Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(77)

Q fumbled with the carabiner behind, untethering me from the chain. My weight shifted from ceiling to being crushed against the earth on lust-laden limbs. The moment I was free, Q spun me around, backing me up against the wall.

My shoulders slammed against the surface. I didn’t have time to breathe as he picked up a knife from a table close by.

My mouth went terribly dry.

His eyes were luminous, burning a path right to my soul. Hooking a fingertip under one of the knots, Q sliced it with a flick of his wrist.

We didn’t say a word as he cut off every loop and fetter. My heart bounced. I was empty without him. My eyes kept drifting to his glistening hard cock, wishing he would enter me again.

When the final rope fell away, we locked gazes.

Time stood still as we stared and stared and made promises and told stories and weaved our souls ever tighter together.

Q broke the spell, dragging a rough thumb over my lips. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

My body went heavy. I knew what he wanted.

Desire. Thick craving desire.

My eyes widened. Holy hell, I want it, too. Badly.

My eyes fell to the faded scar where he’d nicked just below his nipple the night in the carousel room. He’d let me suckle. He’d let me taste everything that he was.

Q smiled softly, keeping eye contact as he positioned the sharp blade over the scar and re-opened it with a shallow slice. The black ooze of blood in the dark sent my soul ricocheting around my body. It wasn’t right. It was so, so wrong.

But f*ck, I wanted to taste.

My gaze glued to the trickle of blood. My mouth fell open as Q grabbed my waist, hoisted me up, and slid inside in one effortless move. His hands held me tight while I wrapped my legs around his hips, imprisoning him.

His eyes glazed, thrusting upward, filling me impossibly deep. “Take me,” he whispered, leaning back.

I couldn’t say a word as I curled into him, pressing my mouth against his chest. My tongue came out and ever so gently lapped his wound.

The instant the sharp metallicness of his blood hit my tastebuds, everything rewound, imploded, exploded, detonated—existed no more.

Everything was inconsequential compared to this man. I couldn’t let the past steal my future. I couldn’t let what I’d done fog my happiness. And I couldn’t, under any circumstance, let Leather Jacket and White Man steal my joy of pain.

I would never run again. I would never hide again. I would never fear Q’s delectable punishment.

I was home.

I’d been so caught up in his taste, I didn’t feel Q’s assault on my body. I returned to reality with a slam. Q’s face was tight, his hips pounding into me with rhythmic pulses, driving himself closer and closer to the end.

His teeth were bared. He looked strong and real and entirely dangerous.

My back bowed as he thrust harder, harder. I loved his possession—found ultimate bliss in his arms.

“I have to…Tess. Forgive me.” I cried out as his mouth latched onto my shoulder, the sharp puncture of teeth breaking my skin. He sucked deep, dragging my own essence into him.

It was the most basic of us. The life-force in our veins. The neural highway where our soul swam and gave animation to lifeless bodies. By drinking me, he not only took my body, but also my soul in liquid form.

An orgasm spiralled from nowhere. Spurred not from the exquisite joy of having Q inside me—but from the joy at knowing I belonged.

It wasn’t a body orgasm. It was more than that.

It was a soul orgasm.

Q braced himself, spreading his legs to thrust harder. My back bruised, my breasts jiggled, and I threw myself into the brightest, sharpest release yet. The orgasm started thorny and almost unwilling, but Q relentlessly pursued it.

Another thrust and I came.

It split me in two.

My legs squeezed my master until he grunted with pain. I relished in the power rippling down his back before he followed me into heaven.

The first spurt matched my release perfectly and with pristine synchronicity we found our breathless ending.

We transcended simple life.

We shared absolutely everything.

We slithered down the wall to land in a tangle of sweaty-sated limbs.

With our bodies wrapped together, we lay happily in the dark.





Master and slave, owner and owned, you sate my need and feed me

We are blood of blood, echoing heartbeat and answering breath; nothing can break us, not even death



I wish people knew.

I wish more people realized this gift.

You changed my world, Q. You sheltered, protected, and avenged me—but even that wasn’t enough to bring me back to life. My heart hurts to think of others who’ve lived what I lived. Other survivors who had to return home and pretend.

Pretend time healed them. Lie that they’re better. Hide that the nightmares haven’t stolen their sanity.

Everyone needs a Q.

Everyone needs to learn the lesson you taught me.

Pain is therapy. Pain is healing. Pain is the only thing that purges.

I’m not doing a good job at writing this down, but after yesterday, I have to try. I have to get my jumbled thoughts on paper—if only to show you how much I love you. To let you witness how much you saved me by being you.

I don’t think you’ll ever understand how indebted I’ll always be to you. Q—you own me, not because I love you, but because you…you’re my—let me see if I can explain.