His touch teased, stroking so close to where I wanted him most. His lips landed on my ear, burning me with whispered words. “I miss your fight, esclave.” His shirt brushed against my ni**les as he leaned into me, putting pressure on my wrists bound to the ceiling. The friction sent a wave of pleasure clenching my core. “I miss your love of pain.”
My stomach lurched. My voice came out as a wisp. “I’m still the woman you fell for. Please don’t miss me when I’m standing in your arms.”
He shook his head, brushing his five o’clock shadow against my sensitive throat. “You’re not my Tess. You lied to me. You made me hurt you against your will.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t verbalize the depths of my love for him. I didn’t want to admit I willingly put myself into his power. I would let him hurt me all over again if it gave him happiness. I wouldn’t fight—and in a way that made me weak. Terribly weak.
Something skittered up my spine, entering my brain like a drop of black ink in water. A speck, hovering in crystal liquid before starting to spread.
It’s happening.
“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you again. And I mean it.” His nose trailed along my collarbone; his finger dipped lower, feathering over my clit. “But if this works…I’ll know. I’ll turn your lies back into truths.” Q cupped my pu**y, his strong fingers the epitome of him and his masculinity.
I tensed then liquefied, completely in his thrall.
“You’ll grow wet for me again. You’ll pant for me again.”
His voice tripped and warbled in my head, spreading the drop of ink, sending tentacles of black.
I blinked, trying to keep my thoughts clear. “I am wet for you, Q. See?”
His fingers spread my folds ever so gently—every touch a delicious tease.
Another droplet of ink appeared in my brain, spreading, staining, tainting.
I moaned as Q dipped a finger inside—just the tip, hovering as the ultimate tantalize. “You’re damp, esclave…not wet…not yet.” He dragged me closer, sliding his finger deeper.
My mouth popped open, consumed with his touch. I wanted to pant and moan but the rapidly spreading blackness dragged me further and further from his web. My body jerked as a rush of surreal coldness took me hostage.
Q sighed, the tinge of anger-sadness creeping back into his voice. “We’re running out of time.” He pressed his finger deeper, urging my body to melt and swell. “There’s so much I want to say to you.” His arm imprisoned my lower back, jerking me closer while his finger thrust upward. His heat undid me all while more black droplets stained my mind.
It’s taking me.
Q kissed my cheek, flexing his finger in the perfect way. “Tell me why we’re doing this.” His tone wasn’t a demand, more like a beg. He needed to be reminded himself. He sounded scared….lost. “Talk to me, or I’ll stop.”
I could barely remember how to speak; my mind spinning and dipping with every new droplet. “To turn my lies into truth,” I moaned, bowing in his arms as his finger moved harder, turning dampness into wetness. “You’re going to fix me…”
The blindfold stole my sight, amplifying my awareness of the drug-induced mania building inside.
“I trust you, Q. I—I want you.”
He chuckled, hiding the lace of pain. “You want me? You want this?” He drove his finger deeper, his knuckles connecting with sensitive flesh.
My pu**y rippled, sending a wave of sensation into my lower belly.
My head fell back even as a torrent of black liquid and fog filled my mind. I wanted to stay in his arms forever. I wanted to never let go of the tingling erotic pleasure.
I wanted more. More, more, more.
“Yes—”
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“You want more, pretty girl? Beg.”
I gasped, fisting my hands, tugging on binds hanging me from the ceiling. No!
“Keep talking and I’ll make you come. I’ll give you a release,” Q whispered, slowly penetrating me with another finger.
My mind had taken over, contaminated with whatever he’d given me. My body switched from hot and needy to fearful and cold.
White Man flickered in and out like a faulty hologram. “You want it? Beg. You know you’ll beg eventually.”
“Please—not again.” Pincers weighed down my mind, dragging me deeper into the inky puddle residing in my brain.
I wanted nothing more than to cling to his hard form. I didn’t want to be lost again. I didn’t want to spiral into fog.
Squeezing my eyes, I tried to claw my way back to reality.
Q held me tight. “Let go. Don’t fight.” His two fingers stroked my inner walls, stretching me, keeping me tethered to a hypersensitive body. The coax was dangerous—fooling me into thinking I wouldn’t suffer if I surrendered. I would suffer.
I shuddered, flushing with a wave of desire even as I swam upstream in a river of blackness.
Leather Jacket appeared, hazy and unformed, his foul lips twisting into a grin. Waiting—waiting for me to be washed into his torture once again.
“Q—I don’t want to. Please. Don’t let them take me.”
“It’s okay. Trust me.” His touch no longer had the power to keep me sane, every passing heartbeat dampened the desire in my blood, favouring brittle panic instead.
Ropes around my wrists. Blindfold on my eyes. I was helpless. I can’t do this. Swaying forward, I found Q’s neck, latching onto his slightly salty skin. I bit. Hard.
Q jerked, his fingers twitching inside me. “Tess...” he growled. “Stop fighting.”
“You like it rough, don’t you, pretty girl. We’ll sell you to an owner who will look after you.”
No. I would never stop fighting them. Not after what they made me do. Made me become.
But no matter how hard I clambered to stay coherent I slid down and down, deeper and deeper.
Q groaned, his fingers diving harder. Now there were no lust sparkles or pleasure, now all I felt were bullets of shame. My h*ps spasmed backward, dislodging Q's touch. I couldn’t do it anymore. His fingers fell away, leaving me empty and all alone.
I can’t fight it.
My heart went sluggish, a curtain of drugs falling over me.
“Tess…” Q’s voice lost its perfect baritone, morphing into my enemy. “I need to know the truth—why did you sacrifice yourself? Why did you let me almost rape you?” French accent traded for Spanish, and Leather Jacket swirled into being.