Page 33 of Angel's Mask

“Why? What is wrong?” There was such tenderness in that beautiful, impossible voice. How could she find the words to explain that the same beauty and affection was driving her mad? That it made her desire things that damned her?

“I – I can’t...” she stammered. God, what if she ruined everything?

“Christine.” He said her name in the tone of unquestionable command that made goosebumps ripple over her body. “Tell me why you are scared.” She had no choice but to obey that mesmerizing, intoxicating voice.

“I’m scared of what I feel – of what I cannot stop myself feeling – when I am with you,” she confessed, voice and body tremulous, as she dug her nails into her bare legs. “I know you said love is never a sin but – the things I want – they must be wrong. You are holy and a gift. It has to be a sin to want...more.”

For an agonizing moment, her angel was silent, and Christine felt as if she might die right there.

“I have told you once today that what mortals think they know of things like me is often wrong. There is no wickedness in you, I know it. Now tell me, what more do you wish from me, Christine?” he asked at last, each word careful and powerful. A new shiver passed through her as she stared into the dark, imagining she could see the glint of his eyes. Carefully, she unfurled herself, her nipples tightening beneath the worn fabric of her chemise as she rose on her knees, kneeling in supplication.

“I want to give myself to you in every way,” she whispered. “Ways I can’t even imagine or understand. I want to be yours, entirely. My voice. My soul...and my body. I don’t know how that can be, but I want that more than anything.”

There it was: the confession that would either damn her or finally set her free.

“And do you know what I want?” the Angel asked, voice low.

She froze, terrified of giving the wrong answer. “I can’t presume—”

“I would delight in your pleasure, Christine, and I treasure your desire. And what I want is simply your surrender to me alone.” Christine bit back a moan, her body once again igniting at his words. “Do you think it is a sin, to surrender to me?”

“No,” she breathed, “never.” She could barely contain her joy at his confession. It was unthinkable and insane, but it was real. He was offering her the very thing she had so feared to ask from him. “My angel, what I wish to give you...Perhaps it is not a sin if you command it.”

“Then let me command you.” Each word made her skin feel hotter and tighter, and the arousal between her thighs even more desperate. “First, let me see you, my Christine. All of you.”

She obeyed without hesitation, pulling off her chemise too quickly and then taking more time as she released herself from her drawers. She savored the weight of his gaze over the entirety of her bare body and just that made her swoon.

“Lie back and close your eyes,” her angel ordered and again, she instantly complied. It was like falling back and out of herself into someplace warm and welcoming, and her mind stilled into the perfect calm of surrender. “Spread your legs.”

She whimpered and obeyed, her body shuddering at the obscenity of it. Even in the bath before, she hadn’t shown himthis. But now her thighs parted without question or resistance, and she let him see. Entirely and absolutely.

“You’re so beautiful, my Christine,” he said, and his voice was ecstatic. “You have no idea.”

She grasped at the sheets below her, her breath coming fast and shallow as her body screamed in need. “Angel...” she begged. “Tell me what do. Please, let me be yours.”

“Touch yourself, your breasts first,” he commanded, soft and urgent. She needed no more prompting. Her hands flew her aching breasts, catching her stiff nipples between her fingers as she kneaded and let out a moan. “Let your hands be my hands. Give yourself to me.”

Her hands were hot as they moved over her skin, chasing pleasure that continued to scamper just out of reach. She writhed on the bed as they drifted lower, to her ribs and then her stomach. To the utter edge.

“Lower,” her teacher instructed. “Don’t be afraid. Give me everything.”

And then her angel began to sing.

“Yes...” she sighed as the song swept over her. It was another love song in an unknown language, but there was unquestionable desire and danger in the lilting melody. It encircled her like a snake, driving the last shreds of shame and rationality from her mind. His voice seeped into her ears and under her skin, and she let her hand move without thought, as if he truly was moving it for her. Her fingers raked through hair that was both silken and coarse. Then at last, she touched her sex without fear. The pleasure that flew through her was almost too much to bear.

Christine gasped at the feeling, her hips moving of their own accord. As she explored, each note of his song enticed her to more. She was wet, slick with arousal between the hot folds and every movement of her fingers brought new sensation and pleasure. The melody became more urgent as she moved her hand faster, focusing on a spot above her opening that sent lightning bolts of delight through her as she rubbed, thrusting her hips to meet her hand.

“Oh my god,my angel,” the obscene prayer hissed from her lips, the only words adequate for this moment, and the last ones she could manage before her voice broke into a series of gasps and cries, rising in counterpoint to her angel’s ecstatic song. Her breath raced and her muscles stiffened as she continued to chase that unknown thing. But now it wasn’t unknown. It was music. It was allmusic, and she was a chord unresolved, a melody trying to find home. His song and her hands that were also his hands were the whole world. She was helpless to the pleasure cascading through her by her angel’s power.

His voice rose to a peak, compelling her, calling her. She didn’t know what the words meant, and yet, she understood their command: to trust him and be his. That was all that mattered. And she did. She was. And suddenly, the world stopped. There was only her body and the sound of his voice and a glimpse of heaven. She convulsed, her back flying off the bed as the little death took her, ecstasy pulsing through her from her very core.

After what felt like forever and yet not long enough, Christine fell back onto the bed, breathless and giddy. She knew what Julianne meant now, that she’d know it when she arrived at that special place. She wanted to laugh, but more than that, she wanted to listen to his voice and linger. The song was gentler now, not urgent, and she let it overtake her. She pulled a blanket over her bare skin and let herself drift, awash in love and wonder. His.

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Erik had no idea whereto run, just that hehadto run. He had meant to be strong for once and instead he had obliterated every remaining shred of decency in his depraved soul. But, gods above and below, he could not even bring himself to regret it. Watching Christine bring herself to orgasm with the help of his voice – at hiscommand– had been the most sensual moment of his entire cursed life. He’d barely needed to graze his cock to come himself as he watched her sleep, peaceful and sated.

The moments after his own climax, panting in the dark, had been blissful. For a few seconds, he had forgotten who he was and why he needed to hide in the shadows to even be close to someone like her. The return to reality had been brutal. So here he was: running.

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