“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.