Chapter 2

Tess

~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 apologize 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.

With my wrists cuffed in his fingers, I said, “Do you want to know what I thought when I returned to you? The promise I made to myself?”

Q froze, nostrils flaring.

I took his silence as approval and continued, “I said I’d fight for you. That you deserved to be fought for.

“I didn’t know then, and I still don’t know what I need to finally get through to you—” I leaned forward, trying to get close enough to kiss him. He stiffened and his hold gave no room for movement.

“—but I’ll never stop. I was right. You’re worth every fight. Every argument and bump in the road. I’ll fight because I’m falling for you, Q.”

How could I not fall for this man? This complex, emotionally tangled man. The saver of slaves and property tycoon. Q was all my nightmares, fantasies, and needs rolled into one bestial package.

He was my drug of choice and I’d been craving him for four long days.

“Don’t fall for me.” He grabbed my shoulders. His touch was hot and his fingertips branded me with force. “I can’t be responsible for that.”

My heart beat too fast as I breathed in his scent of sandalwood and citrus. His body was so close, it befuddled me with lust and toe-curling need.

“Be responsible for what?” I took a risk, ducking my head to kiss him on his forearm. The corded muscle leapt beneath my lips, and he let go as if I’d bitten him.

“I’m sure to break other parts of you, but I don’t want the curse of breaking your heart.”

“You can’t break something that is freely given.” A small part of me wanted him to say he’d treasure it, guard it, and nurture it forever, but that softness wasn’t there yet.

He struggled every day with my demands and expectations. I knew he did. I saw it in his eyes, the way he watched me with a mixture of awe and annoyance, even a touch of fear.

One moment he’d answer my seemingly harmless question, the next he’d shut me out as easily as a storm cloud swallows the moon.

Every day I kept prying, kept prodding. Being a pest and a nuisance, waiting for the day when his self-control snapped and tore me into pieces.

“Enough,” Q roared. His chest strained as he pushed me hard against the cross. My back crashed against the eerily warm wood.

I flinched as Q pressed his long frame against mine, sandwiching me completely. “Now is not the time to talk about hearts and falling,~esclave~. Now is the time for pain and fucking.

“See how the two don’t mix?”

He pushed off, swiping his face with an angry palm. “I’m tired. Too tired to keep fighting. I want you. I’ve wanted to make you scream for four fucking long days. I tried to behave.

“I tried to stop the darkness, but you just wouldn’t let it go. And now it’s my turn. You’re going to give me what I want. Take this obsessive sick need from me and help grant me a reprieve.”

Something black gleamed over the pale green of Q’s eyes. Something I’d only seen flickers of. Something that terrified as much as enthralled me.

“Not another word, or I’ll use the ball gag. I only want moans and my name on your lips when I come deep inside you.

“Understand?” He breathed hard, and the tip of his cock nudged at the waistband of his boxer-briefs, excessively hard and calling to me like an addiction.

I’d never felt more alive or more frightened.

“I understand,~maître~,” I whispered.

My voice was the starting gun. Q gritted his teeth, visibly shuddering. All along he’d been searching for my permission—whether he knew it or not.

He shed the angry tension and relaxed, transforming into a composed master.

I waited for him to buckle the myriad of straps around me, but he paused.

Waited and watched.

Breathed and deliberated.

Then he lurched forward; his mouth crushed mine. My neck protested from where he’d strangled me and I couldn’t breathe as his tongue darted past the seam of my lips and took. My God, he fucking took.

He demanded and cajoled with every twist of his tongue. Every lick and sweep.

The kiss held fury and promises. His lips spoke how much he already cared for me, all the while trying to eat me alive.

With unrestrained hands, I let myself do what I’d wanted for so long. I allowed myself to touch him. My arms flew up and my fingers swept through his thick, short hair.

He moaned as I dug my nails deep, remembering his migraine and how he let me massage him back to health. How, by letting me tend to him, my emotions blossomed and grew.

I’d been a slave—a possession—then. Now, I belonged. I was truly his, but only because I chose it.

I’d found where I belonged. I was done fighting my desires. Q was everything I wanted and more.

