26. Caspian
26
CASPIAN
“ I s this my fault?”
Emma stands in my kitchen, one hand holding the bunny rabbit mug of freshly poured hot coffee. Her eyes are low, her shoulders drawn in, and her stance much more reserved than normal.
Is she blaming herself for this? For the absolute carnage that ripped through my studio?
Exhaustion clings to my shoulders, weighing me down as I sit heavily in a dining chair and quietly process her words.
It’s well after midnight. We spent the past three hours talking with campus security and the police about the vandalism, mulling over the options of a disgruntled student or someone trying to get out of their exam. Years of work had been destroyed, with models dating all the way back to my first year working at the college. All of it, gone.
And yet, what hurts the most is Emma standing there taking the blame, as if this is in any way her fault. Runoff from the missing pictures if I have to take a guess. Mingling guilt and perhaps her attempt to make me feel better by taking responsibility. She’s already done more than enough by staying by my side and refusing to leave me, partly because she didn’t want to be alone.
“Emma.” I lift my head and fix her with a tired stare, wrestling with the sigh resting just below my ribs. “This, my dear, is not your fault.”
“But,” she begins, uncertainly. “What if it’s connected? What if whoever took my pictures saw you coming to help me and seized another opportunity to be an asshole and cause more trouble?”
“If it was the same person, then the responsibility of their actions lies firmly with them.” I stand slowly, taking steps toward her. “That is not on you.”
“But I called you for help.” Emma’s voice quiets the closer I get. “I took you away from your studio.”
“I would much rather have been with you than in that studio facing down some asshole intent on destroying my livelihood.” Stopping a foot away, I reach out my hand to her but I don’t make contact. As much as I crave to sink into her warm embrace, I need her to make the first move so I know it’s okay.
Emma sets down her mug and takes my hand. I weave our fingers together, gripping firmly and then I pull her close.
“Whatever creep took those pictures will come to regret it. And my studio can be repaired. I can paint more and mold more. Don’t get me wrong…” That tired sigh finally escapes me in a painful rush. “I’m pissed and upset but this is not your fault. Not even a little bit.”
“Then why do I feel so guilty?” She looks up at me through her lashes, sadness brimming in those gorgeous emerald eyes.
“Because you’re an empathetic person,” I say softly, sliding my other hand up her arm. “Because two terrible things happened tonight and you’re trying to find a connection so you can make sense of things.”
“I’m so sorry this happened. All your work…”
“It’s okay. But I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?” Emma tilts her head to the side, her lashes shining in the light from unshed tears.
“We both need a glass of wine.”
That finally pulls a smile out of Emma and she chuckles softly as I kiss her forehead. A large bottle of wine and three glasses each later, the anger of what happened has faded in my mind. Art can be replaced, and all my significant works are kept here. My main concern is Emma and who stole those pictures. Her worries are clear and justified. If those pictures get out, it won’t matter about my studio. I’ll be out of a job.
Oddly, that doesn’t concern me as much as I thought it would.
Emma yawns widely and stretches her arms above her head, emphasizing the gloriously thick curves of her body.
“Bedtime,” I decide, setting my empty glass down. “I only have one bed though, so I hope you don’t mind sharing.”
“Oh, I can take the couch if that’s easier,” Emma says, not quite catching onto the hint in my tone.
As we stand, I catch her wrist and spin her gently toward me. “I wasn’t asking.”
“Oh.” Emma’s eyes flash and a playful smirk slides across her tired lips. “Lead the way then, handsome.”
Taking Emma’s hand, I lead her into the bedroom and she giggles softly. “Your bed is huge.”
“See?” I turn to face her. “Plenty of room.”
Sex wasn’t my intention, but two seconds later Emma is in my arms, and her soft, pillowy lips press against my own. I can’t resist when her soft hands slide around my neck and pull at the ends of my hair. I kiss her deeply, weaving my tongue into her mouth and caressing every inch I can reach. I stroke her back, smoothing my hands down to the swell of her ass. From there, I grab handfuls of her and pull her up from the ground. She follows through and wraps her legs around my waist, letting me carry her to the bed.
She lands on the bed with a soft whimper and I crawl over the top of her, resuming our kisses. Then I break away and slowly begin to undress her. Each strip of fabric that I slide from her body is chased by kisses and gentle bites. Down her arms, across her shoulders, and down along her ribs; I map her out with my lips, tongue, and teeth. Her bra follows, and her large breasts spill out into my hands, taunting me with a softness I want to sink into and never leave.
