Fear chills me straight through my bones.
He exhales once, slow, deliberate, before speaking again. “I’ll call you when I’m in town. I’ll tell you where to meet me. And then, Stellina…” His voice curls into something cruel, amused. “…then we’ll see if you really meant what you just said.”
I stare at the phone still warm in my hands, my pulse hammering in my ears. The silence feels like it could crush me. Finally, I lift my eyes to Elaine. “He’ll be here in a couple of days.”
Her face doesn’t change—no shock, no panic. Just a slow, steady nod, like she already knew this was how it would end.
The days blur after that. I go through the motions of normalcy. Dinner with the girls. Snuggles with my niece. Hollow laughter that echoes thinly in my chest. At work, I bury myself until exhaustion numbs me, and when I finally make it home, I scrub floors, polish glass, rearrange shelves—anything to keep my hands moving so my thoughts don’t devour me.
But every night, Elaine is there. Every night we lie in the dark, our secrets unraveling between whispers, our fears spilling into the spaces we don’t dare speak in daylight. She doesn’t flinch from me. She doesn’t let me flinch from her.
And each night, I fall a little harder. A little deeper. I don’t tell her—not yet. I don’t know if I’m ready to tell her the truth. But it’s there, coiled and certain, as undeniable as the storm crawling closer with every heartbeat.
She kisses me slowly at first, almost sweetly, almost tender—but I can feel it coiled inside her, the hunger straining at its leash. Her mouth trails down my throat, teeth scraping, tongue soothing, and when she lifts my shirt, her lips close around my nipple like she’s been starving. I gasp, arching, her hand pinning my hip as if to remind me I’m not going anywhere.
“Fuck, Stella,” she breathes against me, the vibration making me shudder. Her tongue flicks, her teeth tug, and my back bows off the bed, desperate for more.
Her hand slips lower, fingers skimming over my stomach, teasing the edge of my panties. She doesn’t rush, doesn’t give me what I’m begging for with every broken sound spilling from my throat. She lingers, strokes, and worships—until I’m shaking apart from anticipation.
When she finally slides her hand between my thighs, her growl rumbles against my skin. “God, you’re dripping. You’re always so wet for me, Widow.”
I choke on a moan, burying my fingers in her hair. “Only you.”
Her lips curve against my chest, wicked and tender at once. “Good girl.” She slides her fingers through my slick folds, stroking slow, maddening circles around my clit. “Let me have you, Stella. Let me take you apart.”
The words don’t feel like a command. They feel like devotion, like a vow. And when she pushes inside me, deep and unhurried, my whole body clenches around her.
I cry out, grinding against her hand, but she doesn’t give me everything at once. She builds me slowly, pulling me higher and higher until my nails rake down her back. My pleas turnincoherent, all broken fragments of her name, curses, and worship.
“Look at me,” she growls, dragging her mouth back to mine. I do, and I drown in the feral need blazing in her eyes, in the intimacy so sharp it almost hurts.
Her pace sharpens, fingers thrusting deep, her thumb rolling tight over my clit, and the pleasure slams through me. I come undone hard, crying her name like a prayer, shaking apart beneath her.
But she doesn’t stop. She keeps me pinned, keeps me open, wrecking me over and over until I’m sobbing into her mouth, until I’m nothing but wreckage in her hands.
And when I can’t take anymore, I flip her beneath me, wild and desperate, my mouth trailing down her stomach. Her breath shudders, a low moan spilling from her lips, and when I finally taste her, she curses loudly and brokenly.
Her thighs tremble as I spread them, her breath breaking into ragged pieces when my mouth closes over her clit. I savor her, slow at first, tongue circling, teasing, dragging her higher, one careful stroke at a time. Her hands clutch at the sheets, then at my hair, pulling me closer like she can’t stand even an inch of space between us.
“Stella,” she gasps, her voice cracking, my name a plea and a warning in one.
I hum against her, the vibration making her hips jerk. My fingers slide inside her, slick and hot, filling her as I curl deep, finding the spot that makes her cry out loud and sharp.
“Fuck—yes, right there,” she moans, the sound wrecked, desperate. “Don’t you dare stop.”
I don’t. I don’t stop until she’s thrashing beneath me, until her control is gone and her nails are raking fire down my arms. I take her cries into me, drinking down every broken sound she gives.
She shatters hard, her body clenching around my fingers, her legs tightening around my head as if she’s trying to hold on and push me away at once. But I don’t let her. I keep going, drawing out every wave, swallowing her down like I was made for this.
When I finally ease back, she’s trembling, sweat-slick, her chest rising and falling fast. I crawl up her body, kissing every inch of skin I can reach, until I’m hovering over her, my forehead pressed to hers.
Her eyes are wild, glassy with tears and lust. I kiss her slowly, filthy and tender all at once, letting her taste herself on my lips.
“Mine,” she whispers against my mouth.
“Yours,” I breathe back, my voice raw.
We stay tangled like that, shaking, undone, worship and hunger tangled into one, until the silence feels almost holy.
