Twisted Together

by Pepper Winters

  Tess blushed. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot.” Twirling her glass, she admitted, “Crickets.”

  My eyebrow rose. “Crickets. Out of every single venomous, eight-legged, sharp-toothed ferocious carnivore, you’ve decided to be terrified of a bug that doesn’t have fangs or a lust for human flesh?”

  She squirmed, flushing redder. “Yes. Don’t mock me.” Her eyes flashed. “Do you have any siblings?”

  My world screeched to a halt. The beast inside tucked its tail between its legs, howling at the crack in my carefully fortified cage.

  The one question I would never answer—even on my death bed. No one knew. Not even Frederick, who knew most of it. This game was over. I was done.

  I drank the entire glass. The whiskey hit the back of my throat with a hot knife, licking my stomach with sickening heat. The alcoholic fumes shot up my nose, making me a menace to anyone who came too close.

  Tess’s eyes shot wide, very aware what my answer meant. Denied a response but ultimately given one at the same time. “Oh, my God. You have a sister or brother?”

  Had.

  And I’d refused to think about her for so many fucking years. But the pain hadn’t lessened—the nausea hadn’t faded.

  My voice dripped darkness and warning. “Don’t, esclave. That one is completely off limits.”

  My sister’s green eyes consumed my thoughts, begging me, streaming with tears.

  I was five when I first saw her—she was my earliest memory. I didn’t even know her name. But she was my sister. I would’ve known even if he hadn’t told me. We looked the same—matching jade eyes, identical dark hair. I found out later she was fifteen when I was five.

  Taken and demoted from daughter to whore by the man who’d given her life.

  The memory took me by the balls, hurling me back into filth.

  “You little shit, what are you doing in here again? I’ll fucking chain you to your bed if I catch you lurking where you don’t belong.”

  I turned to run, but he grabbed the cuff of my collar, hauling me backward. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  My eyes spilled with useless tears as he pulled me backward. Back toward the girl I was fascinated with, hanging from the ceiling. Something caught my attention; I whipped my neck around, horror making me freeze. A man slouched against the wall, a lewd sneer on his lips. He was huge, hulking, evil.

  “I think you need to see what happens to members of this household who don’t fucking obey their father.” My tyrannical père threw me to the floor, kicking me firmly in the ribs. Before I could scream, he caught my chin, angling my face toward the beautiful, crying girl.

  She shook her head, jangling the chains around her throat, sending saliva dribbling on either side of the ball-gag in her mouth.

  She was an angel. So pretty. So gentle. So endlessly sad.

  “This is your sister, Quincy. And it’ll be the first and last time you’ll see her.”

  I squeezed my eyes against the horror of what came next. I was young but not young enough. Her image haunted me for the rest of my life.

  The nameless sister who died two months later by my father’s hand.

  He was right. I never saw her again.

  I growled under my breath, desperate to hurt, throbbing with the need to tear men like my father apart. I’d only found out her name when I inherited the Mercer estate. Birth records at the local hospital claimed she’d died when she was ten, due to pneumonia. Her name was Marquisa Mercer. And she no longer existed. Thanks to him. The fucker.

  “Q—Q—” Tess leaned across the table, shattering my black-riddled world, slamming me back to the present. “Are you—”

  I was done before. Now, I was completely and utterly ruined. Hurling myself to my feet, I grabbed her wrist, yanking her from the booth. “We’re leaving.”

  Franco scrambled out from his table. Taking one look at me, he gritted his teeth and went to settle the bill.

  The man in the suit didn’t look up. My worries about him were unnecessary. It didn’t mean I felt any safer. Especially now. I couldn’t stay in public when I felt this way—this sick and twisted way.

  “I’m sorry, Q. I’m truly sorry if I upset you.”

  Swallowing back the rage, I locked away the memories where they belonged. Acting my fucking ass off, I jerked her against me, murmuring, “You didn’t upset me, esclave. I’ve just had enough of Truth. It’s time to Dare.”

  Pushing Tess roughly into the bedroom, I slammed the door.

