His To Ruin (Of Lust, Desire and Obsessions)

The champagne burned sweeter than it should've.

I tipped the glass back anyway, letting it wash over the taste of the lie on my lips and the ache in my chest. I wasn't supposed to be here. Not in this club. Not in this dress. And definitely not in his world.

But the thing about wanting to forget, you'll do anything to lose yourself.

Tonight , I needed to forget.

Forget who I was.

Forget who I belonged to.

Forget the name of the man I'd been promised to marry.

The club pulsed around me, dark and dripping with desire. Bodies pressed, moaned, moved. I needed air. Space. Anything but this suffocating cage of glitter and heat.

I wandered down a hallway that was quieter, less crowded. Red velvet walls. Gilded doors. A hallway that whispered secrets with every step I took. My heels echoed until I found a door that was half-open, light spilling out like temptation.

I didn't knock. I just stepped inside.

He was there.

Alone.

Leaning back in a black leather armchair like he owned the air around him. A glass of something dark in his hand. His shirt half-open, revealing a chest inked in black lines and sharp sin. His tie undone, hair tousled, jaw shadowed with stubble.

I stopped breathing. He was a fine man, my eyes are blurry but I know he is a fine man.

My heart stuttered. I shouldn't be here. I'm engaged, somebody wife to be.

He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, slow and lazy like a lion toying with its prey. His gaze dragged across my body in a way that made my thighs clench.

"You're not supposed to be here."

His voice was smoke and gravel. Laced with something dangerous.

"I-I got lost," I whispered. My voice was breathless, thin. "Thought this was the bathroom."

His lips quirked. Not a smile. Just amusement. Dark and unreadable.

"You always walk into strange men's rooms wearing dresses like that?"

I glanced down.

The dress clung to me like it was painted on. Barely-there silk. No bra. No shame.

Blame the champagne.

Blame the fucking engagement I had no say about.

Blame him for looking at me like I was something he'd already imagined on his tongue.

"Didn't mean to interrupt." I took a step back, but the door clicked shut behind me.

"You didn't." He took a long sip from his glass. "Unless you're planning on running. In that case..."

His eyes darkened.

"...don't."

I didn't move.

Something electric snapped between us. Sharp. Wild. Forbidden.

"You're drunk," I said, my voice shaking.

"So are you."

And it was true. I could feel it in my blood. Warm. Heavy. Reckless.

He set his glass down with a thud and stood.

My breath caught.

He was taller than I remembered.

Wider. Meaner.

"Come here," he said.

I didn't think. I just obeyed.

Step by step until there was no air between us. Just heat. Just breath. Just danger.

His hand lifted to my jaw. Fingers rough. Thumb brushing my lower lip.

"You looked delicious," he murmured. "You know that, right?"

"Yes," I whispered. I should have left at that moment. But I told myself there is nothing wrong with one last night of fling. A good sex where you can be bad as you want.

His thumb slid into my mouth.

I sucked on it.

Something snapped in his eyes.

He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me.

Not soft.

Not sweet.

Claiming.

His tongue slid into my mouth like he already owned it. His other hand gripped my waist, pulled me against the hard length of him, made me feel everything.

I moaned.

He groaned.

I was pressed against the wall in seconds, his thigh between mine, rubbing against my heat through the soaked fabric of my panties.

His mouth tore from mine. "Say you want this."

"I do."

"I am going to fuck here without mercy."

"I know." My voice broke. "I don't care."

His hand slipped under my dress, fingers finding the lace that was barely hiding how wet I was for him.

"F**k," he hissed. "You're soaked."

I bit my lip. "Do something about it."

That's all it took.

He dropped to his knees like a man starved. Hooked his fingers into my panties and yanked them down. My leg lifted to his shoulder without a word, and then his mouth...

Oh God.

His tongue licked up my slit like it was something sacred. And then he sucked,sucked, on my clit until I saw stars.

I cried out, moaning so bad, so loud with a care in the world. My hands tangled in his hair. My hips bucked into his face shamelessly.

"That's it," he murmured into me. "Ride it, baby. Use me."

I came. Hard. Shaking against the wall, his hands digging into my thighs like he couldn't get enough.

But he wasn't done.

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then unbuckled his belt.

"I'm going to f**k you now," he said.

And he did.

Bent me over the couch like I was something to ruin. Slid into me with one long, hard thrust that knocked the breath from my lungs. He was so big that I could feel every inches of him filling me.

"You feel like f**king heaven," he growled into my ear. "So tight. So wet. So...Goddamn...perfect."

My nails dug into the leather. I was lost in him. In the sound of skin slapping skin. In the dirty words he fed into my ear. In the way his fingers curled into my hips like he never wanted to let go.

And just when I thought I couldn't take another second, he pulled out, turned me around, and pushed back in deeper.

I kissed him like I hated him.

He kissed me like he wanted to destroy me.

We came together. Loud. Messy. Real. Screaming like a slut.

His body collapsed against mine, breathless. His fingers still gripped my thighs like he couldn't let go. I felt raw. Split wide open.

But then, A knock. No, a voice.

