Stella's POV
He stepped into the shower, the water running over his head, cascading down his shoulders. He approached me, warm palms caressing my face, trailing down my neck to my shoulders, finally resting at my waist, pulling me tightly against him.
His lips pressed against mine, the kiss urgent and deep, his tongue delving into my mouth, entwining with mine, wet and teasing. My hands involuntarily roamed over his chest, feeling his pounding heart, then down to grasp his member, fingertips gliding over the scorching hardness, gently stroking, imagining the impact when it enters me.
He groaned softly, his hand moving to my buttocks, kneading the soft flesh, sending shivers of pleasure through me. I lifted a leg to wrap around his waist, and he pressed me against the cold tile wall, his slick member poised at my entrance, slowly entering. The fullness instantly hit me, and I moaned softly, the walls of my vagina tightly wrapping around him.
He began to thrust, his movements strong and rhythmic, each thrust deep and hitting my sensitive spots. The secretions flowed out along with his entry, mixing with the water, dripping on the tiles. My nipples rubbed against his chest, the pleasure building up layer by layer. I clung to him, nails digging into his back muscles, moans echoing in the steam, growing more and more out of control.
The steam blurred everything, leaving only our intertwined breaths and the intimate collisions.
After who knows how long, as Adam wrapped a towel around me, I felt a cool metal object slip into my fingers. Through the mist in the bathroom, I couldn't see what it was, but I heard Adam's low voice:
"Wedding ring, Mrs. Lancaster. Wear it well."
The next morning, sunlight streaming through the window woke me up. I lay there for a moment, fragments of last night's memories flashing through my mind. Adam's hands in the shower, the cold water not stopping us, and then... a ring?
Did he really give me a ring, or was I dreaming? We were both half asleep last night.
I slowly raised my right hand, taking a sharp breath. A delicate pink diamond sparkled on my ring finger, set in platinum or white gold, surrounded by smaller diamonds. The morning light shone on the diamond, casting rainbow reflections on the ceiling.
Oh my. This is... unbelievable.
"You're awake."
I looked up to see Adam coming out of the closet, already dressed. His gaze immediately fell on my hand, noticing that I had discovered the ring.
"Do you like it?" he asked casually, but I could hear the underlying uncertainty beneath.
"When did you... how did you get this..." I struggled to find the words, still mesmerized by the ring, "When did you buy this?"
He must have planned it. There's no way he just happened to have a perfectly sized ring for me.
Adam didn't answer, but instead walked to the side of the bed, kneeling down with his face level with mine. "Do you like it?" he repeated, his gaze focused on my face, leaning in to kiss me.
"I haven't brushed my teeth," I weakly protested, suddenly embarrassed about my morning breath.
Good answer, Stella. Really on top of things. He gives you a million-dollar ring, and you're worried about your breath.
A smile tugged at Adam's lips. "That's not my concern, Stella."
I looked back at the ring, turning my finger to catch the light. "Yes," I admitted softly, "I really like it."
The look of satisfaction on Adam's face made it worth being honest. He leaned in for a quick kiss on my lips and then stood up.
"It's still early," he checked his watch, "Take a nap. I have meetings all morning."
As he turned to leave, I noticed the simple, classic ring on his left hand, perfectly complementing my more intricate ring. A strange warmth blossomed in my chest at the sight.
He's wearing a wedding ring too. When did that happen?
Adam paused at the door, looking back at me, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be pondering something, then took two steps back to the bed. Before I could react, he bent down to place a gentle kiss on my forehead.
"Good morning, Mrs. Lancaster," he said softly, then left, leaving me staring blankly at his retreating figure.
What's gotten into him? First the ring, now these displays of tenderness. It's like he's a different person. Did he plan to give me the ring all along?
The thought was both exciting and unsettling. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the ring on my finger, strange but not unwelcome.
A firm knock on the door jolted me awake from my nap. The bright sunlight outside indicated it was late morning.
"Come in," I called out, sitting up and quickly running my hands through my disheveled hair.
Joseph entered, his expression as solemn as ever, but I could sense a hint of concern in his eyes.
"Madam, the security report says there's a young man sitting outside the front gate for over an hour. They've asked him to leave multiple times, but he refuses. He also won't say who he's here to see."
I furrowed my brow, reaching for my robe. "How young?"
"A teenager, around sixteen or seventeen," Joseph replied, "The guards aren't sure whether to forcibly remove him or call the police."
"No, don't do that," I quickly said, slipping my feet into slippers, "Let me see who it is first."
Hastily changing into casual attire, I followed Joseph to the front gate of the estate. As we approached, I saw a small figure huddled on the ground outside.
The poor child looked frozen. Who would leave a teenager out in this weather?
The security guard, a burly man in a neat uniform, visibly relaxed when he saw us. "Mrs. Lancaster, he doesn't speak, doesn't move. We're not sure if he's deaf or mute."
"I'm neither deaf nor mute, you idiot!" the boy retorted sharply, lifting his head at the accusation.
I blinked in surprise, recognizing him. Despite wearing jeans and a thin denim jacket, looking like any ordinary teenager, I recognized that face.
"One?" I asked incredulously.
Why would an internationally renowned gaming prodigy be sitting at our gate?
The boy's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with suspicion. "One is just my gaming ID," he muttered, "My real name is Eric Lancaster."
Did I hear that right? Is he related to Adam?
"Eric," I asked cautiously, "Are you Adam's cousin?"
Eric met my gaze, his eyes— a striking green similar to Adam's— a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "You."
Me? Not Adam? This was getting stranger by the minute.
Ten minutes later, I led Eric into the main house, settling him in the living room and offering him a cup of hot coffee.
"Wait here for a moment," I told him, "I need to make a phone call."
I immediately dialed Adam's number.
"Hey, Adam," I said when he answered, "Is Eric your cousin?"
A brief pause. "Yes. Why the sudden interest in him?"
"He's here now, in the house," I explained, "He's been waiting outside the gate for over an hour. Why didn't he just call you? It's cold outside— he could catch a cold sitting out there for so long."
"It's fine," Adam replied coldly, "He won't die. Don't worry about him, I'll deal with it when I get back."
Wow. Even for Adam, that's too callous. What happened between these two?
His indifference in his tone surprised me.
"I'll stay with him until you get back," I said firmly, hanging up before Adam could object.