A Sorta Fairytale (11 page)

Chapter 18

Thomas

“Mmm, Stella,” I growl, running my fingers over the satin sheets filled with my cum, her arousal. My eyes open. She’s not here. “Stella?” I get up from the bed. “Stella?” I say repeatedly. I run rampant all through the loft, tearing it up. Piece by piece. The loft I’ve spent more on than I care to admit. Money I could’ve spent on Stella. The one I paid an interior designer to decorate. I’m now tossing thousand dollar pillows and blankets around. Pushing around furniture and scuffing up the hardwood floors. I take my anger out on vases. Anything fragile. They break and shatter to the floor. Thousands of dollars burning before my very eyes. But I don’t give a damn about any of it. I just care about finding Stella. I know she’s left. I don’t understand why. Yes, I do. Him. Alex.

The bastard who’s stolen a piece of my beautiful girl’s heart. I will make damn fucking sure I win her heart over him. He will not get her. She is mine. I will do whatever I have to. Pay him off. I need to find him, and fast. Before he wins her heart even more.

I know I screwed up, big time. But I can’t let someone else win. I won’t let it happen. He will lose. I was born and raised in football. It’s in my blood. It runs through my veins. Playing football taught me determination, perseverance, and to never give up. It’s also given me a streak of adrenaline and the thrill of the chase. To win. It transformed into becoming a lawyer in my adult life. Yes, I love watching the defendant rot in prison for murder, rape. But it’s the thrill of winning I love so much.

This is the same. Nothing more. Nothing less. I want to win Stella. I will win her over him. No matter what.

Chapter 19

Stella and Alex

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Shivers run down my spine. “Good morning, Alex.” I smile sweetly. “What did you have planned today?”

“I thought we could go for a picnic in the park,” you say, bringing a wooden basket into plain view. “What do you think?”

“Any sandwiches in there?” I ask, trying to sneak a peek into the basket.

“Ah!” you say, swiping it away from me. “You shall see once we get there. So come on. Let’s get going.”

I whine. “But it’s so early!”

Placing the picnic basket down, you grab a cup from the floor. “I also brought this for you, grumpy pants.”

“Mmm.” Taking it from your hands, I breathe in the caffeine flavor. Taking a few small sips of the hot drink, I say, “Thank you so much.” Leaning up on my tip toes, I give you a kiss. Our kisses take my breath away. That’s all we’ve done, and I’m okay with it. Because like you said when we first met,
“I want to get to know you.”
So that’s what we’ve done. We’re getting to know one another. Going to the movies. Having picnics in the park. Going to art museums. It’s not much fun for me, but I love the smile on your face when we walk around. My mind and heart have opened up to a place I didn’t think was, well, quite frankly possible. I’m starting to fall for you. Hard. Fast. Yes, I have the tingles and the butterflies and all of the amazing sexual feelings. But I push them aside. Because I can’t get enough of you. You put your heart and soul into everything you do. I find that quite refreshing, and it intrigues me. It has from the beginning. The closer I get to you, though, my heart breaks even more. This twist of lies and manipulation. The hurt I feel for both of you. The hiding. The secrets. There are more than you’re even aware of. I didn’t think it was possible until I met you. I wonder what Thomas would think. How you would feel. How you would act. I wonder what you would say to me. To us. The secrets. They’re lurking behind the shadows, in the dark. But they’re there. They always are. I can’t get rid of them. I have to face them head on. Sooner or later everything is going to come out into the open, and then I won’t know what else to do except clean up the mess left behind.

“You taste good.” Your eyes grow dark and stare into mine.

I smile. “Would you like another?” Your arms wrap around my waist, pulling me to you. The coffee almost splatters all over us. Luckily, though, it doesn’t. “Whoa.” I giggle.

“Yes. I. Would.”

The way you speak those three words sends shivers down my spine and makes my breath increase. My tongue darts out and wets my lips. “What are you waiting for?”

Looking away, you stare at my hair as your fingers wrap around it. The smooth touch of your skin against mine makes me shake. Quickly, your eyes look back to mine with even more hunger and lust than before.
I want you to kiss me. God, how I want you to kiss me.
You take your time, running your fingers through my hair, cupping my face. Looking down at my lips like they’re a prized possession.

“Kiss me, Alex,” I demand.

“Oh.” You smile. “I’m going to,” you say while leaning down against my face. Speaking against my lips. Slowly, my eyes flutter closed. I know it’s coming. I know you can’t hold back any longer. The tease you’re loving so much. Torturing me. Pushing me over. Making me beg and plead. And just when the skin on skin contact happens, your lips against mine, our mouths beginning to open, a throat clears from behind us. We’re frozen. Statues. Not wanting to turn around.

