Tears of Tess (30 page)

I
licked my lips as he ran a hand over his head, deliberating.

Finally,
he stepped toward the door, stopped, and turned back. Sucking in a breath, he ordered,
“Wake up,
esclave
.”

     His
voice stroked my skin; I embarrassed myself with a small pant. I couldn’t help
it—my hearing belonged to him.  

He
chuckled. “Unless you’re awake already.”

Dammit.

Coming
closer, he leaned down and turned on the diamante side lamp, casting a soft
glow, an oasis of illumination. “
Bon soir
.” His lips twitched a little
as he stared from above. I grew too hot under the covers but daren’t kick them
off. I wore a large t-shirt and shorts, but somehow they were insubstantial
when Q looked at me. Like I was a chocolate éclair, and he desperately needed a
sugar fix.

“Hello,”
I murmured, loving the thrill of lust and fear. The knowledge I’d give him what
he wanted and no longer suffer guilt. I was free from my feelings of Brax—I let
him go. It hurt if I remembered his quirks and kindness, but there was no point
torturing myself. Q owned me—that was all I needed to remember.

“I
have gifts for you.” Q sat on the edge of the bed. His warm weight pressed hard
against my thigh beneath the covers. I shivered.

He
grabbed the sheets, fumbling beneath the quilt. I yelped as his hand found my
ankle, tugging my leg out of bed.

I
couldn’t speak as he rested my leg on his thighs, running a thumb around my
bony ankle. “Something’s missing.”

His
touch resonated directly between my legs. I trembled as he bent and pressed a
possessive kiss on my shin. Reaching behind himself, he pulled a black bracelet
into view, dangling it.

I
gulped. Another GPS tracker.

“This
saved your life,
esclave
, yet you cut it off to escape. If you’d have
thrown it out the window while driving, instead of leaving it in the car, I
would never have found you in time.” His voice verged on menacing, shooting horror
into my heart.

Oh,
my God, he was right. If I hadn’t thought I’d be free and in police custody, I
might be buried with all the potatoes by now…or wishing I was.

In
one swift move, I sat upright, stole the tracker, and secured it around my
ankle. The snap of plastic echoed around the hushed space; heart thudded. I’d
tagged myself. I willingly admitted I wouldn’t run again.

Q
sucked in a breath, capturing my wrist when I went to pull away. He traced the
barcode tattooed on my flesh. His face flashed with hatred and anger, but his
ire wasn’t directed at me. My heart warmed, knowing he hated the people who
stole me.

His
fingers turned harsh, eyes captured mine. “How bad was it, when they took you?”

I
waited for anger and terror for what they did, but I felt nothing. I didn’t
know if I blocked it out, or if the rape dulled my senses.

Shrugging,
I tried to tug my arm back. “It was the worst week of my life, until last
night.”

“Worse
than me?” he murmured. His voice held an edge, almost as if his question meant
a lot more than what he asked.

Wanting
to give him something, after all he did for me last night, I nodded. “A lot
worse.”

He
shook his head, eyes unfocused. Memories swirled in their depths and I wanted
to chase him wherever he went. I wanted to
know
him. Would he ever let
me get close? Was a slave allowed to help her owner, while letting him use her
body? I didn’t know the rules.

Q
finally released me, presenting the other package. “This is for you.” His jaw
clenched as I held my hands out, accepting the large sketchpad and charcoal
pencils. I opened it and couldn’t breathe. Inside, architectural graph
paper—the exact kind I used in my university course—glowed fresh and new.

My
eyes widened. “You remembered what I told you…that first breakfast when you
kissed me.”

He
sat straighter, tension rippling in his body. “I remember everything,
esclave.
I remember how you smell, how you taste. I remember how you feel inside and how
terrified you were when I found you at
Lefebvre
’s
residence. I also know things you haven’t told me. You secretly like what I do
to you, you think you hide it, but I know that darkness in your eyes. It feeds
me, calls to me.”

He
fisted the covers, throwing them off me, exposing my body. “Why else do you
think I can’t leave you alone?”

