Quintessentially Q

He rocked, and his c**k eased down my ass, between my spread thighs, nudging my core.

Words were beyond me. I nodded wildly, scrabbling at the carpet. The strands wrapped around my fingers and I held on for dear life.

With urgent hands, Q untwisted my coiled ponytail and grabbed a handful.

With a jerk, he forced my head back. My spine arched as he plunged inside me.

Deep.

Hard.

Excruciating fullness.

I opened my mouth to scream, but he clamped a hand over me, riding me, containing my cries. “Shush, esclave. Not a sound, remember?”

The intrusion was pain personified, the rocking endless bliss.

The way he took me held no remnants of the sometimes sweet man beneath the blackness. This was purely brutal and dark and animalistic.

I loved it.

With his c**k deep inside, his fist wrapped around my ponytail, and his other hand clasped over my mouth, he f**ked me. Bucking so hard, carpet burn incinerated my pantyhose in a matter of seconds.

But every time he thrust, I pushed back to meet him. I bowed more than I’d ever bowed before, relishing in the burn of my hair being tugged. My lungs strained as Q grunted and rutted, taking me true to his word.

Little whimpers and mewls sounded low in my throat, but Q captured every one.

My fingernails ached with how hard I dug into the carpet, and I flinched when Q let go of my hair to dig his nails deep into my hip, wrenching me backward, so his hipbones collided with my ass.

I groaned as his fingernails suddenly broke the thin barrier of skin, imprinting claw marks. Yet another autograph, another claim of ownership.

It unravelled me.

My pu**y swelled and welcomed, it sparked and heated and melted. The orgasm started in my heart, working its way over my jaw, scalp, and spine. Every scorching trail it travelled, I trembled.

Don’t come. Don’t come.

The mantra was no use when every thrust of Q’s c**k overrode my commands. He owned me—it would be his fault I came.

“Take your punishment, Tess. Fucking take all of me.” My mind screamed that I had taken all of him. His darkness, his worst, but he didn’t mean spiritually. He meant purely physical.

He tugged on my hair again, pulling me onto my knees. Once upright, his arm latched around my chest while fingers twisted my nipple through the flimsy lace of my bra.

I reached back to weave my fingers into his hair, loving the silky thickness, the shortness, the manly feel of his scalp.

The moment he pinched my nipple, the first wave of my long-awaited orgasm swelled deep and strong in my belly. “Oh, God.”

Q froze.

His c**k twitched inside, throbbing with blood and unshed come, but he held himself dead calm, causing my orgasm to pop and fade.

I grabbed his ear, wanting to twist and scream that he finished what he started, but I didn’t dare.

“Did you come, esclave?” His voice was breathless, sinfully hot on my nape.

I shook my head. “No, but, please. Let me, Q.”

“You said those same words when you were chained and whipped in my bedroom. Remember how I f**ked you with my tongue? How you rode my mouth with your legs on my shoulders?”

His voice painted far too vivid pictures in my head. I rocked back, sitting hard on his cock, causing his length to hit the top of my womb.

He gave a startled curse before his arms banded around me, forcing me to still. “Remember?”

“I remember. I want to do it again. I want your mouth on me.”

“You’ll have to earn it,” he whispered, biting my ear, causing me to jolt in his hold.

He let me go with one arm and fumbled behind him. A moment later a flash of turquoise caught my eye as he captured my wrists, positioning them behind me.

My centre of gravity shifted as Q bound my wrists with his tie. With him deep inside and my hands restrained behind my back, I toppled forward. But Q caught me, helping steady me while lowering me to the floor. “Put your cheek on the carpet.”

Letting me angle my head, Q waited before releasing me. Blood rushed to my temples, and my tender neck screamed, but I didn’t make a peep.

My heart rate ratcheted as the helicopter swooped to the right. How close were we to Paris?

“Fuck, you look amazing like this. Tied up, impaled, completely at my mercy.” He trailed a fingertip along the crack of my ass, working down until he touched where we joined. Warm wetness smeared both of us. He stole some of it to swirl around my clit.

My legs flinched, trying to close against the sudden intensity. “Q!”

“I’m going to f**k you now, Tess. Do not come until I tell you to.”

