Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark, #2)

by Pepper Winters

With her under me, my world righted again.

She moaned, pressing hard against me, dragging more from me until I couldn’t tell where her lips began and mine ended. My fingers tightened on their own accord, searching for the sweet surrender, the ultimate control. I kissed her while choking her until her legs wobbled, and I caught her as she buckled completely. The knowledge she let me bring her to the point of such weakness made my heart swell until it no longer fit in my ribcage. I didn’t think I’d find anything as satisfying as causing pain, but the complete submission and trust was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Q growled, pressing harder until his knuckles connected against my core. “Fuck, you’re wet. Every time, esclave. Every time, you’re ready for me.” His voice held awed pleasure.

If he kept making sounds like that I’d come from the power of his voice alone.

Q was in a different dimension, petting my head, taking my mouth with his eyes tightly closed. “Your mouth is fucking heaven,” he grunted.

Wave after wave I swallowed, and still he kept coming. I choked and he pulled out, fisting himself. With angry strokes, he milked the last of his orgasm, panting as he kept spurting, dousing me in white sticky droplets all over my breasts. The picture of Q towering over me, his face furious and red while eyes blazed with his release, was a sight to behold. I wanted to capture the moment, sear it on my brain, remember the ink of his tattoo, the musky taste of him in my mouth, and the knowledge I drove him to break.

“I’ll never get used to you moving so silently. You’re like a freaking ghost.” I gave a rueful smile. “My silence comes in handy when I want to be unheard.” I stepped toward her, already sporting a rock-hard erection. “I like watching you while you think you’re alone.”

No other man had a voice like Q. Dark, dangerous, laced with a melodic French accent. Being reprimanded by him was pure audio perfection.

“You need this?” His eyes glinted as he rolled his hips against my pinned legs.

Breathing ragged, he ordered, “Get on all fours.” When I didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed my hips and flipped me over, hoisting my ass up until I rested on my hands and knees. The second I was steady, urgent fingers pushed my tight skirt up and up, forcing it higher until the cute slit on the side split with a loud crack. “I want to rip this into shreds, but I can’t have you showing the world what’s mine.” Q gave a final push and the skirt gathered on my hips. The moment my ass was exposed, he spanked me hard, sending jolts of pain radiating through my body, but I existed on a painful plateau already, and his palm print bloomed into deliciousness. My eyes glossed even as I pushed backward, imploring Q to strike again. Vibrating with lust, he leaned closer and licked my smarting ass cheek, soothing away the sweet pain. With a growl, he plucked the small G-string with his fingertips and pulled. The material tightened around my pussy, pinching my clit, making me burn. Then with a jerk of his head, Q sliced through the lace with his teeth and the G-string existed no more. He brought the fabric to his nose and inhaled deep. “Fuck me, you smell incroyable.” With a dark glint in his eye, he balled the scrap of lingerie and shoved it in his pocket. He caught me watching over my shoulder and said, “Now I’ll always have you close, esclave.”

He let me go with one arm and fumbled behind him. A moment later a flash of turquoise caught my eye as he captured my wrists, positioning them behind me. My centre of gravity shifted as Q bound my wrists with his tie. With him deep inside and my hands restrained behind my back, I toppled forward. But Q caught me, helping steady me while lowering me to the floor. “Put your cheek on the carpet.” Letting me angle my head, Q waited before releasing me. Blood rushed to my temples, and my tender neck screamed, but I didn’t make a peep. My heart rate ratcheted as the helicopter swooped to the right. How close were we to Paris? “Fuck, you look amazing like this. Tied up, impaled, completely at my mercy.” He trailed a fingertip along the crack of my ass, working down until he touched where we joined. Warm wetness smeared both of us. He stole some of it to swirl around my clit. My legs flinched, trying to close against the sudden intensity. “Q!” “I’m going to fuck you now, Tess. Do not come until I tell you to.”

