Elvie
Cassian walked over to where I was standing, setting his mug down on the dining table right behind me. Instead of stepping back, he stood dangerously close, the heat of his body warming my back before he casually slid his hands into his pockets.
"Since you’re awake now, can we head over to the studio and start our lesson?"
An electric warmth ran straight down my spine. My heart hammered against my ribs, doing a wild, erratic dance. The lesson. I had spent the entire afternoon anticipating this moment, my mind practically consumed by thoughts of him ever since Gemma left. Now that it was actually happening, my stomach flipped with a mixture of intense nervousness and pure excitement.
"Right now?" I asked even though I knew the answer.
Cassian leaned in slightly, a subtle, confident smirk playing on his lips as he held my gaze. "Unless you’re planning on sleeping through this too, Elvie."
"I’m awake," I blurted out quickly, my voice carrying a little more eagerness than I intended.
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, taking in my instant response. "Good," he said, turning on his heel and making his way toward the hallway leading to his private studio.
I took a quick, deep breath to steady my racing pulse, smoothed down my top, and followed right behind him. My hands were slightly trembling, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t running away from the heat between us, I was walking right into it.
We walked into his studio, the quiet room bathed in low, moody light. Cassian reached out and clicked off the dim overhead lights, leaving only the soft glow of a warm standing lamp in the corner.
"Let me get my canvas," I said, moving toward the spot where I had left it that night. It was still sitting on the easel, untouched. I reached for my color palette.
"Actually... let’s get another plain canvas. I will lead, and you’ll watch and see I do." He said pausing my movement.
Well...that actually made sense. I gave a subtle nod. Cassian walked over to a large, fresh canvas positioned on a heavy wooden easel. He picked up a pencil, balancing it loosely between his long fingers.
"What do you have in mind?What can you picture as you’re looking at this blank canvas?"
I stepped closer, standing right beside him. I stared at the clean, white stretch of fabric, trying to force my brain to come up with a landscape, a shadow, a silhouette—anything artistic. But my mind completely rebelled.
The only thing filling my thoughts, the only image taking over my head, was him. His sharp jawline, his dark, piercing eyes, and his finger inside of me.
"You,"
Cassian stopped, slowly turning his head to look directly at me. The sudden realization of what I had just said hit me like a splash of cold water. My face burned instantly, and I awkwardly reached up to scratch the back of my head, looking anywhere but at his face.
A low, deep chuckle vibrated from his chest. "Are you sure you’re ready for this lesson, Elvie?"
"Yes," I squeaked, clearing my throat quickly to sound more confident. "Yes, I’m sure."
Cassian didn’t say anything at first. He pulled out the wooden bench in front of the easel and sat down, leaning his forearms on his knees. "Why are you standing all the way behind me?"
"Oh... I just wanted to have a good look," I mumbled.
"Come sit on my lap," he said softly.
My heart nearly exploded right then and there. Why does he keep saying things like this to me? He was making it so hard to breathe, so hard to keep my composure. But even as my heart hammered against my ribs, I knew I wanted it. Being close to him in the kitchen earlier had felt so right, so warm, so safe.
I walked over to his front. Cassian parted his legs slightly to make room for me. I sat down right between his knees, settling onto his lap as he pulled me back until my spine was pressed firmly against his broad, solid chest.
The moment I settled against him, I felt the unmistakable, prominent hardness of his cock beneath me. My pulse went completely wild, making it nearly impossible to focus on the blank canvas in front of us.
Cassian wrapped one heavy arm securely around my waist, anchoring me flush against him, while his other hand reached forward, guiding the pencil toward the canvas.
"Watch me," he whispered, his warm breath fanning against my ear.
My breath hitched as his fingers tightened around the pencil, his broad hand guiding mine until we were touching the tip to the blank surface together. The steady, heavy rise and fall of his chest against my back was the only anchor keeping me grounded.
"Close your eyes, Elvie," he murmured, his deep voice vibrating right through my spine.
I swallowed, my eyelids fluttering shut.