  The security of a lock and walls did little to calm me. I couldn’t deny the icy warning growing more and more prevalent in my blood. I wanted to ignore it but it lived on the edge of my brain—taunting me with…when.

  Franco had dropped us off at the hotel, and I’d barely waited for him to pull to a stop before yanking Tess from the BMW and into the foyer. I needed to use her. I wanted to pour the darkness out of me and into her light. I needed something to get rid of the disease inside—the disease of wanting to hurt.

  Balling my hands, I advanced on Tess. My cock, sensing prey, leapt to attention, punching against my belt with lust. “I need to take you fast, dirty, fucking hard, esclave. I’ll hurt you—if that isn’t okay— tu dois fuir.” You need to run. My voice thickened as my vision clouded. The beast stretched, sensing violence in its future.

  Her spread over the bed.

  One droplet of crimson on the white carpet.

  Her with my belt around her neck.

  Her screams as I drove relentlessly into her.

  Her tears as I licked her cheeks.

  Tess spun to face me, her body quivering in the grey dress. My teeth ground, hating the material for hiding what was mine. I wanted to tear it into pieces. I wanted to destroy it.

  Tess’s face paled, her feet propelling her backward. “Q—I.” She held a hand to her chest, drawing my attention to the swell of her breasts, the soft fragility of the woman I wanted to ravage. “What—what are you going to do?”

  I laughed darkly. “Don’t ask me that. I won’t fucking bullet-point it.” I need to give you pain—just like you gave me by reminding me of Marquisa.

  Her lips parted as a rush of terror painted her cheeks. “Wait—what happened to dare? Dare me, Q. Don’t just take, give me an option to say no.”

  I shook my head, hunting her toward the bed. “Don’t tell me to wait. You don’t tell me what to do. That game was utterly ridiculous. I don’t want to play anymore.” My neck ached from the overloading of tension; the back of my eyes sprang with a headache—all warning signs I was losing control of the monster living inside.

  “Get on your knees.” I sidestepped, blocking her dash for the bathroom. I gave her the option to run. But running would only make it worse. She pirouetted, heading toward the thick curtains hiding us from downtown Rome.

  Her hair was wild while the skirts of her dress kicked up with her panicked steps. My heart changed from thundering nastiness to fracturing with a small smidgen of restraint. She was mine. I couldn’t destroy what was mine.

  Shaking my head, I pinched my brow, forcing the headache to simmer.

  A gentle thud made me look up. Tess bowed forward on her knees, her curls mixing with the grey of her dress.

  Ah, fuck me. Seeing her so submissive—ready for me—made the headache roar along with a howl from my soul.

  The huge curtains behind her looked like a silver waterfall, constantly shimmering with the illusion of liquid thanks to the lamps around the room.

  My earlier threat of taking her in full view pressed against the glass filled my mind. She’d be fucking perfect, splayed and on display. My cock twitched at the thought of driving into her while people watched. The knowledge they’d want what I had would twist my mind until I rode the fine boundary of sanity and monster.

  Inching forward, the darkness oozing in my blood took full rein. I wouldn’t deny myself tonight. I didn’t think I could. The whiskey wasn’t helping—blurring barriers that had no right to be
blurred, erasing the cage inside my mind.

  Stopping in front of Tess, I rested my hand on the top of her head. Fisting her hair, I forced her neck upward. “Rapide et violent.” Fast and hard.

  Tess sucked in a breath; her eyes darkened. “I don’t want it. Let me go.”

  I froze as a delicious ripple of pleasure fed me from her non-consent. My head cocked, letting the blackness billow. But I paused.

  I knew this woman. I loved this fucking woman and that one sentence shone a spotlight in the otherwise dimness of my soul.

  “Je t'aime, Tess.” I leaned forward, crashing my mouth on hers, dragging her upright. Her hands landed on my chest, shoving me with feeble strength.

  Her tongue entered my mouth, sharp and sleek, completely at war with her earlier conviction of not wanting it. To prove my theory of her goading me—just like so many times before—I stopped kissing her.

  A little kitten growl sounded in her throat as I let her go, waiting to see what she’d do. Pulling back, her eyes burned. Then she threw herself into my arms, knocking me backward, gluing her lips to mine.

