Q gripped my ass, pulling my pussy harder against his mouth. His tongue speared inside me and I screamed. “Q. Fuck. Please. Yes.”
He groaned as my body wept. Moisture trickled down my thigh, mixing with Q’s saliva. Holding me captive with one hand, he pushed three fingers deep inside.
I screamed in bliss as he rocked his hand. His mouth centred on my clit as his fingers drove me into a frenzy.
My knees trembled, and I wished I could fall—fall onto his mouth, impale myself onto his cock. His fingers were heaven but his cock would be delirium.
A sharp band of an orgasm built in my lower spine, radiating through my belly to grip around Q’s fingers.
Instantly, he stopped and stood in one sharp move. I gawked and panted and cursed. My body quaked with the need to come; the need to come apart and surrender.
Q raised his arm, and the whip licked my lower belly. The nine pieces of leather coaxed red to shadow and pain to flourish.
I tried to bend over, to protect my innocent stomach, but the cross held me inert.
Q hit me again, this one higher, just below my breasts. My ribcage bellowed as the tiny beads bruised my flesh.
Again he swung. And again.
The cat-o’-nine-tails rained. It felt like Q delivered a thunderstorm: the thunder of his pleasure, my swirling feelings a blistering squall, and nine sparks of lightning all delivered at once.
I transcended. My body entered a realm of insane sensitivity and I welcomed the whip. The pain morphed into unbearable pleasure until I reverberated with all-encompassing want.
My thoughts swirled with bright lights and my body wailed for release.
By the tenth strike, I arched my back, pushing my breasts out, welcoming the gluttony of punishment.
Q’s breathing rasped, and our eyes never left each other’s. He looked wild and untamed and completely diabolical.
Half of me hated him for dragging me over the point of pain and turning me into a monster like him, but the other adored and worshipped him. No sex between us would ever be easy and completely consenting.
With our gazes locked, Q struck wide. My thigh howled as the strips of leather flayed me.
“What do you want from me? Why do you let me break you?” he panted, his chest straining with exertion.
My heart flurried; I wondered if I dare speak the truth. Tell him what I hoped he’d become. The future I dared envision.
He struck me across my belly, just above the lattice of red from a previous strike. I winced and suffered a wave of pleasure that almost made me come from no other stimulation.
“Speak, esclave. For every second you fail, I’ll hit you.”
I gaped, scrambling for the right words.
I cried out as, true to his word, he hit me again on my left thigh. Branding me with nine matching red stripes and blemishes from the beads.
“I want you to hurt me, but I also want you to care for me,” I exploded, vibrating with the need to come. It echoed in my teeth, it danced in the pain of the marks. Every inch of me was strung out and on edge.
He paused, relaxing his stance to run the cat-o’-nine-tails through his hands like one would with a pet. “I do care for you. Too damn much. You’ve turned me inside out and changed my entire world.”
Everything crunched to a halt. I never expected him to be so honest. Maybe he dropped his walls when he cast away the barriers to his demons.
We didn’t move as if terrified we’d break the moment. Our souls were stripped bare and free for the briefest of moments.
Q’s pale eyes darkened, hiding his vulnerability. He ran the whip through his strong fingers once again.
I trembled in the bindings waiting for the next strike, dreading it, wanting it, craving it.
“Jusqu'où tu me laisserais aller?” How far would you let me go? He murmured so low, I barely heard him.
My heart stopped beating, and I came up blank. I couldn’t answer his question. I didn’t know my boundaries; I didn’t want to put limits on learning how to coexist, and I definitely didn’t want to show the depth of fear I had that Q would eventually go too far and kill me.
Q’s eyes met mine. He let the hand holding the whip fall to his side. He rolled his shoulders, and my skin sprinkled with goose-bumps. The air crackled with sudden energy.
Q bowed his head, staring at me from under his darkened brow. “I understand why you won’t respond, esclave. I don’t have an answer either.”
I gulped as he took one step closer, obliterating the small distance between us, bringing his heat and proximity to scald my skin.
His free hand cupped my throat over the strap while his hips pressed against mine hard and quick. “You didn’t struggle when I cut off your oxygen before. Why?”
