There had never been a thought that doubted his growing affection for Stella. The lightening swinging in his chest that made his head spin whenever he saw her was like nothing he’d experienced before, not since Francesca over a decade ago, and that loss was a guilt that he carried with her every day since. Yet, when Stella held gingerly to his wrist, he found himself laying his troubles at her feet, her gaze lowering to search her face. As if she had the answers to all his troubles hidden in the depths of who she was and who he could be with her. The gifts Clem had brought fell with soft thuds to the floor; a few flower petals broke away at their feet, the smell of savory warmth abandoned for the affections Stella was gifting him.
She kissed him, each time he wanted to ask for more, to lean in and discover what it would feel like to kiss every curve and slope of her. Clem’s fingers pressed through her hair, pulling her closer until Stella’s legs were around his waist, and Clem was stumbling in, his palms sliding down her spine spreading over her thighs to hold Stella against him. A low growl vibrated Clem’s throat; he kicked the door shut as he ambled the rest of the way into Stella’s apartment. Tentative and purposeful Clem’s hands slid up the back of Stella’s thighs resting firmly over the curve of her ass as he braced her small frame against the wall.
One hand holding her from behind the other carefully cupping her cheek, a thumb brushing over her full lips. Clem pulled back to catch a breath, his darkened gaze peering up through a curtain of disheveled blonde hair. Catching his breath, Clem squeezed Stella closer, “What are you doing to me, tiny star?” A breathless laugh caught between his lips and the curve of her neck as his lips pressed tender kisses at the slope of her collar bone, up the dip in her throat and along Stella’s jaw. Clem’s pants were growing tighter, a fact he couldn’t hide as he held her closer. Clearing his throat the hand he had against her cheek laced through the silverly locks hanging over her face. “You gotta tell me what you want, Stella.”
“You.” It was the easiest question Stella had ever answered. “Clement Coste.” She said his name like something sacrosanct, while her legs constricted tighter around his waist; pulling the bulge in Clement’s slacks flush against the soft, warm front of her pink panties. They were slightly damp, slick with desire that dripped from inside Stella during their steamy encounter. Her intentions were clear as her hips rocked forward and hands slipped under the hem of Clement’s shirt to slide feathered fingers up the spine of his back. Lusciously full lips ghosted over a pair so perfect in pout and cupid’s bow, she wondered how she’d lived so long without knowing them. Stella felt breathless, but she knew she’d let all the air be sucked from her body if it meant more of this.
“Can I have you?” A quiet, earnest request. “Will you be mine?” For Stella, sex wasn’t just sex. It couldn’t be. Her tender heart required a mental and emotional connection before physical intimacy could happen. Probably why she’d only ever been with two men before. Probably why she was asking for exclusivity now. “Only mine?” How could she share Clement, when he took up permanent residence in her heart?
There was a lust in her body impatient for an answer. Her hands were hungry for more of his flesh, sprawling out wide then dragging, soft finger tips down his broad back. The action brought their chests flush and made Stella ache for a closeness their clothes would not provide. To feel his skin right up against hers, each of their curves and slopes interlocked in a way she could only exchange with someone with who she felt true feelings. Dinner was forgotten. A night of planned out moments forgone for Stella’s only want. The sound of which tumbled from her lips, again, this time with a hint of hope that he shared her desires. “Clement?”
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