Tears of Tess
Page 42

“Nous sommes les uns des autres,” I repeated, kissing her deeply. Her soft groan sent my sanity spiralling out of control. How did I manage to send her away? Kick her from my room after she let me whip her to the point of drawing blood? I’d been a bloody saint with willpower of an angel.
I sacrificed everything, because I refused to break such a perfect woman. A woman who pranced into my life with spark and fire, threatening to burn my very existence to the ground.
“I can’t believe you came back,” I murmured, heart galloping, still unable to believe the blood oath we made. I smeared residual crimson on her throat, whispering fingers across her collarbone.
My eyes dropped to the tattoo on her wrist. Holy f**k, what was she trying to do to me? She spoke to the darkness inside, and despite her fear, stood up to me. I wanted to pummel her into the ground to make her obey, but her rebellion was also my undoing.
I’d never be free of her.
Tess Snow.
Tess esclave.
Mine.
All mine.
I can’t wait any longer. She came back on her own terms. It’s my turn now.
I stood, shoving my c**k into my trousers, wincing at how f**king hard it was. Damn woman cast a spell on me. Tess blinked, watching with those intoxicating Bambi eyes, begging me to f**k and hurt her.
I groaned. If I did this, there would be no going back. She would become everything I needed. I had to trust in her vow. The promise she would be strong enough. I hoped to God she was right because I gave up fighting.
The monster roared, beating his chest, salivating at the thought of what was to come.
I was done and she was mine, in every sense.
“Come.” I grabbed her tattooed wrist, jerking her from the library. Stalking through the foyer, her little pants sent lust into a realm off insanity. Fuck, I needed her. To scream and writhe and bleed.
What sort of man needed to make a woman bleed? Not a sane one. I’m infected. Poisoned. Destined for hell.
I slammed my fist against the hidden door beneath the stairs, taking violence out on the wood panel.
Tess flinched, but didn’t move away.
I raised an eyebrow as the door opened, giving her one last opportunity to admit she made a huge mistake. Not that it would make any difference. I wasn’t letting her go again. Willing slave or not. The beast preferred unwilling, because I was sick. So sick.
“Je suis à toi,” she panted.
I gritted my teeth. Fuck, yes, she was mine. No one else’s. She was lucky I didn’t hang and quarter the stupid boy she went home to. Idiot. Sleeping beside her every night—touching her. Couldn’t he see the unique treasure he had? My chest swelled with pride. Tess left him for me. She was too much for a boy. She needed a man with a demon inside.
I didn’t think I’d ever find a female beast with contorted desires like mine.
But she found me.
My back rippled with tension as I dragged her down the stairs. The lights clicked on automatically, illuminating the dark teak bar, pool table, and further a music recording studio, and sauna.
Tess didn’t say a word as her eyes fell on the pool table, chest pumping. Goddammit, I loved touching her that night. I’d been so ready to rape her, to try and get rid of the sickness inside in one swoop, but she fought too much, made me too hot. I wanted the agony of dragging out the suspense. I wanted to torture myself with the insanely painful urge to fill her with my cock.
I was rather proud of my strength that night. If I had raped her—who knows if she could’ve handled everything else I did to her.
Tess bumped into me, unable to tear her eyes off the table. I wrapped tight, imprisoning arms around her, growling. “Remember my fingers inside you, esclave? Remember how wet you were? Even then, your body knew you belonged to me.”
She shivered, tight and tense, but malleable and feminine at the same time. “Are you going to finish what you started that night? Take me over the pool table?” A pink tongue darted between her lips, tempting me beyond belief.
Fuck, I could barely stand my c**k ached so hard.
“No. I have another idea.”
She sucked in a breath, pulse strumming in her wrist where I held.
Rational thoughts smashed the horny beast to the side. I panicked. How the hell would this happen? How could I hurt her and then…not? Would the insane urge to beat the shit out of her ever leave? I’ll constantly have to watch what I do, how hard I do it. I could never resort to being my father. Never.
I spun her, trapping her against my chest, rubbing my c**k on her belly. “Your skin is too flawless. I want to scar it.” I squeezed my eyes closed. I sounded like a sick f**k, but shit, the thought of marking her permanently did insane things to me.
