Absorbing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “What do you want from him, Pascal?”

  There’s a pause long enough to eclipse the sun as he pulls up in front of the portico and stares at the steering wheel, those green eyes of his almost dull for some reason. Time keeps ticking by as he just breathes and taps his fingers along the rounded leather. Eventually, he leans back and tips his head in my direction.

  “I never contemplated this, Elizabeth. I was ready to leave the two of you and was as surprised by this revelation as you. I am not sure what I expect from him, nor what it is that I require of him. However, you should know this: whatever he requires of me will be given, whether you wish to see it or not. He has my collar now, and therefore my obedience. You, my dear, have neither to argue with.” Not happy about that little line at all, my eyes narrow at him. He just gets out of the car and keeps his exquisitely serious face firmly in place. “Now, are you ready to go in?”

  Stepping out of the car, I find myself staring at those red doors, wondering what will become of us in this strange harmony of three. Will we live together, with each other? Or just Alex, and I? Will we open our hearts to each other? What will children mean to us? How do we all make this normal, comfortable even? I haven’t even had sex with the man but I know it’s coming. I know this will be part of our relationship now. Fingers lace with mine as I stare and wonder, but something about all this still feels so right, so easy, in a very random way.

  “Where is that fucking servant man he insists upon?” He sneers beside me. I swing around to see a grumpy looking frown glaring at the door as if he might have to do the extraordinary and actually open it himself. One step forward with my keys and I’m opening the door to my home, the one I’ll be moving into at some point.

  “You have his key?” he says.

  “I have his soul, why would I not have his key?” Twin smirks smile at each other for a second or two as we both remember his apartment when he came for me.

  “Do you wish I had taken you that night, my rose? Hmm? Wish I’d have forced myself on you and moved this along a little quicker?”

  “Why would I want that? I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of the tease, would I?” I respond as my foot hits the floor and I smell the house for the first time in a while. Evocative, heady visions and thoughts course across me as I hear the ticking of the clock and smell the familiar wood furniture. Lilies adorn the tables and the Christmas tree hits me square in the face as I look up at it and feel a little teary at its magnificence. Every colour under the sun is reflected in baubles twinkling in the low light of the hallway, lamps dimly illuminating the corners and highlighting all the architraves and pictures. The deep burgundy reminds me of his warmth as it stretches along towards the kitchen, past the study – his touch, his love. Home. Christmas at home. Where is he?

  Dropping my keys on the hall table, I move towards the lounge before I know it. Regardless of my earlier irritation, I seem to have no ability to stop myself wanting to be in his arms again. All of a sudden, I need to be with him again, need to spend the night with him, need to have him inside me to remind myself of his touch, his hands made for butchery, for my butchery. Shivers course through me at the thought so I quicken my pace to find him.

  I’m met with an incredibly amused Alex, sitting there chuckling about something as he stares at the front of a wingback chair. I can see nothing but a pair of unfairly beautiful legs and high heels. His head lifts at my rushed entrance and I’m greeted with him standing and holding out a hand for me. The cool blue of his shirt flawlessly matches the colour of his eyes, and his forearms stretch out to me as if commanding me to him with no other option than to go. One look at his mouth and I know I’m home, because that beautifully wicked smile has me thinking all sorts of things about his lips. But more than that is the heat that travels straight to my heart at the look in his eyes. It almost burns as it moves through my skin and pulls me to him, guiding me towards the love that keeps me with him, or stops me from running from him, and I know it all now, don’t I? There’s nothing left to fear.

  “Did he behave?” he murmurs into my ear as he twirls me in closely and kisses my throat. His throat.

  “He did,” I reply, revelling in his touch, wanting more almost instantly. Those hands grip slightly and knead flesh in all the right places. So much so that I almost forget the other woman sitting in the room until she coughs a little. I’d know her voice anywhere. Evelyn? Interesting. I turn around in his hold to find her holding a pawn in her fingers and smiling quietly, still looking every bit the modern business woman with her perfectly made-up hair and her perfectly pressed dress. I so want to straighten my clothes, but I hold it together and keep my eyes fixed in defiance. I am strong. I am in control.

  “Evelyn’s learning to play chess, or learning to manipulate her life as your father would say.” He chuckles behind me as he lets me go and wanders off. Ooh, something I might be able to beat her at. I’m definitely in control. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Coffee, please,” I reply as I sit in his chair and gaze across at her. Pascal walks off after Alex and I’m left here looking at her.

