MY RUIN: In Love With My Step-Uncle-Chapter 37 - Thirty-Seven: The Taking

//CLARA//

The kiss was a declaration of war I refused to lose.

His mouth crashed into mine like a riot breaking through a barricade, teeth clashing, lips bruising, his tongue forcing its way past my resistance as if he meant to fuck my throat right there against the creek’s roar.

Casimir’s hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to expose my throat. I bit him hard enough to taste iron, but he didn’t flinch. His fingers slid down and dug into my jaw, prying my teeth apart with a growl that vibrated against my palate.

His other arm banded around my waist, crushing the breath from me, and I hated how my body arched into it, how my fingers dug into his shoulders not to push him away but to hold on.

The creek’s roar swallowed my gasp, but he must’ve felt the way my ribs expanded against his chest, the way my pulse hammered under his palm.

"Still want to fight?" He growled against my lips, his free hand already working at the laces of my corset, fingers infuriatingly brutal in their efficiency, as always.

The cold air hit my skin as he tore the fabric apart, but his body was a furnace, pressing me back against the rough bark of an oak.

"You think I’d make this easy for you?"

I twisted, but there was nowhere to go. His thigh forced between mine, the tree at my spine, his mouth sealing over mine again before I could bite out a retort.

The kiss was a battle for dominance I had no intention of surrendering. My nails raked down his chest, catching on the buttons of his shirt, and I shoved hard enough that he stumbled back a step, his boots slipping on the damp moss.

His eyes burned, dark and wild, as I advanced on him.

"You think that would fucking scare me?" I spat.

His shirt was already half-undone, the buttons straining like they’d been sewn by a blind tailor. My fingers worked the rest free viciously, yanking the fabric apart so the seams groaned. The cold air hit his chest, but he didn’t shiver. His skin was too hot, too alive, the muscles under my palms jumping as I raked my nails down his sternum.

"You’re a coward, Casimir. You can’t even fucking take me."

His hand shot out, fisting in the hair at the nape of my neck, yanking my head back before slamming me against him. His mouth crashed down so violently our teeth clashed, the iron taste of blood blooming between us. A growl vibrated in his chest as his tongue forced its way past my lips, tangling with mine in a rhythm that was all hunger and no finesse.

"I want to clean your goddamn mouth with mine," he snarled, his free hand tangling in the wreckage of my corset, dragging me flush against him.

The hard ridge of his cock pressed against my stomach, and I moaned, a sound that made his grip tighten, his kiss turn feral.

We were all hands and teeth after that. My fingers clawed at his belt, his at the skirts of my dress, both of us panting like animals, the cold air doing nothing to cool the fire between us.

He spun me, slamming my palms against the tree, his body caging me in as his mouth found the side of my neck, biting down hard enough to make me whimper.

"You want this," he growled, his hand shoving up my skirts, his fingers finding the damp heat between my thighs. "Damn, you’re wet for me, little bird."

I bucked back against him, my ass grinding against his cock, and he groaned, his teeth sinking deeper into my shoulder.

"Yes, I’m fucking soaking, Casimir. What are you going to do about it?" I taunted, even as my voice shook, gasping at the friction he was denying me. "Or are you just going to talk about it like always?"

That did it.

He flipped me around, his hands under my thighs, and then I was off the ground, my back hitting the tree as he pinned me there, his mouth crashing down again.

The kiss was filthy—tongues dueling, teeth nipping, our breaths mingling in ragged gasps. His cock was a brand against my thigh, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his ass, daring him to take what he’d been denying himself for months now.

"Damn you. I need more than that."

He didn’t need to be told twice.

One hand gripped my hip hard enough to leave marks as the other fumbled with rest of his trousers. The head of his hot, thick cock pressed against my entrance. I moaned, my head falling back against the bark.

Shit! Finally. He laughed darkly, a triumphant sound before he slammed into me in one brutal thrust.

The stretch burned, the angle perfect, and I cried out, my nails raking down his back as he fucked me—hard, deep, each snap of his hips punishing. The tree bark bit into my skin, but I didn’t care, not when his mouth was on mine again, swallowing my sounds, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his cock.

"You like that, don’t you?" he growled, his hand sliding between us, his thumb finding my clit. "You like being fucked like this, little bird? In the damn woods?"

I hated him. But, God—I loved the way my body responded, the way my hips lifted to meet his thrusts, the way my cunt clenched around him, begging for more. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"Don’t talk. Don’t—" I couldn’t finish.

He had found an angle that pressed against something electric, some nerve cluster that made my vision spark with color. "Just fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me back."

He did. His hips slammed against mine, the rough surface behind bruising my skin, my thighs spread wide to accommodate his desperation. Each thrust drove a cry from my throat—

"God, harder, you bastard, harder"—and he obeyed, his hands gripping my hips with force that would leave fingerprints, that would mark me as thoroughly as his mouth had marked mine.

"You feel—" he snarled against my ear, his rhythm stuttering with the effort of speech, "—exactly as I imagined. Exactly. Tight and wet and fucking impossible—"

He pulled out. I cried out at the loss, at the sudden emptiness, but his hands were already turning me, pressing my chest against the bark, pulling my hips back to meet him. I felt him at my entrance again, paused there, and then he drove in with a force that pushed the air from my lungs in a guttural sound I didn’t recognize as my own.

"Like this," he commanded. His hand finding my hair and pulling, arching my neck, exposing my throat to the woods’ indifferent gaze. "I want to see your back. Your spine. The place where your dress opens—"

His free hand found my breast, hanging heavy with gravity, and squeezed with demanding possession.

His rhythm accelerated, losing the measured precision that characterized everything else he did. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, feeling the slap of his hips against my ass, the drag of his cock against my inner walls, the gathering tension that signaled something devastating. Unraveling.

"Touch yourself, little bird. Like you did the other night when I told you to lock your doors," he ordered. "I want to feel you come on my cock like that. I want—"

The world stopped. He was there. Of course he was there watching me.

The roar of the creek faded into a dull hum in my ears. I pulled back just enough to look at him, my breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

"You saw me?" I whispered—or gasped, or whimpered, I fucking don’t know—as the realization hit me like a blow.

"I was there," he admitted, his thumb catching my nipple and pinching with a sudden, sharp pressure that made my toes curl into the damp earth. "It took everything in me not to tear that door off its hinges and take you right then."

"Why didn’t you?" I challenged, my pride flared up even now, even here.

"You know why," he growled, his thrusts turning shallow, teasing, and maddeningly brief.

I snarled, my nails digging into the rough tree bark, my body screaming for the friction he was suddenly denying me. "You bastard—"

"Now, touch yourself," he commanded again.

Before I could spit a retort, his palm cracked against my ass, a stinging crack that echoed through the trees.

"Or I stop. Right here. And I’ll leave you in the mud with the memory of how much you wanted me to finish."

My hand moved between us without permission, my fingers finding the slick, hypersensitive clit, circling, and pressing. My back arched as my cunt pulsed around him. He let out a low, guttural sound and slammed back into me, full and deep, just as the orgasm tore through my nervous system.

He groaned, his hips stuttering, and then he pulled out.

I gasped at the sudden emptiness, but his fingers found my swollen clit and circled it one more time, triggering another earth-shattering orgasm. His other hand pressed between my shoulder blades, pushing me forward against the tree, and I felt him release across my lower back, hot and thick, painting my skin.

His palm spread it along the curve of my spine, marking me as his, and I shuddered, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

He leaned over me, his mouth finding the back of my neck, his voice a rough whisper against my damp skin.

"God, I’ve ruined you."