Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark) (11 page)

The pinpricks of his teeth disappeared—soothed by a worshiping lick. “I am. Terribly.”

I moaned as his large hand teased up my side, his thumb stroking me in ever widening circles.

“You’re not. You’re the strongest, bravest—” My brain stopped working as his thumb found my nipple, whispering around it in perfect possession.

Q’s breathing increased until hot puffs tickled my neck with temptation. The swirling of his touch scrambled my coherency and I let myself drift—let myself come undone by his control.

“Pour la première fois de ma vie je suis vulnérable, parce que je suis tombée amoureuse.”
For the first time in my life I'm vulnerable, all because I fell in love.

Mouth. Hands. Tongue.

Sounds ceased to exist. The hum of the tyres on the road faded; the stop and sway of the vehicle didn’t enter our realm of superb synchronicity. Every second brought a heavy blanket around us, drawing tight, shutting out the world.

“They took you. Those motherfuckers took what I treasured the most.” His lips pressed against my throat, then collarbone, then shoulder. “They tore my heart out.
You
tore my heart out by making me care so much.” His voice wavered with a mixture of strength and weakness.

My heart broke for him. I’d lived my own hell but Q had his own nightmares to bear. “Tell me…talk to me.”

Touch. Breath. Lick.

Q suddenly grabbed my knee, twisting me to straddle him. With my legs spread over his lap, he thrust upward, grinding his erection against the tight web of my jeans. The dark look in his eyes was possessed, consumed with the desire to be inside me—to join us while we were linked by this brittle connection.

“I’m not ready,” he growled. “Not ready.” His face contorted with barely restrained violence; his cock twitched, craving me just as I craved him.

He’d spoken the truth. The unwilling truth.
Will we ever be ready to rip ourselves open and bring our devils to light?

Lips. Heat. Mouth.

I stiffened, trying to keep my thoughts from knotting into an incomprehensible ball. “Will you ever be?”

I moaned loudly as his hand fisted my hair, holding my head tight and unmovable. His beautiful features flashed with rage so bright and vibrant, I sucked in a breath of pure terror.

Q glared, wrenching all my fear and ghosts to the surface. “I’ll be ready when you are,
esclave.
A life for a life. A tale for a tale.”

I didn’t have time to breathe before his lips descended on mine and my brain died an ambrosial death. His taste shot right through my heart, body, and soul, entering every molecule. He touched the nucleus of who I was, smashing through the chains, bulldozing through the wreckage of my tower, and picking me up in his ever strong arms.

I found one piece of myself in that shattered wasteland of my psyche: I remembered the luscious taste of violence.

Pulling. Sucking. Licking.

Every slippery swirl of his tongue resonated and throbbed in my pussy.

Q groaned as I went from submissive and obeying to needing and demanding. My arms wrapped around his head, gluing his mouth to mine, making sure he would never get free. My core melted, sending pinwheels and sparklers igniting in my blood.

I bruised us. I tasted the almost foreign flavour of metallic from my teeth slicing my bottom lip. I kissed him harder than I’d ever kissed before.

Our breathing tangled, our hands became separate entities as we groped and stroked and pinched.

I’m ready
, I wanted to say.
I’m ready to share my tale just so I can learn yours. I want to know you. Every part of you. I want to own you.

Q forced my mouth wider, his tongue almost choking me he kissed so deep. I duelled him, waging a battle, trying to win the war on who would break and speak the loathsome truth first.

My jaw ached, my nipples screamed to have his mouth sucking. My pussy twinged and throbbed for him to fill—to turn me from empty to full.

I was ready. I was strong. I wanted to talk.

The indecision and unknowing had to stop. We’d cinched our lives together—it was time we started trusting and pulled the ends of our connection tight, stitching ourselves together forever.

