Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(22)

Q sucked in a breath before unlocking his unsteady hands and reclining into the chair. “Are you feeling okay, Tess?” His eyes were guarded, face closed to me, but his body fermented with tightly reined lust.

I snorted loudly, twitching in the chair, cursing the lashes on my thighs, hexing Q for leaving me this way. “What the hell do you think?”

Q didn’t move for a full minute. One torturous minute while our eyes locked and our minds connected and our subconscious bellowed at each other. Our minds made love, we ravaged, we ruined, all while not touching. But it wasn’t enough.

It accelerated my heart. It made my * seep eager wetness. It pretzeled my mind into someone I no longer recognised, but it didn’t give me what I needed.

“Why did you tell the captain not to disturb us?” My voice was barely noticeable over the rotor blades, but Q heard me.

He stilled, surging with carnal tension. He watched me from a lowered brow, letting me trap myself, walk right into whatever web he cast. “Why do you think, esclave?”

Esclave. The one word that was hyperlinked to my *.

My eyes snapped shut as a wave of my denied orgasm clutched my entire body.

Oh, f*ck. Fuck me, I couldn’t do it.

“I’m done,” I choked, twisted with longing and fogged with confusion. “I’m going insane!” I grabbed a handful of hair and pulled, trying to find some relief from the ceaseless buildup.

But the pain only amplified my desire, sending another throb pulsating through my body.

The helicopter blades whirred and wound the cabin with sexual tension. Q sucked in a breath, straining against his suit. He sat so still and looked so unaffected. It wasn’t fair. He came. He came all down my throat and all over my breasts. It’s my turn, dammit!

I was too far gone—too consumed by a bodily need.

Scrambling out of the luxury leather, I dropped to the carpet and crawled.

I f*cking crawled in a two thousand euro designer skirt, zeroing in on the one person who held my cure.

Q’s face shot to unreadable, pale eyes glowing in the morning sunlight from the window. His lips parted, sucking in a noisy breath. “Get up,” he growled.

I whimpered and shook my head, keeping my shoulders hunched as I traversed the small distance. Every whiplash, every bead bruise, every cell in my body throbbed.

He sat straighter, using the armrests to hoist himself upward. His fingers turned white around the leather, gripping hard. “Stop. Have I ever asked you to crawl or be any less than a woman?”

His face grew black with fury as I slowed and knelt between his open thighs. His body heat murdered the rest of my coherent thought. He wanted to own me? He possessed me in that moment.

I raised my eyes, fearful of what I would see in his. Then I jumped as he reached down and grabbed my triceps.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers biting deep. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care because my master was touching me, and my body was too swept up in pleasure to be scared of Q’s wrath. He teased me, used me, and denied me this morning. I couldn’t be expected to work, or function as a human being without him saving me from this pleasurable agony.

Soaring high above patchwork farms, quaint villages, and thatched cottages, I bared my soul to him. “I didn’t mean to take control away from you. I wanted to give you pleasure. I wanted to show how much I care, how much I believe in you.”

Q shook, his face darkened further; his fingers turned to talons, cutting off the blood supply around my arms. “You took away my control. Do you know what happens to women like you if I lose it?” He shook me. “It’s the one thing I’ve been able to rely on my entire life, and yet you shattered it with my balls in your hands.” No other man had a voice like Q. Dark, dangerous, laced with a melodic French accent. Being reprimanded by him was pure audio perfection.

He stood suddenly, hauling me to my feet. I wobbled in his grip, staring into his turbulent eyes. “Pourquoi tu dois me pousser comme ?a?” Why must you push me so?

“Because I need to break you to make you mine.” My voice thickened with strength. It was true. More than I knew.

Not caring that Q might make my punishment worse, I wriggled in his grip until his fingers loosened. The moment my arms were free, I reached for my top button and undid it with rattling fingers.

Q’s eyes dropped to my chest, absorbed by my jerky fingers.

My body was heavy, melting, sparking with the closeness, the threat of being taken. I would make Q f*ck me. I would.

He didn’t try to stop me as I unclasped the remaining buttons and pulled the soft material from my waistband. I stood in front of him, shirt spread to reveal the black lacy bra with tiny diamantés on the straps.

With my pulse skyrocketing, I traced a cross over the swell of my breast, directly above my heart. “I give you my oath that I will obey you. I won’t force you to give me what you’re not ready to give.”

Q stopped breathing; his eyes locked onto my exposed skin. His wet tongue licked his lips, tasting me from head to toe without even moving. My eyes dropped to his trousers, a heady thrill heating me at the hard bulge straining against the material.

The helicopter banked to the left, sending us leaning into the curve. His gaze connected with mine and the lust simmering in his eyes changed from pale to glowing, burning, searing.

His hand shot out and captured my chin, holding me tight. His chest pumped and the cords of muscle in his neck shot into stark relief. “Esclave—” His voice positively stroked my *, rippling over my skin.