I came.
I came.
I came.
And when I thought I’d finished, I came again on the smoke of the first, this one even tighter and dreadfully unforgiving.
Q followed me.
His growling grunt speared my heart as his cum flooded inside. Spurt after spurt, he marked me internally just as he had externally.
As we collapsed together on the floor, him on his back and me on his chest, I struggled to rearrange my heartbeat from manic to calm.
The ooze of his release dribbled down my thigh, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t cold even though plumes of our breath decorated the air. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I didn’t want to move or speak, but I couldn’t stop one resounding repetitive question from ruining the moment…
What is he keeping from me?
WOULD THE HIGHS and lows ever stop?
I thought I’d outgrown this. I thought the night of our wedding and the day of our vows had cured me of this ridiculous flip-flopping of happiness and hatred.
She made me so fucking happy.
But also made me hate myself.
I couldn’t look at her as we ate chilled caviar and rosemary roasted chicken on a blanket in the farmer’s field. If the farmer returned in time to see the scuffmarks in the dusty, hay-riddled barn, he might have some indication that two people had just fucked in there.
More than fucked.
Fought with their souls and punished with their bodies.
My cock still twitched from residual insanity from my release. Tess always made my orgasm so much stronger. She drew the darkness from me even when I did my best to forbid it.
I wasn’t the master.
She was.
Curse her to hell.
I’d wanted to be gentle. I’d wanted to make love to her rather than fuck her like an animal. Because I meant what I said. What if the reason for my frustration was because of my own issues? What if I was the one with the problem, and I was taking it out on her?
I swallowed those thoughts before I could rage again.
Swigging a mouthful of tart champagne, I reached across the small distance and caressed her raw, scratched cheek.
We sat bundled in a thick blanket that Mrs. Sucre had stuffed in the hamper, keeping us warm from the winter frost all around us. After we’d finished our episode in the barn, I’d cared for her like I always did.
Taking her so brutally meant I had to put her back together again. I’d used the wet wipes from the car glove box and cleaned the small cut on her cheekbone from the sharp hay stalks. I’d dabbed antiseptic cream on the wound and kissed her over and over again.
She tolerated my ministrations, more for me than for her. She knew my ritual of checking—to see how far I’d gone when I lost control—was entirely for my benefit. She was so strong in that respect. She let me abuse her—begged me to abuse her—and then required no aftercare whatsoever.
When she’d first refused to bow at my feet the moment Franco pushed her through my front door, I’d known. Known she wasn’t just my equal but my empress. Someone I would gladly worship because she had more strength and courage in one little finger than I did in my entire fucking body.
My eyes drifted to her tartan-blanketed form. Beneath her dress, I knew her hips were decorated with finger marks and a few strands of blonde littered the barn floor from where I’d jerked too hard.
Apart from her cheek, I hadn’t drawn blood. However, she had. She’d bitten through her bottom lip, making it puffy and red and so fucking kissable I contemplated a second round with her spread-eagled over the bonnet of my car.
Get a fucking grip, Mercer.
We’d been married for years. Would wanting her never go away? At this rate, I’d end up in an early grave from my heart popping with pleasure while inside her.
Cupping her cheek, I breathed, “Are you okay?”
She leaned into my touch with a gentle smile. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrugged. “I can think of a few things.”
She glanced away. “Well, so can I. But nothing relating to what just happened in the barn.” Tearing off a piece of chicken, she chewed thoughtfully. “You know, this birthday weekend isn’t just for you.”
I dropped my touch, ladling another mother of pearl spoonful of caviar into my mouth. Caviar could never touch metal or silver. If it did, the texture and taste were completely ruined. The high maintenance eating habits of the rich never failed to amuse.
“What does that mean?”
Tess glanced my way; her normally guileless blue eyes shadowed with questions. “I know you’re unhappy, Q.” She waved me away as my temper thickened and I opened my mouth to argue. “Before you say anything, I don’t mean you’re unhappy all the time. But there is something you’re keeping from me. I need to know what it is so I can fix it.”
What if you can’t fix it?
What then?
I sighed heavily. “There’s nothing to fix, esclave.”
“I say otherwise.” She hung her head, pouring more champagne as an excuse not to look at me. “I need you to tell me soon, Q. Before I go mad with worry.”
Stopping her fumbling, I placed my hand on hers. “I know I haven't been fair, keeping this from you. But I’m almost ready to talk about it. I promise.”
“You are?” Her eyes met mine.
I nodded unwillingly. “Almost.”
“So you’ll tell me before the week is over?”
A week?
That’s all I have?
How could I put into words something I didn’t even understand myself? How could I describe the longing inside me and admit I’d been lying for months, or explain the indescribable desire for something I’d never wanted before?
It was my turn to look away, glaring at the countryside and the glittering yellow sunshine. Snow still lingered in ditches and valleys but overall, winter had been too kind. A few leaves still clung to branches, and the occasional rustle of mice and voles spoke of an existence refusing to die even with temperatures teasing with freezing.
If nothing perished, nothing could be reborn.
The same mistakes and hardships would linger.
“Q…” Tess stole me back to her.
