I shook my head. I didn’t understand. All I understood was his voice had the power to make me come. The deep tenor vibrated through my heart, sending tiny orgasms exploding in my veins.

I needed to be touched. I needed to be kissed.

Kiss him. Let him know.

Launching upright, I splashed a wave over the tub. Q jerked back, but wasn’t fast enough. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I dragged him down toward me. His hand slipped on the rim, plunging his arms into the water, landing on either side of my body.

His mouth opened to curse, but I swallowed whatever he said. My lips stole his, and the moment I tasted him, I went a little mad.

My core squeezed with delirium, demanding to be filled. My eyes rolled back at the sheer bliss of kissing.

He tasted like freedom and violence and pain.

Pain…

A slight hiccup in my magical world before the cloud in my brain smothered it with need. Yes, I wanted pain. I wanted his roughness. I wanted his whips and chains and feral love. I wanted him inside me.

“Esclave…wait…” Q tried to speak, but he only gave me the opportunity to slink my tongue into his mouth. Joy bounced and fizzed in my heart, demanding more.

I moaned, dragging him closer. My hands dug into his hair, tugging with sharp-laced desire. His mouth opened, either in shock or passion—I didn’t hesitate. I thrust my tongue deeper into his mouth, willingly drowning myself in all things Q.

I wanted to cry at the deliciousness of the kiss. His lips. His heat. The silky, satiny wetness. The scorching, sizzling heatness.

Oh, God. My core burned; my heart fireworked in my chest.

Q groaned as I bit his bottom lip. I wasn’t gentle, bruising his lips with mine, dropping my hands from his hair to his face, holding his sculptured cheekbones, rasping my fingers on his stubble. I wanted to consume him.

His tongue lashed out, licking, teasing. His body leaned closer, pushing me further into the water. His hands on either side of me fisted, prodding my sensitive sides.

I moaned. My heart no longer existed in my chest. My entire ribcage was full of nymphs and pixies all casting spells, spreading their lustful dust.

“Q…” I needed his touch. I needed his mark. I needed so, so much.

His lips pressed harder, bringing smoothness along with roughness from his five o’ clock shadow. His head tilted to kiss me deeper; my lips burned with a glorious rash from his mouth on mine.

I never wanted the kiss to end.

But Q pulled away.

I wanted to cry. I never wanted to leave this enchantment.

His fingers cupped my jaw, holding me steady. Rockets and gunpowder detonated where he touched. My vision coated with a haze of amethyst and plum. Shades upon shades of purple. My favourite colour.

“You’re high,” he whispered.

If he meant feeling the best I’d ever felt, then I agreed. I was on a kite, soaring high, higher, embracing the sun and making the stars my home.

I shook my head. “High on you.” I craned my neck, seeking his lips. Tears tickled my spine at being denied a kiss. “Kiss me. Q…I want you so much.”

His eyes hooded, filling with lustful smoke. “You do?”

I laughed at the absurd notion that I wouldn’t. I’d ride him for the rest of my life if I could. I’d glue my mouth to his so the only way to survive was to feed off each other.

I shivered in need so painful, even the water was a deadly tease. “So much.” Unlatching his fingers from my jaw, I guided his hand to my breast. I arched, pressing every inch of me into his palm. “You’re holding my heart as well as my flesh. Q—please. I want you inside me.”

His fingers stiffened around my breast, pressing delicate tissue.

God, that felt good. Too good. My blood became a highway, speeding along with sparklers, setting powder-kegs ready to burst.

His teeth clenched; his grip released me, then tightened. He looked torn. Confused. At war.

He can’t deny me. I wouldn’t survive it.

Needing to share the magic, I murmured, “I want you so much I can’t breathe. I hate this water because I wish it was you around me, in me. I’m wet for you. I’m drenched for your fingers and tongue. Love me. Q—please…”

Q squeezed his eyes. “Fuck.” His forehead furrowed as his large body shuddered.  He tugged his hand from my breast, fighting me when I tried to keep him close. With an angry twist, he tore his palm away, breathing hard.

His gaze opened. “Vachement tentant.” So fucking tempting.” He shook his head, his lips pursed with restraint. “I can’t. Not when you’re high. I didn’t think it would be this bad. I just wanted something—I wanted you to enjoy it—to teach you how you used to love it.”

His hand suddenly swished through the water, cupping my pussy. His face distorted as he pushed a finger unapologetically into me.

God, yes. I screamed with sublime joy. My muscles clamped around him.

“Goddammit, esclave. You’re so damn wet. And now I won’t know if it’s because of your need for me, or what I’ve made you swallow.”

My hips bucked as he removed his finger. “It’s for you. All for you,” I panted.

His face twisted; fear crept into his eyes. “You do remember what happened before…don’t you?” His touch landed on my jaw again, wrenching my face to meet his. “Tell me—what do you remember?”

I nodded, distracted by the coils of damp hair whispering over my shoulders.

“Tess. Answer me. What happened?”

His voice was so amazing. Just like the rest of him. I sighed in perfect contentedness. “I told Leather Jacket to fuck off.” I giggled. It sounded crude and whiplash sharp, but it filled me with fire. “He tried to drown me again—I know he would’ve taken me back to hurt more women.” I frowned, vaguely remembering every fear and terror tripping over me the moment he shoved me under the water. I’d been so sure I would die.

My fingers curled. “But then I fought back. I fought like I’d forgotten. And—” I spaced out, thinking of the wondrous possibilities my future held, now I remembered who I was.

