Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  I don’t know what my face is doing because I’m just listening. His beautiful emotions are flowing so freely that I’m captivated by the very sound of each word leaving his gorgeous mouth. And if he expects me to give him anything more than a “yes” then he’s going to be disappointed.

  “Yes.”

  Because it really is all I’ve got. I can’t form coherent thought other than how much I love him, and how much I want to spend every second of my life with him. He gently picks up my hands and pulls them to his neck, caressing his fingers over the back of them as I clasp on to the familiar feel of his skin.

  “No you can’t, baby. You couldn’t possibly because you’re too pure and you’ll never see what you’ve given me, or rather what you take away from me. Those moments in my life that are lacking are blindsided by your hands here. They guide me back and fill me with hope and love and dreams of beauty. They threaten me with thoughts of peace and bliss. Just feeling your fingers brushing across my skin is enough to make me believe I have a chance at redemption.”

  Redemption? My eyes furrow under the scarf. God, that’s a big word. I have no idea what that means. What on earth does he think he’s done? His hands leave mine and I suddenly feel something cold against the skin on my neck. At first my thoughts are with ice but it’s not wet so I frown at the sensation and go to move my own fingers to it.

  “No, don’t let go of me.” Oh. okay. I feel him reaching around behind my neck and realise that he’s clasping something together. I can only assume it’s a necklace of some sort and suddenly my hackles rise, because seriously, if he’s trying to give me another overly priced gift I’m going to kill him, regardless of his extremely lovely words, which have me almost in tears.

  “Do you remember me talking about collaring at the opera?” What? Random. I never did find out what that meant. Is that’s what’s going on here? Given that I’ve got a necklace on, I can only presume that collaring has something to do with having something around your throat because that’s what you put on a dog. Maybe it is. Actually, I’m not happy with that thought at all.

  “Yes, but-” He cuts me off again.

  “Don’t speak.” His mouth brushes against mine oh so softly and I quite literally swoon back into him as I feel his pulse beneath my fingertips. I’m swooning. His tongue, his gentle lips teasing mine open and pulling me towards him, always towards him. Oh god, I’m so in love it’s ridiculous. His arms wrap around me until there’s no room between us anymore and our kiss heats in desire as my body is crushed in tighter to him. All I can feel is his mouth moving against mine seamlessly in a raw exchange of love and adoration, tasting, not even breathing, just feeling and falling deeper until he slows, quietening each stroke of his tongue as he places small, feather-light kisses across my jaw and eventually back away again. His hands return to mine and he pushes them against his skin, rubbing them backwards and forwards over him while linking his fingers with mine and squeezing them together.

  “Collaring is a mutual declaration of commitment and trust between two people. Some would call it a marriage of sorts, the ultimate bond between a dominant and their submissive. It’s a theory I’ve never entertained, never wanted or even thought about.”

  Okay, where the hell is he going with this? Yes, I love him but I’m not being collared or some such shit. This world of his is bizarre enough without me feeling like a puppy as well. There can’t possibly be any sort of equality in that type of thing, can there? Not happening. I’m not entirely happy about the connotation of what I’m wearing on my wrist. Well, actually I’m highly grateful of it in certain situations obviously, but he doesn’t own me outside of that.

  “Alex, I-” His hand covers my mouth again.

  “Elizabeth, do you want me to get some tape?” His voice has suddenly become tense so I rapidly shake my head in response. Absolutely not, although that could be interesting. We haven’t done that yet. “Good. I’m trying to say something and I just need you to listen.” Okay, listening mode on. My mouth opens at the thought of collaring again and I sense the eyebrow rise so I clamp it closed again. Shut up, Beth.

  “I watched a collaring ceremony once, and while it was interesting, I had no appreciation of the love that was in their eyes, or understanding of the bond that they wanted with each other. I remember thinking it odd to want that closeness with someone, to want someone so deep within you that they know everything about who you are and what you might need.” His fingers brush over mine again as his lips meet mine briefly. I’m mesmerised by his words. All thoughts have vanished as I listen to him speak and feel his breath against my cheek. “To feel so tied to a person that you know you don’t even need to speak and they’ll give you what you need, help you to fathom the very depths of yourself and accept you for it.” Oh god, he’s trembling under my fingers. My heart sores to reach him and tell him how much I love him. “I understand that now, baby. You’ve taught me that,” he whispers against my neck. I’m almost crying with joy at hearing the words and suddenly realise that I’m digging my nails into his throat because of the tension in my hands. Quickly sniffing back the tears that are threatening, I loosen my grip on him and wait for more of whatever this utter perfection is. His hands quickly increase the pressure again as if he’s lost without it and needs to remind me that it’s my throat, that it belongs to me, for my hands only.

  “That necklace clasped around you isn’t what you think it is. I could never collar someone like you. You should be free to choose for the rest of your life, to make your decisions about me without restraint simply because you will always make the right choice, the morally decent one.”

