I kissed him, fully intending to leap from the bath and force him to take me on the floor.
But Q shoved me away. He stood tall, towering over me.
The glitter from whatever Q gave me made him immortal in my eyes. Made him divine and god-like.
My heart seized as he ripped down his boxer-briefs. Not giving me time to drink in his impressive erection, or the way his muscles bunched and shadowed, he reached behind me and with a possessive shove, pushed me away from the side.
His long legs spread, climbing into the bath. He gripped the edges, lowering himself into the water.
His powerful thighs entrapped my body while strong arms wrapped around me, dragging me against his chest. The water level rose, licking at my shoulders.
I shuddered with how hard and hot he was against my back. It was like lying against living marble.
Q’s voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating through mine. “You say you’re free, esclave. Tell me…free from what?” His hands stroked my stomach, drawing ever widening circles.
He expected me to speak? I’d lost that ability the moment he slipped behind me.
When I didn’t reply, Q raised one hand out of the water. Cupping his palm beneath a dispenser tiled into the wall, his pectoral bounced me as he pressed the plunger, filling his palm with coconut shampoo.
I squirmed, very aware of the hardness digging into my lower back. I didn’t want to speak—I wanted to spin in his embrace and slide onto him.
Oh God, the mental image was too much.
Q brushed aside the wet curtain of my hair, sucking on my ear. “Dis moi.” Tell me.
My breath came fast; I did my best to obey. “I’m free…from everything.”
He tutted under his breath, dropping his mouth to press against the oversensitive brand on my neck. “I want details.”
I suffered a full body convulsion as Q’s hands landed on my head. His long, strong fingers slinked through my wet curls, spreading shampoo with slow, sweeping pressure.
I sank further against him, morphing into liquid. My vision danced with purple shooting stars, lighting up the bathroom.
How was I supposed to think when he touched me that way? Each stroke both relaxed and tensed me.
“Tess…I’ll stop if you don’t tell me.”
My eyes flared wide. I never wanted him to stop. Ever. “I’m not afraid of baths anymore.”
He laughed softly. “I’d hoped that would be the case.” His soapy hands slipped down my neck, trailing over my clavicle, cascading to my br**sts. “Not wanting to be in a bath with me would be terrible news.” His teeth nibbled on the top of my ear forcing me to suck in a shaky breath.
Tracing back up, the pads of his fingers massaged my scalp, sending scents of coconut to envelope us in a tropical world. Bubbles and froth trickled down my chest, looking like expensive spun glass and jewels.
“I’ve never washed anyone before you, esclave, but this is the second time I’ve had the pleasure.” His fingers drifted to the back of my neck, rubbing and coaxing with fierce ownership.
I moaned. Loudly.
“Do you remember the first? La première fois que je t’ai lavée de ton passé?” The first time I cleaned you of your past?
I let my eyes flutter. Memories of him holding me in his lap as hot water rained from above, filled my mind. I’d been na**d while he wore a soaking cashmere suit. He’d replaced himself with memories of the rape. He’d taken all power of the memory, switching it into something I could survive.
Q grabbed me tighter, murmuring, “You’re mine, esclave. Mine to care for. Mine to fix. I’ll allow you to cry while I wash you, but the moment you’re clean, you’re to stop. Do you understand?”
I blinked through tears, shuddering so badly I couldn’t answer.
“Everything about tonight will be forgotten, and you’ll only remember what I do to you. Is that clear?” He shook me. “Answer me.”
I nodded. There was relief in being ordered to forget and I would obey.
I’d never been able to see love. I knew what it felt like, how it hurt as well as healed, but until that moment, I didn’t know what physical form it took. Now, I did. It was a swirling world inside me, interlocked with the swirling world inside Q. Our two dimensions superseded our bodies and existed not in us but between us.
It was knowledge.
The knowledge I’d be there for him, and he’d be there for me.
It was blissful comprehension of never being alone and always cared for.
“I love you, Q.” I couldn’t hold back the tears this time, completely overwhelmed with gratefulness. “You truly are my master. Not because of the power you have over me, but because of the power you give me.”
Q’s fingers twitched in my hair; his chest rose and fell, sticking to my back. His heartbeat thudded, and I knew I wouldn’t have one lifetime with this man—I would have multiple. I refused to believe death would tear us apart. He was me as I was him. There would be no separating us.
Q dropped his hands from my hair, wrapping his arms around me. So much was promised in that embrace. So much exchanged and acknowledged.
I missed you.
I know.
I’m so sorry.
Don’t be.
We’re not broken anymore.
He hugged me as if I’d float away and only remained locked to him by force.
“I missed your fight, mon coeur.” My heart, he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss on my temple.
“I’m not afraid of fighting back anymore,” I said softly, immersed in his incredible warmth.
“I’m glad.” With a fierce squeeze, he let me go, returning his hands to my head. We stayed silent as he massaged more bubbles through my curls, before pushing my slippery body down his.
Once upon a time, I would’ve fought at the thought of being pushed under water, but now…I didn’t care.
“Do you trust me, esclave?”
“Forever.”
I let him push me under, holding my breath while his worshipping fingers washed the suds from my hair. I was aware of every touch, every inch of him. I was nothing but a ball of oversensitive nerve endings.
Once the bubbles were gone, Q hoisted me up his body, dragging me along his very hot, very hard erection.
I want him. Completely. No holding back.
The thought whizzed around my body, spreading eagerness and courage. I wanted Q to take me like he’d always wanted. I was no longer afraid. He wouldn’t go too far because I understood what lurked beneath all his darkness.
Ownership. He wanted to brand me, mark me—all in the name of claiming. But he already owned me completely—he no longer needed to compete for that right.