Текст книги "Twisted Together"

Автор книги: Pepper Winters

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

Chapter Ten

We were nothing before, now we’re completely sure. Each other’s possession, obsession, we’re free just you and me

What the fuck was I doing?

Agreeing to play a juvenile game? It wasn’t just a game—it came with disastrous consequences. There was no way I would have any luck playing it. I didn’t mean to keep Tess in the dark—but there was a lot of my past I would never talk about. Things I refused to even remember or contemplate. Things I’d forced so far inside, I could almost pretend they never happened. I didn’t want to show vulnerability by drinking, even if I refused to answer.

And I definitely didn’t want to let her know just how nervous I was. Something about tonight…it was…off. I couldn’t be sure if it was lack of sleep and the strain from yesterday, or if I had a right to be concerned. Either way, I didn’t need Tess panicking over nothing. It was my job to carry the burden of safety and I’d finally fixed her—I refused to believe my time was almost up.

Damn motherfucking time.

But you’ll get into her head. Free access.

Even if she refused a question, I would know what topics to chase; I’d understand her better by her avoidance, as much as her acquiescence.

But that would work both ways. Tess would know—even when I refused to tell her.

Was I in denial? Possibly. But it made me a happier person not having to deal with the shit coating my soul. Or the evilness encroaching on our future.

A pair of green eyes filled my mind.

Fuck.

It’d been so long since I let myself think about her. Forcing her far away—pretending she never existed. It was easier that way. Liveable that way.

I dragged a hand through my hair, desperate for more whiskey. I wanted to be seriously drunk for this—but then my mouth would be loose—my reactions compromised. Tapping my ankle against the chair leg, I let the small scabbard and knife strapped to my calf comfort me.

I can’t be drunk.

My tongue would forget to lie; the truth would spill free—Tess would know exactly what I wanted to keep hidden.

The only way to get through this was to stay stone-cold sober.

Looking at Tess, I forced my heart from tripping like I’d taken a vial full of cocaine. Tonight was all about tripping her up. She wanted to play? Fan-fucking-tastic. I’d use it to my advantage, then I’d fuck her like I’d been dying to do since I’d strapped her to the cross in my bedroom.

Tess took a hearty drink, hesitation clouding her face. She caught my eye, only to look away with a flicker of a smile. Great—she was nervous. As she should be, because I was about to rip into her past, learn all her secrets, and ruin any idea of privacy.

The waiter appeared with more drinks; I waved him away once he’d delivered. I’d eyed him thoroughly when we first arrived—wondering, suspecting. But he seemed harmless enough.

Taking a deep breath, I glared at Tess, tasting all the questions I had for her—wondering which one to start with. I’d wanted so many times to get inside her head—now that opportunity was all mine.

What’s your secret fantasy?

If you could change a part of me—what would it be?

How many men have kissed you?

I knew how many sexual partners she’d had. Goddammit, I did not want to go down that line of questioning. Already, anger scalded my veins at the memory of walking in on that rutting motherfucking bastard Lefebvre raping her.

My hands curled. Shooting him had been too kind—no sense of justice for what he’d done. He’d gone after Tess because of my fucking father and his empire of trading women. My own flesh and blood used them worse than possessions—carelessly killing them when they were no longer tradable, fuckable. Goddammit, don’t think about him either.

Family.

I knew nothing about Tess’s family. That might be a good line of questioning.

Why have you never mentioned your parents?

The pain in my heart made me physically wince.

Nope, couldn’t go that way either. The moment I pried in that area of her life, she’d turn it around and ask me. Family was strictly out of bounds.

Christ, what else was there?

I’m exhausted, and we haven’t even begun.

Would Tess really want to know I lost my virginity to a slave who I’d saved before sending her home to her father? Did she really want to know the sick and awful thoughts plaguing me on a daily basis?

Shit, I should stop this right now, before any harm could be done. It was ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.

