“Right,” was her answer. It wasn’t enough to give him a fucking clue where she was going with this. He supposed he could just grab her and get on with what he wanted but the need for her to offer it was so overwhelming that he felt himself tremble a little in anticipation that she might. Whatever she was doing, she was in absolute control of this moment and for some completely unknown reason, he was happy to allow it.
So he stood and waited again. She’d done it before on several occasions now, somehow sensed his feelings and let him take her where he wanted them to be. His fingers began to itch to touch that milky skin as he gazed down on that leg and followed its line up to the top of her thigh, the faintest image of lace curling seductively across her hipbone and inwards towards her pussy. Obviously his dick instantly reminded him of exactly what he needed as his thoughts began to wander to everything other than her feelings regarding his actions this evening. Fuck it, he’d deal with the aftermath later when she was more compliant, when she’d done precisely what her body and mind was created to do, just for him, when he could give her those emotions she would be after from him.
“How do you feel?” she asked in that quiet, low voice of hers. Well fuck, maybe his order of events wasn’t going to happen because there was no begging in her tone. It was a question she expected an answer to. It was clearly her way of making him uncomfortable, of getting her point across and making him vocalise it because she knew how he felt. She was the only one who ever did.
“I think you know, Elizabeth,” he replied as she stretched her other leg out and then bent and widened her knees to allow him a glimpse of his quarry. Christ, she was getting good at this negotiating shit.
“Yes, but I want you to tell me before you show me. I want you to reach inside and tear out every emotion you’ve got so I can forget how fucking angry I am with you,” she said with a sneer in her voice. She leaned forward and let her captivating but snarling face come into view, that flaming red hair tumbling over her naked breasts and highlighting every piece of perfection that she possessed.
All sorts of conflicting emotions and images rolled through his mind as he tried to connect all the dots and find what she was asking him for - the fear, the hurt, the pain, the torture and then the lust he felt as he learnt to recreate it for other uses and channel it. Her touch, then that fucking guilt that had receded over the years to almost non-existent, more fear, blood, screaming and begging, a warm embrace, her lips, her skin... He couldn’t even begin to understand how to put all the thoughts and feelings into some semblance of order so he pulled in a long breath and gazed at her delicious mouth in the hope that it would help him to find his way through the conflicting imagery.
She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, probably because she was going to help him decipher it all and then decided against it. She was becoming an expert at making him talk and tell her the truth. She seemed to have the ability to pull every string on his bow very well indeed, somehow allowing him to believe that every thought might be heard without judgement or fear of reprisal. He wished it was ordered enough for him to give it to her, but every breath was still laced with his father and how fucking awful each day had been for him while his sister had apparently revelled in love, playing happy families.
That bite of a right hook was still firmly implanted in his five year-old brain and that feeling of panic still rose as the bastard had looked down on him with a smug look of self satisfaction then dragged him toward the stairs. The bruising still littered his body, regardless of the fact that the marks left long ago, and he still had that overriding need to constantly look over his shoulder because he might still be there, ready to do it all again with a smile, just to remind him how fucking worthless he really was, is.
“You disgust me. Look at how small you are. Look at how pathetic you are. You can’t even fight back, can you? You don’t even try. You’ll never be anything because you won’t even try to win, such a weak little thing. Do you need help, Nicholas? Stretch for my hand, boy, maybe you can reach me. Let’s see what I’ve got to encourage you to try harder...”
Try harder, fight harder, wage fucking war.
He ground his teeth across the inside of his cheek to stop the prick of emotion that was rapidly threatening to break across his face. It was fucking pathetic but surprising nonetheless. He frowned and tried to steady his shaky breath as she held his eyes and kept pushing his buttons with hers.
Eventually she raised her perfect, lean body with a sigh and walked across to him.
“What do you need from me?” she said softly as she gazed up into his eyes and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck.
He didn’t know, but those big brown eyes were so overwhelmingly soul destroying that he had to get them away from him before he fell apart in front of her, so he looked over her head toward the window. Was that what she wanted from him? Did she want him to let it all out and fall at her feet? He wasn’t sure that he could, even for her, but the fact that his heart was currently pounding erratically probably meant that she was getting him close to it.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly. She moved her hand to his jaw and pulled his eyes back to hers, not allowing him to remove himself from her. The impact of those eyes on his again made him realise with acute clarity that whatever it was that was about to happen, he wanted to stay with her, always with her.
“Yes, you do,” she replied as she trailed her fingers along the front of his throat and started to push his jacket off, her eyes never once leaving his as she continued her assault and kept pleading with him to give her more. “I love you. You deserve everything from me.”
Not a functioning thought entered his mind as he heard those words and began to crumble a little more inside, his throat constricting with the possibility of that lost emotion of another type, of a release of some kind other than anger and then control. His barriers to the years of torment were crushing him internally, constricting inward and pushing the bile of emotions upwards towards his mind again where they were not welcome. He didn’t want it, couldn’t deal with it, was using every available technique to try and squash it back into its box and banish it again, but her god damn eyes kept pulling it upwards to the surface, begging it to release itself and give her the more she was pushing for.
