16. Cassie
— ? —
Cassie
His hands are everywhere.
He works the zipper of my dress down slow, like he wants to feel every second of it, and I let my head fall back and let him. There’s a reverence in the way he touches me that makes me tremble, and I hate how much I want it, how completely I’ve stopped pretending I don’t.
“Elliot.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Say something.”
“I’m trying to memorize you.” His eyes travel over me with an intensity that makes me feel more seen than I’ve ever felt in my life. “All of it. I want to remember tonight for the rest of my life.”
“There’s nothing special about…”
“Don’t.” His voice goes sharp, cutting off the self-deprecation before it can finish. “Don’t do that. Don’t shrink yourself because he spent years making you feel like you weren’t enough. You were always enough. He was just too stupid to see it.”
I don’t know what to say to that. No one has ever looked at me the way Elliot is looking at me right now, like I’m rare, like I’m worth slowing down for, like I’m worth fighting to keep.
“Your turn,” I manage. “That’s not fair, me doing all the being-looked-at.”
He huffs out a laugh and steps back to shrug off his jacket, and I take my time watching because I’ve earned it. When he moves back toward me it’s unhurried, sure of himself, and he cages me in with an arm on either side.
“Like what you see?” His voice is warm and amused.
“You already know you’re attractive. You don’t need me to say it.”
“No.” His mouth brushes the corner of mine. “But I want to hear it anyway.”
“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” I say it plainly, no games, because for once I don’t feel like hiding. “Get used to it.”
“Beautiful.” He laughs softly against my throat. “I’ve been called a lot of things. Never that.”
“Well. Now you have.”
He kisses me, and this time it’s slower, deeper, like we have all the time in the world and he intends to use it.
I lose track of the room, of the city glittering through the windows, of everything except the steady warmth of him and the way my whole body leans into his without asking my permission first.
“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs against my skin. “Every night since you moved in. Down the hall from me, so close, and I kept telling myself it wasn’t real, that it was part of the act. I’m done telling myself that.”
“And?”
“And you’re better than anything I let myself imagine.”
I laugh, breathless, and pull him back to my mouth because I don’t trust myself to answer that without saying something I’m not ready to say yet. He goes easily, one hand cradling the back of my head, and I stop thinking about being careful.
I let him lead me to the bed. I let him fold himself around me. I let myself have this, fully, without the running commentary of doubt I’ve carried for years.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, low against my ear. “I want to hear you say it.”
“You.” The word comes out steadier than I expect. “I want you. That’s the whole list.”
“Good answer.”
I straddle his hips and wrap my fingers around his cock, stroking slow and deliberate, while I lean down to brush my lips over his without quite kissing him.
“You want this too, don’t you?” I say, keeping my grip light just enough to make him twitch in my hand.
He groans and reaches for my waist, but I shift back, smiling.
“Not yet. I like watching you like this, all worked up for me.”
He tries to pull me closer, but I keep stroking him with those lazy pulls, my thumb circling the head every few passes.
His breathing gets heavier, and his hands roam over my thighs, squeezing hard.
“Come on, Cassie,” he mutters, voice rough.
I lean in again, letting my tits graze his chest, but pull away when he tries to catch a nipple in his mouth.
“Ask nicer,” I tease, pumping him a little faster now, feeling him swell under my touch.
His cock throbs hot and thick in my palm, the skin smooth and tight over the hardness as I drag my fingers up and down, tracing every vein.
I shift my weight and press my pussy against his thigh, grinding slow so he feels how wet I am already.
His hand slides up to cup one breast, thumb brushing over the nipple, making it stiffen under his touch.
I moan soft but keep control, pulling back again to focus on stroking him, faster now, twisting my wrist at the top.
“Look at you, so hard for me,” I whisper, leaning close enough that my breath hits his ear.
He bucks up into my fist, chasing more friction, but I ease off again, keeping it teasing and light.
His fingers find my clit, rubbing in small circles through my folds, and I gasp at the spark but don’t let him take over.
I rock my hips against his hand, just enough to build the ache, then pull away to stroke him again with both hands now, one on his shaft, the other cupping his balls.
“Fuck, Cassie,” he hisses, hips jerking.
