Quintessentially Q

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 ass**le.

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 c**k 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 f**k f**k.” 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 h*ps 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.

Then he came.

“Fuck…” he snarled, spurting down the back of my throat, cascading warm and salty on my tongue. Wave after wave I swallowed, and still he kept coming. I choked and he pulled out, fisting himself.

With angry strokes, he milked the last of his orgasm, panting as he kept spurting, dousing me in white sticky droplets all over my br**sts.

The picture of Q towering over me, his face furious and red while eyes blazed with his release, was a sight to behold. I wanted to capture the moment, sear it on my brain, remember the ink of his tattoo, the musky taste of him in my mouth, and the knowledge I drove him to break.

With shaking hands, I unravelled my hair from around my throat, and removed as much spit as I could.

My entire mouth ached, and my pu**y felt wronged—slighted for not being f**ked and given the same sort of release Q experienced.

Taking gulping breaths, Q smeared a droplet of warm come over my nipple.

Instantly the orgasm blazed alive again, sparking, begging, setting my teeth on edge. Please put me out of my misery.

Never taking his eyes off mine, Q reached under my arms and helped me stand on unsteady legs. His face shut down, unreadable.

“Do you need me, Tess?”

I jolted with the power and ragged sex appeal in his voice. My eyes fluttered, needing to close; I was drunk on the need to come.

I nodded fretfully.

He ducked, so we were almost eye level. “Do you need my tongue on your cunt to come?”

My eyes snapped shut, battered by the image of Q licking me, biting me, making me unravel. “Yes,” I moaned.

His fingers caressed my other breast, giving it the same treatment as the first. “Will you walk around in constant agony if I don’t f**k you?” His thumb and forefinger pinched my nipple, sending waves of need through my belly to my core.

Anger rose again. What the hell was he playing at? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. “You know I will.”

He grabbed my breast hard, making me groan and shudder. I swayed toward him, trying to touch his still hard cock. If only he’d let me use it. He wouldn’t have to do anything. I could ride him to satisfaction.

But his voice was a whiplash. “Don’t touch me.”

Shock wrenched my eyes wide; my skin flushed with embarrassment and hurt. I looked deep into his gaze, searching for the reason of his denial.

He shook his head. “You broke a cardinal rule. You disobeyed me.” His back was ramrod straight, shoulders tight and tense. “You took away my control, esclave, and that’s something you just don’t do. Making me lose it is the worst kind of disobedience. You rushed me. You took what wasn’t yours to have.” His tone shimmered with warning. “I told you I wouldn’t be responsible if you didn’t do as I said.”

I gulped. I couldn’t handle another session on the cross, not unless I came first. My mind was scrambled. I needed to relax, unwind, and save my sanity.

He ran a thumb over my bottom lip, trembling with control. “Your punishment isn’t whips or chains or any other torture you seem to enjoy.”

I couldn’t stand it. I had to know. “What do you intend to do?”

Q smiled. He was two sides of a coin—one moment remorseful, the next revengeful. “I intend to do nothing.” Pressing his hand between my legs, he speared two fingers deep.

My forehead crashed against his chest as I buckled in his arms. My h*ps moved on his hand, my breathing quickened as my orgasm built super-sonically fast.

Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean. I stood wobbling, a throbbing mass of nerve endings.

“If you pleasure yourself, I will know. If you come before I say you will, I’ll deny you pleasure for a month. You’re to stay on edge until I give you permission.” He bent to kiss my cheek so tenderly. “Only then will I f**k you like you want to be f**ked. Only then will I let you scream my name.”

The sentence was torture. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I reached to grab Q’s hand. “Please.” I shook my head. “Q, please. I’ll do anything you want.”

He smiled softly, running his fingers through my hair, fanning it out like a blonde curtain over my shoulders. “Don’t do it again, Tess, that’s what I want from you.”

“I promise. Cross my heart. Never.” I tried to capture his cock, but he sidestepped me, heading toward the bathroom. “Remember you brought this on yourself. Get dressed. We’re late.”

Surprise made my voice squeak. “Late for what?”

Q chuckled before disappearing into the bathroom. “We’re going to work. I told you I wanted you to work with me. Today is that day.”

Chapter 3

You’re my obsession, I’m your possession,

you own the deepest part of me…

I ran.

I ran away like a f**king girl. My body felt foreign—thick, sated, but angst ridden and ferocious. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to scream at Tess for what she did. I wanted to attack anyone stupid enough to come within grabbing distance. I had to get the hell out of there.

She forced me.

She made me lose control.

I never lost control.

Slamming the bathroom door, I stalked to the black twin-sink vanity and put my hands on either side of a basin. Bowing over, I sucked in ragged breaths, trying to calm the rapid tempo of my heart.

My c**k still seeped even after blowing two loads in one. I almost drowned her when I exploded down her throat. It wasn’t satisfied. I wasn’t satisfied. I was a lot of things, but satisfied didn’t come f**king close.

The instant I thought about her touch, her fingers pressing so hard between my f**king legs, my stomach trembled and my cock—the bastard—grew thick and heavy.

Never before had a woman stolen what was singularly mine. Never before had someone made me come before I was ready. They knew better than to be so bold.

Tess knew better, yet she didn’t give me a choice.

My eyes squeezed shut, and all I could see was a replay.

Her hair was spun gold between my fingers as I guided her mouth over my cock. Her warm, wet lips sealed around me, my back tinged with fireworks, and my balls tightened painfully.

The rope of hair strangled her little by little and I waited for her to gag and pull away; to glare at me with accusing blue eyes and refuse to pleasure me.

But she didn’t.

She leaned further, strangling faster. Her mouth filled with delicious lubrication and she added the sharp thrill of teeth.

Everything she did was perfect, and my orgasm started slow and promising. Then she ruined it by shoving her hand behind my balls and finding that f**king spot that turned me to mush.

I flinched when her hand went where no one had touched before. Her fingertips pressed up, rubbing me directly into torment.

My orgasm shifted gears from slow to ultrasonic. Merde, it felt amazing. Beyond amazing—body-shattering, mind-blazing, backbreaking.

I jerked away, digging my toes into the carpet, trying to hold off the release, but she moved with me. She didn’t let me go. Her goddamn hand stayed pulsing, rocking, and her mouth became the perfect vessel to unload into.

My thoughts turned into one long stream of curses as I battled two conflicting emotions.