Gritting my teeth, I tore off a piece of fresh baguette. “Fine. You have my word. By the end of the week, I’ll tell you.”
If you don’t figure it out before then.
Tess was the most inquisitive and determined person I knew. She’d probably already guessed what my problem was. She could most likely put it into words far better than I could.
In a way, I wanted her to.
Maybe then, I could understand what the fuck my issue was.
THE LAST WARMTH of sunshine faded as we drove up the incredibly long driveway of Castelnaud-des-Fleurs. The Castle of Flowers.
Anyone with an income as sizeable as Q’s could rent this private estate—costing a small fortune for a few days’ stay.
I’d found it thanks to the contacts Q had made in the property world where he’d earned most of his wealth. We regularly brushed shoulders with building officials, high-powered governors, and businessmen with money and power.
Those same businessmen were on a secret list that Q and I’d compiled of known sex offenders and traffickers. I might have found my happily ever after, but I hadn’t forgotten my vow to help others. Along with our charities and regular donations to the families we’d already saved, we kept track of underground dealings and recent sales of women. Including a new trafficking ring that’d opened in Europe called the QMB—the Quarterly Market of Beauties.
Q had enlisted spies to watch and report. He wouldn’t let it go on for much longer before he slaughtered those doing the buying and scavenge for those who had been sold.
We weren’t bound by propriety and paperwork of the law.
We didn’t stand by and let such evil occur.
Q didn’t tell me much about what he arranged, or how far he had them
punished, and I didn’t ask. That day he’d found me in the warehouse and wrenched the heart from the man who’d broken me had shown just how dark I truly ran.
I didn’t squirm when Franco told me exactly what Q had done after Frederick carried me to the plane. I didn’t gag when he spoke of the gore, or lament and ask why Q had been so savage.
Instead, I thanked him. From the bottom of my soul. He’d only done what that bastard deserved, and I wouldn’t ruin his gift and sacrifice by ever being weak. Q could kill every last trafficker with his bare hands, and I would stand beside him with a rag to wash away the blood. I would spread my legs for him even while he smoked with sulphur from the gun he used to exterminate such vermin.
Did that make me a monster, too?
Yes.
And I accepted that wholeheartedly.
Turning off the ignition, Q gave me a gentle smile. Whatever violence that we’d given into in the barn was sated and whatever shyness and unwillingness to talk from our picnic had been shoved away to discuss at a later time.
He would tell me.
I trusted him.
And I didn’t care what it was, I would do it. Because that was what our marriage was. He took, I gave. I asked, he gifted. We were on a never-ending tug of war where we each took turns to win. But there was no losing. We had far too much happiness to ever lose.
“Thanks for giving me time, Tess.” He grabbed my hand from my lap and kissed my knuckles. “Je ne vais pas te torturer beaucoup plus longtemps. Jete le promets.” I won't torture you much longer. I promise.
I smiled, tracing his five o’ clock shadow with my eyes and lingering on his lips. “Oh, you can torture me anytime you want. Just not with secrets.”
A smirk appeared. “You’ve brought us to a castle for a few days. I’m sure they have a dungeon and some apparatus we could find a new use for.”
“I don’t think they had pleasure in mind when they cooked up the rack or whatever else those medieval heathens invented.”
“No, but that’s how history works. They create something for one purpose, but the future finds new uses. Better uses.” Unfurling my fingers, he leisurely inserted my index into his mouth.
I shivered as the hot wetness of his tongue shot directly to my pussy.
How does he do that?
How had he somehow not only captured all my senses but became the ultimate puppet master on my body, too?
“Ah, you’ve arrived.” A moustached butler appeared from the massive gothic front door, peering through the car window.
Q bit my finger before relinquishing my hand. “That’s your cue to behave.”
I giggled. “Me behave? I don’t know what you mean. I’m the perfect example of behaviour.”
He snorted as he climbed from the Aston Martin and slammed the door. His eyes danced with danger. “That’s only because they don’t see what I see.”
The butler snapped his fingers, summoning a chauffeur to drive away our car. I didn’t need to ask if they’d take care of the remains of our luncheon in the boot or if our belongings and friends had arrived.
In a place like this, things ran effortlessly—oiled by the perfection of money.
Looping my arm through Q’s, I inhaled the tantalizing scent of his coat. “What don’t they see?”
His head bowed; his breath hot in my ear. “They see the blonde haired angel with a sweet smile and kind voice. They see the wife of an egotistical, stubborn investor and assume you’re content to let me be in charge. They don’t see you as a threat.”
My temper flared. “You’re saying I come across meek and stupid?”
Q chuckled, guiding me into the castle. “No, my dear esclave. I’m saying they’re fucking stupid for not seeing the true you. The minx who would sooner be belted and chained than adorned in silk and finery. The woman with a temper to rival mine, intelligence to run my entire empire while still asleep, and the ultimate truth.”
“Truth?” My low heels clicked on the ancient flagstones of the castle. The temperature wasn’t as snug as our home, but cheery fires roared in the humongous entrance hall as we traded foyer for the heart of the castle.
