Page 112 of Shattered By Grace

“I got you, love,” he rasped, voice thick with promise as his mouth continued its slow, devastating path down her body.

His fingers followed, tracing the inside of her thigh, teasing, testing—drawing out every shiver, every hitched breath.

“Please,” she gasped, her hips tilting toward him.

That single word snapped his restraint.

He worshiped her with his mouth, his tongue, and his fingers, taking his time, drawing sounds from her she hadn’t realized she could make. He worked her up until she was trembling beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body bowing off the bed.

And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he moved back up, his lips capturing hers as he slid inside her in one slow, deep stroke.

The breath punched from her lungs.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice ragged.

Her gaze met his, and for a moment, everything else faded.

It was just them. Bodies tangled, breaths mingling, moving in sync like they’d done this a thousand times before, like this was exactly where they were always meant to be.

He moved with purpose, each thrust hitting deep, controlled but desperate, his grip tight on her hips as he held her right where he wanted her.

“You feel like fucking heaven,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against hers.

Her nails raked down his back, her body meeting his perfectly, every push and pull winding them tighter, sending them spiraling.

“Tristan…” His name was a broken gasp, her body tightening around him.

“I know,” he rasped, thrusting deeper, harder, losing himself in her.

Her body trembled beneath him, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as the last waves of pleasure rolled through her. Tristan didn’t stop moving, didn’t let her come down fully. His hands skimmed up her sides, his lips tracing the curve of her jaw.

And then, in a single fluid motion, he flipped them, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her on top of him.

Victoria gasped, her palms landing against his chest, her hair spilling around them in a wild mess. She barely had time to adjust before his hands moved again to grip her thighs, guiding her, urging her to take what she wanted.

His eyes burned into hers, dark and reckless, his control fraying at the edges. “Ride me, love.”

Her breath caught, heat pooling in her stomach at the command in his voice, the sheer need in his expression. He wasn’t asking,he was giving her everything.

A slow, teasing roll of her hips had his head falling back, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. His fingers dug into her skin, but he let her set the pace, let her take him as deep as she wanted, let her ruin him.

And she did.

She leaned forward, her lips brushing his, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “All mine,” she whispered, before sinking down fully, taking him to the hilt.

“Fuck, Vic.” His hands shot to her back, pulling her down until there was no space left between them.

She found a rhythm that had them both unraveling, her body moving against his like they were made for this, like this moment had been written for them long before either of them realized it.

Tristan sat up, his mouth catching hers in a bruising kiss, his arms banding around her as he thrust up into her, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Her nails dragged down his back, a broken moan slipping from her lips as his name tumbled from her mouth over and over again.

The desperation between them reached a fever pitch, the pleasure coiling so tight it was unbearable, their bodies locked together in something far more than just this moment.

Tristan tore his mouth from hers, his forehead pressing against hers, their breaths ragged, his voice rough and raw. “Look at me.”

She did.

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