Chapter 19 - Donovan
Donovan
Over the following months, Stella and I found a steady rhythm in our new lives.
Coach Headstrom’s been teaching me the ins and outs of coaching a prestigious football program. At Virginia Bay Prep, winning isn’t enough; it’s about legacy.
We’re midway through the season, still undefeated. Every team we face wants to be the one that takes us down, because if you beat Virginia Bay Prep, recruiters will show up to see who took down the kings.
We’re running two-a-days. 5 a.m. sharp, and I still feel it in my bones by nightfall: warm-ups, weights, sprints, and endless footwork drills. We don’t just bark orders; we grind with them. Coach Headstrom always says,
“If you’re gonna tell them to be better, you better prove you can be better.”
After our hour and a half of drills, it’s time to hit the showers, and then we make our way inside the school for our hearty breakfasts.
Virginia Bay Prep not only offers a top-tier football program but also a meal plan that’s almost unfair for a school.
The breakfast spread alone feels closer to a boutique hotel than a cafeteria—fluffy Belgian waffles with warm syrup, omelets made to order, bowls of fresh berries, and coffee strong enough to keep even the most exhausted athlete awake through first period classes.
Even the bacon comes out perfectly crisp, stacked in silver trays like it’s waiting for royalty.
I teach two P.E. classes each day, Monday through Thursday.
Once those are done, it’s straight into coaches’ meetings—watching game day reels, learning plays, even scouting the kids coming up in the upcoming years.
It feels almost like a damn game of chess.
Even in the middle of coaching, sometimes I catch myself thinking of her laugh—then I’m back to taking notes.
Once the day is over, we head out to the field, warm up, and spend the next two or two-and-a-half hours running play drills.
If a kid isn’t getting the play, I step in and show them how the play should happen according to their position.
I feel that this helps the boys understand that we aren’t just telling and yelling.
They know we’re invested enough to show them how to improve.
It’s a rhythm, the field by day, her by night. And both leave me aching in different ways.
I get back to my tiny one-bedroom apartment, most nights alone. I eat whatever healthy meal that I prepared over the weekend while video chatting with Stella.
We are only a few blocks away, so we could really see each other every night. She felt it was important to have our space, to live alone, and to learn to do things alone.
It’s not what I wanted; I would have loved to dive headfirst into this with her. But I do get where her mind is going with this, learn to navigate your relationship separately before thrusting yourself into a situation that isn’t easy to leave if it gets to that—not that leaving again would happen.
We have two weekends of the month going back and forth between her apartment and mine.
We shop, run errands, and cook meals together—stealing kisses as we stir pasta sauce. Don’t tell Ansel, she’d probably never use that counter again, but I sat Stella right there and devoured her like it was my last meal.
Two weekends a month, we play house, experience what it would be like to be married, and intertwine our lives. She falls asleep wrapped in my arms, and I watch her sleep, admiring the way her face relaxes—and plump lips spread open ever so slightly as she sleeps.
Honestly, it’s utter perfection. This, her and me, this is what my dreams are made of.
I start to drift off to sleep, but feel Stella’s body turn.
She wedges her ass right into my lap, barely moving her hips, her panties brushing against my boxers as she grinds herself into my cock.
I can feel myself start to stiffen as she works her hips a little faster, and a soft moan escapes her lips.
Shit. She’s dreaming, and it’s definitely not innocent. Do I wake her? God, I don’t want to embarrass her. But I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend I’m not losing my mind here.
I wrap my arms around her tighter and press a kiss to her neck, soft and coaxing. “Stella, baby… I think you’re dreaming. I need you to wake up.”
It takes a few tries, but finally, her eyes flutter open, wild, dark, and filled with something I can’t name. She stares at me like she’s seeing me for the first time, and then, without warning, she pins me down, all fire and possession.
There’s no coming back from this. Not for me.
My cock is fucking throbbing now. This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.
She leans down, her raven-colored hair falling like a veil around us, her lips crashing into mine, desperate and hungry.
Her taste floods me, sweet and sharp, like I’ve been starving for her.
“Baby, please tell me you’re awake,” I murmur against her mouth, just before her tongue finds mine.
Her hands are still holding me down, her pussy rubbing against my cock, barely any fabric between us, and fuck, I can feel how drenched she is through my boxers.
The heat of her thighs sears into me, every roll of her hips setting the bed to a soft, traitorous creak.
“I’m awake, Donovan. And I want you—right now,” she whispers, her voice wicked in my ear, sending a full-body shiver down my spine. Her breath fans hot against my skin, making me shudder.
She lifts herself off me, trailing kisses down my chest as she pulls my boxers off like she’s unwrapping a gift she’s been waiting for. Where the fuck did this side of her come from? Not that I’m complaining one fucking bit.
She stands at the foot of the bed, her eyes alive with mischief and a hunger I’ve never seen in her before.
“Don’t move a muscle,” she teases, her gaze flicking to my cock twitching in anticipation.
She disappears for a moment, and when she returns, I’m still lying exactly where she left me, cock hard, body straining, waiting for her.
“Mmm, you listen so well, baby,” she moans, climbing back onto my lap and setting my neckties beside her like a threat.
The praise hits me like fire, making my cock throb even harder.
She rocks her hips, her soaked panties dragging along the head of my cock, slow and deliberate, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. The friction steals the breath from my lungs, every slick grind pulling a groan straight out of my chest.
Her hands trail up her thighs, over her stomach, cupping her gorgeous tits.
She keeps grinding against me, playing with her nipples, rolling them between her fingers, her head tipping back with every flick.
Her moans echo through the dark room, raw and desperate, and it’s all I can do not to explode.
