Silly esclave.
The only obstacle I’d let her run into was me.
And nothing could save her once that happened.
She looked so sexy, so innocent. Her naked back so creamy and virginal for a whipping.
A growl percolated in my chest.
I bit my lip to stop from making a sound. Once again, I stalked her, letting her walk right past me as I found what I wanted on the sideboard.
A pair of scissors.
I didn’t know what they were used for; the blades were tarnished and dull. But they’d do.
Creeping toward her again, I snipped a small hole in the side of her dress, running the sharp metal with a quick slice around her waistline.
She stiffened and whipped to the side.
I ducked beneath her arm, continuing the slice around her torso to the zipper at the back. With a final snip, the silky material separated from the half-undone bodice and cascaded to the floor.
“Oh, no—” Tess scrambled to keep her dress from fluttering into ruin, but she had to make a choice: let her braless chest be on display or fumble at the bottom where her garter belt and beige tights complimented the white knickers that left nothing to the imagination.
This time, I couldn’t hold back my groan.
The staff had gone to bed.
Our friends had vanished at my bequest.
We were alone.
But it didn’t mean the castle didn’t have eyes in the walls and ears in the curtains.
I wanted to fuck my wife.
But I wanted to do it privately.
Stalking the small distance between us, I scooped her from the carpet and slung her over my shoulder. “Enough.”
“Q, wait—” She squirmed in my arms, her tiny fists on my lower back. “How did you move so soundlessly? I’ll never get used to it.”
I smiled ruefully. “The ability not to be heard comes in handy in most things.” I pinched her ass. “For parlor games and other reasons.” My trousers tented with my rock-hard erection. “I like watching you without you knowing I’m there.”
She trembled, prickling with energy.
My skin electrified with the thought of having her all to myself.
Just like I’d never played innocently with friends, I’d never played like this before.
Ruthless but loving.
Rough but fair.
My wife.
My equal.
I’d missed out on love and company in my life but now had so much more than I fucking deserved.
A small cry escaped her lips as I carted her from the great hall. “What are you doing?”
“Claiming my prize.”
“Your prize?”
I bit her hipbone, sinking sharp teeth into feminine flesh. “You.”
She shuddered in my arms, flinching a little as I bit too hard. “Did you have to ruin my gown?”
“That gown was hiding what I needed to see.”
“Damn you, Q. I loved that dress.”
I spanked her ass. “And I love you.”
“Strange way of showing it. You wouldn’t have destroyed it if you’d known how much it cost.”
I chuckled. “You should know by now I don’t care about things like cost and expense.”
She pinched my lower back. “Well, you should.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to decide what I’m worth to you one day.”
Shaking my head, I took the castle steps two at a time and barged into our bedroom. Placing her on her feet, I shed any resemblance of a man and smiled with masked serenity and rabid severity.
My fingers shook as I undid the bow of her blindfold, returning her vision.
She blinked, lips parting.
“Oh, esclave. When will you understand? Nothing else matters and you could never be assigned a monetary figure.”
She breathed heavily as I wrapped my hand around her neck and slammed her against the wall. Her eyes darkened, pupils dilated, and her ruined dress shrugged off within seconds. “Why?”
“Because you, my dear wife, are absolutely fucking priceless.”
THE NEXT DAY didn’t begin until noon.
After our drinking games and then Q’s wickedness and my multiple orgasms, we were slow getting out of bed.
When we finally did convene in the great hall for a full English breakfast and catch up on emails and conversation, we laughed and smiled with an air of holiday relaxation with all the time in the world.
It’d been so long since I’d been completely carefree—since I’d seen Q so…serene.
Organising this against his wishes had been a risk. I’d been worried sick about telling him. But it had paid off.
Hopefully, the rest of the weekend will go as well.
While the men took care of a little correspondence and business, the girls and I grabbed a few parasols and magazines and headed outside to the large sweeping gardens hidden behind stone walls.
For winter, the weather was kind. The sun shone bright and fierce, doing its best to hide the icy chill and encourage us to indulge in its brightness.
Claiming three of the six blue and white loungers already fluffed and prepared for us, we spent a wonderful few hours reading, sunning, and sipping on virgin daiquiris before we were joined (or more like interrupted) by our men.
Tomorrow was Q’s birthday, and today, I hadn’t planned a thing. I didn’t want to cram events and schedules into this getaway. That wasn’t what it was about. This was about unwinding and remembering how nice it was not to have anything to do.
The men took the free loungers, and instead of demanding we go for a walk or head to the river below to fish, they all dozed in the sunshine.
Even Suzette and Angelique nodded off while I watched my family and thanked the universe for everything I’d been given.
Lunch was served outside. Delivered by the attentive servants and placed on convenient side tables at the perfect height for our loungers.
Q chewed the rustic bread and duck pâté slowly, his French voice punctuating the cool afternoon as we shared harmonious company. “Good choice, Tess. This…it’s perfect.”
My skin shivered with delight that I’d been able to coerce and impress him.