She wiggled, thrusting h*ps against my thigh, riding me, deliberately driving me crazy. So brave, so stupidly brave. “You’ve already scarred me. You just can’t see it.”
I sucked in a breath. Images of her soul ripped to shreds because of what I did made me flinch.
Forcing the thoughts away, I grunted, “Just so we’re clear, I’m your master and you’re mine… you’re esclave. I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to f**k you, and when we’re done, I’ll try to give you what you want. I’ll try and talk, or chat, or whatever you want me to do.” I sighed heavily, tensing as blackness claimed me. “But I can’t promise I’ll be able to.” Trying to be semi-human, I demanded, “Do you still want to do this? Knowing I might not be able to do anything but take and take. Until you can’t give anymore? Until I wring you dry?”
She nodded, biting her lip, face tight with need. “Oui, maître.” Grey-blue eyes hot, full of sex and yearning. She bowed her head, blonde curls hid her face; a dominant thrill shot through my body.
The freedom she granted—to allow my darkness to mix with hers—was indescribable. I wanted to crush her to death in an embrace, and never let go. I wanted to f**k her so hard she broke in my arms. I wanted to kiss her brow and nurse her back to health once I hurt her. I wanted so many things. So many things I never thought I could have.
I couldn’t stop staring. She arched up, pressing soft, breakable lips against mine. “Maître, punish me. I deserve to be punished for f**king another man while I was away from you.”
What. The. Fuck?
My body slammed to a halt. My world spun with brimstone and hell. I wrapped fingers around her throat. “You dare admit that? Are you suicidal?” I squeezed until true fear popped into her eyes, and it fed me. Shit, it fed me. The fear, the fragility. A delicate bird I could wipe from existence so easily.
Horror tempered my rage; I forced my fingers to relax. Get a grip!
“Not suicidal, but close if you don’t touch me. I’m on a knife edge needing you, Q.”
Hearing my name on her lips ignited the fuse I tried so hard to stop from exploding. I was done holding back. No more talking.
Grabbing her hair, I dragged her to the crystal bar in front of the pool table. I wasn’t in the mood for games. I was in the mood for alcohol and getting wet.
I pressed her over the bar, revelling in her moans, her cries, her sexy pants. “You’ll be sorry you said that, esclave. You want to see how dark I’ll go? Well, you can’t. Not until you prove your promise. Not until I trust you’re strong enough.”
I wrapped my fingers around the base of her skull, placing her cheek against the cold granite countertop.
She writhed, pressing her ass hard against me. Goddammit, this woman.
“Does it make you jealous? Do you want to wipe away the memory of him with your cock? Because I want you to. I need you to. Q… please…Q.”
Holy shit, who was this little animal? Did I create her, or was she always this twisted? My skin sparked with tingles. Emotions I never experienced before exploded. Happiness. True, unbridled happiness.
I shook her for good measure. “I’m so f**king jealous of that boy. I was jealous of Franco flying with you back to Australia. I was jealous of Suzette for earning your friendship. I was even jealous of myself when I f**ked you. Fuck, yes, I’m jealous. Insanely jealous.”
Her mouth twitched. “Good. I’m happy.”
Shaking my head, I grabbed the back of her grey dress—the same dress I bought her—and ripped it down the back. She trembled as the loud snarl of fabric echoed. Once it was destroyed, I splayed it open, exposing her back, ass, and thighs.
My palm twitched, and I couldn’t stop it. I spanked her. Hard. Probably too hard, but she cried in such pleasure, my c**k jerked and I almost came.
Instantly, her white flesh bloomed red with a hand print. I groaned, caressing her, wanting more, always craving more.
When I froze, trembling with the urge to go too far, Tess looked over her shoulder. “One smack? That’s all you feel I deserve?”
I literally couldn’t take it. I hit her. So. Damn. Hard. My palm fired and stung. Tears sprang to her eyes, and I ground my c**k against her ass, throbbing with unshed come.
Needing to give my hands something to do, I opened the mini-bar below and pulled out a vintage bottle of icy champagne.
Ripping off the gold foil and popping the cork, I shuddered with so much pent up need, I couldn’t think straight.
