Jason fled the kitchen, words choking in his throat, his pulse a wild drumbeat echoing Stella's confession.
I like ropes. Gags. Humiliation.
That hole in my jeans wasn't an accident. I'm fucked up.
Her voice looped in his skull, relentless, searing.
He collapsed onto his bed, palms slick with sweat, his cock straining against his jeans, his heart a caged beast.
The image of her trembling on that crowded bus, her pussy clenching around his fingers, her whispered truths in the dim kitchen light—it consumed him, a wildfire roaring through his veins.
Hours bled away, the house sinking into a heavy silence.
Past midnight, the air thick with humid stillness, Jason rose.
His bare feet whispered against the carpet, each step deliberate, drawn toward the inevitable.
The hallway stretched dark and endless, her door a barrier glowing with a faint golden light seeping beneath. She was awake.
He stood frozen, hand hovering, breath shallow.
Listening.
A soft knock broke the silence.
A pause, then her voice, soft, uncertain. "...Jason?"
He pushed the door open.
Stella sat at the foot of her bed, a vision in a loose silk robe, the fabric clinging to her damp, freshly showered skin.
Her legs were crossed, the robe barely concealing the curves of her thighs, her hair a cascade of dark waves.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him, but her lips stayed silent, parted, waiting.
Jason stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click that felt like a vow.
"I can give it to you," he said, his voice low, steady, laced with heat. No hesitation. Only need.
She blinked, her breath catching. "What?"
"Everything you want." He took a step closer, his gaze locked on hers. "The ropes. The gags. The touch in public. Whatever's in that dark corner of your mind—you don't have to hide it from me."
Stella rose slowly, the robe shifting, teasing the lush lines of her body. "Jason, no. That was… a mistake. It shouldn't have happened."
"But it did." Another step, his voice unwavering. "And you didn't stop it. You wanted it."
Her lips parted, her eyes darting to the side, a flicker of guilt warring with something deeper. "That doesn't make it okay."
"You said it yourself—you have urges. Needs you can't ask for. I'm not asking for anything from you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, raw and deliberate. "I'm offering."
She stepped back, her breath hitching, but her body betrayed her—a subtle tremor, a flush creeping up her neck. "You don't know what you're saying."
"I do." He knelt before her, his hands finding her knees, the silk of her robe cool against his palms. "You need it. And I need you to have it."
Stella froze, her eyes wide, searching his. The air pulsed with unspoken truths, each second a thunderclap in the quiet room.
Then she exhaled, a long, trembling breath, and whispered, "One time."
Jason's pulse surged, his fingers tightening on her knees.
She spoke again, firmer, her voice a blade wrapped in velvet.
"Just once. If I let you… if I give you one night—one chance—to show me what you think you can handle… it ends there. No more. You get one shot."
Her robe parted further, revealing the smooth expanse of her thighs. She didn't move to cover herself.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, sharp and haunted, dripping with need. "If I give you this, you better be ready for what I really want."
Jason leaned in, his breath grazing her lips, the air between them electric, heavy with the weight of what was to come.
"I'm already hard," he murmured, his voice a low growl, sealing the pact.