MY RUIN: In Love With My Step-Uncle

//CLARA//

"But we really do need to discuss the seating arrangements for the ball."

I tried to inject some dignity back into my voice, though it came out breathless.

"If I accidentally place the wrong heads of families at the same table, the cleaning staff will be scraping brains out of the crown molding before the first course is cleared. I’d rather not start the evening with a bloodbath before the soup course."

I stepped away from the desk, but my dress had other ideas. The bodice surrendered, and with a heavy swoosh, the silk pooled at my feet. I was in nothing but my stockings.

Great, I looked down at my naked self, then back up at him. Now, all I’m missing is a delivery man who shows up at the wrong door and a complete lack of shame.

Casimir simply leaned back, crossing his arms. A coy smirk pulled at his mouth as his gaze swept down my bare skin.

"The seating arrangements," he repeated, his tone dripping with dark, gravelly amusement. "Yes, do go on, my love. You have my undivided attention."

"The... the draperies also need inspecting," I mumbled, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising inside my body. "Hand me your coat."

Casimir arched a brow. "My coat?"

"Yes, your coat. I need to cover myself before I lose feeling in my nipples entirely." I snapped my fingers. "And if you think a little draft is going to distract me from your aunt’s logistical nightmare—"

He didn’t move, instead his smirk widened.

"The coat, Casimir. I’m serious."

"Oh, I know." He straightened. His massive frame completely blotted out the light from the window. "I just don’t care."

His large hands locked around my waist, and before I could protest, he hoisted me back onto the desk. Papers scattered like winter leaves and a heavy stack of leather-bound ledgers hit the floor with loud thuds as he drove my back flat against the mahogany.

"And I’m done listening, little bird."

His hands slid under my knees, dragging my legs wide apart. He hooked one thigh over his shoulder, propping my other foot against the edge of the desk for leverage, exposing my dripping, swollen cunt. When his mouth descended, all thoughts of guest lists vanished into white noise.

He was ruthless, his tongue flattening out to lick the wetness from my folds before burying his tip directly into my clit.

"You are completely deranged," I gasped, my fingers clawing at the smooth wood behind my head. "There is literal ink on my shoulder."

"Quiet."

He gripped my butt, lifting my hips to angle me perfectly. He sucked my clit deep into his mouth, creating a brutal vacuum and making my hips jerk uncontrollably.

"You want to talk about the seating arrangement, Clara?" He pulled back just enough to look at me, reaching down and stroking his already hard cock.

"Let’s discuss how badly you need to be filled."

He drove straight in, my hands instantly flew up to grip his shoulders as he buried his entire length inside me. The desk groaned under our combined weight as he fucked me senseless.

"Is this... hard enough for you to focus?" he rasped, his teeth grazing my collarbone.

"You’re a bastard," I choked out, pulling him down into a bruising kiss.

Our tongues clashed, tasting my own fluid in his mouth. I arched my back, meeting his heavy thrusts, my internal muscles clamping around his thick shaft with desperate hunger.

Before I could catch my breath, he grabbed my waist, and flipped me onto my stomach. He pulled me up onto my knees, my ass shoved high in the air. He dragged his cock down my thighs, lubing it with my wetness, and drove back inside me from behind in one violent, continuous motion.

The angle was lethal.

"I’m fairly certain," I gasped, "that I just smeared ink across my left breast."

"You talk entirely too much when you’re being fucked," he rumbled against my spine.

His hands dug into my hips, picking up the pace. He was relentless, driving his cock in to the hilt, pulling out until the tip almost popped free, and then slamming back in until my teeth rattled. The pleasure was too sharp, bordering on a fine line between pain and pleasure.

"Casimir—wait."

"I don’t wait."

His thumb found my clit and crushed it against my pelvic bone while his cock continued to tear into me.

The combination broke me. A screaming orgasm ripped through my body. His pace turned feral, giving three more unforgiving thrusts before his body went rigid. He blew his load deep into my cervix, filling me to the brim.

He slowly pulled his cock out with a wet, squelching sound that made me whimper. Before my legs could collapse, he rolled me back onto my spine.

Desperate to break his dominance and buy myself a single second to breathe, my hand scrambled blindly across the desk until my fingers collided with the crystal decanter of whiskey. I uncorked it with my teeth and, in a reckless burst of defiance, tipped the bottle over my throat.

The burning amber liquid sluiced over my skin, trailing down the valley of my breasts. It pooled in the dip of my belly and flooded lower before the stinging spirit finally bit into the fresh scratch on my inner thigh. The sharp alcohol fumes instantly cut through the musk of sex.

"There," I panted, throwing the empty bottle over my shoulder. "Clean up your mess, bad guy."

Casimir’s eyes turned completely black, and I instantly regretted what I did. He came down on me like a mad hound, completely feral, his tongue tracking the liquor as it ran down my body.

"The best tasting whiskey, ever."

He lapped at my skin rough with hunger before his tongue drove straight back into my cunt. I screamed, my back arching off the desk as the whiskey-soaked friction ignited my nerves. He sucked my clit hard, his fingers driving deep inside me alongside his tongue, stretching me out ruthlessly until I was entirely incapable of uttering a word.

He pulled back and dragged my legs all the way up until they were flung across his shoulders once more, burying himself inside me again, pounding with a punishing speed that made the mahogany desk slide inches across the floor.

With one final, savage thrust, he pinned my hips and spilled deep inside me, his release overflowing and dripping onto the wood beneath. He pulled out slowly, utterly unbothered.

"Look at you." His gaze swept over me, dark and satisfied. "My beautiful masterpiece."

"You’re a menace to society," I breathed. "The law should lock you up just for this."

"The law can try," he said, and then he bent down, burying his face right back between my thighs.

I lost count after the fourth or fifth time I came—maybe the sixth.

He was either cleaning me or draining me dry, but it didn’t matter because I was already soaked again before I’d even stopped shaking. My legs completely went slack, slipping off his shoulders, sliding uselessly across the wood.

Casimir pulled his mouth away, his lips and chin covered in a glistening sheen. He leaned over my body, using his tongue like a wet brush, lathering my skin from the hollow of my throat down to my belly. He bit down gently on the soft flesh of my inner thighs, the slope of my breasts, and the curve of my neck, sucking hard, leaving a dark, bruised trail of purple hickeys all over my skin.

It was filthy, and I loved it.

He finally stood up, adjusting his clothes, and looked down at his handiwork with immense pride. I was still spread-eagled on his desk, covered in sweat, whiskey, ink smudges, and teeth marks.

"You’re a monster," I croaked, unable to summon the energy to even pull my knees together.

Casimir’s smirk was practically luminous in the fading light. "But I’m the monster you love."

I opened my mouth to deliver a scathing, witty rebuttal, but found absolutely no lies in his statement.

Without another word, he reached for his coat. He draped it over my body, tucking the edges until I was bundled like a disgraceful, naked package.

He scooped me up into his arms and walked straight toward his quarters, bypassing the main gallery to avoid the bulk of the house staff.

We didn’t avoid everyone, though.

As we crossed the threshold into the secondary hall, Higgins emerged from the corner. The old butler stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking from Casimir’s disheveled hair down to my bare feet dangling from the coat.

Higgins didn’t blink, though he let out a long sigh. He turned his head toward the service stairwell and raised his voice.

"Hattie, bring the lavender water to the Master’s bedroom. And a heavy bin."

I buried my burning face directly into Casimir’s chest, laughing silently against his skin as he carried me away into the dark security of his bedroom.