by Bea Paige
“Fuck!” I swear, unable to steady myself given my hands are still tied together in front of me.
Anton grasps my shoulders. “Rose, what are you trying to do?”
I feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek, and the whispers of his hair feathering against my skin. I shift my head slightly in the direction of his face, I know without seeing that his lips are inches from mine. It’s amazing how every other sense becomes heightened when one is taken away. My whole body is straining to make sense of the darkness. Anton’s hands move up across my shoulders, tangling in my hair.
“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Anton, to bleed me of colour? I told you before, you don’t need to steal it from me when I give it willingly,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Rose…” His lips brush against mine, the sensation is immediate and electric. It takes everything I have to step away. The cold air is harsh, sending a rush of goosebumps over my skin. I feel a waft of air as he reaches for me. But I take another step back, sitting down on the bed the moment I feel the frame pressing against my legs.
“For you black is disappointment, it’s the harsh reality of a life unfulfilled. It’s the voice of a man who wants to remind you of what you lack. It’s the shadows in the corners of a room sucking every shard of light and colour into its gaping maw. It’s the darkness that burns inside your chest. It’s death and destruction. It’s loneliness and nightmares…”
“Rose, you have no idea what it means…” Anton begins.
“I’m not done,” I say, interrupting him.
Anton sighs, but doesn’t try to protest. Instead, I hear him sit on the wooden stool across the other side of the room. Its feet scrape the floor as he adjusts his position. At least he’s staying, for now.
“For me, black represents many of the same things. The first few hours Roman had locked me in that cupboard I’d screamed until my lungs burned and my voice was hoarse. I thought I would die from asphyxiation, Anton. I remember the air was sour. It smelt of bleach and mold and my own distress. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I just fought, my fists pounding against the door, my fingers pulling against the frame until they bled. In all that time, Roman never came. I know he heard me, I know he did, but he didn’t unlock that door … It took twelve hours for Rosie to die, she died that first night he locked me away. In some ways Amber was so much stronger than me, because from what you told me, it took her a lot longer to do the same.”
“Fuck!” Anton swears. I hear the thump of his fist against the wall. “FUCK! FUUUCCKK!” he roars into the darkness. I wait for him to quieten before I continue.
“Black is death. It’s the nightmares of my childhood, the monster lurking in the dark. It’s the predator waiting to devour me. It’s suffocating fear and every negative thought I’ve ever had hanging over me. It’s overwhelming depression, but it’s also much, much more. I think that’s what Erik was trying to tell you when he quoted Rumi, trying to tell me.”
“It’s emptiness. That’s all it is. Let me light the fire, Rose,” Anton pleads.
“No. I’m not done. You wanted to strip me of colour, well, this is the only fucking colour that matters, Anton. Black might have been my death, but it was also my beginning. This, right here, is where I feel most comfortable in the pitch black that you abhor. This is who I am. This is me. The darkness isn’t my weakness like Erik first thought, it’s my strength and it will be yours too.”
“Rose, please…”
“Anton, you’ve locked me in a room with every intention of destroying me the same way you did Amber, the least you can do is fucking listen to what I have to say. You owe me that. If it turns out I’m wrong, you can take whatever’s left of me.”
He doesn’t respond, the harshness of his breaths the only acknowledgement that I’ve struck a chord.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Anton
“I don’t know at what point the dark void around me began to seep inside, only that it did. I stopped screaming, stopped trying to escape. I accepted my fate, and with it the darkness. I knew what would happen when Roman unlocked the door. I knew he was going to kill me, and I decided there and then that I would be the one to kill the trusting girl who followed him onto that boat. I wouldn’t let him take that from me. With every breath in I absorbed the darkness and with every exhale Rosie started to disappear…”
“Rose, you don’t have to go on.”
Please, no more…
In the pitch black, she can’t see how fucked up I am by her words. I wanted this, I wanted her to bleed for me, and she’s bleeding for me now. The thing is, I’m bleeding with her… every single word she shares is like a knife to my skin. She sits opposite me, her hands tied, vulnerable in her nakedness but stronger than I can ever hope to be.
She’s so fucking strong.
I want to crawl to her on my hands and knees, beg for her forgiveness. I want to stand over her, fist her hair in my hand and rule her. I want to bury myself inside her, drawing on her breaths, her strength, making it my own. I want to paint her every damn day for the rest of my shitty life.
“You need to see who I am once and for all, Anton.”
I hear the soft thud as her feet press against the bare wooden floor. She glides towards me on silent steps as though she is the fucking darkness, and perhaps she is.
Her clasped hands rest on my lap as she kneels before me. She breathes softly for a moment and it’s as though the pitch black has been given life through her.
“I survived because I allowed the darkness in. I accepted Roman and all his ugliness. He didn’t take my life that day on the boat because when he looked inside me, he saw the same darkness reflected back. He found his place with me, Anton, and for a short while I found my home with him.”
“He was going to kill you, Rose. He wasn’t a good man.”
“No, he wasn’t, but that’s the thing, I loved him anyway.”
“And yet you run from love now… Haven’t you thought about why that is?”
