Quintessentially Q Page 2

  Ah shit, I was a goner. I was completely and mind-bendingly falling for this woman.

  I swallowed back the thick taste of lust and murmured, “Too fucking late, esclave. I’m ruined beyond redemption.” In the last moment of gentleness, I pressed my forehead against hers and breathed deep. “I’m lost.” Then the gentleness left, abandoning me to the hard-edged need to hurt.

  In one swoop, I hauled her upright. Her hands flew to mine clutched in her silky curls. Her gaze smouldered to smoke, and her perfect pink lips trembled.

  “You really shouldn’t push me. I asked for time.” I shook her hard, furious for making me lose control. Control was my one weakness—take that away from me and the consequences were disastrous. “I’m done fighting. You happy now?”

  Her chest rose sharply as she sucked in another unsteady breath. A flicker of indecision filled her eyes before being swallowed by heavy, heated lust. “Yes. Extremely. There’s the man I returned to. The one I want to fuck me.”

  My cock lurched forward in the prison of boxer-briefs, aching with the need to plunge deep inside her. I pulled her forward, licking my lips. I’d take her hard. I didn’t want docile; I wanted savage.

  Her eyes fluttered closed as I crushed my mouth against hers.

  She sighed as I licked her lower lip with an angry tongue. Her body yielded into my touch, surrendering her false fight, showing me just how much she needed this—this violence.

  I pulled away, releasing her hair to capture her wrist. The same tattooed wrist with barcode bars and fluttering sparrow. A mockery of her slave status and a talisman of her freedom. “You should know by now I don’t do things you want me to do, esclave. Your permission isn’t what gets me off.”

  She frowned as I dragged her across the thick white carpet and forced her to kneel in front of the mirrored chest. Breathing hard, I stalked to where I left my trousers on the floor last night and withdrew the key.

  “Open it.” I passed the key to her, my hand steady, but heart beating wildly.

  She glared, hesitating for a moment. Her body language stiffened at the command. I thought she’d disobey again, but she nodded and slipped the key obediently into the lock.

  My back turned rigid, every muscle throbbing on high alert. Tess thought I had a soul, a heart. What I stored in the chest would prove all her stupid sweet fantasies were false.

  There was no doubt I wanted Tess. There was no question she made me feel something I’d never felt before…but there was also no doubt that it wasn’t enough. I was too damaged from too young an age to be able to change.

  Tess took a deep breath, cracking open the lid. I expected a squeal, a gasp…something to indicate awareness of what she tempted, but deathly silence filled the room.

  I gritted my teeth, looking over her shoulder. The first lot of apparatus was tame. Any sex shop or adventurous couple would have a few sneaky purchases.

  Three whips; four floggers of different thickness; two paddles; three sets of nipples clamps; butt plugs and cuffs of every description. In fact, they were so tame, they turned me off at the thought of using them on Tess.

  Tess ran delicate fingers along the items, a slight frown on her face. Why the hell was she frowning?

  “Speak. Are you disappointed? Expect to find a rape kit in there? A shovel to get rid of your body, perhaps?”

  She flinched at the word rape and I cursed myself to hell for using it. Once again my rage and hatred toward Lefebvre rose; I wanted to hack his corpse into worm food. Fucking bastard for hurting what was mine to protect.

  Tess looked up, craning her swan-white neck. “It’s just… I expected—” She swallowed and didn’t continue. Instead, she shook her head slightly and returned to the chest.

  Picking up a black rubber dildo, she murmured, “I don’t want dildos when I can have your cock. I knew you had the whips and floggers, but I don’t know…” Her voice dwindled off, and damn it to hell, she made me feel like I lacked. That I wasn’t hard-core enough for her.

  I would only be completely satisfied when she was red with blood and whimpering in my arms. That’s the sort of sick fuck I was. For Tess to think I was tame. Shit, it made me want to prove just how dark I wanted. Just what sort of depraved thoughts lived in my skull.

  I ran a hand over my head, cursing her silently. You’re competing with yourself. Do you see how fucked up this is?

  Merde. “It’s a shelf. Look harder.” My voice didn’t sound right. Too dark, too coarse.