Running my hands down his scalp, I captured the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His taut body landed on mine with a heavy lurch, pressing me hard against the cross.

His mouth bruised mine as our lips melded and clashed against each other.

Spearing my tongue with his, I battled his taste until we were both heaving and clawing at each other. I lost sense of how hard I scratched his neck and shoulders.

I lost sensation of how hard his fingers dug into my hips. Nothing existed but our kiss.

Sharp, sweet pain made me gasp. My eyes watered as Q pulled back, licking his lips free from a small trace of accusing red.

“You bit me,” I panted.

I opened my mouth and ran a fingertip over my already swelling tongue. Metallic blood pooled just a little; I swallowed.

He stared at me unrepentant, eyes glassy with lust. “I couldn’t stop it. I had to taste you.” His throat rippled as he swallowed, taking some part of me deep into him.

My thoughts raced. Even though Q was so hard to read, I began to see his true depth of need. His need for scars and blood and primal connection. He wasn’t faking it.

It wasn’t about the kink or whipping. It was purely about opening me up, cracking open my very existence, and possessing me.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it scared me. I liked pain. I loved the taboo line of pleasure in accepting a whip’s kiss or a flogger’s smack—subservient entirely to my master’s whim.

But I wasn’t ready to die.

~Will Q ever be satisfied?~ My heart sank, plummeted right to my toes.

Panic rose in my throat, forming into an uncomfortable knot. “Will I ever be enough? Will I ever be able to give you what you crave?”

Q jolted upright, his entire body jerking to a rigid halt. It wasn’t until he took a fumbling step back I realized I’d spoken aloud.

~Oh, shit.~

My eyes flew to Q’s blazing jade ones, and my heart died a little more. ~Tess, you idiot.~

Rushing forward, I grabbed his arm and squeezed hard muscle. “I didn’t mean that. I know this is all so new. It’s strange…for both of us.”

Q looked at me as if I were an alien species. His eyes went blank, face contorted with confusion and regret.

I cupped his cheek, desperate to have him come back to me. I could almost follow his thoughts. See the blood splatter, the hatred for himself.

When he didn’t react to my soft touch, I tried hard instead. I slapped him.

The noise of flesh against flesh snapped him out of his zombified state. He blinked, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly. A few seconds passed while he gathered himself together.

Finally, he scowled. All the fire and lust from before blazed in his gaze.

“I told you not to speak unless it was screaming my name.”

His body rippled as he allowed his demons to come fully into the light. “And banish those thoughts from your head, ~esclave.~ No matter what I say, you are enough. Too much.

~“Trop pure et parfaite pour un homme comme moi.”~ Too pure and perfect for a man like me.

He rolled his shoulders, growling, “But it won’t stop me from trying to ruin you.”

My legs trembled, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than a simple hug. I wanted him to be soft and sweet, touch me and comfort me.

He said I was enough, but I wasn’t so sure, and the insecurity made me desolate.

Q didn’t give me time to wallow. He slammed against me, pushing backward with the strength of a brick wall. My back connected with the cross and oxygen fled my lungs.

Q dropped his head and his lips latched onto my neck.

“Q—” My voice was breathy, a plea for something. Something I doubted I would ever receive.

His mouth sucked hard on my skin, bruising the delicate flesh. I shivered in his arms as he licked along my collarbone. His hands roamed over my hips, up my ribcage to find my breasts.

With an angry hold, he took the weight, pinching my nipples hard as his teeth whispered across my neck.

“Ah!” I jolted as a sharp slice burned my throat.

My mouth hung open as he lapped and groaned. “You taste so good. Not your skin, or sweat, or perfume. The very depth of you. Your life-force.

“Your blood.” He licked again before soothing my nipples with his thumbs. “Does that disgust you? Does it horrify you that I need this to feel connected? That this is a part of being loved by me?”

His tone hinted that he expected me to say yes. Even now, even though I gave him promises and slept beside him while he suffered nightmares of doing untold things to me, he still expected me to leave.

I just hoped to God I was strong enough to keep my promises.

