Absorbing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  The plane eventually comes to a stop, and I watch as the door opens and the steps are lowered. I’d like to say I’m bothered about my state of undress, but given my hand on hip stance as I stare at the doorway, I’ve clearly become quite comfortable being clotheless around men. Shit, it’s cold, though. A full set of black leathers walks through the door and hands a bag to Alex then removes his helmet. He’s a youngish man, maybe eighteen or so, and very pretty. There is nothing harsh about him. He’s got a quiet aura about him, sweet.

  “Sir,” he says as he sweeps his eyes over me and then looks straight at the floor, possibly in fear.

  “Is he waiting for us?”

  “Yes, Sir,” the young man replies with a strong Italian accent, still looking at the floor. The bag is tossed in my direction so I grab it and open it up to find a set of leathers for me. I assume I’m supposed to put them on, so quickly start trying to squeeze my arse into them. The boy watches me from the corner of his eye as Alex brushes past him and down the steps.

  “What’s your name?” I ask as I zip up the jacket and stuff my feet into the socks and boots also provided.

  “Reubin, ma’am.”

  “Oh god, Reubin, please, no ma’ams. I really don’t like it. Thanks for bringing these in for me.” He looks almost shocked that I’m speaking to him, and still has that white glaze of fear imprinted on his face.

  “That’s okay. There’s been a crash and the roads are busy. Sir thought it would be quicker this way.” Sir? Alex, or Pascal? “I’ll take your bags back in the car. I think you’re going somewhere else.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks again, though. Your English is very good. Where did you learn?” I ask as I shake my hair out of its grip and try to attempt a plait of some description. He gently folds my original clothes and places them in a small rucksack, then puts my shoes and handbag in, too.

  “I schooled in Switzerland from the age of five. Papa thought it best,” he replies with a sad face. My heart swells. He certainly didn’t enjoy school, it seems. Bastard people, sending their children away to school. Why have any if you’re going to do that? “You’ll need to take this, ma’am, sorry, I mean, Miss Scott.”

  “Elizabeth or Beth, Reubin, whichever is easier,” I say as I take the bag from him and shrug it on to turn for the exit. He gives me his helmet as we both walk down the steps, him three steps behind me as if it’s only right to do so, his head down all the time. The relative normality of having Alex to myself has left, it seems. I’m in the realm of Dominants and submissives again.

  Alex is standing near a bike with another man on it, fully kitted out in orange and black leathers with his helmet still on. I have no idea who it is. Maybe we’ve got a guide or something. Alex suddenly slaps the back of the guy’s helmet and wanders over to the bike, pulling on some leather gloves and a wool coat as he does so.

  “You ready?” he says as he climbs on, that excited schoolboy smile plastered on his face. I scowl at the uncomfortable looking seat and frosty winter ground, then attempt to elegantly stretch my leg over it. There is nothing remotely elegant about that manoeuvre, so I clamp on as tightly as possible to avoid the obvious possibility of death and roll my eyes at my ridiculousness. I’m pretty much clasping onto the grim reaper as I sit here, aren’t I? Giving him my soul, so to speak?

  He doesn’t wait for me to get comfortable. He just revs the bike and skids us out into an arc. I coil myself around him even more as he begins to follow the other bike, quickly.

  I’ve never been to Berlin. It’s different, interesting, and as I gaze at all the buildings I’ve seen in brochures, I think about how much I love to travel. There are so many things to see in this world, so many cultures and religions and landscapes to visit. I want to go back to New York and do it properly. I think after we’ve got the business moved and settled in, I’ll try and book some holiday and we can go back there. Maybe Conner and Belle could come, too. Whatever Alex said to Belle that night, it must have worked because they got on really well on Christmas Day. I actually saw them laughing together at one point. And he talked about skiing, and his yacht. I’ve never sailed either, and it’s bound to have actual sails, isn’t it? A proper yacht. There’s no way would he have something he couldn’t push to its limits.

