Twisted Together, стр. 42

Her body flushed, releasing the guilt of what she’d done to the other girls. She shed the horror of hurting them. She finally came to terms that it wasn’t her fault. None of it. None of them had any choice.

Her sigh was full wonderment and joy.

Freedom.

It was done.

Thank fucking God.

Throwing the pill from my palm into my mouth, I grabbed the back of her neck. She shoved my chest, but she was no match for me. Slamming my lips against hers, I forced the second and final drug onto her tongue. The taste of her unlocked all the padlocks I’d surrounded the beast with, and I knew I had seconds left before I undid all the good I’d managed to do.

She growled, trying to bite me, but it was too late. She choked, swallowing the final stage in a rush of rage.

The moment it was done, I bolted.

Get out. Get out.

Charging out of the bathroom, I shot down the hall and ran. I ran until I had enough distance to talk myself out of going back if I snapped.

Out of breath, out of control, hanging onto sanity by a thread, I braced my back against the wall and yanked out my cock. My boxer-briefs tore with the violence of my touch.

The second my fingers latched around my length, the world ceased to exist.

I dropped the cage, unravelled the chains, and let the monster free.

Bashing my head against the wall, I fisted myself and jerked. I strangled my cock as if it was another demon deserving to die. I punished it. I fucking hurt it. I moaned and groaned and thrust like a beast possessed into fingers that only brought pain.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. All I focused on was the arching, sparking, seething need in my balls.

With my other hand, I grabbed the tight aching things and with a roar, gave myself over to what I’d wanted since I kidnapped Tess from the hotel.

I came.

Thick white spurts, arching through the darkness, splattering against the floor. I growled as heat built and cramp stole my legs from under me. With each wave, I kept up my brutal torture on my body. I wrung its fucking neck, brutalizing it for making me so subservient to horrible desire.

As the last ripple erupted from the tip, I slid down the wall.

My heart was a frenzied lunatic.

Sweat covered my entire body and a chill turned my shivers of pleasure into shivers of cold.

But despite feeling guilty, sick, twisted, and completely fucked-up, a small smile graced my lips.

I’d done the unthinkable and won.

I’d had the opportunity to ravish a slave.

I’d had the chance to be the monster I’d always wanted.

But I hadn’t.

I’d kept her safe.

And she was free.

Chapter Seven

Our monsters found solace in each other’s perfect heart, the devil himself couldn’t tear us apart,

You belong, I belong, our twisted souls forever

It was like waking from a nightmare.

Clouds parted, mists dispersed, clarity took hold. But it wasn’t a nightmare. I’d lived it. I’d breathed it. My heart raced, my body had bruises that weren’t there before, and my mind…my mind was…empty.

I was weak and wobbly but beneath the rush and sickness of adrenaline lived a small incandescent ball, lodged in my heart, growing bigger and bigger. Every breath it grew brighter, swallowing the darkness and weakness inside. I no longer ached for the girls I’d hurt. I no longer felt crippled by guilt. I didn’t seethe with rage at what they’d stolen from me. I didn’t fight constant tears at the thought of disappointing Q.

All of that was overtaken by wondrous liberation.

The nucleus of the old me—who’d fought and won and returned to a master who turned out to be my soul-mate—sprang back into power. It was like spreading crumpled wings, learning how to fly again.

The moment Leather Jacket had run, I’d claimed my freedom. Everything seemed less oppressive. The guilt was still there…just liveable. The memories still haunted but they were ignorable.

Leather Jacket had razed my self-confidence to the ground, but by letting me win—he’d given it back.

My hands curled at the thought of running after him. I wished for a gun and a bullet etched with his name. I wanted to chase him. I wanted to kill, but the luminosity inside demanded no more blood. No more tarnish or slime or death.

Serenity. I’m free.

Nothing in the world could make me give it up.

I turned toward the bath, surveying the dark bathroom with the detachment of a dream. Liquid drenched every inch, creating a gloomy water-world. My naked body rivuleted with droplets as I practically paddled toward the huge bath.

Staring into the still rocking waves, I waited for terror. I waited for flashbacks of being held under and choking but…nothing.

No memory came to fill me with horror; all I remembered was Leather Jacket releasing me and running. If his intention had been to kill me and finish the job—he should’ve stayed away, because now—now I remembered the good as well as the bad. I’d been reminded of everything that I’d lost.

Crushing, joyous tears travelled up my spine, blurring everything. I’d never felt so emptily happy. Thoughts echoed with no rebound, my mind could focus on one thing and not be swallowed by the past.

The silence was ten times, no a hundred times better than my tower. This silence had no walls or cages. This silence came with no stigmata or consequences.

I’m free.

Q.

My heartbeats danced. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to test my conclusion that I was strong enough for him. Would pain still make me run? Somehow, I didn’t think it would.

Where was Q? It seemed an age since I’d seen him—the longest we’d been apart since he rescued me.

Maybe this time it’s your turn.

My eyes flared. Did Q need rescuing? Had I been so wrapped up in my sad little world that I’d put too much on him. The answer was too loud to ignore.

Yes.

It was my turn to give him what he wanted. My turn to give him the relief he needed through pain. But…not yet. I wanted to exist in this precious, perfect moment a little longer. I wanted to solidify the truth and realign every piece of me that’d been scattered by Leather Jacket. Puzzle pieces slotted together, building the complete picture. I was back. My self-worth and belief was miraculously returned.

Sweeping a leg over the tub, I sighed as every muscle unlocked and melted, sliding into the hot water.

The heat cushioned me, hissing against the minor burns on my breasts from the wax Q used and flaring the remaining spanks from before, but I didn’t care. I let go of everything, drifting in happiness. I’d won. I’d done it. I’d survived.

Then something cloud-like crept over my mind.

Something warm.

Something soft.

Something sweet.

“Tess?”

That voice. All depth and gravel and sinfully French.

I stretched as the one syllable of my name echoed in my limbs. I’d never felt a word before, but I did now, and I wanted more. I wanted sonnets whispered in my ears. I wanted lullabies murmured in my mouth.

I opened my eyes.

The bathroom was still dark, but something seemed to be wrong with my brain. I no longer saw darkness; I saw fractures of light, sparkles, glitter in the grey.

“Wow,” I whispered.

Something touched my cheek; I shivered instantaneously. It was too much. Too damn delicious. It was as if the sun trickled through my skin, sending rays directly into my heart.

My eyes travelled up and I blinked.

He was stunning.

He was dazzling.

He was poetically spectacular.

Q’s gorgeous lips spread into a gentle smile; his eyes were pale perfection in the gloom. “Tu vas bien?” You okay?