Page 33 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

B efore Victoria could react, Tristan’s lips captured hers again, the force of his kiss sending a jolt through her body. His hands gripped her waist with an intensity that left no room for escape, pulling her so close she could feel every hard line of his body against hers.

Her mind spun, overwhelmed by the sheer dominance he exuded. This wasn’t about seduction, it was about control. And she couldn’t deny the dark thrill that raced through her veins at the thought of it.

Without breaking the kiss, Tristan pushed her backward, his presence towering over her, as he guided with an unyielding force. The door clicked shut behind them, but the sound barely registered in her mind, drowned out by the pounding of her heart and the heat of his mouth on hers.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t give her a moment to think. His lips left hers only to trail down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he nipped at her throat. The sensation was sharp, sending a shiver of both pleasure and fear through her.

“Tristan,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath, but her voice was shaky, betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he seized her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up so that her eyes met his.

His gaze was dark, predatory, filled with a dangerous mix of desire and something more primal.

“I’m not going to ask you what you want,” he said, his voice a dark whisper against her ear.

“Because tonight, I’ve decided. You’re mine, Grace.

And I’m going to make sure you understand exactly what that means. ”

“Hold tight, love,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp.

Before a thought could form in her head, Tristan’s arms slid under her, gripping her thighs with a possessive strength as he lifted her effortlessly. The kiss didn’t falter. It deepened as he started toward the couch. She broke just enough to gasp against his lips, breathless.

“Bedroom,” she murmured, voice trembling. She pointed behind him. “Over there.”

His smirk was all teeth and want as he adjusted course, steps slow and deliberate, each one crackling with tension.

The door thudded shut behind him with a swift kick, sealing them into their own world. His lips never left hers, stealing her breath as he pressed her back against the edge of the bed. Slowly, he lowered her, the heat of his body radiating against hers, his frame hard and unyielding.

Tristan’s hands slid to the nape of her neck, his fingers brushing her skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers racing down her spine.

His lips hovered over hers, a smirk tugging at the corners.

“Hope you’re not too attached to this shirt,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, the heat in his tone unmistakable.

With a quick tug, the fabric gave way, buttons scattering like tiny echoes against the floor.

Her breath hitched, her pulse quickening as he let the ruined shirt fall.

His hands moved with torturous precision, tracing her curves as he peeled away each layer of clothing, his touch equal parts gentle and commanding.

His gaze never left hers, dark and searing, as though memorizing every inch of her. When she stood before him bare, the intensity in his eyes deepened, his expression both reverent and hungry.

“I want to burn every inch of you into my brain,” he murmured, his voice thick with dark desire.

Without breaking eye contact, he dropped to his knees before her.

The sight of him there, worshiping her body with his eyes and then with his mouth, was almost too much to bear.

He started at her feet, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on her skin, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through her.

His lips trailed up her legs, kissing, nipping, teasing as he moved higher.

When he reached the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, she could barely contain the moan that escaped her lips. But just as the pleasure began to build, he moved again, his mouth hovering just out of reach, teasing her with the promise of more. He was in complete control, and she was at his mercy.

“Tristan,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need.

But he didn’t relent. If anything, he seemed to savor the way she responded, the way her body trembled beneath his touch.

He continued his journey upward, his lips brushing over her hips, her stomach, her ribs, until he finally reached her lips once more.

When he kissed her this time, it was with a fierce desire that matched the storm raging inside her.

His hands roamed over her body with an urgency that left her breathless, exploring every curve, every dip, committing her to memory.

His touch was possessive, claiming her as his own, and she found herself yielding to him completely, lost in the sensation of being utterly consumed by him.

As he pulled back, he pinned her against the wall once more, his body pressing into hers, making her feel the full weight of his dominance. There was no escape, no room for doubt. She was his, in every way that mattered.

He held her there, his eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, she knew that this was more than just physical. This was a battle for control, a test of wills, and Tristan had every intention of winning.

“I’m going to make you mine,” he whispered against her lips, his voice a dark promise. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

And as he captured her mouth in another searing kiss, Victoria realized she didn’t want to stop him. She wanted this, him, and she was ready to surrender to the darkness, to let him take her wherever he wanted. because in that moment, she was his, completely and utterly his.

“Say it,” he murmured against her lips. “I want to hear you say how much you want me.”

Victoria dropped to her knees with a ferocity that surprised even her, the cold press of the floor grounding her as her hands moved with deliberate purpose.

Her eyes locked on Tristan’s, daring him to say something, to stop her, but the look in his dark, stormy gaze only urged her on.

A flicker of surprise danced there, but it was quickly consumed by hunger, raw and unrelenting.

Her fingers brushed his waistband, the leather of his belt warm beneath her touch. She didn’t fumble, there was no hesitation. With a firm tug, she unhooked the clasp and dragged the belt free and with one smooth motion, pulled his pants down.

“Grace,” he rasped, her name breaking from him like a prayer and a curse as she slid him inside her mouth.

The low growl in his throat warned her, but she didn’t relent. She hollowed her cheeks, pulling him deeper, her hands steadying his hips as his control frayed.

“Don’t think for a second you’re the only one in control here,” Victoria murmured, her voice like a blade, sharp and cutting. Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she unraveled Tristan’s composure with deliberate, merciless skills of her mouth.