  He points at a large building on our left. It’s almost like a palace with its intricate columns and ornate design features. Steps lead up to the entrance as it dominates the landscape around it and shows its majestic prowess. It’s utterly beautiful. There’s another building, too, and they both surround a huge park or garden area, a church or cathedral maybe. It’s got that fairytale feel about it that all European castles have. Does Germany have a royal family? If it does, I’m sure Pascal knows them. Perhaps we could have high tea?

  A sudden revving of the engine and zipping through traffic at rather excessive speeds has me hanging on for dear life again as he holds my thigh and drives one handed. He’d be getting such a fucking earful if we had those speaking devices in these helmets, but we don’t, so I knock the back of his helmet with mine and feel his chuckle reverberating through his back. Fun Alex is back, happy, relaxed in his own way. Just for me, possibly Pascal, too.

  Eventually, we pull up outside another quite extraordinary building. It’s at least eight floors of old baroque detailing and a doorway that screams eighteenth century sophistication. We must look like a right bunch of idiots turning up on motorbikes. One should be in a horse drawn carriage or something, I’m sure. The man on the other bike gets off, pretty much abandoning his bike, and it’s the moment I see him walk that I realise its Pascal. Even in leathers, he manages to look regal. He walks towards me and holds out a hand to help me as he pulls his helmet off.

  “My love,” he says with a sinful smile. I could practically faint. As if it isn’t enough that I’m already wrapped around a bunch of deliciousness, I’ve now got the other one to contend with, too. I take his hand and remove my helmet, somehow managing a slightly more graceful departure from the bike this time.

  “Fun,” Alex says behind us. We both spin around to face him. He removes his gloves and throws them on the bike absentmindedly. “I like that one. Whose is it?”

  “Lucinda’s. I thought it might amuse you to ride it hard.” My snort of amusement has left me before I know whether it should have or not. Given their battle for Pascal, I’m not entirely sure if it’s funny or not. Thankfully, Alex chuckles and takes my hand.

  “Where are we?” I ask as we wander toward the building.

  “My apartment,” Pascal replies as I scan the building again. “While you are quite divine in leather, I assumed you would feel the need to change.”

  “Lovely, although I was enjoying my tour of the city. It’s very lovely.”

  “That building we passed is the Altes Museum, in the Lustgarten. It’s where the ball is tomorrow, and we need to do some shopping before that,” Alex says as we cross an exquisite marble floor and head toward a gilded cage of an elevator.

  “Why? I have a dress?” In fact, I packed several. Why didn’t he just tell me not to bring any if we were going to buy a new one? I shrug the rucksack off my back and Pascal takes it from me.

  “Not the right kind, you don’t.” I frown in response and watch them both smile at each other. They’ve got that conversation going on again, the one I’m privy to on certain occasions. It appears now is not one of those times. Pascal holds a hand out to the lift and I walk in, hotly pursued by both of them. The gate closes behind them and I suddenly realise how small it is in here. I’m pretty much encased in a shit load of trouble. The floor leaves us and I look up at Alex with a smile. He’s still the most arresting one of the two – bigger, stronger, his face infinitely more appealing – and those cold, calculating eyes still transfix me, regardless of the bastard behind them. He smirks and tilts his head at me, and in a split second, I see those eyes darken. Pascal’s on me instantly. My feet are lifted from the floor as he pushes me back against the cage, harshly. I have no idea wha
t’s hit me until his mouth is on my neck, biting, grabbing, rough hands gripping me through the leather and squeezing with an uncaring grasp. I stare at Alex in shock and wonder where the hell this has come from, but I can see by his calm demeanour and cool face that he’s given this to Pascal. He’s giving me to him. He licks his lips and just watches me, and I can’t help but love every second of it. Being watched as Pascal flicks the button on my leathers and delves his hand into them is mesmerising, mind-blowing even. I don’t know how, but I know I’ve got to keep looking at Alex. This is for him. I pant out and try to move to aid his access because I want Pascal’s hand inside me. I’ve been waiting for God knows how long to feel him inside me. He kicks my legs wider and pushes his hand further in. The leather creaks around his efforts, and I swear he might tear them off with them force of his tugging. And then he’s there, and two fingers shove inside me, brutally. Everything stills as my mouth parts and a puff of warm breath hits the air. I’m pinned to the cage and gazing at the man I love as the whole world stops spinning and Pascal’s fingers begin to work me. Alex slowly pushes a button on the panel to stop the elevator, a flicker of amusement crossing his face as I squeal in response to the sudden sharp bites along my neck. The next moan that leaves me is filled with near delirium as that hand drives in again like a wild animal, feral, foraging and claiming the prize he’s been offered. He’s aggressive. He’s clearly been let loose and he’s going to take his opportunity. He delves in deeper, changing my angle again and sliding his other hand into the back of my trousers to keep me aloft. Time and time again, he’s pinching and grabbing, forcing his weight into me, slamming me backwards against the metal rails because he knows it hurts, beautifully. So I close my eyes and let the build take me, let the fact that I’m being used be okay as his cock digs into my inner thigh. I can feel it straining to get at me. He hasn’t got a hope because of the time we’ve got, and that’s why Alex has done this, to tease him, and me, to get us ready. But I am going to come. It’s taken nothing for him to get me to this point and I can feel it coming at me like a steam train, rushing across my body and forging a path through my surprise as he grunts into my neck and pushes his cock against me harder. I open my eyes to look at Alex again. I need to see him when this happens. I need him to know that it’s because of him, for him. He presses the button on the panel again and looks at his watch with a smirk as the lift starts to move once more. My core begins to contract around brutal fingers and flashes of light blind me at the promise of bliss as his thumb pushes me higher into my orgasm.