“No. I understand who you are and what you need. I didn’t—”

Q bit me particularly hard, drawing more blood. His throat contracted as he swallowed and when he went to pull away, I hugged his head to me, forcing his lips against the bite.

Goosebumps sprang over my skin as his hot breath charred me into cinders. “Drink me if that’s what you need. Fuck me if it will help you believe. ~Je suis à toi.~ I’m yours.

He groaned, thrusting his hips against mine; the hardness of his cock, trapped in his boxer-briefs, speared against my belly button.

My heart twisted as my core melted. My mind spiralled into the darkness Q was so good at conjuring. I didn’t care it was socially wrong to share blood.

I didn’t care that societies protecting women would be horrified with what I let Q do to me.

The world didn’t matter. This was us. This was our fuckedupness learning how to live without guilt and shame.

Q nibbled his way up my neck, along my jaw, to my lips. When he kissed me, he didn’t hold back.

His tongue swept deep, bringing with it the metallic taste of rust and a need so basic it threatened to steal my thoughts, unlearn everything I knew, and embrace a life of existing purely to be with Q.

His hands dropped to caress my body. Squeezing my hips once, he captured my right wrist and fanned my arm out, all the while fucking my mouth with his sinful tongue.

He pulled away when the back of my hand touched wood. His eyes were bright and pupils dilated. “Everything about you is mine. Do you deny it?”

Breathing hard, battling the urge to rub my pussy against his leg between my thighs, I shook my head. “I don’t deny it.”

With a sharp nod, Q reached over me to wrap a soft leather cuff around my wrist. With a fierce expression, he tightened it until I felt a faint heartbeat in my fingertips.

A sharp burst of panic rose from nowhere, gripping my heart, making it flurry.

Q froze, staring at me unguarded. The lust sheening his face caused more wetness to trickle. I couldn’t run and the knowledge turned my body on beyond compare.

“You’re frightened.” His voice was so gruff, I barely understood him.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but why would I hide the truth? Q lived for the truth, he fought for authentic fear.

“You tied it so tight. I’m afraid I’ll never be free.”

He chuckled. “And you think you’re free when you’re not restrained?

“You don’t know me at all, ~esclave.~” Capturing my left arm, he repeated the process until miniature beating hearts thrummed in my fingers. “You’ll never be free of me. I’ll never be free of you.

“It’s fate who decides, and fate gave us each other.”

Memories of our blood oath sprung to mind. ~“Nous sommes les uns des autres.”~ We are each other’s.

He sucked in a breath; his face danced with shadows caused by early morning clouds. The sun dappled the room in spotlights of warmth, but not this corner. In this corner only shade was permitted.

~“Oui.”~ He bent to kiss me, but I kept my eyes wide open. Focusing on his sculptured cheekbones and how achingly lonely his gaze appeared.

We never looked away as his lips worked mine, soft but dangerous at the same time. His tongue skirted the fine line of unbreakable discipline and uncontrollable passion.

His large hands cupped my face, holding me still as he bent his head to angle the kiss deeper.

The back of my head hit the wooden cross, and I moaned as he pressed his entire muscular body against mine. His naked skin heated my own, feverish, hot as the devil.

Pulling away, Q breathed hard, sending his sparrow tattoo fluttering like crazy.

The rolling black clouds and barbwire seemed to be particularly violent, devouring more birds, erupting more feathers, spiralling in their bid for freedom. Q expected me to fly away.

I needed to find a way to prove I wasn’t going to.

A flash of inspiration hit, and I murmured, “You’re my wings. You made me fly.”

He froze, hands unmoving on my cheeks. His pale eyes seared into my soul.

Q wasn’t just my master in the bedroom. He was the master of my heart.

Finally, he whispered in his deep, accented voice, “You stole my loneliness. I may have given you wings, but you've become my gravity. I’ll never be free of your force.”

I melted. If my arms hadn’t been imprisoned by the cross, I would’ve thrown them around Q and climbed his body.

I would’ve freed his straining erection from his boxer-briefs and pushed myself on top of him. I needed connection. I needed to bind us. Entwine us. Imprint and devour us.

