Twisted Together
Page 26

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 It was a swirling world inside me, interlocked with the swirling world inside Q. Our two dimensions superseded our bodies and existed not in us but between us.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.
Shifting, I reached behind and wrapped my fingers around him. He jerked in my touch, blood throbbing beneath the velvety skin. He felt hotter than usual as if he’d bruised himself, aching with injury.
Q sucked in a breath, pressing my h*ps to collide harder with him. He drove up against my back, rubbing himself in my fist. “Fuck…” His teeth sank into my shoulder.
Pain.
My heart raced at the sharpness but there was nothing else.
No fear.
No guilt.
No other thoughts than pleasure.
The past was dealt with. Finished. The lost parts of me were fixed and out of the wrapping new. The allure of painful excitement existed once again in my heart, and I wanted nothing more than for Q to deliver.
There was no guilt to wade through. No tears at the memory of Blonde Angel or Hummingbird. My grief for them was as it should be: respectful, mournful, but not life-consuming terrible.
I wanted the taboo.
I craved the forbidden.
I panted for the prohibited.
Q thrust up, dragging me from my thoughts. The purple haze was back along with the consuming need to connect.
I wanted him. No walls or cages or second thoughts. Him. All of him.
“I’m ready,” I whispered. “Don’t hold back.”
Q shook his head, grinding his c**k into my tight fingers. “Don’t say things like that. Things you don’t mean.”
I wished he could see into my heart—hear the truth resonating off its walls. “I do mean it. I’m ready and willing and oh so terribly wanting.”
He froze. Sucking in a breath, he didn’t say a word, as if he couldn’t understand what I offered.
Q had healed me. It was time for me to heal him.
Convince him.
While Q stayed immobile and silent, I murmured, “I want your belts and whips. I want your nails and teeth.” Twisting in his arms, I lay on top of him, belly to belly, chest to chest. I locked eyes with his.
He seemed lost, bewildered, completely bewitched. “I mean it, Q. Everything. All of it.”
His face slowly evolved from unreadable to suspicious to hopeful. His eyes tightened, shadowed with apprehension. “Are you sure?” he croaked. Clearing his throat, he added, “I never want to hurt you again. I told you that. Why would you ask for it when I already said you don’t have to give me something you don’t want to give.”
“Because that’s not true.”
He glared. “What’s not true?”
“That I don’t want to give it to you. I do. I need to say thank you—I need—” Bowing my head, I kissed him softly.
He never closed his eyes as if searching for a lie, disbelieving I could want everything he’d always hidden. “Will you take me?”
His Adams apple bobbed, swallowing hard. The scepticism swiftly changed to restlessness. His h*ps spasmed against mine, searching, seeking. “This is your last chance.” His fingers gripped my ass, pressing me hard against him. “Last chance to back out.”
“I don’t need it.”
Q’s eyes fired with need. “Tess?”
My body melted under his stare. It was all I could do to keep eye contact and not kiss him senseless. “Yes?”
“You let me do this, and I’ll take you so far into my world, you’ll be lost forever—mine for eternity.”
I smiled. The cloudy haze in my brain sent exquisite ripples through my muscles. I had no doubt I would be lost, but I would also be found. I would leave my world permanently. I would be initiated into Q’s completely.
Q suddenly tensed; his lips thinned. “J’ai une demande.”I have one request.
“Name it.”
He kissed me hard, melting my muscles, shattering my mind with purple stars. When he pulled back, his voice was flat and slightly cold. “You ask me to be myself. And I want to. How I f**king want to. But, Tess…I need you to promise. I’m not so f**king heartless to hurt you, make you cry and scream—because believe me I will—without a way out if you need it.”
His eyes pierced mine. “Remember the word you used the night you told me it was over?” His voice sounded bitter, miserable.
I hated I’d hurt him so badly. I had a lot to make up for. “I remember.” My hand left the water, dripping with droplets to cup his cheek. “I’ll say it if it gets too much. I promise. I won’t let you force me back into my tower.”
