by Bea Paige
“Well, now. You next, Miss,” Douglas says, opening the next door along the hallway. He leans inside, flicking on a light switch.
Inside is a pretty room with a surprisingly large bed. It’s decorated with chintzy décor, which isn’t exactly to my taste, but it looks comfortable enough. I can deal with flowery wallpaper for a few nights. Ivan raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but thoughtful enough not to comment. He hands me my bag.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping into the room and finding my feet sinking into the thick, pale pink carpet.
Douglas points to a door in the far corner of the room. “There’s a connecting bathroom between this room and the next along. If you don’t want to be interrupted whilst in the bath, I suggest you lock the door,” he says, with a devilish grin.
I look over my shoulder, my cheeks warming. “I’ll bear that in mind. But honestly, I just need to sleep.”
“Aye, you look beat. Breakfast is usually at eight but I’m happy to start it at nine if that suits?”
“That would be great, thank you.”
Douglas nods, before retreating, leaving me looking up at Ivan. His dark eyes survey me. I’m pretty certain there are things he wishes to say, but given Douglas is hovering, doesn’t.
“Sleep well, Rose.”
“You too,” I respond, turning away from Ivan’s intense stare, then head on over to the bed and sit down heavily.
Outside, the lights from the harbour wink at me, taunting me with their beauty. Reminding me of Mousehole Harbour and the remains of Cerulean Blue that rots there. I used to love the sea and the endless possibilities it represented. Not anymore.
Ever since setting foot on the island I’ve felt off.
Why do I feel so wrung out? On edge?
Because of Erik. Because there are two men in rooms either side of you that you want to lose yourself with. Because for the first time in forever you let a shard of love in…
My fingers curl into the bedspread and I look at my white knuckles, fighting to regain control of this feeling inside. It’s unfamiliar, frightening. I’m so fucking scared.
You’re scared because… maybe…
“Stop!” I say loudly.
My mouth slams shut. I can’t do this right now, I need sleep. I’ll feel stronger in the morning, and once we find Erik and get him back home to Browlace, maybe then I can try to unravel the churning feeling in my stomach and the tightness in my chest that I can’t seem to shake.
Breathing out a long steady breath, I remove my coat and shoes placing them on the chair in the corner of the room. Slowly, I ease out of my jeans and jumper, wincing at the sharp pain in my hips and lower back. The journey here, though comfortable given that Ivan spared no expense, has wreaked havoc on my body.
Maybe a bath is a good idea after all.
Walking into the bathroom, I turn on the taps, eying the door to Ivan’s room.
I don’t lock it.
Instead, I perch on the edge of the bath waiting for it to fill. As soon as the water hits my preferred level, I remove my underwear and step into the bath, sliding under the surface with a groan. God, it feels good.
Closing my eyes, I relax into the warmth and allow my mind the freedom to wander. I’m not surprised that my first thoughts are of the men of Browlace Manor. How could it be anything else given they consume me as much as I appear to consume them?
Ivan and his stormy eyes… I’ll never forget the look on his face when he held the knife against his skin and cut himself. His pain, his guilt and despair were so raw, so utterly breathtaking. Most people would’ve been horrified to see him harm himself.
I wasn’t.
I’d seen someone whose pain was real. I’d seen someone who, in that moment, hurt more than me and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel so alone. As fucked up as that is, it’s the truth. That night I’d claimed him as my own without fully comprehending what I’d done. His love wasn’t something I’d wanted or needed then…
And now?
Now, a small piece sits inside my chest. Even my demon has gotten used to it. She might be giving it a wide berth, but she hasn’t forced it away, and neither have I. He accepted me for who I am and in return I’ve accepted him.
The memory of that night, and those that followed make way for Anton and his studio full of colours… He’s still a mystery in so many ways, and even though I know about Amber I still feel as though there is so much more to uncover about him. I’d reached into his darkness and made it my own. We’d wrapped ourselves in each other’s pain and somehow found peace there. I may not have brought colour into his life like he’d wanted, but together we’d dived into the pitch black and survived. I can only hope it’s enough for us both.
Hope?
Where is Erik’s hope? A man who believes he can only live a life behind glass walls. Always looking out, whilst everyone else looks in. Trapped.
He's trapped.
I groan loudly, feeling his pain as though it’s my own. His bitch of a mother has a lot to answer for, perpetuating his need to remain locked away rather than finding a way to release him from the memories that keep him there.
“Rose?” I hear a light tap on the door. It’s Ivan.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. I knew that I didn’t want him to, given the door remains unlocked.
“Can I come in?” he asks, uncertainty clouding his voice.
“Yes,” I respond.
I want to see him. I’ve missed him, that’s another truth. It’s been too long since we’ve been together. Ivan hovers in the doorway, eying me with undisguised lust and trepidation.
My demon snaps awake, ready to be his Domina once again.
Chapter 2
Erik – Present Day
I can hear my mother talking to someone in the kitchen below. An old farmhouse with no carpet and thin walls means nothing is secret. It’s Tim, one of the workers who’s currently putting together my glass room in the outhouse. She deflects his questions with no nonsense answers.
