Discovering Stella (27 page)

Have
I
been
that
obvious?
“My
best
friend,
Julia.
She’s
worried,
but
she worries too
much,
to
the
point
of
her presence
suffocating
me.
It
was
one
of
the many
reasons
I
fled
Melbourne.”
Deserting
Julia
like I
had
was
very
wrong.
I knew
that.
It
wasn’t
her
fault.
She’d
been
there
for
me
in
my
darkest
hour,
and
even
though
I
couldn’t
remember how
or
in
what
capacity,
I knew
she’d
been
there.

“You
really should take
her
next call, Princess.”

Closing
my
eyes
briefly,
I knew that he was right. What I’d
done
— left in the manner I had —
wasn’t
fair to Julz.
She
had
her
own
problems
to deal with. I nodded
my
agreement.

“What about your nursing
job?”

I shrugged. “What
about
it?
I resigned.
I’m
no
longer
a
nurse,”
I answered
curtly,
a little too curtly to be
completely
honest.
“Sorry,
I
don’t
mean to snap like that.
It’s
just
...
all
this
...
it’s
hard,
all
right? I
can’t
talk
about
it
without
wanting to scream
bloody
mur
der.
I
don’t
know if I’ll ever
forgive
him
for
what
he
did.”

Lawson leaned forward and kissed
my
head again.
It
felt nice, comforting.
“I
think
you
will
in
time.”

I scoffed in disbelief. “Yeah?
How
much time?
It’s
been a year and a
half
already.
You’d
think I would’ve forgiven him by
now
if that were the case.”

“Give
it more
time.
Your
emotions are still very
raw.”

I sighed and closed
my
eyes, snuggling
into
his neck.
“I
hope
you’re
right,
but
I just
don’t
think
it’s
possible.”

“I
do,”
he countered, softly rubbing his chin across the
top
of
my
head.
“You’re
such a beautiful and giving person, Stella.
You’ll
forgive him when
you’re
ready.
That may be next week,
or
it
may be next year. Either
way, you’ve
got
it
in
you
to
forgive.”

Tilting
my
head back, I
gazed
into
his eyes, drinking in the sincerity of his words.
He
truly believed I could find
it
within myself to forgive Tristan
for
destroying
my
life.
It
gave me hope, just a little
...
but it
was
more
than
I alone could harness.
Yet,
if Lawson was so convinced that I could do the unthinkable and forgive, then perhaps I could.

Shuffling a little higher, I placed a soft kiss
on
his lips. “Thank
you,”
I whispered after pulling
away.

He
captured
my
mouth again, his kiss a little
more
desper
ate. The faint taste of mint tickled
my
tastebuds
as
he massaged his tongue against mine. Lawson was
an
amazing
 
 
kisser.
Indisputably.
It
was
as
if he had to
tenderly
touch the entire
sur
face of
my
tongue with his own before
taking
his next breath.

I gripped his hair and deepened the kiss, moaning when he matched
my
frenzy.

A
low
growl emanated from his chest, before he rolled
onto
his back,
taking
me along with him,
my
body
now
on
top
of his.

“Fuck,
Stella,
you
taste too fucking
good.”

I raised
my
knees, sitting up to straddle him. Lawson placed his hands
on
my
hips and held me still, while his
blue,
lust-filled eyes probed mine
intently.
We
both stared at each
other,
communicating in
some
intangible way that what was about to happen was a
major
step
for
the both of us.

“I
want
you.”
I barely voiced the words, slowly lifting
my
top
over my
head and unclipping
my
bra, feeling the breeze filtering in through
my
bedroom window tickling
my
nipples.

Lawson’s
grip
on my
hips tightened,
but
he
didn’t
move
 
— he just stared hungrily, appearing to be at war with himself. I
couldn’t
say that I blamed him. I’d fooled him once before and
I’m
not
sure I could guarantee I
wasn’t
fooling him
again
...
fooling myself.

Watching him
nervously,
I was desperate
for
him to do
or
say something. His paused state was kindling
my
insecurity. I knew that he wanted me — he’d made
it
very clear in the change room of Chic Express —
but
after revealing
my
secret and the extent of
how
emotionally destroyed I really was, I
now
doubted
if his desire
for
me was still the same.

Just
as
I was about to ask what was wrong, and inevitably prepare myself
for
his rejection, he sat up slowly and kissed me
passionately,
massaging both
my
breasts with his large, warm hands, hands that cupped me perfectly.