Q shifted beside me impatiently. “And….Shit, what else?”

I looked up, letting my hands float to the surface, dragging them through the water. “I won.” I shrugged as if he knew already. “I won. I’m free. I’m happy.”

His eyes dropped to my lips, darkening with need.

The urge to kiss him obsessed me, drumming my bloodstream with a war-beat. “Kiss me. Celebrate with me. I want you so, so much.” In a rush, I scrambled upright, trying to grab him. My fingers scratched his neck as he jerked back, keeping just out of reach.

His eyes searched mine, crawling deep inside me until he hammered at my heart. He touched me—right there. He reached inside my chest, cracked open the beating organ, and ripped it right from my body. I was his to devour. I wanted to be bitten, eaten.

Tears welled in my eyes. “Please…kiss me. I need you to kiss me.”

Q’s hands landed on my shoulders. His features contorted as he battled with things I didn’t understand. “If I kiss you, what then?”

“Then I give myself to you.”

His eyes blazed. “If we do this, we do it my way. Tu es à moi.” You’re mine.

“All yours.”

He lost his battle. “Ah, fuck it.”

He went from unyielding to slamming me backward into the water. His lips smashed against mine, forcing me to open wide for his invasive tongue.

My core melted, thrilling with every lick. His sharp teeth caught my bottom lip, pausing, as if to see what I would do.

In answer to his tentative bite, I tore my lip away, capturing his instead. Unsheathing my teeth, I bit down. His throaty growl undid the rest of my control.

I kissed him, fully intending to leap from the bath and force him to take me on the floor.

But Q shoved me away. He stood tall, towering over me.

The glitter from whatever Q gave me made him immortal in my eyes. Made him divine and god-like.

My heart seized as he ripped down his boxer-briefs. Not giving me time to drink in his impressive erection, or the way his muscles bunched and shadowed, he reached behind me and with a possessive shove, pushed me away from the side.

His long legs spread, climbing into the bath. He gripped the edges, lowering himself into the water.

His powerful thighs entrapped my body while strong arms wrapped around me, dragging me against his chest. The water level rose, licking at my shoulders.

I shuddered with how hard and hot he was against my back. It was like lying against living marble.

Q’s voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating through mine. “You say you’re free, esclave. Tell me…free from what?” His hands stroked my stomach, drawing ever widening circles.

He expected me to speak? I’d lost that ability the moment he slipped behind me.

When I didn’t reply, Q raised one hand out of the water. Cupping his palm beneath a dispenser tiled into the wall, his pectoral bounced me as he pressed the plunger, filling his palm with coconut shampoo.

I squirmed, very aware of the hardness digging into my lower back. I didn’t want to speak—I wanted to spin in his embrace and slide onto him.

Oh God, the mental image was too much.

Q brushed aside the wet curtain of my hair, sucking on my ear. “Dis moi.” Tell me.

My breath came fast; I did my best to obey. “I’m free…from everything.”

He tutted under his breath, dropping his mouth to press against the oversensitive brand on my neck. “I want details.”

I suffered a full body convulsion as Q’s hands landed on my head. His long, strong fingers slinked through my wet curls, spreading shampoo with slow, sweeping pressure.

I sank further against him, morphing into liquid. My vision danced with purple shooting stars, lighting up the bathroom.

How was I supposed to think when he touched me that way? Each stroke both relaxed and tensed me.

 “Tess…I’ll stop if you don’t tell me.”

My eyes flared wide. I never wanted him to stop. Ever. “I’m not afraid of baths anymore.”

He laughed softly. “I’d hoped that would be the case.” His soapy hands slipped down my neck, trailing over my clavicle, cascading to my breasts. “Not wanting to be in a bath with me would be terrible news.” His teeth nibbled on the top of my ear forcing me to suck in a shaky breath.

Tracing back up, the pads of his fingers massaged my scalp, sending scents of coconut to envelope us in a tropical world. Bubbles and froth trickled down my chest, looking like expensive spun glass and jewels.

“I’ve never washed anyone before you, esclave, but this is the second time I’ve had the pleasure.” His fingers drifted to the back of my neck, rubbing and coaxing with fierce ownership.

I moaned. Loudly.

“Do you remember the first? La première fois que je t’ai lavée de ton passé?” The first time I cleaned you of your past?

I let my eyes flutter. Memories of him holding me in his lap as hot water rained from above, filled my mind. I’d been naked while he wore a soaking cashmere suit. He’d replaced himself with memories of the rape. He’d taken all power of the memory, switching it into something I could survive.

Q grabbed me tighter, murmuring, “You’re mine, esclave. Mine to care for. Mine to fix. I’ll allow you to cry while I wash you, but the moment you’re clean, you’re to stop. Do you understand?”

I blinked through tears, shuddering so badly I couldn’t answer. 

“Everything about tonight will be forgotten, and you’ll only remember what I do to you. Is that clear?” He shook me. “Answer me.”

I nodded. There was relief in being ordered to forget and I would obey.

I’d never been able to see love. I knew what it felt like, how it hurt as well as healed, but until that moment, I didn’t know what physical form it took. Now, I did. It was a swirling world inside me, interlocked with the swirling world inside Q. Our two dimensions superseded our bodies and existed not in us but between us.

It was knowledge.

The knowledge I’d be there for him, and he’d be there for me.

It was blissful comprehension of never being alone and always cared for.

“I love you, Q.” I couldn’t hold back the tears this time, completely overwhelmed with gratefulness. “You truly are my master. Not because of the power you have over me, but because of the power you give me.”