“What do you want from me, Elizabeth? I don’t know how to...”
“Yes, you do,” she replied, undoing his shirt buttons and tugging on his cufflinks. “Show me, Alex. Let me see and feel all of you.”
Her fingers travelled their way along his now bare chest and downwards to his belt, then sliding it from his pants, she held it out to him and continued with her gaze. His whole frame stiffened a little at the thought.
Was this what he wanted? Was it what she wanted? He was beginning to think about dropping down on his knees and letting her simply hold him and now she was offering up the alternative while still searching his eyes for the other response of more. Was he supposed to fucking choose what was happening to him?
“Elizabeth, I...” He hadn’t got a fucking clue what he wanted but the emotions that were beginning to rapidly assault his senses were now overpowering him to the point of shaking.
He fought against visions of that staircase and that tie, and the bastard’s face as he sneered in repulsion at a weak, pathetic child who was just hoping to be loved, or even wanted, for fuck’s sake. His fists tightened at the thought as his eyes flicked to the belt and then back to her. She stood there quietly, looking like the divine angel that she was with a wistful face, simply waiting for his reaction, seemingly completely at ease with either outcome. Her fingers gently held onto the black belt and gave him the chance to embrace the more comfortable version of himself if he chose to, but she could see him breaking, feel him losing the control he was desperately craving while contemplating giving it up entirely.
“Let me in,” she said as she took a step closer and put her other hand on his chest. Tears welled as he looked down at that
small hand and swallowed, trying to somehow will them back inside of him and not allow them any further. They were fucking weak and debilitating. His eyes flicked to the belt again. It was the only way to contain this and he knew it, and she clearly did, too. The pull of normalcy was so strong that he moved his hand toward it until he felt the warm smooth leather beneath his fingers.
“I can’t give you-”
“Yes, you can.”
Her hand reached for his face then ran down his neck as she drew him down to her while he choked on the sob that was consuming his throat like fire. His fingers wrapped around her hand on the belt as he tried one last time to contain his torment and drive the tears back downward. He only had to take that belt and all of this would go away. Every disgusting memory would be chased back to hell in a matter of minutes. “I love you. Show me, please, let me help you,” she whispered into his mouth as her lips grazed across his.
Her fist pushed against the inside of his hand as she tried to relax her hold of the belt, or rather his hold of it. Time stood still and his logic reeled in chaotic uncertainty as an eternity of her lips and her body and her breath began to engage enough thoughts of love and adoration to overwhelm the repulsive visions that were still haunting his mind.
“I love you, too,” he said as he felt the first tear fall onto his cheek and wet his skin. His fingers released her hand and the loud deafening clunk of the belt echoed in the room as it landed on the floor beneath them.
“I know,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
His knees instantly gave way to the barrage of uncontrollable new feelings coursing through his body, crippling any last defence he had against the pain. She dropped to the floor with him and continued to hold him as another lone tear ran onto her stomach, followed by another and another as he let every thought erupt into sorrow for a childhood he was denied. Then years of unbridled anger assaulted his mind, only heightening every sensation of shame and guilt to the point of self-loathing and hatred. Eventually he felt his weight become lax as her body curled tighter around him and rocked him slowly, soothing him to a rhythm of their own, somehow created from her passion and years of his own turmoil and inner demons.
He had no idea how long they sat there on the floor but each minute felt more like falling into hell as each disintegrating barrier opened up yet another fucking hurtful memory or vision to continue his torment. Flashes of the coal shed in the back yard, the toilet where he was allowed to wash his hair, the single mattress on his bedroom floor that the bastard pissed on repeatedly to mark his territory. Her soothing fingers brushed across his forehead gently, reminding him that she was still here, holding him, but it didn’t stop the next visual of the bastard pushing his head into the cooker to check that the toast wasn’t burning. He could still feel the burn in his eyes from the grill and bile rose back up his throat at the still lingering smell of his singed hair as he’d been pulled back out and thrown into the fridge door.
His hands gripped onto her hip, hoping to hell that she could keep him together when this was finally out in the open because she said she wanted this from him. She said she could help him through anything he had to give her, wouldn’t run from him, would understand, and god, he hoped she could because this was it and she had caused it all. There was only the truth left to offer her after this, the devastating and brutal truth of the real man that she’d fallen in love with, the child he’d been and then the man he’d become because of a father who should have moulded him into a better person.
Christ, he absolutely didn’t deserve her compassion and highly doubted her absolution when the time came, because come it would. Regardless of how he tried to hide it from her and in spite of his new image, she would find out because he would eventually break completely for her. She would make him do it unfortunately; he knew that with every beat of his newly awakened heart.
Her fingers ran through his hair softly again as she murmured calming words and gently began to release her hold on him. He didn’t want her to so grabbed tighter to try and dispel the still crippling images that were taunting him and reminding him of his own pathetic weakness.
