“Do you like the thought of having nowhere to run? Nowhere to hide, esclave?”
Slowly, ever so slowly, she put the harness to the side. Her nipples sprung to a peak beneath my white T-shirt she wore to bed. “I know I can’t run from you, Q. And I wouldn’t want to. Not truly.”
Her voice was breathy but tense, and instead of amping my lust, it dampened it. I froze as she reached for another item. Why exactly was I letting her see this? My hands itched to slam the lid and barricade her from ever looking again.
Tess pulled out a bright red ball gag, a vinyl bodysuit with only a mouth slit and an opening between the legs, and a bar with cuffs for wrists and ankles.
Each item Tess placed on the floor filled me with more and more repulsion. Laid by my feet was evidence of my true sickness. My needs transcended middle-class kink and verged on life-threatening. I didn’t want fake fear or tears. No. I wanted the whole damn truth. I wanted to possess and obsess and consume. I wanted to be the air that Tess breathed. I wanted to be the water she drank. Keeping her alive all while wanting to kill her.
I never spoke truer words to Tess before. I was totally and utterly exhausted.
Tess made a noise, dragging me from my thoughts. I flinched at the item in her grasp: a red leather bag. I lunged for it, just as Tess pulled the zipper.
She moved too fast, swiping it out of my reach. “Let me see.” Her tone bordered on angry and a plea. Such a sweet cocktail of sounds.
I nodded, backing away from the items in the bag. Items I really, really wanted to use at that moment.
Tess lifted out a pair of silver scissors, a small knife, and three crystal vials. She didn’t bother pulling out the suction syringe I knew was in there to collect blood.
She rocked on her heels, pinning me with her grey stare. “I always wondered why you ruined so many of my clothes. You could’ve demanded I strip, but you always preferred to cut them, or burn, or tear. Is it because you secretly want to do that to my body? Tear me apart? Flay me? See my blood running like a river?”
I shut my eyes. I couldn’t handle the image she painted. The image I wanted. So. Fucking. Much.
Tess grabbed my ankle, pulling herself up my mostly naked form until she stood before me. Her warmth seeped into mine, and I wondered what would happen if I reached for her to give her something as simple as a hug: a show of tenderness, of sweet emotion. Could I survive it or would I crush her, squeeze her—go too far like I did every time?
Tess answered for me. She pressed a flogger into my grip. “You’re wrong to think your box of horrors scares me. It doesn’t.”
My eyes, heavy with regret and self-loathing, opened to drown in hers. She was so close, the swirls of blue and grey in her irises looked like angry seas. I tried to decipher the fear, stubbornness, and lust in her soul.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You need to talk to me. You can’t keep secrets, maître. Not anymore. I won’t let you.” Stepping back, she ripped my T-shirt over her head, standing before me naked. With the courage of a warrioress, she pinched the white flesh of her lower abdomen. “Here. I want you to scar me here. Mark me if it will make you feel better. I want you to accept what I’m giving you. I want you to embrace it.”
I threw the flogger down. She didn’t offer me her body. She offered insanity. I wasn’t man enough for her, but I sure as hell had enough beast inside. But the man was a coward. I refused to drop the walls and let myself be fully free—no matter what promises Tess made me say. Scar her? Didn’t she know I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop at one?
I touched her taut belly with a fingertip. So smooth, so silky, so feminine. Tess panted softly, and her breasts rose and fell, teasing me, making me lose all inhibitions. Only she could spin this sort of web around me. Only she could make me so fucked up and confused.
Cupping her breast, I pinched her nipple, hard. No gentle foreplay, just a possessive clinch. Her head fell forward, resting on my chest. Her scent of orchids and frost was the last of my undoing.
I gave up.
I gave in.
I wanted, and I wouldn’t stop.
I’d been going around in circles, letting my thoughts tangle and trip. Now, I was clearheaded and eager. Eager to embrace the role of hurtful, insatiable master.