My heart races. I’m nervous.
Is it Thomas?
We look at one another, and a smile appears on your face. I dart around your frame and see the neighbor. “Oh, Mrs. Jackson. How are you today?” I try to forget she’s just witnessed us fooling around with one another in the middle of the hallway of my apartment building. My very gossipy apartment building.

But she doesn’t answer. Instead, she makes a grumbling noise and mutters a few words under her breath, slamming the door behind her. I look back toward you. I see something in your eyes that wasn’t there before. “Alex?”

You don’t answer, just wave a hand and look down at your feet. “Hey,” I mutter, placing a hand underneath your chin and lifting it. When our eyes meet, I ask, “What’s the matter?”

But again you wave a hand. “Forget about it, Stella.”

“O-o-okay,” I drag out. “Did I do something wrong?”

Shaking your head, you mutter, “no.”

I take a few steps back from you, and it’s almost like the weather can predict your emotions, because the clash of thunder booms from right outside the window of my small living room.

“Dammit,” you whine. “I really wanted to go on that picnic.”

“Well, maybe it’ll die down in a bit. How about you just come on in? We can put the food in the fridge, and I’ll get ready. We can watch a movie, maybe? Or, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” you concede.

Placing the coffee down, I grab your shoulders and shake you. “Oh, cheer up, Alex! Come on,” I say, moving a hand down toward yours. I start to pull you in behind me when you take your hands from mine, placing them in your front pockets. “Seriously. What the hell is going on with you?”

You sigh. “Can we just go inside?”

“Yeah, sure,” I snap out. Swiping the picnic basket from the ground, I stomp into the kitchen and drag open the fridge door. Luckily, there’s not much in my fridge besides some yogurt, water, and my favorite boxed wine, so I just toss the entire basket in. Closing the door, I turn around and lean against it. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

You sigh. “I’m just tired of it.”

“Tired of what?” I wave my hands in the air. I don’t understand it. One second you’re a happy-go-lucky person, and the next you’re a big butthead. “What the hell is the matter with you? You’re being a jerk right now.”

“Me?” You laugh. “How am I being a jerk? When you have that neighbor of yours.”

My features completely change. The anger in my voice turns to sincerity. The bitterness and rage I feel toward you turns to sensitivity. “Alex,” I whisper, walking toward you. “Forget about her, okay?”

You stand there, stiff as a board, not making any movement or effort to let me comfort you. So, I do what I can. I grab your hand and gently guide you into the living room. “Sit down,” I sigh, and you comply. I start to sit down next to you when your arms wrap around my waist and pull me to you. You move us so we’re lying down on the couch, your arms wrapped safely around me. My legs entwined in yours. My head on your chest listening to the synchronized beats of our hearts.

“That’s better,” you sigh contently into my hair.

The warmth of your breath gives me peace of mind. It lets me know everything is okay. I hear your small, light sighs of content. And they give me calmness for a few minutes, but then I say your name.

“Stella,” you say sternly. “Just let me hold you in my arms for a while.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine with you holding me, Alex.”

“You are?” Your voice is filled with surprise.

“Yes. I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

Kissing the back of my head, you say, “I am now.”

Chapter 20

Stella & Alex

“I want to paint you.”

I look up, amazed. We’re relaxing on your couch, watching television. I’m comforted by your touch. The warmth of your body against mine. The closeness I feel when I’m with you. “Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“When would you like to paint me?”

You smile down at me, running fingers through my hair and giving me goose bumps. “Does now work?”

I start to laugh but stop when I see the serious look on your face. “Really?” I curl up further into your warmth, tightening my hold on you so you can’t move. “But I’m so comfy.”

You laugh and slowly crawl out of the kung-fu grip I have on you. “No can do, sexy legs. I’ve wanted to paint you ever since that day in the garden. I’ve imagined it, and I really want to now.”

“Okay,” I grumble, getting up from the couch and fixing my bed head. “Where do you want me?”

You place your hands in the front pockets of your jeans, swaying back and forth. “Where would you feel most comfortable?”

I wiggle a hand in your face. “Nope. Don’t even think about it. This whole painting was your idea, so why don’t you come up with everything?” Falling back on the couch, I extend my arms behind my head and close my eyes. “If you ask me, I was perfectly fine cuddling with you on the couch before you so
rudely
interrupted us.”

You laugh, and I feel your lips against mine. “All right, fine. I know where I want you.”

My eyes still closed, I ask, “Oh?”

Rubbing your nose against mine, you say, “The bedroom.”

My eyes blink open. “Oh?” I ask excitedly.

That makes you laugh. “Not in the way you’re thinking, you horn dog.”

“For you,” I swoon.