“... I suggest you stop asking questions if you mean to keep this job,” she remarks, when Tim questions her what the room is going to be used for.
“It must be finished by midnight tonight, that was our agreement…”
“No excuses. You said you could deliver; we are paying good money for a speedy build…”
Who are we? Viktor perhaps? I guess that’s the most likely person. I’m pretty sure neither Anton nor Ivan would be agreeable to this given they were none too keen about the idea at Browlace. Besides, they know how I feel about Kirkwall. They know that I wouldn’t come back here unless it was a matter of extreme importance. The fact is, Rose has become too integral to their healing for me to ruin it with my violent tendencies. I love them enough to give them a chance at happiness, and despite my own wants, I’m not selfish enough to ruin it for them.
I sit on the hardwood floor straining to hear more. The distraction is better than my own thoughts and the memories that have been plaguing both my waking moments and my sleep.
“I don’t care that your men are tired. You’ve had enough time to plan and execute this build. Deliver or don’t get paid, it’s as simple as that…”
Enough time? We only arrived yesterday, how the fuck is that possible? My back stiffens as I push against the wall straining to hear more.
“Over a week now,” she continues.
Unless…
Of course. Mother went missing for almost a week whilst Ivan was away in Moscow and Anton was out of it on heroin. When she brought Viktor back to Browlace, I’d assumed that’s where she’d been. But now I understand. She’d come back here to get my glass room built.
The fact that it didn’t take much to persuade me to return to Kirkwall had made it easy for her. I wonder, briefly, how long she’s been planning our return. Much longer than a week I imagine.
Then I realise, it doesn’t fucking matter.
I want in that glass room as much as she wants to put me in
there.
And she knows it.
Chapter 3
Rose – Present Day
“Ivan, I said come in,” I repeat, sterner this time.
“Yes…?”
“Domina,” I remind him. Though I know his unspoken question is more to do with the fact that he’s checking if I still want to dominate him, rather than he’s forgotten how to address me.
“Yes, Domina.” A small smile pulls up the corner of his lips.
He’s changed into a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a loose t-shirt. His hair is rumpled, and he looks beyond exhausted, but there’s a fire in his eyes despite it all.
Inside my demon paces restlessly. Ready, willing, wanting Ivan’s submission as much as he wants my dominance. She’s held back these past couple of weeks with Anton, and now she needs release, just like Ivan does.
“Get in,” I demand, Domina taking over now.
Ivan doesn’t hesitate. He rips off his t-shirt, revealing his defined pecs and abs, and the light dusting of hair across his chest, then pulls off his tracksuit bottoms.
He's already hard. His thick length is beautiful and brazen, and mine. I own every part of him, including his heart, it would seem.
Shifting forward in the bath, I give him room to slide in behind me. He settles back, his muscular legs either side of mine. He doesn’t try to touch me or pull me back against him. Ivan simply waits. Needing my command as much as I want to give it to him.
“Wash me,” I say eventually.
“Yes, Domina,” he responds, his voice full of longing and desire. The deep timber of his voice an aphrodisiac all on its own.
Leaning forward he grabs some shower gel, which smells of patchouli and blossom -a nice touch for an old man who looks more like a sailor than a hotelier- and starts to rub it onto my shoulders. I shift backwards a little and am rewarded with the hard length of his cock resting against my lower back. He’s gentle, but gentle isn’t what I want right now.
I want to feel… more.
“Harder,” I bite out.
“Domina?” he questions.
“Firmer,” I correct myself, knowing that Ivan likes to receive pain, but doesn’t want to dish it out. That’s who he was, not who he is now. He obliges, his strong fingers massaging my aching muscles and working out all the knots I’ve gathered on the journey here. For long minutes he soothes me with his touch, unravelling the stress I’ve held in my body worrying about Erik, about them all. I let out a low moan, rolling my head forward as his fingers work on the small knots in my neck and in the base of my skull. My eyes roll back in my head when his fingers work their way into my hair. I melt under his touch. When I’ve had my fill, my body relaxed and my head swimming full of wicked thoughts, I turn in the bath to face him.
“Make me come and I will give you what you crave, Ivan,” I say, realising too late how that sounds.
He drags in a laboured sigh, but keeps his eyes lowered and his mouth firmly shut.
“Look at me, speak,” I order, though not unkindly.
Just because I command an answer, doesn’t mean I should be cruel. That is not what our relationship is about. There’s mutual respect and understanding. I refuse to step over the boundaries we’ve agreed upon. I won’t hurt him again like I did, no matter how much he says he can take it.
We both know he endured for me… like I did for him.
He raises his gaze to meet mine and my fingers grip onto his thighs at the adoration I see in them. I don’t look too deeply. I can’t repeat what happened in his room before he left for Moscow. I won’t lose control like that ever again. Thank Christ, Anton had been there to hold me back. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if I had been alone with Ivan.
“There are times I wish that were true, that you could truly give me what I crave, Rose.”
“Is this not enough?” I ask, my own vulnerability showing briefly before I lock it away once more. Inside, my demon snaps at me, drawing me back.
“It’s enough. I’ve said that already. I’ll take whatever you can give,” Ivan admits, though I know it pains him to do so.
