Absorbing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Please,” he heard as he walked away to line up again. He turned to find her hovering in front of Pascal, her arms outstretched as she glared at him. She wanted it, too, it seemed.

  “Back up,” he said as he drew the whip back and flicked it about. “You’ll need to lean on him.”

  There was nothing but figures there now. He could hardly think for the lack of anything coursing through his thoughts. Just a whip and some bodies. Where were the others? They could join in, too. He flicked his eyes behind him to see only the man. He raised a brow and watched the guy bow and back away. He always was a weak fucker, only good for helping Pascal at the end of it all. But there wasn’t going to be an end this time. He looked back to find her still standing there, endless legs trying to hide his target from him. Maybe he should fuck her while he did this, or maybe shove his cock down her throat again as she kneeled for him. Then he could hear them both begging him, or fucking screaming. Either would be fine, just as long as this fucking noise went away again.

  “Alex, I love you. Please stop,” she said. He watched the words leave her lips and smiled at them. She loved him. Even in this, she loved him. She wouldn’t love him soon enough. She didn’t have a clue who she loved, and why should she?

  “MOVE!” he roared at her.

  He flicked his eyes at the bedpost and remembered her bound to it, screaming as she’d felt only a little of him in flight. Fuck. His already hard cock ached at the thought as he imagined her fighting him, screaming at him and pleading for mercy. Pascal was hardly fighting anymore. The fun in him was almost over. The man just hung there now, ready to take more, but he was intrinsically useless now he wasn’t trying to support himself. He was just another body. Still, he could take more, and so he raised the whip and readied himself. If she wasn’t going to move then she could feel the brunt of it, too.

  She suddenly moved towards him and got in his face, her hands waving around and hair flying brilliant reds at him. He smiled and watched her irritation grow until she eventually pointed at Pascal and said something. He couldn’t hear it, wasn’t fucking interested. Her body was all that concerned him as she began pushing against him and swearing. He grasped her arm and twisted so hard she screamed and dropped to the floor in front of him. Her face was suddenly nervous and scared again as she gazed up at him and he watched her mouth move again.

  He just kept staring at those lips saying something, and imagined them with a gag, or another man’s cock embedded in them. She was good at that, fucking with her throat. Her perfect throat, his fucking throat. He clamped his hand around it and hauled her to her feet until all he could see was that mouth panting in front of his eyes. Beautiful lips, just trembling and waiting for him to hurt her. Because she wanted that. She must, or she wouldn’t be putting herself in the way.

  He curled his lip at the thought and pulled her across to the bed as she fought him. He could feel her body kicking out at him and her muscles trying to get away, but there was nowhere for her to go. She was just in here, with him, and no one was going to save her from him. No one. She was here to help him forget, to help him lose himself in her and remind himself how indecent he really was.

  He pushed her to the post and watched her mouth carry on moving as her fists beat at his chest and arms. She really was beautiful, utterly perfect, and as his cock hardened again, he grabbed the whip on the bed and curled it around her arms, binding them together. Her pulse throbbed in his hand along with the beat of his cock as he tied it tighter and pulled her towards a waiting hook. Three turns and she was hanging there for him, just hanging there, waiting to be taken, hurt, bruised. He scanned her body and saw her reaching for the floor with her toes. She could hardly reach it. She was simply trying to take her weight on the bound wrists. Her skin writhed and twisted to get some purchase, and she fought well, but there wasn’t a chance she could help herself. He just stood back and watched, licking his lips and imagining what he could do with her.

  Maybe he should just watch her hang some more and see how much fight she had in her. He sneered a little at the thought, there wasn’t much fun in that was there.

  Something brought his attention back to her face, and he gazed at her eyes as she kept moving her mouth. Such pretty eyes – angels lived in there, sweet, well-mannered and decent angels. There was nothing angelic happening here. This was where devils played. This was a time for demons and monsters to do their worst, to take that which was offered and rid themselves of some torment for a while. But, as he watched her, he felt those brown eyes trying to tell him something. Trying to get inside his head and pull him back to her, just as she always did. Christ he loved her for that. Maybe they were screaming at the depravity in his soul though, asking for more. She could have that. She could have everything from him. It was all for her.

  Her mouth moved again as he wandered closer and brushed his fingers across her perfect skin. So milky, so ready to be tainted and torn. He pinched at her and watched her eyes widen again as her mouth kept moving. Why was it moving? He couldn’t hear a fucking word coming out of it as she tried to turn her body away and shuffled her feet toward the bed for support. He grabbed at them and forced them back to hanging, just hanging, dangling by her pretty little wrists. That’s all he suddenly wanted, so he could fuck her like that and hear her say she loved him, needed him.

  Loved him for all of his true self.

  Love.

