Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Olline was in a daze, her heart too full from Casimir’s confession, her limbs still shaky from her near abduction. As soon as she stood, she swayed, and he frowned. He glanced around and, as Olline realized what he was going to do, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her through the apartment.

He held her so reverently, like she was the most precious thing he ever had in his arms. Olline snuggled closer, allowing herself to be held and taking the comfort he offered. That she deserved.

Stopping outside her closed bathroom door, his fingers dug into her body ever so slightly. “Are you all right to stand? Do you need help?” His words were so soft, so full of concern and want, that her core clenched in response.

She didn’t need help, but she wanted it. And if Casimir was offering? Olline would take it. The way he looked at her, so open and like she was his beginning and end, sent her stomach fluttering into her throat. It made it easy to let him take care of her the way she was finally realizing she deserved all along.

“I’m fine, honestly, Cas. But we’re both filthy. Seems silly to take turns.” She slid from his arms, her body trailing down the length of him. Casimir stood rigid, his nostrils flaring, his eyes locked hungrily on every single one of her movements.

With a smile, she bumped open the bathroom door with her hip, then gently took his hand before she could overthink everything. “It’s up to you, Casimir. If you’d rather take things slow after what you’ve gone through, I support that. I don’t want you to feel rushed or forced ever again.”

He stood motionless for a heartbeat.

Then his easy smile slowly bloomed on his face, making him glow. “The way you ask for my consent is perhaps the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. But what do you want, my dear?”

“You. This,” she whispered back without hesitation.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Your wish is my absolute desire,” he murmured, his words heated and breathy as he let her lead him into the bathroom.

Casimir kicked the door closed behind him. The crisp white light illuminated all the blood splatter in blinding detail. It hadn’t fully hit Olline that Casimir would have killed Wolfe to protect her.

She should be terrified of that. A logical, sane person would be.

But all she could see was the man who would have gladly given up his freedom if it meant keeping her from harm. For someone who couldn’t want or have anything of his own for a century, it was an incredibly selfless act.

Casimir’s hands had rust-colored flakes caked on them, and streaks of dried blood marked his neck and face from where it had rubbed off on him—from her. She stole a look at herself in the mirror, and her eyes widened at the sight, suddenly bashful.

Bruises marked her wrists, and the shadows of welts in the shape of a giant hand marred her face, not to mention the blood. Olline hadn’t seen what Casimir had done, where he cut or stabbed, but muddy red streaks painted the side of her face and neck. She was sure her hair was coated as well, but the dark moss and black of her hair hid it well. The bloodshot streaks from her tears and waning panic dulled the usually bright emerald green of her eyes. All of this was on top of the fact that, in her haste to find Casimir to begin with, she hadn’t bathed or changed her clothes.

To put it nicely, Olline looked like shit.

Why would Casimir want her now? Perhaps this was a mistake. Maybe she should clean up on her own first . . .

Casimir followed her gaze to where she stared at herself in the mirror, her surprised look of horror plain to see. Slowly, tenderly, he released her hair from the hasty bun she had tossed it in earlier, and ran his fingers through the strands, detangling it. “You’re a vision,” he purred, pulling her closer, giving her the chance to pull away.

He was always putting her comfort first.

The realization broke the spell. She tore her eyes away from her reflection, preferring to see herself as Casimir saw her, and hoping he, too, could see himself through her eyes. She gingerly reached up, cupping that sharp jawline in her hand, lightly pulling him toward her, their lips a breath apart. “I see you, Casimir. The real you. And you’re wonderful.”

His throat bobbed, his deep red eyes shimmering, and he lowered his lips to hers again. The kiss was soft, tentative, an entreaty against hers. She parted her lips, inviting him in. He moaned against her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers. His fingers, still tangled in her hair, tightened as he brought her closer, as he drank her in. She hummed in pleasure, and that little sound was his undoing.

Casimir devoured her like he had been starving all his life.

Holding her closer, his fingers wove through her hair, his mouth barely leaving hers for more than one shaky breath at a time. Her eyelids fluttered closed as contented bliss warmed her body, and she pushed his stained jacket off his shoulders. Her hands traveled down his stomach, dancing over every contour.

With a shudder, his lips left hers long enough to whisper, “Olline,” as her fingers hooked around his belt loops. He moaned deep in his chest, making it sound like a growl, and he stepped from her embrace only to tear his bloodied shirt off and kick off his pants.

Olline didn’t have time to admire him before his mouth was on her again. He peeled off her clothes, separating temporarily to pull her shirt over her head, as if any second where he was not touching her, where he was not kissing her deeply, was an eternity too long.

Cradling her head in his hands, his nose brushed hers again while she fumbled to turn on the shower. “You have haunted my dreams, Ollie. All of it was meant only to be a dream. You’re too good for a scoundrel like me.”

She smiled at him, gently nipping his bottom lip with her teeth like she had dreamed of doing. “You aren’t. I like you, Cas. You and the softness you keep hidden under your sharp, hard edges,” she admitted.