Tess took a large gulp of her drink.

I paused. The panic in my system faded a little; I narrowed my eyes. Tess’s cheeks were flushed, her body not as effortlessly poised.

A smile spread over my lips. I had to stay sober, but this entire game would play right into my hands if I got her drunk. If she lost all inhibitions any question was answerable, and anything I wanted to do to her when we got back to the hotel would be welcome. If she wasn’t sober my anxiety of being in public and the horrible feeling of dread would go unnoticed.

If I got her drunk—I was free.

I grabbed my tumbler of whiskey, saluting her. “Cheers. Here’s to Truth or Dare.”

She smiled, clinked glasses, then took a large sip. False courage already. I wanted to laugh. This would work. Then I frowned—why was she so nervous? What the hell was she so afraid to tell me?

A plate smashed in the kitchen, ratcheting my heartbeat as every muscle prepared to wrench my knife free and kill. Kill them before they could kill me.

Because that’s what they wanted. That’s what I refused to think about and never wanted Tess to guess.

Silence stretched between us; I threw a large mouthful of the fiery liquid down my throat. Curling my hand around my glass, I muttered, “I’ll go first.”

Tess looked up, her eyes popping wide. “Oh…okay.” Her fingers played with the stem of the martini glass, trying to hide her apprehension. She couldn’t hide it—not from me.

“I know you have an older brother. Why don’t you ever mention him?”

Go hard or fucking go home. I wanted to know about her family—hopefully she’d be too drunk to remember to repay the question to me.

She gasped, leaning forward. “How do you know I have a brother? I never mentioned him.”

Silly girl. I’d sent her back to Australia. But I never stopped watching. How could I when I knew I’d fallen head over fucking heels that night she gave me everything? I’d taken her pain virginity—I’d welcomed her into my clutches, then released her—knowing I’d ruined her but unable to keep her against her will any longer.

I raised my eyebrow. “I’ve put a tracker in your wedding ring—did you honestly think I wouldn’t check on you from time to time in Melbourne?” Time to time—meaning every fucking minute. I’d been an obsessed creep.

“You spied on me?” she whispered.

I shrugged. “Spied…kept you safe. Same difference.”

She laughed. “Hardly. But okay—if that’s your first question. I’ll answer it.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Yes, I have an older brother. His name is Samuel, and he’s twenty years older than me. He wanted a younger sister about as much as my parents wanted another child.”

My heart pummelled against my chest at the thought of Tess growing up in a household with no love, company, or connection. Assholes. Maybe they deserved payback. My mind ran wild with ways to make them suffer.

Her family would never see a cent from me. Ever.

“Why get pregnant then? If they only made your life a misery—what was the point?”

My brutal question didn’t faze Tess. Her fingers turned white around her glass, but she answered bravely. “I was a mistake. My father had a vasectomy but it failed. They never forgot to tell me that every year.” She dropped her hand, playing with the tablecloth. “When I turned twelve, they pretty much stopped pretending to raise me. I was self-sufficient in their eyes. They embraced retirement. It worked well for them—having a younger daughter craving attention, I did almost everything they asked me to do. They had a live-in maid, and a terrible cook, for free.”

My heart wanted to claw its way out of my chest. She’d been a slave to her own family. Fuck me.

Then she’d become mine. No wonder she took to housework with Suzette so easily. It was normal for her—a regression to the past she’d tried to escape.

Shit, this game sucked. Even though it was me asking the questions—her answers were fucking me up. I vibrated with anger, frustration, and a need to deliver vengeance.

I wanted some asshole to come charging through the door intending to kill me, so I could stab him over and over and trade my anxiety for revenge.

“Why didn’t they adopt you out? That would’ve been the right thing to do if they had no intention of raising you right.”

Tess pursed her lips. “They’re very old-fashioned. The same reason why they didn’t get an abortion. They gave me life and made the ‘sacrifice’ to raise me.” Clearing her throat, she waved her finger. “No more questions. You’re breaking the rules. You only get one question and now it’s my turn.”

