Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(64)

Q rolled his shoulders as if reigning himself in, bringing his energy to heel. “I told you—I sense you.” Toned muscles stood out beneath the white t-shirt; I couldn’t look away from the bulge in his jeans.

“Now, stay still and present.” His face remained stoic and cool as he advanced with the scissors, running the cold kiss of metal along my neck, dipping to my throat. His breathing quickened as the blade nicked my collar.

With perfect care, he cut my t-shirt right down the centre. Each snip undid me, thread by thread, until I was sure he opened my chest, revealing a rabbiting heart, and all my secrets.

Everything he did symbolised so much. Q relished in playing me with unsaid words, everything about him a mystery.

He won’t be so cocky when I discover who he is. I’d use those secrets to play the same game—a sick circle of mind-trips and power struggles. My core clenched at the thought of going head to head with Q in a battle of wills. I didn’t think I’d win, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to win. I could allow him to rule me—like I wanted him to.

He swallowed when he snipped the hem, splaying it wide, showing bare breasts and rapidly breathing stomach. With perfect control, he ran the pinpoint of a blade from my lower lip, down my neck, between my cleavage, to the top of my cotton shorts.

Skin broke out in goosebumps as he pressed ever so gently. The blade puckered my skin, but didn’t pierce. The delicate balance of trusting and fearing him made my heart buck out of control.

Q seemed lost in contemplation, twisting the scissors in a circle around my belly button. He told me not to leave, to remain rather than disappearing in my mind, but he left. His face shadowed with thoughts and recollections. Things that didn’t seem pleasurable, things that made his body tremble. I’d give anything to follow him—to see if he lived in the dark or light.

I tested the boundaries of the restraints, no give at all. He’d tied the knickers well. I squirmed beneath the blade; his eyes snapped to mine. He blinked, casting shadows away.

Palming the scissors, he leaned closer, wrapping fingers around my wrists as the button of his jeans bit my belly. His clothed chest teased my nipples, making them harden to a painful nub. “You have no idea how much I want to f*ck you.”

Oh, God. His voice activated every part. I panted breathlessly, “Why don’t you then? Or do you enjoying torturing first?”

He reared back, jaw working. “Do you think this is torture? I could do so much worse, esclave. He rubbed his groin against mine, pressing my ass hard against the bedpost with his cock. “I want to do so much worse.” His accent thickened, muttering, “Je tiens à te faire hurler.” I want to make you scream. He didn’t say it in a kinky, playful way; he said it with passion so nightmarish, I couldn’t see anything but whips and pain and blood.

That did it.

My lust switched to fear and I moaned again, but this time, it was a plea. “Please… you don’t have to make me scream. You can take me. I’m yours.”

He laughed darkly. “You don’t get it do you, esclave? Your permission turns me off. I need to take from you to feel something. If you think I’m not like those men who raped you, you’re wrong. There’s something broken in me, and I need your pain to come.” He twisted a nipple with angry fingers. I yelped.

Pain coursed to pleasure, warming, making me wet. If Q was hardwired, needing pain to enjoy sex, so was I. I might’ve gone through my entire life, never knowing the key to my pleasure was pain.

Q, in his brutality, showed me something taboo… showed I liked to be dominated, and not just light role-playing. No, I needed the real thing.

Light shone through my brain at the realization. I’m not a sweet, innocent girl who wants cotton candy and sonnets. I’m a fighter, a slut, a woman who needed to be taught her own body.

As I stood, tied to a bed with my owner leering with sin in his eyes and promise of hurt on his lips, I changed again. The chrysalis of who I’d been cracked open, letting me fly free. I unfurled newfound wings, becoming more than Tess. I became a twisted, treasured belonging, revelling in her ownership. Who wanted Q to hurt her.

Fire blazed in my belly; I bared my teeth, snarling. “I won’t let you f*ck me.”

Everything slammed to a halt.

Q. Me. Time.

The world teetered while Q tried to read me. We glared into each other’s eyes, reflecting the same f*cked-upness, recognizing the same in the other. The bond between us flared tight, reaching with glowing shackles, binding us together. I relished in the binds, accepting my true identity before Q even realized what I offered.

Slowly, Q moved, his entire body predatory, smooth, shark like. “You won’t let me f*ck you, esclave?” Delight shimmered in his gaze, etched with black smouldering lust. “I’ve already f*cked you. What makes you think I want to again?”

I thrust my hips forward, bumping an overheated core against his straining erection. The moment I slipped into unwilling victim, Q raged with hardness. His cock verged on iron, hard and unyielding.

“I don’t care if you do or don’t. You won’t because I say you’re not allo—”

He smothered me with his body; the post dug into my back as his mouth captured mine. A tongue speared between my lips.

I whimpered, melted, wanting so badly to kiss him back. But that wasn’t allowed in the role I played. The role I needed to play.