  “Elizabeth,” she says.

  “Evelyn, how are you?”

  “Well, thank you. I assume you’re okay now after your rapid exit from the charity ball?”

  “Yes, fine, thank you.” I can feel the questions in her stare. Does she think I’m going to talk about it? I hope not. I’ve already dropped myself in it once with Pascal. I’m not about to do it again.

  “So, you don’t play?” I ask as I scan the board. It’s very simply laid out, as if it’s been completely restarted so I pick up a white pawn and move forward two.

  “No, Alex was just showing me the rules of engagement. It seems quite simple.” There is nothing simple about any rules of engagement where Alex is concerned – chess, underground sex auctions, or real life included.

  “It gets more complicated the further into it you get. You need to learn to play at least six moves in front of yourself, and be ready to be knocked off course at any given moment.” I could be talking about my own bloody life to be honest, certainly Alex’s. I stare at the board and listen to my own words ringing in my head – six moves in front, more complicated the further you get, knocked off course at any given moment. It is my bloody life, well, now anyway, full of twist and turns, full of new problems to deal with, full of struggles and complications, but hopefully not anymore. Hopefully, this will all just slot in together and be fine now. If nothing else, it all proves how flexible I’ve become at dealing with him, how he’s made me feel his world and understand how confused he’s been in it, how he’s taught me to play the game when necessary and learn those rules so that I can see him for what he is. He must close down emotion simply to make life easier for himself so that his brain has a chance to relax and be normal – his blissful idea of normal anyway. Is that where he wants to go with Pascal and I? Is that where he normally goes with Pascal alone, to that dark place inside where he can simply close the door and just be? Find his peace?

  “Elizabeth?” Something’s making a noise. “Elizabeth, are you okay?” What? Oh, Evelyn, yes. I look back up at her to find that brow raised, just as Alex’s would be. I snort out a giggle and lean back into the chair.

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about something and I got a little distracted. It’s your move.”

  “It is not,” Pascal says as he strides back into the room with a long grey coat over his arm. “It is time for the sister to go home. It appears I have become the fucking driver. Come, up you get,” he snaps at her. She glares in response and gently sips at her drink. She really would be quite good for him. She’s got Roxanne written all over her with her perfection, although I’m pretty sure she’s not bat shit crazy, thankfully.

  “Evelyn, you should go home now.” Alex’s voice comes drifting across my shoulder firmly. I’m swooning instantly. It’s that tone of voice that makes my thighs clench, velvety, with just a pinch of that sadistic preference I can hear now. I�
�m here, and he wants her gone, Pascal, too by the sound of it. His hand suddenly lands on my collarbone as he stands behind me and I shudder at the small amount of pressure he uses to let me know what he wants – me, and a house free of distractions.

  Pascal holds the coat up with a sneer. He probably thinks the material isn’t good enough for him to hold or something. Evelyn just stares at all of us as if she has no clue what is happening. Thank fuck I do for once in my life. For once, I understand perfectly, and I’m suddenly very ready for it.

  I rise up from my chair in the hope that it will get her backside moving. Thankfully, she gets up, too, and places her drink down.

  “It’s been amusing, brother,” she says as Pascal puts her coat on her, ever the gentleman regardless of his clear infuriation.

  “We shall do it again soon, Evelyn,” he replies as we head out of the lounge and cross towards the door. He stops by a chest in the hall and opens it, then draws out a large wooden box and passes it to her. “Chess needs to be practised often. Use it daily with the app I showed you. You’ll have some sort of chance the next time we meet.” Sweet. Let’s teach the sister how to be better at manipulating the world, too. Oh, aren’t we a family full of deviants.

  Pascal opens the door and marches through it to the car, barely containing the foreign language that’s now pouring from his lips. Irritated grumblings carry on as the car revs beyond comprehension and Evelyn looks across at it.

  “Is he safe in that?” she asks.

  “He will be with you,” Alex replies while holding the door for her. “He’s been warned.” Oh, I bet he has, and I dare say not just about the driving.

  “Okay,” she says as she steps out into the night and makes her way down the stairs. “Apart from the kidnapping, it’s been quite lovely. Thank you.” I narrow my eyes at the words. Has he been abducting her, too? Try as I might, I still can’t work out how sincere that voice is. Something just doesn’t sound right about it.

