Feeling White

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Feeling White Page 56

by Charlotte E Hart


  Useless, worthless little shit.

  Decent or indecent.

  Sadist.

  He cracked his knuckles and took a step forward as he heard Pascal blow out another breath and then close his eyes.

  “Alex?” she said from the door. No.

  He turned his head slowly to look at her, her hand covering her mouth in shock. Repulsion or some other sentiment was all over her angelic face as she gazed down at Pascal almost in a state of panic at the sight.

  Elizabeth... No.

  Chapter 25

  Elizabeth

  Can’t breathe, can’t breathe...

  R unning, I’m running. I have no sodding idea where I’m running to, but I’m running. What the hell was that?

  What on earth did I just see? I can’t breathe I’m running so fast. I have to get away from them as fast as I can and never look back. Yes, just get away and never have to look at either of them again. That’s the best thing to do, isn’t it?

  What sort of fucked up world does he live in? Okay, he told me that there was more that he had to show me but for Christ’s sake, what the fuck was he about to do?

  His beautiful face was a combination of the calculated rage I saw when he beat that shit up that tried to rape me and those deadened eyes that he had in the Lake District. Unfortunately, horny as hell and primed for something I’d never seen before with eyes full of nothing but cold and distance, he scared me to death. Was he going to somehow mix sex and fighting? And what the hell was Pascal doing on the floor with his arms spread open as if inviting the thought with a smile? The man’s clearly a lunatic.

  Just keep running, Beth. Preferably away from hell and back towards some sort of ray of light that might give me some clarity. Shit, I enjoyed every second of what happened previous to that, revelled in all the emotion that swirled around the room like silk entwining with lust and longed for more. I would have given them anything if they’d asked. I would have given him anything in that moment, my soul, my heart, my body... everything. He owned it all with those eyes and those hands, commanding every single movement from me. But not now, he’s a damned monster or something. I guess his sadistic term was at least honest but I had no clue as to what it actually meant.

  Stupid Beth.

  So I’m still running, heels in my hands, as I give every last piece of energy to my legs to get me to safety or at least some sort of normalcy. I bypassed Andrews at speed so that he couldn’t trap me into seeing the man I love again and ran like wildfire to find a taxi but I haven’t seen one yet. Perhaps if I get to the West End I’ll find one. Swinging my way to the left at the junction, I spy one of the many theatres and increase my pace in the hope that I can get there before he finds me, because he’s searching for me. In fact, I can feel him almost on me already, like he’s seconds behind me and reaching his hands for my throat, refusing to let me go.

  God, I love him. Why has he done this? Why wasn’t I enough for him? Why wasn’t my love enough for him? I put myself in his hands and offered him everything he wanted from me with trust and hope but he’s decimated that now. He wants Pascal, doesn’t he? Why the hell didn’t he admit to it and tell me he was that way inclined? No wonder Pascal’s in love with him. They’ve clearly been together. I’m not competing with that sodding mess. Why would he give me everything, tell me I was his world, his peace and then hide this from me?

  There they are, rows and rows of London Black cabs, looking like gifts sent from above to rescue me from insanity and lead me back into the real world. You know the one where my friends and work reside, normal things. Oh shit, the building. Well he can have that damn thing back. Oh my god, he’s one messed up individual. Why I thought I could understand him or try to fathom a way through his damned twilight zones and preferences is beyond me. This has been building for far too long. I get one step closer to thinking I’ve got a handle on him and them, bam, another new version to deal with. Good god, the man wears a business suit every day and charms the pants of every well-connected landed gentry in the world with that smile but it’s not real, is it? Inside he’s someone that no one knows about, that no one could ever comprehend or tolerate, well, apart from Pascal that is. He seems to want him all the more for his... perversions. Yes, he had a shitty upbringing, and yes, he’s been a bad boy but honestly, does he really think sex and that amount of violence go together appropriately? And was he really thinking about doing that with me?