  Damn this woman. This insanely incredible woman.

  I groaned as her tongue re-entered my mouth, tasting sweet, fruity, entirely Tess. Her hands went to my belt. Kissing and fumbling and tearing, she clawed her way past the beast, letting me choose this—letting me let go in a healthier way.

  I wasn’t the only one with the need for brutality.

  Time to use my woman like a master. Time to let the inner monster free just a little, all while keeping him on a fucking leash—proving once again I was better than him. I could control it. I had the power.

  I’m stronger than I think.

  The clink of my belt coming undone and her violent little hand latching onto my length hurtled me into thick desire. Grabbing her throat in a possessive chokehold, I smiled coldly.

  Time to play.

  “Dare, Tess,” I whispered, layering my voice with lust and smoke.

  Her eyes flared wide; her fingers twitched against the bare skin above my cock. The rustle of the netting over the silk of her dress sounded loud as we remained frozen together. Pinching the material, I knew what I would do first. It had to go. All of it. In the way I preferred.

  Reaching to my back pocket, I pulled out the one item I always carried. Some people stored a lucky stone, a trinket, or nothing at all in their pockets—I carried a bit of the past in mine.

  Tess frowned at the glint in my palm. “That’s the dare?”

  I chuckled. “Nope. That’s the foreplay.”

  She bit her lip. Her hands fell into the fountain of grey around her body. “Not this, Q. It’s too beautiful.”

  The room was kissed by gentle light, making shadows come alive, morphing into creatures of the night scurrying over the white carpet, darting behind the curtains. I tilted my head, purring, “It will look even more beautiful in pieces.” I wanted the floor to emulate the gravesite of destroyed clothing just like the day I’d caught her cutting up the items I’d given when she first arrived.

  Tess spread her legs a little, balancing in her sexy strappy heels. My eyes dropped to her delicate toes peeking, her calf muscles taut. “I want you in nothing else but those heels wrapped around my shoulders when I lick you.”

  Tess swallowed hard, her eyes glazing with need.

  “I can do whatever I want to you, your dress….Why is that, Tess?”

  “Parce que, je suis à toi.” Because, I’m yours.

  A rumble crept up my chest. “You have no idea how much I love you speaking French. It makes me so hard. So fucking hard.”

  My unbuttoned trousers didn’t give any relief to the throbbing in my cock. I wanted to skip foreplay and sink deep inside her. I wanted her screaming as I raced to the orgasm coiling in my blood. But first…I wanted to torment.

  Looping my fingers through the scissor handles, I asked softly, “Do you remember what I did with these?”

  Tess’s eyes locked onto the silver scissors, her cheeks flushing with memories.

  “Do you remember me cutting you? Slicing off your clothes that night before I took you over the bed? I hit you hard but you came harder. That was the moment I knew. The moment I knew you craved pain like I needed to inflict it.”

  “Yes. I remember,” she panted. Her chest pinked, casting her white skin with the tempting shade. Her gaze shot to mine, bright and feverish. Was it the fear of where I would fuck her tonight or the martinis?

  I hoped it was the fear.

  “Are you drunk, esclave?”

  She shook her head, hypnotising me with her blonde tresses rippling over her shoulders. “No. I was tipsy before, but now…now I’m drunk on other things.”

  My cock thickened. Snipping the metal blades, I pressed the cool bite against Tess’s neck where the dress tied at the back. Her breathing quickened. She swayed, but made no move to stop me.

  Holding eye contact, I cut the halter. I shuddered with longing as the material freed, drooping down her front. The swell of her breasts made my mouth water. I wanted to bite her. I wanted to see my teeth marks in her pale tender flesh.

  “Dare, Tess.”

  She wobbled on her feet as I trailed the tips of the scissors over the tops of her breasts, dipping possessively into her cleavage. She moaned, flinching from the prick of the blade.

  “You dare me to let you cut off my clothes?” She shrugged, shivering as I did another cut. “You clearly don’t need my permission, maître.”