"Don’t try to force a picture," Cassian whispered, his lips practically brushing the shell of my ear as his hand moved ours in slow, strokes across the paper. "Feel the pressure of the tip. Feel where the line wants to go. Art isn’t about control; it’s about surrender."
A soft shiver ran straight down my neck, my shoulders relaxing into his chest. The shyness that usually made me hold my breath slowly dissolved into something far sweeter, far heavier. I let my hand go entirely limber in his grip, letting him guide me.
"Open your eyes," he instructed quietly.
I opened them. On the canvas, instead of a rigid drawing, stood a fluid, stunning outline of two overlapping silhouettes, shadowed and intimate, caught in a quiet embrace.
"See?" Cassian whispered, his hand slowly sliding off mine to trail down my arm, his thumb tracing the skin of my wrist before coming to rest back at my waist. "You don’t need to overthink it. You already know what you want to create."
"I love it," I whispered in happiness.
"Try it again," Cassian murmured. "Close your eyes and repeat what we just did. On your own this time."
I nodded my eyelids fluttered shut once more. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the pencil tip to the canvas and let my hand move across the textured paper. I didn’t plan the lines or worry about perfection; I simply let the weight of his arm around my waist and the heavy, intoxicating rhythm of his breathing guide the motion.
When I opened my eyes, a gasp escaped my throat, quickly turning into a bright, triumphant grin. "I did it!"
"Hmm," Cassian hummed, a quiet note of pride in his low voice. His broad palm rested
against my thigh, his thumb making a slow, lazy stroke through the soft fabric.
Every nerve in my body was buzzing. I shifted on his lap, adjusting my weight until I was turned slightly toward him. My hand slipped from the canvas and settled on his thigh, my palm slowly rubbing down the hard plane of his muscle.
Cassian didn’t pull back. Instead, a sharp intake of breath hissed past his teeth, and he pressed his body firmer against mine.
Driven by an impulse I didn’t even want to fight anymore, I stood up from his lap. I turned to face him fully where he sat on the wooden bench. Slowly, my fingers reached down, resting right at the elastic band of his dark sweatpants.
I looked up, meeting his darkened gaze in the dim light of the studio. "Can I?" I breathed out softly. I didn’t know how I got the courage to do what I was doing but I realized I wasn’t getting what I want if I don’t go for it.
Cassian let out a low, rough grunt, the muscles in his neck tightening as his jaw clenched hard. He reached up, his broad hand coming to rest over mine, anchoring my fingers right where they were.
"Do you really need to ask for permission," he growled softly, his voice thick and gravelly, "to take what’s yours?"
A shiver ran clear down my spine at the heavy roughness of his voice. My fingers hooked into the band of his sweatpants, slowly pulling the fabric down.
His cock popped out, big and hard. The air in the studio felt thick, hot, and electric as he sat back against the wooden bench, his lustful eyes never leaving my face for a single second.
My pulse thrashed against my throat as I stared down at his erect cock. I lowered myself to my knees right between his legs, the cold hardwood floor smooth beneath me.
"Look at me, Elvie," he commanded softly, his broad hand reaching out to slide into my hair, his fingers gently gripping the nape of my neck.
There was no going back now. My palms rested flat against his solid, warm thighs, feeling the tense muscle beneath his skin as I leaned in, taking a hold of his big cock in my not so big hands.
My gaze shifted upward, meeting the intense focus in his dark eyes as my grip tightened slightly around him. The heat radiating off his skin was undeniable.
Cassian’s thumb stroked the side of my neck, his breath catching in a low, quiet rasp as I began to move my hand in a slow pace. The tension in his thighs turned to pure, rigid muscle beneath my palms. He leaned back slightly, his jaw clenched tight, but his eyes stayed locked onto mine.
"That’s it," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, commandingly soft. "Right there. Take the damn cock like a bad girl you are."
Emboldened by the low rumble in his chest, I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against the tip before taking him into my mouth. Cassian’s fingers instinctively tangled deeper into my hair, holding me as a deep, shuddering groan tore from his throat.