Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(11)

The wetness between my legs increased and my teeth chattered as Q sucked in a breath, dropping one of the items in his hands. It slithered against the carpet, lying like a dormant snake; any moment it would raise its head and strike with deadly fangs.

Q held up his other arm, showing me what he intended to use. My heart rate exploded.

In his palm lay a cat-o’-nine-tails. The intricate whip handle exploded from one thick cylinder into nine pieces of lethal leather. Each strand was woven with tiny silver beads along the length.

Adrenaline washed over me. My skin flushed, and I wiggled in the bindings. It looked painful. It looked cruel. It looked like it would pulverize my thoughts and turn my body into a crisscrossed canvas of agony.

I tried to stay calm, tried to keep my heart from galloping out of control, but shit, I couldn’t. The whip was too dangerous.

My eyes flew to his. “No. I can’t. It’s too much.”

Fear swarmed thick and fast as Q smiled thinly, shaking his head. “If this is what it takes to eliminate that cocksucker from your brain, so be it.” He stepped away a little, letting the whip dangle.

“Q—please. I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never be ready for this, esclave. I know that, and I hate myself for what I’m about to do, but I’m not going to stop.” He hung his head, watching me from shadowed eyes. “So help me, I want to whip you. Cry for me, Tess.”

He struck.

The multiple-beaded whip whistled through the air and licked my naked belly. Each silver bead dug deep into my flesh, singeing me with pain.

I cried out, jolting in the straps with the heat of the first lash.

Q groaned, his entire body vibrating, eyes locked on the blush of red already blooming on my stomach. His lips parted as his nostrils flared, almost as if he could truly taste my pain and fear.

“Don’t hate me for what I need,” he implored, just before he struck again. The bunch of muscles as he swung set his tattoo fluttering with shadows.

The whip kissed me brutally while the little beads bit with tiny fangs. The first tang of tears burned.

Through my glassy eyes, Q danced and quivered; my vision turned wonky from adrenaline. I panicked and hated I couldn’t move. This wasn’t fun or sexy or erotic.

I was a prisoner with a monster who was my master. A man who didn’t trust his own self-control.

A single tear cascaded down my cheek, and Q’s chest rose with intensity. “I want more than one, Tess.” He came forward and kissed below each eye, whispering, “J’aime te marquer.” I love marking you.

I shook my head, past being able to talk. Too f*cked up with too many emotions. Somehow he turned this against me. I wanted this. I knew that, but Q had blocked me out, embraced his wickedness, leaving me behind.

I was a stupid girl for thinking I could take Q on. To try and love this man who had so many issues. What made me strong enough to be what he needed?

Q took a step backward, and I squeezed my eyes. I didn’t want to watch him bristle with lust when he hit me. I didn’t want to witness the way his perfect body flexed as he swung. I didn’t want any part of this.

Waiting in the dark was an eternity of torture, but Q didn’t strike. I waited and waited, but no whip’s kiss or bead’s bite touched me.

I hesitated opening my eyes, then my mouth popped wide as a soul-wrenching moan erupted from my lips.

Q had knelt between my spread and bound legs. His mouth latched onto my swollen *, and he licked as if he’d die if he didn’t drink all of me.

Oh, God.

His teeth found my clit, and he bit gently. No part of my body existed except that tiny, sensitive nub.

Q gripped my ass, pulling my * harder against his mouth. His tongue speared inside me and I screamed. “Q. Fuck. Please. Yes.”

He groaned as my body wept. Moisture trickled down my thigh, mixing with Q’s saliva. Holding me captive with one hand, he pushed three fingers deep inside.

I screamed in bliss as he rocked his hand. His mouth centred on my clit as his fingers drove me into a frenzy.

My knees trembled, and I wished I could fall—fall onto his mouth, impale myself onto his cock. His fingers were heaven but his cock would be delirium.

A sharp band of an orgasm built in my lower spine, radiating through my belly to grip around Q’s fingers.

Instantly, he stopped and stood in one sharp move. I gawked and panted and cursed. My body quaked with the need to come; the need to come apart and surrender.

Q raised his arm, and the whip licked my lower belly. The nine pieces of leather coaxed red to shadow and pain to flourish.

I tried to bend over, to protect my innocent stomach, but the cross held me inert.

Q hit me again, this one higher, just below my breasts. My ribcage bellowed as the tiny beads bruised my flesh.

Again he swung. And again.

The cat-o’-nine-tails rained. It felt like Q delivered a thunderstorm: the thunder of his pleasure, my swirling feelings a blistering squall, and nine sparks of lightning all delivered at once.

I transcended. My body entered a realm of insane sensitivity and I welcomed the whip. The pain morphed into unbearable pleasure until I reverberated with all-encompassing want.

My thoughts swirled with bright lights and my body wailed for release.

By the tenth strike, I arched my back, pushing my breasts out, welcoming the gluttony of punishment.