I
couldn’t look away from his gaze; his intensity trapped me, searing with need
and want. When I didn’t answer, he ordered, “Get out of bed.”

For
a moment, I wanted to disobey, to see what he’d do, but some small part was
truly scared of him. I hustled to leave the warm nest. Swinging my legs over
the edge, I stood.

Immediately,
he grabbed my hips, positioning me in front of him. Breathing grew harsh as he
ran his gaze over my unsexy ensemble.

He
frowned, thoughts running over his face. He pushed away, stalking to the
dresser. Opening a drawer, he fumbled inside before withdrawing a lacy
G-string. I gulped as he came back, swinging the knickers on his middle finger.

“Stand
by the bed post.” His voice dropped even lower, yelling intentions in every
syllable.

I
didn’t move, fighting too many complexities to order my legs to work.

Grinding
his teeth, he grabbed my arm, tugging me down the bed to stand in front of a white
lacquered bed post. “Put your arms above your head.”

He
was so close; a heavy cloud of sandalwood and spice buffeted, turning knees to
water. I stretched, arching my back against the pillar, deliberately forcing my
breasts to touch his chest. He startled, raising an eyebrow, before reaching up
and securing my wrists with the G-string. The lacy material bit into skin, but
it wasn’t nearly as bad as being chained in the sparrow room. At least my feet
were on carpet, and no guests saw my suffering.

Q
bent his head, leaning his length against mine. His hips pressed hard,
dominating.

 I
tilted my chin, positioning lips for him to kiss me. He never closed his eyes
and pale green irises made me feel as if I’d entered a wood glen where naughty
fairy men took advantage of fair maidens.

I
swallowed hard as he came within a fraction of kissing me. But, with a crooked
smile, he pulled back. “You want me to kiss you,
esclave
. That’s not how
this works.”

Reaching
into a back pocket, he pulled free a pair of silver scissors. Fear widened my
eyes. What the hell?

“You
don’t get to choose what I do to you. Because you want me to kiss you, I
won’t.”

I
moaned, then flinched, wishing I could slap a hand over my traitorous mouth.
God,
Tess, way to sound desperate.
I didn’t want to be tied up and abused.
So
why do you ache for it?
Shit, I was sick. The rape must’ve done something,
made me a danger whore. But that was a lie. The only thing that happened was Q.
He controlled my body like a puppeteer—I had no will to disobey—I
couldn’t
disobey.

Maybe
I should try to find the centre of calm from the day I sucked Q. The safe zone
might protect from more upsetting thoughts. Save my sanity, stop me from
leaping willingly into a realm of bondage and kink.

I
closed my eyes, trying hard to tap into blank safety. Fear swelled. If I didn’t
stop my desires now, I might slide down a slippery slope, never finding my way
back to normal.

You
were never normal.
I pursed my lips,
feeling lost and confused. How could I want two things at the same time?
Roughness, freedom… both taunted with agonising temptation.

Q
took my chin in his thumb and forefinger, hypnotising me with his gaze. “Don’t.
Stay with me.”

How
did he feel me withdrawing? I shook my head, dislodging his fingers. “What gave
me away?”

Q
rolled his shoulders as if reigning himself in, bringing his energy to heel. “I
told you—I sense you.” Toned muscles stood out beneath the white t-shirt; I
couldn’t look away from the bulge in his jeans.

“Now,
stay still and present.” His face remained stoic and cool as he advanced with
the scissors, running the cold kiss of metal along my neck, dipping to my
throat. His breathing quickened as the blade nicked my collar.

With
perfect care, he cut my t-shirt right down the centre. Each snip undid me,
thread by thread, until I was sure he opened my chest, revealing a rabbiting
heart, and all my secrets.

Everything
he did symbolised so much. Q relished in playing me with unsaid words, everything
about him a mystery.