I shook my head, trying to pry free, but his fingers stiffened, holding me just as firmly as the leather across my limbs. Q breathed hard, never looking away from my eyes. The pale green faded as his pupils dilated in pleasure. “You let me decide how far to go,” he whispered, amazement in his tone.
His fingers tightened around my neck, hurting the already bruised column of muscle. My heart raced and bucked as more adrenaline exploded fast and swift, arcing in my blood. But I refused to beg to be released or for Q to be careful. This was a battle he had to win with himself.
Every shallow breath was a hardship as Q slowly cut off my air supply. When I grew lightheaded, Q licked his lips and bent to kiss me. The rough dominance of his fingers didn’t match the soft, sensual kiss he bestowed.
He didn’t kiss me. He worshiped me.
Every whisper of his tongue paid homage. Every hitch of his breathing sent my heart speeding until it was a blur in my chest.
Strapped to the cross, all I could do was let Q give what he wanted. His erection sprang harder against me as he thrust his tongue deep, licking my mouth, devouring me.
Breaking the kiss, Q stepped back, holding up the cat-o’-nine-tails. He draped it on my shoulder and very, very slowly let it fall, so it tickled and trickled down the left side of my body. I shivered as a bead caught my nipple, sending it peaking into a painful tip.
Inch by inch, Q watched the trail of his whip on my belly and hip, falling like a waterfall of leather to kiss my welted thigh.
Thoughts raced in Q’s eyes, and I wished I could decipher him; unriddle him and find the key to owning him heart, body, and soul.
Pulling back, he hooked his thumbs into his boxer-briefs and pulled them down. My mouth went instantly dry. Watching this man strip made every part of me combust into a rain of fire.
His cock sprang free, heavy and heated with need. The discarded boxer-briefs fell to his ankles, and he kicked them away without care. So proud and sure, almost cocky and arrogant, but the cool aloofness I mistook in the past was actually tightly reined passion. A will of iron that buckled and strained to stay human all the while urges beat him to submit.
Discarding the whip with a flick of his wrist, Q dropped his hand to wrap around his thick girth. He stroked once, twice. His long fingers fully encasing himself as he pumped strong and sure.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
Everything inside quivered. The just out-of-reach orgasm echoed in my pussy, clenching, calling to Q’s perfect cock.
I wanted to be Q’s fingers. I wanted to be his flesh. I wanted to be his cock receiving such pleasure. I wanted everything about him, and yet he gave me nothing.
I trailed my eyes up his physique, over his rigid stomach, skittering over his intricate tattoo, along his chest, up his stubble-smooth chin and parted lips until I finally looked him in the eye.
It felt as if the world exploded on its axis, tripping, spinning, hurling me headlong into sin and debauchery.
“You want me. Don’t you, Tess.” Q’s voice dropped to gruff and midnight. Still stroking himself with one hand, he came forward and cupped between my spread legs.
I moaned as his touch acted like gasoline on an already blazing inferno. “Q, please,” I w
arbled, my tongue too heavy to form proper sentences.
His fingers were little sticks of dynamite, and I begged to light them for a cataclysmic explosion.
He swayed toward me, stroking himself harder, drawing drops of glistening pre-cum.
My heart roared in my ears. I fought the restraints. I needed to be free. I needed to lick and bite him. I needed to fuck him with an urgency I’d never felt before.
Q tutted under his breath. “You want to be free?” He nuzzled my neck, licking at the sore skin from his earlier bite. “You’ll never be free again. Je te garde pour toujours.” I’m keeping you forever.
Oxygen no longer held merit as Q inserted two fingers deep inside me, pulsating in time with his strokes on his cock. I bucked, desperate to get closer. Fingers weren’t enough.
Take me! Own me.
Q groaned as he fisted himself, working harder. “Fuck, I want my cock inside you. To be deep in your darkness, your wetness, your fucking sweet pussy.” He pressed another finger deep, and my back bowed.
I moaned, eyes squeezed shut against the siege of euphoria. “Do it. Please, God, do it.”
“So eager. So keen,” he growled, his hand working harder, fingers throttling his cock.