I nod tightly, wishing I could give him what he truly wants, but knowing I can’t. “Make me come, and then I’ll give you what I can.”
Ivan’s jaw ticks with the words he’s holding in, but like a good submissive he doesn’t voice them. Instead, he pours more shower gel into his palm and then cups my breasts. My mouth parts as the pad of his thumbs roll over my nipples. He spends ages massaging me just right, drawing out soft moans, then he lowers his hand beneath the water finding my parted folds and the warmth within. His fingers move expertly between my legs as his mouth finds mine. I didn’t ask him to kiss me, but I let that go because it’s what I want, what I need. He knows this.
His kiss is electric as much as his hands are. Ivan’s tongue and his fingers know my body better than I do. There is something so visceral about his touch. He submits to my wants entirely with no regard for his own needs in the moment, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I know that he’s loving me with his touch.
This time I lean into it… just a bit.
Ivan seems to sense that tiny bit of give and he grasps hold of it like a drowning man, anchoring himself to me. His arm circles my waist as he pulls me towards his lap. Unfortunately, the bath is small and makes it almost impossible for me to straddle him. I know that he desperately wants to sink his cock inside me, but though I might’ve given him permission to make me come, at no point have I said he could fuck the orgasm out of me. It’s a distinction that he knows only too well, and one at the moment he seems willing to ignore.
“Ivan,” I stutter out, losing some of the control I must have around him, always. “Ivan!” I say, more sharply this time. He loosens his hold but doesn’t let go. I force him to look at me, the three day old stubble rough beneath my fingertips.
“You know the rules. Why are you so intent on breaking them?”
His gaze flicks from my eyes to my mouth and back again. “You know why…” his voice trails off as his fingertips make languid circles on my arse. He’s pushing it, and he knows it.
“I do,” I say, understanding his need to be dominated, punished with pain and pleasure. He’s provoking my demon on purpose.
A wicked glint sparks in my eyes and I grasp his chin roughly in my fingers, squeezing tightly. His eyes light up with barely repressed hunger.
“I’m here. Your Domina is here, so make me come and I’ll make sure your whole body is covered with my mark.”
“Thank God,” he breathes out.
Guilt constricts my throat as understanding dawns. We’ve been apart for too long, he’s missed his Domina as much as he’s missed me. His needs become my priority.
“You can fuck me now, Ivan.”
“Yes, Domina.” He grins, lifting me beneath my arms and hauling us both upright. I’ve no idea how he doesn’t manage to fall over. But that thought is gone the second he has me pressed up against the vanity unit and is entering me roughly from behind. His hips slam against my arse as he rams into me, giving me what I want. Knowing this is what I need.
“Fuck me fast and hard, Ivan. I need to come,” I groan out, my hands slapping against the mirror in front of me, whilst my stomach presses into the cold edge of the sink. What I don’t say in that moment is that I need to garner some control and coming quickly will get me one step closer to dealing out the punishment he so craves. That I crave. Without that punishment, without my need to dominate and his need to submit this fucking becomes something very different.
Ivan doesn’t hesitate. He rams into me, fucking me just how I want it. His wet skin slaps against my arse as he drives himself deeper. With every thrust I feel my orgasm building, tightening within my stomach. In the mirror I catch the rawness of his desire and lust behind the misted glass. He’s so beautiful, so powerful and vulnerable all at the same time. His strong arms flex with tension as he grabs my hips, his own orgasm builds within him.
/> “That’s it, fuck me like that!” I cry out fiercely.
His cock thickens as I press back against him, wanting more, needing the connection of skin on skin, of our mutual escape. I arch my back lowering my body forward so I’m bent over the vanity unit as he fucks me from behind. My legs are shaking from the force of his thrusts. He might not be able to tell me how he feels with his words, but he sure as hell is showing me with his body as his fingers curl into my skin and releases all the pent up tension with a long groan.
“Make me come, Ivan,” I order, on the cusp of an intense orgasm that swirls inside my belly and warms every inch of my skin.
“Rose!” he roars, lost within the orgasm that overtakes his body as I tighten around him.
I follow him shortly after, my own orgasm spiralling out of control as he reaches around and presses his finger against my clit, drawing out my pleasure with every circle of his thumb.
We remain joined together, pressed up against the vanity unit until our laboured breathing becomes steady once more. Ivan’s forehead is pressed against my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my waist. I feel his strength in that hold and his complete surrender.
My heart thumps loudly, the aftermath of my own orgasm making me weak-kneed. After a minute joined together, neither of us quite wanting to let go, Ivan eventually pulls out of me. I watch in the mirror as he turns away, reaching for the washcloth folded on the side of the bath. He dips it into the bath and wets it, then on bended knee, places it between my legs and cleans me gently.
I drag in a breath, the action taking me by surprise. It’s so loving.
“Ivan,” I warn.
Afraid of the shift between us. Afraid of his… love, I stiffen. Not used to this kind of affection. Wary of it.
“I just want to take care of you, that’s all. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he responds, his hand stilling. He looks at me through the misted glass, the honesty in his stare hurting my heart because I can’t give him what he really wants, what he needs… but I can give him this. I can.