Tears of Tess (43 page)

I
slammed to a halt. Why, why,
why?

The
French romantic symbolism stabbed me over and over; I couldn’t take it. I stalked
forward, grabbed the edge, and threw it into the corner of the room. I couldn’t
sleep beneath a symbol of the country where my ex-master lived. I hoped to God
he suffered as much as me. Dammit, I wanted his cold heart ripped out—like mine
was.
You better be howling in agony, you bastard.

I
vibrated with anger, and jumped a mile when Brax touched my shoulders. “Tessie…
it’s okay. I don’t know what happened, but we’ll get you help. Okay?” He tugged
me toward the bed and helped me undress.

I
wallowed in thoughts, memories, wishing I could reboot my brain and forget. Forget
everything.

Dressed
only in the silky slip from beneath the dress, we climbed into bed. The whiff
of detergent and fabric softener settled my raging heart, reminding me I used
to find peace here. I could find it again, if I tried.

Brax
immediately brought my head to lie on his chest. It was a usual position for us
and I listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady, it lulled me into blessed
numbness.

Sleep
stole my world.

*
* * * *

“Esclave,
what do you think you’re doing?”

I
froze, looking up at my master. Q stood proud and hard by the side of my bed.
He stroked his rigid cock, lips parted with lust as eyes sparked with desire.

“Making
myself come thinking of you fucking me, maître.”

He
stroked harder. A bead of pre-cum glistened. I couldn’t stop myself. I shot
upright and sucked him. Q groaned, fisting my hair as I lapped and licked and
lavished.

“Fuck,
esclave. Your mouth is my entire world. I want to fuck you all day, every day.
I can’t think straight not fucking you. I want to tie you up and never let you
go.” His voice ran endlessly as he thrust into my mouth, nudging the back of my
throat with force.

I
moaned, slinking fingers between my legs, stroking delicious wetness.

“Stop
touching yourself, Tess. That’s mine. All mine.” He pushed me backward,
straddling me. In one quick move, he flipped me onto my knees and spanked me so
hard my skin screamed with pleasure-pain.

I
pushed my ass backward, begging.

“You’re
going to take everything I give. You’re not going to be able to walk. Do you
like the sound of that?” His brutal hand spanked me again; I groaned.

“Yes,
master. I love the sound of that.”

Q positioned
himself behind and—

“Shit,
Tessie, you’re soaking.”

Fingers
stroked inside, smearing cream between my legs. Brax lay wedged in my open
thighs and dream world dumped into reality.

It’s
not real.

My
heart thrummed, trying to understand. Q wasn’t real. Just a dream. I went to
run hands through my hair, to pummel the thoughts of Q from my head, but
fingers glinted with wetness. I touched myself in my sleep.

“You
were panting and woke me up,” Brax murmured, still stroking his finger inside. “You
sounded in so much pain, Tessie. Then you started fingering yourself and
moaning.” His voice ached with hurt, but he kept smiling softly. “I tried to
stop you, but you forced my finger inside, and well, you… you woke up.”

Shame
flamed my cheeks. I looked away, unable to see the turmoil in his gaze. “I’m
sorry, Brax.”

I breathed
deep, battling the urge to cry. I rolled my head, searching for the scent of
citrus and sandalwood. My senses were lonely, deprived of everything Q. No
longer mine to reprogram, I hated how I couldn’t hide. My body gave me away,
and Brax was lost and hurt.

I had
to fix this. I had to do something. 

Brax
shifted. His heavy cock pressed against my thigh. Knowledge blazed bright; I
leaned up to kiss him.

He
froze as I coaxed his lips open. I could give him back his girlfriend. Show I
really had returned.

With a
harsh groan, he collapsed on top, fingers working deep. His touch didn’t flare
or sizzle like Q’s. Horribly, I found myself growing dry, not wet.

“Tess.
God, I’ve missed you.” Soft lips pressed against mine. I wanted to close my
eyes, but I needed to reaffirm the man making love to me was not Q Mercer. Not
this boy with messy, floppy brown hair and eyes like the sky. This was Brax.
And I loved him.
I do.

I
winced as he pressed another finger deeper. I arched my hips, dislodging his
touch.  

Brax
stopped kissing me, looking down. “Is it too soon? I can stop. I just need to
know you’re here. I have to have you, Tessie, so I know I’m not dreaming.” He
ran his nose down my throat, sighing. “I’ve dreamed of you coming home so many
times, I don’t trust myself that this is real.”

I
cupped his cheek, tracing his lips with a thumb. Brax was all that mattered. I
had to stop thinking and carry on with my future. “I need you, too.”

I
needed Brax to wipe away Q’s claim. Then, perhaps, I could be free.

Silently,
Brax eased his hips, pressing inside. I winced at the bruising and dryness, but
held Brax’s head against my shoulder as he started to move. I willed my body to
respond.

Together,
we rocked and reconnected. His body filled mine, and I tried so hard to stay in
the present. To let the love for Brax evolve from fizzling to blazing passion,
but the spark never rose past a tiny glimmer. Not like the galaxies Q conjured,
like the devil-magician he was.
Stop thinking about that bastard.

Brax
moaned, kissing my ear. “Shit, you feel amazing. I missed you. So, so much, you
have no idea.”

I hate
myself.

I hate
Q.

I hate
my sick fantasies.

I
hated I couldn’t be the woman Brax thought I was. I hated Brax for complaining
about his problems rather than what happened to me.