“Goddamn,” you mutter under your breath as you turn and walk away from me. “You have no idea just how sexy you are, Stel.”

I sit up. “You know, Alex, you could always do something about it. That is, if you wanted.”

You’re over to me in a matter of seconds. “God, I want you, Stella. You’re crazy if you don’t think I do.”

“But?”

“But I want you to myself. I want to know that when I touch you someday, I’m the only one. When I hold you at night, I’m the only one.”

“If you are, then you
will
be the one holding me at night.”

You look at me sideways, clearly not understanding what I said. I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t understand either. “What do you mean?”

“I never sleep over at Thomas’s apartment.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “I’m not comfortable enough. It’s one of the rules we set in the beginning. We don’t even cuddle.”

You sit down next to me, placing a hand on my upper thigh, gripping it, giving me some sort of comfort and warmth only you can give. “What are the other rules?”

I push you off of me. “They’re not important, Alex. I promised you that when I was with you it would just be the two of us. And dammit, I intend to keep that promise to you.”

You nod. “Well, thank you, Stella, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

I finally look over to you. “I’m not mad. I just want to keep that promise. It’s one of the only things I can really give.”

I feel your hand take mine. Bringing it to your lips, you kiss it and whisper, “Thank you.”

I nod, and we look at one another. No words needed. Just understanding, compassion, wonderment. Wonderment of the future. Of what will happen. I’m still trying to figure that whole thing out. It’s not a puzzle or a difficult mathematical equation few can solve. This is real life. You can’t press
pause
or
rewind.
It doesn’t work like that. The only thing life gives us is the possibility of moving forward, and hopefully we learn along the way.

Clapping your hands together, you stand up. “Now scoot that ass of yours in the bedroom, pronto.”

Giggling, I say, “Yes, master,” and get up from the couch. While I walk past you and into the bedroom, you smack me on the ass, causing me to yelp. “What the hell was that for?”

You shrug. “I like smacking your ass. It’s a real nice one.”

I stop walking and cross my arms. “Oh yeah, Alex? Just nice?”

You laugh. “Stel, it’s a very nice ass. From what I see through the jeans and yoga pants and everything else you wear that’s covering it. Yeah, it’s a real nice one. Now take the damn compliment, will ya?”

It gives me an idea, and I smile wide.

“What’s that smile for, you sneak?”

I wring my fingers together.
Should I do it? Yes
. “Will you stay out here for a second?”

“O-o-okay?”

“Trust me on this one, Alex. Just please stay out here for a second. I want to get freshened up.” Grabbing the handle of the door to your bedroom, I swing it closed behind me.

“Fine then!” you shout back.

Resting back against the door, I close my eyes. I know I want to. I know I need to. I want to do this. I just don’t know what your reaction will be. You knock on the door, and I jump. “Yeah?”

“Everything all right in there?”

“Um, yeah!” I shout back. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Okay. Just holler when you’re done.”

“I will!” I call from the bathroom. Studying myself in the mirror, I clean up the smeared makeup from resting on your chest and brush through my hair using my fingers. Slowly, I start to unzip the jacket I have on, relieved I wore a decent bra and thong today. Dropping the jacket to the floor, I unbutton and unzip the shorts. “Okay, you can do this, Stel,” I say to myself. My hands shake and become clammy. I can’t believe I’m this nervous. I’ve never been so nervous before in my entire life, undressing in front of someone I’m comfortable with. I don’t think I’ve ever even been this comfortable before with another human being. But we aren’t fucking. You’re painting me. You’re watching me. Studying me. You’ll see all my flaws and weaknesses. I think that’s what scares me. Taking in a deep breath, I walk over to the bed and lie down, resting my head on the pillow. “You can come in now.”

“Finally!” You say, opening the door. “You were making me…”

I smirk when I see your mouth fall open, stopping mid-sentence. “Nervous?”

You let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. What are you doing, Stel?”

“I figured we could do something more than just you painting me…with clothes on.” Sitting up, I place my hands behind my back and unclasp the bra. My breasts fall out. Nipples tighten. Belly clenches. Legs shake.

“Goddamn, Stel. What are you doing?”

Tossing the bra at your feet, I ask, “What do you think?” I get onto my knees and crawl over to you, lying on my stomach, resting my head in your hands. “Do you like it?” I see your eyes. They’re glued to my ass, right where I was hoping you’d be looking. “So, I’m gonna guess you like what you see?”

Your eyes dart to mine. “Like? I fucking love it. Makes me want to fuck you so badly right now.”

My belly swarms. “I’m not complaining.”

“Stella,” you say sternly.