She sighs. “This isn’t about love. This is about accepting who you are. I found strength in the darkness, Anton. It’s a part of me, just like it’s a part of you. Stop chasing the damn rainbow because you won’t find what you need at the end of it.”
“It isn’t as easy as that, Rose. It’s an addiction, one I’ll never be able to satisfy.”
“Before you left earlier you said you wanted to purge your soul. Do it now, here with me in the pitch black. Let it in, let it fill you up. Draw your strength from it. Accept it as part of who you are. I’ve accepted who I am. I believe I’ve found a home with you all here at Browlace Manor…”
“You have, Rose, you have,” I implore, grasping her hands within mine.
“Then trust me on this. Black is death, it’s depression and sadness, fear and hate. It’s the bottomless pit of a broken soul. It’s all of that, but it’s also strength, power. It’s the potential to live again. I emerged from the darkness a stronger person. I’m here today because I let it in.”
Rose takes my hand and places it between her breasts, beneath I feel her heart thudding against her ribcage.
“The darkness lives within me. My demon inside was brought to life in the pitch black, and I’m alive today because of her. I’m in this locked room strong enough to face my biggest fear because of her. I cannot hate the darkness, I won’t, and neither should you. Embrace it with me. I’m not promising it will be easy, that you’ll be immediately cured of your obsession, but it’s a start.”
My heart is fucking pounding, my body trembling. She shifts closer to me, her fingers sliding up my chest. Hooking her still tied together wrists over my head, she straddles my lap, pressing her softness against me.
“See me, Anton,” she murmurs against my ear, before resting her cheek upon my shoulder.
She’s given me so much and yet I still hold something back from her. Something I should have told her way before this point. It’s my last truth and she deserves to hear it.
“I painted you, Rose,” I blurt out into the darkness.
“I know, I’ve seen the canvas, Anton.”
“No, I painted you.”
She stiffens in my arms but doesn’t move away.
“Like you did Amber?”
“Yes,” I choke out.
“When?” she asks, lifting her head. Her long hair whispers against my arms sending a rush of goosebumps over my skin.
“You were disappearing before my eyes and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you dissolve in the dark like that.” I hear the pain in my voice, the remorse. I hope she does too.
“The paint on my leg…” she gasps, remembering. “You painted me whilst I was passed out that night?” Her voice is quiet, controlled, but I recognise the veiled anger in the tautness of her muscles.
“I did,” I admit. “I needed to see you, Rose. I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucked up.”
Rose shifts in my arms. “Was that all you did?” Her voice is low, deadly.
“Fuck! I would never, ever, do that…” I grasp her face in mine. “I’ve done many things I shouldn’t have, but rape… I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Please believe me.”
“I do,” she breathes out. Her muscles relax, releasing the tension she holds. Rose presses her lips lightly against mine. “I believe you, Anton. You are many things, but I know you’re not that man. Now, will you trust me?”
“I’m…” I start, not able to find the words I need to explain how fucking terrified I am.
“Don’t be afraid. Take my hand and dive into the pitch black with me.”
Right now, in this moment, I realise Rose has given me another choice.
I don’t have to walk away. I don’t have to steal her colours. I don’t even have to wait for the scraps she wants to share. I can dive in the pitch black with her and accept who I am once and for all.
Standing, I lift Rose and stride over to the bed, laying her down. Kicking off my shoes, I discard my clothes and climb onto the bed. I’m careful as I move over her, nudging my knee between her thighs. She parts her legs, opening for me.
I can’t see her, and she can’t see me, but instead of terrifying me, there’s a certain kind of comfort in that. We’re wrapped in the arms of darkness, free to be who we are without judgement and it feels good, right.
“Thank you, Rose.”
“For what?”
“For being you.”
And even though I can’t see her, I know she smiles in the darkness. I smile back as I lower my head and press my lips against hers. She accepts my kiss, opening her mouth as my tongue seeks out her warmth. The kiss is slow, sensual, as we explore each other. It’s a fucking beautiful kiss, filled with silence and acceptance. If I could kiss her like this forever it would be enough. She moans into my mouth. Her wrists are still bound, she hasn’t asked me to remove the bindings. I don’t want to, not yet.
Pulling back, I slide my hands up Rose’s arms urging her to place them above her head.
“Do you want this?” I murmur.
“I wouldn’t have walked into this room if I didn’t, Anton.”
“When did that change?”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted you, but I guess you can blame your father and Ms Hadley for forcing my hand.”
She laughs into the darkness. The sound is lyrical, light, free. There are no tears from Rose, no begging for my attention or my love. She doesn’t want to change me like my father, she doesn’t want anything apart from the truth of who I am.
“What happened exactly?”
“Let’s just say they provoked my demon, and she protects what’s hers.”
“I’m yours?” I ask.
“Yes. For better or worse.”
“Is that a proposal?”
She laughs again. “No, it’s the truth.”
My throat constricts, and I must distract myself from the strange emotions squeezing the breath from my chest. “I’m going to tie your wrists to the headboard, okay?”
“Okay.”
Untying a portion of the rope, I pull her wrist upwards and retie it around a slat in the headboards, tugging on it a little to ensure that it’s secured.
“Do I need to draw on my demon, Anton?” she asks me.