He hugged me closer as staff appeared from nooks and crannies to take our coats and give us a welcome cocktail. “The truth, Tess. That you own my ass. That you’re the one with all the power.”
My heart constricted into a lovesick knot.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mercer.” A sweet looking young man handed us a goblet with some sort of concoction.
Even now, after so many years together, I still got a thrill being called Mrs. Mercer. My maiden name was gone. Forever banished. I no longer thought of myself as Tessie Snow. She died the day she was kidnapped in Mexico.
And good riddance.
“Please, allow me to show you to your room.” The man bowed, motioning us to follow.
Q and I fell into step, never breaking our hold on one another and sipping the overly sweet alcohol.
Grandeur was now a part of my life. If Q took me around the world to investigate a new hotel chain he’d invested in or the exquisite residence he’d purchased in Saudi Arabia so we had a base when he worked with the overseas authorities on traffickers, I enjoyed the gilded walls and gold embossed crockery.
However, just as wealth had dulled my wonderment, so too did poverty make it so much more appreciated. Q had been mindless in his acquisitions for wealth. He’d had nothing else to comfort him while recovering slaves found salvation in his home.
His company had been his saving grace. Until me, of course.
And now that he was happy, he gave away so much. He entered slums in Brazil and built free houses and upgraded the water supply and enlisted gardeners and teachers to form a better community.
He took me with him to Vietnam where he bought badly run hospitals and fired the staff that didn’t care and replaced them with top-of-the-line nurses and caregivers. He transformed bad into good wherever he went, and I was so damn proud of him.
“Good choice, Tess.” Q pointed at the wall fresco and cupid decorated ceiling. “The craftsmanship is superb.”
The servant took Q’s impressed interest to give us a guided tour as we climbed the sweeping staircase past portraits of long-ago deceased lords and ladies and travelled down plush carpeted corridors. Sconces, tapestries, and stained glass windows kept our guide’s narration busy as Q and I nodded respectfully, disappearing further into the enormous castle.
Finally, our guide stopped outside the largest wooden door I’d ever seen. It was gnarly and knotted with no decoration whatsoever. But it didn't need any. Its simplistic weathered age was all it required.
“This is your room, Mr. and Mrs. Mercer. Your guests are on the floor below. I was informed by Suzette that you would prefer not to be too close.”
I swallowed my laughter.
Damn Suzette and her meddling.
One of these days, I would book her and Franco a trip and ensure an entire hotel floor was unoccupied with the veiled innuendo that they could be as loud and as adventurous as they liked with no neighbours to hear them.
Q growled under his breath. “She’s always taken too many liberties that woman.”
This time, I couldn’t stop my giggle. “I’ll make sure she has payback. Don’t you worry.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask. He was wise. Women business should stay women business. Just like whatever he spoke about with Frederick was his.
Speaking of Frederick.
Q opened the door to our suite while I hung back to talk to our guide. “Everyone arrived okay?”
The boy nodded. “Yes. Your guests settled in about four hours ago. They’ve arranged for dinner and drinks to be served in the great hall at six p.m.”
“Dinner?” Q popped his head back out. “How many are attending?”
I patted his chest. “Don’t you worry about that. This is your surprise, and I intend to surprise you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Tess…”
“No. You wi
ll not badger me into telling you. Trust me, Q. You’ll like my surprises. I know you, remember? I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
Okay, maybe one thing…
But apart from that tiny inconvenience, the rest of the week would be purely perfect.
TRUSTING TESS AND her orchestration of the next few days—with no guessing what she’d planned—was hard. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her. I just wouldn’t put anything past her.
Look at our fucking wedding.
That had been ruined by Suzette and Franco thinking they had the right to strip Tess at the altar and give me the leash to her collar.
It worked because of our lifestyle.
But it wasn’t their place to do such a thing. Even though I appreciated and loved them for wanting me to accept that part of me. I got it. I did. And for the most part, I was grateful. But it also made me very fucking wary about social functions run by others.
Tess sat opposite me in a gown I’d never seen. We had a seamstress and suit maker on our books, so it didn’t surprise me that the gold silk clung to her figure with skilful precision.
Suzette and Angelique sat beside her at the large banquet table while Franco and Frederick sat on my side. The six of us had indulged in a decadent meal of pumpkin soup for a starter, pheasant and roasted vegetables for a main, and finished with a decadent tiramisu for dessert.
Since we’d arrived, everything had been relaxing and calm. Our room overlooked the aqueduct flowing into the valley below, and our bed was even bigger than our one at home with the convenience of a four-poster with thick swaddling curtains to cocoon us. The giant fireplace roared and was kept stoked by attentive servants, and the large claw-foot bath by the balcony would be used at some point during our stay.
The castle was quiet and straddled modern and history with seamless charm. We hadn’t explored much, but there was always tomorrow.
Sipping on a fine glass of aged whiskey, I chuckled as Franco acted out the bumpy landing they’d endured in the helicopter before we’d arrived. I wasn’t surprised. The valley here would’ve been havoc with wind thermals.
Tess and I remained quiet, letting the others do the entertaining.