Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(21)

The ulterior message that Q liked unsullied—that he prized what was untouched and pure—wasn’t lost on me. Too bad I wasn’t a virgin for him—did he hate that I’d been used before? I stopped that train of thought. It hurt too much.

Ignoring his gaze, I tottered forward in my stilettos, the heels sinking into the thick, dark strands of luxury carpet. I couldn’t think of a more aptly named helicopter: the Relentless. Exactly like its new owner: relentless in breaking me, owning me, torturing me.

A flatscreen TV graced one wall along with a panel full of dials and gadgets that I daren’t touch.

“It’s lovely,” I whispered.

A loud masculine laugh rang around the enclosed cabin. “Just lovely? Hell, if you don’t respect the bird, you can catch a cab to Paris.”

Q chuckled, flicking his gaze to a man who’d appeared at the top of the steps. Decked out in full pilot regale, his black hair was covered with a beret and his dark brown eyes twinkled.

“It’s nice to know you appreciate her as much as I do, Mr. Murphy.” Q’s voice echoed through my bones, activating my trembling core all over again.

I bit my tongue to stop the low moan and forced myself to smile. “It’s a gorgeous piece of aviation. I’m looking forward to flying in style.”

Mr. Murphy bowed his head, touching the edge of his pilot’s cap. “I should think so, ma’am.” He flashed me a smile and turned his attention to Q. “If you’re ready to depart, I suggest we leave now, sir. Winds are good, and flight time should be about thirty-three minutes.”

Q nodded, waving him away. “You’re free to take off.” His sharp jade eyes darted to me, and I suffered an instantly dry mouth. The taste of him lingered on my tongue. I wanted nothing more than to have him use me again.

His lips twitched and the cabin pressurized with whatever thoughts Q indulged.

“Please don’t disturb us, captain. I have a lot of work to catch up on. I trust you’ll get me to my office in time, without needing to communicate.”

The captain shot me a quick stare before nodding and backing down the stairs. “No problem, sir. As you wish.”

“Oh, and Mr. Murphy?” Q ran a fingertip over his bottom lip, deep in whatever thoughts he entertained.

The captain paused, his body poised. “Yes, sir?”

“I’m locking the connecting door.” His head tilted, body language projecting a simple warning. “We aren’t to be interrupted. Understand?”

The captain didn’t look at me this time, for which I was thankful. My heart raced a gazillion beats a minute, and I couldn’t suck down gluttonous breaths without swimming with need.

Q didn’t move a muscle, locked tight in his chair.

The captain nodded again. “No problem at all. I’ll see you in Paris.” He swung the fuselage door closed. The sound of the lock stole the ability to stand up. My knees wobbled sending me sprawling into a chair.

Locked inside a tiny space with Q for half an hour.

Oh, God. I’ll end up humping his leg, or worse, sitting on his face. I started to hyperventilate. I wasn’t strong enough to endure his punishment. I’d crack. No doubt. I’m already cracking.

The chair enveloped me in five-star comfort, but I could’ve floated in gossamer and clouds for all I cared—it would’ve still irritated my skin, set fire to my extremities. Just like the hated tight skirt and silky pantyhose. Every twitch, every movement, flared the whip marks on my thighs—a direct link to the burn between my legs.

I would never feel normal again. I descended into the realm of lunacy.

Lunacy.

That’s what I felt for Q.

Love and hate entwined so intrinsically, plaiting together into one sharp-edged, life-consuming feeling.

Q had created an entirely different emotion—one I’d never be free of: utter madness. I would never be free from the craziness of falling for a beast.

I dropped my eyes, realizing I stared at Q with my face projecting every racing conclusion.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, keeping his voice low and coaxing. If anything, it was worse than his normal volume. It whispered under my clothes, licking around my nipples.

I clenched my thighs together, glaring at my hands in my lap. Tears bruised my eyes; self-pity made me shake. I’d never wanted an orgasm so much in my life.

The sound of heavy machinery cranking shook the helicopter. The rotor blades picked up speed within a moment.

“Tess…” Q shifted forward in his chair, linking his hands between his open thighs. The position was so like when he put the tracker on my ankle when we first met that I whimpered. Even that first meeting, I’d been wet for him. My body had no self-control toward this man. He made me weak. He made me dependant.

“Nothing. I’m thinking nothing.” My stomach swooped into my feet as we took off with an all-powerful soar. The helicopter acted as if it had wings, not metal blades keeping it airborne.

Q never took his eyes off me, frozen into position; the only thing that changed was his fingers. They grew white with how hard he clenched.

His proximity made me shiver and ache and scream inside. My body was swollen and driving me to the point of insanity with the need to release.

I’m sick. I must be. No person could make another exist in heightened flames of lust. I had a temperature, my mind consumed with my f*cking obsession that was Q.