She whimpers and moans above me, writhing lazily as I tease her pink nipples to stiff peaks, then bite them until they’re red and flushed. Emma’s hands toy with my hair as I kiss down the swell of her stomach. Just below her navel, I slide her panties off her thighs and kiss the delicate skin beneath her knee.
Then I dive between her legs and thrust my tongue as deep into her pussy as I can reach. Emma moans loudly and comes within seconds, clamping down around my tongue and spilling her sweetness past my lips. I drink her down and clutch at her thighs like a lifeline, gripping handfuls of flesh and never willing to let go.
Emma writhes under my kisses and sweeps of my tongue. She whimpers when I dip my tongue inside her and screams when I suck hard on her clit. By the time her second orgasm hits, my cock throbs painfully and the only clear thought in my mind is a desperate desire to sink into her tight, pink heat and become one.
“Caspian,” Emma moans, and my name sounds amazing rolling off her tongue, tinged with lust. I kiss her thigh and crawl back up her body, then I kiss her deeply on the mouth. Emma rolls over, lifts herself onto her knees, and presses her hips back against me. She invites me in and I can’t resist.
I drape myself over her, slide my cock through her heated, slick pussy, and lay kisses all across her bare shoulders.
“Please,” Emma gasps. “Stop teasing me and fuck?—”
I thrust my cock into her, surrounding myself with her hot slickness, and cut off her complaint in one smooth move. She moans loudly and slumps forward onto the bed, giving me the angle I need to pound into her hard and fast.
Keeping one hand on her hip, my other grabs a handful of her breast to keep myself balanced. My world narrows to the sound of her moans, the heat of her pussy, and the way her muscles contract around me. It’s like she’s pulling me in with every thrust, like her pussy is made just for me, and I fit inside her exactly. Pleasure builds rapidly in my core as I fuck into her, and every sensation is heightened thanks to the alcohol running through my veins.
Her skin is soft and hot, her scent wraps around my senses, and my entire body quivers with anticipation as we fuck closer and closer to climax. I try to hold off, listening out for the telltale pitch in her moans that signal she’s close. As soon as I hear those, I slide my hand from her hips down between her slick thighs. One touch of her clit and Emma comes hard around my cock with a cry, shoving her face into my pillow and twisting her hands into the sheets. I follow a few seconds later and we collapse together, sweaty and entangled, soaking up the twitching glow of climax.
The next morning brings, thankfully, a weak hangover that’s cured by my first sip of coffee. Emma sleeps on and I don’t have the heart to wake her, so I focus on cooking her some breakfast. Toast and bacon is a good start and while fresh coffee brews, I check in with the group chat. Asher and Finn share their fury about what happened at the studio, and Finn shares the concern that the two incidents could be connected. I can’t see how, but I quickly text back and tell him that the pictures should be his top priority.
If they get out, the damage will be intense. Oddly, it doesn’t concern me as much as I thought it would. My concern lies with Emma and what this could do for her future and her reputation. Finn and Asher express their concern for Emma, and Asher says he’ll go straight to security as soon as he gets into work to get an update on the cameras. With any luck, whoever was roaming around the halls at night wouldn’t have considered just how many cameras were all over campus.
Finn tries to lighten the conversation by asking after Emma. I assure him sweetly just how well I took care of her last night and the great night’s sleep that followed. Sometimes, the unintentional moments were some of the best. Asher adds a request that I pass on their thoughts to Emma, even though she’ll read it in the group chat, and I promise to do so.
After the bacon is finished, I serve hot, buttered toast with the bacon and a fresh cup of coffee and head back to the bedroom. Just leaning against the door, the sound of sniffles catches my attention.
“Emma?” I step fully into the bedroom and pause, tray in hand, as red-rimmed eyes stare up at me from amidst the fluffy pillows. Emma’s drawn the covers up over her raised knees and she whimpers, sobbing as she clutches her phone against her leg.
“Emma, what’s happened?” I set the tray down on the bedside and slide onto the bed, catching her phone as it slides from her trembling fingers.
“They know,” Emma chokes out. I turn her phone to face me, and one text lights up the screen—a message from her mother.
“My parents,” Emma gasps thickly. “They know I’m dating the three of you.”