Oh, shit.

Straightening my back, I clutched my glass, ready to drink before she even asked her question. My lips were sealed. If I was going to ever admit parts of my life prior to Tess, I wouldn’t do it in a restaurant. However, as far as privacy went, we had tons of the fucking stuff. No one paid attention to us. No one sent my hackles rising. And Franco sat behind us in a separate booth only metres away for protection.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Tess took her sweet time formulating a question. “You never mention your childhood. Did you have a happy upbringing? Tell me about your mum.”

Ah, fuck. Definitely not drunk enough for that question. Out of all my family, my mother was the least shrouded in lies and monstrosity. So answer it. I gritted my teeth, keeping an eye on the door as a man in a black suit strolled in.

Fine, I would answer that one.

“She died when I was young.”

“Oh, that’s awful. How?”

My mind drifted, bringing to life a woman who I vaguely remembered.

“Quincy?”

I popped my head into her boudoir. I wasn’t allowed in there unless she summoned me. I’d just turned twelve and would be leaving for boarding school soon in London. I couldn’t wait. “Oui, mère?” Yes, mother?

“Come here. It’s like I haven’t seen you in months.” It wasn’t quite months, but it was definitely a week or two. I tended to avoid her—avoided the lisping, tearful woman who I’d never been close to.

She gathered me in a hug, clogging my throat with peach schnapps and lavender oil. “You stay away from your father, you hear me? Just stay away.” She burst into tears; I unwillingly hugged her back.

I knew why she wanted me to stay away from him.

I knew his darkest secret.

 “Q? Are you going to drink, answer, or dare?”

I shook my head, dispelling the memory. This game successfully stirred old thoughts I wished would remain buried. I wouldn’t put myself through it again. I wouldn’t be able to stop her from entering my mind if I pursued that line of recollection.

I drank.

The easiest of my family members to talk about—yet, I couldn’t. Fucking didn’t have the strength.

The man in the suit moved to sit in a booth. On his own. My leg twitched, brushing my knife against the chair leg. Why doesn’t he have a date? The beast inside broke its hibernation, sniffing for a threat.

Tess frowned but let it go. Silence fell between us. What question could I ask that wouldn’t spin around and bite me on my ass?

Tess rushed, “You said you share your father’s name. If you hate it so much, why didn’t you legally change it?”

My fist curled around the glass as dark rage seethed in my gut. He was definitely not up for discussion—in any form.

“Let it go, Tess. Family is not permitted in this stupid game.” I looked into my glass, swirling the amber alcohol. I was tempted to swig again, but…she already knew the answer. It wouldn’t make a difference as I’d already admitted to it more than once.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I said, “I kept it because it’s a daily punishment. A reminder that no matter the temptation, I will never become him. The man named Quincy was a fucking monster—those genes live in me. I can never forget that.”

Tess reached across the table, grazing the back of my hand with cool fingertips. I recoiled from her touch, nursing my drink. I didn’t like this fucking game, and I couldn’t stop the anger swirling inside.

My eyes fell on the man again. He seemed innocent but the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The beast inside sharpened its claws, ready to attack.

Were we being stalked or were my senses overrun with suspicion?

“Q…you’re many things but you will never be him.”

You sure about that, Tess? I didn’t have the urge to go dark yesterday because I’d been high on love—intoxicated on doing the right thing and healing her—but what about next time? Would I still be tamed, or would I eventually want more than she could give me?

I laughed coldly, brushing the subject away. She wanted to pry—fine…I had just the question. “My turn.” Glaring, I asked, “You told me you fucked your old boyfriend when you went back to—”

Tess’s cheeks flared with temper. “I didn’t go back. You sent me away. Don’t confuse the difference.” Her annoyance shimmered around her like heat waves, matching my anger, feeding, weaving…thickening the air between us.

