We devoured each other, separated only by a metre. A stupid, silly little metre that I wanted eradicated.
I took a step toward him.
The motion snapped him back into whatever whirlwind idea he currently chased; he moved away. Holding up a hand, he ordered, "Va dans la douche, esclave." Get in the shower.
I shook my head, heat prickling my skin. My gaze fell to Q's trousers, licking my lips at the bulge of his desire. "Come in with me," I murmured, stepping toward him as he kept inching away.
He couldn't take his eyes off my naked skin. "No. If I do, we'll never get to dinner."
Running my hands up my waist, cupping my breasts, I taunted, "I'm not hungry for food, maître. Who needs dinner when I can suck on you?"
He groaned, his step faltering. His hand abandoned his cock, fumbling with his top button. "Fuck, you don't play fair."
I might not be playing fair, but I was winning.
Taking another step, I basked in how hyperaware my skin was. His intense stare stroked me, making me hum, smoulder. My tongue wanted to lick him, my mouth wanted to suck him, my body wanted to ride him, and my mind wanted to explode into a gazillion pieces of bliss.
Q dragged the zipper down, teasing me with black boxer-briefs, barely concealing his raging erection. My tummy clenched, and my hand fell between my legs. My head was suddenly too heavy as I tantalized myself, panting to taste him.
Q looked up, latching eyes with me. Anger ticked his jaw, or was it tightly restrained need. "Tess?"
"Yes … " I whispered, totally absorbed in fantasies of what I would do the moment Q got naked.
He stormed toward me, grabbed my wrist, and jerked my fingers away from the slickness of my core. His face contorted. "I told you that is mine. Not yours. You think you're winning. But I can deny you-I have enough self-control."
My hand lashed out, gripping him through his open fly. His cock leapt in my palm, intensely hot and eager. "Are you sure about that?"
He grunted, pushing his hips into my hand, before slapping my touch away. Wrapping his fingers around my throat, he murmured, "If you keep up your little game, I'll make you wish you hadn't. Obey me. Get in the fucking shower." His lips slammed against mine in a cruel, brutal kiss. I cried out as bruises became an addiction and pain became an obsession. I needed him. It wasn't fair-he started this by undressing me. He had to finish. I had to come.
Q tore his mouth from mine. "Wash, so I can take you out on a date."
I shivered, fascinated by his perfect lips, craving them between my thighs. I wanted what he'd given me last night. I wanted to be bitten, dined upon-his banquet of choice forever.
Words vexed me-they skipped and darted from my mind as lust clouded-making me mute and needy. "And … and if I don't?" I cupped his balls through his boxers.
Q shuddered, dragging me closer. His proximity sent fireworks detonating in my stomach. "If you don't, I'll fuck you against the window. Everyone on the street will see you writhe for me. Strangers will see you come." Imprisoning my jaw, he growled, "Do you want that? Are you a secret exhibitionist, Tess, because I'd gladly show off what I have in my bed. I'd happily sink deep into your heat and mark you in front of men who will never know the extreme fucking joy of being inside you. I'd love to thrust hard, smashing you against the glass, knowing husbands of other women got hard seeing how incredible you are-how responsive you are-how damn fucking sexy you are."
Oh. My. God.
My heart stopped beating. I lost complete control over my thoughts and senses. The mental images Q painted set my blood blazing with gasoline. His voice was so powerful I felt the bite of chill from the glass on my nipples. I could feel the slimy surface, scrambling for purchase as Q pounded into me.
I'd never thought of being watched before. I'd always been rather shy about my body, conscious of imperfections, but Q made it sound erotically delicious.
I bit my lip, deliberating. How can you want people to see something so private, Tess?
I didn't have an answer, but my body melted, liquefied, burned at the thought of Q delivering his threat.
A loud knock shattered the carnal awareness thrumming between us.
The freedom of thought shattered, sending my mind reeling with fear. Who was there? Were we safe here?
My instincts weren't on high alert for myself-but for Q.
"Fuck," Q muttered. With a harsh hand, he pushed me away. "Get showered, esclave. Your outfit for tonight is here, and I personally want to dress you in it."
I didn't remember the shower. I didn't remember much of anything apart from the replay of Q having his wicked way with me against the windows in full view of strolling couples. I didn't pay attention to the hot water licking over my sensitive skin, or the shakiness of my hand as I applied mascara or blow-dried my curls. And I certainly didn't give power to my over-active instincts. I wouldn't ruin tonight by being afraid of nothing.