Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(12)

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 goose-bumps. 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 *, clenching, calling to Q’s perfect cock.