Quintessentially Q Read online

  My feet moved on their own accord. I wanted to pounce on him and tackle him to the ground. Yet Q made no move to finish what he started.

  My eyes darted between his intense gaze and heavy cock.

  Q pointed at the ground by his feet. “Kneel.”

  With a racing heart, I obeyed, folding to the floor as gracefully as I could with ten tonne lust-riddled limbs. The thick carpet welcomed, easing some of the soreness from the cross.

  Q placed a hand on my head before walking slowly behind me. His fingers stayed locked with my hair, tugging it a little. With powerful hands, he gathered the strands. I shivered.

  He captured every wisp and unruly curl, then twisted the thick strands until he made a blonde rope.

  With a jerk, he pulled my head back until my heels jammed into my ass. “I like being able to control you this way, esclave.”

  His mouth descended on mine from above. The upside-down awkwardness added a new dimension to our kiss, and I opened wide to let his tongue possess me. Controlling me with my hair, Q stole my breath, making me squirm.

  My hands clenched into fists on my thighs, and I wanted more than anything to touch myself and come. I couldn’t stand the ache much longer—the unbearable need to explode.

  Withdrawing from the kiss, Q wrapped my hair around my neck. The tickling strands wrapped around my throat made me claustrophobic. Small pops of panic burst in my bloodstream. I didn’t think I could stand to be strangled again.

  Q stalked back to stand in front of me; my eyes fell to his cock. Pre-cum smeared down the underside of his velvety skin. I licked my lips.

  His belly rippled with need and he groaned, taking a step closer. Our eyes burned holes in each other and we didn’t say a word. He stood still, apart from the slight twitch of his hips, the unconscious plea to give him what I desperately wanted.

  I sat higher on my knees, reaching with shaky hands to clasp his hot length. My fingers latched around him, tight and unforgiving.

  His head fell back, and the moan dragged from his throat vibrated in my pussy. If he kept making sounds like that I’d come from the power of his voice alone.

  I stroked him once and his heavy hands landed on my head, exerting a little pressure, giving me a request.

  My mouth watered as I bowed my head. The hair tightened around my throat. The moment my tongue touched his cock, I knew why he’d lassoed my hair around me. My airway was already compromised. Sucking his cock diminished it even more. Breathing thorough my nose didn’t help—every breath became a struggle.

  My nostrils flared in fear, but I opened wide and sucked Q’s girth deep into my mouth. He threaded his fingers into my strands, holding my head prisoner as my tongue lapped from beneath and my lips clamped tight around him.

  He rocked deeper into me, pressing down on my head. “Take it. Fuck.”

  My pussy clenched, and I could’ve cried with how much I wanted his cock deep inside me. Anger and frustration bubbled, and I dared scrape my teeth along his length, testing him, showing him how on edge I was.

  He thrust harder, causing my jaw to lock and teeth to mar such delicate flesh. The thick head of his cock hit the back of my mouth and the urge to gag suffocated me. I tried to take a deep breath, but my hair didn’t allow my lungs to fill.

  Desperation grew and grew until my chest ached and my heart galloped. And yet I kept sucking, kept stroking. Q was in a different dimension, petting my head, taking my mouth with his eyes tightly closed.

  “Your mouth is fucking heaven,” he grunted.

  His cock rippled as I sucked harder, determined to make him truly mean what he said. I wanted him to unravel. I wanted it to be over so I could breathe again.

  Anxiety made me bold. I slid one hand between his legs and cupped his balls.

  He jolted. His hips stopped their searching rock. For a second, I wondered if he’d stop me. Maybe I wasn’t allowed to touch him there, but the second passed, and he relaxed again.

  I squeezed the tender flesh, rolling them in my fingertips. He twitched, and his muscular thighs quivered.

  Looking up, I imprinted how he looked in that moment. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth in a grimace. He looked like an evil demigod. A living relic of sinful sex.

  Opening wider, I slid him in and out, licking and laving while I cupped his balls harder. I wanted him to come. I wanted to steal the fine edge of his control and make him lose it.

  I’m going to drive you wild, Q Mercer.

