Je Suis à Toi

My thoughts vanished.

My body took over.

Q had this power. He reverted me from intelligent woman to begging pet. I knew what was coming. I knew because I knew him.

And I wanted it.

So, so much.

I wanted it more than candlelit dinners and fancy getaways. I wanted it more than diamonds and feather beds.

I wanted it more than life.

I was an addict to his sweetly delivered agony. And he was the drug I kept returning to time and time again.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Move.” Q shook me in warning and stalked off toward a bench full of dirty farm supplies.

Breathing hard, I glanced around the space.

Any moment, the owner could appear. He could catch us. But that only added to the thrill.

The tethered hay bales and discarded animal halters gathered grime in the corners while sinister meat hooks dangled from the ceiling on chunky chains.

My heart raced as Q came up behind me, dragging a meat hook along the bar in the rafters with the aid of a pole. “Arms up.”

I obeyed.

Not because he wanted me to. But because I wanted to.

My breathing quickened as he bound my wrists with something coarse and thick, yanking my arms upward and fastening them on the hook above my head.

My weight didn’t transfer to my wrists, but my knees turned to jelly.

I never knew how far he’d go. When he lost himself to the dangerous haze, he forgot about things like clothes and consequences. He would sooner slice off my outfit to get me naked than worry about what to dress me in after he’d had his fill.

However, he didn’t find a knife and start hacking. He merely strolled around me with a sharp smile on his lips and threatening promises in his gaze.

“You think I’m keeping something from you, Tess?”

What? He wanted to talk? Now? I wasn’t prepared for that torment. My body was liquid. My heart a blazing inferno. All I wanted was physical demands and sky-cresting, pain-inducing pleasure.

I blinked. “Yes?”

My confirmation was a question.

He chuckled dark and low. “Suddenly, you’re not so sure?” Moving behind me again, he scooped up my hair, braiding it loosely so it wouldn’t get in his way.

Way of what?

What is he going to do?

I wished I could predict him. But after three years of marriage and months of submitting to his every command, I still had no idea what he’d make me do. Sex with Q was never boring. It made my mind work trying to guess what implement he’d use next.

I wasn’t disappointed.

Removing my scarf from around my neck, he remained behind me, bunching up my grey dress and tying the teal scarf around my waist so the material didn’t fall back down.

Winter chill licked around my legs.

I wore a garter belt and G-string, holding up black satin tights.

The tops of my thighs were exposed and the low heels I wore suddenly weren’t sexy enough for the saucy lingerie I revealed.

Q came to my front, biting his knuckles as a fireball of lust painted his face. “Fuck, I’ll never get over how much I need you. How much your body calls to mine. How much your mind challenges me. How much your fight begs me to snuff it out.” His eyes darkened from green to demanding grey. “Even now that doesn’t scare you, does it, sweet Tess? Knowing that the entire time I’m fucking you—the entire time I’m cock deep in your pussy, and my hand is around your throat, and my teeth are in your flesh—I’m battling the urge to strangle you and make you bleed.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I was nothing but memories and wetness, coming unhinged by his dirty, damning words. I didn’t comprehend him in English. I heard him in my soul.

Wrapping his hand around my neck, he squeezed. “And the only thing that stops me from going that final distance—that awful, sinful distance—is how much I fucking love you. How much I worship the ground you walk on. How much I would die knowing that if I ever hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live another day. Je me tuerais si jamais j’allais trop loin.” I would kill myself for ever going too far.

His mouth smashed against mine. Our kiss defied logic and sensibility. He pushed; I yielded. He bit; I sucked. He gasped; I breathed.

My legs well and truly gave up standing. I fell in my bindings, letting him jerk my dangling body into his, allowing him to hoist my legs around his hips and scream into his mouth as he fumbled with his belt and trousers and shoved aside my knickers.

The only warning I had that he planned to take me so fast, so quick, so uncharacteristically raw was the briefest gush of icy air on my exposed pussy before his hand brushed my clit and the smooth crown of his cock impaled me.

I groaned and came apart as he tore right through me like a sword. He didn’t stop to make sure I was okay. He didn’t wait for me to adjust to his size or depth of penetration.

He merely clamped my hips and forced me to accept him.

He did what I needed him to.

I didn’t need soft words and kind concern. I didn’t need sweet sincerity.

I needed a man. A monster. A master to fuck me. I needed him to take away my choice because then I could give in. I could stop thinking. I could be nothing more than Tess with her Q and scream and cry and beg and pant and thrust and thrust on the majestic cock of my saviour and husband.

“Fuck, Tess.” Q’s fingers bruised my hips as he jerked me up and down on his length.

My wrists burned from the rope. Circulation ceased in my fingertips. My eyes were hazy and struggled to focus, but my body…it was alive. It was burning and crashing and so damn awake, I felt every twitch of his cock inside me, every restraint he held, and every growl he swallowed.