True fear rose. I didn’t have control of my body to promise. I’d come on the first thrust. I bit my lip, preparing myself for the hardest obedience yet.

Q linked his fingers around the tie binding my wrists. Discomfort flared in my shoulders as my back arched, and legs splayed even further. The burn in my knees from the carpet turned my legs to fire.

The pace Q set was contradictory to what I expected. He started long and deep and slow. Luxuriating, languishing, pulling out almost to the tip, before slowly entering me again.

The thrice denied orgasm built again, coiling tighter with every stroke.

“Tonight, I’m going to tie you upside down and force you to drink my come, esclave. Then I’m going to eat you until you forget your own name.”

Shit, Q’s voice was an aphrodisiac. One more sentence and I’d explode.

“I’m going to do so many things to you. So many f**king sinful thi—” Q groaned, stopping mid-word as he thrust deep and hard.

He shattered the gentle rock, increasing the tempo until his balls slapped against my clit. I squeezed my eyes against the brain-warping need to come.

As Q lost himself in me, I lost myself to him. The sound of the helicopter faded away, and the most important thing in the world was the connection between us. The intrinsic link of male and female.

Q pinched my cl*t as he thrust violently, sending us forward a few centimetres. His hip bones bruised my ass as he turned savage. Gone were the long and measured thrusts. These were short and sharp and entirely explosive.

“Fuck, esclave. Fuck, yes.” He let go of my bound wrists and spanked me once—hard and biting as he rippled inside; jets of hot come set off my own reaction, and I combusted.

The orgasm thundered into being but then teetered on edge, almost as if it expected to be denied again. The pain of being held in limbo made me cry out.

I writhed and bucked against Q’s relentless pace.

“You have my permission. Come. Squeeze around my cock.” Q thrust harder, stroking my cl*t until I had no choice but to fall.

I plummeted over the edge.

I surrendered to the pulsating waves of bliss.

My entire body contracted, and every part of me supernovaed into tiny particles. The little pieces of my soul collided, before reforming into something new.

My past no longer existed. My future was uncertain, but one thing was for sure, Q tumbled me headfirst into vulnerability, stripping me bare.

When the last tremor quaked through me, it ripped me apart, leaving my head swimming, lungs screaming, and my body completely limp. The sensation of being put back together after a world-altering orgasm brought me to tears.

I’d been reborn.

Q chuckled, still rock hard inside, but his voice sounded off as if he forced himself to speak. “I could come just from you milking my cock.”

He pulled out and gently undid the tie from around my wrists. My body refused to move from the face-plant-ass-up position, and I moaned in pleasure as he wiped his come from between my legs with his expensive silk tie.

What just happened to me?

Once he finished, he stood and gathered me from the ground. Not meeting my eyes, he quickly secured his trousers and stuffed his tie into the same pocket that held my knickers.

His body was supple, sated, but his eyes were tight.

I reached to pull my skirt down, but he stopped me with his large hands. “Let me.”

When our eyes connected, I stopped breathing. Whatever happened to me, he sensed it. He saw my confusion, my fragility.

His face danced with confliction along with a trace of self-loathing.

With aching tenderness, he smoothed down my skirt, frowning at the tear in the fabric he’d caused. We breathed each other as he carefully fastened the delicate buttons on my blouse. His hands were gentle and reverent as he repaired the damage, his knuckles brushing the sensitive flesh of my br**sts.

His lips stayed tight in concentration, and I fell a little more.

Fell further into lunacy for this man who made me live.

When the last button was done he paused, not moving away. “Tess…”

I shook my head. Now was not the time to acknowledge what happened between us. I wanted to savour it. Protect it.

He nodded, eyes troubled. He guided me into a chair and did up my seat belt. Leaning over me, he gave me the sweetest smile, whispering, “I think we just joined the mile high club.”

I laughed softly as he sat in his own chair and glanced out the window. He looked pensive, completely wrapped up in his thoughts. The air between us no longer seethed with sexual tension, it hummed with emotional connection.

I knew why Q looked quiet—it was because something deeper than just sex had happened. My mind felt it, my heart welcomed it—in the moment where Q made me splinter, I let down an unconscious wall. A wall that had been there my entire childhood—a foundation so I could have some sense of happiness, all while being unloved by my parents.