  His voice is wavering slightly, full of emotion and barely audible as he heaves in some breaths and becomes silent in front of me. My own throat is catching as I try to think of something to say, but all normality has disappeared. His humility is causing every need in me to rise up to his mouth and show him how much he means to me and what his words are causing inside. All I want to do is lie down and feel his skin against mine so we can undo this morning and move forward into this loveliness that he’s creating. My lips reach for him to show him, but as I touch them, he pulls back.

  “It’s for me, Elizabeth. Those diamonds are symbolic of a collar around me. I’ll never leave you, never let you go and I’ll love and protect you forever if you want me to, just so that you know how perfect you are, so that you understand my commitment to you and feel safe. You had my throat before this moment, but now you have the assurance that you’re in control of it, that you’ll dictate what we need and how we need it.” Oh!

  My head shoots back from where it was and I stare blindly up towards his eyes. What the hell do I say to that? He’s collaring himself so that I can be in control? I don’t even know if I want to be in control, do I? I doubt it, and I definitely don’t want total command over him in any way, although it could clearly be useful in those temper tantrum moments that he has. But what about his own dominance? How’s that going to fit in? And is he suggesting he’s going to be my submissive? Because that’s just ridiculous. Alexander White the submissive? No. This makes no sense at all.

  I have to find something to say here. Unfortunately, the opening and closing of my mouth seems to have no actual language attached to it. I need to get this bloody blindfold off or something because I’m desperate to see his eyes, those wonderful crystalline blue eyes that sear through me and let me know where his mind is at. Is he doing this for him or for me? And why? Eventually my brain to mouth communication line resumes as I let go of his neck and step away from him.

  “Can you take the blindfold off please?” is the first thing that comes out. I’m sure it should possibly be something full of love but I’m so confused by his last words that I can’t formulate how I feel.

  “No, not yet.”

  Right, that’s completely submissive. Clearly that’s not part of the package then and thank God, frankly, because I’m still not entirely happy with this whole dom/sub thing anyway. In the b
edroom is one thing, in the real world? No. Still, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on here.

  “Umm… why not? You’ve just told me I’m in control.”

  “Morally.” What on earth does that mean?

  “Okay, I’ll take it off then.” My fingers reach up to my face.

  “Do not take that off, Elizabeth,” he says quietly in that voice of his that has me trembling instantly. My inner slut leaps at the thought, disabling all coherent thought of confusion, if that’s even possible.

  I halt the progress of my fingers and relax my hands back down to my sides. “You see the difference between morality and indecency is so slight that sometimes the lines blur. Looking at you in that dress in the middle of the room, with silk wrapped around your beautiful eyes makes me want to string you up and fuck you senseless. It also makes me want to kill anyone who dares look at you. The rage it creates is uncontrollable. Is that morally acceptable or indecent?”

  “It sounds bloody fantastic at this moment actually.”

  Well, the fucking senseless bit anyway because frankly, a good bout of that subspace thing would probably do me the world of good and clarify some of this bewilderment. The rage thing, I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about that.

  “And the fact that I want you to feel pain while I do it, that I might want another man involved?”

  My eyebrows furrow behind the silk as I question the ethics behind being bound and dealt pain, and Pascal. Is any of that morally correct or not? It must be if I agree to it, and if he needs it as much as I do then I’m helping him and me, aren’t I? But morally good? I’m not even sure what morality means in these circumstances. Really not sure.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “And given your confusion, do you want to be the one who makes those decisions or me? Do you want to tell me what you need or do you want that option taken from you so that I can make those choices for you?” Oh, that’s better. That I can deal with.

  “You.”

  “Then you’re only morally in control, Elizabeth. In the real world, where decisions are made based on humility and decency, you’ll have control. In my world, where decisions are made on unadulterated desire, on pure instinct and immorality, I am. Can you trust me with that?”

  My brow scrunches again. It can’t be that easy. What about when we don’t agree? Given his clear lack of moral integrity in certain situations, he can’t possibly believe that this will work.

  “But what about those blurred lines?” A small chuckle sounds from across the room.

  “Then we’ll fight for it.” Oh! And then he’s suddenly in front of me, lips lingering over mine and breathing ragged as he nips at my lips. “Because I fucking love you fighting me for it. Always fight me, baby. I love that fire in your eyes when you think you’re right. You have no fucking clue as to how that makes me feel.”

  “Alex I...” I have no idea what I want to say other than to tell him how he’s made me feel. Confused, yes, but to give up his idea of morality to me is overwhelming. Is this his way of me guiding him back to normal, to accepting a more rational existence? It’s certainly his way of opening up to me and showing me how much he needs me, how much he wants me to be there with him every step of the way. My fingers wrap around his neck to pull him closer as his hands draw me into him, those strong arms wrapping around me and making me feel all the things he’s promised, to cherish me, to protect me, to love me forever. “ I love you.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” he responds quietly as he leans his chin on top of my head and unties the blindfold, slowly revealing his open collared shirt to me.