Walking out of the room, I hear a lot of rummaging. I think you’re mad at me. I’m just about to get up and grab my clothes, ashamed, embarrassed you would reject me. At the last possible second, you save me.

You walk in holding the easel and paints. “Not at all. But I know if I don’t start painting you, I won’t get around to it.”

“Oh.” I smile. “Okay. How would you like me?”

Clearing your throat you say, “Thong off.”

“Alex,” I purr. “Are you sure you want to tempt yourself like that?”

I watch as you think it over. You look away from me, your mouth moving, almost like you’re having a conversation with yourself. “As shitty as it’s going to be with your naked body tempting me, I’ll take it. I need to see you, Stella. All of you. Now, take your thong off.”

I nod and stand from the bed. I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’m in awe of you, the way you take control. I would’ve never thought that of you. It turns me on. Placing my hands under the strings of my thong, I push it down my body and toss it to the side. I don’t do anything else. I want you to tell me what to do.

“Now lie on the bed.”

Again, I listen.

“Lie on your back. Rest your head on the pillow.”

Again, I obey and lie down, closing my eyes. Keeping them closed. Allowing all of my other senses to take over. The smell of the paint. The wooden easel as you get it situated. The squeak of the chair when you sit down on it.

“Now put your left arm over your head.”

I obey.

“Good,” you whisper. “Just relax, Stella. I’m going to paint you now.”

I let out a heavy breath and open my eyes. You’re staring right at me, a look of sex smeared across your face. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” I admit.

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Why?”

I watch as you spread the colors on the board and mix them together for the beginning strokes of your masterpiece. “Because you’re studying me.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “That’s what I love most about it. Seeing your beautiful face. Perky tits. Your legs covering what I want so badly. You have no idea what I want to do right now.”

My heart jumps. “What do you want to do?”

You look around the canvas at me. “I want to crawl up your beautiful body and kiss you. Everywhere.”

I suck in a breath.

“Does that turn you on, Stella?”

“Yes,” I whimper. I move my body slightly, trying to push those feelings aside.

“Are you nervous now, Stella?”

I hear the paintbrush glide against the material. “No.”

“What are you then?”

Should I say it?
“Wet.”

“Fuck,” you mutter. “God, I want you. Fucking shit, this is absolutely killing me painting you like this.”

“You could always quit the painting, Alex. Just a suggestion.”

“Like I said, I’ll touch you when you’re mine. When you’re all mine.”

What if I never am?
I push those thoughts aside. I don’t want to be sad today. I want to live in the moment. I want you to paint me. I want to see what I look like through your eyes. This is yours. Painting. It’s your craft. Your creation for the world. It’s how you express yourself, and then nervousness washes over me, and I bite my lip. I want this with you. I want you to push my limits, because I want to be comfortable with you in every single way a person can. I want you to see me at my worst, best, and everything in between. So I stay still and let you paint me. I watch as your brows pinch together. As your head moves to the side, looking at the painting then back to me. I can already see the words running through your head, so I ask. “What are you thinking, Alex?” I want to know if I’m right. I want to see if I know you as well as I think I do. As well as you know me. Very.

Pushing the paints to the side, you sigh and rub the back of your neck. “Honestly? I’m thinking I’m an awesome painter and creator of beautiful things. But when it comes to you, nothing will ever come close. No matter if it was Van Gogh with his paints or Shakespeare with his words. Nothing will ever come close enough to what it’s like to really see you. Be with you. Want you. Love you. The two things don’t compare. There’s no contest.”

I push away those two words close to the end.
Love you.
And I think about everything else you said. Tears fill my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome, Stella.” You start to duck your head back to the painting when you say my name.

“Yes?”

Sighing, you say, “I pray, and, Stella, I don’t pray. I didn’t pray until I met you. There was nothing worth praying for. But I pray for you.”

“What do you pray for?”

“I pray one day you see yourself through my eyes. I pray we end up together. But what I pray for most is that you find happiness, because that is all I want. I want to see that beautiful smile on your face, light in your eyes, and hear laughter in your voice. I pray that it’s because of me, but if it isn’t, then I’ll be fine just knowing you still have it.”

Tears fall. Freely. Willingly. Unstoppable. A sense of comfort, safety, and love washes over me. I think about everything I’ve put you two through. Especially you. A willing participant, and I wonder how much further you can go before you break. I’m not sure how long I lie on that bed, and it doesn’t matter. It seems no matter the time I spend with you, every second is worth it. So I take it and watch you. I try to memorize every single feature of your body, soul, self.

Until you say, “All done.”

I smile. A small one, because this is it. The moment of everything. How you see me. It’ll show how you feel for me, although I think I already know. Sitting up, I stretch my arms over my head, releasing a small whimper. “Can I look at it?”