"Mr. Wolfe, your car's waiting. Your mother said the Lancaster family is expecting you at the engagement dinner."

My blood turned to ice. I turned my head, heart pounding.

Killian eyes opened slowly. Watched the horror creep across my face.

"What did they say?" I whispered.

"Why are you looking that way?"

I shoved at his chest. "What the hell did they say?"

He pulled out of me slowly. Too slowly.

I pushed at his chest, breath catching. "Did they just say... the Lancaster family?"

He blinked. Confused. "Yeah. Why?"

I sat up, my legs trembling. "I'm Ivy Lancaster."

His eyes widened. All the heat vanished from his face.

"You're..." His voice trailed off.

He stood up too fast, reaching for his pants like it would somehow undo what just happened. "Victor's fiancée?"

I nodded, choking on the word. "And you're..."

He swallowed hard. "Killian Wolfe. His older brother."

Silence.

The air turned cold.

My stomach twisted.

I couldn't think.

Not after that.

Not after Killian Wolfe.

I stood in front of the room mirror, makeup smudged, neck kissed raw, thighs aching with the memory of him, and my own shame. My dress was crumpled on the chair. My panties torn. And in my purse sat the engagement ring Victor had slipped onto my finger just days ago.

I stared at it like it might vanish if I blinked.

It didn't.

And I didn't cry.

I just breathed.

In. Out.

Ivy Lancaster. Fiancée to Victor Wolfe. Future wife to a man I barely liked, let alone loved.

And I'd just let his older brother do unspeakable things to me against a leather couch in a room I shouldn't have entered.

What kind of woman does that?

The kind who's drowning.

The kind who mistakes lust for escape.

The kind who doesn't realize the devil wears her fiancé's last name.

Killian was already gone. No words. He just left. Just a memory of heat and hunger that hadn't faded from my skin. I should've been relieved. I should've taken the shame and shoved it down deep.

But I couldn't stop thinking about his mouth.

His hands.

The way he looked at me like I belonged to him, before he knew I already belonged to someone else.

I took the longest shower of my life.

Still didn't feel clean.

The engagement dinner was set for eight. I had less than an hour to put on the face of the perfect fiancée. The obedient daughter. A perfect act that Victor wouldn't suspect a thing.

And Killian... maybe he wouldn't say a word.

Maybe we could both pretend.

I arrived at the estate a little after seven. Had to rush back to my apartment, change into the dress I picked out a week earlier.

My mother beamed like I was walking toward a future, not a trap. My father didn't even look up from his drink. And Victor, beautiful, boring Victor, kissed my cheek with the same cold distance he always did.

But then I saw him.

Killian.

Standing across the room, tall and unreadable in a tailored black suit. The same eyes. The same lips. The same man who'd had me screaming his name just an hour ago.

And now he stood beside his brother.

My fiancé.

His jaw tightened the second our eyes met. His gaze dropped to my neck. To the faint bruises he left behind. Then rose again with fire.

He looked angry.

Like I was the one who'd done something wrong.

I tore my eyes away.

"I've missed you," Victor said, sliding an arm around my waist.

I forced a smile. "I've missed you too."

Lie.

Victor was safe. Predictable. Powerful in the way all Wolfe men were. But he didn't make my blood boil. He didn't make me ache. He didn't make me forget my own name.

Killian did.

Dinner was a blur.

Laughter. Wine. Empty conversation.

I barely touched my food. Killian didn't touch his drink.

But he touched me, with his eyes. Every chance he got.

Under the table, Victor's hand was on my thigh.

Across the table, Killian's stare was on my lips.

It was poison.

And I drank it.

"You alright?" Victor asked, brushing his thumb across my knuckles.

I nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just tired."

Lie number two.

I excused myself to the bathroom halfway through dessert. Needed space. Air. A minute to breathe before I drowned.

But the second I stepped into the hallway, a hand grabbed my wrist.

Pulled me.

Shoved me into a side room.

The door slammed shut behind me.

It was him.

Killian.

His face was stone. His voice a blade. "What the fuck was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're engaged to my fucking brother," he growled. "And you didn't think to mention that before I had you screaming under me an hour ago?"

"I didn't know who you were!" I snapped. "You think I would've gone anywhere near you if I did?"

He stepped closer.

Too close.

"Then why didn't you stop me?"

"I didn't know until after," I whispered. "Neither did you."

Silence.

Heavy.

Charged.

"You looked me in the eye and begged me to fuck you," he said, voice like gravel. "And I did. Hard. Deep. You let me ruin you."

I slapped him.

He caught my wrist before I could pull away.

"You don't get to pretend it didn't happen."

"I'm not pretending," I hissed. "I'm regretting it."

His expression darkened. "Then why do you look at me like you want me to do it again?"

My heart thundered.

My body betrayed me.

Because he was right.

Because I did.

"You're marrying my brother," he said lowly, voice thick with something that wasn't anger this time.

It was hunger.

Possession.

Something dangerous.

I pulled my wrist free, breathing hard. "It was a mistake."

"No," he murmured, stepping even closer until my back hit the wall. "It was the beginning."

I froze.

"What?"

He leaned in. Breath brushing my ear.

