“Promise you’re not doing this because you feel like you owe me.”
“The only thing I owe you is the follow-through on what I didn’t get to do in that cabin,” Teddy said. “Now get on the bed.”
Stella sat down on the captain’s bed and watched as he stood and unbuttoned his pants.
Teddy was glorious, vital, storm-blown, shirtless, damp hair curling ever so slightly. He stood over her and she laid back, letting him look his fill.
She wasn’t normally so comfortable being stared at, but with all they had been through in the past few days, she felt like he already knew her, like there was nothing he would find that he didn’t somehow already know.
His gaze was hooded, hungry in a way that made her clench her thighs together.
Stella didn’t want to worry anymore. Her body was taut with fear and her heart so heavy with grief that she worried if she lay on the treehouse floor, she’d never get back up.
Teddy crawled over her and cupped her face with one hand. “Tell me what you need, because if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think it’s something similar to what I gave you last night.”
“Make me feel good.”
He kissed down the valley between her breasts but paused at herstomach. His fingers skimmed her side, and she went rigid when she realized why. Her scar.
She’d forgotten it was there. She was so desperate to feel his hands all over her. She hadn’t kept any clothing on and now he could see the mark her foolishness had left on her.
His callused fingers scraped tenderly over the ugly skin before he kissed each of the points of the mark.
“Don’t—” she gasped.
He frowned. “Why?”
“It’s ugly. It ruined my constellation.” She traced the freckles on her side without needing to look. She’d felt that pattern traced into her skin so frequently that she could retrace it by touch alone.
“No,Minyha. Your constellation isn’t ruined. It’s remade.” He brushed his lips over the jagged scar. “I didn’t see it before the scar, but this is beautiful. Look at what you’ve conquered. I only see your strength written on your skin.”
Stella looked away, tears pricking at her eyes. Surely he was just saying that. Of course scars could be beautiful. The matching crescent scars on her parents’ hands, or the golden ones over their hearts—those were beautiful scars made from love. This was an ugly reminder of how much she’d miscalculated and of what her failure could cost.
He kissed the mark. “Tell me how to help.”
“I want.” That was the complete thought. She didn’t want one thing. She wanted all the things. She wanted to forget, to feel everything and nothing, to feel pain and pleasure, to feel cared for and used. She was made of want.
And Teddy instinctively understood.
He wrapped his arms under her thighs and pinned her hips to the bed. He held her gaze as he slowly licked up her center. The eye contact alone was obscene, but the sensation and the way he flicked his tongue over her clit sent a shiver through her body.
Teddy feasted on her, fucking her with his tongue like a man possessed. He didn’t slow down when she clawed at his wrists, didn’t mellow his pace when an orgasm shook through her. She arched, andhe lifted her hips off the bed, holding her suspended, her shoulders still on the bed as he fought to keep control of her squirming body. He didn’t stop until she was practically sobbing and every bit of pain in her body was transmuted into pleasure.
He slowly lowered her back to the bed, kissing her inner thighs, then her stomach, the scars on both her sides, her breasts, and finally her mouth.
Teddy caged her in, looking down on her with smug satisfaction on his face that was very much earned. “Are you satisfied?”
“I want more,” she rasped.
Teddy groaned against her inner thigh. “Thank fucking gods.”
He stood and shoved off his pants, fisting his cock in his hand.
She hated that it was so perfect. He was perfect everywhere else; he didn’t also deserve to have a perfect cock. He was big and thick, but not so much so that she didn’t think she could take it.
He spit into his hand and stroked himself roughly a couple of times before kneeling on the bed and notching himself at her entrance.
Painstakingly slowly, he pushed inside her. She wanted him to speed up, to slow down, to stop looking into her eyes like he was enamored, to stop being so handsome and kind because it made her feel terrified and safe at the same time.