  Growing braver, I darted my hand further between his legs. He stilled, but I didn’t give him an opportunity to decide if he liked it. With two fingers facing upward, I pressed hard on the ridge of skin between his balls and asshole.

  He jerked as I found the thicker node of skin, the small walnut-sized erogenous zone also known as the male g-spot.

  I pressed it again, sucking his cock deep into my mouth.

  Q gasped and wrenched back, but I went with him. I kept my lips glued around him and my hand firmly between his legs.

  I suffered black spots in my vision as my hair slowly asphyxiated me, but I kept a rhythm: suck, press, suck, press—a thrusting motion between his legs, my touch firm and unyielding.

  Q let out a loud groan. “Merde. Stop!”

  I didn’t stop.

  I added teeth to my suction. I flexed my fingers, ignoring everything else but getting Q to lose control.

  “Fuck fuck fuck.” It was a match to a cannon, a lost pin to a grenade. Q lost it. “Fuck me, esclave. Merde.”

  His fingers gripped my head, holding me hostage as his hips thrust violently into my mouth. I never let up on the pressure between his legs, coaxing his g-spot, pinching the vein feeding his balls with blood.

  “Tu vas me tuer. C’est tellement bon. Mon Dieu.” You're going to kill me. It feels too good. My God.

  My mouth leaked saliva, unable to do anything but accept Q’s motion. My neck grew wet as I dribbled and my arm erupted into fire from keeping the pressure.

  Q grunted like a feral animal. His throat rattled with curses, his body vibrated with aggression, and the entire room filled with the thick scent of sex.

  I teetered on the brink of passing out, my body numb and weak. Q groaned from the tips of his toes. His belly stiffened, his legs froze, and his g-spot surged.

  Then he came.

  “Fuck…” he snarled, spurting down the back of my throat, cascading warm and salty on my tongue. Wave after wave I swallowed, and still he kept coming. I choked and he pulled out, fisting himself.

  With angry strokes, he milked the last of his orgasm, panting as he kept spurting, dousing me in white sticky droplets all over my breasts.

  The picture of Q towering over me, his face furious and red while eyes blazed with his release, was a sight to behold. I wanted to capture the moment, sear it on my brain, remember the ink of his tattoo, the musky taste of him in my mouth, and the knowledge I drove him to break.

  With shaking hands, I unravelled my hair from around my throat, and removed as much spit as I could.

  My entire mouth ached, and my pussy felt wronged—slighted for not being fucked and given the same sort of release Q experienced.

  Taking gulping breaths, Q smeared a droplet of warm come over my nipple.

  Instantly the orgasm blazed alive again, sparking, begging, setting my teeth on edge. Please put me out of my misery.

  Never taking his eyes off mine, Q reached under my arms and helped me stand on unsteady legs. His face shut down, unreadable.

  “Do you need me, Tess?”

  I jolted with the power and ragged sex appeal in his voice. My eyes fluttered, needing to close; I was drunk on the need to come.

  I nodded fretfully.

  He ducked, so we were almost eye level. “Do you need my tongue on your cunt to come?”

  My eyes snapped shut, battered by the image of Q licking me, biting me, making me unravel. “Yes,” I moaned.

  His fingers caressed my other breast, giving it the same treatment as the first.
“Will you walk around in constant agony if I don’t fuck you?” His thumb and forefinger pinched my nipple, sending waves of need through my belly to my core.

  Anger rose again. What the hell was he playing at? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. “You know I will.”

  He grabbed my breast hard, making me groan and shudder. I swayed toward him, trying to touch his still hard cock. If only he’d let me use it. He wouldn’t have to do anything. I could ride him to satisfaction.

  But his voice was a whiplash. “Don’t touch me.”

  Shock wrenched my eyes wide; my skin flushed with embarrassment and hurt. I looked deep into his gaze, searching for the reason of his denial.

  He shook his head. “You broke a cardinal rule. You disobeyed me.” His back was ramrod straight, shoulders tight and tense. “You took away my control, esclave, and that’s something you just don’t do. Making me lose it is the worst kind of disobedience. You rushed me. You took what wasn’t yours to have.” His tone shimmered with warning. “I told you I wouldn’t be responsible if you didn’t do as I said.”

