//CLARA//

His moan reverberated through my chest, traveling from his cock straight to my mouth the second thunder cracked overhead.

I kept working, my tongue tracing his length as he swelled thicker against my palate.

Then the rain hit.

It started as a polite patter, but within seconds, it turned violent. Heavy pellets hammered my shoulders like gravel. I pulled back, gasping as water blinded me.

"Casimir—"

"Stay." His fingers closed around my wrist. "Finish what you have started."

The thrill hit me hard. The recklessness, the insanity that made me think if lightning struck us both dead right now, he’d die with my name on his lips. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

I settled back between his legs, and wrapped both hands around him. He was stone-hard, a vein pulsing against my palm. I stroked him, watching his jaw lock as he fought for restraint.

"Clara." My name half-swallowed by the thunder.

I licked up his length, swirling around the head, tasting the rain mixing with his salt. Then I took him deep—as deep as I could go—until my throat convulsed around him.

His hips jerked. His hand tangled in my soaked hair. I worked him with my lips and tongue, my hands pumping the rest.

I looked up through blurred lashes. His head was thrown back, eyes shut, face tilted to the downpour. With the rain running down his throat and his shirt plastered to his chest, he looked like a pagan god accepting a sacrifice. And I was the one kneeling.

I wanted to tear that shirt off and worship every inch of him, but I couldn’t stop.

"Fuck, Clara." It was a warning now. "I’m going to—"

I doubled down. I sucked harder, taking him until my throat burned and my eyes watered. His grip tightened to the edge of pain, his thighs went rigid, and then he was coming, thick and hot down my throat as thunder cracked overhead.

I swallowed every drop. I kept working him until his hips stopped bucking and he was spent, trembling as he pulled at my shoulders.

"Up. Now."

I rose on shaky legs, shivering. He hauled me into his lap, straddling him. His mouth found mine before I could breathe, deep, claiming, tasting himself on my tongue.

He groaned into the kiss like he’d found something he couldn’t live without.

His hands moved to my back, finding the corset laces and worked them loose.

I went for his shirt, but the wet fabric was stubborn. A sound of frustration clawed my throat, and he actually laughed before his hands were at his own collar, tearing.

Buttons pings against the stone. The shirt gaped open, and finally, I had him. I mapped his chest with my palms, learning the ridge of his collarbone.

"More," he growled against my jaw, hands finding my skirts. "I need to feel you. All of you. Now."

I ground down against him. He made a sound like he was in pain, then his hands were at my bodice.

My dress tore like paper. The wet thud of the ruined silk hitting the stone was so absurd I giggled.

"You tore my dress," I accused, nipping his lip. "You’re so impatient."

He groaned, probing at my entrance. "You have no idea."

I was so wet he slid in easily.

"Casimir—"

"No one is taking you from me. Not even God. He could strike us down right now and I’d follow you straight to hell."

Lightning flashed as if to accept his challenge, showing me the terrifying devotion in his eyes.

"I know," I whispered. "Believe me, I know..."

He thrust deep, sheathing himself completely in one movement that tore the rest of my words into fragments. I cried out, my head falling back, rain striking my exposed throat. He was so deep I could feel him against my womb, so thick I felt stretched to my limit.

It was perfect.

I rode him. No grace, grinding against him as his mouth marked my throat and collarbone and found my breast, pulling with a fierce pressure that had me sobbing with the overload of sensation.

The storm closed us in a private world of water and flesh. His fingers found my clit, while his other hand squeezed my breast.

"Casimir—I’m—" I couldn’t finish. "Please—"

He bit my nipple. Hard. His fingers hit the right spot, and I came with a scream that the thunder swallowed whole. My body seized around him, clamping down in pulses that felt like they’d never end.

He followed, losing all rhythm, and he buried his face in my shoulder as he filled me. Both of us shaking as the rain chilled our skin.

I thought we were done. But Casimir lifted me, still half-hard inside me, and set me on the balustrade.

The cold stone against my thighs and the three-story drop sent a spike of terror through me. I gripped his hair, holding on for dear life.

"Casimir no—"

"Trust me."

He spread my legs wide, leaving me completely exposed to the rain and to the entire city below if anyone happened to look up at exactly the right moment.

I should have been terrified, but the fear twisted into arousal as his mouth traveled down my inner thigh. By the time he reached me, I was shaking again. He ate me like a starving man, no buildup, just his tongue driving deep and his hands bruising my waist to keep me from falling.

I wrapped my legs around his shoulders, locking my ankles. He licked harder, sucking my clit until I came with a broken cry, my body arching over the empty air until he yanked me safe against his mouth.

He gentled then, kissing my thighs until my heart slowed. Then he lifted me down, only to bend me over the stone. I gripped the wet stone with desperate fingers. The rough surface scraped against my ribs, my breasts hanging in the air, but I barely felt it, too focused on the press of his cock against my entrance from behind.

He gathered my soaked hair in one hand and pulled just enough to arch my back.

"Look," he commanded. "Look at the city, Clara. Look at what I’d burn for you."

The lights blurred through my tears. He thrust into me from behind.

He set a brutal pace. His hips struck my ass with wet slaps, his hand in my hair keeping me arched and exposed.

The other hand found my hip, then moved between my legs to rub at my oversensitive clit, and I was sobbing again, overwhelmed, my body responding to him even as my mind reeled from the intensity.

"Casimir—please—I can’t take it any—"

"You can." He growled it against my shoulder, his teeth finding the tendon there and biting down. "You will. Come for me again, Clara. One more time. Give me everything."

His fingers worked me mercilessly, matching his thrusts, and I felt another climax rising from my exhausted body.

I tried to fight it, but he knew me too well, knew exactly how to touch me, exactly where to press, and I was falling, screaming his name into the storm.

He followed immediately, his thrusts erratic until he’d buried deep, emptying himself inside me with a sound like a prayer and a curse combined.

His weight collapsed over me, still joined, shaking, rain streaming over both our bodies until I began to truly fear I might freeze to death.

Only then did he carry me inside. He set me on the edge of my bed, he found a cloth and dried me with careful strokes.

I watched him through half-closed eyes, too spent to move, cataloging the water still streaming from his hair, the marks my fingers had left on his shoulders, the absolute focus in his expression as he tended to me.

"Wait," he whispered, kissing my forehead. "I’ll be back."

He walked back out into the storm. I watched, confused, until he returned with his soaked coat. He fished something small from an inner pocket.

When he climbed into bed with me, he was still dripping, his skin radiating a heat that defied the night.

He didn’t say a word as he pulled a small velvet box from his palm, the fabric drenched and dark.

"I never got to propose properly."

He opened the lid. Inside was a ring. A thick gold band holding a deep, translucent jade stone.

I stopped breathing.

"Where did you get this?" I whispered, the sound barely audible over the rain still hitting the window.

"It was my mother’s. It’s been in the family for generations."

He took my hand, his thumb tracing my knuckles.

"I had intended to give it to you for your birthday. But it felt like now is the right time."

He turned the ring, showing me the inner band. Engraved in the gold was a name that felt like it belonged to a stranger.

Eleanor Thorne.

I stared at it. The description all fits. This was the ring Gary had touched. The ring that had pulled him across time.

"Clara?" he asked, his eyes soft and vulnerable in a way that terrified me.

"It’s beautiful," I breathed, shaking.

And I let him slide the jade onto my finger.