Page 21 of Shattered & Returned

Because proper or not, I’d die if he stopped now.

The moment his tongue abandoned me, the autumn air rushed in, sharp and cold as ice against my exposed skin. Some semblance of common sense returned through the haze of fever.

“That’s—” My breath came in ragged bursts. “I never agreed to your terms.”

“And what are my terms?” His purr ghosted over my damp flesh. The words vibrated against my core, his breath teasing my still-throbbing entrance.

My body hummed like an instrument.

When he lowered my legs, my every muscle protested. I stayed put, letting my gaze spell what my pride wouldn’t admit.

His palm cradled the back of my skull as the other traced downward—over my ribs, my navel, lower—each touch branding me more thoroughly than any contract.

My tender breasts grew heavy. He cupped my left breast first, his rough, powerful fingers brushing over my perky nipple before increasing pressure.

“Yes, devi—!” My moan fractured into a gasp as his fingers clamped down on my nipple, sharp pain blossoming into white-hot pleasure. The dual sensations crashed through me, leaving my nerves alight.

Then he twisted.

A full rotation. More. As if he meant to tear it free.

Agony and ecstasy collided, wringing a scream from my throat. My head snapped back, but his palm was already there, cradling my skull before it could meet stone.

The realization hit like lightning: pain had always been my secret compass. Even as a child, skinned knees and bruised elbows sent strange flutters through my belly. Now, under his merciless hands, that old truth roared to life.

His fingers didn’t hesitate. Didn’t judge. The certainty in his touch sent a new kind of heat through me—one laced with equal parts dread and exhilaration.

Does he see me as broken? Or does breaking me excite him?

The thought should have terrified me. Instead, my pulse kicked up a notch.

I forced outrage into my voice. “What are you…stop!” The protest sounded thin even to my own ears.

“You came apart beautifully,” he rumbled, thumb circling my hipbone. “And I’ve barely started.”

That promise coiled low in my belly. Unhinged? Perhaps. But the danger only made him more intoxicating.

His hands gripped my knees, spreading me wider before lifting me effortlessly.

Then—

Heat.

The shockof his mouth against me stole all thought. His tongue moved with possessive mastery, each lick sending electric currents up my spine. I gasped, fingers twisting in his hair as my legs trembled. The autumn chill vanished, replaced by the furnace of his devotion.

“Do you want more, my flower?” he whispered against my oversensitive flesh, wreaking havoc on my senses.

I could only moan, my hips rocking of their own accord.Morewasn’t a concept—it was a need etched into me.

The scrape of fangs—fangs—against that sensitive peak sent panic slicing through my pleasure. I barely had time to gasp, “No bite!” before sharpness pierced me.

White-hot ecstasy detonated at the point of contact. Pain and pleasure twisted together, wringing a scream from my throat as my back arched off the furs. My legs thrashed, but his grip held firm against the tidal wave crashing through me.

“You’ll be fine, baby.” His voice was smoke and embers.

He was right. The pain melted, leaving only liquid fire in its wake as my body shattered. My first real climax hit like a thunderclap, all-consuming, undeniable, dragging moans from depths I didn’t know I possessed.

His palms pinned my hips as his tongue plunged deeper, drawing out every last tremor of my climax. I arched up again, my inner walls fluttering around the intrusion, each pulse wringing another satisfied groan from him. The sound was obscene, primal, like a starved man finally tasting water after years in the desert.

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