Page 56 of Shattered By Grace

“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. Would 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.

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