“Not unless you want to,” I retort.
“Another day, perhaps.”
Rose bends her knees, parting her legs either side of me so that I can settle between them. My cock teases her opening but I’m not ready to lose myself within her just yet. There’s so much I wish to explore before I allow myself that freedom. Using my other senses to help, I reach for her.
First touch…
Without my sight, touch becomes the single most important sense, more so than any other. I touch Rose as though I truly am a blind man and press my fingertips gently over her features, tracing a line over her eyebrows and the delicate skin of her eyelids. My fingertips find her hair, and I massage her scalp. Her breathy moans tell me this is something she loves but doesn’t get enough of. Lowering my hands, I brush my thumbs over her lips, allowing her mouth to draw them in. She sucks hard, her tongue twirling around them both as I brush my fingers over her nose and cheeks. I can’t help but groan, imagining what it would be like to have her mouth around my cock.
“You like that, Anton?” she whispers.
I respond with a kiss and a gentle nip against her bottom lip. Her responding laugh making the darkness even less of a threat. Moving lower, I trace my fingertips down her neck, circling my hands around her throat, my thumbs pressing gently against the hollow above her collarbone. She draws in a sharp breath, but it’s not from fear. No, Rose’s pulse hammers in excitement as my fingers tighten ever so slightly. Storing that piece of information away, I release her, and flatten my palms against her decolletage. Rose arches her back encouraging me to move my hands lower until they grasp her full breasts. I can feel her nipples pebble beneath my palms as I gently mould her plump softness, committing every moan of pleasure to memory. My mouth waters to taste her… not yet.
Touch first.
Lowering my hands over the slight curve of her belly, I take my time before reaching the thatch of trimmed hair between her legs. My cock twitches the moment my fingers find the soft folds of her pussy. I don’t need to see to know how beautiful this part of her is, because I can feel it. Every fantasy comes to life as I run my fingers down her slit, seeking out the wet warmth that awaits me there. I tease her clit with the pad of my thumb as Rose moans provocatively. Her breathy pants like a balm to my soul.
“Anton, taste me,” she begs.
“Not yet, Rose,” I respond. I need to touch every part of her before I can build the picture in my head with taste.
Withdrawing my hands has Rose pulling against her restraints in her impatience. She’s not submitted to me in the way she might with Erik. She isn’t refrained, quiet, patient.
This is a different kind of submission.
This is one person welcoming the touch of another with no obligations or strings attached. Rose and I don’t love one another. Not in the real sense of the word, but we are accepting one another in the simplicity of this moment.
Could I love Rose? It’s a question I’ve asked myself more than once since I met her.
Right now, as I trail my fingers, down her legs towards her feet, I can’t answer that. Love is such a strong emotion. Apart from a brotherly love for Erik and Ivan, I’ve never loved anyone. I don’t know what love is between a man and a woman. Lust, desire, obsession. That’s what I’m familiar with, but love?
I don’t know what it feels like.
When I reach Rose’s feet, I massage them, taking my time before moving on to the next sense.
Taste…
I lower my mouth to her ankle, running my lips gently over the bone. Another moan releases from Rose. Her voice seems to have a direct link to my cock because every moan, every pant is beautiful torture, a symphony of music specific to her and now me. I know that when I next draw her those sounds will be pl
aying on repeat inside my head.
Moving slowly up her leg, I taste her skin, sucking and nipping her calf muscles, licking behind the back of her knee and trailing my teeth up the inside of her thigh. Pulling back, I move up her body purposefully avoiding the one area I know she wants me to taste over any other. A disappointed noise is soon followed by a sharp intake of breath as I take her pebbled nipple in my mouth drawing on it, teasing it, understanding that with every lick her core becomes wetter for me. Grasping her breasts, I move between each one, sucking and nipping, lavishing attention.
“Anton, please.” Her voice is breathy, needy.
It’s another side to Rose I didn’t think I’d ever see. In the darkness she allows this part of herself the freedom to just be.
She isn’t Domina. She isn’t even Rose; a woman who has to compartmentalise herself to fit a role. She’s just her. In the darkness she becomes everything that I never thought was possible. It encompasses her, brings her to life.
In the darkness she finds a way to exist, and somehow so do I.
“Anton, are you going to make me beg?”
Her desire for me is a strong aphrodisiac, but I remain focused knowing this may be the only chance I get to really, truly see Rose. The pitch black has given her shelter from eyes that search for too much too soon. Ivan loves this woman, and I can see why, but she needs time. Maybe she’ll never let his love in, maybe she will. But he will need to learn that patience is the only thing on his side.
All I know, is that in the darkness she can be whoever she wants, and right now she’s free to be a woman needing to be touched, fucked, adored.
She wanted my devotion and I can give her that now. I will give her that.
Releasing her breasts, I cup her face in my hands and take her mouth. This time it isn’t sweet, or slow. It’s passionate and all consuming. It’s the kind of kiss that burns you up from the inside out. There was a time I believed I would suffocate her, draw on her vitality, her essence, everything that makes Rose who she is. But as we kiss that fear disperses. Whatever this is between us, it’s more than I ever hoped for. It’s enough.