This is getting dangerous.

Alcohol, prying into each other’s past—it was a recipe for a screaming match or worse, me losing control.

“Fine!” I glowered. “I sent you back. Not that that’s the issue right now. What I want to know is, why the fuck did you tell me that? Hadn’t I scared you enough? Why did you deliberately provoke me when you knew what I battled with?”

Tess lifted her glass. The alcohol brushed her lips. Her eyes locked with mine, refusing to answer.

I balled my hands.

But then she lowered the glass without drinking. “Because I sensed you needed to be pushed. I sensed your unhappiness. I know you’re only truly happy when you let go.”

Goddammit, I’d been afraid of that. She was way too reckless—always giving me things she wasn’t strong enough to give.

“So you tied a bow around your pretty fucking neck and threw yourself into a life where I could do anything I wanted?”

She glanced quickly around the restaurant, eyes burning with heat. “Yes. And you know why? Because I need pain like you need to inflict—you taught me—”

“Taught you or made you?”

She planted her hands on the table, trembling with temper. “You didn’t make me anything, so get off your ego trip and listen for once. I learned about my dark desires way before you. I stayed with a boyfriend who I loved as a brother because I was too damn afraid of being alone again—but I always knew I wanted more. Needed certain things. If anyone used each other in this scenario, it was me using you.”

She slouched back in her booth, taking a gulp of alcohol.

Franco pulled the curtain aside, revealing his table and his cocky smug-ass face. His eyes darted between us, mirth glowing in his green gaze. “Not that I mind listening to this, but keep your voices down.” He winked at Tess. “For the record—you’re doing a damn good job getting answers I’ve been wondering about, too. Keep it up.”

Pointing a finger at me, he said, “Don’t make me hit you for swearing at your fiancée.”

I snarled, reaching to smash his face, but he jerked the curtain back into position, chuckling at my fucking expense. Bastard. Absolute bastard.

Needing to do something with my hands, so I didn’t sucker-punch my head of security, I drank. The swallow was small—I’d finished my second whiskey.

Exchanging the empty for a full one, I nursed it. Looking at the man alone in his booth, I tried to calm myself, noticing he’d ordered and nibbled on a breadstick. See? Nothing to worry about.

I risked a glance at Tess.

Her eyes were down; her glass also empty. She looked up, catching my eye. Giving me a tentative smile, she whispered, “I don’t think I want to play anymore.”

But I didn’t learn anything new. I hadn’t got nearly enough out of her. She started this—I’d say when we finished.

Pushing the new martini toward her, I muttered, “It’s not over until I say it is.”

She shifted in her seat, picking at the grey netting on her dress. “I don’t think this game is meant for people like us.”

My eyes narrowed. “Des gens comme nous ?” People like us?

“People with too much darkness—too much to hide.”

My skin bristled. My mind filled with images of every dark thing I wanted to do. How could I want to do such god-awful things to her, when I was madly fucking in love? How could I sit there and argue when every protective instinct was focused on threats I couldn’t see but knew were coming?

I sighed. “You wanted to play, Tess. So play.”

Her blue-grey eyes met mine. “Fine. I can’t remember whose turn it is.”

“Mine.” Was it? Who cared—it was now. “Do you have a middle name?”

Tess paused, stunned at my seemingly innocent question. “Um, Olivia.”

My heart thawed, letting go of the lacing anger. “Olivia. Tess Olivia Mercer.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “Not yet…but I hope—soon.”

I let a tight smile spread my lips. “Sooner than you think, esclave.” Two days to be exact. Two days before I could relax, knowing she would be cared for for the rest of her life if anything happened to me.

For some reason, I liked her not knowing—creating the surprise. Fuck, I still had to call Suzette. I’d shoot her and bury her in a shallow grave behind my garage if she so much as invited one person I didn’t know. And Franco’s entire team of bodyguards would have to restrain me if she’d invited camera crews. This was private, and I wouldn’t share my life for no amount of money, company promotion, or sick human curiosity.