My hand trailed from her breast up her neck and captured her throat. Wrenching her head back, I met her turbulent eyes with mine. Anger blazed through me. “You couldn’t just give me time, could you, esclave? Now I’m pissed and angry, and I don’t know the limits of my control. I’ve given in and nothing else matters but fucking you.” I shook her, tightening my fingers around her neck.
She didn’t move, her arms stayed by her sides, and she let me throttle her. I tested her, noosing my fingers until the yielding, fragile muscles in her neck made my head swim with delirium.
Tess did nothing.
Forcing my fingers to loosen, I frowned. “Do you trust me not to go too far? Are you really that stupid?”
One hand flew to cover mine, but she didn’t tug or try to get me to release her. Her other palm rested on my unshaven cheek, jolting me with a dose of unconditional acceptance, need, want, and everything else that lived between us.
Shit, I’m lucky. And so unworthy.
“I promised you I would fight. I’m not stupid enough to relinquish myself into your control completely, Q. But I do trust that I know your limits even more than you do. I trust you…here.”
She dropped her hand to rest above my heart. It raced and pumped like a demon thing, bucking beneath her touch. “Let yourself feel. Let yourself accept. You’re more human than you want to believe.”
The softness in her tone enraged me. I didn’t let myself consider the truth; I kissed her instead.
I captured her mouth like she was the last woman on earth. The only woman for me. My tongue speared through her soft, sweet lips, and I took and took and took. I stole her taste, her breath. I forced her to accept every inch of need from my tongue to hers.
She moaned, pressing hard against me, dragging more from me until I couldn’t tell where her lips began and mine ended.
My fingers tightened on their own accord, searching for the sweet surrender, the ultimate control. I kissed her while choking her until her legs wobbled, and I caught her as she buckled completely.
The knowledge she let me bring her to the point of such weakness made my heart swell until it no longer fit in my ribcage. I didn’t think I’d find anything as satisfying as causing pain, but the complete submission and trust was the ultimate aphrodisiac.
Releasing her, I scooped up her limp body and carried her across the room. Past the fireplace, away from the chains in the ceiling where I’d strung her up the first time, heading toward the back of the tower.
Tess blinked, foggy from lack of oxygen. “Where are we going?”
Gulping a deep breath, completely at the mercy of my throbbing cock and thick desire, I repositioned Tess in my arms to pull at the thick velvet curtain to the left of the massive turret window.
The dark green material slithered off, landing in a puddle like a melted forest.
Tess gasped and snuggled closer, gaping at the human-sized cross. Its well-oiled dark wood and bright red leather restraints appeared medieval and terrifying. Apparatus such as these had been used to flay a man alive or strip him limb from limb. It was barbaric. It was horrific. It was delicious.
Tess would be completely restrained. Completely at my mercy. Completely mine.
She moaned and shivered, sending shockwaves of need through my limbs. My voice dripped with blackness.
“It’s time you began your initiation into my world, esclave.”
Chapter Two
Tess
I relish the snap, welcome the burn, don’t stop yet it’s still my turn.
Tighten your grip, make me bleed, this is a hunger I need to feed...
Two emotions battled within me: uncertainty and excitement. I won the battle I’d been fighting for four days: I made
Q give in. But at what cost? I could no longer read his body—he was wound too tightly, bristling with lust. His pale jade eyes unreadable, shuttered against anything but the burn of dominance.
Staring at the cross, everything slowed to a standstill. Life paused, and I stood in a little bubble of reflection. My initiation into his mysterious world had started, and I teetered on the threshold, wondering if I’d ever see light again.
My throat ached from where he’d held me. His large hand had crushed my windpipe and the urge to scratch him, fight until he let go had been unbearable. But somehow, I knew Q needed to be taught the most important factor of any relationship. He had to learn that for any sort of love to grow between us, it needed a firm foundation to last. A foundation based on unshakable trust and faith in each other.
I said I trusted Q. I didn’t. Not yet. And I was damn sure he didn’t trust me. We both fumbled in the dark, trying to figure out the rules of our connection, and until we learned to read and believe in each other, we were doomed.