“Goddamn it, Stella. You look so fucking sexy sitting on me like this.” I reach up, desperate to touch her, but she freezes, smacking my hands away. “Uh-uh, hands down, Donovan. Don’t make me stop.”
Christ. I didn’t think I could get any harder—until she takes control and leaves me undone.
She leans down, grabs my ties, and presses her body against me as she secures my wrists to the headboard. Tight, commanding. The silk bites into my skin, soft and punishing all at once. Fuck, this is happening. I am completely at the mercy of this fierce, devastating angel on top of me.
She rocks herself back to a sitting position, and we both let out a moan as her clit catches the head of my cock just right.
“God, Donovan… you look so good like this,” she murmurs, fingertips skating over my skin, goosebumps trailing down my body. “Will you listen if I tell you what I want?” “Please, Stella. I’ll be good. I’ll listen to every fucking word.”
She shifts off me, hands wrapping around my cock, working slow strokes up and down. Her grip is firm, her pace torturous. Then I feel it—the heat and wetness of her tongue dragging along the head, licking up the precum I know is spilling out of me.
Her moan vibrates down my length, a low hum that makes my vision blur.
She tastes me, licking up my length before teasing me, taking the tip in, then pulling back, flicking her tongue against the head, over and over.
Every flick makes my abs tighten, my hands straining against the ties.
My hips jerk on instinct, the need to bury myself in her mouth almost unbearable.
But she stops, pulling away with a sharp look.
“Fuck, damn it, Stella, why’d you stop? Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
“I didn’t give you permission to move,” she says, almost daring me. “So you’re going to stay right here, exactly how I want you.”
“Yes ma’am,” I pant, my body screaming for more.
“Good boy,” she purrs, half-teasing, half-testing, but the sound of it has me straining against the ties.
Her breath is hot against the tip as she leans in, and then she goes back to sucking just the head of my cock, her hands moving with perfect rhythm.
Then, without warning, she takes me deep, her mouth swallowing as much of me as she can until I hear her gag, and fuck, the sound nearly ends me.
“Damn it, Stella… keep gagging on my cock like that and I’m going to come down your pretty little throat.”
She pulls off, eyes dark and wild, and leans into my ear. “Mm, no, baby… You don’t get to come yet. I’m not done playing with you.” Her breath is hot against my ear, her words dripping straight down my spine. All I can do is nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
She slides off her panties slowly, never breaking eye contact, then climbs up, straddling my chest, her legs framing my face. Her pussy is glistening, so fucking perfect, and I’m practically panting just looking at her.
One hand travels up her stomach to her tits, her fingers pulling at her nipples, while the other slips between her thighs. She rubs slow circles over her clit, a low moan slipping free as her head falls back, hair brushing across my cock and making me twitch beneath her.
Her hips start to buck gently, and I watch, mesmerized, as her finger disappears inside her, slick and glistening. My mouth waters, hunger clawing at my chest.
“That’s it, Stella. Play with your pretty pussy,” I groan, my body thrashing against the restraints, the ties biting into my wrists, desperate to break free and taste her.
I thrust my hips up, desperate for friction, but there’s only the brutal ache left behind.
She moans louder, fucking herself with her fingers, her breathing getting heavier. She’s close, I can see it, the way her body’s shaking, the way her hips grind harder.
“Baby girl… please. Come sit on my face. Let me eat you until you come.”
She hovers over me, still teasing herself, eyes wild and dark with something new, something wicked. Her thighs flex above me, trembling with every motion of her fingers.
“You really want me on your face, don’t you?” she teases, her voice thick with heat. “Beg me for it, baby.”
I groan, tugging at the ties like they’ll snap, the scent of her arousal flooding me, my mouth watering. “I’ll be your good boy, Stella. Please just let me taste your pussy.”
She smirks, watching me suffer, gaze locked on mine like she’s deciding whether I deserve it.
For a second, I think she’ll make me beg harder, but then she shifts forward, crawling up my body, slow and deliberate, the heat of her seeping into my skin with every inch.
The mattress dips under her weight until her thighs frame my face.
“Since you said please,” she whispers, lowering herself with a sinful roll of her hips.
The moment she settles on my mouth, I groan into her, tongue diving deep.
Her heat floods me, slick and unrelenting, coating my lips and my chin.
She gasps, a sound so raw and fucking honest it nearly undoes me.
Her thighs clamp around my head, trembling as she grinds against my mouth: her taste, her scent, her sounds. I’ll never get enough.
She’s never been like this with me. Unguarded, wild, completely fucking radiant—and I pray I’m the only one she’ll ever let unravel her like this.
She’s mine, the only woman I’ve ever wanted, the only one I’ll ever need—and I’ll gladly drown in her to prove it.
I devour her, tongue plunging deep, then dragging up to circle her clit, licking her like I’ll never get another chance.
Her slick coats me, dripping down my chin, and I don’t care—I want every drop, want to breathe her, live off her.
She cries out, hips grinding down harder, using my face like it’s hers to ruin, and fuck, it is.
I moan into her, the sound vibrating through her cunt, and her thighs shake around me. Every tremor, every gasp, it feels like she’s breaking me apart and remaking me in her image. She’s not just sitting on my face—she’s sitting on my soul, and I’ll gladly let her keep it.
I suck her clit into my mouth, tongue flicking fast, relentless, until she’s bucking against me, fucking herself on my face.
My cock aches, leaking, throbbing, but none of it matters.
Not if she’s moaning like this, not if she’s falling apart for me.
I’d stay tied here forever if it means I get to be her altar, her ruin, her everything.
She breaks apart above me, trembling and gasping, flooding my mouth with everything I’ve been starving for.
I hold her through it, tongue and lips relentless, because if worship has a shape, it’s this—her coming undone on my face.
When she finally stills, thighs quaking around me, I know there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t give just to feel her like this again.