Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(20)

Rocking back, I broke Tess’s hold on me and picked up my coffee. I gulped it back, welcoming the scald on my tongue—the pain helped ground me. It wiped away frivolous emotional thoughts and made me regroup.

Work.

I had to focus on work. Not this woman who turned my thoughts and body against me. Avoiding Tess’s gaze, I placed the empty coffee cup in the sink. “We have to go. We’re late as it is, and God knows what’s happened with my company these last four days.”

I buttoned up my blazer buttons and smoothed the silk teal tie.

Risking a look at Tess, my throat closed taking in her glare. Her face was flushed, feverish; her eyes bright, shooting blue-grey lightning bolts right into my cock.

“I’m in agony, Q. I need some relief. You can’t expect me to spend the day by your side and not go out of my mind.” She came closer, but I captured her hands, keeping them from destroying my self-control.

“Please, please, f*ck me.”

Goddammit, how could I refuse that? How could I refuse my own body?

Red haze tinted my vision and the beast snarled deep within.

Fuck everything.

I’d give her what she wanted. What I wanted. What we needed.

“Sir, your flight is ready to take off.” My chin whipped up to find Franco, head of my security and annoying son of a bitch, in the middle of the lounge. He bowed his head, brushing a hand over his amused grin. His green eyes never looked away though, knowing exactly what we were up to.

Merde. I’ll have to fire all my staff if I want to have Tess naked again. All of them were determined to keep me from her.

“Fine. We’re coming,” I growled.

Franco covered his chuckle as he turned and left. Bastard.

Turning to Tess, I asked, “Are you ready to go?” My voice was gruff, cold. But only because I had so much frustration inside. All I wanted to do was slide deep inside her. I wanted to hang her from the ceiling in the harness and lick her * until she cried.

Tess narrowed her eyes, her hands curled into small fists. Small tremors of need skittered over her skin and her entire demeanour flared with annoyance. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

My eyes shot to hers, trying to read her second meaning. I had no doubt there was a second meaning.

Her face said nothing, but her body spoke volumes.

And it said f*ck me.





Save me, enslave me, you will never cave me.

Taunt me, flaunt me, kill whatever haunts me...



Two words.

Love: The most spectacular, indescribable, deep, euphoric, unconditional acceptance of someone.

Hate: An intense dislike; an elevated level of anger; an unnatural emotion of inexplicable temper.

Both those words were defined, but if I existed this way for much longer, I would lose the meaning completely.

Love and hate.

Love and hate.

I both loved and hated Q with an ever burning passion.

Love was something I’d only ever had glimpses of: brotherly love for Brax, my girlfriendly love for friends at university. I never felt love for a family member. Not once did I have a rush of kinship in my entire childhood.

I existed in a loveless void until Q bulldozed his way in with his anger and twistedness.

What I felt for Q exceeded the realms of love in my mind. I wanted to love him. I wanted to crack his cruel fa?ade and help him learn to love me back. I wanted to love his darkness, as well as bring him some light.

I swallowed back the weird giggle bubbling in my chest. I’m the love cripple trying to teach a loveless monster.

But none of that mattered, because he was set on torturing me. Twice he almost gave in to the gravity-altering pull between us and twice he let an interruption halt it.

An interruption shouldn’t matter! He should’ve demanded more time—after all, he was the boss—and finished what he started this morning.

His punishment was the worst I could’ve ever imagined, and my stomach growled with hunger and indigestion from being so tightly wound. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t think. I could barely sit still or walk straight.

My head pounded with excess energy, body twinged and throbbed with the need to release. My hands itched to touch myself. He shattered my willpower.

“Be careful.” Q took my hand as I climbed the helicopter steps and entered the first chopper I’d been in in my life. The sleek black machine, emblazoned with Q’s initials and a flock of gold-gilded sparrows, was stunning, but the inside was incomparable.

I slammed to a halt, my jaw hanging wide.

Everything about Q vibrated wealth. He wasn’t flashy, he wasn’t ostentatious. It was ingrained into his pores as much as his heady citrus scent. So why I let the interior of a helicopter floor me and make me hyperaware of Q’s bank balance, I didn’t know.

Q pushed me forward, moving me out of the way.

I looked around in wonder at the four impeccable black leather chairs. They faced each other in pairs with crimson stitching and armrests full of dials for massages and who knows what.

“Do you like it?” Q smiled, taking a seat in one of the huge chairs. “I was lucky enough to secure one of the prototypes. It’s a Bell 525 Relentless.” He stroked the leather while his face softened. “I may spend the majority of my wealth on other hobbies—” his voice tightened mentioning the sex trade industry—“but I like nice things. And I like procuring things others haven’t owned before.”