“Yes, I want to remain married, esclave.” Letting her mouth go, I murmured, “But rings can come off…just like I’ve shown.”
Her cheeks blanched. “I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
Her eyes flashed with small threat of rivalry. She didn’t say a word as I ripped open an antiseptic wipe and smeared it over her ring finger, making sure to wash away my saliva.
Tossing away the finished rag, I grabbed the surgical needle and tore open its sterilized packaging before inserting it into the tattoo gun as I’d been shown. Louis had given me the supplies when I’d popped in to see him last month to update a few feathers on my chest. He’d worked on my torso piece for months. Multiple visits. Long, painful hours while he engraved and coloured my skin with the redemption of my life. Every pinprick of the needle gave me value for the women I'd rescued, fixating my anger onto the fucking cocksuckers who’d stolen them.
Louis had become a friend even though we never spoke about anything beyond trivial things.
Tess whispered, “The last time I was tattooed, I made the choice to add 58 to my wrist. The first time, the trafficker took away my choice with a barcode, and now, you’re going to make that choice on your own.”
I froze.
Shit, I hadn’t thought of it that way. I hadn’t asked her permission. Stupidly, I thought she’d find the notion romantic. She’d let me brand her, after all. This was nothing compared to that.
Tess flinched as my eyes fell to the modified barcode and sparrow on her wrist. Compared to Louis’s mastery, the artwork was juvenile. One day, I’d have it lasered off, and if she wanted it redrawn, I’d gladly let Louis replicate the design. Then again, the thought of anyone going near her with sharp needles threatened to send me into a blood rage.
No one else was allowed to hurt her.
Only me.
There I went again, taking control of her body and skin. Something that was hers to ink, not mine.
My shoulders fell. “I don’t—”
Her free hand clutched my wrist tightly. “No, I want you to. It’s a full circle, Q. Don’t you see? I was tattooed to find you, tattooed after I lost you, and now, not only do I belong to you and you to me, but you’re the one who will do it.”
My heart fucking squeezed. “You don’t mind my scrawl?”
She smiled. “Your penmanship is impeccable. I wouldn’t trust anyone else.” Her spread leg pressed against mine in a blatant show of acceptance. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I get to do the same to you.”
A mark for a mark.
A brand for a brand.
I fisted the gun. “That was already part of my terms.”
“Oh, right.” A devious smirk twisted her lips. “I forgot because some torturer didn’t let me come and my brain is broken.”
“You behave and I’ll let you come. Deal?”
“Deal.” She stretched in her bindings. “By all means, maître, tattoo away.”
I didn’t say anything, mentally preparing for the skin graffiti I’d grace her with. I already knew what I’d write. I just hoped I could pull it off so it didn’t look like a four-year-old did it.
Tapping the ink vial, I made sure the gun was operational. “Are you ready to become my canvas, esclave?”
“Only if you’ll let me come once you’ve finished your needlepoint.” Her lips stole into a cheeky smirk. “And then I’ll tattoo you. I’m shaking too much to be of use in my current state.”
I pinched her. “You know demands will get you more punishment than reward.”
She smiled wider. “Perhaps that’s what I’m after. Especially if it’s delivered with that wand you brought.”
My eyes narrowed as I spread her hand over my jean-clad thigh. “Anything can be arranged for you.”
Sighing into my control, her hair fanned in messy plaits with a blonde halo. Closing her eyes, she took away the pressure and let me focus.
Bending over her finger, I turned on the gun.
It hummed like the magic wand but at a much lower frequency.
Tess kept her eyes closed but whispered, “Why exactly are you doing this?”
“I’m making it permanent.”
“We are permanent.”
“I want to see it.”
“See what?”
I pointed at her wedding finger. “Jewelry can come off, Tess. I want a reminder of the truth just for us beneath the gild of diamonds and gold. I want our vows on my body until I’m ash and bone. I want our promise to seep into your blood and taint your soul.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “That’s already happened. You own me completely. A tattoo won’t change that.”
“It will.”
“How?”
“It will be the final reminder that we belong. Together.”
And no matter what our future holds, no matter what we earn and what we lose in our lifetime together, that’s all that fucking matters.
Tess tensed, her mouth hanging open as realization hit. “You want to write Je suis à toi on my finger.” I’m yours.
I smiled. “Oui.”
Her body melted into the bedding. “Why didn’t you say that? I would never have argued. It’s perfect.”
“You were right to ask questions.” Moving her hand into a more comfortable tattooing position, I growled, “Now, no more speaking. I have to concentrate.”
Tess bit her lip as the needle collided with her flesh.
She winced as I slowly wrote the scripture around her tiny finger.
It wasn’t easy, and some of my lines weren’t perfect, but the vow threaded around her digit directly where her wedding ring sat. The black ink glowed against her skin, forever there. However, unless someone looked under her diamond, they’d never know it existed.
Only me and my beast.
Just as it should be.
It only took a few minutes. Her finger bled just a little, and once I’d completed the final swirl, I daubed the artwork with aftercare cream and wrapped her finger in a protective covering.
Letting her go, I stood and placed the apparatus on the bedside table.