“Alex, look at me,” she said as she tugged on his hair and tried to make him sit up. He fought against it, not wanting to hear her words. He just wanted to crawl in closer and stay in this place forever as she somehow helped him find an order to this pain in a way he’d never known before.
“I don’t want to. I just want to stay here. Just let me stay here,” he replied quietly as he drew in a long breath and let her scent envelop him in a cocoon of love and warmth, the skin on her thigh caressing his cheek as his lips lightly brushed over it.
“Okay,” she said as he felt her lips on his temple, which caused him to realise that his dramatic tears had finally subsided, thankfully. He wouldn’t be doing that again in a hurry.
Her fingers gently moved back and forth across his back in a figure of eight pattern, caressing the very numbers of his life, the numbers of anguish and shame, and that damned guilt that had been chasing him around for years like a constant knife in the back. But her gentle persuasion was still lulling him deeper into his warm place of hope and something like profound optimism as those haunting visions of the bastard were slowly replaced with roaring wood fires and summer evenings on his yacht, all with her wrapped around him or under him. Nights in Rome or perhaps New York, showing her off to the world and letting everyone know exactly what they were missing as he claimed her publically, possibly by marriage or some other strange notion of commitment to the woman he couldn’t breathe without.
“So what colour should I paint my building?” she said chirpily out of fucking nowhere. He turned his body in her lap to look up at her. She giggled a little and gazed back down at him.
“Where the hell did that come from?” he said, trying to ignore her perfect tits that instantly reminded him of his original purpose and began to slowly entice him back to his old self.
“Well, it’s white. It’s not really mine if it stays white, is it? That would mean it’s still yours and it’s not, it’s mine, because you gave it to me, didn’t you? And now it’s official because I signed the paperwork, which you forced on me I might add, quite pleasurably in fact, but really, you gave me no choice in the matter, did you? I should paint it green or maybe orange. What do you think?”
Well she’d got his attention, clever little thing, and Christ, he loved her rambling. It was probably her way of bringing him back to the present and not letting him dwell in his fucking horrible place. Actually, he was quite enjoying his post horrible place that had morphed into a frankly bloody wonderful place but he chuckled and sat up to look at her anyway.
“I think you should leave it white. White looks good on you,” he replied quietly as he reached across and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I think white looks good on me, too,” she said with a huge smile that beamed that ray of light straight through to his soul again.
“And this White is completely yours. You’re my world, Elizabeth Scott and I want you to know that. I want you to understand everything about me and how I feel about you. Let me show you. I need you to feel it in every beat of your heart because I won’t be without you again. I won’t let you go. I can’t,” he said as he grabbed her face and pulled her forward to his mouth.
Lips had never tasted so sweet. That she had held him and comforted him in his darkest moment seemed to intensify every feeling of love he had for her. His mouth caressed every inch of her lips to try and show her the depth of his feelings. She had no idea what she just caused him to do and what that gave him in return. His hands moved slowly across her throat then outwards across her shoulders and down to her hands as he brought them up to his throat and placed them around it.
“Take this, baby. It’s yours. It’s all yours. When you need the other man, I’ll find him but for now, just take whatever you want and love me. I want to feel how much you love me.”
H
er big eyes widened at the admission but quickly fell back to a soft gaze as her fingers lightly gripped his collarbone and twirled gentle movements over his skin like some sort of symphony of light. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch again, letting her guide where she wanted this to go. Soft, feather-light kisses started at his neck then began to rain down on his chest as he let her chase away the last of his demons. There was nothing hurried or forced about her manner. She just let the tender caress of those lips keep trailing their way over his skin until she removed her hand from his throat and brought those lips back to his mouth.
She pushed against his chest so he rolled backwards to the floor and groaned as her breasts met his chest for the first time. The temptation to grab hold and sink into her was instant but he clenched his fists and waited for her next move to unfold. This was her moment. She’d given him so much tonight, all he wanted was for her to take everything she needed from him and do what she wanted.
In a matter of minutes he was naked and lying underneath her as she straddled him and continued with her sweet mouth, finding its way slowly to wherever she was going. His dick jumped to the constant soft tickling of her breast against it and again he fought every instinct to just throw her on her back and do what he wanted. The sharp bites of pain elicited ever increasing lust as she nipped and sucked her way across his body toward the place he wanted her to end. This submission to her was becoming slowly unbearable as she took every minute he was giving her and used it leisurely to entice growl after growl of frustration from him. Was she trying to wind him up?
Fuck, he wanted to show her how he wanted this, to give her every aggressive and passionate tendency that was now once again coursing with desire across his body, like a tornado slowly building. He was becoming desperate to reclaim his strength, to show her that the weakened man she’d comforted was only a small part of him, to remind her that that little boy was still just a memory and wouldn’t be participating in their lives more often than absolutely necessary.
Feeling White Page 40