Twisted Together
Page 20

Step inside and no longer care. Step inside and hide.
I squeezed my eyes, fighting the seduction. I had to be strong enough. I was strong enough. Q asked me to trust him—I wouldn’t run. I was done running.
Seconds ticked on without me; I didn’t know how long I stood there. Time played tricks with me, delivering false memories of Rio and Mexico. White Man had never been my capturer—it had been Q all along. Q drugged me. He beat me.
I clamped down on the gag, forcing myself to chase away the lies. I focused instead on the iciness of my hands from lack of blood and the unrelenting ache in my shoulders from being trussed. I wanted to sit. I wanted to roll my spine and stretch. But all I could do was hang and wait like an animal headed to slaughter.
Harsh fingers touched my cheek.
I jolted, cursing my heart cannonballing around my chest. Q undid the gag, pulling it free from my mouth. I groaned in relief, wiggling my jaw, lubricating my dry tongue with saliva.
His fingers clamped around my chin, pressing against my lips. “Take this.”
I stiffened, trying to move my face from his probing fingers. My eyes remained veiled by the blindfold; I yearned for sight. I needed to know where we were. I needed to latch onto Q and know I wasn’t alone.
The pressure on my lips came again, demanding. “Take it,” he snapped.
My stomach somersaulted. He’s trying to drug you. Just like them.
My hands clenched and I repelled away. “No. What are you—”
“Don’t speak. You’re not allowed to speak.” Two fingers entered my mouth by force. The taste of salt and citrus shot right to my heart. This was so wrong.
My teeth ached to bite. To sever the invasion before my mind could turn against Q. I was wrong when I said I was strong enough. I wasn’t. I wanted nothing to taint my love for him—and this—this would murder everything I’d tried so hard to retain. “Stop. This is a mistak—”
Q’s touch turned from harsh to brutal, placing something acidic and foreign on my tongue. “Swallow.”
Tears stung my eyes; I fought in his grip, shaking my head violently.
Never again did I want the fog of hallucinogenics or mind-twisting chemicals. What the hell is he thinking? He knew how bad my withdrawals were. He’d seen how hard it was for me to crawl out of the smog.
Q breathed hard in my ear, muttering in French, cursing in a stream of anger. His arm wrapped around my thrashing body, tilting my head back. His hand came under my jaw, clamping it shut. “Swallow!”
I whimpered, soaking the blindfold in gushing tears.
“Do it or I’ll hurt you.”
My heart pounded; the tower no longer needed to beckon—I inched closer on my own. Fear drove me forward. The horror at being forced to take something that would remove all my mental power.
It would all disappear the moment I stepped inside.
Oh, God. What the hell were we doing? We were tempting fate—waving an invitation at everything we ran from—enticing horror into our lives.
I stood trembling, disobeying. The acidic pill slowly dissolved on my tongue, making me nauseous. I would let Q do anything but drug me. Anything else but that.
Q sighed. The anger in his voice faded to grief, shedding the theatrics, showing the actor beneath. He kissed my ear with incredible softness. “I need you to take it. It’s nothing strong—it will last an hour or two, max.” His tongue swirled around my lobe making my terror-laden body warm and begin to thaw. “Please, Tess.”
I moaned, shaking my head, trying to free my chin free so I could talk. I didn’t want to swallow. I had to make him see how terrified I was of drugs.
His fingers wouldn’t let me go, letting the pill dissolve even further. “You have to believe in order for me to bring you back. Remember?” he murmured. “I won’t be able to help you if you know it’s me. It will ruin both of us. Please…you’ll be safe. Je promets.” I promise.
I shook my head for the fiftieth time, my eyes wild and damp beneath the blindfold. All method of communication had been stolen. I couldn’t appeal or argue. Q held me firm, fully intending to shove me head first into a chasm of horror.
Swift panic shot through my body.
Q’s right. No matter how much I loved him I would end up hating him for this. I wouldn’t be able to stop the connection between him and my past.
I shuddered, acknowledging the truth. I had to go back. Completely. Truly. There was no faking this. No cutting corners. And I couldn’t know it was him driving me deeper.
With a groan of sorrow, I swallowed.
“Good girl,” Q whispered. He paced around me, his fingertips dragging around my neck. Stopping in front again, his hand slid into the material I wore, cupping my breast. “We probably have about fifteen minutes before that takes you away from me.”
I jerked, testing the ceiling restraints. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want pain. If he raised a whip or paddle, I wouldn’t have the strength not to enter my tower. And once I stepped inside—I wasn’t coming out. I wouldn’t be able to.
Q spread the front of the gown open, his hot breath tickling my skin. “Fuck you look incredible, esclave.”
I sucked in a harsh breath as his mouth descended on my nipple. His arms came around, dragging me close. Every ripple of muscle and sweep of his tongue sent a jagged bolt of passion into my core. My body reacted instantaneously, knowing any moment everything I knew would be stolen from me.
After what happened, I wanted his touch. I needed to feel. To be soothed and assured that whatever stupidity we were about to do wouldn’t hurt us. We’re doing it for the right reasons.
Q’s mouth was hot, wet, full of sinful fire. Everywhere he touched seemed amplified—my mind making it intense and visceral. I arched into him, pressing my flesh further into his mouth.
He groaned, licking, sucking. His arm clenched hard, possessing me completely.
When will it affect me?
I bit my lip as Q nibbled gently, his mouth trailing from my nipple up to my throat. His teeth grazed over my tingling skin. “You’re all mine. Completely at my mercy.” His voice layered with husky lust.
My eyes popped wide as a new fear rose. Was he strong enough? Would he be able to break my chains and not lose himself in the process?
Q hugged my tense body, sensing the reason for my panic. Planting a kiss on the ‘Q’ branded into my neck, he murmured, “I have it under control. When it takes you, don’t fight. I’ll keep you safe.”
My breath caught. There’d been another time when he said I was safe. At his office. With his birds on top of the world. He lied.
My heart skipped; a rush of sickness raced in my blood.
Is it affecting me?
My mouth went dry. I smacked my lips, trying to lubricate my throat to speak. “Q—” I croaked.
I moaned as Q undid the cord around my waist, spreading the fluffy material wrapped around my body. He sucked in a harsh breath, ragged passion echoing in the sound. I stiffened as his fingers trickled from my cle**age and down my stomach. “Do you have any concept of how much I miss the woman I fell in love with?”
My heart squeezed at the sadness in his voice.
His fingers kissed my ribcage, stroking so soft it was almost a tickle. “I miss your fire.” His touch dropped a little, flaring over my hips. “I miss your strength.” His fingertips turned inward, tracing my lower belly, brushing through the trimmed hair between my legs. “I miss you taunting me.”
His scent of sandalwood and citrus drugged me far more effective than anything he’d given. I willingly gave myself to the heady combination. Q owned all my senses now. Not just my sense of touch, taste, sound, and sight but also my instincts, obedience, and trust.
He owned everything.
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.