He nodded, tiny lines appearing around his eyes as he concentrated. “You say the word and it’s over. It ends. You say sparrow, and I stop. Tu as compris?” Understand? His gaze dropped to my lips, waiting to see my oath rather than just hear it.
Wanting to give him my vow in the language he’d been born with, I whispered, “Moineau. Je sais que c’est le mot de sécurité, mais je ne vais pas en avoir besoin.” Sparrow. I know the safe-word, but I won’t have need of it.
“Why not?” Q asked.
“Because I’m always safe with you.”
Q guided me forward, leading me through the dark.
My damp hair clung to my back while my equally damp body stayed warm, wrapped in a towel. I couldn’t stop looking at Q. Even in the gloom his muscles cast shadows, making him look not of this world. The perfect V, disappearing into the towel, made my mouth water for sinful things.
I didn’t know what lived in my system but the incessant need and sparking excitement completely overshadowed it. I was no longer high on substances—I was high on Q and what he would do to me.
Q’s fingers entwined with mine, leading me to parts unknown. He looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure I hadn’t changed my mind. I hadn’t. I wouldn’t. I wanted this.
“It makes sense. The darkness,” I whispered.
Q chuckled. “I doubt it.”
I frowned. What is his reason? Mine was a guess—but it made sense—to me at least. It made sense because of what he said before kidnapping me. I studied Q’s na**d back, thrilling with the knowledge he was all mine. “You want to keep the dark as the first stage of the crescent moon. The eclipse before the dawn.”
Q slammed to a halt looking as if the symbolism knocked him on his ass. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. But you’re right. That does make sense.”
Curiosity filled me. “What was your reason?”
His lips twitched, but he shook his head. “We’ll go with your idea. Come.” Pulling me forward, he descended a set of stairs which appeared ominously from the gloom.
It led to nowhere—nothing but pitch black.
My heart rate picked up, spreading the haze of magic around my veins. Visions of sexual discipline and delicious reward swarmed me, instead of terror.
Wrists Bound. Mouth kissed. Q’s tongue between my legs.
I wanted to run headlong into pleasure.
Not speaking, Q tugged me down the stairs, going slower as we both lost our vision to blackness. He moved effortlessly in the dark. Despite his slower footsteps, he seemed to become one with it—absorbing it.
Slowly, my eyes adjusted from black to shadows. Outlines of wall fixtures and large islands of furniture showed a chasmal room. My bare toes sank into thick carpet; I shivered as the silky strands tickled my soles.
Q guided me toward a large shape in the centre of the room. I couldn’t make it out. Yanking his hand forward, the inertia made me trot, swinging like a pendulum on his arm. I gasped as he spun me to face away, crowding me against the hard object.
He pressed his h*ps against my ass, rolling himself, deliberately taunting me with everything I wanted. My heart exploded with desire; I rocked back into him with no restraint.
He groaned low in his throat, grabbing my h*ps with bruising fingertips, driving harder against me. Fighting my violence with his—gluing us together in a quick flash of passion.
“Recognise it, esclave?” His voice dropped several decibels, sounding more and more like a luciferian master. His h*ps never stopped pulsing, scrambling my brain and any hope at conversational skills.
With shaky hands, I reached forward, following the satin of polished wood, dipping my fingers along the ridge to…softness.
Felt?
“A pool table,” I whispered.
Q fisted my hair, tilting my head to the side. His mouth descended on mine, a tongue opening the seam of my lips effortlessly, despite clamping shut. The moment his tongue entered my mouth, a finger plunged into me, hard and fast.
“Oh, God.” My mouth opened wide; I trembled with the onslaught—the act of ownership. He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t sweet.
“This is mine. Everything is…”
I knew what he wanted. The word balanced on my tongue but I swallowed. I would never say it.
“Mine,” he growled.
The flashback ended as suddenly as it began. The wetness between my legs increased remembering the power, the need, the desire we both shared. It didn’t matter I’d been sold to him. It didn’t matter I hated him—my traitorous body loved him from the second I saw him at the top of his staircase.
Q followed my train of thought, leaning over me. His na**d chest stuck to my shoulders, prickling with overheated need. “You were so wet for me. So eager, even while telling me to f**k off.”