Page 54 of Fractured Devotion (Tainted Souls #1)

His wrists are still bound when I straddle his hips, the heavy leather cuffs biting into his skin. His breath is shallow, but his gaze is unwavering and burning as I settle on top of him.

“You wanted this,” I murmur, rocking my hips slowly against the thick press of him beneath me.

Kade lets out a deep groan, the chains straining with his instinct to move, to grab, to dominate. But he can’t.

Not tonight.

“And now you’re mine to use,” I add, my fingers tracing along his chest, my nails dragging down to his ribs with deliberate cruelty.

He shudders under me, his every restrained muscle flexing. “I’ll take everything you give,” he rasps.

“Oh, Kade,” I whisper, leaning close enough for my lips to brush his ear. “You’ll give far more than you think.”

I slide my hand down, curling my fingers around the hard length of him. His body jolts beneath me, his breath catching.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

I slow down, savoring the moment and watching the way his chest heaves beneath me. I trail my fingers along the sharp lines of his abdomen, dragging my nails lightly over his skin. My hand slides higher, my fingertips grazing his nipples.

He gasps at the touch, his body arching toward me.

“Sensitive,” I murmur, circling the hardened peak with a steady flick of my tongue.

I bite down, just enough to make him jolt, then soothe it with a kiss. My hands never stop moving, tracing every inch of him and committing every reaction to memory.

I shift lower, kissing a soft, teasing path down his stomach. My breath fans across his skin as I settle between his legs.

I press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, just barely touching, letting him feel the heat of my breath as I trail kisses along the length of him.

He groans, straining harder against his restraints. “Fuck, Celeste,” he growls, his voice breaking.

I smile against him, letting my lips part as I take him in, slow and steady.

I swirl my tongue around him, savoring the way he shudders under my mouth.

I pull back with a soft pop, leaving him throbbing and desperate.

Then, with slow precision, I rise to my knees and wrap my hand around him.

I start to pump him smoothly, teasing him to full, aching hardness while my other hand slips lower, my nails grazing over his thighs and watching him unravel beneath me, helpless and completely under my control.

“Tell me how badly you want to fuck me,” I demand.

He groans, his head falling back against the pillows, his chest rising with ragged breaths.

“I want to bury myself so deep that you forget every name but mine,” he growls.

I reward his honesty with a tighter stroke, squeezing just enough to make him groan through clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” I purr.

I shift, still fully clothed except for the loosened front of my dress, the hem pushed high around my hips. My panties are the only barrier, and I slide them aside with careful teasing precision, dragging the delicate fabric to the side.

I tease myself with the thick tip of his cock, just enough to coat him in my slick heat, watching his breath catch as I hover, fully in control and fully dressed, while he lies helpless and bare beneath me.

His eyes burn as he watches, helpless to touch.

“You like being helpless for me?” I taunt, lowering myself just slightly and feeling him press against my entrance.

He chokes on a moan, straining against the cuffs. “I like that you finally admit how much you need this,” he pants.

I sink down, taking him in inch by torturous inch, my walls stretching to accommodate him.

We both gasp.

“Fuck,” I breathe, the fullness igniting sparks under my skin.

He’s thick, pulsing, and impossibly hard beneath me.

“You feel that?” I grind teasingly, rolling my hips to drag every inch of him inside me. “You feel how well you fit?”

“I feel everything,” he growls, his voice thick with need.

I ride him slowly at first, grinding down hard and rocking my hips in a rhythm that makes my entire body burn.

His chains clink with every movement, his hands fisting in restraint as he watches me fuck myself on him.

“You wanted this,” I remind him.

“I want all of you,” he snarls.

I lean forward, my lips grazing his throat. “Then give me everything.”

I start to ride him harder, bouncing on his cock with fierce, punishing thrusts, each one dragging a guttural groan from his throat.

My nails rake down his chest, leaving marks he’ll feel for days.

“Say it,” I command, breathless from the pace. “Say you belong to me tonight.”

His voice breaks on a groan.

“I’m yours,” he growls.

“Louder.”

“I’m fucking yours!”

I slam down on him, clenching hard around his cock and grinding until we’re both shaking.

The tension builds, coiling tight between us.

“Don’t come yet,” I warn, riding him faster and harder.

“Please,” he groans, straining against his bonds.

“Not until I say so.”

He bites back a desperate growl, his body trembling under mine.

I lean close, my lips brushing his ear again. “Now,” I whisper.