“Do you have a middle name?” Tess asked. Ah, so her ploy was to parrot all my questions. I’d have to stick to basic rapid fire, lulling her into a sense of normalcy before sneaking in what I really wanted to know.

 “No. What was your favourite movie as a child?”

Her eyes filled with innocent happiness. She laughed. “It’s a little ironic—but Beauty and the Beast.”

I had no idea why that was ironic, but I let it go. She asked, “Who’s your favourite band? I know you like music—you played enough when I first arrived.”

The question was more loaded than she thought. I had a favourite singer—who happened to be a good friend and Tess would meet her soon. “Yes. Most of the songs I played were originals by her.” Taking a sip, I mulled over another question. “What are you most afraid of?”

Tess blushed. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot.” Twirling her glass, she admitted, “Crickets.”

My eyebrow rose. “Crickets. Out of every single venomous, eight-legged, sharp-toothed ferocious carnivore, you’ve decided to be terrified of a bug that doesn’t have fangs or a lust for human flesh?”

She squirmed, flushing redder. “Yes. Don’t mock me.” Her eyes flashed. “Do you have any siblings?”

My world screeched to a halt. The beast inside tucked its tail between its legs, howling at the crack in my carefully fortified cage.

The one question I would never answer—even on my death bed. No one knew. Not even Frederick, who knew most of it. This game was over. I was done.

I drank the entire glass. The whiskey hit the back of my throat with a hot knife, licking my stomach with sickening heat. The alcoholic fumes shot up my nose, making me a menace to anyone who came too close.

Tess’s eyes shot wide, very aware what my answer meant. Denied a response but ultimately given one at the same time. “Oh, my God. You have a sister or brother?”

Had.

And I’d refused to think about her for so many fucking years. But the pain hadn’t lessened—the nausea hadn’t faded.

My voice dripped darkness and warning. “Don’t, esclave. That one is completely off limits.”

My sister’s green eyes consumed my thoughts, begging me, streaming with tears.

I was five when I first saw her—she was my earliest memory. I didn’t even know her name. But she was my sister. I would’ve known even if he hadn’t told me. We looked the same—matching jade eyes, identical dark hair. I found out later she was fifteen when I was five.

Taken and demoted from daughter to whore by the man who’d given her life.

The memory took me by the balls, hurling me back into filth.

“You little shit, what are you doing in here again? I’ll fucking chain you to your bed if I catch you lurking where you don’t belong.”

I turned to run, but he grabbed the cuff of my collar, hauling me backward. “Where do you think you’re going?”

My eyes spilled with useless tears as he pulled me backward. Back toward the girl I was fascinated with, hanging from the ceiling. Something caught my attention; I whipped my neck around, horror making me freeze. A man slouched against the wall, a lewd sneer on his lips. He was huge, hulking, evil.

“I think you need to see what happens to members of this household who don’t fucking obey their father.” My tyrannical père threw me to the floor, kicking me firmly in the ribs. Before I could scream, he caught my chin, angling my face toward the beautiful, crying girl.

She shook her head, jangling the chains around her throat, sending saliva dribbling on either side of the ball-gag in her mouth.

She was an angel. So pretty. So gentle. So endlessly sad.

“This is your sister, Quincy. And it’ll be the first and last time you’ll see her.”

I squeezed my eyes against the horror of what came next. I was young but not young enough. Her image haunted me for the rest of my life.

The nameless sister who died two months later by my father’s hand.

He was right. I never saw her again.

I growled under my breath, desperate to hurt, throbbing with the need to tear men like my father apart. I’d only found out her name when I inherited the Mercer estate. Birth records at the local hospital claimed she’d died when she was ten, due to pneumonia. Her name was Marquisa Mercer. And she no longer existed. Thanks to him. The fucker.

