by Bea Paige
By the time I pull away her chest is heaving and the warmth between her legs inviting. As my fingers move in and out of her wetness, I work my way back down, blazing a trail across her skin until finally my tongue reaches her clit, tasting this powerful, strong woman at last.
She’s fucking everything.
“Ah-ahh!” she moans as I lap at her wet core, devouring her beautiful pussy. My tongue replaces my fingers, spearing her centre as my hands slide up behind her thighs holding them steady as she rocks against my mouth. My balls tighten, her enjoyment turning me on to the point of losing it.
But I’m not done. There’s still so much to explore, to imprint on my memory.
So, I take her to the edge, easing back when I think she’s about to come. I do it over and over, licking and sucking, pulling back and kissing her thighs, then returning to the warmth, to the distinct musk that is Rose until she’s begging me to fuck her, to allow her the release she so craves.
The thing is, I’m scared to let go. Scared that once I do, once we return back to reality and I have to turn on the lights everything will go back to the way it was. Somehow, she’s made the darkness a place of safety, comfort, and I don’t want to leave. Not just yet.
I never thought I would think that way, but I do now. Rose has made that possible.
Rearing up, I untie the rope from the headboard and Rose’s wrists. I can feel the groove the rope has made in her skin and smooth my thumbs over the ridges, bringing them to my mouth to kiss. The moment I let go of her hands, she pushes against my chest forcing me back onto the bed, then climbs on top of me. Her thighs encase mine as she leans over me, finding my hands, she twines her fingers with mine as she pulls my arms up above my head.
Then holding my hands in place with one hand, she reaches for my cock and cupping me at base, lowers herself down onto me. I’m not sure who’s louder, her or me, but we both let out a moan of pleasure as I fill her up. She settles around me, her internal muscles clasping me tight. Rose doesn’t move, she just allows her body to take me. Her head falls forward, her long hair brushing against my face as she lowers her face to mine. She’s inches away, I can feel her soft breaths, and I draw on them, inhaling her into my lungs as she inhales me into hers. Neither of us take from the other without giving in return.
Then slowly, ever so slowly she moves above me, rocking her hips against mine. This isn’t fucking, this is something different, something far more intimate. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.
I smell her; the arousal and the sin.
I feel her; the broken and the beautiful.
I taste her; the heady musk and delicate sweetness.
I hear her; the gentle breaths and sexy moans.
My mind is drawing on all my available senses combining them and etching Rose on my fucking soul as she rides me.
With every breath, every touch, every moan and every intake of her beautiful scent she begins to form in the dark. She isn’t a ghost or an apparition, she’s human and real and alive.
“Whenever you feel as though the world is closing in,” Rose pants as her hips move in a steady rhythm. “Whenever you feel the need to numb the pain, come to the pitch black with me, Anton. I’ll remind you every single time that this is where we belong, right here within the darkness together. We’re just swathes of smoke twining around one another, coming to life in each other’s arms.”
“Rose…” my voice cracks with everything I can’t say.
How does she know, how could she possibly know? She squeezes my hands then lowers her mouth to mine, I feel the hard points of her nipples brush against my bare chest.
“You don’t need colour to feel complete, you only need one thing,” she murmurs against my lips.
“What’s that?” I respond on a groan as she hovers over me.
“The ability to see and you already have that gift, Anton. Embrace it.”
Her mouth covers mine as she squeezes her internal muscles, milking my cock, and as I feel our mutual orgasm building, Rose appears before me out of the darkness like a million stars shattering in the pitch black of night.
Chapter Thirty
Rose
“ROSE! ROSE!”
Fists bang on the door waking Anton and I from sleep.
“Ivan?” I say, sitting up, immediately awake.
Anton groans, his hands still clutching my hip. “Shit, this isn’t going to go down well,” he says through a sleep laden voice.
“Open the fucking door, Anton, or so help me!” Ivan shouts.
The door rattles in its frame as Ivan throws himself against it.
“You’d better let him in before he hurts himself,” I say, untangling myself from Anton’s body.
“I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!” he roars.
The door frame splinters as Ivan comes crashing through the door. It flies open, slamming against the wall, sending in a shaft of light that’s blinding. I hold my hands up, shielding my eyes. We’ve been here together in the dark for the last two days.
Talking, holding onto one another, fucking…
And now it’s over.
I hope it’s been enough.
Anton squeezes my hand then leaps out of bed, holding his hands up, trying to placate.
“Ivan, Rose is…”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because in three strides, Ivan has him by the throat and has thrown a punch. Anton’s head snaps back from the impact, but he doesn’t fight back.
“Ivan, no!” I scream.
Standing, I grab Ivan’s arm, but he doesn’t see. In his blind rage he doesn’t see me at all. He twists away from me, his other hand tightening around Anton’s neck. He’s going to fucking kill him, just like he promised.
“IVAN STOP IT!” I scream, pummelling my fist against his back, but he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t see.
“You locked her away, you fucking locked her away, Anton!” His voice cracks beneath the anger. His love for his brother, and brutal disappointment showing.
“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want. Ivan, listen to me goddamn it! Let Anton go, let me explain,” I implore, tugging at his arms.