We shatter together, both of us crying out as I clench tightly around him, his cock pulsing deep inside me.

His body arches, helpless against the orgasm ripping through him.

I ride out every wave, milking him dry until we’re both gasping.

When I finally stop, I collapse over him, breathless.

His wrists are still bound, his body limp beneath mine.

“Untie me,” he pants, his voice hoarse.

But I don’t move yet. Because now, the real game begins.

And I have questions he can’t run from.

I stay on top of him, our breaths tangled, our bodies still connected in the aftershock.

His wrists flex against the cuffs again, but there’s no struggle now.

Only surrender.

I shift slightly, rolling my hips with a pace meant to draw every reaction from him. He lets out a shuddering breath.

“You’re not in a position to demand anything,” I murmur, my voice dripping with satisfaction.

He groans low, his head tilting back as I tighten around him, still painfully sensitive.

“Celeste…” he rasps, his voice breaking from need and exhaustion.

I trail my fingers down his flushed chest, circling each red mark my nails left. “You said you’d give me everything tonight,” I remind him softly.

His breath stutters, the weight of those words sinking deep. “What do you want?” he asks, though he already knows.

I lean in, my mouth brushing his jaw.

“Everything you know about them, I suspect you answer to Rourke,” I whisper. “Every name. Every hidden file. Every plan they buried under the clinic.”

His body tenses under me, though his restraints hold him tight.

“You think I won’t trade this for your freedom?” I ask, grinding down smoothly and drawing a choked groan from him.

“You’re ruthless,” he breathes.

“No,” I correct, dragging my tongue along his throat and tasting the sweat and surrender. “I’m finished playing their game. And I’m using every tool at my disposal.”

His eyes flicker open, meeting mine, dark and wrecked. “You’d use my body for answers?”

“I’d use anything,” I whisper, my voice dark and low, thick with unspoken accusations. My fingers glide along the curve of his throat, lingering just long enough to feel his pulse quicken beneath my touch.

“Tell me,” I murmur, my gaze locked on his, watching every flicker of hesitation. I tilt my head, letting the weight of my words settle between us, heavy and sharp.

“Were you planted in my life?” My tone is soft, but it cuts deep. “Just like they did with my mother?”

I hold his gaze, unflinching, my expression unreadable.

His breath hitches, his body tensing beneath me as he registers the question. There’s a pause, the smallest shift in his features, but I see it. His lips part, but no words come immediately, only a shallow, shaky exhale.

“Answer me,” I press, my voice soft but lethal, my nails dragging lightly along his chest, coaxing out every suppressed reaction.

His chest rises unevenly, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough and touched with reluctant honesty.

“Celeste…” he breathes, his voice hoarse, the confession dragging from him like it costs him something.

“I was planted, yes. I was meant to watch you, guide you, and report on you. That was my role from the beginning. But from the first moment I saw you, I was already hooked. Obsessed even. You got under my skin in ways no one ever has. And about your mother… I swear, I don’t know what they did to her.

I never knew. I was only ever sent for you. ”

His eyes flicker, guilt darkening them, and his breath stutters as he watches my face for a reaction he knows might never come.

The confession lingers, thick as smoke.

But it isn’t enough.

Not yet.

I sit there, unmoving, still filled with him, his confession burning in the space between us.

His body is a wreck beneath mine—spent, bound, and trembling from the edge of pain and something deeper.

But I don’t move.

“You’re only ever sent for me,” I repeat, tasting the words like poison on my tongue.

His eyes are clouded but clear enough for me to see his regret. Or maybe that’s another mask. With him, it always is.

“What were you supposed to do, exactly?” I ask, my voice calm and almost gentle but laced with a threat he can feel in the way I squeeze around him.

He shudders, unable to hide the full-body jolt it takes him.

“Monitor you. Influence you. Gain your trust,” he admits breathlessly, his voice edged with a hollow laugh. “But they never expected this. They didn’t expect me to lose control. They didn’t expect me to need you.”

I lean down, my lips grazing his, soft and dangerous. “You think that’s going to save you?” I ask, tilting my hips just enough to make him gasp.

“No,” he croaks, his voice ragged. “But it’s the truth.”

I study him, every flicker of his expression, and every twitch of his restrained body.

He looks raw. Broken open.

And still, there’s something in his eyes. Defiance? Or devotion?

“Did they order you to seduce me?” My question is sharp, slicing between us.