Then he came.
“Fuck…” he snarled, spurting down the back of my throat, cascading warm and salty on my tongue. Wave after wave I swallowed, and still he kept coming. I choked and he pulled out, fisting himself.
With angry strokes, he milked the last of his orgasm, panting as he kept spurting, dousing me in white sticky droplets all over my breasts.
The picture of Q towering over me, his face furious and red while eyes blazed with his release, was a sight to behold. I wanted to capture the moment, sear it on my brain, remember the ink of his tattoo, the musky taste of him in my mouth, and the knowledge I drove him to break.
With shaking hands, I unravelled my hair from around my throat, and removed as much spit as I could.
My entire mouth ached, and my pussy felt wronged—slighted for not being fucked and given the same sort of release Q experienced.
Taking gulping breaths, Q smeared a droplet of warm come over my nipple.
Instantly the orgasm blazed alive again, sparking, begging, setting my teeth on edge. Please put me out of my misery.
Never taking his eyes off mine, Q reached under my arms and helped me stand on unsteady legs. His face shut down, unreadable.
“Do you need me, Tess?”
I jolted with the power and ragged sex appeal in his voice. My eyes fluttered, needing to close; I was drunk on the need to come.
I nodded fretfully.
He ducked, so we were almost eye level. “Do you need my tongue on your cunt to come?”
My eyes snapped shut, battered by the image of Q licking me, biting me, making me unravel. “Yes,” I moaned.
His fingers caressed my other breast, giving it the same treatment as the first. “Will you walk around in constant agony if I don’t fuck you?” His thumb and forefinger pinched my nipple, sending waves of need through my belly to my core.
Anger rose again. What the hell was he playing at? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. “You know I will.”
He grabbed my breast hard, making me groan and shudder. I swayed toward him, trying to touch his still hard cock. If only he’d let me use it. He wouldn’t have to do anything. I could ride him to satisfaction.
But his voice was a whiplash. “Don’t touch me.”
Shock wrenched my eyes wide; my skin flushed with embarrassment and hurt. I looked deep into his gaze, searching for the reason of his denial.
He shook his head. “You broke a cardinal rule. You disobeyed me.” His back was ramrod straight, shoulders tight and tense. “You took away my control, esclave, and that’s something you just don’t do. Making me lose it is the worst kind of disobedience. You rushed me. You took what wasn’t yours to have.” His tone shimmered with warning. “I told you I wouldn’t be responsible if you didn’t do as I said.”
I gulped. I couldn’t handle another session on the cross, not unless I came first. My mind was scrambled. I needed to relax, unwind, and save my sanity.
He ran a thumb over my bottom lip, trembling with control. “Your punishment isn’t whips or chains or any other torture you seem to enjoy.”
I couldn’t stand it. I had to know. “What do you intend to do?”
Q smiled. He was two sides of a coin—one moment remorseful, the next revengeful. “I intend to do nothing.” Pressing his hand between my legs, he speared two fingers deep.
My forehead crashed against his chest as I buckled in his arms. My hips moved on his hand, my breathing quickened as my orgasm built super-sonically fast.
Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean. I stood wobbling, a throbbing mass of nerve endings.
“If you pleasure yourself, I will know. If you come before I say you will, I’ll deny you pleasure for a month. You’re to stay on edge until I give you permission.” He bent to kiss my cheek so tenderly. “Only then will I fuck you like you want to be fucked. Only then will I let you scream my name.”
The sentence was torture. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I reached to grab Q’s hand. “Please.” I shook my head. “Q, please. I’ll do anything you want.”
He smiled softly, running his fingers through my hair, fanning it out like a blonde curtain over my shoulders. “Don’t do it again, Tess, that’s what I want from you.”
“I promise. Cross my heart. Never.” I tried to capture his cock, but he sidestepped me, heading toward the bathroom. “Remember you brought this on yourself. Get dressed. We’re late.”
Surprise made my voice squeak. “Late for what?”