Pleasure blanketed
my
body,
causing me to arch and separate
my
lips from his
as
my
head fell back. His lips instantly found
my
neck, nibbling, kissing and sucking whatever his mouth could reach, emphasising that he
wasn’t
one
to waste time.

“That feels
...
wonderful,”
I sighed deliriously while sliding
my
hands through his hair.

He
groaned and kissed
lower
until his mouth and lips replaced
one
of his hands
on my
breast. “So fucking
good,”
he mumbled
brokenly,
as
he orally caressed
my
chest.

At the sound of his desperate groan,
my
grip
on
his hair
tight
ened, intensifying and escalating the
moment.
He
fumbled with the
button on my
denim shorts until
it
popped
open,
which was when he pulled the zipper down and slid his hand in
my
panties, finding
my
clit.

“Oh
god!” I cried
out,
dropping
my
head forward and pulling his mouth back up to mine. Again, his tongue
worked
magic in
my
mouth,
although what he did with
it
was no trick
or
illusion. I rocked
my
pelvis back and forth, grinding against him and assisting the
movement
of his finger, which
sent
me
into
a crazed lascivious mess.

Pulling away from him and panting
profusely,
I scooted off his lap and eye-fucked him greedily. “Off. I want them
off,”
I instructed, lifting
my
pelvis just slightly and indicating he
remove my
shorts.

His eyes flared with unadulterated filth, and he crawled toward me, grabbing
hold
of the denim and sliding
it
down
my
legs together with
my
panties.

Naked and
completely
vulnerable,
my
body
desperately
craved
the satisfaction
of
him filling
me
physically and
emotionally.
The dire need
for
him
burned
in
my
chest and tortured
my
soul.
Yet
for
the past
eighteen months,
that’s
exactly what I’d
done
to
myself. I’d tortured what soul I had left
by
shutting the
world
out.

“Stella,
you
are so bloody beautiful. Each and every part of
you
makes me fucking
weak,”
he murmured against
my
skin
as
he parted
my
knees and
lowered
his head.

A shallow moan rolled
out
of
my
mouth
as
his lips crept along
my
inner thigh, tantalising me, giving
an
insight
as
to what they would do when they reached the apex of
my
legs. That sweet ache his mouth elicited continued
as
he traced a path along
my
skin, his day-old stubble barely felt
as
he brushed
my
clit before stopping and meeting
my
eyes.

Seeing
Lawson’s
expression saturated with lust
as
he stared up at me from between
my
legs was about the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed.

“Please!” I begged.
“Taste
me.”

He
dipped
lower,
keeping his eyes
resolutely on
mine and slowly — oh-so-slowly — ran his tongue from the opening of
my
pussy right up to the tip of
my
clit. The
heavy,
hungry action of his tongue buckled
my
elbows, resulting in me collapsing
onto
my
back.

He
clenched his big, strong hands around
my
hips and dragged me closer to his mouth before releasing
one
hand and trailing a finger through
my
arousal, which
now
coated
my
core. I automatically clenched the muscles of
my
pussy when that finger stopped at
my
entrance.

“Fucking perfect,” he mumbled, then slid his finger inside me,
all
the while gently lapping at
my
clit.

Heat flooded me. Muscles tensed. Breathing hitched.
My
body was riding a pleasurable high I did
not
want to come down from. “Is that good, Princess?”
He
pulled away so that he could watch his finger penetrate me.

“Yes,”
I moaned,
“so
good.”

And
it
was.
It
was so, so good. The warmth of his breath, the texture of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers
worked
together perfectly, allowing the sensation of
my
climbing orgasm to seize every nerve ending in
my
body.

“Oh,
yes! Fuck!” I cried
out, my
thighs clenching his head in a vice-like grip.

My orgasm hit me
fast
and
hard, basically
coming out of nowhere and
spiralling
me into a state of sated bliss. Heat raced
through
my head. My fingers tingled and toes curled.
It
was
a release I needed, and yet it
also
released deep
anguish as
my chest tightened, my
heart
thudded and my lip trembled. My distraught emotions
surfaced
and I tried desperately to push them back down. I wanted — more
than
anything
— to stay in
this
perfect moment with Lawson, to give
him
as
much pleasure
as
he gave me, to
make
him
happy.
But emotions have a way of
defying
restraint and, together with the
fact
I had not long
ago
revealed and
discussed
my husband’s death, I burst into
tears.
Big, ugly
tears.
Why? Why
can’t
I just let him go ... even when he’s
dead?