  I gulped. I couldn’t handle another session on the cross, not unless I came first. My mind was scrambled. I needed to relax, unwind, and save my sanity.

  He ran a thumb over my bottom lip, trembling with control. “Your punishment isn’t whips or chains or any other torture you seem to enjoy.”

  I couldn’t stand it. I had to know. “What do you intend to do?”

  Q smiled. He was two sides of a coin—one moment remorseful, the next revengeful. “I intend to do nothing.” Pressing his hand between my legs, he speared two fingers deep.

  My forehead crashed against his chest as I buckled in his arms. My hips moved on his hand, my breathing quickened as my orgasm built super-sonically fast.

  Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean. I stood wobbling, a throbbing mass of nerve endings.

  “If you pleasure yourself, I will know. If you come before I say you will, I’ll deny you pleasure for a month. You’re to stay on edge until I give you permission.” He bent to kiss my cheek so tenderly. “Only then will I fuck you like you want to be fucked. Only then will I let you scream my name.”

  The sentence was torture. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I reached to grab Q’s hand. “Please.” I shook my head. “Q, please. I’ll do anything you want.”

  He smiled softly, running his fingers through my hair, fanning it out like a blonde curtain over my shoulders. “Don’t do it again, Tess, that’s what I want from you.”

  “I promise. Cross my heart. Never.” I tried to capture his cock, but he sidestepped me, heading toward the bathroom. “Remember you brought this on yourself. Get dressed. We’re late.”

  Surprise made my voice squeak. “Late for what?”

  Q chuckled before disappearing into the bathroom. “We’re going to work. I told you I wanted you to work with me. Today is that day.”

  You’re my obsession, I’m your possession,

  you own the deepest part of me…

  I ran.

  I ran away like a fucking girl. My body felt foreign—thick, sated, but angst ridden and ferocious. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to scream at Tess for what she did. I wanted to attack anyone stupid enough to come within grabbing distance. I had to get the hell out of there.

  She forced me.

  She made me lose control.

  I never lost control.

  Slamming the bathroom door, I stalked to the black twin-sink vanity and put my hands on either side of a basin. Bowing over, I sucked in ragged breaths, trying to calm the rapid tempo of my heart.

  My cock still seeped even after blowing two loads in one. I almost drowned her when I exploded down her throat. It wasn’t satisfied. I wasn’t satisfied. I was a lot of things, but satisfied didn’t come fucking close.

  The instant I thought about her touch, her fingers pressing so hard between my fucking legs, my stomach trembled and my cock—the bastard—grew thick and heavy.

  Never before had a woman stolen what was singularly mine. Never before had someone made me come before I was ready. They knew better than to be so bold.

  Tess knew better, yet she didn’t give me a choice.

  My eyes squeezed shut, and all I could see was a replay.

  Her hair was spun gold between my fingers as I guided her mouth over my cock. Her warm, wet lips sealed around me, my back tinged with fireworks, and my balls tightened painfully.

  The rope of hair strangled her little by little and I waited for her to gag and pull away; to glare at me with accusing blue eyes and refuse to pleasure me.

  But she didn’t.

  She leaned further, strangling faster. Her mouth filled with delicious lubrication and she added the sharp thrill of teeth.

  Everything she did was perfect, and my orgasm started slow and promising. Then she ruined it by shoving her hand behind my balls and finding that fucking spot that turned me to mush.

  I flinched when her hand went where no one had touched before. Her fingertips pressed up, rubbing me directly into torment.

  My orgasm shifted gears from slow to ultrasonic. Merde, it felt amazing. Beyond amazing—body-shattering, mind-blazing, backbreaking.

  I jerked away, digging my toes into the carpet, trying to hold off the release, but she moved with me. She didn’t let me go. Her goddamn hand stayed pulsing, rocking, and her mouth became the perfect vessel to unload into.

  My thoughts turned into one long stream of curses as I battled two conflicting emotions.

  Lust.

  Terror.

  Lust because she drove me fucking insane. I forgot who I was. I forgot why I had to stay in control. I forgot everything but grabbing her head and making her swallow my come.