My fingertips touched my bruised neck; I winced as I swallowed. The ache was a justified experiment to see just how far Q would go. I’d been one heartbeat from unconsciousness, but he hadn’t pushed me over the edge.
I allowed my faith in him to evolve just a little.
Q shifted beside me, watching my fingers stroking my throat. His eyes flashed with shame and remorse before being swallowed by blazing heat and darkness. “I won’t apologise for hurting you. You provoked me. Je ne peux pas me priver si longtemps.” I can only deny myself for so long.
My body reacted; melting, loosening, preparing to accept his body into mine. Q’s eyes acted as an accelerant to the slow burn in my belly and it spread like a holocaust, turning my insides to ash. “I don’t expect an apology,” I whispered.
“Good.” He cupped my cheek. It would’ve been a tender move, but with Q it still seethed with silent rage.
I held my ground as Q looped his finger behind my ear, securing a lock of escaped hair. Shivering, I looked into his gaze. Stared deep into the heart of the monster I’d chosen over a sweet boy like Brax.
Where Brax was the sun, Q was the endless sucking void of space. A black-hole full of mystery and hidden worlds. My eyes skittered to the cross. Am I in for a world of pain? Had Q finally snapped beyond all control?
The inception into his world meant I had a lot to learn. How brave could I be and how strong was my pain threshold?
“I’ve been stupid, maître.” My eyes dropped to his lips. They were wet from his tongue, making my mouth water at the thought of kissing him again.
His hand dropped from my ear, grazing my nipple on the way down. I flinched, and my pussy clenched at the innocuous touch.
“You have been stupid. Courageously stupid, esclave.”
I nodded, my breathing shallow as Q dropped his head and kissed my lips whisper-softly. I swooned into him, desperate to sling my arms around his neck and press my breasts against his strength. Some basic part of me, the unthinking but all-sensing part, knew I had to break Q completely before he could embrace the softer side of what we could have.
He was afraid.
But afraid of what? Maybe because he’d never had a bond like this before. Maybe he truly believed he was the devil and incapable of true love. But I wouldn’t give up on him.
Q deepened the kiss, and I moaned. Throwing my arms around his neck, I jerked him closer. He grunted, steadying us on the wooden cross behind me. Then his hands captured my wrists and removed them forcibly from around his neck.
“You know you’re stupid, and yet you continue to push me. Would you try to stroke a panther when it’s hunting? Non, parce que la mort te trouverait rapidement.” No, because death would find you swiftly. His words were clipped as bullets.
Images of predators and killing and blood saturated my mind.
Q was born into darkness, created by circumstances he wouldn’t share with me, but if any one of us was damaged, it was him. I wanted him to no longer fear himself. He no longer had to be alone.
With my wrists cuffed in his fingers, I said, “Do you want to know what I thought when I returned to you. The promise I made to myself?”
Q froze, nostrils flaring.
I took his silence as approval and continued, “I said I’d fight for you. That you deserved to be fought for. I didn’t know then, and I still don’t know what I need to finally get through to you—” I leaned forward, trying to get close enough to kiss him. He stiffened and his hold gave no room for movement. “—but I’ll never stop. I was right. You’re worth every fight. Every argument and bump in the road. I’ll fight because I’m falling for you, Q.”
How could I not fall for this man? This complex, emotionally tangled man. The saver of slaves and property tycoon. Q was all my nightmares, fantasies, and needs rolled into one bestial package. He was my drug of choice and I’d been craving him for four long days.
“Don’t fall for me.” He grabbed my shoulders. His touch was hot and his fingertips branded me with force. “I can’t be responsible for that.”
My heart beat too fast as I breathed in his scent of sandalwood and citrus. His body was so close, it befuddled me with lust and toe-curling need.
“Be responsible for what?” I took a risk, ducking my head to kiss him on his forearm. The corded muscle leapt beneath my lips, and he let go as if I’d bitten him.
“I’m sure to break other parts of you, but I don’t want the curse of breaking your heart.”
