Chapter Seventeen
Evelyn
New Orleans is like another world.
Skipping off the bus, I try to take it all in; the smell, the sights, the sounds but my senses are swimming in a lake that’s much too fast. Bouncing on my feet, I grin up at Asher whose waiting for the rest of the class of Freshman students to make their way off the bus.
Today is the day of the art gallery visit. Asher’s gallery specialises on a different art style, subject, or artist every couple of months and today we’re here to see Art on the Outside.
After leading the class inside, Asher pauses in the entrance hall. “You’re free to look at whatever you want, for as long as you want, as long as you have a focus by the end of the day. I expect you to write a paper on your chosen work that details where the history of art can be found within it.”
The students scatter, heading in different directions.
“I am so excited for this.” I bounce. I feel like I’ve been filled with bees and the only way to get rid of them is to see everything. “Where should we start?”
“Wherever your heart wants to.” He smiles, his eyes soft with love.
It’s been a few days since thanksgiving, and we’ve easily fallen into a routine. I go to class, he goes to class, we meet at his later in the day. Bree knows something is up, but I think she assumes I’m staying at Jake’s.
Guilt sears through me at the thought of Bree. It’s not that I want to lie to her but I’m not ready to tell her yet. Asher and I may have finally sorted our shit out in terms of what we want, but what we are together with our situation being what it is, is still complicated.
Walking through room after room, with Asher by my side, I take it all in. Asher is amazing at his job; you can really feel the expertise in his choices and how each of them blend with each other seamlessly without ever losing their individuality.
I stop in front of a portrait. An old man is captured within his weathered, brown face smiling as a world of colour surrounds him – a swirling, beautiful New Orleans.
“I’ve never been here before.” I say into the silence.
“To New Orleans?”
I nod. “I always wanted to go. To experience the colours and the music and the food. I can’t believe I’m finally here.”
“It’s a wonderful city.”
I look to him. “Is your farmhouse near the city?”
“Just an hour drive away. I love everything about this place, but I also like the peace of the outskirts.” I nod, agreeing with the sentiment and look into the painting again.
Asher’s hand rests at my back. “Can I show you something?”
I nod and allow him to steer me further into the gallery, my heart skipping at the sight of so much talent and then it drops into my stomach as I spy a familiar looking painting. Asher positions me in front of my skeletal girl, the painting from a few days ago and grins down at me. A shiny gold plague with the words A Breath of Hope stare back at me.
“You…” I trail off, not knowing what to say or think or feel. I know he said he was going to do it, but I didn’t expect he would do it so quickly.
“I hope you don’t mind that I named it, I wanted this to be a surprise, so I had it flown over the same day, and I was waiting until you got here to do this.” He slides a little card into the slot beside the painting, a little card with the words sold scrawled across it.
I gasp. “No fucking way.”
He grins harder. “The same day I put it here, it sold. I told you; you have something special. The guy even wanted to see more of your work. I told him I’d pass along his interest.”
I stare at my work, shocked and elated and terrified. Never in my wildest dreams did I think the work I did would be of interest to others and yet … Asher was right. Turning, I jump into his arms, laughter bubbling out of me as tears press against my lids.
“Thank you.” I breathe. The sound of steps drags us from our moment, and we pull apart, grinning silently as two girls round the corner.
Once they’re gone, Asher nods his head. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I whisper as he leads us to a restricted area in a separate part of the gallery. It looks like a half-finished exhibit. “What is this place?” I ask.
Paintings hang from the ceiling from wire, and sculptures dot the surfaces, everything tied together with sweeping fabric of varying shades of blue and black.
“It’s my next exhibition. I like to get a feel for what I want the experience to be like before I go sorting the whole studio out.” He fingers a star that hovers in the air. “My next exhibition is Cosmic Tears.”
“I love it.” I whisper.
“I thought you would.” He turns suddenly, and swallows the space between us, pushing my body into a bare wall. “It’s also a very restricted area.” He hisses, before his lips crash onto mine.
I groan against his lips, finally understanding what he means. His tongue sweeps against mine, the pressure unbearable, but just as sudden as he started the kiss, he stops.
