it when she started dating right away.
Then I thought maybe it was because of money.
She works at Shoppers Drug Mart, in the beauty department, but that doesn’t pay a lot and she basically had to start over when Dad left.
Pay rent for a tiny little house. Try to support us. ”
“Shit,” I mutter, tightening my arms around her.
“That was another reason why I started selling my stats analysis to hockey teams. I thought if I helped with money, she wouldn’t need to keep dating losers.”
My breath tightens in my chest. Fuck.
“But I couldn’t help that much, and mostly, she really feels like she needs a man in her life.
” She pauses. “When I started going to Gam-Anon—that’s like Al Anon, for families of gambling addicts; I went when I was a teenager and trying to deal with it all—I realized Mom was using relationships to make up for something missing in her life.
Missing in her, I guess. Self-esteem. She’d rather be with someone incompatible than be alone. ”
“Like… how incompatible?” I better not hear anything about abuse or I’ll be flipping the fuck out.
“Just like… losers. The first man she married after the divorce was Brian. He was a chiropractor. Also kind of a kook. But he had money.”
“Oh man.”
“Yeah. When she married Brian, we moved into his house in Surrey. It was nicer than the crappy house we had, but we had to change schools. And a few years later, we had to move out.”
“You said she’s been married four times?”
“Yeah. Including my dad.” She expels a protracted breath.
“She didn’t get much in the divorce from Brian, because they weren’t married long.
So it was back to being broke. I was about seventeen then.
Mom met Shawn only a few months after she and Brian broke up.
Same story. At least they stayed together until I was finished school, and moved out on my own.
Into another crappy place. Which I shared with Gracie. ”
“Good for you.”
“Then it was Randy. Mom ended up with the house in Burnaby after that. I’ve had to help with some bills sometimes, but she’s doing okay now.”
Probably when she didn’t have much herself. I’ve given my parents money, too, after I signed my first NHL contract, but that’s different.
“She just doesn’t like to be single. That last divorce was a couple of years ago. She’s been looking for another man ever since.”
“I think it might not be Jason.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I think you’re right.” She pauses, and when she speaks, her voice is constricted. “I hate it so much that she’s like that.”
“I’m sorry.” I press my hand flat to her stomach.
“And as for my dad…”
“What?”
“Never mind. I don’t want to get all gloomy about my messed-up family.”
“It’s okay. Talk to me. I want to listen.”
She’s very still and doesn’t speak for a moment, then once again lets out a long breath. “I worry that he’s still gambling. Still has money issues.”
“Does he ask you for money?”
“No. He never has. When my business really started making money, I asked if he was okay and he said yeah. He’d gone to a rehab program and I hoped that helped him. But when Wendy was mad that he hadn’t given any money to Harrison for the wedding, I got this uneasy feeling.”
“Shit.”
“He’s my dad.” Her voice catches. “I’d do almost anything for him, or for my mom. I have money now; I can help them. But I remember what I learned at Gam-Anon.”
“That’s great you did that.”
“It helped. One thing I learned is that if I gave him money and he was still gambling, I’d be enabling his addiction.
Also, they teach you that addiction is an illness.
I was really angry at him, but you don’t get mad at someone for getting cancer.
So I had to think of it that way. It helped deal with how angry I was.
And I learned I couldn’t control the gambler.
My dad. I could only control myself and my life. ”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“Any time. I’m always here for you.” I breathe in. And out. “Will you tell me about Cole?”
“I did tell you about him.”
“Did you love him?” My heart suspends beating as I wait for her answer.
After a brief pause, she replies, “I thought I loved him, but now I’m not really sure.
I think it was more about the idea of him than who he really was.
” She shifts in my arms, rolling to face me.
Her face is in shadows but her eyes glow.
I run my thumb over her pouty bottom lip.
“It’s kind of embarrassing, but remember that I felt both my parents had abandoned me.
I didn’t even date in high school. In university, I went out with a couple of guys but I never let myself care too much.
One guy was from China and I knew he was going home when he graduated so there was never any question that we’d end up together long-term.
Another guy had just broken up with his girlfriend and wasn’t over her.
I had a knack for dating guys who weren’t really available.
” She huffs out a wry laugh. “For me, love meant disappointment and rejection, so someone distant felt safer.”
I duck my chin in understanding.
“Then I met Cole. I was twenty-four. He pursued me. And I loved it.”
My stomach tightens so fiercely, I’m afraid I might barf.
“After feeling basically abandoned by both my parents, this was a high for me. That need for belonging… to be seen and accepted exactly as you are… after years of suppressing that, it felt exciting and fun and… affirming. It felt good to be loved.” Her voice is small.
I close my eyes as emotion clogs my throat. “Stella.” You are loved.
“I found myself craving his attention. When he texted me, I’d get a rush of excitement. When he didn’t text me back, I’d spiral into anxiety. I’d doubt whether he really loved me… because I didn’t actually believe I was worth it.”
I can’t stop the strangled noise that rises in my esophagus.
“That kind of feeling can make you ignore red flags.”
“Like not knowing how to pay a fucking credit card bill?” I grate out.
She swallows, eyes big and shiny. “Yeah. Like that.”
Jesus.
“I didn’t want him mad at me all the time. Some kind of people-pleasing bullshit. So I just did everything. But it affected how I felt about him. I told you I felt like his mother after a while. It’s hard to have sexy feelings for a guy when you feel like his mother.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what really ended things. Of course he blamed me for the lack of sex.” Her tone turns bitter.
I really don’t want to hear this. But I also do.
“All those stupid stereotypes about women not liking sex and withholding sex as punishment,” she adds.
“He couldn’t possibly think you don’t like sex.”
“He could, though, because I didn’t want to have sex with him.” She says it haltingly, with a little notch between her brows, as if worried that I’ll judge her. That I’ll think less of her for that.
Stella has always been a willing partner in our sexual relationship. More than willing, sometimes. She’s been downright horny. I love that. I love giving her pleasure and I think she does, too.
“One day, I was talking to Gracie about it and I was making excuses for him and saying it was fair that he felt like I was withholding sex and… I realized… I wasn’t just becoming his mother… I was becoming my mother.”
Oh fuck.
“I was putting up with all his bullshit because I didn’t want to lose him. Or I didn’t want to lose the idea of him. That high of feeling loved and seen… although to be honest, that had faded by that point. And I had to stop and think about whether the relationship was really what I wanted.”
“And I guess the answer was no.”
Her chin descends in a tiny nod. Her lips are puffed up like she’s going to cry.
I pull her closer to me, pressing her face to my chest with a hand on her head. “Stella. Jesus.”
“I’m sorry to dump all my baggage on you at once.”
“No. It’s good. I’m glad you feel safe enough with me to tell me that stuff.” The honour of it makes my heart expand hard against my sternum.
“I do,” she whispers.
I feel safe with her, too. My life is intensely physical, competitive and demanding, and I have stuff in my background that I have never told anyone about. I’m not afraid to admit that feeling safe with a woman is important.
I can’t fucking stand it that she didn’t feel loved. Or seen. Or appreciated.
“Stella.” I touch her cheek, so gently. “I am seriously falling for you.”