I moaned, nodding. “For you, yes. Always for you.”
He trembled, groaning under his breath. “Only for me, esclave. All mine.” He fingered me harder. His thumb found my clit, swirling in time to the tempo he set. Rocking, possessing, mind-shattering.
His thumb was magic, conjuring swirling, sparking energy to centre on his touch. My stomach tensed as my core tightened around him, demanding to be filled, to be satisfied and taken, but Q just kept up the maddening erotic beat. Thrust, swirl, thrust. His hand worked his erection, bringing more blood to his cock, so it heated and wept with clear liquid. Liquid I wanted to lap. His balls tightened, sitting high and full, straining with the need to come.
With his fingers still deep inside me, Q stopped stroking himself to fumble with one of the straps around my wrists. I groaned as the tightness released, letting blood gush into my hands.
He never faltered in his rhythm as he undid the cuffs around my neck and other wrist. When I was free, he placed my hand on his cock.
His velvety heat was like the trigger on my release. My body clamped around his fingers as the first ripple milked him hard. So fucking good. My hand squeezed Q tightly. He hissed, but I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the heady thrill of finally giving in to the body-aching orgasm.
I felt eternally heavy as if gravity increased a thousand fold and then I let go, embracing the next wave of my orgasm, pulsing around my heart, wrapped tight around my spine and inner thighs, blazing with need.
Q slapped my hand away from his cock and withdrew his fingers.
No!
I gasped as the orgasm faltered, and, with no stimulation, receded like a pitiful wave.
“Why? Let me come. Please, let me come!” I begged, reaching for him with my freed arms.
He ducked out of reach, unleashing my ankles before standing again. Trailing his fingers over my torso, he turned his hands to claws, raking nails across me. He didn’t break the skin, but the burn activated the whip marks, encouraging pain to smoulder. Reaching my waist, he undid the final strap and pulled me from the cross.
With a grim mouth, he murmured, “I’m not done with you yet. When you come, it will feel so fucking unbelievable you won’t be able to move.”
He gathered me into his arms, pressing his forehead against mine and breathing deep. “Promise to obey everything I say. If you even think of rebelling or speaking against me, I’ll not be held accountable. T’as compris?” Do you understand?
I was speechless. For Q to demand I obey him, to allow him full control and acceptance never happened. He got off on fighting, on denial. I wanted to ask so many questions, but held my tongue and nodded.
I would’ve promised to do anything if it meant I could finally come.
Q backed away a little, crooking his finger for me to follow. “Come here.”
My feet moved on their own accord. I wanted to pounce on him and tackle him to the ground. Yet Q made no move to finish what he started.
My eyes darted between his intense gaze and heavy cock.
Q pointed at the ground by his feet. “Kneel.”
With a racing heart, I obeyed, folding to the floor as gracefully as I could with ten tonne lust-riddled limbs. The thick carpet welcomed, easing some of the soreness from the cross.
Q placed a hand on my head before walking slowly behind me. His fingers stayed locked with my hair, tugging it a little. With powerful hands, he gathered the strands. I shivered.
He captured every wisp and unruly curl, then twisted the thick strands until he made a blonde rope.
With a jerk, he pulled my head back until my heels jammed into my ass. “I like being able to control you this way, esclave.”
His mouth descended on mine from above. The upside-down awkwardness added a new dimension to our kiss, and I opened wide to let his tongue possess me. Controlling me with my hair, Q stole my breath, making me squirm.
My hands clenched into fists on my thighs, and I wanted more than anything to touch myself and come. I couldn’t stand the ache much longer—the unbearable need to explode.
Withdrawing from the kiss, Q wrapped my hair around my neck. The tickling strands wrapped around my throat made me claustrophobic. Small pops of panic burst in my bloodstream. I didn’t think I could stand to be strangled again.
Q stalked back to stand in front of me; my eyes fell to his cock. Pre-cum smeared down the underside of his velvety skin. I licked my lips.
His belly rippled with need and he groaned, taking a step closer. Our eyes burned holes in each other and we didn’t say a word. He stood still, apart from the slight twitch of his hips, the unconscious plea to give him what I desperately wanted.
