Chapter 25 - Donovan
Donovan
Stella traded her paint-stained clothes for a flowy pastel slip dress and a pair of cherry red heels that make my pulse skip. Her hair is still in those two braids, soft but dangerous. Just like her.
We walk into the restaurant and spot Stella’s parents at a large, round table draped in a rich, red tablecloth, with soft candlelight flickering in the center.
Eleanor is laughing at something my stepmother says—a sight I could get used to.
We make our way over, and there’s a flurry of hugs, handshakes, and warm introductions as Stella and I officially introduce Ansel and Theo to everyone.
Conversation flows easily. We talk about the show, the week, and the championship win—my dad is gushing like we’ve already gotten the champion rings.
Honestly, life feels good. Full. Like this moment, surrounded by friends and family, might just be the peak.
After dinner, Vince insists on dessert even though everyone protests. “We’re celebrating,” he says, ordering tiramisu for the table.
A few bites in, Stella squeezes my hand under the table. I glance over at her, and she gives me that look—it's time.
I clear my throat and meet Vince and Eleanor’s eyes.
“I’ve been in love with Stella since we were just a couple of reckless kids figuring life out. Even back then, when I didn’t deserve her, I knew she was it for me.” Another squeeze from Stella. I catch Ansel’s expression across the table—wide-eyed and clearly wondering how she didn’t know.
I take a breath, the moment heavy with truth.
“And then she gave me a second chance. A rare, impossible, undeserved second chance. And I swear to you both, I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets it. Not for a second.”
I shift slightly in my seat, keeping my gaze steady on her father.
“Before she came home for the play… I asked her to marry me because I can’t picture a future where she’s not my wife. My partner. My forever.”
The color drains from Vince’s face—then rushes back in, deep and red.
With his fork still in hand, he points it at me like it’s a weapon. “You’re telling me you’ve been engaged for two weeks?” His voice booms. He slams the fork onto the table. “Two fucking weeks and no one told me?”
Eleanor places a hand on his arm to calm him, but his fury shifts to my parents. “You knew? Did you both know?”
Marcello and Vanessa freeze like deer in headlights. “Vince,” my dad says cautiously, “if we had known, we would’ve told you.”
Ansel and Theo suddenly become very interested in their napkins. Stella speaks up, her tone gentle but unwavering.
“Papa, please. Don’t be angry. You’ve always known how I feel about Donovan. You watched him move across the country for me. Why are you surprised we’re getting married? Why can’t you just be happy?”
She walks over and wraps her arms around his neck. “You were the first man I ever loved. But I’m going to build a life with Donovan. A home. A family.”
For a second, Vince is speechless.
Then my mother gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh god, Stella—please tell me this isn’t because you’re pregnant!”
I practically choke on my own breath. Stella’s eyes go wide.
“Oh my god, no. I’m not ready for kids, Mom.”
I still remember the first day I saw Stella. Sophomore year. My second day at a new school. I was sitting in the cafeteria alone—of course.
She was walking through the lunch line, carefully inspecting apples like one might inspect jewels.
Her long black hair was braided down her back in two perfect ropes.
She was laughing at something another girl had said, and the sound made my heart skip a beat.
Not in a cheesy way. In a holy-shit-what-was-that kind of way.
I knew at that moment I’d spend the rest of my life wanting to hear that laugh again.
Then she turned.
Lunch tray in her hands. And the world just… stopped.
It was like a damn angel appeared right in front of me. I still remember exactly what she was wearing—dark denim jeans that fit like a glove and a pastel pink baby doll tee with a tombstone that read 'Wish You Were Here.'
She looked like chaos and softness wrapped into one. Like a masterpiece, the gods carved just for me.
From that moment on, I was hooked. And I made it my personal mission to become her friend.
Once the fuss around the engagement quiets down, Ansel grins and turns to Stella.
“Well, slay muffin… where’s the ring?”
My stomach drops.
Shit.
I forgot a goddamn ring.
Stupid. Stupid Donovan.