  We stand there swaying a little to our own rhythm for a moment as I stare at that throat and try to process thoughts of a collar around it and what that means to him. Hell, I don’t even know what it means to me but it sure as shit must mean something big to him. He’s Alexander White for God’s sake. My hand moves to my own neck to feel the diamonds linked around it and the familiar feeling of my bracelet assaults my fingers. I don’t even need to look at it to know that it’s the matching piece. It’s not as wide as the bracelet, only two rows, but the vintage cut and strict baguette links are all in the same place. I’m not sure if he expects me to wear it every day like the bracelet, but I probably will because the thought of his collar on me, not matter how confusing, is mind blowing. That I own him, that he’s given that to me with all the connotations involved, is so overwhelming that I can’t help but feel that we’ve made it, that we’ve found a way to achieve a togetherness that no one will ever tear apart.

  A lone tear hits my cheek as I realise, with acute clarity, that he is it for me. There will never be another who even comes close, and nothing will ever come between us again. We’ll learn more and face each other in battle but we’ll fall together and find our way back to each other, to this peace we’re creating right here and now.

  “You’re crying, Elizabeth. That’s not what’s supposed to be happening at the moment,” he says as his chest shakes with amusement against me.

  “I know but I can’t find the words and you’re being all lovely and you’re giving me something so precious and I don’t know what to do with it, and...” I ramble in response into his waistcoat. His fingers lift my chin as he sits in the chair behind him, pulls my stomach towards him and kisses his way across my dress gently. My hands find his hair as he continues up towards my chest.

  “You don’t have to do anything with it. You do enough by touching me. Your hands quieten everything for me, and that you’ll even dare to love me is more than you’ll ever comprehend,” he says as his handsome, softened face looks up at me with a smile and he brushes his fingers over the backs of my thighs. “That’s all you ever need to do. Just keep touching me, because without it, everything else has become pointless.”

  “Okay.”

  There is nothing else that comes out of my mouth, literally nothing. What the hell else am I supposed to say to that?

  “Okay,” he says in reply as we gaze at each other and my smile comes racing back to me at his panty-dropping grin. Moments pass; maybe a sodding eternity passes. I don’t know because I’m so preoccupied by his face leaning against me that all sorts of visions are assaulting me. That’s where babies grow, in there. Will we have children? A beautiful little boy with bright blue eyes who we’ll love together so that I can show him how it should have been. Or a little girl who we can keep protected from all the deviant hands out there and give the world to. His lips graze across the very area again and I sigh in contentment at the thought of family and love and weddings. Is he thinking about these things, too? Perhaps I should ask him about children at some point. We never have talked about it. “I think we need to go and give some money away.”

  Oh, okay, reality check… I’d forgotten about the charity thing going on to be honest but yes, I suppose we do.

  “Right, yes. I just need to sort my face out.”

  “You absolutely do not. Your face is exquisite just the way it is,” he says as he rises up in front of me and cups the side of my face. “What you need to do is put this damned bow tie back on me and then give me the lock to that dress, unless you want me to rip it off you at some point?”

  The thought is tempting to be honest and his wicked smirk and suddenly darkened eyes are only furthering my visions. However, given the fact that it’s not actually mine, it’s perhaps not the best idea.

  “Beg me for it.” His eyebrows almost shoot off his head and I can’t stop the giggle that bursts out of my mouth. “Come on, Alex, I’ve seen you beg. You’re quite good at it, so beg me for it.”

  “If you want me to beg, I will, but not because of this. So just get your pretty arse over here and do this bow tie before I take matters into my own hands, Miss Scott.”

  I shake my head at him and swipe my fingers under my ruined eye make-up as I walk up to him and start the process of tying it around his collar. His small groan at my touch only brightens my smile even more as he runs his fingers over my neckl
ace and grabs my backside roughly. I know exactly where that touch is heading, and much as I’m completely up for it, he’s right, we should be supporting a charity.

  “We don’t have time, Mr. White.” I giggle at him as I finish the tie and smooth over his broad shoulders.

  “Mmm, shame,” he says as he holds his hand out and releases me. “Key?”

  My brow rises at him and I keep walking to the door, because this is quite a good game and he will definitely be begging me by the end of the evening.

  “Negotiation may be required,” I say as I turn the handle and glance back at him over my shoulder. Children may be part of it, frankly. His snort of humour as he walks up to me and slaps my arse really quite harshly only heightens what could be a very interesting evening.

  “Don’t say I didn’t ask nicely, Miss Scott.”

  ~

  Of course the venue is spectacular, and as I hopefully glide around the tables with Belle, trying my hardest to do this interacting thing that she’s so good at, I realise that I’m actually managing it with remarkable success. Something’s shifted. It’s not a game. There’s no manipulation going on or sneakery. I’m just genuinely enjoying being around all these people and their money. Is it because of the diamonds around my neck? Or the implication of them, should I say? It could just be my fourth glass of champagne to be fair.

  I reach my fingers up to touch the cool stones and giggle at the thought - collared, Alexander White collared. Who would have thought it? aAnd by Beth Scott, caterer of all people. It’s bloody ridiculous to be honest, but as my eyes search the room for him and find him talking to a beautiful woman, I have no feelings of jealousy, only love. So I watch him for a moment and try to figure out the meaning of what he’s done this evening as he smiles his fake smile and listens to her rambling on about whatever.