Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(10)

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

I trembled with every millimetre 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 f*cking 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, f*ck 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 chiselled 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 f*ck 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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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, ma?tre. 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.