“Q—Q—” Tess leaned across the table, shattering my black-riddled world, slamming me back to the present. “Are you—”

I was done before. Now, I was completely and utterly ruined. Hurling myself to my feet, I grabbed her wrist, yanking her from the booth. “We’re leaving.”

Franco scrambled out from his table. Taking one look at me, he gritted his teeth and went to settle the bill.

The man in the suit didn’t look up. My worries about him were unnecessary. It didn’t mean I felt any safer. Especially now. I couldn’t stay in public when I felt this way—this sick and twisted way.

“I’m sorry, Q. I’m truly sorry if I upset you.”

Swallowing back the rage, I locked away the memories where they belonged. Acting my fucking ass off, I jerked her against me, murmuring, “You didn’t upset me, esclave. I’ve just had enough of Truth. It’s time to Dare.”

* * *

Pushing Tess roughly into the bedroom, I slammed the door.

The security of a lock and walls did little to calm me. I couldn’t deny the icy warning growing more and more prevalent in my blood. I wanted to ignore it but it lived on the edge of my brain—taunting me with…when.

Franco had dropped us off at the hotel, and I’d barely waited for him to pull to a stop before yanking Tess from the BMW and into the foyer. I needed to use her. I wanted to pour the darkness out of me and into her light. I needed something to get rid of the disease inside—the disease of wanting to hurt.

Balling my hands, I advanced on Tess. My cock, sensing prey, leapt to attention, punching against my belt with lust. “I need to take you fast, dirty, fucking hard, esclave. I’ll hurt you—if that isn’t okay– tu dois fuir.”  You need to run. My voice thickened as my vision clouded. The beast stretched, sensing violence in its future.

Her spread over the bed.

One droplet of crimson on the white carpet.

Her with my belt around her neck.

Her screams as I drove relentlessly into her.

Her tears as I licked her cheeks.

Tess spun to face me, her body quivering in the grey dress. My teeth ground, hating the material for hiding what was mine. I wanted to tear it into pieces. I wanted to destroy it.

Tess’s face paled, her feet propelling her backward. “Q—I.” She held a hand to her chest, drawing my attention to the swell of her breasts, the soft fragility of the woman I wanted to ravage. “What—what are you going to do?”

I laughed darkly. “Don’t ask me that. I won’t fucking bullet-point it.” I need to give you pain—just like you gave me by reminding me of Marquisa.

Her lips parted as a rush of terror painted her cheeks. “Wait—what happened to dare? Dare me, Q. Don’t just take, give me an option to say no.”

I shook my head, hunting her toward the bed. “Don’t tell me to wait. You don’t tell me what to do. That game was utterly ridiculous. I don’t want to play anymore.” My neck ached from the overloading of tension; the back of my eyes sprang with a headache—all warning signs I was losing control of the monster living inside.

“Get on your knees.” I sidestepped, blocking her dash for the bathroom. I gave her the option to run. But running would only make it worse. She pirouetted, heading toward the thick curtains hiding us from downtown Rome.

Her hair was wild while the skirts of her dress kicked up with her panicked steps. My heart changed from thundering nastiness to fracturing with a small smidgen of restraint. She was mine. I couldn’t destroy what was mine.

Shaking my head, I pinched my brow, forcing the headache to simmer.

A gentle thud made me look up. Tess bowed forward on her knees, her curls mixing with the grey of her dress.

Ah, fuck me. Seeing her so submissive—ready for me—made the headache roar along with a howl from my soul.

The huge curtains behind her looked like a silver waterfall, constantly shimmering with the illusion of liquid thanks to the lamps around the room.

My earlier threat of taking her in full view pressed against the glass filled my mind. She’d be fucking perfect, splayed and on display. My cock twitched at the thought of driving into her while people watched. The knowledge they’d want what I had would twist my mind until I rode the fine boundary of sanity and monster.

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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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.”