Ivan turns to me, his eyes widening.
“Please, Ivan.”
He releases Anton, who takes in deep gasping breaths. I step between them, cupping Anton’s face in my hands. “Breathe,” I order.
The colour slowly returns to his skin as he draws in oxygen. Anton places his hands over mine and pulls them from his cheeks, nodding over my shoulder.
“Go to him,” Anton says, sadness darkening the light in his eyes.
“You okay?”
“I am, Ivan isn’t.”
I kiss him tenderly, the remnants of being alone in this room still lingering. The cold light of day having no impact. It surprises Anton as much as it surprises me.
Turning around, I find Ivan staring at us both. He looks haggard, exhausted. Completely and utterly spent. His clothes are rumpled, his chest heaving. He has a dark stubble and bags under his eyes. I don’t think he’s slept in days.
“Ivan, I’m sorry,” I begin.
“You didn’t call. I asked one thing, one thing from you, Rose. You didn’t fucking call!” He scrapes a hand through his hair, glaring at me. I let it go. I’ve no right to try and rule his anger now, not when it’s justified. He’s right to be angry. I was thoughtless.
“You said you were coming home…” I respond feebly. The truth is, I was too wrapped up in Anton that I didn’t think. “Christ, Ivan. I’m so sorry.”
He lowers his eyes as I approach him, his body tensing.
“No, look at me,” I say gently, nudging his chin upwards with my finger. His nostrils flare as he meets my gaze. He’s hurt. I hurt him. That cuts deep.
“I’m sorry.”
And this time I don’t just mean for not calling him. I’m sorry for parting the way we did. I didn’t know how to deal with his love. I hadn’t asked for it, didn’t want it, but I care enough about Ivan t
o know that I was a bitch for pushing him away. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt lying here in the darkness with Anton is that there’s more to our lives than the broken shards of our past. That there is a possibility for more than what we believe we deserve.
I chose these men.
I’ve accepted them for who they are, and they’ve accepted me, the least I can do is not push them away.
“I’ve been going out of my mind, Rose. Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
He wobbles on his feet, wanting to come to me. Needing me.
“Ivan,” I say, holding my arms open.
He walks into them, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he wraps his arms around me engulfing me in his hold. His fingers bite into my skin, but I don’t care. I cling onto him as much as he clings onto me. Today he smells like the fresh sea air, familiar and strangely comforting given the memories I hold.
“I’ve missed you too,” I admit quietly.
Ivan holds me tighter, releasing a long breath.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch Anton get dressed. He pulls on his jeans and t-shirt, socks and shoes, then rests his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands for just a moment. He’s never been jealous of me and Ivan, his distress isn’t about that.
It’s about the ill feeling between him and his best friend. These men are my responsibility and I’m driving a wedge between them.
“Anton, come here,” I implore, holding my arm out to him. I’m very aware that I’m completely naked still.
But I don’t care. This is who I am, this is me in all my nakedness.
Anton stands, Ivan’s handprints a bright red mark around his neck. He approaches us warily, his eyes flicking between us both.
I pull back gently, stepping out of Ivan’s arms, looking at the two men I’ve grown close to. Impossible as it seems, they’re irrevocably mine now and that feels good.
“Anton didn’t hurt me, Ivan. I was strong enough, and so was he.”
Ivan looks at his brother, a muscle feathering in his jaw.
“Then why are you locked in this fucking room?”
“That’s between us, Ivan. Anton has never questioned our relationship. Just trust me when I say, he hasn’t hurt me. I chose to be in here with him. Just like I chose to be with you. Can you accept that?”
Ivan nods his head once, glancing at Anton briefly before turning back to me. He kneels before me, dropping his head, feeling secure in his submission. Needing to know that things are still okay between us this way.
“We’ll figure this out together. Please know that when you’re alone with me, it’s only us, just like it’s always been. Do you understand, Ivan?” He nods his head, but it’s not enough. “Look at me, Ivan. I need to see the conviction in your eyes.”
He looks up and I draw in a startled breath. My first instinct is to run, my demon snapping at the love she sees in his eyes.
But I don’t run.
I refuse to be afraid.
I can make no promises to love him back, but I can promise not to push him away again. Too much has passed between us.
“I understand. I trust you,” he says.
“I know you do,” I respond quietly.
Pressing my fingers gently on his shoulder indicating he can stand, Ivan gets up. I pull him in for a kiss, needing that confirmation of our connection as much as he does. I only intended for it to be quick, but as his arms circle my waist, the familiarity of his lips, his touch and his taste filling my senses, I can’t help but lean into him allowing myself this moment of bliss. Inside my demon becomes restless, but for the first time in a long, long time, I tell her to quieten, allowing myself this tiniest sliver of his affection, love. It settles inside me, unfamiliar, strange, frightening but there nonetheless. I can’t help but think that
spending the last two days here in the dark with Anton has something to do with that.
Eventually, reluctantly, I break the kiss.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Ivan says, holding his hand out for Anton to shake.
Anton’s shoulders drop, the tension he’s been holding released. A smile spreads across his face as he takes Ivan’s hand and pulls him in for a hug. “Apology accepted.”
