Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“So that’s it?” My voice is too rough for my own liking. “You aren’t going to Cornell. What will you do then?”
And do those plans include me? That’s the question I can’t bring myself to ask. I told Stella she doesn’t love me, and deep down, a part of me still wishes she didn’t. I’m the worst possible thing for her. In the end, it’s inevitable that I will fail her, just as I failed Katie.
“I know it might sound crazy,” she answers, oblivious to the current war raging on in my mind. “But I think I want to do photography.”
“It’s not crazy if that’s what you want.”
She looks at me as if she doesn’t quite believe me. As if it can’t be that easy, and why should it? I’ve given her a hard time about everything else.
“You really think so?” she asks.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think so. You love photography. I think it’s the appropriate choice to pursue.”
“But what if it’s a mistake?” She frowns. “What if years from now, I’m broke and miserable, wishing I had gone to Cornell?”
“Nothing in life is certain,” I tell her. “Except that we all have limited time. You should make the most of it while you’re here. You only get one chance, Stella. Don’t make decisions based on fear. Go after what you want and don’t look back.”
“That’s the most passionate speech I’ve ever heard you give.” Her lips tilt up into a beautiful smile. “And a little hypocritical, I might add.”
I knew that was coming, and I don’t deny it.
“What would make you happy?” She turns the question around on me.
For once, I don’t know how to answer to that. Any real chance at happiness died the day Katie did too. After that, I didn’t feel like I deserved to be alive, let alone happy. And for the past five years, I’ve done a damn good job reminding myself of that. But as I consider Stella’s question, I know what would make me happy, and it’s so simple it’s terrifying. My second chance is sitting right in front of me.
“Remind me again why we aren’t having sex right now,” I say.
“Wet paint.” Stella points to her lips with a mischievous smile. “Do you want to be the kind of man who ruins my lipstick?”
I drag her into my lap and force her to arch back as I bite at her throat. “If I’m not, then I’m not doing my job properly.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
STELLA
FOR FIVE BLISSFUL DAYS, Sebastian and I live in our own little bubble where nothing else can touch us. We wake up, have sex, eat breakfast, and then repeat. In the afternoons, we’ve taken to lying by the fire and napping, which I can’t seem to get enough of lately.
Sebastian asks me several times if I’m okay, but I assure him it’s just the school year catching up with me. I’m exhausted, but I’m content.
On Christmas morning, he surprises me with a gift, and I feel like an asshole because I have nothing for him. When I tell him so, he doesn’t look like he cares in the least.
“Your pussy is my gift,” he says crudely. “And I’ll be enjoying it several times today. Now open it.”
I take the box from him and gently pry off the lid to find a white gold bar necklace with an engraving that couldn’t be more fitting from Sebastian. Owned is scrawled across the back in elegant calligraphy font. It’s beautiful, and it looks like it cost more than any other piece of jewelry I’ve ever worn.
“Wear it always,” he commands in a gravelly voice. “And remember who you belong to.”
The attention whore in me claps gleefully as I hand it over to him. “Can you help me put it on?”
He secures the chain around my neck and brushes my hair to the side before his lips are on me. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” I whisper. And you. “Thank you.”
“Good.” He bites into my neck. “You can love it on your knees while you deep throat my cock.”
As it turns out, he means that quite literally. After taking my clothes off, Sebastian gets into the holiday spirit by face-fucking me on my knees. Once that’s out of his system, he takes me against the floor-to-ceiling windows and makes love to me in front of the fire. It’s no small wonder that I’m exhausted, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to feel his pulse inside of me until I turn to dust.
We spend the rest of the afternoon naked with my head against his chest while he drapes his arm over me casually. It feels comfortable. It almost feels too perfect, and when his phone shatters the silence between us, it turns out that I’m right.
At first, he ignores it, humming his frustration as he traces the lines of my body, which is admittedly a little softer than I’d like it to be. If my mother saw me now, she’d probably accuse me of stress eating and make arrangements to send me to fat camp on the first available bus. But Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind, or even notice, as far as I can tell.