  “Goodnight, Evelyn,” I say as I watch her slide into the car. She turns and waves a little, that side of her mouth lifting, yes, just like Alex’s.

  “Good night,” she replies.

  The car door shuts and we both stand there watching the car race off up the drive.

  “You don’t trust her, do you?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I want to, but something’s not quite right.” He chuckles and I hear him retreating back into the house behind me. I keep staring at the taillights until they eventually go out of view. I have no clue who that woman really is, and I don’t like her anywhere near Alex or Pascal. I don’t suppose I should be overly concerned, but I just can’t put my finger on what’s irritating me about her. Maybe it’s just past experience and nothing to worry about at all. I mean, who would want to piss Alex off? Especially someone who’s a relative newbie in London who works for Conner? No, it’ll be fine. I’m sure of it. No problem whatsoever.

  Chapter 16

  Elizabeth

  O h, shit, my ingredients!

  They’re in the bloody car, and no amount of me waving my arms around is going to make Pascal turn the around, so I don’t even bother. I just stand here, staring at the dust kicking up off the gravel as the red lights dim into the distance. I just wanted to bake a damn cake, for God’s sake.

  I turn and walk back into the house to find him standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me as if he’s about to pounce, and even if I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t have a chance of running. Whatever it is that’s going through his mind, I’m about to find out.

  “Take your clothes off,” he says, those cool blues now darkening a little. It’s a quiet demand. He doesn’t need to say it harshly or aggressively anymore because I want to, and he knows it. Toeing my shoes off, I pull my t-shirt up over my head and begin to unbutton my jeans. My fumbling fingers can’t seem to get them down my thighs quick enough as I yank at them in irritation. Elegant undressing this is not, and I couldn’t give a shit in this moment because I need him to remind me, to find me again. Finally, after much shuffling, I’m standing in the middle of the hall in nothing but my underwear. He raises a brow at me, and stares for a moment. “All of them.” Oh, okay. Another bout of shuffling and I’m absolutely naked, and not in the least bit nervous about it as I stand, watching him watching me.

  “Down,” he says, so I do immediately. Knees slightly apart, just wide enough for his shoes, head gently dipped, just low enough to submit, just low enough that he’ll be happy. Whatever I’m entering into with Pascal and him, it seems there are rules that need to be followed. What the hell they are, I have no idea. His feet walk over to me and then around the back of me. One finger draws up the length of my spine and has me moaning in pleasure at the feel of it. There’s just the right amount of pressure to cause me to flinch away from him, and just the exact amount of tension needed for my core to begin that ache. “Seems you’ve missed me.”

  Much as I might hate to admit it, I have, desperately. I’ve missed this connection. All the drama, of his making I might add, has stretched us apart, caused a line between us that I don’t want there anymore. I want to feel him on my skin again, in me, all over me.

  “You caused the missing you,” I say quietly, still keeping my eyes on the floor.

  “Mmm,” he muses as he comes around in front of me again. “But you understand now, don’t you? You’re here with all your information, so there’s no reason to have anything between us anymore, is there?” I smile at the thought that he can read my mind so well. It’s testament to how much he can feel me, too, how well he comprehends what goes on in my mind.

  “We do still need to talk, though.” We do, after this maybe, but we definitely still do.

  He’s silent for a while, and I just stay here beneath him, trying to stop some strange sense of need wanting to shuffle me closer to him and close the gap. His shirt falls to the floor by my knees, and I just halt myself from looking up at him. I haven’t seen him naked for days, haven’t felt the heat of him on me, or the weight of him. Tense minutes fumbling in that room while Pascal dealt with Roxanne were nowhere near enough to satisfy the craving I have for him now. I’m almost giddy with excitement at the thought of his fingers handling me again, almost lost in a closing mist of readiness waiting for him.

  “Get up off the floor,” he says as a hand comes down in front of me. I look up, slightly confused, and find him smiling at me, a twinkle of amusement in those deep blue eyes. “You’ll take what you’re given, baby, but you don’t have to be down there for it, not now.” I’m really not sure what that means, but I’m happy to oblige, I think.

