Elvie
Cassian and I sat across from each other at the dining table, eating in silence. I couldn’t stop stealing glances at him. My mind kept rushing back to the kitchen, to the exact moment he had pressed his body against mine and whispered those filthy words into my ear only to pull back and walk away without touching me any further.
I hated to admit it, but I was craving his touch so badly. I probably sounded like a desperate, horny mess, but Cassian’s hands were magic. One touch from him, and I was completely hooked, wanting more.
He reached for his glass of water and took a slow sip. My eyes tracked the motion, landing on his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.
Damn. My legs instantly felt like jelly, and a fresh wave of wetness pooled between my thighs. I had to bite my bottom lip hard just to stop a soft noise from slipping out of my mouth.
Cassian set the glass back down on the table with a quiet click. He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a seductive look I was beginning to know all too well.
"Why aren’t you eating?" he asked smoothly.
I blinked, looking down to realize my fork was paused mid-air halfway to my mouth.
Right. I wasn’t eating because sitting in front of Cassian was already too much of a distraction let alone watching the slow, deliberate way he ate.
"Yes, sure," I mumbled quickly, nodding as I forced myself to take a bite.
I didn’t miss the small smirk that touched his lips. A moment later, he pushed his chair back and stood up.
"Clean up when you’re done," he said, his deep voice carrying over his shoulder. "And by the way, the food was nice."
With that, he turned around and walked upstairs, his heavy footsteps fading up the staircase.
I sat there, blinking at his empty chair. Was that really all? He just left like that? A sharp pang of disappointment hit my chest. I felt stupid for getting so worked up, for expecting something more to happen right there in the kitchen or at the table.
Feeling a little deflated, I finished my plate, cleared the table, and washed the dishes. Once the kitchen was clean, I headed upstairs to my room.
I climbed into bed and pulled out my phone to scroll through Instagram, trying to distract myself. As I swiped through my feed, a recent post from Asher popped up on my screen.
Usually, seeing his face would send a wave of sadness and heartbreak crashing over me. But tonight, there was nothing like that. All I felt looking at his picture was pure anger and bitterness.
I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, pulled the thick covers up to my shoulders, and closed my eyes. "Let’s just go to sleep," I whispered to myself.
Twenty minutes later, sleep was nowhere to be found because I was still wide awake, tossing and turning. I rolled onto my side and hugged the extra pillow tightly against my chest. Subconsciously, I buried my face in it, catching the lingering scent of his cedar and rain cologne trapped in the fabric.
I groaned out loud, kicking the covers off my hot body, and sat up. My eyes landed on the framed painting hanging on my wall. Painting. Yes, that was it. I could go paint for a bit to calm my mind down and clear my head.
I slipped on my room slides and quietly opened my door. I padded down the dimly lit hallway, but ofcourse not before glancing at Cassian’s bedroom door wondering if he was fast asleep inside, completely unfazed, while I was losing my mind just a few feet away.
I walked into his art studio and headed over to the easel where I kept my canvas. I grabbed my palette, intending to focus on the soft colors and memory of the private gallery we had visited.
I wanted to paint something peaceful. But as I stared at the blank canvas, peace was the last thing on my mind.
Instead of the gallery, all I could see behind my eyelids was Cassian—his strong arms, his dark eyes, the memory of his body pressing me against the kitchen counter.
My breath hitched. My hand stopped reaching for the paintbrush. Slowly, almost as if my body was acting on its own, my hand moved down to the hem of my shorts. I slid my fingers underneath the soft fabric and dipped my hand straight between my wet, aching legs.
My fingers found my center, and I was already so wet and slick. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, completely giving in to the heat taking over my body.
I didn’t want it to be my own hand. I wanted his. I imagined it was Cassian’s large, rough fingers sliding against my skin, moving in those slow, perfect circles over my clit. I imagined his chest pressing against my back and his deep voice whispering in my ear, telling me exactly what to do.
"Mmm... Cassian," I breathed out softly into the quiet room, my hips rolling forward into my own touch.
I rubbed myself faster, trying to chase that high he had given me in his bed. The coil of pleasure started to build tight in my stomach.
"Ah... God, please..." I whimpered, biting down on my bottom lip as the feeling grew stronger.
"Cassian..."
Creak.
The sudden sound of the studio door opening echoed loudly in the quiet space, followed immediately by the thud of footsteps on the wooden floor.
My eyes shot open in pure panic. I quickly yanked my hand out of my shorts and snatched a random paintbrush off the stand, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I was panting so hard it sounded like I had just run a marathon, and my legs were actually shaking. Cassian stepped into the dim light of the studio.
He was wearing a pair of loose gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his waist, and his broad chest was completely bare. His dark hair was slightly messy, as if he had been running his hands through it.
His dark, intense eyes locked right onto me, taking in my flushed face, and obviously the way I was gripping the dry paintbrush like a lifeline.
If I thought I was aching before, seeing him standing there looking so raw, half-naked, and dangerous sent a sharp, throb straight to my core. A fresh wave of wetness flooded between my thighs, making my underwear stick to my skin.
Just the sight of him made me even wetter than my own fingers did.