 I panted as Q broke the kiss. Crashing back to earth, I noticed how wild and enthralled we’d been—how transcended from mortal bodies the kiss had taken us. Q sucked up all the energy in the car, consuming me. All I could see was him. Not the wondrous view, or the quaint buildings streaming past the window. Just him. Always
him.

My jeans were unbuttoned, Q’s hand half in my knickers, trying to touch me. My own hand cupped his cock through his trousers; my fingers white from squeezing him so hard. Q’s lips were red and wet while his hair stuck up in all directions.

He’d never looked so sexy or tempting.

Never breaking eye contact, Q reached behind me to the intercom button. With a smile dancing on his lips, he growled, “Take us to the closest hotel, Franco. I need to do something rather urgently.”

I was hot then cold.

Excited then afraid.

Turned on then repulsed.

My heart went from thrumming with life to a lump of unmovable muscle.

The thrill of wanting, craving,
panting
for Q to deliver what he’d started in the limo wouldn’t stay constant. Confusion doused me, hesitation chilled me.

Franco pulled the car to a halt outside some huge fancy hotel. All whitewashed and pristine, it glittered with mocking purity. I instantly hated it. I felt too dirty, too messed up to enter such an immaculate establishment. I missed
Volière
. It was chaotic and unkempt and forgiving. The polar opposite of this place.

Q hastily smoothed his trousers, running a hand through his hair to hide the obviousness of what we’d been doing.

We were here. We were about to go somewhere just the two of us. Q would take me in his way. He would hurt me.

I bit my lip, looking out the window. I couldn’t let him see my desire swiftly becoming fear.

“Do you know why you’re tied up?”
Leather Jacket’s voice hissed in my ear.
“It’s so we can do what you did to those girls but ten times worse.”

Oxygen. I suddenly couldn’t get enough.

Stop. This is Q. The man you would die for. Does it matter the thought of a belt or whip terrifies you? You’re doing this for him—not you.

The pep-talk granted me enough sanity and peace to suck in a much needed breath.

Franco shut off the engine, then came to open my door. Sunshine bounced inside, taking with it the remaining dark awareness ebbing between Q and me.

I looked at Q briefly, suffering a full body jolt. His eyes were hooded, turbulent; his chest rising and falling with power. His entire soul reached across the car to touch me, warn me—threaten with just how much he needed me alone.

Franco took my hand, helping me from the car. Q’s eyes dropped to where Franco held me; his jaw clenched. He didn’t like anyone touching me—least of all strangers—but he smothered his temper, allowing Franco some leniency.

“Ready to go?” Franco asked, tugging my fingers. Breaking eye contact with Q, I allowed Franco to guide me from the vehicle. His large hand was warm and dry, effortlessly hoisting me upward.

“Thank you,” I said, letting him go the moment I stood.

Franco stared, his bright green eyes probing mine. His lips parted as a thought flashed across his face. Leaning in, he said quickly, “I’ve never spoken about what Q did to find you, but you’re stupid to let the fear keep you hostage. If you saw what he’s capable of….You wouldn’t be fearing anyone but the monster in your bed.”

Q climbed out, slamming the door behind him. He came forward, glowering at Franco.

“As-tu fini?”
Are you quite done? Q’s anger lashed us, snarling the tropical air into a turbulent eddy. “Can I have her back now? Or are you planning on taking her out to dinner?”

“Q…he was only being—”

“I don’t fucking care what he was being.”

Franco shrugged. “She’s my boss too, you know. Have to keep the employers happy.” Two very strong and opinionated male egos clashed. Lowering his head, Franco glared under his brow. “Keep your anger for those who deserve it, Mercer.”

Franco gave me a smile. “Like I said, you’re safe with him and I’m always there as back-up.”

Q coughed as if he couldn’t believe Franco’s nerve.

My emotions toward Q’s head of security were mixed. At the beginning I’d hated him, then I grew to care for him, seeing him as a loyal employee, but now…now I sensed he’d been initiated into Q’s world a bit too well. He seemed dangerous—wearing the same edginess and unpredictability that Q did. Whatever happened in their hunt to find me, Franco had adopted the darkness.