  I slip my hand into his, and lightening-quick, he’s lifted me up and is walking us backwards to the hall wall. The shock of the impact against my back has me wheezing out a breath and groaning at the thought as his mouth assaults mine. Our tongues tangle in an insistent onslaught of moaning and growling as teeth nip into flesh and cause my legs to tighten in anticipation of what’s coming. His hand roughly kneads at my backside as he grinds into me and pushes me harder against the cold of the plaster. Fingers grasp and I wrench my mouth away to pant out a breath as his mouth finds my throat, his throat, and he can take it, he can take it all.

  “Fuck, I missed you,” he grates out as his weight increases into me, grabbing and grasping onto my leg and picking me up off the wall again. Within seconds, I’m on the bottom step of the stairs and he’s all over me. I’m desperately tugging at his clothes as I try to scrape his jeans down his legs so that he can get at me, in me, but I can’t get enough purchase to do anything at all. His muscles grind against me roughly, and hot breath pushes any form of rationality out of my mind as he rubs into me with that expert pressure. His hand is suddenly around my throat, so I suck in air before he squeezes it tighter and let him push my head down onto the step behind me. He rises up slowly and towers over me with a smile, such a wicked smile, and as his other hand tugs at his belt and fly, his knees push my thighs wider. I’
d look at what his hands are doing, but those eyes of his are nearly black now, so consuming, so dark in their intense stare. Is he still here with me?

  His fingers tighten around my throat as he sneers a little and lowers his head to my stomach. There’s no fun in this. This isn’t a happy reunion. No, this is him reaffirming us, perhaps reaffirming him, to me. I gasp out in pain as his teeth find my inner thigh, then moan almost deliriously around the feel of it as he hooks my knee over his shoulder and growls. My core coils tighter as he moves his mouth to the other side and does it again, fiercer this time and with no restraint at all. My body relaxes into it as if this is normal. It is normal, perfectly normal for us, and the immediate release of tension as his mouth lowers again is almost euphoric. I still for seconds, waiting to feel his mouth on me, waiting to feel his tongue swirling inside and sucking on that place I need him to be. He hovers. He knows exactly what I’m craving and he just hovers there, prolonging the ache and causing more of it. I can feel him breathing on me, blowing air across me and teasing me. My back arches into him in the hope of spurring him on. He just pushes down on my groin to hold me still and pulls his head away slightly.

  “Greedy,” he mumbles. He’s fucking right. I am, for him. One soft swipe of his tongue and I feel like I’m coming apart, writhing and bucking hoping to stretch the moment out somehow. He touches me, just one finger poised at my entrance, and I try desperately to grind down onto it, anything to get him inside of me because this ache is becoming unbearable. My back grates on the stairs as he just holds my throat still and gently circles. Small, soft licks of pressure tease my walls until he dips his head again and sucks. Oh, god, I’m not going to last ten seconds. My legs try to clamp onto something, anything, but he won’t give me anything apart from his shoulder, so I end up lifting my whole body from the ground until I’m held by my throat and arched across him. He sucks harder, and holds my backside up to his mouth so I can’t get away from him, and then increases his sucking and lapping as he hooks my other leg over his shoulder, too. His tongue swirls and teeth bite into me as I continue to moan around every movement and flick, and I can’t breathe. I can’t get any air. I pant like a dog in the hope that I’ll get some, all the time trying to stave off the inevitable explosion that‘s coming so I can revel in this build up more. My skin is on fire, every muscle taut with energy, ready to detonate and bring me those fucking stars I’m halting. His mouth suddenly stops and that powerful hand moves its grip on my throat around to the back of my neck. What’s he doing? With one lift, he’s got me against the wall again, this time with me sitting on his shoulders with nowhere to go at all. His hands pin my arms back to hold me in place, literally pinned by his mouth and his butchering fingers. He uses such force as his tongue swipes at me again, and again, and again, teeth biting, tongue dipping quickly. I try to grab onto the wall for balance, but as my orgasm begins to take hold, I can do nothing more than let it take me and hope he can hold me up. Stars flicker, then light behind my eyelids as his name comes screaming from my mouth. I’m panting, swearing and grinding myself into him in a blatant display of adoration for his mouth – a deviant mouth, my fucking mouth. Coiling and tensing as he continues to suck me dry and draws his nose along me. I can’t move anymore. There’s nothing left in me. If he let go, I’d fall flat on my arse, but he won’t let go, will he? I just hang there on him, almost suspended by him somehow and realise that I am his property. I simply am his, completely.