Twisted Together

Page 25

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 f**king 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 f**king 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 cl*t 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 na**d 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 f**king 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 f**kedupness 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 c**k sprang free, glistening with pr**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 pu**y 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 h*ps into my hand, forcing his length back and forth. Every ripple of hardness, every ridge of his perfectly made c**k 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 pu**y, 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 f**king 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.

“Yes. Fill me. Take me. Please—”

His c**k 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 c**k rippled in my touch, demanding something…demanding more.

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