Page 108 of Fractured Devotion
His palms slide over my thighs, parting them as his mouth presses against the inside of my knee. Then higher. The anticipation coils inside me so tightly that I forget to breathe. He kisses the seam of my underwear, and my hips twitch forward involuntarily. I expect him to laugh, to tease, but he doesn’t. He just watches, ravenous and reverent.
“You smell like fear,” he murmurs, his voice hushed and thick. “But it turns you on.”
I don’t deny it.
He tears the fabric aside with his teeth, not roughly, but with the finality of a man erasing options. His tongue moves with expert control, careful and precise, teasing me until I bite my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
My legs start to shake.
He pins them with his hands, forcing me to stay open while he devours me like a secret he’s been aching to unearth. I cry out, a sharp, broken sound, one I don’t recognize but can’t stop.
“Say it,” he growls against my pussy. “Say you like being touched.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I like it.”
He chuckles, cruel and soft, before dragging his mouth back up my body. He removes my bra and cups my breast in his palm, using his fingers to play with my nipples and making me moan shamelessly as he claims the second nipple with his mouth.
His tongue flicks over my nipple, then bites gently, pulling a sound from me that’s almost a sob. He lifts me in one smooth motion, carrying me into his bedroom and laying me down on sheets that smell like dark soap and sweat.
I watch him undress slowly, methodically, as if offering me a striptease made of shadows and sharp edges. His cock is already hard, thick, and veined. My mouth waters at the sight of him. He notices.
“Next time, you can explore with your mouth,” he promises darkly. “Tonight, I need to feel you clench around me first.”
He grabs a tie from the closet and binds my wrists above my head. The silk tie bites into my wrists, a delicious restraint that anchors me to the headboard.
Kade’s hands are deft, knotting the fabric with a precision that speaks of practice, of control. It’s tight and unyielding, but the smooth slide of silk against my skin is a caress in itself, a promise of what’s to come.
My arms stretch above me, leaving me exposed and vulnerable, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as I watch him. His eyes, dark and molten, drink me in, and I feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch, stripping me bare long before his hands do.
He stands at the foot of the bed, completely naked, the hard planes of his chest catching the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The air between us crackles, heavy with unspoken commands.
My pulse races, a wild thing caged in my ribs, as he climbs onto the bed, his movements slow and predatory. He doesn’t touch me yet, but the anticipation is a torment all its own, my body aching for the moment he’ll break the distance between us.
“Celeste,” he murmurs, my name a growl in his throat. The sound sends a shiver straight to my core. “You’re mine tonight. Every gasp, every tremble. Do you understand?”
I nod, my throat too tight to speak, but he shakes his head, a faint smirk curling his lips. “Words, my sweet. I want to hear you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”
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?”
