Page 55 of Beneath the Midnight Sky
“Is that clear enough, little angel? Or do you need a better visual?” he growled as he ran his nose along the crook of my exposed neck. Before I could answer, his teeth sank into my shoulder just above my collarbone, and I gasped. “I bet if I reached into those leggings, your panties would already be wet, wouldn’t they?”
I nodded as he gently kissed and licked along my neck, and slowly rocked his hips against me, grinding into my now-soaked core.
“Little angel, I don’t have time to both show you your surprise and take care of you right now. So, I’m going to put you down and show you your little bonus gift I set up as part of my groveling, but also just because you deserve it. Then, when I’m done working, I’ll send you a text, and I want you to be naked and in our bed waiting for me so we can have some fun before our dinner plans tonight. Do you understand?”
I mumbled a quick yes, that was also a bit of a moan.
“Good. You are not allowed to touch yourself before I get home, do you understand? I want to be the one to make your little cunt weep and quiver tonight. Tell me you understand?” he growled as he looked down at me.
“I understand,” I whimpered.
I desperately did not want to wait for this man to come home, and he knew it. He used that deep voice on me, and my brain went to mush. I was soaked, and I wanted him now, but he clearly had a plan, so I wasn’t going to mess that up. He slowly set me on the ground, making sure to grind against me one more time as my feet found the floor. He grabbed my coffee andhanded it back to me, only to kiss my forehead and turn back towards the gym door.
This time, he didn’t wait, though; he immediately opened the door. Probably because he was also teetering on the edge of control and didn’t want to push his luck. I knew that’s where I was, at least.
I walked closer to the gym door, only to stop in the doorway, because this wasn’t a gym at all. Not anymore. There were no mirrors, workout equipment, or weights. No matted floor or towels, or a mini fridge, I imagined he used for bottles of water. None of that.
The far wall was nothing but large windows like the living room had. Around the edges of the room were draped fairy lights like Ember had in her bakery, and the floor was solid wood like the rest of the house. But the main star of the show? The easel in the middle of the room, along with the blank canvases along the far-left wall—at least twenty, in various sizes. Along the other wall were floor-to-ceiling black shelving units, each of them filled with different colored cans of paint. The main colors were on the bottom shelves in big cans—black, white, yellow, red, and blue. Then there were a few smaller cans of specific colors and packs of brushes. There may have been more, but at that point, my eyes were tearing up, and I couldn’t see anything else as the salty tears cascaded down my cheeks.
“I had Ivy help me, obviously, I wasn’t sure exactly what colors you used the most, and you said she’s there with you all the time when you paint. Hence, the couch on the wall beside you. I figured she’d want somewhere to lounge. There are also surround sound speakers linked in the two far corners. Your phone is already hooked up to it, so it’ll play when you hit the second light switch on the wall,” Rowan said, his voice trailing off for a moment as he fiddled with his backwards baseball cap. “Say something, little angel. Is it okay?”
I stared at him for another heartbeat before I launched myself into his arms. He caught me easily as I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my face in his neck. “I love you so much, Rowan Carragan,” I whispered into his neck, but I knew he heard me because his arms tightened around my waist.
“I love you, too, Aspen,” he replied softly.
We stayed like that for a moment before I finally released my grip around him and stood on my own two feet. Wiping the tears from my face, I let out a deep breath.
“Rowan, this is…more than I can ever even explain to you. It’s perfect. It’s everything I could want and more than I could ever dream of.Noonehas ever done anything like this for me.”
He stepped closer again, cupped my face in his hands, he ran his thumbs over my tear-stricken cheeks. “It’s not even close to enough yet, angel. Not even close to what you deserve, but I’ve got my entire life to show you that.” He pressed his lips to mine in a slow, passionate kiss. Our tongues danced with each other, and our lips melded together. I could stay here with him like this forever, but he pulled away after another moment.
“I have to get to work, but I did tell Ivy I was showing you today. You can invite her over, or not, if you want some alone time. Your choice but do call her and show her if you can. She was very excited to see the finished product, but I wanted to show you first,” he said with a smile.
I bit my lower lip and giggled. “You got it, cowboy.”
He kissed me again and then walked out to go to work, leaving me alone in my brand new studio. I looked around, a smile on my face that just about nothing could fuck up.
After changingout of my new clothes and into something more appropriate for painting—insert Rowan’s old work shirt and a pair of spandex shorts, and then texting Ivy with photos that I was obsessed, in love, and couldn’t be reached right now, I dove full force in.
I grabbed a 16x20 and set it on the easel, turned on some music, and then I was lost to the art. Blacks, reds, and oranges all ended up smeared and painted with long, messy strokes.
I’d found that over the years, many times it took making some sort of art for me to fully experience and feel the emotions that came with big life changes. Drastic shifts that I was forced to face. That’s where I was right now, and as I backed away from the canvas and stared at the piece in front of me, I was overcome with many feelings.
Part of me wanted to light it on fire. Another part of me wanted to hang it on the wall and stare at it. A separate part wanted to see it hung in a gallery somewhere, to be able to see how it affected others, if they felt anything when they looked at it.
Familiar footsteps sounded from behind me as strong tan arms wrapped around my waist. His nose buried in my hair for a moment, and I leaned against him as he slowly inhaled my scent and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. I felt his chin sit on my shoulder, then as he looked over my shoulder at the canvas.
“I think you should teach,” he whispered.
I didn’t reply at first as I thought over what he said. “Teach what exactly?”
“This,” he said while gesturing toward the canvas. “Healing art—which I’m sure has a better, more sophisticated name somewhere.”
“What makes you say it’s healing?” I questioned with a light giggle at his goofiness.
“You’re proof of it, little angel,” he whispered against my skin, but his words rattled around in my head. “Are you all finished for the night?”
I nodded. “For now, I mean I need to clean up, obviously.” I looked around at the dirty brushes and the leftover paint I had sitting on the ground. Thankfully, I had thrown a drop cloth down before I ruined the beautiful wood floor on day one.