  A bit of rough, even a bit of rougher, is undeniably core clenching but whatever it was that he was about to do to Pascal is not something that should be happening to me anytime soon, regardless of my infuriating intrigue in the matter. I almost stayed. There was one small part of my brain that had her feet firmly planted on the floor, looking on in and panting in adoration at the vision. It was clearly my inner slut because the moment my actual self preservation kicked in and my feet had taken off, my thighs had screamed in protest treacherously, trying to pretend they couldn’t leave. The last thing I registered was an ear-piercing whistle ringing through the corridors as I launched myself from the door.

  I raise my hand and try that whistling thing as the next taxi pulls up to the front of the queue. I’m still running. There’s people queuing but they better get the hell out of my way because I’m getting in, at speed. In fact, I might even fly into that back door.

  “Hey!” a random woman yells as I shove past her and dive into the back of the cab. If she knew what I just witnessed, she’d feel the same way as I do. Panicked.

  I ramble off the address, hoping Belle’s at home because my bag is in the Bentley. As I slump into the seat, breathing hard, I continue trying desperately to dispel the image from my mind. It’s still the same one replaying over and over again. Alex in what must be his full sadistic dominant mode, eyes narrowed to disturbing depths, shirt clinging to every rippling muscle that seemed eerily still as he watched Pascal like a hawk with that slight snarl of disdain. And him, the bloody idiot, kneeling at his apparent master’s feet in some sort of trance, waiting for... what?

  A horn beeps outside and I swing my head around to see if it’s him but nothing happens so I blow out another shaky breath and relax, well attempt to as I smooth my dress down. Just as the cab begins to move, the car door is wrenched open and I flinch instantly as my head shoots to the left.

  “Out you come, my rose.” Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. “Quite the cheetah, aren’t you?”

  His dastardly fingers reach in and wrap themselves around my ankles so I kick out furiously in the hope of dislodging them. It doesn’t work. Futile isn’t enough of a word.

  “Oi, mate, get off the girl,” my saviour the cabby shouts pathetically from the front. It’s a weak effort to say the least. Pascal’s eyes narrow as he reaches into his pocket and throws a large bundle of cash through the window. The idiot chuckles back and closes the window as if he’s not seen anything. Arsehole.

  “Get off me!” I yell out in the hope that someone else might help me. Unfortunately, the two meaty bouncer-like men standing behind Pascal have scared most of them off to God knows where.

  “Really, my dear, you’ll only excite me. Do I need to gag you?” he says as he yanks my body towards his with a snort of amusement and pulls me from the car with a death grip. I haven’t got a hope. Regardless of how much I’m struggling, he has me easily and is, as he says, probably getting excited by my hostility. Perverted shit. Before I can stamp on his foot and make another run for it, he scoops me up and chucks me across his shoulder as if I was some sort of child to reprimand.

  “Pascal, let go of me. I don’t want this,” I yell out loud as I slam my shoes into his back in the random hope of doing some damage. His bark of laughter does nothing to ease my frustration as he ambles along the street.

  “You have no idea what you want, my dear. Neither does he. We were just achieving a result when you interrupted.” What the hell does that mean? “And your prudish response to that was inadequate, quite unsatisfactory in fact. I had hoped for bet
ter than this.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, put me down!”

  My fear has suddenly turned into seething anger. Not only am I being man-handled but I’m also being humiliated to boot. How dare he? He’s not even Alex for God’s sake, and why hasn’t he come for me anyway? His teeth sink into my arse before I realise what he’s doing and I yelp out in pain at the ferociousness of it.

  “Never foul your mouth with such language unless my cock’s firmly buried inside you,” he says as he launches me into the back of his limousine and climbs in after me. I scramble across to the other side in the hope of opening the door. His amused smirk when I ratchet the handle and nothing happens only fuels my anger.

  “Let me out of the fucking car!”

