“Yes. Fill me. Take me. Please—”
His cock lurched in my hands as I ran a thumb over the slippery tip. The slickness of his arousal turned me on beyond belief.
His finger withdrew, lulling me into a haze, then he thrust two fingers deep—stretching me with ownership.
The brief moment of slowness shattered as Q wrapped an arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer. His cock rippled in my touch, demanding something…demanding more.
His fingers massaged me deep, drawing more wetness and pinwheels of passion to radiate in my blood.
“Put my cock in you, esclave. Do it.”
The sideboard put me at the perfect height; Q was so close to entering me.
Q removed his fingers, smearing the glistening liquid over the head of his erection. Seeing him touch himself was the final push I needed.
I wasn’t Tess.
I wasn’t a survivor or murderer or slave.
I was a woman drunk on the need to come.
One entity. One goal. One destination.
“God, I need to be inside you. So deep, so fucking deep,” Q groaned.
My hips rolled forward as I guided the tip of him to press against my entrance. We both shuddered at the first connection.
Lifting me up with one arm, he positioned himself closer, spreading my folds with the thickness of his cock. With eyes locked, we froze at the temptation of sex. The room dripped with anticipation.
I bit my lip as he pushed forward, stretching, taking.
He stopped halfway. His eyes glittered, looking at where we joined. The basest of human acts, the rawest form of love.
Then the slowness and time for words disappeared as Q pulled back and with his face tightly controlled thrust hard.
One savage thrust filled me to the brim and something unlocked inside. The bricks of my tower scattered further as confidence filtered through my previous dread.
Tears sprang to my eyes—not because of pain or weakness but because of pure paradisiac joy.
Joy of being taken. Joy of belonging.
Q reeled off oaths under his breath, jerking me closer, pressing deeper.
I went floppy in his arms, focused only on him. His pelvic bone pressed against mine, rubbing my clit so perfectly an orgasm sparked from nowhere.
No build-up. No warning.
“Oh, God.” I grabbed his neck, needing something to hold onto while the cyclone of pleasure built in my core. Q groaned as he fucked me. Hard and strong and delicious.
My pussy squeezed, intent on one thing, leaving me floundering.
Q’s hands latched onto my hips, holding me firm, allowing him to thrust harder.
My breasts bounced as my body rocked on the wood. I leaned backward, bracing myself against the wall as he pulled my legs to wrap around his body.
The moment my legs locked around him, he surged upward. His cock hit places that acted as a trigger to the fiercest cyclone in history.
Tightening, swirling, building, sparking.
My mouth parted as a ragged moan erupted from my lungs.
“Fuck, yes,” Q yelled, his fingernails digging into flesh. He drove harder, stroking my pussy until every inch of me thrummed like an entire chorus of typhoons.
There was no pain.
Nothing but sweet, sweet pleasure.
I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it.
I didn’t ask permission or delay.
I gave myself over to the unravelling storm inside.
I came.
Every band of release made me shudder in his arms, and I was only vaguely aware of the world outside.
Q fucked harder, growling louder.
I didn’t care about anything but the intense waves of pleasure wringing me dry.
“Goddammit, Tess. Fuck it. Take me.” His voice was far away. I became nothing more than a vessel for him to come into. My soul was elsewhere, living in prolonged bliss. My thoughts were dust and ash.
Pain.
A flash of horrendous pain.
My eyes flew open. The wondrous storm switched to angry squalls—lashing me with darkness and hell.
I was ice cold.
I was terrified.
Q planted both hands on the sideboard, driving into me almost possessed. All I could focus on was the blooming red handprint on my thigh where he’d spanked me.
And then he came.
Rhythmic spurts, shuddering muscles, lust so violent it looked otherworldly on his anger-flushed face.
He’d hit me to come.
He’d needed to punish me to find release.
He took his pleasure from my pain.
The bricks I’d tried so hard to destroy lurched into formation. The foundation of the tower went from rubble to stacked in a blink.
