Je Suis a Toi (Monsters in the Dark Book 4) (4 page)

Not because he wanted me to. But because
I
wanted to.

My breathing quickened as he bound my wrists with something coarse and thick, yanking my arms upward and fastening them on the hook above my head.

My weight didn’t transfer to my wrists, but my knees turned to jelly.

I never knew how far he’d go. When he lost himself to the dangerous haze, he forgot about things like clothes and consequences. He would sooner slice off my outfit to get me naked than worry about what to dress me in after he’d had his fill.

However, he didn’t find a knife and start hacking. He merely strolled around me with a sharp smile on his lips and threatening promises in his gaze.

“You think I’m keeping something from you, Tess?”

What? He wanted to talk?
Now?
I wasn’t prepared for that torment. My body was liquid. My heart a blazing inferno. All I wanted was physical demands and sky-cresting, pain-inducing pleasure.

I blinked. “Yes?”

My confirmation was a question.

He chuckled dark and low. “Suddenly, you’re not so sure?” Moving behind me again, he scooped up my hair, braiding it loosely so it wouldn’t get in his way.

Way of what?

What is he going to do?

I wished I could predict him. But after three years of marriage and months of submitting to his every command, I still had no idea what he’d make me do. Sex with Q was never boring. It made my mind work trying to guess what implement he’d use next.

I wasn’t disappointed.

Removing my scarf from around my neck, he remained behind me, bunching up my grey dress and tying the teal scarf around my waist so the material didn’t fall back down.

Winter chill licked around my legs.

I wore a garter belt and G-string, holding up black satin tights.

The tops of my thighs were exposed and the low heels I wore suddenly weren’t sexy enough for the saucy lingerie I revealed.

Q came to my front, biting his knuckles as a fireball of lust painted his face. “Fuck, I’ll never get over how much I need you. How much your body calls to mine. How much your mind challenges me. How much your fight begs me to snuff it out.” His eyes darkened from green to demanding grey. “Even now that doesn’t scare you, does it, sweet Tess? Knowing that the entire time I’m fucking you—the entire time I’m cock deep in your pussy, and my hand is around your throat, and my teeth are in your flesh—I’m battling the urge to strangle you and make you bleed.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I was nothing but memories and wetness, coming unhinged by his dirty, damning words. I didn’t comprehend him in English. I heard him in my soul.

Wrapping his hand around my neck, he squeezed. “And the only thing that stops me from going that final distance—that awful, sinful distance—is how much I fucking love you. How much I worship the ground you walk on. How much I would die knowing that if I ever hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live another day.
Je me tuerais si jamais j’allais trop loin
.” I would kill myself for ever going too far.

His mouth smashed against mine. Our kiss defied logic and sensibility. He pushed; I yielded. He bit; I sucked. He gasped; I breathed.

My legs well and truly gave up standing. I fell in my bindings, letting him jerk my dangling body into his, allowing him to hoist my legs around his hips and scream into his mouth as he fumbled with his belt and trousers and shoved aside my knickers.

The only warning I had that he planned to take me so fast, so quick, so uncharacteristically raw was the briefest gush of icy air on my exposed pussy before his hand brushed my clit and the smooth crown of his cock impaled me.

I groaned and came apart as he tore right through me like a sword. He didn’t stop to make sure I was okay. He didn’t wait for me to adjust to his size or depth of penetration.

He merely clamped my hips and forced me to accept him.

He did what I needed him to.

I didn’t need soft words and kind concern. I didn’t need sweet sincerity.

I needed a man. A monster. A master to fuck me. I needed him to take away my choice because then I could give in. I could stop thinking. I could be nothing more than Tess with her Q and scream and cry and beg and pant and thrust and
thrust
on the majestic cock of my saviour and husband.

“Fuck, Tess.” Q’s fingers bruised my hips as he jerked me up and down on his length.

My wrists burned from the rope. Circulation ceased in my fingertips. My eyes were hazy and struggled to focus, but my body…it was alive. It was burning and crashing and so damn awake, I felt every twitch of his cock inside me, every restraint he held, and every growl he swallowed.

“You love it like this,
esclave
. You love me filling your naughty cunt. You love me taking you when you don’t know if you want me. You love being denied the right to tell me how you want it.” He thrust harder, making the barn echo with the slams of our naked hips. “
N’est-ce pas?”
Don't you?

I nodded. Or at least, I thought I nodded.

I bit my lip, drawing blood as insane overwhelming sensation coursed through me.

I wanted to be naked. I wanted his teeth, his fingernails, his whip and punishment.

But all I had of him was his cock. He stood rutting into me, the perfect businessman. His hair slicked back, his shirt crisp, his woollen coat sublime.

To an outsider, he looked so collected and calm. So
normal.