Tess watched, tears glittering on her cheeks and eyelashes. Her face pressed obediently against the counter, not saying a word.
Once the sharp tang of alcohol filled the space, I gave her a tight smile, then upended the expensive champagne all over her back, drenching her hair, making her shiver with bubbles and chill.
Tess moaned, writhing, h*ps bucking for mine. I growled, swigging the last dregs as I thrust against her red slapped ass. Grinding, rocking, I wanted to do so much to her, but my need to come took all control out of my hands.
She wants to see how dark I’ll go. We had a future to look forward to, full of sin and debauchery. I would teach her the meaning of blackness, initiate her into my world.
A thrill shot up my legs and into my belly. A future. Together.
My mind raced, unable to stay on one concise thought. She gave me everything so willingly, on a platter of sex, ready for the taking. In return, I owed retribution from her kidnappers. I wanted to lay corpses at her feet and prove I may be a monster but I was her monster.
A beast who would turn savage on those who wronged her.
Ducking down, I tore the white G-string off with my teeth, dragging an eager tongue up the side of her back, lapping over ribs.
Her ribs were virgin, no tattoos, unlike mine. It’d taken four years to get it exactly right, adding more and more birds as I saved more and more slaves.
The fact Tess inked herself with a bird told me how deep she already went. How much she wanted me. All of me.
The taste of her and champagne fogged my brain. I needed more.
Slamming to my knees, I grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs with force. She slipped, hands gripping the countertop. “Q… God, yes.”
Her voice vibrated through me, sending lust into overdrive. I stood back up, yanking my tie off in one swipe. Her eyes widened. “No, don’t gag me. I’ll be quiet.”
I cocked my head, glaring. “Esclave, obéi.” Obey. She closed her eyes, parting lips slightly, allowing the material to bind her. With the two ends behind her head, it felt like reins. Controlling her completely, ready to be ridden into a frenzy.
Tying the ends quickly, I resumed my position between her legs. Her exposed cunt above dripped with wetness and champagne. It was the most delicious sight I’d ever seen.
Groaning, I licked the bubbles, tracing them up her inner thighs.
She bucked, spreading her legs even more.
Fuck, she tasted amazing. Soft and smoky and hinting at orchids and frost.
When I flicked a tongue over her clit, she spasmed, moaning, tears oozing. I dug fingers into her thighs, keeping her steady. My c**k ached in the confines of my pants. I wanted to shove it inside her.
But first, I wanted to lick and drown in her taste. Without warning, I spurred my tongue into her slit. She screamed, muffled by the gag, inspiring me to lick harder. The sharp tang of champagne drowned in her powdery sweetness. Nectar just for me. A mind-blazing aphrodisiac.
I wanted to bite, to brand, to rape.
I lost track of time as I worshipped her pink flesh. Who needed time when everything I needed was right here. I never wanted to eat again unless it tasted like Tess.
But my c**k wept with pr**cum, throbbing with urgency to replace my tongue and f**k. Games would have to come another day. When I wasn’t about to spurt like a f**king school boy.
I stood, breathing hard, wiping Tess’s juice from my chin. Fumbling with my belt, my eyes widened as violence took me over. I yanked the leather from the loops, weighing it in my hands.
With lust-heavy eyes, Tess looked over her shoulder. Her lips were split and grimaced thanks to the gag, cheeks ruddy red with passion.
I folded the belt in half, palming the metal buckle. I slapped my palm, wincing at the sting, loving how she panted harder.
I cocked my eyebrow. “Is this punishment enough for f**king another?”
For a moment, she paused. I expected a no. A whimper, a plea to run. Instead, with a sharp blue glint in her eye, she shook her head coyly. She cocked her jaw, body language asking me to remove the gag.
I didn’t want to, but obliged.
After I untied it, she sucked in a breath as I lay the drenched tie on the counter. For a millisecond, she didn’t speak, intoxicating me with her pants. Then that sexy, dangerous glint appeared again. She snapped, “Don’t f**king think about whipping me, you monster. I told you, I don’t want this. Let me go.”
Oh. My. Fucking. God. Denial. Rape. Anger. Delicious delirium.
My eyes snapped closed and the beast raged to life. “Fuck, esclave. I told you not to tempt me.”