My tower wanted to claim me again. It wanted to save me.
The pain made me want to hide.
With a war-cry, I smashed the cylindrical prison and prayed with everything I had left that I was strong enough.
Strong enough to survive.
Strong enough to survive Q.
Stroke me, provoke me, adore me, I implore thee, take all of me, ensnare me, play me to your tune
The release wasn’t enough.
It’d been too quick, too tame.
Even as I’d driven deep inside Tess, coming hard and fast, I knew it wouldn’t sate me for long.
It wouldn’t sate me because it’d been normal. Fucking vanilla. Sex wasn’t what gave me pleasure and got me off. It was the dominance—the role-play, the mind games, the linking of masculine and feminine through bodily control.
The one strike I’d delivered had been enough to send me over the edge, but not enough to stop the churning in my gut for more. I needed worse. I needed dirty.
I sighed, throwing an arm over my eyes.
Tess was still in the bathroom. She’d been in there for at least forty minutes.
What the fuck was she doing?
My eyes travelled around the suite. From the bedroom, I could see most of the lounge and part of the drawing room where dinner and business meetings were concluded. Each room took up a colossal amount of space with huge windows bordering the view of the seaside, colourful umbrellas, and lobster-red sunbathers.
I threw myself back onto the covers, staring at the ceiling. The suite consisted of soothing shades of white: eggshell, alabaster, and chalk. I knew because the hotel stupidly provided a decoration guide complete with drapery design, carpet blends, and colour swatches.
As if I’d come here for fucking decorating advice.
I’d flicked through the magazine after rolling it up into a tube, testing it as a spanking device. I’d discarded it because the slick glossy pages were too heavy—it would bruise. And although I wanted Tess to pant and a few tears to be shed, I also hated the thought of marking her. Which twisted my gut with perplexity.
I missed the straight forwardness of before. The joy at knowing Tess could take it. Now, I had no fucking idea what she wanted or even what I wanted.
Did I want to hurt her?
Yes. Fuck, yes.
Did I want to make her cry?
Yes. I loved her tears.
Did I want to protect her and never lay another finger on her?
More than anything.
I would’ve castrated myself if it meant I could be free of the evil lurking in my blood. Tess didn’t deserve any of that. Tess deserved to be made love to. Not fucked. Not used by a man who had issues deeper than the fucking ocean.
The door opened.
Tess came out of the bathroom. I sucked in a breath as she made her way toward the bed. Her naked body was flushed and scrubbed. Droplets from the shower sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine streaming through the window.
My eyes dropped to the red outline of my hand on her thigh.
Ah, shit. Seeing the mark tangled my conscience into further chaos. My heart raced in bitter regret, while my cock leapt with fucking joy. The blush. The thrill. The knowledge I’d p
ut it there sickened as well as bewitched me.
I wanted more.
No, you don’t, you sick bastard.
My eyes fell to the ugly yellows and greens mottling her skin. Fading abuse from other bastards like me who got off on abusing women.
How can I be like them? How could I hurt the woman who owned my soul?
I struggled to suck in a breath as Tess climbed gracefully on the bed, carefully avoiding my eyes. Every movement was understated, carefully orchestrated as if she was invisible. Her hair was coiled upward while damp strands escaped, sticking to her neck. Her spine stood out, her collarbone a stark necklace. She looked so innocent and young.
But strong. So fucking strong.
I waited to see if she’d come to me. My arms throbbed to hold her. I wanted her to curl against me and let me guard her—I would be her protection so the nightmares would never find her.
But she didn’t come closer.
With a soft sigh, she reclined against a pillow, staring upward. Her eyes were large and lost. Her face tense and timid.
My blood boiled. What had she been thinking about in the bathroom? Something had to have happened for her to become so withdrawn.
It didn’t make sense. I hadn’t hurt her. I knew she’d enjoyed me taking her. She’d come. She’d wanted what we’d shared. I knew that with utmost certainty. Her release had milked my cock, telling me blatantly how much she enjoyed it.