She would ink me in return, but she was right. Endorphins and lust ran through both our veins. My hands hadn’t been as steady as they should’ve been. I wanted her. I’d drawn blood enough to sate the heinous lust inside, but I hadn’t hurt her enough to add the utmost pinnacle to her pleasure.
The night was full of possibilities.
And it was time to begin.
I COULDN’T STOP looking at my tattoo.
Not when Q unbound my wrist and ankles. Not when he ordered me to stand at the end of the bed and strip. And definitely not when he secured my legs to the four-poster frame while I stood in a wide stance with my hands on the mattress.
The see-through covering over my new inscription protected and smeared his inked promise but the black calligraphy had seeped into my blood and scripted on my heart, too. The black lettering looked like delicate filigree, ready to be hidden, once healed, beneath my glittering wedding ring.
Q’s gorgeous cursive had well and truly marked me as his. I felt more like his wife than I ever thought possible and I wanted to create something with him. I wanted to treasure and cherish every single moment we had left together because life was way too damn short.
“Are you ready?” Q purred behind me.
After stripping off my underwear, he’d inspected my bare pussy, ensuring I’d obeyed his commands to shave every inch. It wasn’t often he wanted me completely nude, but I understood why tonight.
That magic wand he’d purchased was the devil and God all in one. The softness of the vibrating head against the swollen wetness of my clit had spun me so tight and hot, so fast and strong; I worried that when I did come, it would cleave me in two.
I didn’t want to die via orgasm. Especially now Q had written ownership on me with his own hand.
“I asked, are you ready, esclave?” He swatted my behind
.
He couldn’t hide his tremble or erection. The large mirrored wardrobe to my right showed a kinky, erotic scene. Q had stripped, too. He stood with a lambskin flogger in his hand while every inch of him was deliciously naked.
His cock speared in front, just as bare as I was. He’d shaved to match.
I shivered in anticipation of our slick skin sliding and slapping and fucking and taking.
My head lolled as desire made everything so heavy and tender. “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”
“Ten strikes for being such a good wife. If you deserve more afterward, I’ll give them to you. But for now…I’ll go easy.”
I nodded, placing my cheek on the mattress. My fingers curled into the soft sheets, activating the burn of my tattoo.
The first whistle of the flogger reached my ears just before the sharp bite punished my ass.
Q sucked in a harsh breath, growling in his chest. “Count for me, Tess.”
“One.”
He’d struck me so many times; my body no longer fought the sting. It slipped and liquefied, swirling down and down into the sensual darkness inside my mind. Q could whip me for hours, and I would love every strike because he could hurt my mortal body but not my immortal soul. That latched onto his, making love without boundaries all while our outwardly forms punished each other.
Q raised his arm again.
The flogger lacerated the air, landing on my skin. “Two.”
He didn’t pause, punishing me quickly.
I shuddered. “Three.”
Another. “Four.”
And another. “Five.”
“Six.”
“Seven.”
“Eight.”
My legs grew weak, and I gave more and more weight to the mattress. My clit throbbed, and if he angled the flogger between my legs, I would come within a splinter of a second.
The whistle came again. “Nine.”
And a final time. “Ten.”
Q huffed hard as he threw away the whip and fisted the blindfold from last night. His skin blazed while his eyes shot black with monsters. He was so fucking hot. So primal and proud and strong. Sometimes, I deliberately angered him just to see the different pigments of rage upon his skin and hear the different tones of abuse in his voice.
I loved his madness.
I loved our crazy, wonderful life.
Somewhere in the room, the soft chime of midnight heralded Q’s birthday.
“Happy birthday, maître.” Wriggling my ass, I implored. “I think the only way to bring in such a day is to be cock deep in your very willing wife.”
Q lashed the blindfold from behind me. Instead of going for my eyes, he looped it around my throat.
He’d asphyxiated me before. He’d taken me to the edge of unconsciousness more times than I could count. Sometimes, instinct bellowed over my trust of him, demanding I scream my safe word.
But I never did.
Because Q, no matter his low thinking of himself, was so much more than just a monster.
He was a lover.
A protector.
A giver and friend.
He was so much.
However, he wants more.
But what?
What more could he give me?
What more could I give him?
“I agree with your offer, esclave.” Q’s cock wedged against my ass as he tightened the blindfold around my throat. “How much do you want me to fuck you?”
“This much.” I bucked backward, standing on my tiptoes to slip up over his erection and position my pussy directly over his crown.
He jolted; the blindfold cut into my windpipe as shock and lust stole him. “Fuck, you’re too flexible for your own good.”
I arched my hips, forcing the tip of him to enter me.
The room littered with filthy curses from my French master. “Shit, Tess. Having you spread, seeing every inch of you, feeling your wetness while watching my cock disappearing inside your body—your body that’s red and welted and marked and tattooed with everything belonging to me—Christ, it makes me want to fucking come all over you.”
His body sandwiched mine from behind as his cock shot into me with one swift thrust.
I cried out, but no oxygen got past the blindfold. Softness teased my vision and lack of air made every sensation exquisitely consuming.
My body was so full. Too full. His hips punished mine, pulling out and driving back in.