  “Yes, more, do it,” I gasp out as I grab onto his shoulders and let him shove me back again and again. My fingers grip on, my nails digging in with no care, and pull him in toward me. His mouth… I want his mouth, his kiss, that one thing I need to make this more intimate somehow. Alex sneers. He can see I need it, and he clearly doesn’t like the thought. Fuck him. It’s my orgasm. I’ll have it however I want it. I tug the back of Pascal’s hair until his face comes up to mine, his fingers still ramming in and pushing me forward. Oh god, just a few more times and I’ll come. My lips reach for his and he hesitates so I tug harder and instantly moan as they meet mine. Love, lust, I haven’t got a clue what it is, but as his tongue swirls with mine, the feeling is explosive and everything goes white in front of me. My body stills against him as those deviant stars erupt and I feel him still groaning into my mouth, still rubbing his cock into me and sliding his fingers in and out. All I can feel is Alex for some reason, and all I can taste is Pascal, on me, and in me. Both of them, together.

  My eyes slowly open again to see Alex over Pascal’s shoulder. If I could remove my lips, I would but his mouth is divine, nothing like Alex’s, far less intense, more romantic if that’s possible in this moment. He’s staring at me, his eyes now blackened and dirty. He’s horny, extremely so, and we did that to him. Our performance has his abnormal brain conjuring up all sorts of depravity, I’m sure. I roll my lips around Pascal’s and let my quaking slow down a little to relish it some more as I keep my eyes trained on Alex to show him how much I love him. It’s strange, given my current positioning really, grinding on another man’s hand, but there you go. This will definitely take some getting used to, but it has been for him, done with his permission.

  “Take your hand out of her,” he says, still staring at me. There’s the briefest of hesitations before Pascal obeys and pulls away from me altogether, leaving me rather breathless against the cage to try and stand up on my own. He backs away to the corner and sucks at his fingers. I so want to do that. If I was any hornier, I’d probably be dangerous. I’m not entirely sure what we’re all supposed to do now – say thank you? That was very nice? I wish I could stop the giggle that’s rising in my throat but I’m really struggling to be honest. Pascal is really not helping. His smirk is firmly in place as he continues sucking his finger in the corner.

  “She does taste exceptional. You were right,” he says as the lift stops, dings and the doors open. Alex growls at him and watches him carefully as he picks up my rucksack, exits and then wanders off down the hall. I look at him and try to hold back my giggle again because, seriously, what the hell is he growling about now?

  “If it’s not comfortable, why are you doing this?” He stares at me, an almost lost look on his face as he probably tries to work that out for himself. I button up my trousers again and lounge like a slut on the bars behind me. Christ, I feel nice.

