Absorbing White Read online

  I look back up into his eyes as he stands there, looking far too fucking attractive for the situation, and I try to hold his darkening blue gaze as best as I can.

  “Alex, I ... I don’t want this, whatever it is. I just want to go back to the bedroom. Just let me-”

  “You do want this, Elizabeth. You told me you did.”

  My eyes widen in surprise as his brow raises a touch. Is he suggesting I’ve asked for this behaviour in some way? I haven’t, or not that I’m aware of. I just wanted to understand the man I love a little better, to be a part of him and help him battle his demons.

  “Not like this,” I reply quietly as I try my best to cover my boobs and decide to not listen to the slight snicker that’s just left the bitch’s mouth.

  “Tara, lower,” he grates out without removing his eyes from mine. She instantly moves and places her forehead on the floor in front of her knees. She’s clearly a professional sub then, although why he’s chastising her for being rude to me is completely unknown. It’s not like he’s being particularly friendly at the moment. It suddenly strikes me that I understood that exchange – that I knew what he was trying to do to her. She was rude to me, and he didn’t like it, so he told her off. Wow, I get this shit. I understand. When did I learn to understand that? Has all this time in his company taught me things I hadn’t even thought of? Has the time with Pascal enlightened me to stuff I wasn’t aware had sunk in? It’s not like we’ve ever really had that type of relationship. I’ve never really had to deal with this type of behaviour before, but clearly I do understand it somehow. It doesn’t mean the current situation has changed, but maybe I can use it to my advantage, because regardless of his malevolence, he’s clearly still here with me, otherwise he wouldn’t have just done that, would he?

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” I say quietly, as I continue to look at him. Those dead blue eyes just keep staring back. There’s nothing for me to work with. If we were alone, I’d reach out for him, try to bring him back a little, maybe even give him what he needs, but we’re not. In fact, I’m pretty sure it should be him making me feel better, shouldn’t it? It should be him telling me why he killed people, him explaining himself and trying to make me understand his reasons so that we can move on.

  “I want you to endure, Elizabeth. Learn,” he replies, almost reticently as he licks his lips, lets go of my gaze and moves towards Tara again. Unfortunately, I’m one part interested and two parts irritated. I haven’t got a clue what he’s about to do, and I’m pretty certain I’m not going to want to watch it, so I’ve only got a few choices left. Run, storm off, or close my eyes and lower my head. Unfortunately, my curiosity seems to be getting the better of me, because try as I might, I can’t seem to get my feet to move me anywhere. Regardless of whatever strange emotion is unsettling my stomach at the thought of those butchering hands, I still want him. I want to reach inside that soul and drag him back to me, knit us back together somehow and force him to tell me more. Why? Who? Where? Why do I need to know this crap? It’s ridiculous of me. I should be running for the fucking hills, screaming about the murderer in the room, not kneeling here waiting for whatever snippet of information he’s about to deliver like I’m some love-struck puppy. I should get a bloody grip of myself.

  His hand suddenly grabs hold of the back of Tara’s hair and pulls her upwards. It’s harsh even by his standards. She winces at the pressure but lifts herself up until she’s standing in front of him, still completely fucking naked, not unlike myself, obviously.

  “I want you to show Elizabeth what I like to see you do to other women.”

  What the hell does that mean? My throat can’t stop the unconscious gasp that slips out at his words. I told him I wouldn’t do that – that I didn’t want another woman involved.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replies as she drops her head again and turns towards me. Yes, me, because I’m the only other damn woman in the room. The slight sneer she allows to creep over her face once her back is to him doesn’t go unnoticed. Bitch. Am I not worth her fucking time or something? What the hell did I just think that for? Jesus, I’m confused.

  Her hand reaches for my shoulder. Oh my god, what am I going to do? My body freezes again at the thought as she gently lands her fingers on my skin. They’re warm. I’m not sure why, but I expected them to be cold, like her, but they’re not. They’re soft, tender even. My eyes shoot back to him again.

