Q kissed me. His lips sealed over mine with domination, spearing his tongue into my mouth. I opened to him, loving the vicious but worshipping affection.
Then I screamed as a harsh hand landed on the sore skin of my backside. Q tore his lips from mine, murmuring, “Because you’re mine. My little monster. And I refuse to let you forget it.”
My knees wobbled.
Pushing me away, he smirked. His fist wrapped the leash around his knuckles before striding forward into the dark.
I had no choice but to follow. Walking through such a gloomy unfamiliar room had my instincts screeching on high alert. I wanted to turn on the lights, but the bold way Q directed me kept me trusting—safe.
We stopped beside a wall, the light from the chandelier over the pool table wasn’t able to spread its feathers of light this far. I squinted, vaguely making out a heavy hanging piece of art in the shape of something unrecognisable. Reaching out, I touched it. It was made from hollowed metal judging by the cool slick surface.
Q stretched upward, reaching for the mooring point. The ceiling slopped, making one end of the room high, while the other was touching height. Looking closer, I noticed the industrial looking hook holding the floating piece.
“What are you doing?” I asked, giving in to the temptation of gawking at Q. Fully stretched, completely naked, his muscles bunched as he unhooked the chain and lowered the sculpture to the ground. His biceps trembled as he dragged the piece away, leaning it against the wall.
Collecting a handful of what looked like fabric ropes, he strolled back.
Coming to stop in front of me, he stood proud and almost narcissistic in his perfection. He’d fully embraced being in control—doing what he wanted.
“Remember what I once told you? How I wanted to eat you for days and there would be nothing you could do to stop me?” His voice held a tone I couldn’t decide if I loved or hated.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” His eyes flashed.
“Yes, maître.” My belly twisted with anticipation.
Q held up the intricate web of ropes. “Do you know what Shibari is, esclave?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands as he twisted and twirled the rope back and forth. He was a snake charmer, and I’d fallen completely into his conjury.
He took a step closer, ratcheting my heart rate. “It’s the art of rope and bondage. An art I’ve fantasised about using on you for a f**king long time.” His hand lashed out, grabbing my bound wrists. I struggled a little, knowing it was useless but wanting to spar with him anyway.
Denouncing him and toying with him made me wild in the past. I wanted all that he promised. Hell, I would tackle him to the ground to force his tongue to take me now, instead of making me tremble in wait. But I also wanted to make him hot. To give him his fantasy of taking me against my will.
“I won’t let you.”
His jaw twitched; head tilted slightly. “What did you say?”
“I don’t want any more ropes. But I do want your tongue.” Loving the flutter in my heart, I threw my arms around his head, jumping a little to get my bound wrists to clear his height. The moment I held him, I traced my tongue along his bottom lip, whispering, “You don’t need ropes to make me come.” Even though I’m dying to see what you do to me.
Q shuddered, kissing me hard. His tongue dived deep, conjuring a moan from my soul. His slick heat made me melt in his arms.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he grunted, walking me backward to smash against the wall. “It’s not going to f**king work.” Ending the kiss with a painful nip, he unhooked my arms. “You’re trying to get me to lose control, but for once in my life I’m enjoying straddling the line of right and wrong. I’m loving hurting you but also pleasuring you. And I know you’re loving it, too.”
The hand not tangled in ropes came up, wrapping around my throat. “God, I missed you, Tess.”
My stomach flip-flopped at the ray of truth in the darkness of our games. “I love you,” I murmured, accepting his gentle kiss.
The softness morphed to tension again as Q pulled away. His lips twisted into a grin. “You’re going to look divine.”
Unknotting the rope in his grip, he ordered, “Stand there and don’t move.”
I stood breathing shallowly as he draped one long piece over my shoulders. It tickled my skin, slinking around my waist. His face darkened with concentration and I tried to follow his quick hands.
More twists, more loops. Each rope sent my body thrilling.
Q dropped to his knees, nudging my legs apart. Looking up, he said, “I’m not a master at Shibari, so this isn’t going to be perfect.”
I inspected what he’d done so far—the thicker knots on some points, the looseness of others. Rows upon rows of ropes, leading from my shoulders and back to my hips. “It looks like you know enough.”
He smiled. “I’ve practiced enough to know how to make a harness.”
My heart stuttered at the thought of him doing this to another woman. Fierce hot jealousy filled me. My fingers curled by my sides.
Q noticed. Of course he f**king noticed.
“Something you want to say, Tess?”
I bit my cheek. There were plenty of things I wanted to say, but—oh, screw it. “I hate the thought of your past. You’re mine.”
He chuckled. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He followed the contours of my body, threading silk around my thighs, knotting them intricately.
The black colour made my white skin come alive, like a canvas covered with lashes of paint, or even handwriting—a contract of ropes.
I hated the churning in my stomach. I had no right to be possessive of his past. We all had them—it was pointless to torture myself with who he might’ve done this with.
Trying to distract myself, I glared at his tattoo, letting the birds fill my vision as Q tied the last knots around my knees.
Standing, he appraised his handiwork. Prodding a finger in one knot, and testing the tightness of another, he finally nodded.
His hand fell to his cock, stroking himself, his eyes drinking me in. “I wish I had a camera. You’ve never looked more beautiful." Pulling me forward, he whispered against my mouth, “And I said I practiced. Not that I practiced on someone. This is a first for me, too.”
A smile tugged my lips. He let me go to gather the chain from the statue he’d removed.
Undoing the carabiner, he smirked. “Turn around.”