But they didn’t see what I did.

They didn’t have access to his eyes. His soul.

Bouncing in his hold, I glared into the jadey depths. The cage inside him was open; his beast unchained. If we were at home, we wouldn’t leave our bedroom for hours while he fucked me and hurt me and tried to hurt himself in return.

He’d adore me, and we’d come. By God, we’d come.

But then he’d care for me, soothe me, bathe me, and cuddle me like any gentle lover. He’d give me the best safety he could offer all while he beat himself up for ever going too far. He’d love the bruises he inflicted while wanted to bleed himself dry for causing them.

It was good that here we had to be fast.

There was no time for games. Only the barest form of lovemaking.

“God, Q…don’t stop.”

“Tu crois que je pourrais m’arrêter?”
You think I could stop? He yanked me forward, impaling even more length and heat into me. “You think I could fucking stop with my cock inside you and your taste on my lips.” His face shredded into a fierce snarl. “Fuck, Tess. I can’t ever stop. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” He thrust into me harder and more brutal than the last. “I don’t want to. I won’t ever want to. Yet I should. What if I’m causing it? What if I’m the problem?”

His question filtered through the dark subspace in my mind.

What problem?

I clutched for understanding, but an orgasm spindled, demanding precedent.

I wanted to know what he meant. I needed to know what demons hounded him.

But I was in the darkness with him, and I needed more. I needed that final flare of blackness to orgasm. Only then could we talk without the angry tempest billowing between us.

Q understood.

His seductive mouth spewed more torture. “You’re such a dirty, filthy girl. You tricked me into the countryside so you could, what? Fuck me in a stranger’s barn?”

My eyes snapped closed as I let him manipulate and guide me; let him corrupt and beguile me. He knew words were my undoing. He knew how much I adored him saying such crude and disgusting things because afterward, he’d shower me with proverbs and promises.

“Yes…don’t stop.” My pussy fisted him as his cock grew thicker and harder inside me.

Talking dirty might work for me, but my God, it worked for him, too.

It’d taken a while for him to relax into it. To use verbal as well as physical tools. But he was eloquent at it now. The best I’d ever heard.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. So open and wet and obsessed with how my cock feels. Tell me that you like me fucking you. Tell me that if I cut you down right now, you’d get on your hands and knees and let me fuck you like the beast I am.”

The image flowed through my mind.

Him rutting behind me.

My knees bloody on the messy barn floor.

Yes!

The first wave of an orgasm threatened to wash me away.

Q chuckled, feeling it, understanding without me telling him that was exactly how I wanted to finish.

“Your wish is my command,
esclave
. Just like always.” With a knife—
where the hell did he get the knife?
—he reached up and hacked through the dense rope imprisoning me. The instant it snapped free, I tumbled into his arms. His cock slipped out as he swung me to the floor and shoved my shoulders.

I tripped and soared to my hands and knees.

He was rough, and I fucking loved it.

The moment I was sprawled like a dog in heat, Q slammed to his knees behind me. The clink of his belt sent heat waves and intense desire. Would he spank me or was he too far gone?

His cock speared into me as his hand fisted my hastily plaited hair.

Too far gone.

My lips spread into a victorious smile as my master and keeper drove into me from behind. His clothed chest cloaked my back as his hips jacked faster and faster into mine. “You’re such a filthy girl. Tell me. Do you like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes. Yes.
God
, yes.”

“How much more can you take, Tess? How much harder do I need to fuck my wife?”

The words fuck and wife caused me to convulse.

Q laughed, slapping my ass as his pace turned frenzied. “Not much longer I think, my dear
esclave
.” His rhythmic taking matched mine in every possible way. He was so fast but so fluid. Hitting the top of me every time he filled me. He forced my body high and needy.

“Maître…”
My knees splayed, and my elbows gave up. My cheek smashed against the floor, pinpricked with hay and debris as Q never stopped. Heat exploded as blood smeared down my face. His fingers left bruises on top of bruises as he yanked me back over and over.

I couldn’t hold off.

I came.

I came.

I came
.

And when I thought I’d finished, I came again on the smoke of the first, this one even tighter and dreadfully unforgiving.

Q followed me.

His growling grunt speared my heart as his cum flooded inside. Spurt after spurt, he marked me internally just as he had externally.

As we collapsed together on the floor, him on his back and me on his chest, I struggled to rearrange my heartbeat from manic to calm.

The ooze of his release dribbled down my thigh, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t cold even though plumes of our breath decorated the air. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

I didn’t want to move or speak, but I couldn’t stop one resounding repetitive question from ruining the moment…

What is he keeping from me?

WOULD THE HIGHS and lows ever stop?

I thought I’d outgrown this. I thought the night of our wedding and the day of our vows had cured me of this ridiculous flip-flopping of happiness and hatred.

