by Bea Paige
“Arghh!” she grinds out.
I follow the sting of the slap with a firm lick, my tongue sliding over the warmth of her skin.
“More?” I question.
“More,” she confirms breathlessly.
In quick succession I raise my hand, slapping every inch of her arse until it’s beautifully pink. Every time contact is made, I feel the scar on my hand smart. Her pain and mine intermingle. Her release and mine bound together.
Rose begins to pant, a bead of sweat sliding down her back and pooling in one of the beautiful dimples that sit above her arse. Leaning forward, I lick the tiny dip of skin, tasting her saltiness on my tongue.
“Hmmm,” I rumble, not recognising my own voice.
“Erik,” she grinds out, arching her back and pressing her raw arse into my face.
Standing, I move around her, slapping her thighs as I do so. The expression on her face is blissful. Her body slumps, her knees buckling a little as her head falls forward. Sitting on the bed, I pull her body forward between my thighs and lift her chin reaching up to kiss her deeply. She groans against my lips, her eyes pressed shut, her mind someplace else. Selfishly, I want her with me in the moment. I want to see into her fucking soul, this woman that I love.
“Look at me, Rose,” I demand.
Her eyelids flutter open, a dreamy kind of look in her gaze, but her lip pulls up at the side showing me she’s still here with me. When has she ever left?
“Don’t take your eyes off me, okay?”
She nods, not able to speak as I lift up the front of her t-shirt and pinch her nipples between my fingers and thumb, soothing them after with my lips. I feel the heat of her gaze as she watches me lavish and suck at her tight buds. A low moan escapes her lips as my fingers seek out her slickness. With her nipple between my teeth and fingers between her legs I bring her to an orgasm that makes her body go slacken further, her wet heat covering my fingers as she unravels before me.
I let her come down from her release, fisting my cock as her juices slick my skin. My balls tingle with my own impending release, but I’m not done yet.
“Can you take more?” I ask her, hoping in my heart that she can.
“Whatever you can give,” she utters.
Pressing another gentle kiss against her parted, breathless mouth, I stand once more, my hands sliding gently over every inch of her skin. When I reach her arse, I cup my hand and slap her several times. Each time my hand meets her bare skin, all the worry, all the pain, all the fear I hold inside evaporates until eventually I’m empty of it and filled with nothing but love and unending devotion.
“You fill me up, Rose. You make it all okay,” I murmur into her ear, then slide into her as she clutches my cock deep inside, her words of love washing over me as we come.
Leaning my head on Rose’s shoulder I pull gently out of her. “Baby, I got you,” I say, wrapping my hand around her waist as I untie her arms. She folds herself against me as I lift her up and lay her gently on the bed, tucking myself beside her. She turns to her side instinctively, her arse still red from my slaps and her eyes at half mast.
Leaning over her, I press a gentle kiss against her ear. “Thank you, Rose, for being everything I need. For being there for me, for loving me. You have my word from this moment on I will take care of you for the rest of my days, and I will protect your heart always. I love you.”
A gentle laugh escapes my throat as I shake my head at how wondrous this feeling is for me, a man who never believed he could love again here telling this women how fucking adored she is.
“I love you too,” she mutters, her eyes fluttering shut as I gently stroke my hand over every inch of her skin. When her breath settles into the steady rhythm of sleep, I wrap myself around her and fall into a peaceful sleep of my own.
Chapter 20
Rose
Fran passes me a cookie as we sit at the kitchen table chatting about everything and nothing over our mid-morning cup of tea. It’s become a regular thing we do together. I like her company a great deal. I shift on the edge of my seat, my arse still a little sore from my time with Erik yesterday, but it only draws a smile from my lips as I remember the way it felt to let myself go, to let my guard down enough to trust Erik to take me to the place where pain and pleasure collide. To be able to trust Erik to take care of my needs and his own is huge for the both of us.
“You okay, Rose?” Fran asks, a knowing glint in her eye.