  “Alex, I…” I can’t even finish what I want to say, because for whatever reason, her touch is somehow soothing, and his intense stare does not make me feel like I’ve got much choice in the matter anyway. Safeword… I should use that, shouldn’t I? I should just say it now. Then all of this will stop and I can go back to the bedroom. Yes, Chess. I need to say it. The word lingers, but I can’t seem to make it come out of my mouth. I can’t find speech anymore, and her lips moving towards mine as she kneels in front of me really aren’t helping my cause.

  “First time?” she whispers, surprising me with a far more friendly smile on her still very beautiful face than I was expecting.

  “Umm...” It’s all I’ve got, because she’s now moved her hand to my face. One long finger moves along my cheekbone and down towards my mouth with a feather light touch. I’m sure my mouth is open, and I know my body has become a rigid fortress of closed gates, but I can’t move because her eyes have changed. They’ve become liquid, or some other unusual thing that can’t be described. I’m being drawn into them so acutely that I’m not even in control of my breathing anymore.

  “Relax, honey,” she says. “You’ll be fine.”

  And then she’s there, her unfairly full lips on mine, tenderly, quietly, and my first reaction is to pull away so my head snaps back to look at her again. She’s doing that smile still, the one that makes me want to trust her, and her tousled blonde hair around her face seems to bring on visions of fairytales and dreams for some odd reason. My eyes flick across to Alex. He’s standing at the bar now, leaning on it with a glass of something dark in his palm, still no flicker of emotion to tell me why he’s doing this.

  “Don’t think about him,” she says seductively. “Think about what you need.”

  I have no damn clue what I need, but I’m positive it had nothing to do with kissing a woman ten minutes ago. I wish I could say the same thing now, but the core clenching that’s currently going on means I’m clearly no longer commanding my faculties. My inner slut is very much in control, and now Tara’s mouth is moving in again. I’m positive this is the moment I should get up and leave, but I don’t really want to. Those lips are suddenly tempting me, inviting me to try yet another new version of Alex that I’ve never met before. So I move forward into them, and before I know what’s hit me, her tongue is there, too, gently teasing my mouth open and asking for more. There’s absolutely nothing aggressive about it, not one hint of power or force, just sweet delicious licks of enticement.

  My body’s humming, and then her hands wrap into the back of my hair and I do everything I can to not enjoy the experience, but I’m lying to myself because the fact is, I’m revelling in it. Feeling her moving around my body is like soft winds caressing silk, and her touch on my skin sends exquisite shivers of uncertainty coursing across me in a way I’ve never experienced before.

  “Lie down, Elizabeth.” His velvety voice comes crashing into the moment. I’d almost forgotten he was here, lost in the arms of another woman, but the strength of his tone reminds me exactly what’s going on here. My hackles come racing back from God knows where. Who the hell does he think he is, making me do this? Manipulative bastard.

  “No,” I mumble in response through her lips as I begin to pull away again. She instantly tightens her hold on the back of my head and tries to keep the kiss going, so I push on her shoulders to get away from her and shift myself away. “No, I won’t do this. I’m not playing with you, or her.”

  Something flashes in his eyes. It’s so quick that I can’t begin to understand it, and before I can ev
en get to my feet, he’s crossed the space between us and is pulling Tara by the hair again. His frame moving in that manner has me remembering every second of his power over me, every bruising touch that has me yearning for more. Tara groans at the pressure and manoeuvres herself around perfectly to accommodate his every move. Within seconds, she’s on her back with him in between her legs. Those long fucking legs are wrapping themselves around the man I love as he hovers on his haunches in front of her and moves his hands to his belt with a sneer.

  “You want to do this the hard way? Fine,” he clips as he flicks the buckle and then the top button of his trousers. My mouth is gaping again. Is he really going to do this? In front of me? What the hell am I supposed to do about this? My hands itch with the need to slap seven bales of shit out of him, but still I can’t move. I can hardly close my mouth from its ridiculous gaping, and now even my ability to speak seems to have left me again. Her hands travel down between her legs, and unfortunately, I can’t stop my bloody eyes from following them as her fingers find the tops of her thighs. I’m so mesmerized by them that I don’t even notice that he’s got himself out and is ready and waiting to dive into her until it’s almost too late. That’s mine. What the hell is he doing? No, I can’t see that. I don’t want that. I’ll do anything to avoid that, and as her fingers grasp at his thigh and pull him toward her, I feel speech come rushing back to me.