I sat higher on my knees, reaching with shaky hands to clasp his hot length. My fingers latched around him, tight and unforgiving.
His head fell back, and the moan dragged from his throat vibrated in my pussy. If he kept making sounds like that I’d come from the power of his voice alone.
I stroked him once and his heavy hands landed on my head, exerting a little pressure, giving me a request.
My mouth watered as I bowed my head. The hair tightened around my throat. The moment my tongue touched his cock, I knew why he’d lassoed my hair around me. My airway was already compromised. Sucking his cock diminished it even more. Breathing thorough my nose didn’t help—every breath became a struggle.
My nostrils flared in fear, but I opened wide and sucked Q’s girth deep into my mouth. He threaded his fingers into my strands, holding my head prisoner as my tongue lapped from beneath and my lips clamped tight around him.
He rocked deeper into me, pressing down on my head. “Take it. Fuck.”
My pussy clenched, and I could’ve cried with how much I wanted his cock deep inside me. Anger and frustration bubbled, and I dared scrape my teeth along his length, testing him, showing him how on edge I was.
He thrust harder, causing my jaw to lock and teeth to mar such delicate flesh. The thick head of his cock hit the back of my mouth and the urge to gag suffocated me. I tried to take a deep breath, but my hair didn’t allow my lungs to fill.
Desperation grew and grew until my chest ached and my heart galloped. And yet I kept sucking, kept stroking. Q was in a different dimension, petting my head, taking my mouth with his eyes tightly closed.
“Your mouth is fucking heaven,” he grunted.
His cock rippled as I sucked harder, determined to make him truly mean what he said. I wanted him to unravel. I wanted it to be over so I could breathe again.
Anxiety made me bold. I slid one hand between his legs and cupped his balls.
He jolted. His hips stopped their searching rock. For a second, I wondered if he’d stop me. Maybe I wasn’t allowed to touch him there, but the second passed, and he re
laxed again.
I squeezed the tender flesh, rolling them in my fingertips. He twitched, and his muscular thighs quivered.
Looking up, I imprinted how he looked in that moment. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth in a grimace. He looked like an evil demigod. A living relic of sinful sex.
Opening wider, I slid him in and out, licking and laving while I cupped his balls harder. I wanted him to come. I wanted to steal the fine edge of his control and make him lose it.
I’m going to drive you wild, Q Mercer.
Growing braver, I darted my hand further between his legs. He stilled, but I didn’t give him an opportunity to decide if he liked it. With two fingers facing upward, I pressed hard on the ridge of skin between his balls and asshole.
He jerked as I found the thicker node of skin, the small walnut-sized erogenous zone also known as the male g-spot.
I pressed it again, sucking his cock deep into my mouth.
Q gasped and wrenched back, but I went with him. I kept my lips glued around him and my hand firmly between his legs.
I suffered black spots in my vision as my hair slowly asphyxiated me, but I kept a rhythm: suck, press, suck, press—a thrusting motion between his legs, my touch firm and unyielding.
Q let out a loud groan. “Merde. Stop!”
I didn’t stop.
I added teeth to my suction. I flexed my fingers, ignoring everything else but getting Q to lose control.
“Fuck fuck fuck.” It was a match to a cannon, a lost pin to a grenade. Q lost it. “Fuck me, esclave. Merde.”
His fingers gripped my head, holding me hostage as his hips thrust violently into my mouth. I never let up on the pressure between his legs, coaxing his g-spot, pinching the vein feeding his balls with blood.
“Tu vas me tuer. C’est tellement bon. Mon Dieu.” You're going to kill me. It feels too good. My God.
My mouth leaked saliva, unable to do anything but accept Q’s motion. My neck grew wet as I dribbled and my arm erupted into fire from keeping the pressure.
Q grunted like a feral animal. His throat rattled with curses, his body vibrated with aggression, and the entire room filled with the thick scent of sex.
I teetered on the brink of passing out, my body numb and weak. Q groaned from the tips of his toes. His belly stiffened, his legs froze, and his g-spot surged.
Monsters in the Dark Page 37
