The receptionist’s mouth parted slightly as she took the credit card, eyeing Q with interest. Her smile encompassed coyness rather than professionalism. I welcomed the snarl in my stomach. I loved the ignition of rage. Adored my willingness to fight.
It was so different to hurting the women in Rio. This I would gladly start and end.
Something shifted in me. Something small but fundamental as I took back a piece of my life—acknowledging my urge to hurt another.
“Is there a problem?” I said, dragging the girl’s eyes to mine. I had the sudden need to smooth my hair. I wished I wore a tailored dress or some exorbitantly expensive jewels. I felt so ordinary next to Q. But he was mine.
Hands off, bitch.
Her smile froze, turning to brittle efficiency. “No. No problem.”
We both jumped as Q slapped the counter. “When I asked for a room, I want it now, not tomorrow.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, bending to look at the computer screen. The cattiness and female challenge between us faded as her interest in Q died a quick death thanks to his rudeness.
After a second, she said, “We only have the Presidential suite available.”
“Fine. Book it.”
“How many nights will you be staying?” She fluttered those obnoxious lashes in Q’s direction.
“Not sure. Keep it open-ended.”
Her eyes popped wide; I swallowed back my smugness. Q was dangerous. He was dark. But he was also the most generous, sexy, powerful man I’d ever met.
Happiness ballooned as Q glanced my way. He didn’t acknowledge me, but we were linked too deep. We belonged.
I’m the luckiest girl in the world.
“Um, well. We can’t just hold it. It’s four thousands euros a night. Should I book for the one night, or a week, or what?”
Q bristled, electrifying the air. “Charge me whatever you want but give me the keys.” His eyes fell on me, melting the ice in my blood, turning me into a flickering candle ready to burn.
Holy crap. It wasn’t often that I blushed. But damn, Q set my cheeks on fire.
The girl dropped her eyes, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
A moment later, Q fisted the old-fashioned key she held up, and dragged me like his hard-won prey toward the elevator.
“I’ll keep the other key here for your colleague. Oh by the way, dinner is included in the room rate. I’ll advise your butler to confirm your menu selections,” the woman called after us.
Q slammed to halt, spinning back toward her. “If anyone interrupts us, I’ll have this entire hotel bulldozed to the ground. No dinner. No reservation. No menus. Nothing.” A smile decorated his face, struggling to project a businessman rather than a beast. “Merci.”
I didn’t say a word as we rushed to the elevators. He punched the ‘up’ button. His fingers tightened around mine until mini-heartbeats pounded in time with my fear.
The lift pinged. We entered.
One second.
Two seconds.
No one else entered.
Three seconds.
Four seconds.
The doors closed.
The lift hadn’t moved before Q launched himself at me.
Grabbing my hips, he hoisted me upward, slamming my back against the mirrored panelling. Instinctively my legs wrapped around his body, joining us tightly together.
The second Q rested between my legs, he thrust upward, grinding himself violently against me. His glowing eyes captured mine, his mouth tightening into a grimace. “Fuck, I’m hard. Can you feel it? Fucking hell, Tess. Qu'est-ce que t’es en train de me faire?”
What are you doing to me?
The air no longer held oxygen, only need.
I bent my head to kiss him, but he denied me his lips. Tilting my face, I managed to find his cheek, then throat, then ear. Tracing my tongue around the shell and fleshy lobe, I murmured, “You need to be in me. I need you to be in me.”
He growled, driving up harder. The beads of my spine throbbed against the unforgiving mirror.
“You have no fucking idea, esclave. Needing you frays my patience. Needing to come makes me insane. I’m running out of control.” His voice dripped with black desire—stealing thoughts straight out of my head.
My ears roared with blood; I grew wet with every uncontrolled and savage thrust. I relished the melting, hoping against hope I remained turned on. Fear had no place here. Not while I had the man who’d saved my life between my legs.
Q’s anger switched to feral desire. I latched onto his strength, keeping myself locked in delectable lust.