  I smiled, deliberately dragging the sharp tips up from her cleavage, transfixed by the red welt I left behind—I didn’t break the skin, but Tess was so sensitive, flushed with blood. “That’s not the dare,” I murmured.

  Her gaze swirled with confusion. “What is then?”

  “How many times you’ll let me cut you.” A full body shiver rippled through my muscles at the sick sentence. I should be repulsed, embarrassed by my need to mark her—especially because she let me brand her—but I wasn’t. I’d told her the ‘Q’ sigil stopped those urges.

  I lied.

  I still needed the power over her mortal body. I needed to see her bleed for me, cry for me.

  Her eyelashes flared wide as her pupils dilated—half with panic, half with lust. “How many times?” Rocking back, trying to avoid the ever steady snip down the centre of her dress, she hesitated. “Cut my dress as much as you want—leave me skin alone.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not the dare.” Slicing again, the tightness of the bodice started to loosen, revealing the purple lace cupping Tess’s beautiful fucking breasts.

  Her hands opened and closed, trying unsuccessfully to hide her nerves. “You’re not playing the game correctly.”

  I snipped hard, deliberately catching the soft sensitive skin just below her bra line. “Oh no…how terrible of me.”

  Snip.

  It was my way of cutting into her shell, carving an entry into her heart. I pushed the sharp tip into her bra, circling her nipple.

  Her stomach rose and fell with every millimetre.

  My cock literally burned to be inside her. Every tiny movement made my balls tighten and snarl against the prison of my trousers. Was it the alcohol coaxing me to reckless sensitivity or the knowledge of where I’d be filling Tess tonight?

  I didn’t really care if it was the whiskey. Tonight she was mine. All of her.

  “You don’t ask me how many times. You dare me.” Her eyes smouldered. “So, master…how many times do you dare me to bleed for you?”

  Fuck. Me.

  The beast instead howled at the delicious fucking question. So brutal. So unpretentious. Grabbing the back of her neck, I kissed her like a savage animal intent on drinking her soul.

  Her hands came up, pushing against my chest as I plunged my tongue past her lips, giving her no choice but to open wide and receive.

  Her touch seared my skin beneath my shirt; her roaming fingertips crept up my chest, running hot along my collarbone.

  Then sh
e ripped the material, sending buttons pinging and air rushing against my tattooed torso.

  Her teeth captured my bottom lip, somehow taking control of the kiss for a second before I lost my cool and slammed her backward, upward, and onto the bed.

  The air flew from her lungs into mine. I pinned her down with my fingers around her throat. “Three. I dare you to do three.”

  Her lips were swollen and red and so, so wet from our kiss.

  She arched up, forcing her vulnerable neck into my fingers. Her breathing turned ragged. “Four. I dare you to do four.”

  Oh, my fucking God, what was she doing? Now was not the night to fight back—now was definitely not the time to make me lose the rest of my fractured control.

  Something skittered in her eyes before hiding in their grey depths. I reared onto my elbows, releasing her neck. “Why?” Suspicion chased hot through my veins.

  She looked away, but I grabbed her chin. “What do you dare in return?”

  Her body stiffened, but her gaze locked with mine. “I dare you not to take my anal virginity tonight. Give me more time.”

  My stomach gnashed with livid teeth. “That’s your dare? You’re so damn afraid of something I guarantee will bring you pleasure.”

  My imagination stole reality giving me a snuff movie of erotic torture.

  Her crying as I slid into her for the first time.

  Her thighs and cheeks glowing from my spanks.

  Taking her ass with my cock, while filling her pussy with a quivering vibrator.

  My hands curled at that vision. I ached to fill her with my cock and a vibrator all at once. I wanted her stretched and overly full. I wanted her to know exactly who she belonged to.

  Flipping her onto her stomach, I hoisted up her skirts and snipped with silver scissors at her knickers. They fell away, leaving her ass perfectly bare, the glisten of arousal slick between her legs.

  She jolted as I pressed a finger against her clit, dragging the tip through her wet folds and up to the one place she denied me.

  My cock pulsed with the first wave of pre-cum as she rolled her hips, trying to dislodge my touch. She was so tight, so shy, so fucking amazing.