  His eyes snapped back up to her face again. Her lips were still animated, still mouthing words at him, and her eyes were still pleading for something as they filled with tears, beautiful tears. But he still couldn’t hear the noise she made. It was so quiet in this room, so peaceful, and he could only gaze at them as she wrenched her head about and tried to get to the bed again. Love. Christ, he loved her for giving him this, for allowing it, offering it and wanting it with him. And he needed to be inside her now, needed to feel her clamping on him and telling him she loved him, showing him how worthwhile he actually was, or at least could be. He wanted that more than the silence. Or maybe he just needed to create more of it somehow, a different kind of silence, her version of it, to just revel in her skin and watch it moan out for him, just for him. Her perfect body, it was all for him. She told him that. It was his to own and do with as he saw fit. She offered that, too, didn’t she? She said he could take it all from her.

  He gasped as a sudden pain tore through the back of his head, and then again, sending him straight to the floor in agony. He tried to turn but another blow hit him from somewhere, and then another. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t really care either, because as that darkness pulled him under, all he could feel was peace again. Peace and a beautiful quiet. His fingers scratched at the carpet weakly as he gazed up at her legs and saw her hanging on the bedpost.

  “Angel,” he murmured out, watching the light dancing around her face. Why was she hanging? Had he done that? She looked frightened, scared. Something hit him again, something hard, and everything went black.

  Chapter 31

  Elizabeth

  W e’ve been bobbing around here in the warm Italian water for four days now. Nothing much has been said about what happened. Maybe no one really wants to talk about it, including me. I just want to pretend it didn’t happen and try to move on. I don’t even know if that’s possible really, but as I watch Pascal tying off the main sail and shimmying his way back down towards me, I know there’s hope of some sort. He protected me, just like he said he would. Even though he could hardly stand, he somehow managed to get that other chap in the room to uncuff him. He refused to let him help him hit Alex, said it would be rude, so he just did it himself. Typical Pascal, ever the gentleman, even in the most depraved situation.

  He simply picked up what I now know was a spreader bar, and then hit him with it, repeatedly, until Alex eventually blacked out. At the time, I’d been begging, screaming and shouting all sorts of words at him in the hope he’d stop, but there was no reaction, nothing, just dead eyes and an ever-growing body
as he looked towards me with a sneer. I still don’t know how I feel about that. I thought he’d hear me, thought our love was enough to pull him out of wherever that dark place is that he goes, but apparently it’s not.

  “Where is the balm?” Pascal calls as he lands two feet on the deck and smiles at me.

  “I’ve got it,” I reply as I dig around under the towels for it. Three times a day, every day, we have to apply it to his back. Not that there’s much skin left to apply it to, but he says it’ll heal. The skin might, but I have no idea how his mind will.

  He wanders over to me in his shorts and shirt, looking every bit the European captain as he skips over the yacht as if he’s spent his life on them. Wobbly seas mean nothing to him, it seems. I, on the other hand, am clearly less elegant in my manoeuvring ability on board such a fine vessel as I try to stand.

  “Do stay down, my dear. It is quite unbecoming when you attempt movement.” I roll my eyes at him and plonk myself back down again. He simply smiles and pulls the shirt from his back so I can smear the balm over his wounds. There are a lot of them, zigzagging and striping his torso to remind me, us both really, what the man we love is capable of.

  “How are they today?” I ask as I dig my hand in and slather the oily substance over the crusting surface of what’s left of his skin.

  “Itching. Where is he?”

  “Swimming,” I reply with a chuckle as I raise my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun to look for him. He’s nowhere to be seen, and if it’s anything like the last three days, we won’t see him for another two hours or so at least. Apparently it’s quiet out there. I suppose it is, given that we’re the only ones for miles in an ocean of aquamarine calm waters.

  It was his choice to come here. After he came round from his blackout, he just sat there for an hour and looked at us both. He sat stock still in the middle of the room as Pascal and I watched him from the bed, cautiously. Even at that point I was still behind Pascal, I’d been put there before Alex even came round, and told to stay there until he deemed it acceptable. I hadn’t argued either. Darkened Alex was a very scary prospect, and it seemed neither of us knew what to expect when he woke up. But after a while, when I saw the look on his face was full of remorse, I couldn’t stop myself from going to him. I’d pushed past Pascal and then scrambled down to sit quietly in front of him on the floor with my legs crossed, mirroring his position and just gazing into his eyes. He simply stared back with those cool blue eyes and no a hint of a smile. He just studied me, occasionally glancing across my body more than likely looking for injury. There wasn’t any, Pascal had stopped him before it was too late.

  Eventually, the man I love told us we were going to his yacht for some peace. Neither of us questioned it. I’m not sure why. I could have so easily just left at that point, but something told me to trust him, to stay, and I knew Pascal would never leave him regardless of the implications to his body. So we went home and packed our things while Alex made some phone calls, one of which was to Michael’s family to tell them the news. He made all the arrangements necessary for the funeral and then quietly packed his things as we waited for him.

  “How does he seem this morning?”

  “Brighter. He said we should go to the mainland for dinner this evening,” I reply as I close the lid on the jar and turn onto to my front in the hope of catching a glimpse of him in the water. There’s still nothing to see, just an ocean of blues and greens stretching as far as the eye can see. But as least he is out there somewhere, alive and breathing. Whether he understands what happened in that room or not, I don’t know because he just won’t speak about it. He won’t talk to me about Aiden or his father, either. In fact, he’s hardly speaking at all. “Do you think it’ll go back to the way it was at some point soon?” I mumble out as I pick up a glass of orange juice and stare into it. Pascal lies down next to me, and looks up to the skies above with a sigh.

