Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(82)

Q hit lower, licking my lower back and ass. “You aren’t allowed to ask questions.” Every strike burned, but rather than cripple with abuse, it changed me. I became a phoenix with a flaming back, welcoming the whip’s kiss. My body accepted the lash, not on my back, but in my core. Heat cranked to bonfire.

“Please, I need to know. Please…”

Q stopped whipping. I didn’t think he’d answer, but his breath kissed my neck, whispering, “You aren’t ready to hear the depths of my depravity, esclave.” He spanked my ass with one firm, biting hand. I groaned.

Even though the pain was multi-dimensional and I equally enjoyed and hated it, I tried to get free. It wasn’t the whip punishing—it was being held in perfect submission. I couldn't retaliate. I couldn’t twist or run. I could only hang and accept whatever Q gave.

Q backed up, murmuring, “Your skin is beautiful whipped, Tess, blooming pink and red. I think a few more colours are needed. Perhaps a deep maroon.”

The crack gave a second warning, before an intense sting buckled my knees; I swung in delirium. The lash held pent up emotion. Fear overrode again. Gone were the tantalizing questions, this was pure violence.

“This is for calling the police on me.” Q whipped hard.

“This is for running away.” Another agonising kiss.

“This is for making me so consumed by sin, I can no longer think straight.” Q grunted as he connected with flesh. I sobbed, wailing for him to stop. The crisscross burns stripped me to my soul.

Q threw the whip at my feet, cradling me in his arms. “It’s okay… stop crying.” His linen suit rasped against my tender back as he soothed. The throbbing heat kept time with heartbeats. I sucked heavy lungful’s of air. Is it over? “You’re f*cking with my mind,” I breathed through tears.

Q’s hand headed down my belly, inching lower until he cupped me. “No, I’m f*cking for your mind. I told you, I want to own you—body, heart, everything.”

I moaned as he circled my clit, nibbling my ear. “Tell me. Did you like being whipped?” He thrust a finger inside with no warning, arms banding tighter as I bucked in surprise. “Tell me the truth.”

I couldn’t think straight; I mumbled, “I didn’t like it, but I liked giving you what you need. It made me wet knowing you enjoyed it.”

“You think you didn’t enjoy it… but your body bent to the whip. Listen to what it’s telling you. Let it be your master.” Q sucked in a breath, finger pulsing inside before withdrawing. He brought his hand to my mouth. “You’re wet. So wet. Suck my finger, Tess.”

I opened, welcoming. My nose was stuffy from crying and I couldn’t get enough breath, but his taste of citrus mixed with me and the pain he caused branded with lust.

I rocked into his erection, silently pleading.

He stepped away, leaving me hanging like the captive I was. Q was wrong when he said being owned by him wasn’t romantic or sexy or fun. I’d never felt this way. This uninhibited. This free.

The world went black as Q fixed a blindfold over my eyes, tying it securely. Fingers grazed my neck, sending goosebumps and shivers skimming over my nakedness. I grew too hot thanks to the fire and perspiration dotted my upper lip.

“I’m going to take control of you now, Tess.”

I nodded erratically, heart beating wildly out of control.

Q grabbed my breast with one hand. Something sharp pinched on my nipple. I wished I could see what it was. Cupping my other breast, the weight of whatever he clamped dangled with an uncomfortable sensation.

Q murmured, “J'adore tes seins.” I love your tits.

The same pinching weight attached to my other nipple, sending shooting stars of need through an invisible link to my core.

I pulsed in time to blood throbbing in my nipples and whip marks. I whimpered as pain blossomed as more blood rushed.

Q grabbed the back of my neck, smothering my mouth with his. His tongue wrangled mine into yielding, our breaths mingled.

I moaned, becoming drunk on the taste of him.

Breathing hard, he stopped kissing me, and something soft and leathery danced along my stomach. I clenched, trying to figure out what it was. I hated the blindfold—the lack of eyesight. It made everything so much more aware, anxious, and sensitive.

Q sucked in a breath. “Every welt I give you makes me so f*cking hard.”

I groaned as leather bit into my stomach, right on my pubis. I tried to double over but restraints kept me arched—available for whatever torture he planned.

“You want to know how dark I’ll go? I want blood. I want you sobbing at my feet. I want you in f*cking tatters. Does that scare you?”

Another strike, this time just below my breasts. My rib injury flared with pain, and the nipple clamps jiggled as I twisted, trying to run. I couldn’t deny the tension of being completely at his mercy made my * throb, but I couldn’t understand why. Why did being a submissive turn me on? Why did inflicting pain turn Q on?

My voice was barely audible. “Yes, it scares me. Deliciously terrifies.” My honesty shocked both of us. Breathing hard, I asked, “Why do you want to hurt me, ma?tre?”

Q lashed out, slapping my cheek with a gentle palm. It didn’t hurt, but tears oozed beneath my blind fold. “I revoke your permission to speak.”

I hung my head, chastised. Guess, I wouldn’t know.