  “Just because I want to see him with you it doesn’t mean I have to like it, or enjoy it quite as much as you just did.” That’s it. I can no longer hold my hysterics in. Really? Jesus. What the hell did he want me to do? Pretend I didn’t? Oh my god. I’m almost crying at the hilarity of what he’s just said, my stomach muscles clenching as he just continues with his stare and then yanks me towards him with yet another growl of annoyance. I walk my fingers up his suited chest and get up on tiptoes to kiss him, pouring all my love into his mouth in the hope that it relaxes him to some degree. It was his idea after all. He pulls away after a minute and stares at me again.

  “I’ll hate every minute of it next time, I promise.” I giggle into his chest. I really haven’t got anything else to say on the matter.

  “Hmm. I can promise you’ll hate every minute of it, too,” he replies as he lets go of me and ushers me out with a small smile. I’m not entirely sure I’m happy with that response. What exactly does he mean by that? He walks us down two corridors and finally gives me a key and a rather dramatic slap on the backside as we reach a door.

  “It’s yours. Put it on your keyring. If you ever need a place to run to, this is it. Here or the safe room at home.” He’s very serious all of a sudden. “What was the code?” I gaze at him for a moment, trying to get my head around what he’s just said, and then try to remember the code. Battle of Hastings.

  “Ten sixty six, but I don’t see why I-”

  “Because you may need to one day, and if you do, I’ll know where to find you. You go nowhere else but those two places.”

  I put the key in the lock and try to dismiss his strange words. I know we had that little chat yesterday but honestly, as if anyone’s ever going to come after me. I may be his girlfriend, but this Mafia world he seems to be part of isn’t anything to do with me. And why bring it up now? I was really enjoying my post-Pascal orgasmic bliss there, arsehole.

  The door opens and I’m hit by the smell of sandlewood and flowers. It’s a bright apartment, nothing like his apartment in Eden – London’s Eden, that is. It still has heavy antique furniture but the drapery is cream and the wallpaper a relaxing blue colour with fleur de lis patterning on it. It’s almost as if a woman lives here, too.

  “Ah, there you both are. I had assumed he was fucking me out of you. It is not possible that I’ve exhausted you, surely?” Pascal says as he comes around the corner, now having taken his top and jacket off so I can see his upper body. It’s completely unfair of him. I spin back to Alex to see if he’s up for that. My crotch certainly is. He r
aises a brow and looks at a door in the corner of the room, then shakes his head at himself and takes off his coat instead.

  “I’ve given Elizabeth a key.”

  “Of course you have. This way I can fuck her whenever I like. A truly marvellous plan, you are a genius, Sir.”

  “Pascal,” he growls.

  “You cannot possibly imagine I will be able to behave around her now?” he replies as he wanders back out of the room again, unzipping the front of his leathers as he does. I instantly chastise myself for trying to crane my head after him.

  “Where’s the coffee machine?” I ask Alex, because there has to be one, clearly.

  “In the kitchen, down the hall on the left.”

  I walk down towards it and gaze at the pictures on the wall. They’re all non-descript, just random paintings and prints. There’s nothing to give anything away about Pascal until I reach a small silver photograph frame on a side table. I pick it up and study the two incredibly handsome men in it, both in full military livery of some sort with medals decorating their chests and swords at their sides.

  “That’s his brother, Fabrice, and his father.” I turn around to find Alex looking at the picture over my shoulder, a slightly concerned look on his face as he takes the picture from me and gently puts it back on the table.

  “You really do care about him, don’t you?” I say as I gaze up at him. He turns past me and goes into the kitchen with a frown. “Alex, it’s okay for you to be in love with him. I don’t mind.”

  “I know you don’t,” he says as he turns to look straight at me with a smile. I look over his form, all six foot four of him, looking utterly breathtaking in his small moment of confusion. His perfectly tailored suit is undone at the front, opening up his heart to me, just me. “And considering I’ve just let him touch you, it’s a damn good job I am.” I lean on the units and return his smile. He’s finally admitted it, although he hasn’t exactly said he’s bi.