  Her eyes flashed to mine, and something sparked between us. The chemistry and need that always simmered roared into an out-of-control fire. My heart raced, and my already rock-hard cock throbbed with need. All I could think about was the taste of Tess on my tongue and the memory of whipping her in my mind.

  Inching higher on her knees, Tess found the small latch on the shelf and pulled it away.

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  Yes, oh. The sickness and blackness was there for her to see. I hadn’t used any of the toys—not that they could be called toys. More like torture equipment. I didn’t know why I owned them. I never planned to use them. Until now.

  Tess lifted out the Japanese silk rope. It was said to tie into a knot so strong, not even blade or teeth could get it undone. It burned the skin when the captive wiggled, and the glowing crimson of the threads looked so like blood my mouth watered.

  Tess stroked the rope once, before draping it over her naked thighs and reaching for the next item. I didn’t want to tear my eyes away from the rope on her skin, but my stomach twisted at the next item.

  A harness.

  The same type my sick, perverted father used to string women up with their heads between their legs hanging from the ceiling. Arms bound, legs bound, head bound…there would be nowhere Tess could run. No place I wouldn’t be able to touch.

  I shuddered as a band of need squeezed my balls. The thought of Tess strung up so helpless filled me with restless urges. I stepped forward, compelled to pounce and truss her up. To make her scream, needing my cock.

  Her eyes flashed to mine as I took another step, nudging her knee with my foot. She gazed from beneath her thick lashes, eyes swirling with complexities that I couldn’t figure out. Her chest rose as courage, sharp and brittle, etched her face.

  “Do you like the thought of having nowhere to run? Nowhere to hide, esclave?”

  Slowly, ever so slowly, she put the harness to the side. Her nipples sprung to a peak beneath my white T-shirt she wore to bed. “I know I can’t run from you, Q. And I wouldn’t want to. Not truly.”

  Her voice was breathy but tense, and instead of amping my lust, it dampened it. I froze as she reached for another item. Why exactly was I letting her see this? My hands itched to slam the lid and barricade her from ever looking again.

  Tess pulled out a bright red ball gag, a vinyl bodysuit with only a mouth slit and an opening between the legs, and a bar with cuffs for wrists and ankles.

  Each item Tess placed on the floor filled me with more and more repulsion. Laid by my feet was evidence of my true sickness. My needs transcended middle-class kink and verged on life-threatening. I didn’t want fake fear or tears. No. I wanted the whole damn truth. I wanted to possess and obsess and consume. I wanted to be the air that Tess breathed. I wanted to be the water she drank. Keeping her alive all while wanting to kill her.

  I never spoke truer words to Tess before. I was totally and utterly exhausted.

  Tess made a noise, dragging me from my thoughts. I flinched at the item in her grasp: a red leather bag. I lunged for it, just as Tess pulled the zipper.

  She moved too fast, swiping it out of my reach. “Let me see.” Her tone bordered on angry and a plea. Such a sweet cocktail of sounds.

  I nodded, backing away from the items in the bag. Items I really, really wanted to use at that moment.

  Tess lifted out a pair of silver scissors, a small knife, and three crystal vials. She didn’t bother pulling out the suction syringe I knew was in there to collect
blood.

  She rocked on her heels, pinning me with her grey stare. “I always wondered why you ruined so many of my clothes. You could’ve demanded I strip, but you always preferred to cut them, or burn, or tear. Is it because you secretly want to do that to my body? Tear me apart? Flay me? See my blood running like a river?”

  I shut my eyes. I couldn’t handle the image she painted. The image I wanted. So. Fucking. Much.

  Tess grabbed my ankle, pulling herself up my mostly naked form until she stood before me. Her warmth seeped into mine, and I wondered what would happen if I reached for her to give her something as simple as a hug: a show of tenderness, of sweet emotion. Could I survive it or would I crush her, squeeze her—go too far like I did every time?

  Tess answered for me. She pressed a flogger into my grip. “You’re wrong to think your box of horrors scares me. It doesn’t.”