Before the shame can swallow me whole, Eleanor gently touches my arm. “Donovan, don’t worry about that. I have my great-grandmother’s ring—it would fit Stella perfectly.” Her voice trembles. “That is… if you want to use it. You’re welcome to pick something else, of course, something more modern.”
Stella and her mom dissolve into tears, and I just sit there, speechless, watching two of the people I care about most hold each other.
Then Vince stands up and shakes my hand. His grip is strong—tighter than necessary—and he leans in close enough for only me to hear:
“If you hurt my Stellina,” he whispers, voice low and lethal, “I will bury you like a secret no one ever finds.”
Stella and I make our way back to her house, while Ansel—with no hesitation and far too much enthusiasm—says yes to going home with Theo.
What the hell happened to Colin? I’ll have to ask Stella later.
We’re in my car, winding up the curvy roads toward the house, her hand resting casually on my thigh.
She taps through her phone until soft music filters through the speakers, filling the quiet. But then her hand starts to move—slowly, deliberately—up my thigh, heading straight for my cock.
With my left hand gripping the wheel tighter, I catch her wrist with my right.
“Stella, what are you doing?” I grit out, my voice already strained.
She looks over at me, eyes full of trouble, and runs her tongue along her bottom lip. “Oh, baby,” she whispers, fingers dragging higher up my thigh, “I’ve been thinking about your cock for days.”
Her lips brush my ear, and her voice drops even lower. “I want to taste you… feel you lose control in my mouth. You’ve teased me long enough—now I intend to make you fucking come, and I would like to hear how much you missed me while you do.”
“Fuck, Stella, you are driving me fucking crazy right now. Making me so goddamn hard.”
We’re still more than twenty minutes from her house, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m waiting that long. I can’t.
I veer off the main road and pull into the lookout cove, nestled in the hills and tucked back behind a line of desert brush. The air outside is crisp. The night is dead quiet. And my pulse is hammering in my ears like a fucking war drum.
I shift the car into park, but before I can move, she grabs my shirt and pulls me toward her. I kiss her hard—deep—dragging my tongue along the seam of her lips like I’ve been starving for her, because I fucking have.
She pushes me away just as fast and slips out of the car. What the hell?
She walks around to my side, slow and deliberate, her hips swaying like a fucking threat. I go to open the door, but she shoves it the rest of the way open and plants her hands on my chest, forcing me back into the seat. My feet hit the ground. She drops to her knees in front of me.
She looks up, eyes dark and daring—a fallen angel in soft pink, with sin on her lips.
“I’ve been dripping wet for days,” she says, unfastening my belt. “Playing our little phone tag games. Teasing each other like we had time to spare. But now?” Her hands yank my pants and boxers down in one pull, and my cock springs free.
Her eyes drag over me, slow and hungry. She grins as her tongue flicks out to wet her lips.
“I want you in my mouth,” she says, voice like silk and sin. “I want to feel you throb on my tongue… beg me to stop when I don’t.”
She leans in, her breath hot against my skin, her lips just barely grazing the head of my cock.
“You don’t get to come until I say so,” she whispers, teasing the tip with her mouth. “And when you do? You’re gonna say my name like it’s a fucking prayer.”
My hands move straight to her head, fingers tangled in those long black braids.
“Fuuuck, Stella, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” I growl, trying to breathe through the sheer fucking tension pulsing through me.
“Now stop talking… and wrap that filthy fucking mouth around my cock.”
She obliges. Slowly.
Licking up my shaft, dragging her tongue along the underside like she’s trying to ruin me.
I hiss as she slides her mouth over me, warm and perfect, sinking deeper with each inch. My head falls back, a groan clawing out of my chest. The car windows start to fog. My thighs are already tensing, and she’s only just begun.
She sets a rhythm—slow and torturous, then fast and slick, her eyes never leaving mine. She moans around me, and the vibration makes my hips jerk forward.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I growl, tightening my grip on her braids, trying not to lose it already. “You’re gonna make me come, baby, fuck—”
She hums in approval. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow.
And she was right.
I say her name like it’s the only prayer I know.
She stands up, dirt covering her knees, but damn, does the sight of her make my cock harden again.