I
churned with black thoughts, sighing in relief when Brax came, shuddering and
thrusting hard.

My
body never rose past a gentle burn, an orgasm was an impossibility.

Brax
pulled out and sat up, looking down. My silky slip had risen above my breasts,
revealing nakedness.

“Holy
fuck.” His mouth plopped open as he scuttled back, almost falling off the edge
of the bed. “Holy shit, Tessie. What the hell happened?” Tears glazed his eyes,
locked on my flesh.

My
heart raced. I looked down. A loud psychotic laugh erupted. Brax looked as if
he contemplated taking me to an insane asylum.

Flogger
marks, lashes, kisses of red, and smudges of bruises, painted my normally perfect
skin.

I
shook my head. If Q whipped and branded, knowing he was sending me back, did he
know my old lover would see? Did he do this deliberately?

Q,
you’re a conniving asshole.
But in that moment, I didn’t care. The marks linked me to
him, and as long as they etched my flesh, I was still
esclave
. Whether Q
wanted it or not.

Brax
stood, pacing naked. “Tell me what happened to you. Why the hell are you
laughing?”

My
smile dissolved; I dropped my gaze. Because my emotions played roulette, I
started to cry instead. I smashed at the traitorous liquid.

Brax hesitantly
climbed back on the bed.

Guilt swarmed
and I dragged sheets up to my chin. “It’s nothing, Brax. Nothing happened. I’m
here now. Okay? It’s in the past, and no longer matters.”

Brax
shook his head, panic in his blue eyes. “Do you need counselling? We can go
now. I feel so helpless.”

The
thought of talking to someone was horrid. “No. I’ll be fine. Truly.”

Brax
hiccupped, hunching his shoulders. His voice cracked as sadness fell from his
lips. “Tess, I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t able to stop them. I relive that day
over and over. I want to kill myself for not being strong enough to stop them,
and deserve to go to hell for not listening to you. I forced you to go into the
café. This is all my fault.”

Panic
flared. I couldn’t handle it if Brax broke down. I didn’t have the strength to
soothe him as well as me.

But he
dissolved, looking more and more distraught by the second.

I sat
up, scurrying to him, making sure my body stayed covered. My knees pressed
against his as I took his face in my hands. “It wasn’t your fault. No one would
have been able to stop them.” My body tensed, remembering Leather Jacket. “No
one, okay? We were outnumbered. You need to forgive yourself.”

Brax
hung his head. “Don’t you hate me? For not listening? I spent the last two
months thinking you were dead. To have you come back to life, wounded, and
mentally screwed up…”

I
flinched. I was a lot of things, but mentally I was fine. Q wouldn’t win. I
would get over him.

He looked
into my eyes, stricken. “I woke up in the men’s bathroom, alone. And you were
gone. I don’t know how I got back to the hotel, but somehow I did. The police
arranged a search party, but no one had hope. They called it off after a week,
and the Australian embassy got involved. They sent me home.”

He
laughed darkly. “They sent me home without you! How did they think I could go
on with my life? I wanted to stay and search myself, but the police said they’d
been to the café, and it was boarded up. No one was there.”

Brax
took my hand, squeezing painfully. “Where did they take you?”

I was
prepared to listen to Brax’s story. It was obvious it ate him alive, but my
story… I couldn’t. I couldn't tell him the horrible experience in Mexico. I
couldn’t tell him about the rape when I ran away. I couldn’t tell him how much
Q meant to me. How much I craved him—even now. I would take it to the grave.

Brax
grabbed my wrist, spying the barcode for the first time. Running a thumb over
the lines, he murmured, “They did this to you? The low life wankers.” He
flipped my wrist as if he could peel it off and make it disappear. “Why did they
tattoo you?”

My
hand went behind my ear, terror raging. I still had a tracking device in my
neck. Q may have taken off his GPS responder, but what if the Mexicans could
find me again? Did it automatically fail after time? I needed to find out how
to deactivate it, immediately.

Forcing
myself to be calm, I said, “Don’t worry about me; tell me what happened to you.
So you got home? I’m so sorry you were on your own, Brax. I’m sorry I left
you.”

My own
tears fell, caused by guilt and the knowledge Brax suffered and stressed. His nightmares
would’ve been horrific.

“When
I got home, I tried everything to investigate where women were taken from Mexico,
but once stolen, most girls were never found. Some were located in Spain, Saudi
Arabia, but never alive.

“My
heart broke, coming to terms I’d never see you again.” His voice caught, and he
looked with such agony, I shrivelled. “Then you called! I wanted to kill myself
for not picking up. But my boss had been calling constantly, begging me to
return to work, and I put it on silent. When I heard your voice, your panic, the
fact that you were alive. Shit, I wanted to break the phone into little pieces
for not being able to talk to you.”

His
chest pumped as his hands curled. “But you gave me a name. A fucking bastard called
Q Mercer. You gave me a lead. I had no idea what you were doing in France, but
I called the Feds, and they took over. They found a wealthy man living in Blois
who owned mega property. I did some research, but couldn’t find a single image
of him, or what he could be doing with you.

He
sighed before continuing, reliving his own nightmare. “The police stayed true
to their word. They said they’d investigate, and if they found you, they’d make
him release you and put him in jail. I hope to God they hang him.”

The
thought of Q dead had horror stabbing my heart. The hate in Brax’s voice
chilled me and I rushed to intercede. “Q Mercer wasn’t who I thought he was. I
escaped and found myself in worse trouble, but Q rescued me.”