  Terror because the walls between me and the beast were obliterated. Extinguished by a fragile girl bent between my legs. No one was safe when that happened.

  I opened my eyes, glowering at myself in the mirror. You’re a bastard, Mercer.

  I should head right back into the bedroom and order Tess to spread her sexy little legs and plunge deep inside her. She’d almost cried when I denied her. It was a cunt move to let her stay on the edge after she gave me the best orgasm of my life, but I was pissed. Beyond pissed. Confused.

  My fingers clawed the marble countertop, and I fought the other emotion I tried hard not to acknowledge.

  Resentment.

  Resentment toward Tess, but mainly toward myself. I couldn’t stop it. All my life, I prided myself on having ultimate control over my body, over my thoughts and needs. But in one move, Tess shredded those conceptions, annihilated my prized restraint, and turned me into a fucking Neanderthal.

  She stole my control and instead of fighting it, I relinquished myself into her touch, allowed her to spell me, trap me; allowed my body to rule my mind.

  How could I ever trust myself again?

  I sighed, turning around to enter the black marble shower. The surfaces were so highly polished my reflection stared back at me.

  Haunted.

  My eyes were haunted, and the truth of why I was so angry shone bright. Tess drew more than just come from me, she took an element of dominance, and if I was honest, I hated it.

  Wrenching on the shower, I flinched as cold droplets turned instantly hot. The pinpricks of heat helped leech away my rolling emotions, and I grabbed the soap to lather on my chest.

  Memories of taking Tess in the shower the very first time sprang to mind as I dropped my hands to spread bubbles onto my cock. She’d been so hurt and mentally ruined from the rape. But I liked to think my untraditional way of replacing the memory with myself helped remove the pain and shock from her eyes.

  Water sluiced away the remainder of Tess’s spit, and I groaned when I squeezed a tad too hard.

  Gritting my teeth, I stroked again. Angry, violent strokes—taking punishment out on the part of my body that failed to obey.

  I wanted more. I wanted to drive deep inside her and make her promise never to make m
e feel so controlled again. She made me feel…weak. Not the man I knew. It made me soft, and I’d never had a soft moment in my life.

  My hand worked harder, gripping too tight until the head of my cock throbbed. Spreading my legs, I settled in for a quick release, but I paused.

  This wasn’t fair. Why should I get to come again, when Tess is probably living a nightmare right now?

  It took discipline and a tight jaw, but I uncurled my fist and let my cock free. My muscles bunched tight, and no matter how long I stayed in the shower, I couldn’t relax.

  *****

  Twenty minutes later, I strode from my bedroom dressed in a dark grey suit. The sombre colour reflected my mood perfectly: tense, horny, and entirely fucked up over a woman who had me by the balls. Literally.

  Stalking through my home, I found Tess in the carousel room where I’d put her after the horrible incident with Lefebvre. The clothes I’d bought her remained down here. We hadn’t made the move to relocate her to my bedroom. That final step toward admitting our lives were merging together hadn’t been taken yet, and I didn’t know if I was thankful or annoyed.

  Tess sat on the end of the bed, rolling pantyhose over her smooth skin, snapping it into place with a lacy garter belt peeking from beneath a tight skirt. She’d gathered it around her hips, so it looked more like a belt, and fuck, I wanted to rip it off her.

  Tess was right about me enjoying ripping her clothes. It was a symbol. A way to tear and destroy without killing her.

  She looked up and jumped straight to her feet, holding her chest. The perfectly cut blazer hugged her curves while the flimsy cream shirt underneath showed shadows of skin and bra.

  My mouth watered; I swallowed hard against the urge to throw her over my shoulder and cart her back upstairs. Screw punishing her. It was fucking punishing me, too, and I’d had enough for one morning.

  “Q. Crap, you scared the bejesus out of me.” She rolled her shoulders, shedding the shock in her eyes, replacing it with interest and attraction. “I’ll never get used to you moving so silently. You’re like a freaking ghost.”

  I gave a rueful smile. “My silence comes in handy when I want to be unheard.” I stepped toward her, already sporting a rock-hard erection. “I like watching you while you think you’re alone.”