I doubted Suzette would be pleased. I always had a suspicion she had a little crush on Franco. I knew Suzette was madly in love with my husband to be, but it wasn’t sexual love, more like a saviour complex, kind of love.

“That’s comforting to know. Thank you.” I pressed against Q, trying to unwind the tightness in his body.

I wanted to ask what Q had done in Brazil, but a grisly still-warm heart leapt into my mind and suddenly I didn’t want to know—I had enough filth inside my brain.

Q bared his teeth. “Yes, very comforting. Now fuck off and flirt with someone else’s woman. I won’t need you for the rest of the night.”

Franco splayed his hands, brushing away the angst between them. “Book me a room, and I’ll stay out of your way. You know my number if something happens.” Giving me a small salute, he grinned. “Enjoy your evening. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about whom to fear.”

“Franco!
As-tu perdu la tête, putain?
” Have you lost your fucking mind? Q was absolutely livid. His eyes narrowed to slits, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.

I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye as Q grabbed my elbow, charging me toward the entrance. I looked over my shoulder, relieved to see Franco laughing, fully enjoying getting a rise out of Q. At least he hadn’t quit or aimed a gun at Q’s back.

“Q, it’s okay. He was only trying to—”

“I know what he was trying to do, and it damn well worked. Fucking idiot.” He nodded tersely at a man in a green suit who opened the large glass doors for us. “I have no right to be pissed off, yet I can’t stop it. Guess I’ll have to apologise.”

I shivered as we walked from island heat into freezing air-conditioning of a five star glitzy hotel. I wanted to say something—anything to have the Q who’d been so gentle and forthcoming come back.

There were many forms of pain, and right now my heart was suffering.

“Pain is your only option,
puta
. Hit her.”

I closed my eyes for a second, slapping the voices away.

Q stalked through the hotel lobby, dragging me in his terrible wake. Needing to find normal again, I asked, “Do you own this hotel, too?” I blinked, focusing on the imposing pillars, the ginormous potted plants, and grand piano with expensive looking cocktail bar to the right. The lobby spoke of island tranquillity and exoticness.

All this—this wealth—came with the package of being with Q. I still struggled to get used to it.

Q slammed to a halt, yanking me against him.

Instantly my heart clawed up my throat. The burning, searing awareness of his erection dug against my belly. His eyes looked too ferocious to be gentle.

He’s going to hit you. The minute you’re behind closed doors he’ll strike.

I wanted so much for the rush of wetness between my legs. The intoxication of lust in my blood.

“You wouldn’t like that would you,
esclave
? Yet another property; yet another possession.” He shook his head
. “Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu détestes autant l’argent.”
I don’t understand why you hate money so much.

My heart pumped harder as a few guests glanced over, their faces freezing in judgement. To anyone who didn’t know us, the way Q held me would look like a bad argument or worse, domestic violence.

“Q, don’t be so rough. You’ll have security asking questions.”

He growled, “I’d like to see them probe into affairs that aren’t any of their goddamn business.”

I couldn’t stop the knotting of my stomach or the slight queasiness of Q’s temper. Something else must’ve upset him. Franco couldn’t have riled him up this much. Could he?

Wishing I could force him to look
at
me instead of
through
me, I whispered, “Is everything alright?”

“Don’t speak to me,” Q muttered. His tone tightly controlled and ice cold.

I’ve done something wrong.

I was sure of it.

He’s guessed.

No, that couldn’t be possible
. Please, don’t let that be possible
. Only moments ago he’d been sweet and kind and very much together. Would I always suffer whiplash where his mercurial emotions were concerned?

Looking around at the milling guests, I hissed, “Stop making a spectacle, Q. People are looking.”

“They can look all they want. And to answer your question, no, I don’t own this hotel. If I did, I would’ve kicked everyone out by now so I could teach you a lesson right here.”