Chapter 16 Sarah #2
“It’s something that my art gives me,” I said, hoping to tiptoe around the edge.
“When I’m painting, all of the outside world falls to the wayside.
Sure, for a few minutes at the start, maybe my mind is scatterbrained.
But gradually, as I get into it, I enjoy it for what it is.
Not what it can give me. Not what it might mean to me. But simply what it is.”
Cassius nodded.
“What you worked on at the photoshoot,” he said. “Tell me about it. The one with two people and one person overlooking.”
Right. I should have known he’d see on camera what I had done. Truthfully, it didn’t even feel like that egregious a violation of privacy. I was in the middle of Allure.
It did, however, bring back the memory of the discussion I’d had with Delilah. I felt my body tense. This was going so well. I had to balance it carefully.
“It represents how no matter who I’m with, there’s always someone watching,” I said. “I could be with you. Someone is watching. I could be with my friends, my father. Someone is watching.”
“No one is watching here.”
“They don’t have to be alive.”
I meant it almost spiritually, in the sense that, for example, the legacy of my grandparents might be watching.
But immediately, Cassius’ right eye twitched. He took a gulp of his wine and stared me down, as if daring me to justify what I’d meant. But instead of pushing me to be vulnerable, it pushed me to further retreat.
“They can be a grandparent. Or, as I said, it could be like knowing you’re watching when I’m with a friend.”
“It’s my casino,” Cassius growled. “I have every right to watch what goes on in my art gallery.”
“Of course you do,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of you watching. I—”
“You mean to say Virgil is watching us, don’t you, Sarah?”
I felt my body go very cold. Cassius had flipped the switch, just as I had feared he might, at the topic of Virgil. I swallowed, not wine but fear, and took in a deep breath.
“Cassius, I—”
But without a word, without letting me finish, he stood up and went upstairs.
Seconds later, I heard a door slam shut.
I was alone, downstairs with a glass of wine, as thunder rumbled closer and closer, the flashes of lightning growing more intense.
The rain had not let up; if anything, it was pounding harder.
I looked over my shoulder to where Cassius had gone. It appeared there were two bedrooms; the one with the open door was obviously not the one he’d gone into. But it was one I could retreat to for a bit, unwind from what the hell had just gone awry.
As I climbed the stairs, leaving my glass of wine behind with his, inescapable conclusions came to mind.
Cassius would never let the memory of Virgil go. I wasn’t even sure it was a voluntary decision on his part.
Cassius would never let me be comfortable. Again, I wasn’t even sure it was something he deliberately chose so much as just a fact of his circumstances.
I was beginning to understand why he was the King of Hearts.
Ostensibly, it was a cruel joke, a way that people said he captured hearts before smashing them.
But what the articles never seemed to mention was how Cassius didn’t even seem to do this on purpose; that would have made him the Asshole of Hearts.
But the King of Hearts was someone who was actually good underneath the gruff exterior…
yet ultimately couldn’t get out of his own way.
Terrible, I thought as I reached the second floor.
Well, at least if I detached now, I wouldn’t get involved with the Black Reapers once more.
At least breaking it off after today would ensure I’d go home to Phoenix, away from the madness of the Reapers, away from the heartache of Vegas.
I’d have to start my career back at the small stakes, but I could do so knowing I’d tried the bigger picture, and it wasn’t for me, and—
I got to my door when the door to Cassius’ room opened behind me.
I turned around and saw Cassius standing there, with two buttons undone from the top of his shirt. His eyes locked on mine, and there was a haunting strength to them I had never seen before. These were not just the eyes of power, the eyes of curiosity, the eyes of dominance.
These were the eyes of lustful desire.
“Cassius…” I said, barely able to get the words out. “I… I’m…”
I never got to see where the sentence went. Because before I could even speak a verb, Cassius had taken me, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me.
And just like that—just like fucking that—I was no longer thinking about the detaching. I was no longer thinking about what might be, for good or for bad. I was no longer thinking, period.
I was just acting.
I grabbed Cassius' shirt and pulled him in even closer to me, as close as we could possibly fucking get.
The moment laid bare what I had probably known from the start but had never admitted to myself, not even subconsciously.
I wanted, no, I needed Cassius Vale to be mine again.
Deny it all I want, make all the excuses and justifications I might, I needed Cassius.
And damnit, he needed me too.
He picked me up and pulled me into his bedroom.
It was not a graceful movement to the bed; it involved some false steps, some stumbles, some putting me down to pick me back up.
I did not care. We never stopped kissing, and if we did, we were moving as quickly as we could to kiss once more.
Years and years apart meant we could no longer spend moment after moment apart.
When we fell onto the bed, he started kissing and biting my ears and then my neck. “Fuck, Cassius,” I moaned loudly. This, I realized, was a good reason to be alone. I didn’t have to mute myself. I didn’t have to wonder if someone else would overhear and drop a line on a website. It was just us.
I could be fully me, fully loud, and so could Cassius.
But I hardly had time to contemplate that, because Cassius hadn’t stopped at my neck. He hadn’t even stopped at my breasts as he’d pulled my shirt and bra off, kissing and cupping them. He was now on my stomach, but he wasn’t stopping there.
And while I had known the instant I saw him in the doorway upstairs that he was going to fuck me, it hadn’t felt so real until this very moment.
His hands were around my jeans, unbuttoning them and yanking them down.
I lifted my hips up and kicked my legs up, letting my jeans and underwear go.
I was bottomless, exposed to Cassius for the first time in over a decade.
“Get the rest of your clothes off,” he growled. “Now.”
I sat up and hurried to do so. He still had his clothes on, a sight much displeasing to me, but Cassius seemed to relish this dichotomy. He was still in control, it seemed, even when all seemed like rip-roaring passion. He smiled at my naked body, shamelessly looking it up and down.