“Yup, just peachy.”
She arches her eyebrow, smiling. “Uh-huh, I can see just how much. Need something for that?” Fran motions to the way I’m sitting.
“Absolutely not,” I retort, grinning. “So, when are you going to tell me about the Seekers, Fran?” I press, asking for the third time in as many days.
She smiles, patting my hand. “When you’re ready to hear it.”
“I’m ready now,” I insist, grinning.
“You need to concentrate on your men and prepare yourself for when you have to face Ms Hadley and Viktor. I understand Ivan has a flight arranged for the day after tomorrow,” she says, changing the subject.
“Yes, the forecast is better for Friday. This incessant rain has been crazy. I think we’re all going a little insane being cooped up for so long.”
“I hope not!” Fran laughs.
“You know what I mean. Seriously though, I’d love to hear about the Seekers, how you met them, how you ended up working here when you have a voice of an angel.” She smiles at that, her cheeks colouring a little. “It would be a good distraction, honestly…” my voice trails off as I try to ignore the knot of worry in my chest. Despite the four of us becoming closer than we’ve ever been, I can’t seem to rid myself of the churning sickness I feel in my stomach when I think about Ms Hadley and Viktor. We must face them, and soon. I know that we can’t move on without doing that, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
Fran regards me for a moment, her gaze tracing over my face “My story isn’t for the faint of heart, Rose. I promise, I will tell you one day but that day isn’t today.” She gives me a no nonsense smile then stands, gathering the empty cups and teapot. She places them in the kitchen sink then looks at her watch. “Oh, damnit. Ivan asked me to send you to Anton’s studio at eleven, I completely forgot.” She pulls a face.
“He did? Well, I’ll head there now, I’m only ten minutes late,” I respond, glancing at my mobile phone screen. “Same time tomorrow?” I ask her.
She grins. “Same time tomorrow, Rose.”
As I approach the studio, I hear laughter. The deep gruff sound of Erik’s, the almost lyrical notes of Anton’s, and Ivan’s understated chuckle. It warms me from the inside out to hear them so at ease with each other. Once upon a time these men lived entirely separate lives even though they were sleeping under the same roof. Their friendship and brotherhood had been stilted, buried under years of unhappiness and anguish. Rather than encouraging them to talk, to spend time with each other, Ms Hadley had affected their relationship by keeping them separated. Ivan under piles of work and women, Anton locked up in his studio taking drugs to cope and Erik locked in a glass cage.
Now that she’s gone, we eat all our meals together and they choose to hang out with each other purely for the joy of it, rekindling the closeness of their youth and finding a new kind of normal. I’m happy for them, for us.
Pushing open the door, I step inside Anton’s studio, my mouth dropping open.
“What’s happened here?” I manage to say. All three men stand watching my reaction. All of them are grinning.
The space has been cleared of all the canvases, furniture and paints. On one wall is a run of mirrors, and a barre. Tucked into one corner is an easel, canvas, and a small side table holding some art material. In the opposite corner is a music stand and Erik’s violin case.
“Do you like it?” Ivan asks tentatively.
“But what about your studio, Anton?” I ask, looking from Ivan to Anton. I’m flabbergasted. This is just… ever
ything.
“I’ve relocated to another room in the manor. This is your space now… and ours, if you’ll have us of course.”
“But…” My hand covers my mouth as I look between the three. “You did this for me?”
“This and something else, but you’ll have to wait for that surprise a little longer, Rose,” Erik explains, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“What are you up to?”
Ivan grins. “That’s for us to know, and you to find out… eventually.” He holds his hand out towards me, grasped within them are my pointe shoes. “Would you like to dance, Rose?”
“I… what? My knee…” I fumble, losing my ability to form a coherent sentence. I’ve always wanted to dance with Ivan, and whilst he’d made that promise to me, I’d only ever hoped he meant it.
