Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(85)

My heart sprouted wings, and flew. The build-up of the release rose and rose, never peaking. Fear laced with need. Too intense. I didn’t think I’d survive it.

The gag blocked air, and the lack of oxygen made my head swim. All I could think about was Q and his nails and his cock and his ragged breathing.

Q leaned back further, head falling as he f*cked impossibly harder. His hipbones bruised my inner thighs as he gave me the rampage I needed.

“Fuck, Tess. Fuck yes. Take it. Putain, ta chatte s'adapte à ma bite si bien.”Fuck, your cunt fits my cock so well.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold it any longer. My entire body split in half, but the release still didn’t crest.

Please, please, God. I need… I can’t. I… I…

“Look at me,” Q growl-panted.

I obeyed and drowned in his smouldering green. Tension thrummed, consuming, and another element stole us. We were no longer master and slave. We were two rutting animals focused on one goal.

“Master, please…” I begged around the material in my mouth.

Q stiffened with power, thrusting as his eyes flared wide and lips parted. “I’ll give you what you need.” His body convulsed and a low angry groan ripped from his throat. A hot pulse of semen filled and that was all I needed.

I combusted.

Every atom in my body detonated and fired. My * fisted around Q’s relentless erection and I screamed. Q’s mouth latched onto my neck, biting. I transcended from my mere mortal body, riding wave after wave of eye-popping, brain-splintering euphoria.

Q grunted, thrusting in time to my release; teeth never let up on my collarbone and a slick trail of blood trickled from my throat where he bit. Some primal part of my brain went wild. I loved that he needed me so bad, he broke my skin. I loved how delicate his tongue was, lapping up my essence.

I shuddered as swell after swell continued, slowly getting less intense. My feet cramped and my entire body felt as if I’d been run over.

With trembling fingers, Q undid my gag, then my wrists. Catching my weight, he cradled me, folding us the floor. We fell in a tangle of limbs onto the thick white carpet, covering it with sweat, come, and drops of blood.

Q didn’t withdraw, and somehow managed to twist me so I faced away. Not saying a word, he tucked me closer, spooning me with his hard body.

His heart thudded against my back, matching the erratic pace of mine.

I snuggled closer, blissfully content. Q hurt me, but adored me, all at the same time. He gave me everything I needed. The intimacy between us couldn’t be described and I shivered as he unclamped my nipples, rubbing them gently.

He sighed deeply and yawned. The alcohol in his system no doubt left him depleted.

You used me, but you kept me safe. I tried to transmit the thought. My body wasn’t capable of speech. Q mumbled something, pulling me closer.

The sun pinked the sky outside and Q twitched, already drifting into oblivion.

Tonight had changed my life. Q may make my soul weep and tear itself into pieces but he made it operatic with joy, too. My soul didn’t just sing, it rejoiced.

I finally found a place where my twistedness belonged.

In Q’s arms.





Pheasant



Pain and achiness woke me.

Memories of last night swirled, thick and fast. My body clenched, remembering Q’s rampant f*cking, his drunken ramblings about girls and winter. He gave clues; I just had to figure out the metaphors to understand.

And I wasn’t capable right now. My brain was sludge, body hissing with lashes and bruises. I felt used, abused, and entirely adored.

I shifted, trying to get comfortable. The thick carpet cushioned, but also tickled. Q moaned and held me tighter, a muscular arm banded around my stomach. Incredibly, he was still inside, flaccid but still big enough to be very aware of the intrusion.

I rocked my hips a little, trying to rouse him.

His breathing changed from deep to shallow. Slowly, he stiffened, filling me like a balloon, stretching until I ached with reminders of how hard he took me last night.

I bit my lip as his nose brushed aside tangled hair, kissing softly.

With a soft groan, he rocked.

My eyes closed as dexterous fingers captured my nipple, rolling tenderly. So different from the angry dominance from last night. Q wasn’t the one f*cking me this morning. It was Quincy.

I moaned, pushing back, matching his rock. We languished and delighted, not chasing a body-splitting orgasm, but more a gentle glow.

His hand trailed from breast to core, playing with my clit as the rock turned serious, claiming.

I whimpered as Q wrapped his leg around mine, trapping me. With the extra purchase, he thrust, pressing upward, hitting the top of my womb.

“I never thought I’d enjoy vanilla,” he mumbled into my hair.

I froze. What did he mean? He’d never shared intimacy before? The gentleness of sex compared to angry rutting?

His breathing caught, not noticing I’d withdrawn, trying to analyse what he meant. His fingers smeared my clit with wetness, rubbing erotically, giving me no choice but to pay attention.

“Come for me, esclave.” His order was breathless; his leg wrapped around mine, tensed.

He thrust harder, tainted with some of the violence I was used to from Q. Pinching my clit, he forced me to come. My body clenched and quivered, welcoming Q’s orgasm as he filled me with his seed. His soft moan sent my heart fluttering, and I smiled.