“I have waited a very long time for this moment, Sarah,” he said. “Stand up.”
I did as he commanded. He ran his hands over my body, pressing and giving erotic rubs and massages.
From my arms, to my thighs, to the inside of my thighs, to…
just a glance over down there, just enough to draw a shiver, but not so long for the climb to orgasm to begin.
Cassius snickered, pulled me in for a kiss, and then pushed me back onto the bed.
“From now until I come,” he said, “you are mine. You will do as I say, and you will not question it. I am Cassius Vale. I know how to give you what you want better than you could ever say, and you will let me do as I please.”
He did not ask me whether I understood. I understood enough. I simply tossed my head back and closed my eyes as Cassius kneeled at the side of the bed and began kissing the inside of my thighs.
The first sensation was like an overwhelming rush of warmth that shut down any ability to communicate beyond simple moans. Hot. Electric. A rush of euphoria. How could I explain the inexplicable? It wasn’t just the physical act; it was because it was Cassius Vale down there. Anyone else—
“Oh!”
I didn’t know exactly what he did, but he pinned my hips down with his arms, sucked on my clit, and seemed to bring it to the brink of release far faster than I had even thought possible.
So, of course, he let it go and let me sit with the near-hit.
“You like that?” he said.
I nodded. I was already sweating, my hair a hot mess, my body alternating between blush red and pale white.
“We haven’t even gotten started yet.”
Christ, I barely had time to think before he went right back down on me.
Through it all, his eyes bore up at me, staring at me, as if daring me to get lost in that powerful gaze of his.
Those eyes—they were the same that he’d made when he first looked at me.
Truly, he’d been imagining this moment the entire time, even if not overtly.
It had always been at the back of his mind.
It might have been easy to chalk it up, but…
But…
Oh, shit, he was getting me so close. So fucking close. So fucking close!
“Keep going,” I said breathlessly. He held me even tighter, giving me no room to squirm. This, of course, only made it that much more intense, that much more like I was in his possession. I was… I… right…
Fuck!
I arched my hips hard into his body and groaned loudly as the sweet release of orgasm rushed over me. I lost control of my senses, buckling my body into his face, yet he never let up. He kept licking and nibbling on my clit, swollen and pulsing as it was, until I had to fucking beg him to stop.
I fucking begged!
Finally, he let go. He ran his tongue over his lips, as if relishing the aftertaste.
“Oh my God,” I said breathlessly. I was only just beginning to regain my senses, only just now thinking about what had transpired.
Cassius hadn’t just brought me to orgasm, fucking amazing as that was. He had taken his time; he had made sure that I got more than a quick A to Z orgasm. It spoke to… something more than just physical intimacy… something more…
I struggled to think in the aftermath of orgasm. Vaguely, I saw him take his clothes off, stripping down to just his boxers. Fuck, I needed to give him what he had given me so badly. So damn badly.
But…
By the time I sat halfway up, he was naked and crawling to me. I caught sight of his cock, just as large and thick as I remembered it being, but it fell between my legs.
“It’s my turn now,” Cassius said, “and I like to do things my way. Follow my lead, and you’ll enjoy it just as much.”
I didn’t question what he said. By that point, Cassius might as well have been an orchestra conductor of my body; going off note in any way risked disrupting the masterpiece he was crafting.
He entered raw inside me. A brief thought of “why” entered my mind; I didn’t think I was in my fertility period, but if something happened… but then again, Cassius was no fool. He had to know what he was doing. And he was not some stupid horn dog who fucked everything raw.
It was another sign I barely had the wherewithal to recognize that Cassius truly saw me as something more than just a hot ex to sleep with.
I dug my hands into his back, sure that my nails were going too deep, but Cassius did not care.
He never made a noise, never adjusted his body to lighten the load.
In fact, the harder I dug my nails into his back—all because of how fucking amazing he made me feel—the harder he went.
The bed shook around us, almost in perfect synchronization with the storm around us.
Everything moved in a blur. One moment, he was on top; the next, he was fucking me from behind. The only thing Cassius insisted on was that I lie there for the taking; I could be on top and in control another day, he said. For now, I was his.
Another day? Fuck. Yes.
Cassius came not too long after he took me from behind. I could feel the buildup as he thrust faster and faster; I gave no thought to having him pull out. I trusted him, for better or for worse. He might be the King of Hearts, but I would be his only queen soon.
And then he came.
And he roared to the ceiling, right as a giant strike of lightning erupted outside. Even with the thunder that followed, Cassius’ growl filled the room.
His pumping slowed down until he had finished. I collapsed forward. And seconds later, Cassius collapsed on top of me, just to the side so as not to crush me.
As Cassius lay on top of me, catching his breath, taking that post-coitus moment that left almost everyone speechless, I saw not the past flash before my eyes, but a possible future.
In this future, Cassius did not try to break me.
He did not try to live up to what everyone assumed was the “King of Hearts,” a man who took hearts and broke them.
Instead, he was a heart warmer, a man who moved past all that haunted him to have something special with me.
He went from a man who saw the world through the lens of power and money and instead—at least with me—saw it as a place for an even playing field of love.
Maybe this was simply the bliss of orgasm that went beyond a mere encounter with a handsome, rich man.
Maybe in days, if not hours, I would feel so foolish for ever thinking that.
Maybe this was the high point of our second “relationship” and everything after might fizzle out, having reached the pinnacle of physical intimacy.
But even if that were so, even if this was just a temporary, fleeting feeling recalling what had happened long ago…
For one day, the King of Hearts was mine.
Not because he had broken mine.
But because he had rediscovered his.