His eyes pierced mine. "Remember the word you used the night you told me it was over?" His voice sounded bitter, miserable.
I hated I'd hurt him so badly. I had a lot to make up for. "I remember." My hand left the water, dripping with droplets to cup his cheek. "I'll say it if it gets too much. I promise. I won't let you force me back into my tower."
He nodded, tiny lines appearing around his eyes as he concentrated. "You say the word and it's over. It ends. You say sparrow, and I stop. Tu as compris?" Understand? His gaze dropped to my lips, waiting to see my oath rather than just hear it.
Wanting to give him my vow in the language he'd been born with, I whispered, "Moineau. Je sais que c'est le mot de sécurité, mais je ne vais pas en avoir besoin." Sparrow. I know the safe-word, but I won't have need of it.
"Why not?" Q asked.
"Because I'm always safe with you."
Q guided me forward, leading me through the dark.
My damp hair clung to my back while my equally damp body stayed warm, wrapped in a towel. I couldn't stop looking at Q. Even in the gloom his muscles cast shadows, making him look not of this world. The perfect V, disappearing into the towel, made my mouth water for sinful things.
I didn't know what lived in my system but the incessant need and sparking excitement completely overshadowed it. I was no longer high on substances-I was high on Q and what he would do to me.
Q's fingers entwined with mine, leading me to parts unknown. He looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure I hadn't changed my mind. I hadn't. I wouldn't. I wanted this.
"It makes sense. The darkness," I whispered.
Q chuckled. "I doubt it."
I frowned. What is his reason? Mine was a guess-but it made sense-to me at least. It made sense because of what he said before kidnapping me. I studied Q's naked back, thrilling with the knowledge he was all mine. "You want to keep the dark as the first stage of the crescent moon. The eclipse before the dawn."
Q slammed to a halt looking as if the symbolism knocked him on his ass. "Huh. I hadn't thought of that. But you're right. That does make sense."
Curiosity filled me. "What was your reason?"
His lips twitched, but he shook his head. "We'll go with your idea. Come." Pulling me forward, he descended a set of stairs which appeared ominously from the gloom.
It led to nowhere-nothing but pitch black.
My heart rate picked up, spreading the haze of magic around my veins. Visions of sexual discipline and delicious reward swarmed me, instead of terror.
Wrists Bound. Mouth kissed. Q's tongue between my legs.
I wanted to run headlong into pleasure.
Not speaking, Q tugged me down the stairs, going slower as we both lost our vision to blackness. He moved effortlessly in the dark. Despite his slower footsteps, he seemed to become one with it-absorbing it.
Slowly, my eyes adjusted from black to shadows. Outlines of wall fixtures and large islands of furniture showed a chasmal room. My bare toes sank into thick carpet; I shivered as the silky strands tickled my soles.
Q guided me toward a large shape in the centre of the room. I couldn't make it out. Yanking his hand forward, the inertia made me trot, swinging like a pendulum on his arm. I gasped as he spun me to face away, crowding me against the hard object.
He pressed his hips against my ass, rolling himself, deliberately taunting me with everything I wanted. My heart exploded with desire; I rocked back into him with no restraint.
He groaned low in his throat, grabbing my hips with bruising fingertips, driving harder against me. Fighting my violence with his-gluing us together in a quick flash of passion.
"Recognise it, esclave?" His voice dropped several decibels, sounding more and more like a luciferian master. His hips never stopped pulsing, scrambling my brain and any hope at conversational skills.
With shaky hands, I reached forward, following the satin of polished wood, dipping my fingers along the ridge to … softness.
Felt?
"A pool table," I whispered.
Q fisted my hair, tilting my head to the side. His mouth descended on mine, a tongue opening the seam of my lips effortlessly, despite clamping shut. The moment his tongue entered my mouth, a finger plunged into me, hard and fast.
"Oh, God." My mouth opened wide; I trembled with the onslaught-the act of ownership. He wasn't gentle, he wasn't sweet.
"This is mine. Everything is … "
I knew what he wanted. The word balanced on my tongue but I swallowed. I would never say it.
"Mine," he growled.