Twisted Together - Winters Pepper - Страница 68
- Предыдущая
- 68/124
- Следующая
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 a 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.”
“Yes. I remember,” she panted. Her chest pinked, casting her white skin with the tempting shade. Her gaze shot to mine, bright and feverish. Was it the fear of where I would fuck her tonight or the martinis?
I hoped it was the fear.
“Are you drunk, esclave?”
She shook her head, hypnotising me with her blonde tresses rippling over her shoulders. “No. I was tipsy before, but now…now I’m drunk on other things.”
My cock thickened. Snipping the metal blades, I pressed the cool bite against Tess’s neck where the dress tied at the back. Her breathing quickened. She swayed, but made no move to stop me.
Holding eye contact, I cut the halter. I shuddered with longing as the material freed, drooping down her front. The swell of her breasts made my mouth water. I wanted to bite her. I wanted to see my teeth marks in her pale tender flesh.
“Dare, Tess.”
She wobbled on her feet as I trailed the tips of the scissors over the tops of her breasts, dipping possessively into her cleavage. She moaned, flinching from the prick of the blade.
“You dare me to let you cut off my clothes?” She shrugged, shivering as I did another cut. “You clearly don’t need my permission, maitre.”
I smiled, deliberately dragging the sharp tips up from her cleavage, transfixed by the red welt I left behind—I didn’t break the skin, but Tess was so sensitive, flushed with blood. “That’s not the dare,” I murmured.
Her gaze swirled with confusion. “What is then?”
“How many times you’ll let me cut you.” A full body shiver rippled through my muscles at the sick sentence. I should be repulsed, embarrassed by my need to mark her—especially because she let me brand her—but I wasn’t. I’d told her the ‘Q’ sigil stopped those urges.
I lied.
I still needed the power over her mortal body. I needed to see her bleed for me, cry for me.
Her eyelashes flared wide as her pupils dilated—half with panic, half with lust. “How many times?” Rocking back, trying to avoid the ever steady snip down the centre of her dress, she hesitated. “Cut my dress as much as you want—leave me skin alone.”
I shook my head. “That’s not the dare.” Slicing again, the tightness of the bodice started to loosen, revealing the purple lace cupping Tess’s beautiful fucking breasts.
Her hands opened and closed, trying unsuccessfully to hide her nerves. “You’re not playing the game correctly.”
I snipped hard, deliberately catching the soft sensitive skin just below her bra line. “Oh no…how terrible of me.”
Snip.
It was my way of cutting into her shell, carving an entry into her heart. I pushed the sharp tip into her bra, circling her nipple.
- Предыдущая
- 68/124
- Следующая