He caught my eye, dragging me back to memories of last night and what he’d done. How he’d held me against the wall and stripped me. How he’d used the thick cord from the velvet curtains to truss my ankles to my wrists, keeping me wide and at his mercy. How he’d made me beg and taken his time after the quick session we’d had in the barn—making up for it with the luxury of pleas and commands.
By the time he’d finished with me, my ass was red from his palm, and multiple pleasure had melted my insides.
Q smiled, following my train of thought.
Flushing, I looked away, finishing my lunch before he could entice me back into his lair and ruin any hope of spending the rest of the day with friends. He was such a master of control. He kept my mind purely on him and our physical want for each other. The intensity between us didn’t give me space to worry about what he was hiding.
He has a few more days to tell me.
I just had to hope he kept his promise.
Once we’d devoured our lunch with crisp grapes and decadent cheese, we unanimously agreed a walk would be good now the sun had disappeared behind greyish clouds.
Even in winter, France was a heavenly vacation spot. We couldn’t sunbake in bikinis, but a jumper and jeans kept us perfectly warm. However, as we retreated inside to don walking shoes, jackets, and hats, we knew by the time we returned from our stroll, it would be glove and fire weather.
As we struck off two by two, I clasped Q’s hand and fell even more in love than I already was. Everything was going so well. Now, if only I could get him to tell me what was bothering him, everything would be perfect.
* * * * *
“I want to do something.”
I looked up from brushing my hair and getting ready for bed. “Do what?”
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After our walk, we’d all opted for a light dinner of cold cuts and Eaton mess dessert before retiring to our separate quarters. Being outside all day had drained us, and I needed everyone to be energetic for tomorrow.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I even brought the gear with me…on the off chance you’d agree.”
Placing my hairbrush on the marble countertop by the sink, I turned to face him. “Agree to what?”
His nostrils flared as he stormed from the bathroom, heading toward the fireplace. “Fuck, don’t worry about it. I’ve already asked so much of you. It’s pointless after you’ve branded and marked yourself as mine.”
Scurrying across our castle bedroom with its old world mystique and history, my white negligee fluttered like wings around my legs. Goosebumps darted over my skin—partly from the cold, but mostly from Q’s hesitation. I wanted to wrap myself in the dressing gown spread out in preparation on the bed. But I didn’t pause. I went straight to Q.
Flames popped and crackled, spewing furnace heat. However, even with the roaring fire, the room was nowhere near as warm as our home.
Placing my hand on his tense forearm, I said, “No, you don’t get to do that. Yes, I’ve done those things. But I’m always open to more. I want to know. Tell me what you want to do. And while you’re at it, tell me what else you’re keeping secret.”
He glowered, breaking my hold on him. Pacing toward the window, he breathed hard. Condensation formed on the icy pane of glass. “You’re so demanding.”
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.” I crossed my arms. “Now, tell me.”
Not glancing at me, he murmured, “It would mean pain, but well below your threshold.”
He deliberately ignored my attempt at finding out what he hid, focusing on the present worry.
Fine, I can be patient…I think.
“Have I ever given reason to hint that I’d say no to you?”
“No, and that’s maybe the point.” Dragging a hand through his hair, he turned to face me. “Don’t you think there should be more limits between us?”
“Limits?” My eyes shot wide. “What do you mean?” Once again, the fear that Q no longer wanted the kinky, violent world we indulged in slithered around my heart.
He said I’d kept him sick. That if I were any other girl who didn’t get off on pain, he would’ve found a way to fix himself and kill whatever monstrous urges tormented him.
But if I were a girl who ran from handcuffs and screamed at the sight of a whip, then Q would never have seen me. He would never have noticed my strength and will to fight him. We would never have given into each other or got married or shared so many years having fun and experimenting with all sorts of wondrously sexual things.
My heart ached. I rubbed at the spot on my chest. “Q—”
His hand slashed through the air. “Forget it, Tess. I’m not ready to talk about that.” Planting his stance wide, he growled, “Let’s stick to the matter at hand. I want to do this. It makes no sense. But I want to. Would you agree to it without knowing what it is?”
Q often did this.
Tested my willingness. Confident (until recently) in my steadfastness of never denying him. I’d only ever used the safe word once, and that was because he emotionally hurt me rather than physically. And the moment I’d said it, I wanted to take it back.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for Frederick helping snap Q out of it, and for Q giving himself up as the ultimate sacrifice to break my depression, I doubted we would be in such marital bliss. I would’ve walked out of his life and most likely ended up in a psychiatrist’s office for the rest of my days doing my best to get past it.
He didn’t understand how much I valued him for that. How much I hated myself for the silver scars I’d laced upon his face and chest when I lost myself to rage and whipped him.
I’d tied him to the bed and hurt him.
All in the name of returning to him.
If he could face his worst nightmare and permit me to almost kill him, then anything he asked of me was trivial. I would never hesitate. “Yes, I would. No question. Whatever you want, I accept. However, the moment it’s done, I want to know what you’re keeping from me. Promise.”
His eyes shadowed. “I still have a few days—”
“Promise, maître, or…no deal.”