He
won’t be so cocky when I discover who he is
.
I’d use those secrets to play the same game—a sick circle of mind-trips and
power struggles. My core clenched at the thought of going head to head with Q
in a battle of wills. I didn’t think I’d win, but I didn’t care. I wanted him
to win. I could allow him to rule me—like I wanted him to. 

He
swallowed when he snipped the hem, splaying it wide, showing bare breasts and
rapidly breathing stomach. With perfect control, he ran the pinpoint of a blade
from my lower lip, down my neck, between my cleavage, to the top of my cotton
shorts.

Skin
broke out in goosebumps as he pressed ever so gently. The blade puckered my
skin, but didn’t pierce. The delicate balance of trusting and fearing him made
my heart buck out of control.

Q
seemed lost in contemplation, twisting the scissors in a circle around my belly
button. He told me not to leave, to remain rather than disappearing in my mind,
but
he
left. His face shadowed with thoughts and recollections. Things
that didn’t seem pleasurable, things that made his body tremble. I’d give
anything to follow him—to see if he lived in the dark or light.  

I
tested the boundaries of the restraints, no give at all. He’d tied the knickers
well. I squirmed beneath the blade; his eyes snapped to mine. He blinked,
casting shadows away.

Palming
the scissors, he leaned closer, wrapping fingers around my wrists as the button
of his jeans bit my belly. His clothed chest teased my nipples, making them
harden to a painful nub. “You have no idea how much I want to fuck you.”

Oh,
God. His voice activated every part. I panted breathlessly, “Why don’t you
then? Or do you enjoying torturing first?”         

He
reared back, jaw working. “Do you think this is torture? I could do so much
worse,
esclave.
He rubbed his groin against mine, pressing my ass hard
against the bedpost with his cock. “I
want
to do so much worse.” His
accent thickened, muttering,
“Je tiens à te faire hurler.
” I want to
make you scream. He didn’t say it in a kinky, playful way; he said it with
passion so nightmarish, I couldn’t see anything but whips and pain and blood.

That
did it.

My
lust switched to fear and I moaned again, but this time, it was a plea.
“Please… you don’t have to make me scream. You can take me. I’m yours.”

He
laughed darkly. “You don’t get it do you,
esclave?
Your permission turns
me off. I need to take from you to feel something. If you think I’m not like
those men who raped you, you’re wrong. There’s something broken in me, and I
need your pain to come.” He twisted a nipple with angry fingers. I yelped.

Pain
coursed to pleasure, warming, making me wet. If Q was hardwired, needing pain
to enjoy sex, so was I. I might’ve gone through my entire life, never knowing
the key to my pleasure was pain.

Q,
in his brutality, showed me something taboo… showed I liked to be dominated,
and not just light role-playing. No, I needed the real thing.

Light
shone through my brain at the realization
. I’m not a sweet, innocent girl
who wants cotton candy and sonnets. I’m a fighter, a slut, a woman who needed
to be taught her own body.

As
I stood, tied to a bed with my owner leering with sin in his eyes and promise
of hurt on his lips, I changed again. The chrysalis of who I’d been cracked
open, letting me fly free. I unfurled newfound wings, becoming more than Tess.
I became a twisted, treasured belonging, revelling in her ownership. Who wanted
Q to hurt her.

Fire
blazed in my belly; I bared my teeth, snarling. “I won’t let you fuck me.”

Everything
slammed to a halt.

Q.
Me. Time.

The
world teetered while Q tried to read me. We glared into each other’s eyes, reflecting
the same fucked-upness, recognizing the same in the other. The bond between us
flared tight, reaching with glowing shackles, binding us together.  I relished
in the binds, accepting my true identity before Q even realized what I offered.

Slowly,
Q moved, his entire body predatory, smooth, shark like. “You won’t let me fuck
you,
esclave
?” Delight shimmered in his gaze, etched with black
smouldering lust. “I’ve already fucked you. What makes you think I want to
again?”

I
thrust my hips forward, bumping an overheated core against his straining
erection. The moment I slipped into unwilling victim, Q raged with hardness.
His cock verged on iron, hard and unyielding.