She made me so fucking happy.

But also made me hate myself.

I couldn’t look at her as we ate chilled caviar and rosemary roasted chicken on a blanket in the farmer’s field. If the farmer returned in time to see the scuffmarks in the dusty, hay-riddled barn, he might have some indication that two people had just fucked in there.

More than fucked.

Fought with their souls and punished with their bodies.

My cock still twitched from residual insanity from my release. Tess always made my orgasm so much stronger. She drew the darkness from me even when I did my best to forbid it.

I wasn’t the master.

She was.

Curse her to hell
.

I’d wanted to be gentle. I’d wanted to make love to her rather than fuck her like an animal. Because I meant what I said. What if the reason for my frustration was because of my own issues? What if I was the one with the problem, and I was taking it out on her?

I swallowed those thoughts before I could rage again.

Swigging a mouthful of tart champagne, I reached across the small distance and caressed her raw, scratched cheek.

We sat bundled in a thick blanket that Mrs. Sucre had stuffed in the hamper, keeping us warm from the winter frost all around us. After we’d finished our episode in the barn, I’d cared for her like I always did.

Taking her so brutally meant I had to put her back together again. I’d used the wet wipes from the car glove box and cleaned the small cut on her cheekbone from the sharp hay stalks. I’d dabbed antiseptic cream on the wound and kissed her over and over again.

She tolerated my ministrations, more for me than for her. She knew my ritual of checking—to see how far I’d gone when I lost control—was entirely for my benefit. She was so strong in that respect. She let me abuse her—
begged
me to abuse her—and then required no aftercare whatsoever.

When she’d first refused to bow at my feet the moment Franco pushed her through my front door, I’d known. Known she wasn’t just my equal but my empress. Someone I would gladly worship because she had more strength and courage in one little finger than I did in my entire fucking body.

My eyes drifted to her tartan-blanketed form. Beneath her dress, I knew her hips were decorated with finger marks and a few strands of blonde littered the barn floor from where I’d jerked too hard.

Apart from her cheek, I hadn’t drawn blood. However, she had. She’d bitten through her bottom lip, making it puffy and red and so fucking kissable I contemplated a second round with her spread-eagled over the bonnet of my car.

Get a fucking grip, Mercer
.

We’d been married for years. Would wanting her never go away? At this rate, I’d end up in an early grave from my heart popping with pleasure while inside her.

Cupping her cheek, I breathed, “Are you okay?”

She leaned into my touch with a gentle smile. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

I shrugged. “I can think of a few things.”

She glanced away. “Well, so can I. But nothing relating to what just happened in the barn.” Tearing off a piece of chicken, she chewed thoughtfully. “You know, this birthday weekend isn’t just for you.”

I dropped my touch, ladling another mother of pearl spoonful of caviar into my mouth. Caviar could never touch metal or silver. If it did, the texture and taste were completely ruined. The high maintenance eating habits of the rich never failed to amuse.

“What does that mean?”

Tess glanced my way; her normally guileless blue eyes shadowed with questions. “I know you’re unhappy, Q.” She waved me away as my temper thickened and I opened my mouth to argue. “Before you say anything, I don’t mean you’re unhappy all the time. But there
is
something you’re keeping from me. I need to know what it is so I can fix it.”

What if you can’t fix it?

What then?

I sighed heavily. “There’s nothing to fix,
esclave
.”

“I say otherwise.” She hung her head, pouring more champagne as an excuse not to look at me. “I need you to tell me soon, Q. Before I go mad with worry.”

Stopping her fumbling, I placed my hand on hers. “I know I haven't been fair, keeping this from you. But I’m almost ready to talk about it. I promise.”

“You are?” Her eyes met mine.

I nodded unwillingly. “Almost.”

“So you’ll tell me before the week is over?”

A week?

That’s all I have?

How could I put into words something I didn’t even understand myself? How could I describe the longing inside me and admit I’d been lying for months, or explain the indescribable desire for something I’d never wanted before?

It was my turn to look away, glaring at the countryside and the glittering yellow sunshine. Snow still lingered in ditches and valleys but overall, winter had been too kind. A few leaves still clung to branches, and the occasional rustle of mice and voles spoke of an existence refusing to die even with temperatures teasing with freezing.

If nothing perished, nothing could be reborn.

The same mistakes and hardships would linger.

“Q…” Tess stole me back to her.

Gritting my teeth, I tore off a piece of fresh baguette. “Fine. You have my word. By the end of the week, I’ll tell you.”

If you don’t figure it out before then.

Tess was the most inquisitive and determined person I knew. She’d probably already guessed what my problem was. She could most likely put it into words far better than I could.

In a way, I wanted her to.

Maybe then, I could understand what the fuck my issue was.