“Tonight, I’m going to tie you upside down and force you to drink my come, esclave. Then I’m going to eat you until you forget your own name.” Shit, Q’s voice was an aphrodisiac. One more sentence and I’d explode. “I’m going to do so many things to you. So many fucking sinful thi—” Q groaned, stopping mid-word as he thrust deep and hard. He shattered the gentle rock, increasing the tempo until his balls slapped against my clit. I squeezed my eyes against the brain-warping need to come. As Q lost himself in me, I lost myself to him. The sound of the helicopter faded away, and the most important thing in the world was the connection between us. The intrinsic link of male and female. Q pinched my clit as he thrust violently, sending us forward a few centimetres. His hip bones bruised my ass as he turned savage. Gone were the long and measured thrusts. These were short and sharp and entirely explosive. “Fuck, esclave. Fuck, yes.” He let go of my bound wrists and spanked me once—hard and biting as he rippled inside; jets of hot come set off my own reaction, and I combusted. The orgasm thundered into being but then teetered on edge, almost as if it expected to be denied again. The pain of being held in limbo made me cry out. I writhed and bucked against Q’s relentless pace. “You have my permission. Come. Squeeze around my cock.” Q thrust harder, stroking my clit until I had no choice but to fall.

He pulled out and gently undid the tie from around my wrists. My body refused to move from the face-plant-ass-up position, and I moaned in pleasure as he wiped his come from between my legs with his expensive silk tie. What just happened to me? Once he finished, he stood and gathered me from the ground. Not meeting my eyes, he quickly secured his trousers and stuffed his tie into the same pocket that held my knickers. His body was supple, sated, but his eyes were tight. I reached to pull my skirt down, but he stopped me with his large hands. “Let me.”

With aching tenderness, he smoothed down my skirt, frowning at the tear in the fabric he’d caused. We breathed each other as he carefully fastened the delicate buttons on my blouse. His hands were gentle and reverent as he repaired the damage, his knuckles brushing the sensitive flesh of my breasts. His lips stayed tight in concentration, and I fell a little more. Fell further into lunacy for this man who made me live. When the last button was done he paused, not moving away. “Tess...” I shook my head. Now was not the time to acknowledge what happened between us. I wanted to savour it. Protect it. He nodded, eyes troubled. He guided me into a chair and did up my seat belt. Leaning over me, he gave me the sweetest smile, whispering, “I think we just joined the mile high club.” I laughed softly as he sat in his own chair and glanced out the window. He looked pensive, completely wrapped up in his thoughts. The air between us no longer seethed with sexual tension, it hummed with emotional connection.

My heart thudded hard, spreading foreign warmth through my body. The longer I stared, the more I wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe, but in the same thought, I wanted to kill and ruin anyone who came near her. I wanted to highlight her bruises, mark her skin, so everyone knew she belonged to me. I wanted to brand her, to scar her, to wear her blood as a blatant warning to any man who ever looked in her direction.

would never be satisfied around this woman. All I wanted to do was push her against the wall and wrap her legs around me. I wanted to be buried so fucking deep inside her, she would never contemplate asking me why her ever again.

Slowly, some of the tension uncoiled from my limbs, leaving me shaky. Would I always suffer repercussions of what happened? I thought I was stronger than that. All along I thought I wasn’t broken, but maybe they fractured me just enough to stop me from healing completely. I felt like a coward. I let my instincts override rational thinking, making me fear an illusion. Q took a deep breath, ridding himself of the angst visible in his shoulders. He smiled softly as his pale eyes warmed. “I have a meeting I’m late for. I want you to stay here and relax. Watch a movie, feed the birds, go for a bath. Do whatever you want.” He captured my hand, tugging me closer. “The moment I’m done, I’ll come back, and we’ll go for a nice dinner, or order up, I don’t care. Tomorrow is soon enough to share you.” I smiled, looping my arms around his powerful back, letting him make me forget that I made a fool of myself. “You don’t want to share me?” I murmured against his chest. A rush of gratitude filled me once again for being sold to such a strange, but moral man. My fate could’ve been so, so much worse. I was eternally lucky. He chuckled; the sound resonated in my ear, making my world right again. “No. I wished I never said you’d work for me. I’d rather keep you chained and subservient to me at home.”