Q seemed to feel the same way. His eyes morphed from deep and smoldering to bright and glittering. His composure tightened from tense to coiled.

A predator, a wolf, a killer about to indulge in his prey. “No more talking, Tess.”

I shivered with the way he said my name. It held every inch of emotion that he couldn’t verbalize.

Q dropped to his knees, thudding against the thick white carpet. He tugged my left leg to line up with the cross and its buckle in one sharp move.

I stumbled, relying on the cuffs around my wrists to grant me balance.

As his fingers worked around my ankle, sending spasms of intense awareness up my inner thigh, Q murmured, “One day, I’ll break you completely. One day, I’ll be strong enough.”

The thrill of his confession shot like an arrow through my heart. I wanted with all my soul to tell him I hoped to God he did, but I didn’t think he meant it like that.

He didn’t want to break me until I was ruined—he wanted to own me completely. The difference was I didn’t think Q knew what he meant.

Or, maybe he did, and I was a stupid little girl. Nevertheless, I fell back into unwilling slave—the role that turned my master and me crazy.

The role that guaranteed explosive sex, battle of wills, and deep satisfaction.

Gathering a deep breath, I hissed, “No. You’ll never break me.”

Q snapped.

The barrier dropped once and for all. With brutal fingers, he spread my other leg and secured me tightly against the warm wood. Gone were the soft caresses. This was pure animalistic control.

He stood in one quick move, grabbing the two pieces of leather hanging on either side of my hips.

Jerking them across my belly, he tightened them. He didn’t say a word, but we glared and dared and warred with our eyes.

The room crackled with pent-up frustration, unkept promises, and a slight undercurrent of fear. Whose fear I didn’t know, but it added to the thick cloud of emotion engulfing us.

Q leaned forward, reaching behind my neck. Securing the last remaining strap, he looked deep into my eyes. “You’re going to be the death of both of us.”

True undiluted fear raced through my blood. The tightness of the strap across my throat signified complete submission. Something I never really gave, even though I let Q dominate me.

I may be a masochist, but I wasn’t a submissive, and that’s why Q needed me.

Once the strap was tight across my throat, and I was truly immobile, Q dragged his finger from the tip of my nose, down my lips, over my throat and breasts, dipping past my ribs and belly right to my pussy.

He stroked my clit, once, twice, before moving lower.

I trembled with every millimeter he touched. The need to have him took over every thought.

His eyes tightened as his finger dipped inside me ever so slowly.

My jaw went slack and I moaned at the leisurely possession. His finger felt like pure ecstasy. I shuddered around his touch, sucking him deeper, my body begging for more.

Q growled, pressing harder until his knuckles connected against my core. “Fuck, you’re wet. Every time, ~esclave~. Every time, you’re ready for me.” His voice held awed pleasure.

My hips tried to work, to entice him further, but the straps became the perfect prison.

He pressed deeper; I groaned as he curved his finger to stroke my g-spot. “You lied. You said I couldn’t break you. And yet, here I am breaking you, bit by bit. And you fucking love it.

“Your body screams the truth. When will you admit it?”

I bared my teeth, my body was a molten volcano, every blood cell erupting. “Never.”

He chuckled. The dark sound echoed in my ears, down my neck and spine.

“Never is a long time.” Easing out of me, he quickly inserted two fingers, stretching me wide, coaxing my body to accept him, regardless of the sudden intrusion.

My head fell forward, and all I wanted to do was surrender. To let Q do whatever he wanted to me; to bask in the onslaught of sensations. But for Q to let go, I had to pretend.

Pretend he scared, hurt, and horrified me. I didn’t want to think how that troubled me—how I didn’t understand why Q needed it that way.

For once, I didn’t like the role play. I wanted him to know how much I needed this part of him, to let him know it was okay with me. More than okay—I lived for it.

I wanted to scream for him to hit me, fuck me, debase me, but I couldn’t because permission wasn’t what he sought. It was the hunt, the chase, the crime of causing agony.

Q took a step back. My thoughts screeched to a halt as he paced away, heading toward the mirrored chest.

He took his sweet time choosing from the scattered remains on the carpet. I craned my neck, trying to see, but the strap around my waist and throat pinned me in place.