  He’s across the car so quick that I hardly see it happen. His hands are in my hair and pushing me down onto the floor before I can breathe. Awkwardly forcing me forward until my chest lands on the opposite seat, he kneels behind me and starts to push my dress up my thighs to expose my bare arse to him. With one hand grabbing the back of my neck, he roughly holds me in position by pressing his fingers together tightly and barely allowing me to gasp for air. I struggle around in a bid for freedom but I know it’s useless and for whatever reason I’m not overly scared, just confused by my core clenching reaction and overwhelmingly lost to what the hell it is that’s going on inside my own head.

  I resign myself to the fact that this is going to happen and relax onto the seat, hoping that he’ll go easy on me, hoping that his deviant hands will remember his kind heart and all those emotions that were flying around in his office earlier. Unfortunately, I’m also hoping that his mouth will be on mine soon so that I can feel his passion and erase some of this knee trembling fear.

  His hand wanders over my thighs and up towards my backside, causing me to shake in anticipation of his next move. I have no idea how far he’s about to go or what he’s thinking about. My body heats in response to my thoughts of how much pressure he’ll use, how much he’ll push me, how his hands will move differently to Alex’s, where he’ll enjoy most, how harsh he’ll be with his force. Oh god, I’m panting. Why the hell am I panting? I should be fighting him off. I love Alex. what the hell am I doing? I’m being held down, that’s what. I’m being forced to submit and do exactly what I’m told. Hang on. No, I’m not. In fact, his fingers are actually being quite soft in their meandering all of a sudden.

  “Do you like this, my love?” he says gently as his fingers keep up with their hypnotising rhythm and lull me towards feelings of calm and relaxation. Lips suddenly sweep over my shoulder and soothe my breathing to a more leisurely pace as the car pulls away beneath us. His tongue drags along my collarbone, eliciting all sorts of thoughts while his trousers brush across my skin.

  “Mmm...” It’s pathetic, but I have no idea what’s happening. For all I know, Alex has told him to do this while he takes me back to him, back to God knows what.

  “Yes, appealing, isn’t it, all this beauty and quietness? The infuriating issue is that this...” he says as he hauls me upright by my wrists and slams me into the side of the car with a grunt, “...is just as fascinating.”

  My shoulder recovers from the impact as my wrists scream in agony and his belt comes off. He’s wrapped it around my arms before I’m aware what’s going on and it suddenly occurs to me that I’ve never felt Alex be as hard on me as this while he yanks me wherever he wants. Pure brute strength radiates across my skin as he delivers the first blow across my backside, causing tears to erupt. I gasp out at the pain and try to move away quickly so he shoves me to the floor and leans over me with a sneer as I look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you afraid, my rose?”

  Yes, I suddenly am. Very. I have no clue where the man I know has gone but this isn’t him. His intoxicating green eyes are angry, ferociously so, and his sharp cheekbones only intensify his scowl. I nod rapidly in response and try to back away but he drops to the floor and grabs my throat with a vicious grip as he pushes me back towards the window. I gasp out in protest, just as my heart rate accelerates to the same fever pitch as it does when I drift off to my dreamy place. I can’t even begin to figure out what that means so I look at the floor and wait. “You are so precious, my rose, but your intolerance is fucking disgraceful and should be punished, severely.”

  What?

  As he’s pinning me with one hand, he forces my legs open brutally with his knee until he’s inches from my core and then stills as he presses his thumb into my chin, forcing me to turn my head sideways. My fear level shoots up another notch at the way his sneer is turning into a smile. It’s not one I like or trust. It can only be described as evil and his hold on me is so precise that I know I’ve got no room to manoeuvre. This is clearly Pascal in malevolent mode, in complete control of every sound, every breath, every thought. The bastard knows exactly how to manipulate every second of his time with me and he’s revelling in it. He moves to my ear and whispers soothingly as if calming a scared little rabbit. He’s right. I’m utterly terrified as to what he might do next. Sadly, it seems my inner slut is not threatened at all because she’s still panting with lust, even though my feet are itching to kick him away and run to the safety of Alex’s arms.

  “Are you beginning to understand yet, my rose?” he says as he bites at my neck harshly and rubs his quite blatant arousal into me. My moan of gratitude at his weight and the increased pressure really doesn’t help me understand anything at all. “Do you know how much he restrains himself for you, what he withholds because he loves you? I pale in comparison to him when he embraces himself, my dear. He is more than I could ever be.”