So why? Why the silence and sadness?
Confusion itched my muscles, making my temper flare.
“Plus de secrets, esclave.” No more secrets.
Tess looked over, her eyes filling with warmth. “No secrets. Just tired.”
Damn fucking lies.
The large bed created a barrier between us. Lies filled the silence, secrets distanced us—pushing us further and further away.
I’m done.
Nothing would stop me from cracking open her mind and finding out the truth. I was done fucking waiting.
Throwing myself off the bed, I prowled around the mattress toward Tess. My cock hung heavy between my legs, reminding me I had plenty more to give. I’d use it to break her. I’d drive her mad with wanting and then I’d ask. I’d demand to know.
Tess’s eyes closed, either blatantly ignoring me or hiding yet more secrets.
“Esclave. Get up,” I ordered.
Her gaze flashed open; she sucked in a gasp. Her vision drifted down my chest, over sparrows and ink to latch onto my rapidly growing erection.
It jerked under her inspection, begging for her wet heat.
Tess froze; something flickered across her face but then was gone. For a split second clouds rolled over the sun, drenching her in shadow, painting her face with grief. But then the sun broke through, and she smiled.
Her body moved like water, slinking and rising from the pool of bedding to stand before me. Fuck, she was stunning. And mine. All mine.
I locked my muscles to stop myself from reaching for her as she came to stand before me. Every moment echoed with strength then shyness. Rebellion then obedience. Her entire demeanour played havoc with my head.
One moment I saw the woman I fell for, the next all I saw was prey. Prey I wanted to molest and break and bend to whatever sick fantasy I desired.
My jaw locked as she raised her chin, looking me in the eye. I wanted her to bow to me. To serve. To let me do whatever I damn well pleased.
Everything inside—everything I’d been missing—sprang back to life. My soul that’d been scarred and tattered thanks to Tess’s abduction slithered away, leaving me angry. So fucking angry.
The anger started as a burn in my heart—a spark with a flash of gasoline, erupting into a flame, igniting my blood until my entire body set alight with furious need.
I needed to take Tess ruthlessly and painfully. I needed to remember who I truly was at heart. She might have let me brand her and accept my callous ways, but I’d held back. All my life I’d held back.
And every time I did, it layered more darkness in my gut. Building into something manic. Tess had let me use her, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to what I wanted now.
“Je suis désolé.” I’m sorry.
Her lips parted, her skin whitening.
My arms banded around her—picking her up in a vice. “I’m not done with you, mon coeur.” My heart.
My mouth stole hers; my legs almost buckled at the fresh taste of her shower, cloaking the muskiness of spent desire.
Her lips went slack, allowing my tongue to dip inside her mouth. I groaned as she kissed me back. Her hands left the ramrod position by her sides, coming to rest on my hips. Her fingernails scratched my skin, dragging me forward until my lips bruised hers in a searing kiss.
“Q—please—”
Her beg wobbled with passion…no, wait—
My heart squeezed in panic.
It can’t be. It couldn’t happen.
I pulled back, glaring. I searched for some sign—some hint she wasn’t coping. Her blue-grey eyes stared back. For the first time since I’d met her, I couldn’t sense what riotous emotions she kept hidden.
Did she mean what she said? Or was that a lie, too?
She was unreadable.
The panic morphed to rage; I dragged her against me. My lips latched onto hers, kissing her hard. I tried to break her perfect façade. I wanted to crawl down her fucking throat and steal her heart and soul forever, so I’d always know her innermost hellions.
The monster inside—the one who lay dormant for weeks—came roaring back to life.
Control.
Smash her. Test her. Force her to give you her fears.
The sickly entice slithered in my blood, whispering of blackness and violence.
She won’t tell you unless you make her.
Wasn’t it my right to know everything about her? I had blood on my hands for her—the least she could do was talk to me—let me inside her soul.