Q chuckled before disappearing into the bathroom. “We’re going to work. I told you I wanted you to work with me. Today is that day.”
Chapter Three
Quincy
You’re my obsession, I’m your possession,
you own the deepest part of me…
I ran.
I ran away like a fucking girl. My body felt foreign—thick, sated, but angst ridden and ferocious. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to scream at Tess for what she did. I wanted to attack anyone stupid enough to come within grabbing distance. I had to get the hell out of there.
She forced me.
She made me lose control.
I never lost control.
Slamming the bathroom door, I stalked to the black twin-sink vanity and put my hands on either side of a basin. Bowing over, I sucked in ragged breaths, trying to calm the rapid tempo of my heart.
My cock still seeped even after blowing two loads in one. I almost drowned her when I exploded down her throat. It wasn’t satisfied. I wasn’t satisfied. I was a lot of things, but satisfied didn’t come fucking close.
The instant I thought about her touch, her fingers pressing so hard between my fucking legs, my stomach trembled and my cock—the bastard—grew thick and heavy.
Never before had a woman stolen what was singularly mine. Never before had someone made me come before I was ready. They knew better than to be so bold.
Tess knew better, yet she didn’t give me a choice.
My eyes squeezed shut, and all I could see was a replay.
Her hair was spun gold between my fingers as I guided her mouth over my cock. Her warm, wet lips sealed around me, my back tinged with fireworks, and my balls tightened painfully.
The rope of hair strangled her little by little and I waited for her to gag and pull away; to glare at me with accusing blue eyes and refuse to pleasure me.
But she didn’t.
She leaned further, strangling faster. Her mouth filled with delicious lubrication and she added the sharp thrill of teeth.
Everything she did was perfect, and my orgasm started slow and promising. Then she ruined it by shoving her hand behind my balls and finding that fucking spot that turned me to mush.
I flinched when her hand went where no one had touched before. Her fingertips pressed up, rubbing me directly into torment.
My orgasm shifted gears from slow to ultrasonic. Merde, it felt amazing. Beyond amazing—body-shattering, mind-blazing, backbreaking.
I jerked away, digging my toes into the carpet, trying to hold off the release, but she moved with me. She didn’t let me go. Her goddamn hand stayed pulsing, rocking, and her mouth became the perfect vessel to unload into.
My thoughts turned into one long stream of curses as I battled two conflicting emotions.
Lust.
Terror.
Lust because she drove me fucking insane. I forgot who I was. I forgot why I had to stay in control. I forgot everything but grabbing her head and making her swallow my come.
Terror because the walls between me and the beast were obliterated. Extinguished by a fragile girl bent between my legs. No one was safe when that happened.
I opened my eyes, glowering at myself in the mirror. You’re a bastard, Mercer.
I should head right back into the bedroom and order Tess to spread her sexy little legs and plunge deep inside her. She’d almost cried when I denied her. It was a cunt move to let her stay on the edge after she gave me the best orgasm of my life, but I was pissed.
Beyond pissed. Confused.
My fingers clawed the marble countertop, and I fought the other emotion I tried hard not to acknowledge.
Resentment.
Resentment toward Tess, but mainly toward myself. I couldn’t stop it. All my life, I prided myself on having ultimate control over my body, over my thoughts and needs. But in one move, Tess shredded those conceptions, annihilated my prized restraint, and turned me into a fucking Neanderthal.
She stole my control and instead of fighting it, I relinquished myself into her touch, allowed her to spell me, trap me; allowed my body to rule my mind.
How could I ever trust myself again?
I sighed, turning around to enter the black marble shower. The surfaces were so highly polished my reflection stared back at me.
Haunted.
My eyes were haunted, and the truth of why I was so angry shone bright. Tess drew more than just come from me, she took an element of dominance, and if I was honest, I hated it.
Wrenching on the shower, I flinched as cold droplets turned instantly hot. The pinpricks of heat helped leech away my rolling emotions, and I grabbed the soap to lather on my chest.