  My eyebrows shoot up at his words as his lips skim over my cheek and find their way to my mouth. Nearly all feelings of fear evaporate as my brain triggers into his words and my body relaxes a little. He’s not trying to hurt me, only to teach me a little more about the man I love, to show me something I don’t understand, and as his kiss rolls over my lips, I moan out again in appreciation of it. Soft, teasing, warm again, I can’t stop my face moving into him as if drawn to potential disaster and relishing it with carefree abandon. It’s utterly ridiculous of me but I don’t even try to stop it.

  “Pascal, I… I don’t understand any of this,” I reply through our mouths as he moves back to look at me, those damned eyes smouldering with lust and aggression. His fingers squeeze a little harder around my throat so I suck in a quick breath as panic rears its irritating head again. He’s clearly just as demented as the man he’s just described, no matter what he’s said and I know, because I’m feeling him with full force.

  “He could break you so easily, my love. You are his perfect dream of pretty flowers and sun-drenched mountains. Imagine betraying that. Imagine his hands wiping away that splendour and replacing it with violence and cruelty. He loves you so desperately, but I’m afraid you can’t give him what he needs and it appears he refuses to take it from you anyway,” he says quietly as he twists my head around and studies my responses to him, which are problematic to say the least. “A man I used to know once said that love confuses all who lie within it. I think he may have been correct in his analysis, my rose.”

  Oh.

  I rapidly search his eyes for some sort of emotion connected to that random statement and find it pouring out of him. The love I saw before is now firmly back in place as his eyes try to convey whatever feeling he has for me, or for Alex. I’m not sure who he’s discussing anymore. And it’s all bloody irrelevant anyway because the man I love wanted to do things with him, things I can’t begin to contemplate or accept, regardless of his strange explanation. If I can’t be what he needs then perhaps he should just take what he wants from Pascal instead, or find someone who can give him what he needs, because while I do love him, I can’t bear the thought of anything more forceful than this. It would be too much. Well, I think it would be. I’m not entirely sure my crotch is agreeing with my decision making process, which to be fair is extremely confused given my current positioning
under Pascal’s hand.

  “But I saw him. He wanted you... He looked at you as he has done me in the past. He wants you,” I stutter in response as he begins to back away, dragging in a long breath and looking perplexed. I have no idea why but my mouth follows him treacherously.

  “He does need me, my rose, but not in the way you might think. He has never wanted that, more is the abominable pity.” There’s a flash of some kind of hurt in his face before he replaces it with mirth and chuckles a little. “So it seems it is time to do this for him. Come, sit.”

  His arms wrap around me as he pulls me up onto the seat and undoes the belt around my arms. Warm hands rub at them to bring the circulation back as he gazes down at them with a frown. My kind Pascal has clearly come out to play again and I throw a small smile at him, hoping to ease his bizarre distress. He’s only trying to help in his own very odd way. Why he couldn’t have just had a conversation is beyond me but then this is Pascal I’m dealing with. Maybe I needed to see this in a different way.

  “You didn’t hurt me too much,” I say as I look up at him and pull my legs up beneath me. He lets go and reaches for the champagne.

  “No? Well I restrained myself somewhat. You are too lovely. I see his confusion now.” My eyebrow arches in response. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think about that. Is it that he’s scared of Alex? Or is it that his feelings are getting the better of him? And where is Alex? Why is it that Pascal’s here anyway?

  “Where is he?” I ask quietly as he passes me a glass of bubbles and I drain the lot rapidly. He instantly swaps glasses with me and refills it.

  “Never inebriate yourself when my fingers are mere inches away. I only have so much self-discipline and you are thoroughly tempting,” is his reply as his very charming and highly dangerous smile engulfs the car again. I relax back into the seat and stare across at him with a soft sigh. Whatever he’s been trying to tell me is still an utter mess in my head and I can’t imagine how anything else is going to make it better now.

 

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