Stella smirks as she walks closer to me, lifting her skirt up and showing me her bare pussy—she wasn’t wearing panties all night.
I reach out, fingers grazing her thigh as I pull her closer. My hands find her ass, firm and perfect, and I grip her like I’ve earned this—like I’ve been starving for this moment.
Lowering my head, I press a kiss to her bare pussy, slow and reverent. She gasps, a soft moan escaping her lips, and her legs part instinctively for me.
My right hand slips between her thighs, fingers gliding through her soaked folds. She’s drenched—hot, ready, and aching—and it drives me insane.
I slide a finger into her tight cunt, slow and deliberate, feeling her coat my skin as her walls grip me. But just as I start to curl it, she grabs my wrist and yanks it away.
“No,” she says, her voice sharp and commanding. “You don’t get to touch me right now.”
Her eyes burn into mine as she sinks to her knees, straddling me, her bare pussy brushing against the tip of my cock.
Then—slowly, torturously—she lowers herself onto me, inch by inch, her tight heat swallowing me whole.
Every second of it is agony, the kind that borders on heaven.
She kisses me hard, teeth tugging my bottom lip, and I groan.
My hips buck instinctively, desperate for contact, but she pulls back, smug.
Her hands brace on my shoulders. She rises just enough for me to take hold of my cock and line it up. And when she sinks down, burying me to the hilt, we both let out a breathless sound—hers a quiet moan, mine a strangled curse.
Then she stops. Fully seated on me. Not moving.
The tight heat of her wrapped around me, pulsing, clenching—fucking torture.
She leans in, licking up my neck before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw.
“Beg me,” she whispers, her voice soaked in sin. “Tell me you’ve been good. Tell me you didn’t come while we were apart. Beg me to fuck you.”
I fist her braids, pulling her close, desperate.
“Please, Stella. I’ve been such a good fucking boy. I didn’t come, I swear—I waited. I will only come for you. Please. Please fuck me.”
Her eyes gleam. She lifts her hips, leaving just the head of my cock inside her.
“Mmm… that’s it, baby. My good boy.” She sinks down again with a slow, devastating roll.
“Please,” I grit out, hands bruising her hips. “Take me out of my fucking misery. Use me.”
That’s all it takes.
Her rhythm snaps—she starts riding me hard, relentless, grinding down against me, chasing her own release. I match her pace, but I’m on the edge, teeth clenched, desperate to hold on.
“Don’t come until I say so,” she pants, her voice like velvet and smoke.
I have to close my eyes, force my mind anywhere else, because one more stroke and I’m done.
She leans back just enough for me to slip my hand between us, rubbing her clit. Her moans turn louder, less controlled—like she’s unraveling in real time.
“That’s it, baby girl,” I growl. “Use my cock. Make yourself come.”
Her hand shoots out and wraps around my throat, squeezing tight. My breath halts. She slams herself down with a strangled cry, and I feel it—the tremor through her body, the way her pussy clenches around me, pulsing hard.
It’s too much.
The pressure. Her hand at my throat. The wet, perfect vice of her cunt milking me.
I come hard, hips jerking, gasping against the edge of blackness as she rides it out, still holding me in the palm of her hand.
After we both come down from our post-orgasm high, I shift back into the car seat, keeping her in my lap, wrapped in my arms. Her breath is still warm against my neck, her heartbeat thudding in time with mine.
My hand traces a slow path down her spine, grounding us both.
“I don’t need to be in control when I’m with you,” I whisper, my voice low and wrecked. “I don’t need to lead. I just need you.”
My hands are gentle on her hips, grounding myself with the feel of her.
“You could ruin me, Stella. And I’d still thank you for letting me love you.”
She doesn’t speak—just watches me with those eyes that see everything. So I keep going, because I need her to know.
“You are my beginning and my end. You’re the voice in my head, the fire in my chest, the reason I keep choosing to be better.”
I take a breath, my thumb brushing over the place where her heart beats.
“I’d follow you into darkness if that’s where you went. I’d kneel at your feet if that’s where you needed me because loving you isn’t something I do. It’s who I am.”