  “No, Alex, stop. Don’t...”

  He doesn’t stop. He just lets her touch his thighs, lets her carry on with her moaning and writhing, and then moves lower over her until his face is inches from her lips and his body is aligned perfectly.

  “What do you want, whore?” he says to her as he drags his tongue across her lips. She nips lustfully at them and looks even more glorious for it. Oh my god! My stomach churns again at the thought, but I can’t fucking move. I can’t move my fucking hands or any other body part to try and save myself from whatever the hell it is that’s going on.

  “You, Sir,” she replies breathily as she moves her hands to the back of his head and tries to pull him down to her mouth. And he fucking lets her, right there in front of me. Their lips begin rolling across one another, and the sound of desire echoes in the room as his body presses onto her and she twines herself in tighter. Bitch. Bastard. Why can’t I speak?

  Her fingers find their way to the back of his neck, then his throat – my throat. That’s my damn throat. Suddenly, my body fires back to life and I’m pushing at his frame with all my might – anything to get him off her and to gain some sense of control again. Slapping happens, and then more shoving, but before I can do anything with his weight, he has me pinned by both wrists at the side of him, that expert pressure of his grasping more firmly than normal as he chuckles and moves back slightly. Tara continues her groaning beneath him, her naked form continually trying to entice him back to the task at hand, and I have no damn clue how, but he somehow manages to get me on my back beside her. My arms are still pinned beneath my back as he dips his head and runs his tongue along the entire length of my stomach until his face comes to a standstill in front of me. Why do his eyes have to be so damned consuming?

  “Joining in, Elizabeth? Here, have a taste.” I have no idea what that means until his finger is in front of my mouth. It’s glistening with what must be Tara’s wetness. That’s all I’ve got to describe it. Does he expect me to put that in my mouth? “Open up.”

  Clearly he does, and while fifty percent of me is running for the hills, there’s another part that’s being held captive by his gaze, those darkened eyes that once again hold an element of amusement. The monster, it seems, has retreated for a while, but his mouth is still stern, serious. He means it, and for whatever reason, my damn body is traitorously yielding to his request. Thankfully, my lips aren’t as I clamp them closed.

  “Are you going to do what you’re told?” My head shakes slowly in his face. I’m not doing it. I’m not having that woman in my mouth. I can’t. I don’t even know why this is happening, let alone understand the reason why my inner slut is licking her lips and running full throttle into the breach. He shifts his body weight around on top of me until he’s lying between my legs. He releases my hands with yet another smirk and dips his fingers into his own fucking mouth. Jealousy rages through me at the way his lips move around them, tasting her, savouring it, and then he finally pulls them out and gazes down at me with another chuckle. “Someone is going to come, Elizabeth. Choose who.”

  What does he mean by that? Does he mean him? I have no idea. I’m completely lost, and it only seems to heighten the need to have him grind into me, which he isn’t doing. My body instantly starts to ache, and I just suppress the need to push myself up to him so that I can feel that muscle and rid myself of this fucking nightmare. What the hell is this all about? He’s a murderer. What am I even doing lying here beneath him? I have to get out of here and stop this ridiculous game. I need to get myself back into that bedroom, where I can avoid all of this craziness and call someone to help.

  “Alex, let me get up. I don’t want this,” I say quietly. His head tilts a little, and then he’s off me and pushing Tara back down again until his mouth hovers around her breast.

  “Seems it’s going to be you,” he says to her as his tongue flicks at her nipple. She instantly begins her moaning again, writhing and grinding into him as he swirls that delicious tongue around her and reaches for his drink. I can’t believe what I’m watching. My mouth is gaping, again. It’s not possible he really means this, is it?

  “Alex, please don’t do this. What the hell do you want from me? I don’t want any of this. Why are you doing this? You said you didn’t want another woman. Just stop, please.”