Casimir may have hidden the circumstances around how he came into her life, but he had never hidden his darker nature. Whether that was how he always was, or who he became to survive, it didn’t matter.

His breath hitched, and then his arms snaked around her, gripping her tightly as he pushed her back, the hot water nowhere near as scorching as his touch on her bare, blood caked skin. Delicately, he trailed his fingers over her, washing away the stains from her neck, out of her hair. His eyes were wide as he drank her in, like he couldn’t get enough. Suddenly, she felt shy under his adoration, the flush of her skin having nothing to do with the heat of the water.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “You’re glorious,” and then did not allow her to respond as his lips brushed hers again, his tongue a gentle caress against her. Her body softened, and she gave into the desire she had felt for him almost instantly, magnified tenfold now because she knew Casimir.

His hands continued to roam, but she captured them in hers and carefully, deliberately, cleaned them. She had no words to express how little she minded what Casimir believed were marks against his soul, all those unspeakable things Etzel had forced him to do that he disassociated from. He was not stained, not to her. But if washing away the very real blood from him was the only way he could feel clean with her, then she would wipe every drop of gore from his body again and again, for as long as he would allow her to.

Casimir shuddered under her touch, as she wiped the stains from his neck, the flecks in his hair, and the few smears that had found their way to his shoulder and back. Her touches were soft but deliberate, and she could feel the effect her administrations had on him.

He had tortured her with his light, coaxing touches when they were working at Refractory. Now she would repay the favor. Olline’s fingertips danced down his torso, lightly brushing the wet pelvic hair trail that started beneath his navel before her digits twisted to the side of his thigh. The ghost of a promise. His cock jolted, his body tensing as a ripple of pleasure coursed through him.

“Fuck,” Casimir growled. He pushed her back until she was against the shower wall. His arms caged her in, hands pressed firmly on either side of her head as if he needed to be tied to the wall to keep from grabbing her. In that moment, Olline understood she was trapped, her emotions forming an unbreakable cage just like Casimir’s arms around her body. Yet even if, one day, she freed herself from the affection locking her to Casimir, she would blissfully throw the key away with no regrets.

Olline smiled, tilting her chin up, an invitation he eagerly took. His teeth nipped along her throat, landing on the hollow where her shoulder dipped into her neck. Each little bite was an electric shock that shot straight to her sensitive clit. All the while, she softly caressed his taut skin with her hands, tracing every scar, showing him the care he had been denied for far too long.

Casimir’s arms quivered around her as her touches brought her back to his shaft, lightly dancing around the base of his thick cock. His hips moved against her, his tongue flicking, his teeth tugging her skin, a promise of what he so clearly wanted to, and could, do inside of her. But he held back, letting her tease him, bring him to the edge, and shit, she was so wet from that knowledge alone.

She wanted— needed him to touch her, wasn’t sure why he wasn’t. When it hit her. Casimir would not take what hadn’t been freely, and eagerly, offered to him ever again.

“You can touch me, Casimir. Please. ”

No more needed to be said. His mouth was instantly on her breast, his teeth light as he nibbled the delicate skin until her nipple puckered. He drew it eagerly into his mouth, his teeth teasing on the right side of painful. One hand moved from the shower wall, tracing the outline of her other breast briefly before trailing down between her legs. That barren, cracked desert landscape that was her loneliness blossomed; a rainstorm that was Casimir’s adoration watering the parched ground until Olline was positively blooming. She was vibrant and alive again in a way she hadn’t been since Achan crushed her spirit.

All thoughts of her not-quite-ex fled as Casimir’s long fingers moved between her folds to find her throbbing clit and rub it in slow, gentle circles, until she squirmed against him. Her lungs were on fire, unable to get enough air with how desperately she needed him to give her more, more, more. His thumb pressed down on the sensitive bud as one elegant finger slipped inside.

She opened like a flower under his touch. “Yes,” she cried, tilting her head back and hooking her leg around his hip, needing him to go deeper, harder, faster. He gave a muffled curse around her breast, releasing her only to kiss her with an urgent hunger that stole all the fire from her lungs.

Even in the shower, she could feel the slickness of her desire as he worked her pussy. Rotating his finger, getting the feel of her, until . . . there . She moaned into his mouth as he found that sweet spot deep within her. She could feel him smile against her lips, before he pulled away slightly, admiring the flush of her cheeks, the bliss on her face as he brought her waves of pleasure.

Casimir made it impossible to think. Olline’s blood was boiling, her legs shaking with the start of her pleasure beginning to crest. Her hands tangled in his wet hair, anchoring her. Her pussy clenched around his finger, and then that devil slipped another inside, opening her up. Her gasp did little to help inflate her lungs, her mounting orgasm taking up too much space as his fingers continued to twist and thrust and press down, harder, firmer on her clit.