Finally, he stalked back, looking chiseled and determined in his black boxer-briefs. His hands stayed behind his back, obstructing whatever torture equipment he planned to use.

“As much as I want to scar you, etch my name into your belly so you’ll always know who you belong to, I’m not ready.

“When I break your virgin skin, I won’t stop, and I don’t want to live with yet another addiction.” His eyes flared as if he hadn’t meant to confide those thoughts.

His face darkened as he cleared his throat. “I’m giving you a choice. Sharp pain or radiating pain.”

I blinked, trying to figure out the riddle of what toys Q had behind his back.

When I didn’t answer, he growled, “An answer, ~esclave~, or I’ll use both. Believe me, I want to use everything on you all at once, but I’m not a murderer.” He lowered his voice.

“Well, not a murderer of women at least.”

The image of Q shooting a man in cold blood slammed into my head—the night he found me, being raped and defiled by Driver and Brute.

I hung my head, voluntarily choking myself on the strap, trying to forget.

~“Was that a beg, treasure? You want me?”

“I think she’s asking you to fuck her. Better give her what she wants.”~

My body went numb at the memory of being taken by force. The pain, the sounds of him rutting like a fucking beast inside me.

~Make it stop. Make it stop!~

“Fuck.” Q closed the distance between us in a split second and captured my chin.

“I’d kill him a thousand times over for what he did, but I refuse to let you think about him.” Q kissed both of my eyelids, murmuring, “You promised you’d only think of our night together.

“Purge that fucking bastard from your mind. Or I’ll whip it out of you.”

Q’s odd mixture of sweet and harsh halted the memory and shoved the rape out of my mind, but I couldn’t rid myself of the metallic taste of Driver’s fingers in my mouth.

I needed Q to whip me; to force me to obey and burn the memories to dust.

“Hurt me, ~maître~. Make it disappear. I want sharp pain. I want you to slice the evil free.” My breath caught, and my body shook with the beginnings of real fear.

I offered myself to Q to help free me once and for all, but I also permitted him to truly hurt me. He wouldn’t hold back—not now.

The wetness between my legs increased, and my teeth chattered as Q sucked in a breath, dropping one of the items in his hands.

It slithered against the carpet, lying like a dormant snake; any moment it would raise its head and strike with deadly fangs.

Q held up his other arm, showing me what he intended to use. My heart rate exploded.

In his palm lay a cat-o’-nine-tails. The intricate whip handle exploded from one thick cylinder into nine pieces of lethal leather. Each strand was woven with tiny silver beads along the length.

Adrenaline washed over me. My skin flushed, and I wiggled in the bindings. It looked painful. It looked cruel.

It looked like it would pulverize my thoughts and turn my body into a crisscrossed canvas of agony.

I tried to stay calm, tried to keep my heart from galloping out of control, but shit, I couldn’t. The whip was too dangerous.

My eyes flew to his. “No. I can’t. It’s too much.”

Fear swarmed thick and fast as Q smiled thinly, shaking his head. “If this is what it takes to eliminate that cocksucker from your brain, so be it.” He stepped away a little, letting the whip dangle.

“Q—please. I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never be ready for this, ~esclave~. I know that, and I hate myself for what I’m about to do, but I’m not going to stop.” He hung his head, watching me from shadowed eyes.

“So help me, I want to whip you. Cry for me, Tess.”

He struck.

The multiple-beaded whip whistled through the air and licked my naked belly. Each silver bead dug deep into my flesh, singeing me with pain.

I cried out, jolting in the straps with the heat of the first lash.

Q groaned, his entire body vibrating, eyes locked on the blush of red already blooming on my stomach. His lips parted as his nostrils flared, almost as if he could truly taste my pain and fear.

“Don’t hate me for what I need,” he implored, just before he struck again. The bunch of muscles as he swung set his tattoo fluttering with shadows.

The whip kissed me brutally while the little beads bit with tiny fangs. The first tang of tears burned.

Through my glassy eyes, Q danced and quivered; my vision turned wonky from adrenaline. I panicked and hated I couldn’t move. This wasn’t fun or sexy or erotic.