“…Is much better. I spoke with Alicia, she said that as long as we’re careful, and I support you as much as possible then you should be fine. Want to give it a try?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, drawing a laugh from his lips, “But are you certain?”
“More certain than I’ve ever been.” He grins and my heart gallops wildly. “Anton is going to draw, and…”
“…I’m going to play,” Erik finishes, striding over to his violin and picking it up. His large hands run along the smooth wood of the neck before he tucks it between his chin and shoulder. My eyes widen. The last time I heard him play was in the glass cage. I’ve no idea whether he’s able to keep his episodes in check now.
“I’ve been playing quite a lot lately, Rose. With Ivan’s help it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. As long as I don’t play Mazurka in A Minor, I’ll be fine.”
“Ivan’s help?” I question. Looking between the two. “How come I didn’t know about this?”
“You sleep, we dance, paint and play. We’ve been healing so we can be strong, for you,” Erik says fiercely.
My heart squeezes so tightly that I’m finding it difficult to speak. “You’ve done this all for me?”
Ivan nods his head. “Every day since you returned from Edinburgh, we’ve healed right alongside you.”
“But I’d thought…”
“That we’d abandoned you?” Anton asks.
“Yes, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because we weren’t sure it would work… Only, somehow it did. It has.”
Anton strides over to his easel, picks up the canvas and turns it to face me. On it is an almost perfect representation of Ivan and Erik. Ivan is leaping in the air in a perfect jeté and Erik is standing in the background, his eyes pressed shut in concentration as he plays the violin.
“That’s beautiful, Anton,” I choke out, my eyes trailing over the different shades of grey, white and black. It really is outstanding, so perfectly them, so perfectly him. All that beauty and not a shard of colour. “I’m so proud of you,” I say, striding over to him as he places the canvas back on the easel.
“Hey, anyone would think you’re in love with me.” He laughs as I throw my arms around him and bury me face in his neck. I laugh with him. I’m so goddamn happy. So happy.
“Stop hogging Rose, just because we’re not Michael bloody Angelo doesn’t mean you get to have her all to yourself.
“Fuck off, Erik,” Anton curses, but it’s filled with laughter and absolutely no malice.
Giving Anton a quick kiss, I meet Erik in the middle of the room as he strides towards me. With one arm he scoops me up around the waist and crushes his mouth against mine. We kiss with restraint and not an ounce of embarrassment. This feeling of being so wholly theirs is freeing.
“I can’t wait to play for you, Rose. Get those pointes on and dance for me, for us. Our Rose, our muse,” he says gently, putting me back on my feet as he pops his violin beneath his chin and runs the bow lightly over the strings. The sound peels over my skin scattering goosebumps as it goes. He returns to his corner of the room and waits, watching Ivan and I intently.
“So, you want to dance with me?” I say, a little shyly now. My heart is thumping so hard, I can feel it trying to escape my chest.
“I’m a little rusty. Are you sure you want to dance with me?” he responds, grasping me behind my back and pulling me flush against his body.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He presses a kiss against my cheek, then whispers in my ear. “First you need to get out of those clothes and into something more… appropriate.”
“Oh, yes?” I respond, warmth flooding through my veins at the innuendo.
“I’m talking about those,” Ivan says, pointing to some new black dancewear laid out on the chaise. He hands me my pointes and grins, shooing me away. “I’ll just warm up whilst you get changed.”
“You want me to change in the open?” I tease, pretending to be coy. He just responds with a wink.
Glancing at both Anton and Erik, I can see by the intense way they’re staring at me that they’re just as eager for me to undress. Well, if it’s a show they want, then it’s a show they’ll get. I can’t deny them anything. I don’t want to.
Throwing out a sexy grin, I sashay as gracefully as I can to the corner of the room. Keeping my back to them, I drop my pointes to the floor and pull off my thick cable sweater and t-shirt. Stroking my fingers lazily over my skin I undo my jeans, sliding them slowly over my hips and down my legs, stepping out of them. Beneath, I’m wearing a grey lace thong and matching bra. Their little noises of appreciation set my skin on fire.
