Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(67)

“Ah, esclave. Tu m'excite au-delà de la croyance.” You excite me beyond belief. Fingers shot between my legs, plunging deep. My knees trembled as his hand rocked, hard.

I whimpered, body reacting—swelling, melting, needing. I was ravenous for whatever Q gave. I wanted him so badly, but I wanted to fight just as much. The act of saying no did strange things to me, turning sex from mediocre to knee-wobbly and carnal. I became a hungry, libido-driven woman; only Q could scratch my erotic itch.

Q murmured in French, dialects swallowed by the silent night-shrouded room. I panted, but it sounded hushed, like a dream.

His finger was the ultimate ownership. Palpitating my core, he sucked in a breath as I thrust, needing more

I couldn’t help it. I moaned.

He pressed his cock against my hip, smearing glistening pre-cum on me. His erection was hot, hard, and tempting beyond belief. His breathing matched mine in roughness. “You can’t lie. Not now. Not when your body blares the truth.” He moved his fingers, stroking inner parts of me, throbbing with the need to release.

He was right, I couldn’t lie and I cried harder.

I wanted to scream: f*ck me, I’m yours. Instead, I said, “Get your fingers out of me.”

“Shush, ma belle. You want this.” His voice rippled with sensuality. I wondered how much he acted, too. Had he tamed himself on my account? How much darker would he go?

Q stroked harder, withdrawing more moisture between my legs. My breasts ached to be touched, mouth empty, needing kisses, but my heart blazed so full, I thought I might disintegrate into fiery fragments.

Q stopped suddenly, withdrawing. “I’m the only one who can give you what you truly desire.” Fingers dug into my cheek, spreading my scent. “But I refuse to take it.” He stepped between my legs, positioning his cock where I wanted him most. He rubbed with the tip, earning a pant and a cry.

I rocked, imploring him to take me. I trembled with need so extreme, it set my teeth on edge.

“Give it to me, or you’ll become nothing.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m giving you everything you ask for. There’s nothing left to give.”

Pulling back, he stared, unfettered, eyes blazing with overpowering lust. He stepped away, dragging a hand over his short pelt of hair.

My hips moved toward him on their own accord, searching, wanting. Mortified, I pressed against the post, hoping he hadn’t seen.

But he did; his lips quirked. “Always lying.”

I said nothing.

Q paced. “I’ll f*ck you anyway you want, if you give me what I want.”

Delicious anticipation filled, but I frowned. “What do you want?”

“I want to own all of you, esclave. Including your name.”

My heart raced. Truth rang in his words. He would deny both of us because he wanted to know my name. I didn’t have to fake the answer: “You’ll be dead before that happens.” I was furious with him.

He chuckled—it sounded positively light-hearted compared to the tension charging around us. “No one will be dead, but I might die of pleasure by having you.”

I ignored the thrill, staying in character. “Bastard.”

His mood shifted to commanding, dominating. “You have no idea.” He laughed but it held pain.

My breath hitched. I tried my rusty French. “Je ne suis pas à toi.” I am not yours.

Grinding his teeth, he reached up, undoing the knicker restraints. Pulling my body roughly away from the bedpost, he threw me on the mattress. “I dare you to say that again, esclave.” Folding himself over me like a living cape, pressing down, almost suffocating me in the covers. My stomach twisted and a small mewl escaped. The overbearing action of lying on me, both thrilled and terrified.

Lips kissed a trail along the back of my neck, all the while fingers tickled the inside of my thigh, moving higher, higher.

Each millimetre he travelled set my blood to boil. I didn’t understand how one touch made me shiver with need. Was it Q’s domination? The knowledge I couldn’t stop him? It couldn’t be. The rape cured me of that ridiculous fantasy.

Somewhere in my mind, I knew Q meant me no harm. He wanted me and I was his; there was nothing wrong with him taking me—anyway he chose.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded.

I instantly complied. Fingers found my entrance, stroking. Q’s breath hitched as he forced two fingers inside, stretching, bruising, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. An orgasm teased, on the brink of release. So close, so fast. I wanted it desperately.

Q seemed to sense my urgency and slid off. Kneeling behind, hands curled around my ankles possessively, spreading my stance even more.

I cried out as his tongue licked up my leg, moving with delicious wet pressure, heading to the one place I ached.

When his tongue found me, sucking my clit with the finesse of an experienced lover, my hips bucked over his mouth. I’d never been so needy, so possessed with yearning. I never wanted to think again. This was true freedom—right here, with my master kneeling between my legs.

A long finger entered, thrusting deep as his tongue lapped, conjuring star bright spasms, shooting in my belly. I rode his finger, searching for friction.

I needed him in me. I needed him to claim.

He stood, grabbing my neck, arching me to kiss him. His chin glistened from my wetness, filling me with my taste.