Pulling back, he smirks. “Strip.” I go to rip my clothes off, to bare myself to him in a second, but he sends me a stern look. “Slowly.”
I lick my lips, my throat drying, all the moisture leaking to my core and slowly peel away my clothes until I’m naked, my breasts heaving with my heavy breaths. “Are you going to do the same for me?” I whisper, desperate to see that long, throbbing cock, pre-come beading at the tip.
Asher grins, shaking his head. “Not today, sweetheart.”
I pout, eying the length of him growing beneath his pants. “I want it.”
He doesn’t reply, save for a stern, growled, “turn around and bend over. Hands on the wall.”
“Yes daddy.” I gasp, the term falling from my lips like it did that first time in his office. I turn, complying, my body craving his direction. My pulse skitters as I hear his heavy steps coming closer, his warmth teasing.
“Good girl.” He whispers before cupping my pussy.
My back arches, desperate for more. “Please.” I beg.
I can hear the smirk in his voice. “No.” He peels his hand away and I cry out. He’s teasing me. He’s enjoying my need, my desperation. He’s enjoying seeing just how much of a desperate whore I am when it comes to him.
“Spread them wider, Evelyn.”
I do it.
“Arch more.”
I do it.
“Now stay like that.” He whispers, his hand stroking the curve of my ass. I whimper as he gets closer and closer and closer to my wet, warm, pussy, every stroke a new frustration.
“Do you want me inside you?” He growls.
“Yes.” I cry.
“Then say please.”
“Please! Fuck me, daddy, please, please, please fuck me.” I howl, trembling with the effort to keep myself bent and arched.
His chuckle trembles along my spine. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, dragging a finger up my centre once again. I hear his zipper come undone and my stomach clenches, desperate to feel him. His warmth rests against my centre, his tip teasing my throbbing hole. He rubs up and down, spreading my need and driving me further into frenzy.
When he slides in, I almost sob.
I press my hands into the wall as I moan, his thrusts growing faster.
“God, you’re such a good fucking girl.” He groans, his hands pulling my ass cheeks apart. I push my ass against him, wanting more, needing it deeper and harder. His hands fold around me, holding my balance as he raises my back until his mouth is breathing against my ear. I moan as he sucks my neck.
“Play with your clit.” He growls and I do, rubbing in circles until all that I am exists within this pleasure. This need that I have for him and only him.
“I love you.” I breathe.
He thrusts harder.
I repeat it over and over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer, like Asher is a god that I worship. I fall into it. I drown in it. I am so, so close; I feel the wave of it cresting, arching higher and—
“Who’s there!” A deep, stern voice shouts into the darkness and the wave disappears.
I still, so does Asher.
“It’s just me, Pete.” He shouts back and begins to move once again and I bite my lip, holding back the scream.
The man, Pete, chuckles. “I thought it was some kids. Sorry Mr Callaway.”
“No worries.” Asher calls back and a second later a door slams and I cry out as he slaps my ass. “I felt you gush. You like getting your pussy pounded in front of an audience, don’t you?”
I nod, my cheeks heating. His finger moves, dipping into my wetness, before pulling it up to circle a very sensitive and very private part of me. I pull away, alarmed at how good it feels but stop when he slaps my ass.
He chuckles. “Such a dirty little girl. Doesn’t this feel good?” He increases the pressure, his finger breaching that forbidden part of me and my god does it feel fucking good.
I arch, no longer caring about anything beyond the pleasure skittering along my spine. A mewl slips out of me as his finger slips in, and then another, stretching me until both of my holes feel full. He thrusts them in and out, stretching me, and then he’s moving his hips and my vision blurs at the intermingling pleasure.
“Soon, I’m going to fuck this hole with my cock.”
I nod and cry out, “Please. Asher, please I need—” My words lose focus as he thrusts harder, those devilish fingers stirring something deep inside me. Something that’s going to shatter me. He thrusts harder, becoming unfrenzied and the sounds that fall from my mouth become intelligible. Closer and closer and closer. Harder and faster and then, I’m falling. I scream into the silent room, my breaths heaving and heavy and then I’m lost.
Lost in a sea of pleasure only he can bring.