Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(65)

Q grabbed me tighter, murmuring, “You’re mine, esclave. Mine to care for. Mine to fix. I’ll allow you to cry while I wash you, but the moment you’re clean, you’re to stop. Do you understand?”

I blinked through tears, shuddering so badly I couldn’t answer.

“Everything about tonight will be forgotten, and you’ll only remember what I do to you. Is that clear?” He shook me. “Answer me.”

I nodded. There was relief in being ordered to forget and I would obey.

I’d never been able to see love. I knew what it felt like, how it hurt as well as healed, but until that moment, I didn’t know what physical form it took. Now, I did. It was a swirling world inside me, interlocked with the swirling world inside Q. Our two dimensions superseded our bodies and existed not in us but between us.

It was knowledge.

The knowledge I’d be there for him, and he’d be there for me.

It was blissful comprehension of never being alone and always cared for.

“I love you, Q.” I couldn’t hold back the tears this time, completely overwhelmed with gratefulness. “You truly are my master. Not because of the power you have over me, but because of the power you give me.”

Q’s fingers twitched in my hair; his chest rose and fell, sticking to my back. His heartbeat thudded, and I knew I wouldn’t have one lifetime with this man—I would have multiple. I refused to believe death would tear us apart. He was me as I was him. There would be no separating us.

Q dropped his hands from my hair, wrapping his arms around me. So much was promised in that embrace. So much exchanged and acknowledged.

I missed you.

I know.

I’m so sorry.

Don’t be.

We’re not broken anymore.

He hugged me as if I’d float away and only remained locked to him by force.

“I missed your fight, mon coeur.” My heart, he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss on my temple.

“I’m not afraid of fighting back anymore,” I said softly, immersed in his incredible warmth.

“I’m glad.” With a fierce squeeze, he let me go, returning his hands to my head. We stayed silent as he massaged more bubbles through my curls, before pushing my slippery body down his.

Once upon a time, I would’ve fought at the thought of being pushed under water, but now…I didn’t care.

“Do you trust me, esclave?”

“Forever.”

I let him push me under, holding my breath while his worshipping fingers washed the suds from my hair. I was aware of every touch, every inch of him. I was nothing but a ball of oversensitive nerve endings.

Once the bubbles were gone, Q hoisted me up his body, dragging me along his very hot, very hard erection.

I want him. Completely. No holding back.

The thought whizzed around my body, spreading eagerness and courage. I wanted Q to take me like he’d always wanted. I was no longer afraid. He wouldn’t go too far because I understood what lurked beneath all his darkness.

Ownership. He wanted to brand me, mark me—all in the name of claiming. But he already owned me completely—he no longer needed to compete for that right.

Shifting, I reached behind and wrapped my fingers around him. He jerked in my touch, blood throbbing beneath the velvety skin. He felt hotter than usual as if he’d bruised himself, aching with injury.

Q sucked in a breath, pressing my hips to collide harder with him. He drove up against my back, rubbing himself in my fist. “Fuck…” His teeth sank into my shoulder.

Pain.

My heart raced at the sharpness but there was nothing else.

No fear.

No guilt.

No other thoughts than pleasure.

The past was dealt with. Finished. The lost parts of me were fixed and out of the wrapping new. The allure of painful excitement existed once again in my heart, and I wanted nothing more than for Q to deliver.

There was no guilt to wade through. No tears at the memory of Blonde Angel or Hummingbird. My grief for them was as it should be: respectful, mournful, but not life-consuming terrible.

I wanted the taboo.

I craved the forbidden.

I panted for the prohibited.

Q thrust up, dragging me from my thoughts. The purple haze was back along with the consuming need to connect.

I wanted him. No walls or cages or second thoughts. Him. All of him.

“I’m ready,” I whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

Q shook his head, grinding his cock into my tight fingers. “Don’t say things like that. Things you don’t mean.”

I wished he could see into my heart—hear the truth resonating off its walls. “I do mean it. I’m ready and willing and oh so terribly wanting.”

He froze. Sucking in a breath, he didn’t say a word, as if he couldn’t understand what I offered.

Q had healed me. It was time for me to heal him.

Convince him.

While Q stayed immobile and silent, I murmured, “I want your belts and whips. I want your nails and teeth.” Twisting in his arms, I lay on top of him, belly to belly, chest to chest. I locked eyes with his.

He seemed lost, bewildered, completely bewitched. “I mean it, Q. Everything. All of it.”

His face slowly evolved from unreadable to suspicious to hopeful. His eyes tightened, shadowed with apprehension. “Are you sure?” he croaked. Clearing his throat, he added, “I never want to hurt you again. I told you that. Why would you ask for it when I already said you don’t have to give me something you don’t want to give.”