“You can’t break something that is freely given.” A small part of me wanted him to say he’d treasure it, guard it, and nurture it forever, but that softness wasn’t there yet.
He struggled every day with my demands and expectations. I knew he did. I saw it in his eyes, the way he watched me with a mixture of awe and annoyance, even a touch of fear. One moment he’d answer my seemingly harmless question, the next he’d shut me out as easily as a storm cloud swallows the moon.
Every day I kept prying, kept prodding. Being a pest and a nuisance, waiting for the day when his self-control snapped and tore me into pieces.
“Enough,” Q roared. His chest strained as he pushed me hard against the cross. My back crashed against the eerily warm wood. I flinched as Q pressed his long frame against mine, sandwiching me completely. “Now is not the time to talk about hearts and falling, esclave. Now is the time for pain and fucking. See how the two don’t mix?”
He pushed off, swiping his face with an angry palm. “I’m tired. Too tired to keep fighting. I want you. I’ve wanted to make you scream for four fucking long days. I tried to behave. I tried to stop the darkness, but you just wouldn’t let it go. And now it’s my turn. You’re going to give me what I want. Take this obsessive sick need from me and help grant me a reprieve.”
Something black gleamed over the pale green of Q’s eyes. Something I’d only seen flickers of. Something that terrified as much as enthralled me.
“Not another word, or I’ll use the ball gag. I only want moans and my name on your lips when I come deep inside you. Understand?” He breathed hard, and the tip of his cock nudged at the waistband of his boxer-briefs, excessively hard and calling to me like an addiction.
I’d never felt more alive or more frightened.
“I understand, maître,” I whispered.
My voice was the starting gun. Q gritted his teeth, visibly shuddering. All along he’d been searching for my permission—whether he knew it or not. He shed the angry tension and relaxed, transforming into a composed master.
I waited for him to buckle the myriad of straps around me, but he paused.
Waited and watched.
Breathed and deliberated.
Then he lurched forward; his mouth crushed mine. My neck protested from where he’d strangled me and I couldn’t breathe as his tongue darted past the seam of my lips and took. My God, he fucking took. He demanded and cajoled with every twist of his tongue. Every lick and sweep.
The kiss held fury and promise
s. His lips spoke how much he already cared for me, all the while trying to eat me alive.
With unrestrained hands, I let myself do what I’d wanted for so long. I allowed myself to touch him. My arms flew up and my fingers swept through his thick, short hair.
He moaned as I dug nails deep, remembering his migraine and how he let me massage him back to health. How, by letting me tend to him, my emotions blossomed and grew. I’d been a slave—a possession—then. Now, I belonged. I was truly his, but only because I chose it.
I’d found where I belonged. I was done fighting my desires. Q was everything I wanted and more.
Running my hands down his scalp, I captured the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His taut body landed on mine with a heavy lurch, pressing me hard against the cross. His mouth bruised mine as our lips melded and clashed against each other.
Spearing my tongue with his, I battled his taste until we were both heaving and clawing at each other. I lost sense of how hard I scratched his neck and shoulders. I lost sensation of how hard his fingers dug into my hips. Nothing existed but our kiss.
Sharp, sweet pain made me gasp. My eyes watered as Q pulled back, licking his lips free from a small trace of accusing red.
“You bit me,” I panted.
I opened my mouth and ran a fingertip over my already swelling tongue. Metallic blood pooled just a little; I swallowed.
He stared at me unrepentant, eyes glassy with lust. “I couldn’t stop it. I had to taste you.” His throat rippled as he swallowed, taking some part of me deep into him.
My thoughts raced. Even though Q was so hard to read, I began to see his true depth of need. His need for scars and blood and primal connection. He wasn’t faking it. It wasn’t about the kink or whipping. It was purely about opening me up, cracking open my very existence, and possessing me.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it scared me. I liked pain. I loved the taboo line of pleasure in accepting a whip’s kiss or a flogger’s smack—subservient entirely to my master’s whim. But I wasn’t ready to die.
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