Page 193 of Fractured Devotion
“It’s done,” she whispers, but there’s still a sharp glint in her eyes, as if she knows better.
I reach over, gently tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and letting my fingers linger along her jaw.
“Not quite,” I murmur, my voice rough with something darker than triumph.
Her breath catches slightly, but she doesn’t flinch. She leans into my touch with a subtle tilt of her chin instead, daring me to go further.
“Come get it,” she says, her voice a smooth challenge, thick with intent, every syllable like a match striking dry wood.
She knows exactly what she’s inviting.
I don’t mind a quick one right here, right now.
The sun still blazes outside, indifferent to the storm we ignite within the cramped metal shell of this van.
I press her back against the terminal console, her legs spreading eagerly around my hips, hunger blazing in her eyes.
“You want me to get it?” I growl, my hands already gripping her thighs and digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise.
“I want you to wreck me,” she whispers, her breath a taunt, her smile sharp enough to draw blood.
I don’t ask twice.
I pull her wrists together, binding them with a length of cord that had been coiled near the console, tight enough to restrain, just shy of cutting into her skin. She watches me, her breath quickening and her chest rising with every controlled inhale.
“You know what this means,” I murmur, leaning in close and letting her feel the threat in my voice.
“I wouldn’t have dared if I didn’t,” she purrs, her tongue flicking out to trace my lower lip.
I shove her harder against the console, my hand slipping between her thighs, my fingers finding her soaked and ready.
“Already wet for me,” I sneer, rubbing slow, torturous circles over her clit, and making her shudder.
“Always for you,” she gasps.
I slide her pants down her legs, push two fingers inside her, and curl deep, drawing a moan from her lips as her hips buck against my hand.
“You don’t get to come until I say so,” I warn, pumping harder and rougher, relentless.
She whimpers but nods, her pride keeping her mouth shut.
I lower my head, biting along the curve of her throat, marking her, claiming her, and leaving bruises she’ll feel for days.
Her skin tastes like sweat and desperation, her body writhing beneath my grip.
I pull my fingers free and drag them slowly across her lips. “Taste what you are,” I command.
She sucks them eagerly, her eyes locked on mine, every lick a challenge, every flick of her tongue a promise.
I free myself from my pants, the blunt head of my cock pressing against her and teasing her slick entrance, but not giving in yet.
“Beg for it,” I snarl, tightening the cord around her wrists.
She grins, defiant even in submission. “Please, Kade,” she whispers, her voice breathless and thick with lust. “Fuck me. Make me yours.”
That’s all it takes.
I slam into her in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt, her cry muffled by the thick air of the van.
