Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(5)

Her eyes flashed to mine as I took another step, nudging her knee with my foot. She gazed from beneath her thick lashes, eyes swirling with complexities that I couldn’t figure out. Her chest rose as courage, sharp and brittle, etched her face.

“Do you like the thought of having nowhere to run? Nowhere to hide, esclave?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, she put the harness to the side. Her nipples sprung to a peak beneath my white T-shirt she wore to bed. “I know I can’t run from you, Q. And I wouldn’t want to. Not truly.”

Her voice was breathy but tense, and instead of amping my lust, it dampened it. I froze as she reached for another item. Why exactly was I letting her see this? My hands itched to slam the lid and barricade her from ever looking again.

Tess pulled out a bright red ball gag, a vinyl bodysuit with only a mouth slit and an opening between the legs, and a bar with cuffs for wrists and ankles.

Each item Tess placed on the floor filled me with more and more repulsion. Laid by my feet was evidence of my true sickness. My needs transcended middle-class kink and verged on life-threatening. I didn’t want fake fear or tears. No. I wanted the whole damn truth. I wanted to possess and obsess and consume. I wanted to be the air that Tess breathed. I wanted to be the water she drank. Keeping her alive all while wanting to kill her.

I never spoke truer words to Tess before. I was totally and utterly exhausted.

Tess made a noise, dragging me from my thoughts. I flinched at the item in her grasp: a red leather bag. I lunged for it, just as Tess pulled the zipper.

She moved too fast, swiping it out of my reach. “Let me see.” Her tone bordered on angry and a plea. Such a sweet cocktail of sounds.

I nodded, backing away from the items in the bag. Items I really, really wanted to use at that moment.

Tess lifted out a pair of silver scissors, a small knife, and three crystal vials. She didn’t bother pulling out the suction syringe I knew was in there to collect blood.

She rocked on her heels, pinning me with her grey stare. “I always wondered why you ruined so many of my clothes. You could’ve demanded I strip, but you always preferred to cut them, or burn, or tear. Is it because you secretly want to do that to my body? Tear me apart? Flay me? See my blood running like a river?”

I shut my eyes. I couldn’t handle the image she painted. The image I wanted. So. Fucking. Much.

Tess grabbed my ankle, pulling herself up my mostly naked form until she stood before me. Her warmth seeped into mine, and I wondered what would happen if I reached for her to give her something as simple as a hug: a show of tenderness, of sweet emotion. Could I survive it or would I crush her, squeeze her—go too far like I did every time?

Tess answered for me. She pressed a flogger into my grip. “You’re wrong to think your box of horrors scares me. It doesn’t.”

My eyes, heavy with regret and self-loathing, opened to drown in hers. She was so close, the swirls of blue and grey in her irises looked like angry seas. I tried to decipher the fear, stubbornness, and lust in her soul.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You need to talk to me. You can’t keep secrets, ma?tre. Not anymore. I won’t let you.” Stepping back, she ripped my T-shirt over her head, standing before me naked. With the courage of a warrioress, she pinched the white flesh of her lower abdomen. “Here. I want you to scar me here. Mark me if it will make you feel better. I want you to accept what I’m giving you. I want you to embrace it.”

I threw the flogger down. She didn’t offer me her body. She offered insanity. I wasn’t man enough for her, but I sure as hell had enough beast inside. But the man was a coward. I refused to drop the walls and let myself be fully free—no matter what promises Tess made me say. Scar her? Didn’t she know I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop at one?

I touched her taut belly with a fingertip. So smooth, so silky, so feminine. Tess panted softly, and her breasts rose and fell, teasing me, making me lose all inhibitions. Only she could spin this sort of web around me. Only she could make me so f*cked up and confused.

Cupping her breast, I pinched her nipple, hard. No gentle foreplay, just a possessive clinch. Her head fell forward, resting on my chest. Her scent of orchids and frost was the last of my undoing.

I gave up.

I gave in.

I wanted, and I wouldn’t stop.

I’d been going around in circles, letting my thoughts tangle and trip. Now, I was clearheaded and eager. Eager to embrace the role of hurtful, insatiable master.

My hand trailed from her breast up her neck and captured her throat. Wrenching her head back, I met her turbulent eyes with mine. Anger blazed through me. “You couldn’t just give me time, could you, esclave? Now I’m pissed and angry, and I don’t know the limits of my control. I’ve given in and nothing else matters but f*cking you.” I shook her, tightening my fingers around her neck.

She didn’t move, her arms stayed by her sides, and she let me throttle her. I tested her, noosing my fingers until the yielding, fragile muscles in her neck made my head swim with delirium.

Tess did nothing.

Forcing my fingers to loosen, I frowned. “Do you trust me not to go too far? Are you really that stupid?”

One hand flew to cover mine, but she didn’t tug or try to get me to release her. Her other palm rested on my unshaven cheek, jolting me with a dose of unconditional acceptance, need, want, and everything else that lived between us.