I reached for his fly, helping free his hard c**k from sodden clothes. We panted and cursed, both consumed with the need to f**k. To connect. To join.

Q pushed his trousers off his hips, followed by black boxer-briefs. His gorgeous c**k jutted proudly, and I felt a moment of fear. I swallowed as Q glared with smouldering pale green eyes. “I’ll give you what you need. Don’t fear me.” His voice dropped from deep, to gravel and stone.

I nodded.

He grabbed my hip, sliding me under him, settling between my legs in one quick, possessive move. I panted, looking up. My body was too hot, heart raced too fast, and it felt as though it was my first time. The first time a man managed to fit all my fantasies into one: connection, possession, lust, passion.

Q crushed his mouth to mine, his taste filling me. His sweet, minty darkness decimated the metallic sourness from Driver putting his fingers in my mouth. I moaned, dragging him closer. I willingly gave Q my sense of taste.

I drowned in his scent, touch, taste, and sound. My heart buoyed as his groan vibrated through me.

His tongue f**ked my mouth and vision spaced; I became lightheaded. Saliva mixed with shower water and we drank each other.

Q thrust, pushing his c**k inside just a little. He froze and stopped kissing me. “Are you on birth control?”

Wow, how irresponsible could I be? I hadn’t even thought about protection. I pushed hair away, hoping Q didn’t have any diseases. I dropped my eyes. “I’m on the injection.”

“And how many men have you been with?” he demanded, lust blazing.

I wanted to say no one because the answer was a double-edged sword. Brax and been my one and only… until tonight.

Q must’ve seen the answer in my face as he nodded. “You don’t have to answer. And you have nothing to worry about from me.”

It was odd to pause and talk about protection, when we balanced on the fine edge of erratic sex, but it offered peace. It let me tear through self-restrictions, and embrace hot desires. I was truthful for the first time in my life. “I want you inside me. I need you,” I whispered.

Q’s answer was to kiss so hard, he bruised my lips. With one hard thrust, he impaled himself inside. My wetness accepted him in a smooth, sensual glide—no pain or agony, only pleasure and ecstasy. His suit rubbed against damp skin; my back screamed from hard unforgiving tiles, but I didn’t care.

Q grunted, filling me completely, digging his fingertips into my waist, keeping me pinned. “I’ve wanted to f**k you since you arrived,” he panted, rocking, building a burning fire.

I couldn’t speak; I could only focus on Q and his heat inside. He f**ked with arrogance and power. Every thrust reminded I belonged to him. An orgasm built deep, and I whimpered at the sharpness.

Q rocked harder, pressing me against the floor as we slid all over the place. “That’s it. Give me something of yours. You owe me that.” Letting restraint drop, he bucked into me, cursing in French, eyes glowing with so many things, and I felt awed by what he let me see.

My body responded: tightening, building, already forgetting the abuse from Brute.

Q bit my ear, pressing his suited chest against mine, c**k thickening inside,

heating, scorching. The fine edge of pleasure and violence unravelled me. “Come for me, esclave.”

His magic words bent me to his will, and my body no longer obeyed me. It obeyed its new owner.

I screamed as an orgasm rippled from toes, up calves, into thighs, and finally detonated inside my core. I rippled around him, banding tight, milking with every wave of release. Fireworks weren’t enough, and I climbed higher, pushed on by Q’s thrusts and smell and taste and unbridled rapture.

Fireworks jetted to comets and comets thundered to galaxies as Q pumped harder.

He yelled, “Baiser moi.”Fuck me. He reared back, arms locking as he drove into me the hardest I’d ever taken it. Smooth balls slapped against my ass; I burned, blazed, fired from his claiming. “Take my come. Take a part of me,” he growled.

Deep inside, I felt him spurt, dousing me in warmth, marking me, while at the same time giving up a part of himself.

Shuddering, the last of his cl**ax wrung him dry. He collapsed on top, uncaring about the steam-filled shower, or his ruined suit. The thrumming of his heart matched mine as we lay on the floor, unable to move.

For the first time in my life, I felt a bond. A profound connection, an intrinsic part of me belonged to him. Not just master and slave, but man and woman.

Was he the man to make my heart sing? This overbearing dom who wanted me to submit one moment, then wrapped me in cotton wool the next?

I couldn’t deny he gave me a selfish gift. My body no longer trembled from what happened. He gave me a new memory full of heart-breaking brutality. I throbbed with a residual orgasm, eerily vacant thanks to my soul-wracking cry.

Q met my eyes, and his simmering anger made me swallow. “Am I in trouble?” He looked as if he wanted to put me over his knee and spank me.

His lips twitched and he slapped the side of my ass. “Ah, esclave you’re in serious trouble. I’ll never be able to leave you alone now.”

Chapter 17

*Quail*

I expected Q to shut down and leave after our shower—too many things passed between us, and I was raw. Q avoided my eyes as he pulled out and stood, but he didn’t move to leave.

He leaned down, pulling me off the floor, before stepping out of his soaking trousers and throwing them in the bath. The wet material slapped loudly, followed by his blazer. He left his shirt on, long enough to cover h*ps but not the thick, heavy c**k between his legs. He maintained the hair down there just like he did his head. A subtle shadow of masculinity without any of the wildness.

My body tingled. He screamed man and dynamism. I was a girl with a ceaseless past, no way enough for him, but determined to try.

He took me tonight in a mixture of compassion and anger, but I wanted more. I wanted what he promised when I first arrived. The act of taking from me, even though my body would willingly give up every part to him.

I bit my lip, remembering Q fingering me over the pool table. I’d been turned on beyond anything I could’ve imagined. Hatred for him added another dimension to an already overwhelming experience. Now, I didn’t hate him, but I still wanted to struggle.

I needed Q to take me again and again. I needed him to rule me so Brute didn’t win by making me fear sex. I belonged to Q, yet he never stepped over the line from tormentor to ra**st.