I was a prisoner with a monster who was my master. A man who didn’t trust his own self-control.

A single tear cascaded down my cheek, and Q’s chest rose with intensity. “I want more than one, Tess.” He came forward and kissed below each eye, whispering, ~“J’aime te marquer.”~ I love marking you.

I shook my head, past being able to talk. Too fucked up with too many emotions. Somehow he turned this against me. I wanted this.

I knew that, but Q had blocked me out, embraced his wickedness, leaving me behind.

I was a stupid girl for thinking I could take Q on. To try and love this man who had so many issues. What made me strong enough to be what he needed?

Q took a step backward, and I squeezed my eyes. I didn’t want to watch him bristle with lust when he hit me. I didn’t want to witness the way his perfect body flexed as he swung.

I didn’t want any part of this.

Waiting in the dark was an eternity of torture, but Q didn’t strike. I waited and waited, but no whip’s kiss or bead’s bite touched me.

I hesitated opening my eyes, then my mouth popped wide as a soul-wrenching moan erupted from my lips.

Q had knelt between my spread and bound legs. His mouth latched onto my swollen pussy, and he licked as if he’d die if he didn’t drink all of me.

Oh, ~God.~

His teeth found my clit, and he bit gently. No part of my body existed except that tiny, sensitive nub.

Q gripped my ass, pulling my pussy harder against his mouth. His tongue speared inside me and I screamed. “Q. Fuck. Please. Yes.”

He groaned as my body wept. Moisture trickled down my thigh, mixing with Q’s saliva. Holding me captive with one hand, he pushed three fingers deep inside.

I screamed in bliss as he rocked his hand. His mouth centered on my clit as his fingers drove me into a frenzy.

My knees trembled, and I wished I could fall—fall onto his mouth, impale myself onto his cock. His fingers were heaven but his cock would be delirium.

A sharp band of an orgasm built in my lower spine, radiating through my belly to grip around Q’s fingers.

Instantly, he stopped and stood in one sharp move. I gawked and panted and cursed. My body quaked with the need to come; the need to come apart and surrender.

Q raised his arm, and the whip licked my lower belly. The nine pieces of leather coaxed red to shadow and pain to flourish.

I tried to bend over, to protect my innocent stomach, but the cross held me inert.

Q hit me again, this one higher, just below my breasts. My ribcage bellowed as the tiny beads bruised my flesh.

Again he swung. And again.

The cat-o’-nine-tails rained. It felt like Q delivered a thunderstorm: the thunder of his pleasure, my swirling feelings a blistering squall, and nine sparks of lightning all delivered at once.

I transcended. My body entered a realm of insane sensitivity and I welcomed the whip. The pain morphed into unbearable pleasure until I reverberated with all-encompassing want.

My thoughts swirled with bright lights and my body wailed for release.

By the tenth strike, I arched my back, pushing my breasts out, welcoming the gluttony of punishment.

Q’s breathing rasped, and our eyes never left each other’s. He looked wild and untamed and completely diabolical.

Half of me hated him for dragging me over the point of pain and turning me into a monster like him, but the other adored and worshipped him.

No sex between us would ever be easy and completely consenting.

With our gazes locked, Q struck wide. My thigh howled as the strips of leather flayed me.

“What do you want from me? Why do you let me break you?” he panted, his chest straining with exertion.

My heart flurried; I wondered if I dare speak the truth. Tell him what I hoped he’d become. The future I dared envision.

He struck me across my belly, just above the lattice of red from a previous strike. I winced and suffered a wave of pleasure that almost made me come from no other stimulation.

“Speak,~esclave~. For every second you fail, I’ll hit you.”

I gaped, scrambling for the right words.

I cried out as, true to his word, he hit me again on my left thigh. Branding me with nine matching red stripes and blemishes from the beads.

“I want you to hurt me, but I also want you to care for me,” I exploded, vibrating with the need to come. It echoed in my teeth, it danced in the pain of the marks.

Every inch of me was strung out and on edge.

