Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(17)

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 f*ck, 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 f*cking 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.”

She bit her lip, prickling with energy. Her eyes locked onto my lips and I threw caution and resentment and every other f*cked-up emotion I felt out the goddamn window.

I grabbed her by the back of the neck, jerking her toward me.

She gasped; her hands came up to steady herself on my chest. My skin electrified beneath her touch. I growled, “Turns out I’m punishing myself by punishing you.” I ran my tongue over her bottom lip, nipping at her, teasing her. “I don’t like it.”

She sighed, pressing herself hard against me. She trembled as she rocked her hips against my leg. “Does this mean you’ll let me come?” Her voice was a thread, aching with need.

I picked her up to throw her on the bed. I couldn’t think straight; all I wanted was her * around my cock.

“Merde. Je suis désolé!” I’m sorry.

Tess froze in my arms, looking over my shoulder toward the open door. An embarrassed smile bloomed on her face; her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Morning, Suzette.”

I groaned. That woman had the worst f*cking timing in the world. I let Tess down, dragging out the moment, slinking her over my body.

She tried to stay composed in front of the staff, but her heartbeat thrummed in her neck and my eyes latched onto the small bite I’d given her. Her skin slightly shadowed from my ungentle fingers.

The moment Tess stood on her feet, I spun to face Suzette with eyes narrowed and frustration darkening my voice. “Qu'est ce qu’il y a?” What is it?

She ducked her head, smiling shyly at Tess behind me. Damn the sisterhood bond they had going on. I liked that Tess had friends. I liked that my staff loved her. But I didn’t like being the third wheel, the one they’d talk about the moment I was out of earshot.

“The helicopter is waiting to depart. The captain asked me to come and find you. You missed takeoff over an hour ago.”

Pushing up my cuff, I checked my Rolex—the same Rolex I stole from my father after I shot him in the head. Shit, I’d missed a morning meeting, too.

“Tell him we’ll depart in fifteen minutes,” I ordered, falling into hard-assed CEO mode.

Suzette scurried off, and I spun to face Tess. I couldn’t stand to be around her; the need to molest her was too strong. Swallowing the urge, I pointed at the bite on her neck. “Cover that. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”

And I ran again. Like a f*cking *.

*****

I found the one I searched for in the reading nook on the second-floor landing. It overlooked the foyer, bright and airy—it was the perfect illusion of ultimate freedom, all the while remaining in the house.

“Morning, Sephena.”

She flinched, hugging the latest fashion magazine to her chest and cowering in the chair. Her knee bones jutted starkly under the jeans I’d bought for her, and she refused to wear anything but baggy sweaters that hid her gaunt frame.

My hands curled into fists as anger seeped into me. The night Franco brought Sephena here she’d been dressed in a bikini that wrapped around her body like an Egyptian mummy. The sick bastards who sold her liked to unwind her, make her dizzy, poke and prod until she was naked and forced to do God knows what.

“Morning, sir.” Her timid voice never rose past a whisper. She refused to make eye contact with me, preferring to dog-ear the corner of the magazine and hunch into a ball.

I hated the stench of fear, appalled by her destroyed soul and beaten body. The beast in me tucked its tail between its legs when faced with prey that was already broken beyond repair.

Damaged girls brought out the need to protect them from harm, but they also turned me off completely. I waged with wanting to save them and wanting to kill them just to put them out of their misery.

I stayed my distance, heading to the banister to give her some space. “Did you want me to call your husband? I’m sure he’d love to talk to you.”

She shook her head violently, sending matted brown hair all around her face. Tears spilled instantly, tracking down her cheeks. “No! I can’t. He can’t see me like this. I can’t. No… Please, don’t make me.”

I held up my hand, fighting the urge to run from such desperation. I couldn’t run from this. This was the reason I existed. My one redeeming quality to make up for the evilness living in me. “You can stay here as long as you need. However, he does know you’re here.”