Memories of taking Tess in the shower the very first time sprang to mind as I dropped my hands to spread bubbles onto my cock. She’d been so hurt and mentally ruined from the rape. But I liked to think my untraditional way of replacing the memory with myself helped remove the pain and shock from her eyes.
Water sluiced away the remainder of Tess’s spit, and I groaned when I squeezed a tad too hard.
Gritting my teeth, I stroked again. Angry, violent strokes—taking punishment out on the part of my body that failed to obey.
I wanted more. I wanted to drive deep inside her and make her promise never to make me feel so controlled again. She made me feel…weak. Not the man I knew. It made me soft, and I’d never had a soft moment in my life.
My hand worked harder, gripping too tight until the head of my cock throbbed. Spreading my legs, I settled in for a quick release, but I paused.
This wasn’t fair. Why should I get to come again, when Tess is probably living a nightmare right now?
It took discipline and a tight jaw, but I uncurled my fist and let my cock free. My muscles bunched tight, and no matter how long I stayed in the shower, I couldn’t relax.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I strode from my bedroom dressed in a dark grey suit. The sombre colour reflected my mood perfectly: tense, horny, and entirely fucked up over a woman who had me by the balls. Literally.
Stalking through my home, I found Tess in the carousel room where I’d put her after the horrible incident with Lefebvre. The clothes I’d bought her remained down here. We hadn’t made the move to relocate her to my bedroom. That final step toward admitting our lives were merging together hadn’t been taken yet, and I didn’t know if I was thankful or annoyed.
Tess sat on the end of the bed, rolling pantyhose over her smooth skin, snapping it into place with a lacy garter belt peeking from beneath a tight skirt. She’d gathered it around her hips, so it looked more like a belt, and fuck, I wanted to rip it off her.
Tess was right about me enjoying ripping her clothes. It was a symbol. A way to tear and destroy without killing her.
She looked up and jumped straight to her feet, holding her chest. The perfectly cut blazer hugged her curves while the flimsy cream shirt underneath showed shadows of skin and bra.
My mouth watered; I swallowed hard against the urge to throw her over my shoulder and cart her back upstairs. Screw punishing her. It was fucking punishing me, too, and I’d had enough for one morning.
“Q. Crap, you scared the bejesus out of me.” She rolled her shoulders, shedding the shock in her eyes, replacing it with interest and attraction. “I’ll never get used to you moving so silently. You’re like a freaking ghost.”
I gave a rueful smile. “My silence comes in handy when I want to be unheard.” I stepped toward her, already sporting a rock-hard erection. “I like watching you while you think you’re alone.”
She bit her lip, prickling with energy. Her eyes locked onto my lips and I threw caution and resentment and every other fucked-up emotion I felt out the goddamn window.
I grabbed her by the back of the neck, jerking her toward me.
She gasped; her hands came up to steady herself on my chest. My skin electrified beneath her touch. I growled, “Turns out I’m punishing myself by punishing you.” I ran my tongue over her bottom lip, nipping at her, teasing her. “I don’t like it.”
She sighed, pressing herself hard against me. She trembled as she rocked her hips against my leg. “Does this mean you’ll let me come?” Her voice was a thread, aching with need.
I picked her up to throw her on the bed. I couldn’t think straight; all I wanted was her pussy around my cock.
“Merde. Je suis désolé!” I’m sorry.
Tess froze in my arms, looking over my shoulder toward the open door. An embarrassed smile bloomed on her face; her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Morning, Suzette.”
I groaned. That woman had the worst fucking timing in the world. I let Tess down, dragging out the moment, slinking her over my body.
She tried to stay composed in front of the staff, but her heartbeat thrummed in her neck and my eyes latched onto the small bite I’d given her. Her skin slightly shadowed from my ungentle fingers.
The moment Tess stood on her feet, I spun to face Suzette with eyes narrowed and frustration darkening my voice. “Qu'est ce qu’il y a?” What is it?