He paused, relaxing his stance to run the cat-o’-nine-tails through his hands like one would with a pet. “I do care for you. Too damn much. You’ve turned me inside out and changed my entire world.”

Everything crunched to a halt. I never expected him to be so honest. Maybe he dropped his walls when he cast away the barriers to his demons.

We didn’t move as if terrified we’d break the moment. Our souls were stripped bare and free for the briefest of moments.

Q’s pale eyes darkened, hiding his vulnerability. He ran the whip through his strong fingers once again.

I trembled in the bindings waiting for the next strike, dreading it, wanting it, ~craving~ it.

~“Jusqu'où tu me laisserais aller?”~ How far would you let me go? He murmured so low, I barely heard him.

My heart stopped beating, and I came up blank. I couldn’t answer his question.

I didn’t know my boundaries; I didn’t want to put limits on learning how to coexist, and I definitely didn’t want to show the depth of fear I had that Q would eventually go too far and kill me.

Q’s eyes met mine. He let the hand holding the whip fall to his side. He rolled his shoulders, and my skin sprinkled with goosebumps. The air crackled with sudden energy.

Q bowed his head, staring at me from under his darkened brow. “I understand why you won’t respond, ~esclave~. I don’t have an answer either.”

I gulped as he took one step closer, obliterating the small distance between us, bringing his heat and proximity to scald my skin.

His free hand cupped my throat over the strap while his hips pressed against mine hard and quick. “You didn’t struggle when I cut off your oxygen before. Why?”

I shook my head, trying to pry free, but his fingers stiffened, holding me just as firmly as the leather across my limbs. Q breathed hard, never looking away from my eyes.

The pale green faded as his pupils dilated in pleasure. “You let me decide how far to go,” he whispered, amazement in his tone.

His fingers tightened around my neck, hurting the already bruised column of muscle. My heart raced and bucked as more adrenaline exploded fast and swift, arcing in my blood.

But I refused to beg to be released or for Q to be careful. This was a battle he had to win with himself.

Every shallow breath was a hardship as Q slowly cut off my air supply. When I grew lightheaded, Q licked his lips and bent to kiss me.

The rough dominance of his fingers didn’t match the soft, sensual kiss he bestowed.

He didn’t kiss me. He worshiped me.

Every whisper of his tongue paid homage. Every hitch of his breathing sent my heart speeding until it was a blur in my chest.

Strapped to the cross, all I could do was let Q give what he wanted. His erection sprang harder against me as he thrust his tongue deep, licking my mouth, devouring me.

Breaking the kiss, Q stepped back, holding up the cat-o’-nine-tails. He draped it on my shoulder and very, very slowly let it fall, so it tickled and trickled down the left side of my body.

I shivered as a bead caught my nipple, sending it peaking into a painful tip.

Inch by inch, Q watched the trail of his whip on my belly and hip, falling like a waterfall of leather to kiss my welted thigh.

Thoughts raced in Q’s eyes, and I wished I could decipher him; unriddle him and find the key to owning him heart, body, and soul.

Pulling back, he hooked his thumbs into his boxer-briefs and pulled them down. My mouth went instantly dry. Watching this man strip made every part of me combust into a rain of fire.

His cock sprang free, heavy and heated with need. The discarded boxer-briefs fell to his ankles, and he kicked them away without care.

So proud and sure, almost cocky and arrogant, but the cool aloofness I mistook in the past was actually tightly reined passion.

A will of iron that buckled and strained to stay human all the while urges beat him to submit.

Discarding the whip with a flick of his wrist, Q dropped his hand to wrap around his thick girth. He stroked once, twice. His long fingers fully encasing himself as he pumped strong and sure.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

Everything inside quivered. The just out-of-reach orgasm echoed in my pussy, clenching, calling to Q’s perfect cock.

I wanted to be Q’s fingers. I wanted to be his flesh. I wanted to be his cock receiving such pleasure. I wanted everything about him, and yet he gave me nothing.

I trailed my eyes up his physique, over his rigid stomach, skittering over his intricate tattoo, along his chest, up his stubble-smooth chin and parted lips until I finally looked him in the eye.

It felt as if the world exploded on its axis, tripping, spinning, hurling me headlong into sin and debauchery.