I moaned as Q fisted my hair, giving him access to my throat. His wet mouth covered the sore brand and the stinging pain of an unhealed wound sent a tangle of terror through me.
I wanted to be with him—more than anything. I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted to hold him close and have his body blanket mine. I wanted to feel safe.
“Hit her, puta. Kill her, puta. Obey us!”
“Goddammit, esclave. I need you. I need—” Q’s breathing was ragged, harsh. His hand dropped from my hair to my breast, cupping me with vicious fingers. Sensitivity erupted to agony; I bit my lip, scrambling to keep hold of desire.
I’m not strong enough.
My eyes squeezed. I willed my body not to expose me.
In some far away universe, the elevator doors opened.
An embarrassed cough.
It sounded out of place to the heavy breathing and absorbed world we lived in.
Q twisted his head. “Ah, fuck me,” he grumbled. His hips withdrew from mine and the violence of his touch receded to let me slither down his body and land on my feet.
An elderly man in an immaculate tuxedo, bowed. His black eyes looked flustered, shining with wry amusement. “I believe you booked the Presidential suite. I’m the butler, Andre.”
I gawked, unable to act normal while so much intensity bubbled in my blood.
Q however slipped into egotistical businessman, dragging me from the lift. “Yes, we’re staying in the suite. No, we don’t need anything. You’re dismissed for the rest of the night. Thank you for your time.”
The butler bowed again, his lips turning up ever so slightly. “I’ll be on extension 232 if you require anything.” Entering the lift we’d just vacated, he smiled. “Good day to you both.”
The doors shut but it didn’t cut off the small peel of laughter.
My heart hadn’t had time to stop racing; my hands shook. Once I entered that room, I could no longer be weak. I could no longer indulge in the horror and memories drowning me.
Q believed I was the perfect masochist to his sadistic needs.
I am that girl.
I am.
“Nosy old bastard,” Q muttered, fishing the key from his pocket. The entire floor housed the Presidential suite. There was only one door, and Q attacked it with the key. It swung open thanks to a well-placed kick.
I laughed softly. “He didn’t exactly want to see two people groping each other. Hazards of the job I can imagine.”
Q lassoed my wrist, yanking me into the room. With a dark smile, he slammed the door and spun me against the wall. The second my back hit resistance, Q froze. His eyes fixed me in place, adding more bubbles to my blood.
I forced myself to relax. Give in. I had to trust him and let go completely.
Don’t tense.
I had to trust in my strength to survive whatever he would do.
He can’t know.
Our breathing accelerated, filling the suite with overwhelming tension. Q raised his arm, slowly, so, so slowly, dragging out the anticipation until I quivered against the wall.
“Where were we before we were interrupted?” His eyes fell to my brand, his jaw locking. Something animalistic flickered over his face, transforming him into something far scarier than human. “Seeing my mark on your skin—it does things to me, Tess. It affects me here.” He thwacked his chest with a fist. “It calms me here.” He tapped his temple
.
Q was so strong and invincible but beneath it all he was insecure—just like me. He needed daily affirmations that I wouldn’t leave. That I wouldn’t lock him out like before.
We were the same.
We need to talk.
Q reached forward, running his fingertips along my jaw. In their wake, he left me on fire. My heart scurried faster and faster, hurling itself to its doom.
“So many things I want. So many things I need to do.” Q’s fingers trailed down my throat, making their lazy way to hold my neck hostage.
My hands balled by my sides; my breathing turned fast and reedy. I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t.
He’s going to hurt you. Spank you. Bite you.
The panic was worse than the pain and out of nowhere a familiar tug happened deep inside. A tug of promise—a shelter where I’d once hidden.
The tower.
Horror shoved away the first brick sliding into place. No!
Never again would I shut myself off. No matter what I went through I couldn’t go back into that circular prison. I wouldn’t find my way out again.
Q’s fingers squeezed, reminding me of the day he’d strapped me to the cross and waited to see how far I’d let him go.
I couldn’t stomach the stretching tautness. If I let Q draw out the connection, he’d taste my reluctance.