She ducked her head, smiling shyly at Tess behind me. Damn the sisterhood bond they had going on. I liked that Tess had friends. I liked that my staff loved her. But I didn’t like being the third wheel, the one they’d talk about the moment I was out of earshot.
“The helicopter is waiting to depart. The captain asked me to come and find you. You missed takeoff over an hour ago.”
Pushing up my cuff, I checked my Rolex—the same Rolex I stole from my father after I shot him in the head. Shit, I’d missed a morning meeting, too.
“Tell him we’ll depart in fifteen minutes,” I ordered, falling into hard-assed CEO mode.
Suzette scurried off, and I spun to face Tess. I couldn’t stand to be around her; the need to molest her was too strong. Swallowing the urge, I pointed at the bite on her neck. “Cover that. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”
And I ran again. Like a fucking pussy.
* * *
I found the one I searched for in the reading nook on the second-floor landing. It overlooked the foyer, bright and airy—it was the perfect illusion of ultimate freedom, all the while remaining in the house.
“Morning, Sephena.”
She flinched, hugging the latest fashion magazine to her chest and cowering in the chair. Her knee bones jutted starkly under the jeans I’d bought for her, and she refused to wear anything but baggy sweaters that hid her gaunt frame.
My hands curled into fists as anger seeped into me. The night Franco brought Sephena here she’d been dressed in a bikini that wrapped around her body like an Egyptian mummy. The sick bastards who sold her liked to unwind her, make her dizzy, poke and prod until she was naked and forced to do God knows what.
“Morning, sir.” Her timid voice never rose past a whisper. She refused to make eye contact with me, preferring to dog-ear the corner of the magazine and hunch into a ball.
I hated the stench of fear, appalled by her destroyed soul and beaten body. The beast in me tucked its tail between its legs when faced with prey that was already broken beyond repair.
Damaged girls brought out the need to protect them from harm, but they also turned me off completely. I waged with wanting to save them and wanting to kill them just to put them out of their misery.
I stayed my distance, heading to the banister to give her some space. “Did you want me to call your husband? I’m sure he’d love to talk to you.”
She shook her head violently, sending matt
ed brown hair all around her face. Tears spilled instantly, tracking down her cheeks. “No! I can’t. He can’t see me like this. I can’t. No… Please, don’t make me.”
I held up my hand, fighting the urge to run from such desperation. I couldn’t run from this. This was the reason I existed. My one redeeming quality to make up for the evilness living in me. “You can stay here as long as you need. However, he does know you’re here.”
I called him the moment I learned her identity. The local police located her loved ones through a missing persons search. Sephena had been stolen from her husband while on their honeymoon in Greece.
Three fucking years she belonged to a whorehouse for upmarket businessmen. A place where no questions were asked, any freakish perversion was permitted, and all lips were sealed.
Sephena sat with tears dripping into her lap. In a horrible daydream, she morphed into Tess. Broken, undernourished, and shattered beyond my reach. The thought of Tess ever being that way choked my heart with such fear I couldn’t breathe.
Tess will never be like Sephena. Tess is mine. I’ll protect her forever.
I needed to leave. “If you want anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I won’t rush you to talk to your husband, but soon you’ll have to face your past and move on if you want to have any chance of happiness. You need those who love you, not to stay hidden in a rambling house like this.” I gave her a soft smile and descended the stairs.
My thoughts turned to Tess. She would work for me and it would be a relief of sorts. It would be good to have a diplomatic relationship. Purely business. I wouldn’t be able to touch her. She’d be my employee—completely off-limits.
Maybe then my brain would finally see her as something other than a strong-willed woman who I longed to break. Maybe I could force myself to change by acknowledging she was my equal.
You’ll still want her blood, you bastard.
I sighed heavily.
Even if we did work harmoniously together, it meant a whole other issue of office gossip. How would I ever explain to my staff why the woman I lived with couldn’t sit down without wincing, or why she had to apply makeup on her neck to keep certain marks hidden?
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