Tears of Tess (40 page)

Oh,
God. Oh, God. I’m coming…

“Tu
es à moi
.” You’re mine. Q leaned back, using my
weight as a counter leaver, driving upward. His cock so hot and hard,
stretching me to breaking point.

My
heart sprouted wings, and flew. The build-up of the release rose and rose,
never peaking. Fear laced with need.
Too intense
. I didn’t think I’d
survive it.

The
gag blocked air, and the lack of oxygen made my head swim. All I could think
about was Q and his nails and his cock and his ragged breathing.  

Q
leaned back further, head falling as he fucked impossibly harder. His hipbones
bruised my inner thighs as he gave me the rampage I needed.

“Fuck,
Tess. Fuck yes. Take it.
Putain, ta chatte s'adapte à ma bite si bien.”
Fuck,
your cunt fits my cock so well.

I
couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold it any longer. My entire body split in half,
but the release
still
didn’t crest.

Please,
please, God. I need… I can’t. I… I…

“Look
at me,” Q growl-panted.

I
obeyed and drowned in his smouldering green. Tension thrummed, consuming, and
another element stole us. We were no longer master and slave. We were two
rutting animals focused on one goal.

“Master,
please…” I begged around the material in my mouth.

Q
stiffened with power, thrusting as his eyes flared wide and lips parted. “I’ll
give you what you need.” His body convulsed and a low angry groan ripped from
his throat. A hot pulse of semen filled and that was all I needed.

I
combusted.

Every
atom in my body detonated and fired. My pussy fisted around Q’s relentless
erection and I screamed. Q’s mouth latched onto my neck, biting. I transcended from
my mere mortal body, riding wave after wave of eye-popping, brain-splintering euphoria.

Q
grunted, thrusting in time to my release; teeth never let up on my collarbone
and a slick trail of blood trickled from my throat where he bit. Some primal
part of my brain went wild. I loved that he needed me so bad, he broke my skin.
I loved how delicate his tongue was, lapping up my essence.

I
shuddered as swell after swell continued, slowly getting less intense. My feet
cramped and my entire body felt as if I’d been run over.  

With
trembling fingers, Q undid my gag, then my wrists. Catching my weight, he
cradled me, folding us the floor. We fell in a tangle of limbs onto the thick
white carpet, covering it with sweat, come, and drops of blood.

Q
didn’t withdraw, and somehow managed to twist me so I faced away. Not saying a
word, he tucked me closer, spooning me with his hard body.  

His
heart thudded against my back, matching the erratic pace of mine.

I
snuggled closer, blissfully content. Q hurt me, but adored me, all at the same
time. He gave me everything I needed. The intimacy between us couldn’t be
described and I shivered as he unclamped my nipples, rubbing them gently.

He
sighed deeply and yawned. The alcohol in his system no doubt left him depleted.

You
used me, but you kept me safe.
I tried to
transmit the thought. My body wasn’t capable of speech. Q mumbled something,
pulling me closer.

The
sun pinked the sky outside and Q twitched, already drifting into oblivion.  

Tonight
had changed my life. Q may make my soul weep and tear itself into pieces but he
made it operatic with joy, too. My soul didn’t just sing, it rejoiced.

I
finally found a place where my twistedness belonged.

In
Q’s arms.

*Pheasant*

P
ain
and achiness woke me.

Memories
of last night swirled, thick and fast. My body clenched, remembering Q’s
rampant fucking, his drunken ramblings about girls and winter. He gave clues; I
just had to figure out the metaphors to understand.

And
I wasn’t capable right now. My brain was sludge, body hissing with lashes and
bruises. I felt used, abused, and entirely adored.

I
shifted, trying to get comfortable. The thick carpet cushioned, but also tickled.
Q moaned and held me tighter, a muscular arm banded around my stomach.
Incredibly, he was still inside, flaccid but still big enough to be very aware
of the intrusion.

I
rocked my hips a little, trying to rouse him.

His
breathing changed from deep to shallow. Slowly, he stiffened, filling me like a
balloon, stretching until I ached with reminders of how hard he took me last
night.

I
bit my lip as his nose brushed aside tangled hair, kissing softly.

With
a soft groan, he rocked.

My
eyes closed as dexterous fingers captured my nipple, rolling tenderly. So
different from the angry dominance from last night. Q wasn’t the one fucking me
this morning. It was Quincy.

I
moaned, pushing back, matching his rock. We languished and delighted, not
chasing a body-splitting orgasm, but more a gentle glow.

His
hand trailed from breast to core, playing with my clit as the rock turned
serious, claiming.

I
whimpered as Q wrapped his leg around mine, trapping me. With the extra
purchase, he thrust, pressing upward, hitting the top of my womb.

“I
never thought I’d enjoy vanilla,” he mumbled into my hair.

I
froze. What did he mean? He’d never shared intimacy before? The gentleness of
sex compared to angry rutting?

His
breathing caught, not noticing I’d withdrawn, trying to analyse what he meant. His
fingers smeared my clit with wetness, rubbing erotically, giving me no choice
but to pay attention.

“Come
for me,
esclave.
” His order was breathless; his leg wrapped around mine,
tensed.

