Inching forward, the darkness oozing in my blood took full rein. I wouldn’t deny myself tonight. I didn’t think I could. The whiskey wasn’t helping—blurring barriers that had no right to be blurred, erasing the cage inside my mind.
Stopping in front of Tess, I rested my hand on the top of her head. Fisting her hair, I forced her neck upward. “Rapide et violent.” Fast and hard.
Tess sucked in a breath; her eyes darkened. “I don’t want it. Let me go.”
I froze as a delicious ripple of pleasure fed me from her non-consent. My head cocked, letting the blackness billow. But I paused.
I knew this woman. I loved this f**king woman and that one sentence shone a spotlight in the otherwise dimness of my soul.
“Je t'aime, Tess.” I leaned forward, crashing my mouth on hers, dragging her upright. Her hands landed on my chest, shoving me with feeble strength.
Her tongue entered my mouth, sharp and sleek, completely at war with her earlier conviction of not wanting it. To prove my theory of her goading me—just like so many times before—I stopped kissing her.
A little kitten growl sounded in her throat as I let her go, waiting to see what she’d do. Pulling back, her eyes burned. Then she threw herself into my arms, knocking me backward, gluing her lips to mine.
Damn this woman. This insanely incredible woman.
I groaned as her tongue re-entered my mouth, tasting sweet, fruity, entirely Tess. Her hands went to my belt. Kissing and fumbling and tearing, she clawed her way past the beast, letting me choose this—letting me let go in a healthier way.
I wasn’t the only one with the need for brutality.
Time to use my woman like a master. Time to let the inner monster free just a little, all while keeping him on a f**king leash—proving once again I was better than him. I could control it. I had the power.
I’m stronger than I think.
The clink of my belt coming undone and her violent little hand latching onto my length hurtled me into thick desire. Grabbing her throat in a possessive chokehold, I smiled coldly.
Time to play.
“Dare, Tess,” I whispered, layering my voice with lust and smoke.
Her eyes flared wide; her fingers twitched against the bare skin above my cock. The rustle of the netting over the silk of her dress sounded loud as we remained frozen together. Pinching the material, I knew what I would do first. It had to go. All of it. In the way I preferred.
Reaching to my back pocket, I pulled out the one item I always carried. Some people stored a lucky stone, a trinket, or nothing at all in their pockets—I carried a bit of the past in mine.
Tess frowned at the glint in my palm. “That’s the dare?”
I chuckled. “Nope. That’s the foreplay.”
She bit her lip. Her hands fell into the fountain of grey around her body. “Not this, Q. It’s too beautiful.”
The room was kissed by gentle light, making shadows come alive, morphing into creatures of the night scurrying over the white carpet, darting behind the curtains. I tilted my head, purring, “It will look even more beautiful in pieces.” I wanted the floor to emulate the gravesite of destroyed clothing just like the day I’d caught her cutting up the items I’d given when she first arrived.
Tess spread her legs a little, balancing in her sexy strappy heels. My eyes dropped to her delicate toes peeking, her calf muscles taut. “I want you in nothing else but those heels wrapped around my shoulders when I lick you.”
Tess swallowed hard, her eyes glazing with need.
“I can do whatever I want to you, your dress….Why is that, Tess?”
“Parce que, je suis à toi.” Because, I’m yours.
A rumble crept up my chest. “You have no idea how much I love you speaking French. It makes me so hard. So f**king hard.”
My unbuttoned trousers didn’t give any relief to the throbbing in my cock. I wanted to skip foreplay and sink deep inside her. I wanted her screaming as I raced to the orgasm coiling in my blood. But first…I wanted to torment.
Looping my fingers through the scissor handles, I asked softly, “Do you remember what I did with these?”
Tess’s eyes locked onto the silver scissors, her cheeks flushing with memories.
“Do you remember me cutting you? Slicing off your clothes that night before I took you over the bed? I hit you hard but you came harder. That was the moment I knew. The moment I knew you craved pain like I needed to inflict it.”
“Yes. I remember,” she panted. Her chest pinked, casting her white skin with the tempting shade. Her gaze shot to mine, bright and feverish. Was it the fear of where I would f**k her tonight or the martinis?
I hoped it was the fear.
“Are you drunk, esclave?”
She shook her head, hypnotising me with her blonde tresses rippling over her shoulders. “No. I was tipsy before, but now…now I’m drunk on other things.”
My c**k thickened. Snipping the metal blades, I pressed the cool bite against Tess’s neck where the dress tied at the back. Her breathing quickened. She swayed, but made no move to stop me.
Holding eye contact, I cut the halter. I shuddered with longing as the material freed, drooping down her front. The swell of her br**sts made my mouth water. I wanted to bite her. I wanted to see my teeth marks in her pale tender flesh.
“Dare, Tess.”
She wobbled on her feet as I trailed the tips of the scissors over the tops of her br**sts, dipping possessively into her cle**age. She moaned, flinching from the prick of the blade.
“You dare me to let you cut off my clothes?” She shrugged, shivering as I did another cut. “You clearly don’t need my permission, maître.”
I smiled, deliberately dragging the sharp tips up from her cle**age, transfixed by the red welt I left behind—I didn’t break the skin, but Tess was so sensitive, flushed with blood. “That’s not the dare,” I murmured.
Her gaze swirled with confusion. “What is then?”
“How many times you’ll let me cut you.” A full body shiver rippled through my muscles at the sick sentence. I should be repulsed, embarrassed by my need to mark her—especially because she let me brand her—but I wasn’t. I’d told her the ‘Q’ sigil stopped those urges.
I lied.
I still needed the power over her mortal body. I needed to see her bleed for me, cry for me.
Her eyelashes flared wide as her pupils dilated—half with panic, half with lust. “How many times?” Rocking back, trying to avoid the ever steady snip down the centre of her dress, she hesitated. “Cut my dress as much as you want—leave me skin alone.”