Page 37 of Fractured Devotion (Tainted Souls #1)

His smirk deepens, and he leans closer, his breath hot against my ear.

“Good girl.” The praise ignites a fire in my belly, and I squirm against the restraints, the silk holding me fast. His fingers trail down my jaw, featherlight, then grip my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.

“You don’t move unless I say so. And you don’t come until I allow it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I breathe, the title slipping out instinctively.

The flare of approval in his eyes makes my clit throb.

He releases my chin, and his hand slides down to my throat, not squeezing but resting there, a silent claim.

My pulse hammers against his palm, and I know he feels it, knows he’s unraveling me with every second he makes me wait.

Without warning, he shifts, his body pressing between my thighs and spreading them wide. I’m already slick and aching, my cunt pulsing with need as he teases me with his proximity.

He doesn’t enter me yet, though. God, he makes me wait, his cock hard and heavy against my inner thigh, so close but not enough. Instead, he reaches for something on the nightstand—a feather, its tip soft and cruelly delicate.

Then, he drags it across my collarbone and down the valley between my breasts, and I arch into the sensation, a whimper escaping my lips.

“Patience,” he warns, his voice a velvet lash, and then he grazes the feather over my nipple, which is already taut and sensitive. The light touch is torture, sending sparks of pleasure-pain straight to my core.

I bite my lip, trying to stay still, but my hips buck involuntarily, seeking more. His free hand comes down on my thigh, a sharp slap that makes me gasp, the sting blooming into heat.

“Still,” he commands, and I freeze, my body trembling with the effort. He rewards me by leaning down, his tongue flicking over my nipple, hot and wet, before he sucks it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make me moan.

The feather continues its torment, trailing lower, over my stomach and circling my navel, until it brushes the sensitive skin just above my clit. I’m panting now, my wrists straining against the silk, desperate for more, for him.

“Please,” I beg, my voice raw, and he chuckles dark and low, the sound vibrating through me. “Please what, Celeste?”

“Please… fuck me,” I beg, the words spilling out, brazen and needy.

His eyes darken, and without warning, he thrusts into me, his cock thick and unyielding, stretching me in one brutal, delicious stroke.

I scream, the sound tearing from my throat as he fills me completely with no gentleness and no hesitation.

He doesn’t give me time to adjust, his hips driving into me with a relentless rhythm, each thrust deeper and harder, claiming every inch of me.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “So tight and so perfect for me.” His words are a drug, flooding my veins with heat as I take him, my body yielding to his every demand.

The headboard creaks with the force of his thrusts, and my bound wrists pull against the tie, the slight burn only heightening the pleasure coiling in my core.

“You were made for this,” he says, his hand sliding up my thigh, gripping my hip as he angles himself deeper, and hitting that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.

“My beautiful, broken thing.” His voice is a caress even as his hips slam into mine, the contrast driving me wild. “You take my cock so well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasp, my voice breaking as the pleasure builds, a tidal wave I can’t hold back. “Kade, please—”

“Not yet,” he snaps, “You come when I say so.” His control is absolute, and I surrender to it, my body his to command, his to ruin.

I’m trembling and teetering on the edge when he pulls out, leaving me empty and aching.

Before I can protest, he flips me onto my stomach, the silk tie twisting tighter around my wrists.

Then, he yanks my hips up, positioning me on my knees with my cheek pressed against the sheets.

“Again,” he orders, his voice a dark promise, and I obey, spreading my thighs wider and offering myself to him.

He teases me first, dragging the tip of his cock through my folds, which are slick with my arousal, before sliding back in, deeper than before. The angle is devastating, his cock hitting every sensitive nerve as he fucks me with steady, deliberate thrusts, drawing out my torment.

His hand twists in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to make my scalp sting, the pain blending with pleasure until I can’t tell them apart. His other hand lands a spank on my ass, and I moan, my clit pulsing, my cunt clenching around him.

“You love this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the back of my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “You love being mine, being fucked like this.”

“Yes, sir,” I whimper, and he rewards me with a harder thrust, his cock driving so deep that I feel it in my soul. Another spank comes, then another, each one pushing me closer to the edge, my body a live wire of sensation.

When he reaches around, his fingers finding my clit and circling with ruthless precision, I unravel. My orgasm crashes through me, my body spasming, my screams muffled by the sheets as I come apart beneath him.

He doesn’t stop, fucking me through the aftershocks, his own release building.

When he comes, it’s with a guttural groan, his face buried in the crook of my neck, and his cock pulsing inside me as he spills, hot and endless.

He stays there, still inside me, his breaths ragged, his weight a comforting anchor in the aftermath.

For a moment, we’re nothing but heat and breath, tangled in the wreckage of our desire.

Then, slowly, he pulls out, and I whimper at the loss.

His hands are gentle now, untying the silk tie from my wrists, his lips brushing the faint marks left behind.

He massages the tender skin, his touch reverent and grounding.

“Are you afraid of me?” he whispers, his voice soft now, almost vulnerable, as he pulls me against his chest.

“Terrified,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. But I don’t move, don’t pull away. I curl into him, my body still humming, my heart laid bare. Because this—this beautiful, brutal chaos—is exactly where I want to be.

Kade doesn’t move away right away. His body is still pressed against mine, the last tremors of our release pulsing between us. My skin is slick with sweat, my hair a tangled mess over the pillow.

The sheets beneath me are twisted, evidence of how feral and unrestrained it was. My wrists are red where the scarf was tied, my heart still thudding, and my lungs tight, though not from fear. Not anymore.

I feel something else.

A dangerous sort of stillness. Like the calm that comes after destruction.

Kade finally rolls onto his back beside me, one hand still touching my waist like he’s afraid I might vanish if he lets go.

“You okay?” he asks, not softly. Just directly.

I nod and swallow. I turn my head toward him but don’t speak. The words I want to say don’t make sense yet. My body still belongs more to the moment than to meaning.

He reaches up and brushes my hair back from my forehead. There’s something unsettling about the tenderness. It’s like he’s testing himself.

“I didn’t go easy on you,” he murmurs.

“I didn’t want easy.”

He watches me for a long time. The weight of his stare is heavy and invasive, searching.

“Why’d you come here tonight?” he finally asks.

I breathe slowly, the ceiling blurring in my eyes. “Because everything else felt unreal. And you… you don’t pretend. You appear to be brutal and dangerous. But you’re never false.”

His jaw tightens, like I’ve touched something private.

“I didn’t kill her,” he says.

“I know,” I say.

He doesn’t seem to believe me. But I don’t think he’s meant to.

I reach over and let my fingers brush his chest. I feel his heartbeat, steady and relentless beneath my palm. I don’t say anything more. He closes his eyes briefly, something flickering in his expression. Is it regret? Relief? I can’t tell.

We don’t talk much after that. We just lie there in silence. It’s the kind of silence that isn’t empty, but too full to speak into.

Eventually, I get up and gather my clothes slowly. My body aches deliciously, each movement a reminder of what we did. What I asked for. What I needed.

Kade watches me dress without comment, propped up against the headboard.

“I need to go back,” I say.

“To the clinic?”

“To what’s left of it.”

He nods. There’s no protest, no questions. Just an acknowledgment that whatever we are, it doesn’t need explaining.

I pause at the door, turning back once.

“Don’t follow me unless I ask you to,” I tell him.

His lips twitch in almost a smile. “You’ll ask.”

I don’t answer.

Instead, I step into the hallway, letting the cool air slip into my skin like resolve. Whatever happened tonight, it didn’t break me.

But it sure as hell changed me.