He
thrust harder, tainted with some of the violence I was used to from Q. Pinching
my clit, he forced me to come. My body clenched and quivered, welcoming Q’s
orgasm as he filled me with his seed. His soft moan sent my heart fluttering,
and I smiled.

*
* * * *

We
must have drifted again. I woke to a knock.

Q
flinched, unwrapping himself from around me. Our skin popped slightly as
suction tried to keep us together. Q grumbled, holding his head. “
Merde,
how much did I drink last night?”

I
laughed softly. “Enough to ramble about birds and girls and…” My voice drifted.
Sadness replaced my post conjugal glow. “I’m number fifty-eight.”

Air
chilled as Q froze. “What?” Eyes flared with panic. “I said that?” He scooted
upright, wincing.

I
couldn’t tear my eyes away from his trim, toned body. His heavy cock still
glistened from being inside me. The sparrow tattoo filled me with sorrow for
some inexplicable reason.

“Can
you tell me now? What do the birds have to do with the fifty-seven slaves
you’ve had before me?”

Q
swiped a hand over his face, pacing away. Gathering his trousers, he refused to
look at me. Pulling them on, he didn’t bother with underwear. I hadn’t seen his
tattoo from behind, but the cloud looked ominous and evil. A nightmare of thorns
and branches trying to devour innocent little birds.

My
gaze fell, unable to look any longer. I gasped. Everywhere, my skin was purple
with faint bruises and pink with abrasions from the flogger. I twisted, hissing
between my teeth to look at my back. Lashes crossed in a lattice pattern,
flaming with soreness. He hadn’t broken the skin, but damn, it hurt.  

Slinging
his buttonless shirt on, Q spun around. He passed me a fur blanket from the
bed. “You’ll have to wear this to your room, seeing as I burned your clothes.”

I
glared. “Are you deliberately ignoring my question?”

He
shut down. Eyes hazy with a hangover, jaw clenched. I couldn't understand his
aloofness. His coldness.

The
knock came again, interrupting the building tension.

Q
sighed, withdrawing even further. “I have to go.”

I
stood proudly, not covering myself in the blanket. I wanted him to see what he
did to me. How I wore the marks with passion. They showed everything I’d
become. I was no longer virgin snow. I was claimed. Used. “You’re going to
leave in the middle of a discussion?”

His
eyes fell to my ruined body, heat and distress flickering over his face. “Don’t
confuse what happened last night. It was fucking between a drunk master and his
slave. You gave me what I wanted. But it’s morning, and other things demand my
attention.”

He
couldn’t have hurt me more if he tried. My eyes narrowed, stinging with tears.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

He
shrugged. “Believe what you want to believe,
esclave.
I’m leaving.”

My
heart shut down.
Esclave
. Not Tess. He disowned me so simply.

Before
I could ask what the hell was going on, he unlocked the door and disappeared.

*
* * * *

I
took the walk of shame down the circular stairs and into my bedroom. I showered
and rubbed arnica into my bruises, before slipping on a beautiful grey dress I
found hanging in the wardrobe.

I
no longer had aversions to Q dressing me. After what he did last night, a
simple wardrobe preference seemed trivial. I let him flay me open in every
sense, but instead of feeling treasured and complete, I felt empty and
regretful. He did things I never thought I could agree to, yet I never used the
safe word. Because I felt
safe
with him.

But
that was another lie. He ruined that safety when he left with no explanation. My
jaw ached from clenching so hard. Q had no right to shut down and leave.
He
has every right. He’s your master.

He’s
more than that—even if he denies it until he passes out.

I
brushed my hair with fierce strokes. Maybe I deluded myself into believing he
felt more than he did. He admitted to having fifty-seven women before…what did little
ole me matter?

His
drunk rambling echoed in my mind.
Winter. Birds. Thawing
.

I
dropped the brush.

Holy
fuck. Could it be true? Q bought women, not to abuse them, but to
save
them?  

My
mind couldn’t comprehend it. Not after the music of demons inside, not after
everything he did to me. But my heart fluttered with hope.

Needing
to learn the truth, I bolted from the room.

I
found Suzette in the kitchen slicing carrots; she barely acknowledged me. Dark
clouds rolled over the spring sunshine, casting shadows.

Mrs.
Sucre gave me a half-hearted smile before disappearing into the pantry. My skin
pricked with unwelcome. I was a traitor, an outcast.

I
moved forward, pressing against the countertop, not entering the massive
kitchen. I wasn’t brave enough to encroach on Suzette’s domain while she glared
machetes at me.

Unbearable
silence thickened; the house had a weird vibe. Tense, static, as if a storm
brewed within.

Whiplashes
twinged as I hunched. I had no right to feel ignored. What happened with the
police was my fault.

“Suzette…
what happened last night? Why didn’t the police arrest Q?” I started with an easy
question. I needed to break the ice before confirming my suspicions. It made sense
though—Suzette told me all along Q rescued her, but I’d been too pig-headed to
listen.

She
pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. “What do you think happened? The police came
and accused Q of kidnapping you.”

“But
they left. They must’ve found Q innocent, if they didn’t press charges.”

Suzette
scoffed. “So much you don’t know,
esclave
. Things you’ve lost the right
to learn.”