I did the only thing I could.
I threw myself at him.
Q’s fingers broke away from my throat, falling to his side as I jumped on him. He grunted as my body weight knocked his balance, making him stagger backward.
I was the one taking. I was the one reclaiming our relationship and even though I knew pain would be forthcoming, I relished the power at the surprise in Q’s eyes.
But then it was gone. Replaced with fierce lust and unfathomable possession.
“Fuck, Tess.” That was all Q managed before I slammed my mouth against his, shutting him up. He groaned as I wrapped my legs around him just like in the lift.
His biceps rippled, holding my weight, only to spin me around and smash me against the opposite wall.
I clawed at his back, hoping to enrage him enough to use me fast and hard. Fast because as much as I wanted him, I wanted it over quickly. Fast was good—fast hid everything slow would reveal.
His tongue lashed out, taking complete possession of my mouth. I squirmed closer, pulling his hair, forcing him to hurtle toward violence.
He growled as I reached down and grasped his cock as hard as I could.
“Fuck.” His hips pistoned, crunching my wrist between us. My mouth opened in a silent scream but Q used the advantage to kiss me harder, deeper, wider.
“What are you?” he grunted, rocking into me.
“You’re worthless. You belong to us. Withdrawal will make you do anything, obey anyone. You’re ours.”
My body jolted; I pressed harder against Q wanting to run from the abysmal thoughts.
“Answer me, esclave.” Q’s touch bruised, but he didn’t raise his palm or reach for his belt.
“Je suis à toi.” I panted. Revelling in the freedom of the phrase, I repeated, “Je suis à toi, Q.” I’m yours.
“Just like I’m yours.” His passion poured down my throat to my heart, heating me, protecting me. His lips crushed mine, and his arms bunched, pulling me away from the wall. Blindly, he carried me, but a second later we crashed into a sideboard.
The hard wood smacked into my thighs; Q swore under his breath. With glazed eyes and need glowing on his face, he swiped an angry arm behind me, knocking off expensive porcelain and a vase holding cascading lilies.
The flowers teetered then committed suicide on the marble floor below. The tinkling of splintering glass and china mixed with our heavy breathing. Cold water splashed my legs, soaking into my jeans.
Q didn’t give me time to look at the mess. His lips found mine, drowning me in his hunger. Hoisting me higher, he placed me on the sideboard, scooting me to the edge for easy reach. His lips tore from mine, his eyes latching onto my chest.
Bending over, he took the delicate material of my singlet in his mouth and tore it with his teeth. Once torn, he grabbed the neckline and ripped.
The cotton didn’t stand a chance, shredding like gossamer to follow the same path the flowers had. I moaned as his mouth latched onto my nipple through my bra. I fought the anxiety in my blood, waiting for the sharp nip of teeth—knowing the slight onset of pain would undo all my wetness, turning me from willing to pretending.
“You taste so good. So fucking good,” he growled, his fingers fumbling at the clasp. The hook sprang free, and Q jerked it off my body to toss over his shoulder. His eyes darkened from pale to smouldering. His jaw clenched as every muscle in his body locked into place. “Goddammit, you’re too fucking perfect.”
Reaching for me again, he pushed me back to taste. He manhandled me exactly how he wanted—using me like the perfect toy—his toy.
Every pull and suck of his mouth sent fire whooshing through my veins and into my core. Every lick and tease of his teeth made me forget.
Forget the voices. The pain. The suffering.
He became my entire world.
His lips left my nipple, leaving me cold and wet. His eyes charred my every thought.
With ruthless fingers, he attacked my jeans button. His knuckles brushed my clit through the material, sending a bolt of pleasure clenching my body.
Yes!
So long since I felt such inhibition. He granted immunity from everything but the selfishness of sex.
The zip released with one yank, then Q’s fingers looped around the waistline.
He pulled. Hard.
I almost fell off the sideboard. Bracing my hands on the smooth wood, I arched my hips, giving him room to tear them down.