Relief floods through me. “Well, now that’s sorted, I’ll be needing my clothes.”
Ivan lifts his lips in a half smile. “As much as I wish you’d stay naked, there’s a certain man we need to deal with. I’m guessing the old bastard is still here?” Ivan asks Anton as I gather my clothes, pulling them on.
“Not unless Ms Hadley disobeyed me and let him stay.”
“Have you seen her since you arrived?” I ask Ivan.
“No. My first thought was you, Rose. Then it was Anton,” he looks grimly at us both. “I got your text, but I’m guessing you never read mine? If you had, you would’ve stayed away from Browlace and that man.”
“I take it you’re not a fan of Viktor?” I pull on my jumper, wishing I had the foresight to bring a change of clothes.
“No. He and I haven’t seen eye to eye for a number of years now,” Ivan explains, glancing at Anton. I don’t miss the silent message between them. There’s more to this than either are willing to explain right now.
“And Erik?”
“Erik tolerates him because of his mother, because he believes he owes him.” Anton sighs, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He bends over grabbing his woolly hat from the floor and shoves it on his head. It’s like his comfort blanket.
“Owes him?”
“Yes. My father paid for his education, his violin lessons. He put him through private school, university. None of that comes for free, not with my father.”
“I see. But Ms Hadley brought your father here because of me. She can’t stand that I’ve come into your lives. Why?”
“It’s complicated,” Ivan says.
“Then I guess you’d better start explaining,” I retort, folding my arms stubbornly across my chest. “I want the truth.”
Anton walks over to me, takes my hand and presses a gentle kiss against my palm before rubbing his thumb over it. “Let’s get rid of my father first.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to chuck that bastard out on his arse,” Ivan snarls, striding past us both. We follow him, Anton still holding my hand.
It takes no more than ten minutes to look in all the usual places, but neither Ms Hadley nor Viktor are anywhere to be found. The last place left is Erik’s wing. So, I follow Anton and Ivan back along the galleried hallway. It’s eerily quiet, and as we walk together I notice that a lot of the paintings have been pushed out of place and several are on the floor, some have even been trampled on. My throat constricts, anger bubbling. This wasn’t Anton, this was someone else, and I’m betting it’s that bastard who calls himself Anton’s father.
“Viktor,” Ivan snaps, confirming what I already know to be true.
Anton just grits his teeth. His anger held inside. I reach for the nearest painting and adjust it so it’s sitting straight on the wall. Then pick up another that’s been knocked off, hanging it back up.
“What the fuck is that man’s problem?” I ask, fuming. It’s a rhetorical question, I don’t expect an answer. I don’t get one either as Ivan and Anton step into Erik’s room. I walk in behind them, careful to keep my gaze averted.
“Fuck!” Ivan exclaims.
My head snaps up. The door to his glass cage is open.
Erik is gone.
“Where is he?” Anton asks, striding across to the other side of the room. He pushes open a door in the far corner, disappearing inside. Half a minute later he returns. “He’s not in the other rooms either.”
I look between the two men, both drain of colour. “What? What is it!?” I demand.
Ivan walks around the glass cage and enters the open door, striding to the bed. He picks up a sheet of paper.
“What is it? What does it say?” Anton asks, jogging over to him.
Ivan meets him at the door, handing him the
note. He doesn’t say a word, just waits for Anton to read it.
“No! No, no, no!” Anton cries, panic filtering into his voice.
“What’s going on? Where’s Erik? What does the note say?” The questions tumble out of my mouth in a rush, whilst a sense of foreboding scatters over my skin.
Ivan puts his arm around Anton’s shoulder guiding him towards me. The fear in Anton’s eyes has my heart stopping. Ivan looks at me grimly, but I see his own fear bubbling under the surface.
“Tell me!” I insist, hating this.
Anton silently hands me the note.
“Out beyond wrongdoings and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” – Rumi.
“What does it mean?” I look between them. My pulse kicking up a notch.
“She’s taken him back there. Why would she do that?” Anton mutters. He stumbles and I have to steady him. He’s trembling so much, his teeth begin to chatter.
“Back where? What are you talking about?” I glance at Ivan, his eyes have a faraway look about them.
“Ivan?”
He scrapes a hand through his hair, looking at me with horror in his eyes. “She’s taken him home, Rose.”
“This is his home.”
“No. She’s taken him back to his childhood home in Orkney,” Ivan explains.
“What?!”
“FUCK! This was never about me. This was always about him! Why didn’t I see? Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Anton shouts. He grabs me by the shoulders, squeezing tightly. “He won’t survive it there.”
“Anton, please, calm down. Explain this to me so I can understand.”
He lets go of me suddenly, striding over to the window. I look at Ivan helplessly.
“When Ms Hadley started working for Viktor, Erik was five. He was already a gifted violinist, extremely bright. Viktor doted on him.” Ivan’s gaze flicks to Anton. “He treated Erik like his own son, he loved him as much, more.” I get the point Ivan is trying to make. Viktor loved Erik more than he did Anton, his own flesh and blood.