“There’s my sexy muse,” Anton mutters, drawing a smile from me.
These days, my colour choice of underwear doesn’t vary much between varying shades of black, white, and grey. I do it for Anton so he doesn’t ever feel like he’s missing out. Of course, when I’m alone with just Erik or Ivan, that might differ. Often it’s red for Ivan and a deep emerald green for Erik.
“Jesus Christ, Rose, you might not get out of here alive looking like that,” Erik grinds out.
I look at him over my shoulder, chewing on my bottom lip teasingly before responding. “Bite me,” I say with a slow smile.
“Oh, I promise, that’s coming later,” he retorts.
Holding back a giggle, I lean forward and pick up the black leggings sliding them on. Next, I grab the short sleeved leotard. When I’m comfortable, I turn to my men and curtsey, sweeping up my pointes on the way back up with a flourish.
“You look beautiful, Rose,” Ivan says from the centre of the room. He stands with his back poker straight, wearing a loose pair of trousers. Whilst I’ve changed, he’s removed his t-shirt and is bare-chested and glorious. Now, it’s my time to suck in a breath.
“You’re looking pretty gorgeous yourself,” I respond pulling on my pointes and lacing them up my legs. I point each foot, flexing and stretching, getting used to the feeling of wearing them again. They feel like another skin, so well worn and perfectly moulded to my feet.
“Ready?” Erik asks, violin pressed against his chin, bow hovering over the strings.
I glance at him, there’s a lightness in his eyes I’ve never seen before and absolutely no fear or any kind of worry. He’s perfectly relaxed. Looking away from him, my gaze meets Anton’s as he sits behind his easel, a fresh canvas before him. He grins, holding up some charcoal. Lifting his fingers to his forehead he salutes me, smiling that soul-shattering smile of his.
Finally, my gaze rests on Ivan. “Let’s dance.”
The first note releasing from Erik’s violin has my steps faltering as I watch him. His eyes are pressed shut in concentration and bliss. My throat bobs as I swallow my fear that he’s going to suddenly lose control. But he continues to play without any sign of falling into despair. In fact, he plays with surety and confidence. Slowly he opens his eyes and looks at me, his amber orbs glittering in the soft morning light. He dips his head once, then plays in earnest, his body swaying with sharp movements that match the quickness of the bow sliding over the strings, and the skilled fingers as they find the right notes.
�
�Come here, Rose,” Ivan says, holding out his hand to me.
I take it and this time he bows deeply, dipping before me. His eyes meet mine, and something indescribable passes between us. Something magical, at least that’s what it feels like. When he grips my waist and lifts me into the air above him, I let go of any thoughts of inferiority and just go with it.
For the next hour we dance together, moving fluidly and without restraint about the room. We don’t follow any particular ballet, we just dance, somehow synchronising our movements. Ivan knows me body and soul, as I do him, so it’s little wonder we can be free like this together.
Occasionally, as we dance, I capture glimpses of Erik lost to his own wonder and happiness, and Anton, a pencil gripped between his teeth as he sketches us. In this room, together, the four of us are free.
And my heart fucking soars.
Chapter 21
“You know you’re taking the piss, don’t you?” Alicia says, as she feels around the tender joint of my knee.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I respond, innocently.
Alicia raises her eyebrows and gives me a stern look.
“Oh, all right, I might have pushed it a little, but it was worth it.” I chew on my bottom lip as I remember how it felt to dance with Ivan. That was a dream come true right there, made even more special with Erik playing the violin and Anton drawing us. If I were struck down by lightning right now, I’d die a happy woman.
Alicia pulls down my trouser leg, then stands. “Just know your body, Rose. It’s going to take time to be fully back to normal. Plus, your medical condition complicates things. Don’t push it, okay.”