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SHATTERED AND TEMPTED Novel Cover

SHATTERED AND TEMPTED

Freya’s world implodes when she discovers her marriage is a lie. Amidst the ruins of her life, Steve Hayes appears—a rugged newcomer with an all-consuming, possessive streak. While Freya struggles with her self-worth and broken trust, Steve is determined to claim her entirely. Tired of playing the submissive wife, she finds herself dangerously lured by this tattooed stranger. As revenge and dark desires collide, Freya is ready to let him ruin her.
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Chapter 8

Freya POV 

I looked up at his face. His Storm-gray eyes locked on mine, intense, unblinking, like he was memorizing every millimeter of my face. And for the second time, it's just like my pain personally offended him.

And in that instant something inside me cracked open.

Just this once, I thought. I want to feel like a woman again. Desired. Seen. Commit a sin and pray not to regret it.

After all, after tonight I would file for divorce. I would pack Luna's things and mine, leave this city, run my business remotely, and leave the house that still smelled like Mark, leave the woman who had quietly taken my place in my daughter's stories and my damn husband's bed. 

I will go for a clean break. A new start somewhere the neighbors didn't know my shame.

And right now, just one reckless night with the man who looked at me like I was worth ruining for... it didn't feel like betrayal anymore. It felt like survival.

I lifted my chin, met his gaze, and let another tear fall on purpose.

"Yes," I whispered. "It is."

The words barely left my mouth before I moved.

I grabbed the back of his neck with both hands and pulled him down hard. My mouth slammed into his-with zero hesitation, no second thoughts. 

He groaned low in his throat the second our lips met. His arms locked around my waist instantly, yanking me flush against his bare chest so tight I could feel every ridge of muscle pressing into me. My breasts crushed against him, nipples already hard and aching through the thin fabric of the dress. I opened my mouth wider, tongue pushing against his.

He kissed back just as rough-teeth grazing my lip, tongue stroking deep, like he was ready to devour every corner of my mouth. One of his hands slid down to grip my ass, his fingers digging in, lifting me until my thighs wrapped around his hips. The hard length of him pressed right between my legs, thick and insistent through his joggers, rubbing against me with every shift of his hips. I moaned into his mouth, shameless, hips rocking forward on instinct, chasing that pressure.

My nails raked down his shoulders, hard enough to leave marks. He hissed but didn't pull away-only kissed me harder, walked us forward until my back hit the mirrored wall with a thud. The cold glass made me gasp, but I didn't care. I arched into him, grinding down, feeling how wet I already was, how soaked my panties had become just from his mouth and his hands and the way he held me like he couldn't get close enough.

His other hand came up, rough palm cupping my breast through the dress, thumb brushing over my nipple in slow, firm circles. I whimpered while my head fell back against the mirror. He dragged his mouth down my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise, teeth scraping the sensitive skin just above my collarbone.

"Fuck," I breathed, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him there. "Don't stop."

He didn't. Kept sucking my neck. Licking. Biting lower. His hips rolled slowly against me. Deliberate. Grinding his cock right over my clit. Every drag sent heat shooting through my pussy. My thighs started trembling around his waist. I couldn't control it. My legs start shaking badly. Pussy clenching on nothing. Dripping so much I felt it run down my inner thigh.

His tongue moved up. Found my ear. Slid inside. Wet. Hot. Rolled slowly around the shell. Licked the sensitive spot behind my lobe. Then sucked the earlobe between his lips. Bitee gently. Tongue pushed back in. Fucking my ear with slow strokes. Breath hot against my skin.

My whole body jerked. Legs shook harder. Pussy throbbed. Clit swollen and aching against his grinding cock. I only wanted one thing now. Him inside me. Fucking me hard. Right here. Against the wall. Filling me. Stretching me. Making me come on his cock.

I reached down fast. My fingers fumbled at his jogger's waistband. Wanted to feel him. Wrap my hand around that thick length. Guide him inside my pussy. I need it now.

But his hand caught my wrist. Tight. It stopped me cold.

I froze. Breathing raggedly. Staring at him.

He pulled his mouth back just enough and looked at me. Eyes dark. Pupils are huge. Lips wet and swollen from mine. Chest rising fast.

"Not tonight," he said. Voice rough. Firm.

I blinked. "What?"

"Not while you're still married."

The words hit hard. Like ice water dumped on me.

I stared. My legs are still wrapped around him. My dress bunched at my waist. Pussy still pressed to his cock. Body screaming for more. And he said no.

"Are you serious?" My voice cracked. Angry. Hurt. Humiliated.

"Yeah." He didn't move. Didn't flinch. "I want you. Bad. But not like this. Not when you go home to him after."

I shoved his chest. Hard. He let me slide down. My heels hit the floor. My legs shook so bad I almost fell. Had to grab the mirror to steady myself.

"You're fucking kidding me," I spat. Hands trembling. Body on fire. Freezing. Aching.

He dragged a hand over his jaw. Exhaled roughly. "I'm not going to be the guy you use to get back at him. When that marriage is really done-come back. Then I'll fuck you until you forget his name. Until you can't walk straight. Until all you can say is mine."

Tears burned my eyes. Angry ones. the fact that he put the dot together already and figured out it's my broken marriage that flushes me out this way

I laughed once. Bitter. Broken.

"Fuck you, Steve."

I yanked my dress down. Hands shaking. Turned. Stormed to the door. Heels clicked loud and mad across the floor.

I thought he would call me back, but he didn't call my name.

Didn't try to stop me.

I shoved the glass door open so hard it banged against the wall.

The night air slapped my face.

I got in the car, slammed the door, and gripped the wheel until my knuckles hurt.

My thighs were still slick.

My lips still tingled from his mouth.

My body still ached for him.

And I hated him for stopping.

But mostly I hated how right he felt.

I started the engine.

And right at that moment, I made up my mind; I knew exactly what I was going to do next.

Divorce papers.

New city.

New life.

And maybe-just maybe-when it was all over, I'd come back here and let him finish what he started, but I prayed not.

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