heinemann
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All it takes is one outfit, one look, and Rafayel forgets every rule. Behind the locked door of his office, he makes sure you confess every filthy fantasy of yours before making them all come true.
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When a famous artist with a bratty streak offers to help you overcome your creative block, lessons in art quickly spiral into lessons in ruin...and neither of you is really ready to handle the masterpiece you make of each other.
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When he gets that look in his eye - that gleam that makes him seem almost ferally desperate - he'll always find some way to draw your attention away from it. But...it just tickles you so good. Why does he look at you like that? Does he think he can hide it forever/
Well, looks like you'll have to find a way to make sure he can't.
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Rafayel disappeared for days and when he did came back, he was a mess. It wasn't only physically, but he was also a wreck emotionally.
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You weren’t supposed to look at your professor like that—not with heat curling low in your stomach every time his hands touched clay, not when his voice dipped low to correct your form, not when he stood behind you and murmured instructions and directions.
You tried not to imagine how those same fingers would feel somewhere else. Tried to stay focused on your work, on your final portfolio, on your future. But every time Rafayel leaned over your shoulder, every time that deep voice brushed your ear, your mind slipped somewhere else entirely.
And when the tension finally broke, he didn't just take you—he sculpted you, worshiped you, ruined you like you were always meant to be his favorite masterpiece.