It is your right. Just like her screams and pain are yours.
I shook my head, dispelling the rapidly building darkness. I never listened to the monster—why was I granting it power now?
Because you can’t help what you want. Take it. Stop fighting.
Shit, I was losing control.
I shouldn’t have let myself get so wound up. I should’ve taken my time before, drawing out the moment, giving me the chance to keep the infernal beast wrapped in chains where it belonged.
Tess kept something hidden—I sensed it on a carnal level. I didn’t know what’d changed but it called to me—twisting me inside out until I slipped further away from right and into wrong.
Something was different. Something I couldn’t see or hear or touch, but it drove me insane.
My fingers crept up, latching around Tess’s throat. Her muscles worked hard as she swallowed. Her eyes were empty orbs—empty of fear or lust or love.
I fucking hated it.
“What have you done?” I ran my nose down her cheek, inhaling the scent of expensive hotel soap. Maybe I could smell the truth. Maybe then I might find out what she was hiding.
She squeaked as I spun her around, backing her into the lounge. Every step she took, the urge to give myself over grew stronger. It’d never been this bad before. This insistent.
Her fingers locked around my wrist, holding on while her feet moved backward. “Q…”
“Tell me, Tess. Tell me what you did.” Tell me how I ruined you. Because I had. There was no other reason for the way she shut me out. “Tell me why I’m feeding off something you’re projecting? What is it? What did you do?” I shook her, hating and loving the spike of emotion in her eyes. It was neither fear nor lust.
It scrambled my thoughts, confusing the shit out of me.
The chaise lounge in the centre of the room halted our journey, pressing against Tess’s legs. She jerked to a halt, still holding onto my wrist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I glared into her eyes—dying to see what she
hid, dreading it at the same time. “You’re lying—but I don’t know why.” Shaking my head, I tried to grab hold of sanity.
The monster inside urged me to string her up and whip the words free from her mouth. She needed to be taught that keeping things from her master was not fucking allowed. Lying was the worst treason of all.
But then the voice of reason smashed my limbs.
You’ll never forgive yourself for doing this against her will.
But that was the kicker. I couldn’t tell if this was against her will or if she wanted it as much as I did.
Tess’s pulse hammered beneath my grip; her skin turned cool as winter. For the first time in my sorry existence, I couldn’t control the bastardly desires roaring in my blood.
Giving her one last chance to stop this, I whispered, “Tell me to stop. Tell me what you’re not letting me see.” My eyes dropped down her naked body, searching for clues of horror or lust. She was blank in both nuances and speech. “Do you want me to hurt you, esclave? Do you want me to fill you with my cock and grant you pain while you come?”
Something darted in her gaze, then was gone. A snake in the grasses of fucking temptation.
Tess dropped her hold on my wrist, stroking my cheek. Her gentle caress jolted me, granting me a lifeline in the sea of black.
I loved her.
I adored her.
I didn’t want to hurt her.
“You never have to ask. I’m yours. I want what you want. I want whatever you give me.” Her soothing voice twisted my brain.
See she wants this, too. You’ve nothing to worry about. Take her. Stop holding back.
Relief and excitement shoved away the hesitation and uncertainty. My fingers tightened, cutting off her air. Her eyes flared but displayed no other sign of alarm.
Don’t. Pull away. Something isn’t right.
That voice. The words of wisdom I always listened to.
Too bad it faded with every heartbeat.
Pressing my lips against hers, I never looked away from her blue-grey depths. She stood so regal, not slouching or trembling when I released my grip. “Are you telling me the truth?”
Tess never spoke to me in French, but she whispered, “Je comprends. C'est bon.” Yes. It’s okay.
Her touch threaded through my hair, cupping the back of my skull. Her nails sank into my scalp, causing me to break out in shivers. The sharp thrill reminded me all too well of being strapped to the bed and at her fucking mercy.
Twisted Together Page 10