Dangerous, deafening silence fell between us. His head lowered, watching me from his darkened brow. “You’d say no to me?”
I was so in-tune with my husband—so used to his ferocity and inner demons that I felt them clawing at his control. I felt him struggling to accept my demands without punishing me for standing up to him.
Which was contradictory because this entire duel, I believed Q wanted me to disagree. To say no. He pushed and pulled. Wanting me to give in but secretly begging me not to.
What is going on inside his head?
Was he ill?
Was his business doing okay?
Were we okay?
What if he wanted a divorce?
My chest ached harder. What if he’d wanted to tell me for months but I’d arranged a stupid birthday celebration and made it impossible for him to deliver the truth?
Tears burned my vision even as I laughed at what a preposterous idea that was.
Q and I…we were fated. Custom created and thrown together by a world that tried to destroy us.
He wouldn’t toss me away.
He couldn’t.
He needed me just as much as I needed him.
Q stiffened as my thoughts completed their terrifying circle and settled back into acceptance of my place and the rock solid foundation of my marriage.
I wouldn’t be that woman who doubted and became contrary with her convictions. He was mine. Forever.
Whatever it was Q kept secret, it wouldn’t break us. That knowledge alone gave me the strength to not push and give him time.
Drifting forward, I held out my hand, cursing the slight tremble. I had the strangest urge to shake on our agreement even though he’d given me no such oath that he’d tell me what was bothering him.
Prowling toward me, Q ignored my outstretched hand and cupped my cheek. “Don’t ever doubt me, Tess. Never doubt us.”
My eyes locked on his mouth. “I know. And I don’t.”
He gave me a look as if to say he’d heard my previous thoughts, tasted my fleeting fear.
I dropped my gaze. “I had a second of weakness. That’s all. I love you, Q. If you need time…time is what I’ll give you. Along with whatever else you want me to do.”
His lips landed on my forehead in the sweetest sin-filled kiss. “I’m so glad to hear that, esclave.”
My nipples pebbled as he gathered me close, nipping at my earlobe. “Now go to the bedroom down the hall. Last on the left. It’s the prettiest I could find on this level.” His nose nuzzled my throat, making me listen with my heart rather than my ears. “I’ll be there soon. Take this and obey each instruction.”
His command made me wet and eager. My fingers curled around a small piece of paper as he tucked it into my hand.
The moment I’d accepted the page, he let me go and vanished out the door.
1. SILK BLINDFOLD (FROM the game last night)
2. Flogger
3. Needle
4. Black ink (all courtesy of my luggage)
5. 1934 Pol Roger Brut Champagne (thanks to Castelnaud-des-Fleurs)
6. And a present for Tess that I planned on using many nights to come (she hadn’t been the only one buying gifts secretly)
Thirty minutes after Tess left, I stalked through our temporary home and mentally ticked off the list, ensuring I had everything I required. The black satchel in my hand—that’d been hidden at the bottom of my suitcase—clinked softly with what I intended to do to Tess. What she would let me do because she was mine and tomorrow was my birthday.
I planned to spend all night and most of the early morning indulging in her.
What better way to
grow a year older than spending it balls deep in my wife?
Tess knew I didn’t do puppies and petals. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t up to celebrating a night dedicated to love and connection.
By fucking her.
By marking her.
By letting my beast out to play and escorting Tess into the darkness she coveted and came alive in. My little sparrow was the kinkiest plaything imaginable, and the moment I let myself off my tightly controlled leash, she met me bite for bite.
Tonight would be no different.
Only…maybe it should?
That damn thought tormented me again. For months, I hadn’t been able to run from such conclusions. I’d always been a firm believer in doing whatever felt natural. But what if this wasn’t natural? What if I was stopping Tess from other experiences by keeping her chained to my demonous urges?
Either way, tonight wasn’t a night for reform.
My bare feet padded on the thick burgundy carpet as I passed empty rooms of our rented castle. How many other couples had indulged in fucking and degradation and every morbid, twisted delicious thing Tess and I did within these walls?
Were we the wildest or the tamest compared to the ancestors who’d once roamed here?
My cock hardened with every step. My lips smirked, thinking of Tess and my instructions.
I had no doubt she would’ve obeyed. Not because I commanded her but because she loved it. She submitted because she wanted what I did. She let me do nasty things to her because she enjoyed it just as much as me. My dirty wife begged for things that would terrify vanilla loving girls.
She wasn’t a princess.
Fuck no, Tess was my queen. My sinning, cursing, fucking twisted queen.
She still believed I held the cards in our marriage, but she couldn’t be more wrong. I’d barely managed to stop from taking her in our bedroom half an hour ago when she looked at me as if I caused her pain. Pain I could stop if only I were honest with her.
I wanted her.
No, I was beyond that. I was fucking obsessed with her.
She was more than my world. She was more than my lover, best friend, and partner. She was the blood in my heart, the breath in my lungs, the fucking marrow in my bones. Without her, I wouldn’t exist. Without her, my body would be nothingness: no heartbeats, no mind, no man…no animal.