  “I doubt he will ever go back to where he has come from again, my love. He is perplexed by himself and therefore in need of our patience. We must persist with our perception of love until he realises his potential,” he says with a smile wrapped around his very appealing mouth.

  “That’s your plan, is it? Just let him find his way back on his own terms and damn how we might feel about what happened?”

  “How we feel about what happened is not relevant, my love. It is his burden to bear, his cross to carry. You must allow him this time to find himself again. Only then can we find the correct path forward. He will tell us when he finds it.”

  He twists onto his side and gazes at me as I shake my head at his relaxed posture and try to find his sense of peace in Alex’s behaviour. I was so scared at the time, so frightened and horrified at what I was part of. If it hadn’t been for the man beside me protecting me, I’m not sure what would have happened. Handle him or not, I was not ready for the nightmare coming at me. I was in no way prepared for the utter look of devastation embedded in his features or the way he didn’t seem to see me. He was utterly lost, and there was no coming out of it.

  “Why do you trust him, Pascal? Why would you put yourself in the hands of someone who could tear you to shreds without care?”

  He turns onto his back again and pulls me into him, so I snuggle into the one man I feel safe with lately and rest my head on his chest. His heart beats slowly beneath my ear and I smile at the comfort it gives me. Slow and relaxed. Confident in everything he is, does and needs. I’ve questioned a thousand times if I’m with the right man or not since we got here. It’s nearly left my lips twice that he should just take me home and we should leave Alex here. But every time I’ve seen them together, every time I’ve watched a single touch delivered to Pascal, with a smile or not, I can see him melting into the man he loves. He’ll never leave him again, and he certainly won’t at the moment, not when he’s needed.

  I rub my head into him again and close my eyes as he starts fiddling with my hair and humming some song to himself. I don’t know what it is, but it’s so gentle, just a caressing mellow tune floating around the air and lulling me to a serene place I haven’t been for a while. His ribs reverberate with each breath and cause my cheek to tingle a little, so I giggle at him and let the warm rays keep me calm and safe.

  “Do you still love him, Elizabeth?” he says out of nowhere. What a ridiculous question.

  “Of course I do,” I mumble in reply as I try to keep myself from falling asleep, fail, and snuggle in closer. “I will always love him, I need him, and he needs me.”

  “Mmm.” Is his reply as he strokes my arm.

  It’s so very warm here, so calming and peaceful. I could stay here forever, and I will, won’t I?

  I know that to my core. I’ll wait for as long as it takes to get my man back. If this is what he needs then I’ll stay here with him and wait, hoping for his return, or maybe a new version of him to appear. I don’t know, and I’m almost tired of caring.

  I came with him when I could have run. I came with no fear of the repercussions because whatever he is, he is mine, and I do love him, and clearly that means I still need something he’s offering.

  So I’ll just wait, and I’ll hope he finds his way back to me.

  I’ll wait with Pascal. We’ll wait together.

  THE END

  For more in this whirlwind please search for:

  The Parlour (VDB1) – Charlotte E Hart

  This next Trilogy is a spin off from the White Trilogy told from Pascal Van Der Braack’s POV, along with a new lead lady to bring love to the fore. It is a new dark, erotic, and suspenseful trilogy which tells a new tale, but is also a continuation in some ways, furthering Beth and Alex’s journey to bring finality all round.

  Https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EFRN1JU

  Other Titles by the author

  The Spiral

  ******

  Maddy has only one decision left to make after the final bruise—leave him.

  And she’s doing it. She's finally free.

  H
er own home. Own life. Own decisions.

  There's no-one to answer to anymore.

  But when her job as an antiques moderator leads her to the mysterious Blandenhyme estate and the intriguing Mr. Caldwell, that freedom begins to turn into an unconventional love lost in shadows and fog.

  And as chilling voices whisper words to cloud her judgement, and dangerous liasons bring terror and dread to the fore, she finds herself struggling to survive Blandemhyne's sinister misgivings regardless of its beauty.

  They say the dead never sleep, that they stalk this earth until retribution is served.

  That time has come.

  Standalone. Dark Romance. Spiralling. Thriller.

  Https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07D8W52L4

  *****

  Innocent Eyes

  A Cane Novel

  (Hart De Lune)

  *******

  "If he's gross, I'm bailing."

  That's what I said to my supposed best friend when she asked me to take her place. A blind date, she said. What harm could it do?

  He was charming. Beautiful. God's finest creation. He wined me and dined me. Made me do things I'd never before dreamt of in the bedroom. It was perfect. Dangerous. Arousing.

  But Jenny didn’t tell me the full story. She didn’t tell me about the debt she owed. And now Quinn Cane wants his money's worth, and he’s going to make me pay whatever way he can.

  “A debt needs to be paid.”

  The woman who came to meet me didn’t owe me money. I could tell by her innocent eyes. Still, the debt will be paid either way.