//CLARA//

The words settled into my bones before my mind could catch up. My body moved before I made a conscious decision to obey, turning onto my stomach, pushing up onto my knees, my ass in the air.

The position left me exposed, vulnerable, but the way his breath hitched told me he liked the view. His hands slid over my hips, his thumbs parting my cheeks, his cock pressing against my entrance from behind.

Then he was inside me again, his cock filling me in one deep, claiming thrust. My fingers curling into the sheets, my body already sensitive from the first round. He didn’t give me time to adjust. His hips slapping against my ass.

"Harder," I gasped, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts. "Please, harder."

He groaned, his hands gripping my hips tight as he obeyed, his cock pistoning into me with bruising force. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard knocking against the wall in time with his thrusts.

Outside, the yacht dipped. A sudden, rolling sway that had nothing to do with us. The sky had darkened beyond the portholes, the moon swallowed by clouds.

A storm was coming. I could feel it in the way the cabin tilted, in the distant rumble of thunder rolling across the water.

But I couldn’t bring myself to care.

The yacht swayed again, deeper this time, and Casimir’s rhythm shifted with it, harder, more urgent, like the sea itself was driving him into me.

Another wave of the yacht. Another thrust. Another crack of thunder.

I could feel another orgasm building, my body coiling tight, my breath coming in sharp, desperate pants.

"Touch yourself," he ordered. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

I didn’t hesitate. My hand slid between my legs, my fingers finding my clit, swollen and dripping. I circled it in tight, frantic strokes, matching his thrusts.

The dual sensation sent me spiraling. His cock filling me, stretching me, hitting that spot deep inside while my own fingers worked my clit. My orgasm hit me like a wave, my cry muffled by the sheets as I buried my face in the mattress.

Casimir followed with a groan, his release spilling into me as his thrusts stuttered, his body shuddering above mine. He collapsed onto the bed beside me, pulling me with him, my back to his chest. His cock was still inside me, softening but not slipping free. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"Still think we’re just getting started?" I murmured, my voice hoarse.

He chuckled, his arm banding around my waist, his hand splaying over my stomach.

I could still feel him pulsing with every breath I took. Then his palm began to move. Pressing inward with each rotation, massaging the taut skin of my lower belly from the outside while he filled me from the inside.

I gasped. The pressure of his hand against my abdomen made me feel every inch of him more acutely.

"That’s—" I couldn’t finish the sentence.

His thumb traced the line just below my navel, back and forth, matching the rhythm of his hips, which had begun to move again in slow, shallow rolls that made my toes curl.

"I know, little bird." His lips pressed to the back of my neck. "I’ve spent my whole life breaking things. Breaking people. But you?"

His breath ghosted over my skin. "You’re the only thing keeping me sane. And the only reason I’d lose my mind all over again."

The words barely faded and the time for patience had passed.

We had been circling each other for weeks, dreading the wedding I was supposed to have with Bartholomew, having no clue it would end like this. The two of us dancing around a fire that had finally been allowed to burn, and now there was no stopping the inferno.

We became two ravaging wolves, hungry and insatiable, tearing into each other with a desperation that bordered on madness. His hands were everywhere, pulling me closer even when there was no distance left between us. I matched him move for move, my nails raking down his back, my teeth sinking into his shoulder, leaving marks that would linger for days.

The world beyond this cabin—the syndicate, the scandal, Aunt Cornelia’s fury—none of it existed. There was only him. Only the heat of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his growl vibrating through my chest when I tugged his hair just right.

Then I pushed him onto his back and straddled him, my palms flat on his chest as I rode him hard and fast, watching his face contort with pleasure. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me, urging me faster, his eyes dark and half-lidded, his lips parted around ragged breaths.

But he wasn’t done with me yet.

"On your knees," he commanded, pulling out and sitting up against the headboard. "Now."

I obeyed, sliding off him and settling between his legs. His cock was slick with both of us, still half-hard, but it didn’t stay that way for long. I wrapped my hand around the base, stroking slowly, watching him thicken in my palm.

His hand shot out, fingers gripping my jaw. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to let me know he was in control. His thumb pressed against my cheek, forcing my mouth open.

"You wanted to know how far I’d go," he said, his voice a low rasp. "Open wider."

I did.

He guided himself to my lips, the head of his cock pressing against my tongue. I took him in, inch by inch, my throat tightening as he pushed deeper. He didn’t stop until I was gagging, tears streaming down my cheeks, my nose pressed against his pelvis.

"Breathe through it," he ordered, his hand still gripping my jaw, holding me in place. "You can take more."

I swallowed around him, my throat convulsing. His hips bucked, shoving himself deeper, and I choked, spit dripping down my chin.

"That’s it," he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. "Look at me."

I forced my eyes up to his. His gaze was dark, pupils blown wide, his lips parted. He looked wrecked.

"Don’t stop," he said. "Not until I tell you."

I didn’t.

I took him deeper than I ever had before, my throat relaxing around him, my tongue pressing against the vein on the underside of his cock.

His hand fisted in my hair, controlling me. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t have to be. I didn’t want him to be. I wanted him rough.

"Damn, Clara—"

His hips jerked, his cock swelling in my mouth, and I knew he was close. But he pulled me off before he could come, his breathing ragged, chest heaving.

"Not yet," he said, hauling me up and crushing his mouth to mine. "I’m not coming in your mouth tonight. I want to be inside you when I do."

The night stretched on. We took each other on the desk, we moved to the armchair bolted to the floor near the corner, the yacht climbing and plunging with the waves.

I rode him there, my hands braced on his shoulders as I set the pace, his eyes never leaving mine. Lightning flickered through the portholes, illuminating his face in stark white flashes, his clenched jaw, lips swollen from my kisses.

At some point, the storm began to wane. The yacht’s wild pitching softened into a gentle sway, and the thunder faded to a distant rumble. But we didn’t stop. Not yet. Not until we had exhausted every ounce of the hunger that had been building since the last time we’d touched.

Which was only weeks ago. But in desperate, Casimir-starved Clara time? That was practically a lifetime.

By the time the first hints of dawn crept through the portholes, we were a tangle of limbs in the bed, the sheets damp with sweat and other, more intimate fluids. Casimir was sprawled on his back, one arm slung over his eyes, his chest rising and falling steadily.

I traced the skin on his torso with my fingertips, memorizing the ridges and valleys of his corded muscles. The scratches I had left on his chest were already darkening into angry red lines. The bite mark on his shoulder was a perfect crescent of my teeth.

"Are you counting?"

"Counting what?"

"The marks." He moved his arm, turning his head to look at me. A tired smile tugged at his lips. "You’ve been at it for a while."

"Just admiring my handiwork." I smirked, letting my fingers trail lower, over his stomach, feeling the muscles jump beneath my touch. "I’m making sure I don’t forget any of them."

"You won’t."

He turned me onto my side, cradling me against his chest, his arm locked around my waist. His already hard cock pressed against my ass. I could feel his smile against my skin.

"And have I already told you..." he trailed, his fingers found me without looking, sliding through my folds, circling, teasing, "that we were just getting started, my love."