  He doesn’t stop anything at all, just continues with his mouth on tit action and smiles at Tara the slut as she forces her chest up into his face. The fact that I’ve suddenly noticed how incredible her breasts actually are is neither here nor there.

  “I gave you a choice, Elizabeth. You chose to not do anything with it. So just run along and let me enjoy myself.”

  What the fuck? He really is going to do this. What an arsehole. I’m leaving. I’m on my feet and making my way to the bedroom when I suddenly remember how fucking angry I am. Furious doesn’t even begin to cover how damned irritated I am. Of course, Pascal flits into my mind again. Well, he can just take a running jump with his “stay in control” speech. They’re both fucking insane. This whole thing is insane. How can anybody put up with this sort of shit? This is so not normal. I’m not surprised, given his upbringing, but does he have to be such a fucking bastard for no reason whatsoever? He’s the one in the wrong, not me. How fucking dare he do any of this?

  My feet have turned me back towards him before I’ve even considered what I’m doing. I have absolutely no control over what my body’s about to do, but I’m pretty sure it has a lot to do with hitting him, because I can feel my fists tightening and my nails digging into my palms. Fucking arsehole. Why? Why me? Why did I fall for him, and why is that fucking slut still moaning and groaning? I hate that sound. I hate her. I fucking hate him.

  “Alex?” I say as I reach the pair of them, his perfect backside in my line of view as I try to let go of my fingers so I can slap the shit out of him the moment he turns around.

  “What?” he replies without removing his face from her fucking faultless body.

  “Look at me.”

  “I’m bored with looking at you.” Tara giggles. It’s not fucking funny.

  “Turn the hell around and look at me.”

  My hands have found my hips. I’m not having this at all. I can feel my eyes searching for something to pick up and throw at him. There must be something I can use to stop this shit. I suppose I could just jump on him or something… That could work. Or I could use that rage thing he somehow found in me. In fact, I think it’s beginning to wind its way up my spine quite effortlessly already. I can feel every thought turning into some sort of explosion of fury. My limbs are shaking aga
in, and that blindness seems to be coming at me from somewhere.

  “Alex, I’m warning you.” What the hell I think I’m warning him about is inconsequential at the moment. I’ll make a decision when he answers me or turns himself round. Yet again, he doesn’t, and Tara keeps giggling, which just increases my rage to new heights. My eyes fly around for something again, and then I remember the knife. That’ll damn well stop him. I stomp off towards it with no rational thought at all, and on eventually reaching it, I bend down to swipe it off the floor with such ease I can’t even believe my own actions. It suddenly feels comfortable in my hand, an extension of my thoughts and fears, and he did tell me to use it, didn’t he? So I’m damn well going to use it. To rip his fucking head off.

  Swinging back around, I launch back up the hallway, still listening to the bitch who has now lowered her giggling to some sort of erotic mewling sound. Presumably Alex, the fucking god, has started his deviant fingers on their mind-bending course that should be reserved for only me. What a wanker.

  Before I know it, I’ve grabbed the back of his hair viciously and tilted his head back towards me. Then, without any further thought on the matter, the bloody knife is at his throat.

  My hands are still shaking, and I can see the fear jumping from Tara’s eyes at me as I lean over the pair of them. She’s clearly in shock. So am I, if I’m honest, but the fact is this suddenly feels completely okay. It’s as if I’ve done it a thousand times. So why isn’t Alex fighting me, or at the very least trying to get the blade away from his neck? I can feel the texture of his hair in my hand. I can smell his aftershave assaulting me. I can’t stop myself from inhaling it into my lungs and taking a snippet of that calmness to try and get myself together. My thighs are trembling around his back as I yet again increase my grasp of his hair and let all that rage twist my fingers until his jaw is tilting up towards me. What the hell am I doing? My teeth are grinding on themselves in a bid to tell me I’m doing something wrong, but the rubber in my hand feels so right, so natural, so vengeful. How dare he do this to me, to us? What the hell is he trying to achieve with his little game?