Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(59)

My body responded: tightening, building, already forgetting the abuse from Brute.

Q bit my ear, pressing his suited chest against mine, cock thickening inside,

heating, scorching. The fine edge of pleasure and violence unravelled me. “Come for me, esclave.”

His magic words bent me to his will, and my body no longer obeyed me. It obeyed its new owner.

I screamed as an orgasm rippled from toes, up calves, into thighs, and finally detonated inside my core. I rippled around him, banding tight, milking with every wave of release. Fireworks weren’t enough, and I climbed higher, pushed on by Q’s thrusts and smell and taste and unbridled rapture.

Fireworks jetted to comets and comets thundered to galaxies as Q pumped harder.

He yelled, “Baiser moi.”Fuck me. He reared back, arms locking as he drove into me the hardest I’d ever taken it. Smooth balls slapped against my ass; I burned, blazed, fired from his claiming. “Take my come. Take a part of me,” he growled.

Deep inside, I felt him spurt, dousing me in warmth, marking me, while at the same time giving up a part of himself.

Shuddering, the last of his climax wrung him dry. He collapsed on top, uncaring about the steam-filled shower, or his ruined suit. The thrumming of his heart matched mine as we lay on the floor, unable to move.

For the first time in my life, I felt a bond. A profound connection, an intrinsic part of me belonged to him. Not just master and slave, but man and woman.

Was he the man to make my heart sing? This overbearing dom who wanted me to submit one moment, then wrapped me in cotton wool the next?

I couldn’t deny he gave me a selfish gift. My body no longer trembled from what happened. He gave me a new memory full of heart-breaking brutality. I throbbed with a residual orgasm, eerily vacant thanks to my soul-wracking cry.

Q met my eyes, and his simmering anger made me swallow. “Am I in trouble?” He looked as if he wanted to put me over his knee and spank me.

His lips twitched and he slapped the side of my ass. “Ah, esclave you’re in serious trouble. I’ll never be able to leave you alone now.”





Quail



I expected Q to shut down and leave after our shower—too many things passed between us, and I was raw. Q avoided my eyes as he pulled out and stood, but he didn’t move to leave.

He leaned down, pulling me off the floor, before stepping out of his soaking trousers and throwing them in the bath. The wet material slapped loudly, followed by his blazer. He left his shirt on, long enough to cover hips but not the thick, heavy cock between his legs. He maintained the hair down there just like he did his head. A subtle shadow of masculinity without any of the wildness.

My body tingled. He screamed man and dynamism. I was a girl with a ceaseless past, no way enough for him, but determined to try.

He took me tonight in a mixture of compassion and anger, but I wanted more. I wanted what he promised when I first arrived. The act of taking from me, even though my body would willingly give up every part to him.

I bit my lip, remembering Q fingering me over the pool table. I’d been turned on beyond anything I could’ve imagined. Hatred for him added another dimension to an already overwhelming experience. Now, I didn’t hate him, but I still wanted to struggle.

I needed Q to take me again and again. I needed him to rule me so Brute didn’t win by making me fear sex. I belonged to Q, yet he never stepped over the line from tormentor to rapist.

I huddled into the towel, so confused.

Q stalked out of the bathroom, leaving wet footprints. The cold embrace of rejection made me tremble. Was that it? He took what he wanted, then left me to fend for myself. What happened to his promise of never leaving me alone?

I couldn’t let Q cast me off. Without him, I belonged to no one. I no longer had parents or Brax. My old life was over.

Q ruined me for a monotonous grey-toned existence, eclipsing it with techno colour.

The bathroom closed in, dripping with blackness and horror-filled memories. Without Q, my skin itched with terror as demons and monsters crept from shadows.

I knew I needed to deal with my issues, to find my strength. I couldn’t use Q as a bandage to forget, but I wasn’t strong enough yet.

The sounds of opening drawers drifted into the bathroom, and Q prowled back with arms full of clothes. He placed them in the dry basin and ripped my towel off. I stood, naked, thrilled how his body tensed, eyes glued to my exposed figure.

“Hold up your arms,” he ordered, a large white t-shirt in his hands. I complied and he slipped the t-shirt over my head. His five o’ clock shadow rasped my cheek as he bent to tug the hem.

“Step.” He kneeled with a pair of white knickers, raising an eyebrow. I clutched his wet shoulder for balance, letting him slide the knickers up my legs. The sensual slide, his fingers kissing skin, made my eyes snap closed.

He pinged the elastic around my hips with a small smile.

This man who killed for me, f*cked me, owned me was dressing me. It didn’t make sense.

Q leaned forward and hooked fingers beneath my heavy tresses, pulling damp curls from beneath the t-shirt. His fingers caused lust to swirl again. I was insatiable.

His nostrils flared. The bathroom went from steamy to sex-aware and provocative. He stood rigid and aloof; his face hidden behind a mask of inexhaustible control.

“Hello, treasure.”

Brute’s voice slashed through my brain. My throat dried in panic as the rape replayed at hyper-speed. My soul chilled with ice, reliving what happened. A tremble racked my body and I keened.