"I don't share, Ivy. And now that I've had you, once isn't fucking enough."

Victor's arm was heavy around me, an anchor I couldn't escape even if I wanted to. His breath was steady, calm, completely unaware of the storm raging inside me.

But I couldn't pretend any longer. Not with the raw memory of Killian still searing in my mind, burning into my skin.

I lay still, my body betraying me, aching for something that had no place in my life. Not when I was supposed to be Victor's.

But everything about tonight felt like a lie. From the engagement ring on my finger to the gentle press of Victor's lips on my shoulder, nothing felt right.

And then I remembered Killian. His face. His eyes dark with desire. His mouth. God, his mouth.

I felt the heat rush through my body again, as though I could still feel the press of his lips, the fierce grip of his hands, the savage way he'd taken me.

I needed to stop thinking about him.

But the more I tried, the more my body betrayed me. The pulse between my legs throbbed, reminding me of what I'd lost control of. What I'd given control to.

Slowly, quietly, I pulled away from Victor's embrace and slipped out of the bed. The cool air hit my bare skin as I made my way toward the bathroom, desperate to splash some water on my face, to wash away the desire that clung to me like a second skin.

I looked at myself in the mirror, my lips bruised, my neck marked with the evidence of Killian's hunger. I wiped away the dampness on my face, but nothing felt clean. Not anymore.

I knew what I had to do. I had to act like everything was fine. I couldn't let Victor see the wreck I had become inside. I wasn't allowed to.

I returned to the room and climbed back into bed beside Victor, trying to hide my unease. His arm draped over me again, and I stiffened beneath the weight. His lips brushed the back of my neck, but I couldn't push away the memories of Killian's kiss.

"Ivy?" Victor murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah?" I forced a smile, trying to sound convincing.

"You're quiet tonight," he said, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to rest on my hip. "Everything okay?"

I nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just tired. Long day."

He didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press further. His hand slid down my body, slipping between my thighs. My stomach flipped in a way I didn't expect. This isn't right, I thought. But it was Victor's touch, steady and sure, nothing like the desperate, raw craving I had felt earlier.

I should've stopped him.

But I couldn't.

When his fingers slid against me, I froze. The desire I felt for Killian rushed back at once, making it impossible to ignore. But I wasn't ready. Not now. Not with Victor.

"I'm not feeling well," I blurted, pushing his hand away gently. "Headache. Just... tired."

Victor paused, his fingers still hovering near me, his expression unreadable. "Alright," he muttered. "We can just sleep then."

I nodded, forcing my body to relax as his arm wrapped around me again, pulling me close. I breathed deeply, counting each second until I could escape. I had to.

****

The house was quiet, but I wasn't ready to face it. Not tonight.

I waited until Victor's breathing deepened, before slipping out of bed and padding toward the door. I needed air. I needed to breathe.

The cool night air hit my skin as I stepped outside. The tension between my legs, the ache in my body, gnawed at me, but the garden was empty. Or so I thought.

There, near the stone wall, stood Killian.

I didn't need to see him to feel the tension in the air. It hit me like a wave, making my heart race and my breath catch in my throat. I should turn away. Should go back inside. But I couldn't.

His dark eyes found mine immediately, and I felt a pull, like gravity itself had shifted.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor in my chest gave me away.

He didn't answer immediately. He simply watched me with those predatory eyes, his gaze trailing over my body, lingering just a little too long on the marks he'd left on me earlier.

"Your parents asked me to stay the night," he said, voice low, almost mocking. "They don't want me driving back at that hour. It was late."

I clenched my fists at my sides. "Why didn't you say anything inside?"

Killian took a step forward, his body impossibly close, until the heat of him seemed to press against me. "I didn't think it was necessary."

His lips curved into a smirk, but it was his eyes, dark and filled with desire, that had me frozen in place. I tried to move back, but there was nowhere to go. The garden wall stopped me.

Killian leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, his voice a whispered threat. "I see the way you look at me, Ivy. You can lie all you want, but I know what you really want."

"No," I whispered, but the word didn't have the strength I wanted it to. "You... can't. This is wrong."

He laughed, a low, sinful sound that made my insides tighten. "It's too late for that, sweetheart. You can pretend all you want, but you know as well as I do that this was never about right or wrong. This is about us."

His mouth found my neck again, his lips brushing over my skin as his hands roamed down to my waist. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All I could feel was him, his hands on me, his lips burning every inch of me.

I didn't fight him this time. I couldn't.

Before I knew it, his mouth claimed mine, hot and demanding, and I was lost.

I let him kiss me, let him claim me again. His tongue slid into my mouth, deep and possessive. And when his hands slid beneath my dress, pulling it up, lifting me against him, all I could do was moan in response.

"Ivy," he growled, his lips parting from mine, eyes dark with something savage. "You're mine."

"No," I gasped, but my hands found his chest, pulling him closer, my body arching into him, betraying me.

"Yes," he snarled. "You've been mine since the moment I touched you."

And with that, he pulled me fully against him, his hands lifting my dress higher, his fingers working quickly, desperately.

And I let him. I let him make me his again.