  My eyes, heavy with regret and self-loathing, opened to drown in hers. She was so close, the swirls of blue and grey in her irises looked like angry seas. I tried to decipher the fear, stubbornness, and lust in her soul.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You need to talk to me. You can’t keep secrets, maître. Not anymore. I won’t let you.” Stepping back, she ripped my T-shirt over her head, standing before me naked. With the courage of a warrioress, she pinched the white flesh of her lower abdomen. “Here. I want you to scar me here. Mark me if it will make you feel better. I want you to accept what I’m giving you. I want you to embrace it.”

  I threw the flogger down. She didn’t offer me her body. She offered insanity. I wasn’t man enough for her, but I sure as hell had enough beast inside. But the man was a coward. I refused to drop the walls and let myself be fully free—no matter what promises Tess made me say. Scar her? Didn’t she know I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop at one?

  I touched her taut belly with a fingertip. So smooth, so silky, so feminine. Tess panted softly, and her breasts rose and fell, teasing me, making me lose all inhibitions. Only she could spin this sort of web around me. Only she could make me so fucked up and confused.

  Cupping her breast, I pinched her nipple, hard. No gentle foreplay, just a possessive clinch. Her head fell forward, resting on my chest. Her scent of orchids and frost was the last of my undoing.

  I gave up.

  I gave in.

  I wanted, and I wouldn’t stop.

  I’d been going around in circles, letting my thoughts tangle and trip. Now, I was clearheaded and eager. Eager to embrace the role of hurtful, insatiable master.

  My hand trailed from her breast up her neck and captured her throat. Wrenching her head back, I met her turbulent eyes with mine. Anger blazed through me. “You couldn’t just give me time, could you, esclave? Now I’m pissed and angry, and I don’t know the limits of my control. I’ve given in and nothing else matters but fucking you.” I shook her, tightening my fingers around her neck.

  She didn’t move, her arms stayed by her sides, and she let me throttle her. I tested her, noosing my fingers until the yielding, fragile muscles in her neck made my head swim with delirium.

  Tess did nothing.

  Forcing my fingers to loosen, I frowned. “Do you trust me not to go too far? Are you really that stupid?”

  One hand flew to cover mine, but she didn’t tug or try to get me to release her. Her other palm rested on my unshaven cheek, jolting me with a dose of unconditional acceptance, need, want, and everything else that lived between us.

  Shit, I’m lucky. And so unworthy.

  “I promised you I would fight. I’m not stupid enough to relinquish myself into your control completely, Q. But I do trust that I know your limits even more than you do. I trust you…here.”

  She dropped her hand to rest above my heart. It raced and pumped like a demon thing, bucking beneath her touch. “Let yourself feel. Let yourself accept. You’re more human than you want to believe.”

  The softness in her tone enraged me. I didn’t let myself consider the truth; I kissed her instead.

  I captured her mouth like she was the last woman on earth. The only woman for me. My tongue speared through her soft, sweet lips, and I took and took and took. I stole her taste, her breath. I forced her to accept every inch of need from my tongue to hers.

  She moaned, pressing hard against me, dragging more from me until I couldn’t tell where her lips began and mine ended.

  My fingers tightened on their own accord, searching for the sweet surrender, the ultimate control. I kissed her while choking her until her legs wobbled, and I caught her as she buckled completely.

  The knowledge she let me bring her to the point of such weakness made my heart swell until it no longer fit in my ribcage. I didn’t think I’d find anything as satisfying as causing pain, but the complete submission and trust was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

  Releasing her, I scooped up her limp body and carried her across the room. Past the fireplace, away from the chains in the ceiling where I’d strung her up the first time, heading toward the back of the tower.

  Tess blinked, foggy from lack of oxygen. “Where are we going?”

  Gulping a deep breath, completely at the mercy of my throbbing cock and thick desire, I repositioned Tess in my arms to pull at the thick velvet curtain to the left of the massive turret window.

  The dark green material slithered off, landing in a puddle like a melted forest.

  Tess gasped and snuggled closer, gaping at the human-sized cross. Its well-oiled dark wood and bright red leather restraints appeared medieval and terrifying. Apparatus such as these had been used to flay a man alive or strip him limb from limb. It was barbaric. It was horrific. It was delicious.