“Cas,” she moaned. “ Please. ”

He released her, and she nearly cried out with the loss of him, when his hands cupped her ass and hoisted her up. His strong fingers dug into the inside of her thighs, positioning her so that her legs were spread wide around his waist, making it impossible for her to wrap them around him. He positioned her in a way that spread her open around him, a position that should be obscene, but all it did was turn her on even more. Casimir met her gaze, his quick breaths matching her own, and she saw her own delight in the obscene mirrored in his eyes. The thick head of his cock sought entrance, and he held it there, teasing her. Olline whimpered. She wanted all of him in her until there was no more space between them, until his breaths were hers and their thundering hearts pounded in unison. She arched her hips forward until he was finally in her, where he belonged.

Olline gasped with the fullness of him as he pushed himself a little farther into her. He panted against her neck as he waited for her to get accustomed to the length of him, his girth stretching her out in the most pleasant ache she had ever experienced with any partner before.

He felt made for her. They were two broken pieces that became whole together and Olline didn’t want to imagine a life without this—without him in it ever again.

With a deep growl that vibrated against her chest, he slammed the last inch home, burying himself in her until not even water could get between them. “Olline,” he cried, before rocking against her, finding the rhythm that carried her closer to the edge. He pushed her into the wall, releasing one hand from her ass to cup her head, protecting her from the shower tiles as he plowed into her.

She rocked her hips, angling down so she could rub against him as he drove himself into her, deeper, relentless. His breath was hot against her skin as he buried his face against her neck.

Pulling her leg up higher, he drove himself even deeper, and Olline cried out in ecstasy. “Fuck. Yes, Ollie. You’re perfect. Perfect in every single way,” he moaned against her skin, his tempo increasing.

Her orgasm was building within her with each desperate thrust. She threw her head back as much as she could, angling her body so he could hit that magnificent spot deep inside her again, and again, and again . “Cas”, she cried, her breath hitching as a tingling, tickling warmth spread from where he was rocking into her.

“Say it,” his words a demand, his tone a plea. “Say my name, my precious little caster. I want to hear you cry for me.”

His thrusting turned frantic as he moved his hips harder, faster, her back thumping against the wall as he pushed as far into her as he could. And even then, it didn’t seem like enough. Nothing was close enough. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, felt the muscles bunching beneath her fingertips as her nails dug into his skin and she sank her teeth into him.

Casimir bucked against her. “I want to hear you,” he rasped, his voice raw and husky with desire. “Scream for me, Ollie.”

It was how he said her name that threatened to push her over the edge. He made it sound like a precious, fragile bauble on his wicked tongue. Like she was the embodiment of magic, of perfection .

His pace was relentless, never slowing and then . . . “ Casimir! ”

Her orgasm was an eruption through her. She bucked against him, and he held her in place, drawing the wave out, rocking her through it as the currents of ecstasy tumbled over and through her, until her thighs were shaking and all she could do was hold on.

Olline wasn’t usually a one orgasm kind of girl, but it had been so, so long since anyone had made her finish this hard. Her pussy tightened around Casimir, and he changed his pace, continuing to draw out her pleasure at the sake of his own. His strokes were long and slow before he plowed into her all the way again. The stone in her walls shuddered as she lost control of her powers, too wound up in the sheer pleasure that was Casimir.

Blissful contentment enveloped her, a warm completeness that had her seeing in ultraviolet as her magic and her heart became one under Casimir’s reverence. It wasn’t until her orgasm finally faded, the rivers of lava that were her pleasure cooling, and her arms slack and sliding off his slick back, that Casimir could hold back not a second longer.

His pace picked up, frantic and desperate. His fingers dug into her skin, urgent to keep her close, for her to take all of him. He grunted, and moaned, “Olline,” drawing out her name until the sound was a sigh on his tongue.

With a final, violent thrust, he climaxed. His cock jerked in her as he slammed them against the shower wall. The vibration made her shudder against him, eliciting another moan from Casimir as he came deep within her.

They stayed that way for a moment, or perhaps an eternity. Olline didn’t know and didn’t care. The shower still steamed around them, but the water felt cool on her scorching skin. Casimir slowly, almost reluctantly, removed himself from her, and she could feel his cum roll down her legs as he gently lowered her feet back to the shower floor.

Olline was in a post orgasm glow, her mind hazy. How Casimir could think at all, she didn’t know. His touch was worshipful while he cleaned her, making sure he had not added any new bruises to her back from his passion. He turned off the water, dried them off, and then bundled Olline up in the fluffiest towel she owned.

Casimir carried her again through her home, taking her to the bedroom. Her orchids arched contentedly as they passed, as caught up in bliss as she was. Checking her over one last time, Casimir placed Olline down in the bed.

She looked back at him sleepily and chuckled lightly. Grinning, she twitched back her covers and patted the bed next to her. Casimir licked his lips, staring at her like she was a goddess, too beautiful to behold.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to be told twice because Olline was pretty sure talking was beyond her skillset at the moment.

Casimir slid into bed behind her, folding her naked body against the curve of his. He wrapped her in his strong, lean arms, and she melted against him. Olline burrowed against him until there was no space between them. His breath tickled her ear as he nestled his face into her hair, murmuring something she couldn’t quite make out, before pressing a light kiss to the top of her head, and sighing contentedly.

Olline had never slept so well in all her life.

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