“You want me. Don’t you, Tess.” Q’s voice dropped to gruff and midnight. Still stroking himself with one hand, he came forward and cupped between my spread legs.

I moaned as his touch acted like gasoline on an already blazing inferno. “Q, please,” I warbled, my tongue too heavy to form proper sentences.

His fingers were little sticks of dynamite, and I begged to light them for a cataclysmic explosion.

He swayed toward me, stroking himself harder, drawing drops of glistening pre-cum.

My heart roared in my ears. I fought the restraints. I needed to be free. I needed to lick and bite him. I needed to fuck him with an urgency I’d never felt before.

Q tutted under his breath. “You want to be free?” He nuzzled my neck, licking at the sore skin from his earlier bite. “You’ll never be free again. ~Je te garde pour toujours.~” I’m keeping you forever.

Oxygen no longer held merit as Q inserted two fingers deep inside me, pulsating in time with his strokes on his cock. I bucked, desperate to get closer. Fingers weren’t enough.

~Take me! Own me.~

Q groaned as he fisted himself, working harder. “Fuck, I want my cock inside you.

“To be deep in your darkness, your wetness, your fucking sweet pussy.” He pressed another finger deep, and my back bowed.

I moaned, eyes squeezed shut against the siege of euphoria. “Do it. Please, God, do it.”

“So eager. So keen,” he growled, his hand working harder, fingers throttling his cock.

I moaned, nodding. “For you, yes. Always for you.”

He trembled, groaning under his breath. “Only for me,~ esclave~. All mine.” He fingered me harder. His thumb found my clit, swirling in time to the tempo he set. Rocking, possessing, mind-shattering.

His thumb was magic, conjuring swirling, sparking energy to center on his touch.

My stomach tensed as my core tightened around him, demanding to be filled, to be satisfied and taken, but Q just kept up the maddening erotic beat. Thrust, swirl, thrust.

His hand worked his erection, bringing more blood to his cock, so it heated and wept with clear liquid. Liquid I wanted to lap.

His balls tightened, sitting high and full, straining with the need to come.

With his fingers still deep inside me, Q stopped stroking himself to fumble with one of the straps around my wrists. I groaned as the tightness released, letting blood gush into my hands.

He never faltered in his rhythm as he undid the cuffs around my neck and other wrist. When I was free, he placed my hand on his cock.

His velvety heat was like the trigger on my release. My body clamped around his fingers as the first ripple milked him hard. ~So fucking good~. My hand squeezed Q tightly. He hissed, but I didn’t care.

All I could focus on was the heady thrill of finally giving in to the body-aching orgasm.

I felt eternally heavy as if gravity increased a thousandfold and then I let go, embracing the next wave of my orgasm, pulsing around my heart, wrapped tight around my spine and inner thighs, blazing with need.

Q slapped my hand away from his cock and withdrew his fingers.

~No!~

I gasped as the orgasm faltered, and, with no stimulation, receded like a pitiful wave.

“Why? Let me come. Please, let me come!” I begged, reaching for him with my freed arms.

He ducked out of reach, unleashing my ankles before standing again. Trailing his fingers over my torso, he turned his hands to claws, raking nails across me.

He didn’t break the skin, but the burn activated the whip marks, encouraging pain to smolder. Reaching my waist, he undid the final strap and pulled me from the cross.

With a grim mouth, he murmured, “I’m not done with you yet. When you come, it will feel so fucking unbelievable you won’t be able to move.”

He gathered me into his arms, pressing his forehead against mine and breathing deep. “Promise to obey everything I say.

“If you even think of rebelling or speaking against me, I’ll not be held accountable. ~T’as compris~?” Do you understand?

I was speechless. For Q to demand I obey him, to allow him full control and acceptance never happened. He got off on fighting, on denial.

I wanted to ask so many questions, but held my tongue and nodded.

I would’ve promised to do anything if it meant I could finally come.

Q backed away a little, crooking his finger for me to follow. “Come here.”

My feet moved of 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-ton 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 through 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 his 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 unraveled 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 cum 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 for 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.”