My heart seized, and the room warped, squeezing in on me, crushing me. Something smashed free inside, tearing at every bar, every lock I’d ever created. The last few days I’d tried desperately hard to tame myself. Brainwash myself into being a better man for Tess, but with those three words, I shrugged off the falseness that I could never be. I growled and welcomed the feralness, the raging psychotic temper. The beast sprung free, and I breathed hard. This was who I was. A man who craved blood. A man who laughed when breaking a bone, and didn’t flinch when shooting a bullet

The evidence of what happened to Tess enraged the beast, clawing at my mind. I forgot everything but the need to plunge my hands deep into the kidnappers’ chests and rip out their fucking hearts. I want blood. I want corpses. I want to dance on unmarked graves for this. I wouldn’t rest until every single person involved died a slow and bone-shrivelling death. My hand closed tight around the object of my rage, and I made an oath. I would find Tess, I would save her, and I would kill every last son of a bitch who took her. The gentle clink of breaking glass sounded over my harsh breathing. The broken syringe sliced my palm, and one lonely drop of blood landed into a puddle of water. The same syringe that drugged Tess and stole her away from me.

The animal inside hadn’t calmed down. It wanted to gallop across the earth, sniffing, tracking, hunting the fucking bastards who’d taken Tess. I wanted to pull out their guts with my claws and howl to the goddamn moon when I had their blood on my hands.

Moscow was cold, but not wintery. No snow graced the cityscape, no ice layered the roads. But damn, the wind bit through my suit like daggers. The dark evening was broken by spotlights on the airport and a huge silver moon. I’d been to Russia more times than I could count, but I never lingered. Something about this country didn’t sit well with me. And it wasn’t the prettiness or the quaintness that tourists were allowed to see. No. I didn’t like Russia because the dark underbelly indulged in far too many sins—sins I’d committed and wanted to commit over and over.

I took the handle, running a thumb over the sharp blade. A strange haze came over me, removing me from the van, hurtling me into darkness. Franco knew my aversion to carrying a knife into a tense altercation. Guns kept me human—impersonal, remote from taking a life. But a knife? A knife spoke to the beast. It made my mouth water at the thought of slipping the blade between an enemy’s ribcage and piercing their heart. To be so up close and personal, to feel their last breath, knowing I stole it from them. It made me fucking hard and twisted my brain into something monstrous. The temptation was exquisite, filling my mind with ruthless power. My hands shook with the need to gut Gerald the Wolverine.

“You know what I want.” My voice didn’t resemble a man anymore. I might as well pretend I never was one. I was nothing more than a creature with the urge to bathe in his enemy’s blood. I’d never felt such baser needs or the compulsion to stab and mutilate so keenly.

Some moments I couldn’t breathe with the thought of what was happening to Tess. I wanted to suffocate all thoughts of her from my head until I no longer had to endure such agony. But on the heels of such self-pity and loneliness, came furious anger. Livid hot temper that she left me. I hated that she made me care. I cursed her for the way she turned me into this tangled, twisted creature and then disappeared. Six days passed. Then a week and a half. Twenty-four hour blocks all stacked on top of one another creating an unmovable mountain, barricading me from ever finding the one person I ever cared for. Time obstructed me from finding my fucking other half. I would live alone. I would die alone. I would exist in the netherworld all fucking alone because Tess had been stolen and I was too worthless to save her.

He looked away before roaring, “I had no fucking life before you. You are my life. Without you, I might as well take a shotgun to my head and join you in the dirt because, Tess, if you leave me—if you’re so fucking weak not to fight, then that is what will happen to me. You’ll crucify me.”

Tess leaned forward, kissing me ever so sweetly. “I love you, Quincy.” My back tensed. Normally, I hated my full name. It was my father’s. A name I wanted to forget forever, but in that moment, I loved it. I loved that Tess loved me. I loved that Tess accepted me. I loved her with everything I was. “Je t'aime,” I whispered, kissing her back.