His fingers tangled in her hair, his grip firm but not harsh.

He guided her now, the pressure of his hand urging her on, his hips snapping forward to meet her movements.

Her lips stretched around him, and the rough, ragged sound of his breathing filled her ears, each gasp and groan feeding her own fire.

“Oh god, that mouth...” Tristan hisses.

Her body was a riot of sensation. His taste, his heat, the sharp edge of his control unraveling with every moment she held him there. She could feel his restraint slipping, the tension in him coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

“Enough,” he commanded, his voice rough, filled with both restraint and need. His thumb brushed against her swollen lips, and he could feel the tremble in her breath, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

With a sharp tug, he pulled her back, her lips releasing him with a soft gasp. His hand still tangled in her hair, he tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him, his gaze dark and wild.

Tristan didn’t give her a moment to breathe.

His hands gripped her arms, lifting her effortlessly as if she were weightless, before tossing her onto the perfectly made bed.

The room, bathed in soft, flickering light, felt charged with an electric tension as his gaze swept over the space before snapping back to her, locked on the curve of her exposed skin.

“Nice room,” he murmured, taunting her, as he ripped his shirt off in one swift motion, the fabric sliding from his torso with a harsh, deliberate pull.

Her mind went blank, her breath shallow as she watched him.

She’d seen him shirtless before, but this was different.

This time, she could touch him. Her pulse quickened, a flush of heat spreading across her skin, her body humming with anticipation.

W ould his touch set her on fire? Would this electric pull between them consume her whole?

The thought both terrified and exhilarated her, a knot of desire tightening deep inside.

Why did something so dangerous feel so damn irresistible?

Her breath hitched as Tristan reached for her again, his hands firm on her ankles, dragging her to the edge of the bed with a swift, possessive jerk. He loomed over her with a dark hunger in his gaze, his body tight with barely restrained power, like a predator poised to strike.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips tracing teasing patterns across the inner curve of her thighs, leaving marks of heat and anticipation in his wake.

Each kiss, each nip, sent sparks of sensation rippling through her skin.

When he reached the soft, sensitive flesh of her clit, a desperate gasp escaped her, her back arching instinctively.

“Uh…uhh.” The sound of her voice only seemed to fuel him.

He smirked, his voice a low, sinful whisper.

“If you think my tongue is magic, just wait.” The words rumbled from deep within him, thick with primal hunger, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

His growl was a promise, a threat, all rolled into one, igniting a fire deep within her.

He pressed closer, his heat radiating against her skin, his breath a scorching whisper that made her pulse race.

“Ready?” The question was a whisper, dark and tantalizing, carrying a weight that made her pulse quicken and her breath hitch.

“Yes…” The moment the word left her lips, he slammed into her, taking her breath away in a single, bruising thrust. The force of his movement sent shockwaves through her body, igniting every nerve, every inch of her skin with a fire that refused to be tamed.

Her gasp mingled with his low, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through her as his lips found the sensitive curve of her neck.

The room was alive with heat, their shared breaths mingling in the charged space between them.

Tristan’s hands gripped her hips with a possessiveness that made her pulse race, pulling her against him in a rhythm that was both unrelenting and devastatingly precise.

Each thrust sent her spiraling deeper, her fingers clawing at his back, desperate to anchor herself in the chaos of him.

His body moved like a storm—raw, powerful, and consuming—leaving her breathless and utterly lost in his control.

The sharp edge of his teeth grazing her shoulder drew a startled cry from her lips, a mix of pain and pleasure that blurred the line between surrender and resistance.

She arched against him, her body yielding, craving more of the addictive friction that unraveled her completely.

His name was a whisper, a plea, falling from her lips as the world around them dissolved into the wild, reckless connection between them.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough and laced with authority. She obeyed, her gaze locking with his, and the intensity in his dark eyes stole what little composure she had left. It wasn’t just lust, it was ownership, a silent vow that he wouldn’t stop until every part of her was his.

Her body burned under the weight of his attention, his hands exploring her curves with a reverence that felt almost contradictory to the raw hunger in his movements.

Time seemed to stretch and contract, every moment an eternity and yet not long enough as he drove her higher, pulling her deeper into the dark, intoxicating chaos that was him.

This wasn’t tender or sweet, it was primal, consuming, and all-encompassing.

The air between them was thick, heavy with the sound of their bodies colliding, the ragged breaths, the whispered words of need that escaped them both.

The walls seemed to close in, the world shrinking until nothing else existed beyond the shared heat, the raw electricity sparking between their skin.

When her release came, it shattered through her like a wave, pulling her under and leaving her trembling, her nails biting into his shoulders as her body convulsed against his.

But Tristan wasn’t finished. Not yet. He caught her face between his hands, pressing his forehead to hers as he drove her into a second wave, his relentless rhythm dragging her deeper into his orbit.

Her thoughts dissolved into sensation, her body and soul utterly exposed as he claimed her again and again. And in the aftermath, as they collapsed together, tangled in the sheets and slick with the remnants of their storm, one undeniable truth lingered in the silence:

She wasn’t just his for the moment, she was his entirely. And there was no escaping it.