SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The upstairs session was almost disappointingly normal.

Soft morning light through the bedroom windows, white silk sheets, Elena in a barely-there lace slip, Marcus in low-slung linen trousers. They laughed and kissed and moved together like they had done this a thousand times, which, from the way they touched each other, they probably had. Cassian circled them with the camera, giving quiet directions: chin down, hand lower, look at her like she’s the only thing in the world. It was sensual, yes, but it felt… safe. Artistic. I held a reflector, adjusted a curtain, handed him a different lens. I could almost pretend I was on a regular fashion shoot.

Then Cassian glanced at his watch and smiled that slow, dangerous smile.

“Downstairs,” he said. “Let’s get dirty.”

My stomach flipped.

The four of us descended the hidden staircase behind the bookcase. The moment the studio door came into view, my body remembered everything from yesterday: the heat, the scent, the way my own fingers had betrayed me in the shower afterward. My skin prickled like the air itself was charged. I stepped inside last, letting the heavy door click shut behind me, sealing us all in that black-walled kingdom where Cassian was god.

Marcus and Elena disappeared behind the silk screen to change. Their soft laughter and the rustle of fabric drifted over, intimate and excited.

Cassian ignored them. He moved to the workbench, unscrewed a lens, and began cleaning it with a microfiber cloth, slow, methodical circles. The overhead spots were still off; only the low amber work-lights glowed, painting the room in bruised golds and long shadows.

I hovered near the velvet sofa, arms wrapped around myself, trying to look anywhere but the leather bench where Sarah had been tied yesterday.

A soft mechanical whirr made me turn.

Cassian had lifted the camera, The lens was pointed straight at me.

The shutter snapped three times in rapid succession before I even realized what was happening.

“What are you doing?” I yelped, throwing a hand up like I could block the image after it was already taken. “Delete those. I didn’t say you could photograph me.”

He lowered the camera just enough to meet my eyes over the top of it. Then, without a word, he crossed the room in three silent strides and dropped to one knee in front of where I sat, exactly the way a man proposes in movies. Only Cassian Voss didn’t look like he was about to offer a ring.

He looked like he was about to claim a soul.

1/3

Chopter &

+25 Bonus

His hands settled on my thighs, palms warm through my jeans, thumbs pressing lightly into the muscle just above my knees. He parted them slightly, making room for himself between my legs, and leaned in until I had to crane my neck to hold his stare.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice velvet and smoke. “It’s just a few frames.”

“I don’t want you taking pictures of me,” I said, but it came out shaky, breathless.

One of his hands slid higher, slow and deliberate, stopping just beneath the juncture of my thighs. Not touching anything scandalous, but close enough that heat flooded me anyway.

“You’ll change your mind,” he said softly.

“I won’t.”

J

His gaze flicked to the padded leather bench across the room, the one still bearing faint indentations from Sarah’s knees yesterday. When he looked back at me his eyes were darker, heavier.

“I give it two days,” he whispered. “Maybe three. Then you’ll be right there, exactly where she was, begging me to tie you down and press the shutter while you come apart.

My breath caught so sharply it hurt.

He leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of my ear, words meant for me alone.

“I’ll make it so good, Ivy. So good you’ll cry and thank me after every click. You’ll pose for me, spread for me, drip for me, and when I finally let you come you’ll forget every reason you ever thought you were here for the money.”

His thumb traced a small, burning circle on the inside of my thigh.

I should have shoved him away. Should have screamed. Instead I sat frozen, pulse hammering between my legs, terrified he was right.

From behind the screen came Elena’s teasing voice. “We’re ready when you are, Cassian.”

He didn’t move for another heartbeat, letting the words sink into my skin like ink.

Then he pressed one last slow kiss to the corner of my jaw, just below my ear, and stood.

“Remember this moment,” he said, lifting the camera again. “Because soon you’ll be looking back at these three innocent frames and laughing at how hard you tried to pretend.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify