Twisted Together
Page 29

Q groaned, stroking my inner walls, forcing my body to shatter into infinity. “Fuck, you’re tight. Keep going. Come, Tess.”
The crest was a tsunami of bliss, crashing with power. Q thrust in perfect rhythm with my contractions, drawing out the orgasm until the last wave smashed into me like a wall of fire.
Once the last ebb rattled my body, Q placed the item he used beside my head, folding his body over mine. His heat made my raw and delicate skin simmer with pain but I loved his weight, his authority. “I told you, you’d come on my fingers. Guess what the next one is, esclave.”
I mumbled something, opening extremely heavy eyelids. The first thing I noticed was the whisk. A whisk?
My eyes shot to Q’s. “You—” My voice was broken from his erotic torture. “You used that on me?” It made sense, the caustic threads of pain—multiple stripes. I hurt everywhere: my cheekbone and h*ps hurt from the unforgiving table and my shoulders burned from being tied while my ass felt like flames would combust at any moment.
He nodded—his eyes as pale as I’d ever seen. “Yes. You should see your skin. It’s a crisscross of perfection.” He pressed his erection right between my cheeks. “You didn’t answer me. Tell me how I plan to make you come next.” I knew what I wanted, but I had a feeling Q meant to drag this out. Having him inside would be the last thing I’d earn. I had to try, though. “Your cock. Please fill me, maître.”
He followed the contour of my shoulder, nibbling gently. “You haven’t earned that yet. I’m having too much fun.”
Climbing off me, taking his heat from my wounded ass, he circled the table and untied the rope holding me down. The instant I was free, he came back around, holding the leash like I would run at any moment. Even if I was terrified of what he had planned, I couldn’t run. My legs weren’t functioning; my pu**y still shivered with fading echoes of my release.
Q helped me stand, rubbing my lower back as I hissed with discomfort. When I stood upright, he looped his fingers in the silk around my wrists. Jerking me close, I slammed against his na**d body. His mouth brushed against my ear, whispering, “My tongue, esclave. That’s what’s next.” He nuzzled my hair away, scraping his teeth on my brand. “You’ll come so f**king hard. You’ll beg me to lick while I hurt you. Because that’s who you are, Tess.”
I winced as his teeth led a threatening trail down my neck. Who was I? I didn’t even remember my birthday or hair colour—Q’s lips were venom poisoning all my thoughts. “Why? Why will I come while you hurt me?” I honestly wanted to know. Had he made me this way? Had circumstances evolved me? Or had I been born with all these black complexities?
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.”
Oh, God. Am I ready for this?
My heart thundered as I shuffled in place, facing away. I shivered as Q came close, hooking the carabiner and chain to the rope harness behind me. With strong arms, he suddenly picked me up, cradling me against his front.
“J'ai besoin que tu fasses quelque chose pour moi.” I need you to do something for me, he said, nuzzling my neck.
Having his hot breath on my skin undid all my worries. “Anything.”
“I’m going to flip you upside down. I’ll keep hold of you as your grip will be compromised because your shoulders are fastened, but you need to stay as still as possible.”
My eyes flew upward to the ceiling. He was going to secure me upside down, hanging? What did you think was going to happen? I seriously hadn’t thought this through.
I swallowed my fears, nodding. Q manoeuvred my body first to face him, then sideways. I held my breath as vertigo stole me.
From vertical to horizontal, I clung to his h*ps as best I could. From horizontal to vertical, his c**k brushed my br**sts. With undeniable strength he forced me upside down, holding me steady.
I clamped my arms around his thighs, cursing the ropes around my shoulders not letting me hug him.
I jolted as a rush of hot breath brushed against my core. Oh, God.
My eyes squeezed, hyperaware of his mouth so close. I wanted it. I wanted another orgasm. His arms bunched, holding my weight. He jostled me, keeping me pinned with one arm while reaching for the hook with the other. His attention was wholly on stringing me up and not on the part of me screaming for attention.
“Hold on. I’m just securing—” His distraction allowed me time to revel in his hot form against mine.
I clutched him hard, cursing my jitteriness at the newness of what was to come. His body stretched and tightened, straining on his toes to secure the chain back onto its original hook.
The ropes tugged my back, curving around my body, cocooning me in a prison of silk.
“Let go, Tess,” Q ordered. His hands fell to my waist, trying to push me off him.
I only gripped harder. I didn’t trust it. Images of slamming onto my head gave me a phantom headache. Blood rushed to my skull, roaring in my ears.
“Let go, esclave.” Q pinched me, stepping away, forcing me to release. I swung, snapping into place, held by the chain. The ropes took my weight, tightening against my body, but not enough to strangle or cut off my blood supply. The knots Q had created kept it from slicing me.
Everything I knew was different. Up was now down. Down was now up. I felt awkward and uncomfortable and completely strange. My legs were bound loosely together, letting my knees fall downward like an upside down crouch, leaving me blatantly exposed and open.
My arms were tied to my body, giving no hope of escape.
Q disappeared and came back with a stool. With strength I’d always found such a turn on, he hoisted me higher, gradually shortening the chain until my mouth was at the perfect height.
Hip height.
Cock height.
I blinked, fighting a rush of nausea. It was surreal to be hanging upside down, so vulnerable.
Stepping off the stool, Q kicked it away. His hands whispered over my stomach, slowly changing my discomfort to eagerness.
Even upside down, Q painted an incredible sight. His legs were spread, powerful quads tight and covered in a splashing of hair. His c**k hung heavy and hard, perfectly straight and begging to fill me. His tattoo only added to his mystique and erotic allure.
Planting himself in front of me, he stroked my dangling hair before caressing my cheek. “I never thought I’d get to see you like this, Tess. I’m ready to f**king blow just thinking about all the delicious things I can do.” His touch turned dangerous as he cupped my breast. “Who’s your master?”
My eyes refused to stay open as he squeezed my nipple. “You.”
“Who do you belong to?”
“You.”
His touch danced over my sides, pushing me, making me spin slowly. His fingers trailed around my rotating body, never stopping their exploration. I flinched when he touched my burning backside and thighs, the tender skin way too sensitive.
“You’re my every fantasy come to life. I can’t believe you’re real.” His mouth kissed my upper thigh, his five o’clock shadow rasping. “I’m going to worship you.” His breath skated over my pu**y.
I moaned; I’d never been so sensitive, so aware of the predicament I was in.
His lips moved to my hipbone, nipping tenderly. “Do you know what I’m going to do first?”