My thighs were moon-white, marked only by remnants of kicks and torture. They were only faint shadows but Q’s eyes narrowed. Tracing the fading bruises, his face filled with harrowing rage. “Jamais. Ils ne prendront plus jamais ce qui est à moi.” Never again. Never will they take what's mine.
My heart sank further into my body, hiding from his temper; it came alive again as a burst of tenderness softened his features.
He leaned over, descending his mouth to the sensitive skin of my hip. With a slice of sharp canines, he decimated the scrap of lace.
My mind whirled as I sat fully naked before him. Q froze, drinking me in.
“Destroying my clothes again?” I breathed. Loving his lust—the ferocity and abandonment. He was loving me like I needed him to: full of passion and no pain.
“It’s only fair seeing as you destroyed my fucking heart.” He kissed me, making me swallow his words.
With strong hands he spread my knees, placing himself between my legs. I fumbled with his belt, cursing the rush of nostalgia and regret. I missed the lust at the thought of him using the leather. I missed the fuckedupness that made me his.
Q pushed my hands away, unbuckling in one fast pull.
I swallowed hard as he tore the belt free.
A moment hovered between us.
A moment where his eyes asked questions, and I kept mine from answering.
A moment where he ran the leather through his fingers, deliberating whether to use the still-warm belt as foreplay.
I fought the tremble; tussled with the truth.
If he chose to use it, I would accept. If he wanted it, I would obey.
Then the moment ended and Q hurled it away—his body twisted with the effort. His chest heaved as if the action drained his self-control beyond endurance. The heavy buckle crashed into something breakable in the distance, sending more noises of breaking china.
“I don’t have time for games. I need you on my cock. Now.”
With a furious jerk, he pulled off his trousers, underwear, and shoes in one swipe. His cock sprang free, glistening with pre-cum, beckoning with silky steel and promise of oblivion.
My mouth fell open at how gorgeous he was. How perfectly
made and achingly divine.
Every muscle twitched with longing, sending euphoria waltzing through my veins.
My pussy throbbed; my breathing accelerated. I welcomed back the joy of wanting to come.
I needed to take back this part of my life.
I was ready.
I swayed forward, biting his shoulder only to receive a mouthful of cotton. My eyes were endlessly heavy as I looked up. “I need to see all of you.”
Q clenched his teeth but allowed me to grab the hem and draw his t-shirt up. Up, up, revealing clouds, barbwire, and sparrows.
Every feather, every swirl of ink imprinted itself onto my heart. His tattoo encapsulated him like nothing else ever could.
“Q—” My hand lashed out, tightening around his erection. Images of eroticism and passion filled my mind as his heat scorched my palm.
His head fell back as a groan wrenched from his lungs.
My teeth ached; my blood hummed for connection.
Fill me!
My other hand dropped between his legs, cupping his tight balls. His eyes flared wide as I rolled the delicate heaviness in my fingers, wanting to bring him to his knees and serve him.
He thrust his hips into my hand, forcing his length back and forth. Every ripple of hardness, every ridge of his perfectly made cock sent my cells exploding.
“Do you want me, Tess?”
I bit my lip, nodding, transfixed by the velvet iron in my fist.
“It’s yours, esclave. What do you want me to do with it?”
His transfer of ownership sent a flush of untainted happiness. “I want you deep inside me, maître.”
His eyes snapped closed. “Fuck, I love hearing you say that.” He cupped my pussy, his grip hard and possessive. “Never forget it.”
My neck couldn’t hold the sudden density of my head. I cried out as one long, loving finger slipped inside me. Just one. Only one.
But I wanted to fucking explode.
“How much I’ve missed this. Missed your taste. Your sweet, sweet cunt,” Q murmured, his eyes luminous with lust.
“Q—take me. Please—I beg you.”
“You beg me?”
“You’ll beg for more. Withdrawal is a bitch, and you’ll beg, pretty girl. You wait.”
I shook my head, scattering the thoughts.
Twisted Together Page 9