I smile and lower my mouth to lick a stripe up his cock, tasting the salt on the tip before pulling back without sucking him in.
He growls low in his throat, and his grip on my hips tightens.
That does it. His eyes flash, and in one quick move he grabs my hips, flips me onto my stomach, and presses his chest to my back.
He keeps one arm under me, fingers finding my clit right away, rubbing in firm circles.
“Enough teasing,” he growls, pushing into me from behind in one deep thrust. I gasp at the sudden stretch, and he starts moving hard and rough, hips snapping against my ass while his free hand reaches around to squeeze my breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.
The slap of skin fills the room as he pounds into me, each thrust shoving me forward into the mattress.
I push back, meeting every thrust, moaning when he hits that spot inside over and over.
His fingers work my clit faster, pressing and circling, while he pinches my nipple harder, sending jolts straight down to where we’re joined.
“Harder!” I breathe, and he gives it to me, snapping his hips while his cock drags against my walls, thick and relentless.
Sweat slicks our skin, and his breath comes hot against my neck as he bites down light, then soothes it with his tongue.
Another orgasm builds, and I tell him I’m close, clenching around his cock.
He keeps going, thrusting through it until I come hard, body shaking, my pussy pulsing around him.
He doesn’t stop, driving deeper now, one hand sliding up to grip my throat, gentle but firm, holding me in place as he fucks me through the aftershocks.
I reach back to grab his ass, pulling him in tighter, urging him on with broken moans.
He flips me again onto my back, this time spreading my legs wide and slamming back in.
My tits bounce with every thrust, and he leans down to suck one nipple into his mouth, biting just enough to make me cry out.
His hand finds my clit again, rubbing fast as he grinds deep.
“Come again for me,” he demands, voice strained, and I do, arching up as the second wave crashes over me, tighter and longer than the first. He follows right after, pulsing inside the condom with a low groan against my neck, his hips stuttering through the release.
We stay locked together, breathing heavy, his weight pinning me down in the best way. His fingers trace lazy circles on my hip while I run my hands over his back, feeling the muscles twitch under my touch.
“Wow,” I finally manage.
“That’s one word for it.” He rolls me closer, his fingers tracing slow lines along my spine. “I think I might be ruined for anyone else.”
“Good.” I press a kiss to his shoulder. “I’d hate to have competition.”
His laugh rumbles through his chest. “No competition. Just you.”
We lie in the quiet, and the adrenaline fades into a heavy, warm contentment that makes my eyelids droop.
I should be panicking. This is fast, too fast, and I’ve handed this man access to parts of me I’ve kept locked down for years.
But I’m not panicking. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel safe.
“Cassie?”
“Hmm?”
“This wasn’t fake. For me.” He pauses, and I feel him choosing the words carefully. “It stopped being fake the second you kissed me in front of Celine. Maybe before that. I don’t know exactly when. I just know that somewhere along the way I started wanting it to be real.”
I lift my head to look at him. His expression is open, unguarded, nothing like the controlled mask he wears for the rest of the world. This is the real Elliot, I realize, the one he doesn’t let anyone see.
“It’s real for me too,” I say softly. “It has been for a while.”
His smile is slow and it undoes me a little. “Then we’re on the same page.”
“Seems like it.”
He pulls me down for another kiss, softer now, more promise than heat. “Sleep,” he murmurs against my mouth. “We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”
I settle into his arms with my head on his chest, and outside the city glitters through the windows, oblivious to the fact that everything just changed. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
***
When I wake, it’s still dark, and the bed beside me is empty.
I blink, disoriented, reaching for the space where he should be. Cold sheets. He’s been gone a while. I sit up, pulling the sheet around me, and that’s when I see him, standing at the window in nothing but sweatpants, his back to me, his outline sharp against the city lights.
“Elliot?”
He doesn’t turn around. “Go back to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But his voice is tight and controlled, nothing like the man who held me so carefully a few hours ago.
I climb out of bed, wrap the sheet around myself, and cross the room to stand beside him. His jaw is clenched, his hands are fisted at his sides, and his whole body is radiating a tension that takes effort to hold.
“Talk to me,” I say quietly.