Cassian made his way towards me, standing behind me. He didn’t look at the canvas. He was looking at me.
"Painting?" he asked, his voice low and raspy with sleep.
"Y-yes..." I squeaked out, the word barely escaping my throat.
I couldn’t form a proper sentence if my life depended on it. His broad, bare chest was hovering just inches from my back, radiating a heavy, magnetic heat that made every hair on my arms stand up. Why was he shirtless? My mind spun frantically. Was he having trouble sleeping too? Was he lying awake in his bed thinking about me, just like I was thinking about him?
Cassian leaned in closer, his chin nearly resting against my shoulder. "I heard a sound and came to check," he murmured, his warm breath brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a shiver straight down my spine. "It seems like you’re really enjoying your painting."
I didn’t miss the slow, deliberate way his gaze raked down my body. My heart pounded against my ribs as I looked down at myself. Intense heat surged through me all at once—my nipples were poking hard against the thin, light fabric of my tank top, completely unhidden by my soft bra. My entire body was practically screaming how turned on I was.
Before I could try to cover myself, Cassian reached out. His long fingers wrapped around my hand—the one still desperately clutching the paintbrush and gently forced me to drop it onto the tray. It fell with a soft clatter.
"You’re shaking, Elvie," he growled softly into my ear, his hand sliding down my arm to wrap around my waist.
He didn’t give me a chance to reply. In one swift, powerful motion, Cassian lifted me up and set me right on the edge of the wooden studio table, spreading my legs so he could step directly between them.
I gasped, my hands instinctively flying to his bare shoulders for support. The contrast of his cold, smooth skin against my burning palms made my head spin.
Cassian’s hands slid up my thighs, his knuckles dragging along the bare skin beneath my shorts until his thumbs pressed into the crease of my hips. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes practically burning through me.
"Tell me what you were doing in here alone," he commanded softly, his voice dropping into that dark, possessive tone that completely ruined my ability to think. "Were you thinking about me?"
"Cassian..." I breathed out, my hips involuntarily arching forward, pressing my slick core against the heavy bulge straining against his sweatpants.
He let out a low, dangerous growl at the contact. "I told you at the breakfast table what I’d do to you if you kept looking at me like that," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine without quite kissing me. "You didn’t listen, did you?"
"I wanted you," I confessed, the raw truth slipping out before I could stop it. "I wanted your hands on me."
A dark, satisfied smirk touched his lips. Without taking his eyes off mine, Cassian slipped his hand under the hem of my shorts, pushing my thin underwear aside, and plunged two fingers straight into my soaking wet pussy.
My head flew back, a loud, breathless scream ripping from my throat as pleasure shattered through my entire body.
The sudden, sharp intrusion stretched me so deliciously that tears pricked the corners of my eyes. He didn’t ease into it; he drove his fingers deep, finding every wet, aching inch of me in one relentless slide.
"Look at me, Elvie," Cassian commanded, his voice dark and commanding right over my mouth.
I forced my eyes open, trembling violently as I looked into his dark, fierce gaze. His face was mere inches from mine, his jaw clenched tight as he began to move his hand. He worked his fingers inside me with a steady, punishing rhythm, curling them upward against that sensitive spot inside me that made my toes curl.
"Ah...Fuck, Cassian!" I gasped out, my hands tightening on his bare shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
"You sat at my dining table, staring at me, practically dripping for me while you pretended to eat your dinner," he rasped, his thumb coming down hard against my swollen clit, rubbing in fast, agonizing circles. "And then you come into my studio, taking your own hand to yourself because you couldn’t wait."
"I... I wanted—"
"I know what you wanted," he cut me off, his fingers driving deeper, faster, matching the desperate, frantic arching of my hips. "You wanted me to do this. You wanted me to ruin you so badly you couldn’t even sleep."
Every word he spewed was the pure, unfiltered truth. It drove me over the edge faster than I could control. The pleasure was too big, too intense, curling tight in my gut like a stretched spring about to snap.
My inner muscles clenched tightly around his fingers, milking him as a high, desperate whimpering sound echoed from my chest.
"That’s it," Cassian growled into my neck, biting down softly on the sensitive curve where my shoulder met my neck. "Clench around me, Elvie. Show me how much you need this."
His thumb didn’t stop. He pressed down ruthlessly, driving me straight over the precipice.
My back arched completely off the wooden table, my throat opening up as another shattered scream broke from my lips. Intense, wave after wave of violent pleasure crashed over my body, making my thighs shake uncontrollably against his hips. He held me firmly in place, forcing me to ride out every single wave of the orgasm while his fingers kept up a slow, agonizing stroke inside my soaking heat.
I collapsed forward, burying my face into the crook of his neck, panting heavily as my body shuddered against his.
Cassian slowly pulled his hand back, slipping his wet fingers out of my shorts. I whimpered at the sudden loss of warmth, resting my forehead against his bare chest, listening to the heavy, rapid thud of his heart.
He wrapped both arms around my waist, pulling my trembling body tight against his chest, his lips resting against the top of my head.
"Next time," Cassian whispered, his voice deep, gravelly, and full of raw promise right in my ear, "You won’t just be getting my fingers."