  Tess would be completely restrained. Completely at my mercy. Completely mine.

  She moaned and shivered, sending shockwaves of need through my limbs. My voice dripped with blackness.

  “It’s time you began your initiation into my world, esclave.”

  I relish the snap, welcome the burn, don’t stop yet it’s still my turn.

  Tighten your grip, make me bleed, this is a hunger I need to feed...

  Two emotions battled within me: uncertainty and excitement. I won the battle I’d been fighting for four days: I made Q give in. But at what cost? I could no longer read his body—he was wound too tightly, bristling with lust. His pale jade eyes unreadable, shuttered against anything but the burn of dominance.

  Staring at the cross, everything slowed to a standstill. Life paused, and I stood in a little bubble of reflection. My initiation into his mysterious world had started, and I teetered on the threshold, wondering if I’d ever see light again.

  My throat ached from where he’d held me. His large hand had crushed my windpipe and the urge to scratch him, fight until he let go had been unbearable. But somehow, I knew Q needed to be taught the most important factor of any relationship. He had to learn that for any sort of love to grow between us, it needed a firm foundation to last. A foundation based on unshakable trust and faith in each other.

  I said I trusted Q. I didn’t. Not yet. And I was damn sure he didn’t trust me. We both fumbled in the dark, trying to figure out the rules of our connection, and until we learned to read and believe in each other, we were doomed.

  My fingertips touched my bruised neck; I winced as I swallowed. The ache was a justified experiment to see just how far Q would go. I’d been one heartbeat from unconsciousness, but he hadn’t pushed me over the edge.

  I allowed my faith in him to evolve just a little.

  Q shifted beside me, watching my fingers stroking my throat. His eyes flashed with shame and remorse before being swallowed by blazing heat and darkness. “I won’t apologise for hurting you. You provoked me. Je ne peux pas me priver si longtemps.” I can only deny myself for so long.

  My body reacted; melting, loosening, preparing to accept his body into mine. Q’s eyes acted as an accelerant to the slow burn in my belly and it spread like a holocaust, turning my insides to ash. “I don’t expect an apology,�
� I whispered.

  “Good.” He cupped my cheek. It would’ve been a tender move, but with Q it still seethed with silent rage.

  I held my ground as Q looped his finger behind my ear, securing a lock of escaped hair. Shivering, I looked into his gaze. Stared deep into the heart of the monster I’d chosen over a sweet boy like Brax.

  Where Brax was the sun, Q was the endless sucking void of space. A black-hole full of mystery and hidden worlds. My eyes skittered to the cross. Am I in for a world of pain? Had Q finally snapped beyond all control?

  The inception into his world meant I had a lot to learn. How brave could I be and how strong was my pain threshold?

  “I’ve been stupid, maître.” My eyes dropped to his lips. They were wet from his tongue, making my mouth water at the thought of kissing him again.

  His hand dropped from my ear, grazing my nipple on the way down. I flinched, and my pussy clenched at the innocuous touch.

  “You have been stupid. Courageously stupid, esclave.”

  I nodded, my breathing shallow as Q dropped his head and kissed my lips whisper-softly. I swooned into him, desperate to sling my arms around his neck and press my breasts against his strength. Some basic part of me, the unthinking but all-sensing part, knew I had to break Q completely before he could embrace the softer side of what we could have.

  He was afraid.

  But afraid of what? Maybe because he’d never had a bond like this before. Maybe he truly believed he was the devil and incapable of true love. But I wouldn’t give up on him.

  Q deepened the kiss, and I moaned. Throwing my arms around his neck, I jerked him closer. He grunted, steadying us on the wooden cross behind me. Then his hands captured my wrists and removed them forcibly from around his neck.

  “You know you’re stupid, and yet you continue to push me. Would you try to stroke a panther when it’s hunting? Non, parce que la mort te trouverait rapidement.” No, because death would find you swiftly. His words were clipped as bullets.

  Images of predators and killing and blood saturated my mind.

  Q was born into darkness, created by circumstances he wouldn’t share with me, but if any one of us was damaged, it was him. I wanted him to no longer fear himself. He no longer had to be alone.