His tight hold around my neck relaxed a little.
I sucked in a noisy breath.
His weight slipped to the side as he grabbed the magic wand and switched it on.
I moaned loudly, “Q, if you touch me with that—”
Too late.
He positioned the vibrating animal right on my clit just as he thrust deep and hard.
I didn’t stand a chance.
The earlier denial of my orgasm. The fear of what would happen when I let go.
None of it mattered.
I screamed.
And came.
My spine bolted into one electric rod of bliss. My inner muscles clenched greedily around him, over and over with mind-deleting pleasure.
I screamed and came for I didn’t know how long. My spread legs made the torture all the more painful. The thick control of Q fucking me made my entire body clench and shudder.
He turned the vibrating devil higher, pressing harder against my clit.
“Shit!”Another bomb arced down my spine and detonated through my womb into my legs and toes.
I sobbed as I crashed back to earth. But Q didn’t remove the vibrating nemesis.
“Q…please.”
“Another, Tess.”
“No.” I bit the sheets as he angled the device even harder against me. He bruised me both inside and out. Slipping the wand from my clit to my asshole, he held it against us. Torturing his cock as well as me.
“Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He bucked harder as the wand turned its magic on the sensitive flesh of his erection.
I rose again, screeching and trembling to another breath-wrenching orgasm.
He grew impossibly harder inside me. One hand held the blindfold around my neck while the other ran the magic wand over us—over his balls, my clit, his cock, my asshole.
I couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t tell where the head of the machine was and where the echoes of vibrations began. All I could tell was the mattress was soaked beneath my cheek where I panted and drooled and my throat burned for a proper breath.
When Q pressed me deeper into the mattress, sandwiching my pussy against the wand and the end of the bed, I gave up again.
I screamed as every molecule exploded in my extremities.
His voice filled my ears. “Goddammit, esclave, you fucking undo me. Feeling you come around me. Knowing I could take your life and you would die right here in my arms because you love me and wouldn’t fight. Shit, that’s the worst kind of turn-on. The best kind of turn-on.”
His hips pistoned harder and harder.
I couldn’t hold on.
I came again.
And my undoing was his.
With more dirty curses, he followed me, slamming into me. Letting go of the blindfold to hold my hips, he forced me to take every damn inch of his huge size.
By the time we both came down from paradise, I couldn’t move.
Literally, I could not move.
It took us ten minutes to find the energy to stand and another ten to untangle the ropes and flop onto our sides to face each other on the bed.
Our breathing remained out of control, and our touches wracked and shook as we stroked and petted, turning violence into tenderness.
Finally, once our jagged, scattered pieces were glued firmly back into order, I murmured, “As much as I want to, I don’t think I can tattoo you tonight unless you want words as jittery and unreadable as a baby’s.”
Q chuckled, gathering me close and spreading me on his naked front. We stuck together with sex-sweat, but I wouldn�
�t have it any other way. “You’re excused until tomorrow.”
My eyes fell on the champagne bottle on the nightstand. “You brought dessert?”
His smile was wickedly sinful. “Oh, that’s for breakfast, esclave. We haven’t had dessert yet.” Spanking my sore ass, he ordered, “On your back, I haven’t nearly had my birthday fill of you yet.”
“GOOD MORNING, BIRTHDAY boy.”
My eyes narrowed at Frederick as Tess and I entered the breakfast hall. Screw him and his eternal optimism. I didn’t care to be reminded another year had gone by. The life I treasured with my wife and business ventures close to my heart was rapidly running out.
Fuck birthdays.
I didn’t reply, glowering at the freshly cooked pastries and berry preserves with toast sitting pretty in a silver rack. Staff milled around, placing plates of scrambled eggs and bacon in the centre of the table.
Frederick laughed at my cold shoulder. “What? Did you wake up deaf as well as a year older, you sullen bastard?”
Tess giggled at my expense.
“That will be the only reference to the date if you value staying in one piece.” I pointed a finger at my friend. “Got it?”
Angelique giggled, glancing at Tess and the gingerly way she sat down. “I take it you guys had a good night celebrating?”
Tess blushed, using the excuse to grab a piece of toast to avoid the question. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Suzette nudged Franco with love hearts in her eyes; at least their own romance kept them from interfering with mine.
Sitting beside Tess, my heart lurched at the black lines from the tattoo peeking beneath her wedding ring. She should’ve kept the covering on for a few days to heal, but stubborn as always, she’d slipped her rings back on saying she couldn’t bear not to wear them. The day I put them on her finger was the day they were glued for eternity.
I loved her sentiment and desire to show the world she was mine—in marriage and harmony. However, I did worry about the healing wound. Later, when we weren’t in company, I’d demand she give the ink a few days to heal.
Plus, I’ll be able to see my handiwork a little longer before she covers it permanently.
As I ladled a selection of food onto my gold-rimmed plate, the conversation switched to what we would do today. Tess stayed curiously silent as ideas were suggested and tossed away; the concept of boat paddling on the lake discounted in favour of scrolling through the movie channel and hanging out in the castle’s converted cinema.
Je Suis À Toi Page 8