Page 60 of Angel's Kiss
Christine had to laugh. “You have the gall to ask that?” Erik stared in reply. Did he honestly not know? “You kiss me like you did this morning and want to know why I wasdistracted?”
“So it was me,” Erik sighed, infuriatingly obtuse and pathetic.
“Of course it was you! I’ve barely been able to think straight since last night.” Christine’s cheeks heated with the remembrance and it only stoked her anger, as did the way Erik slouched in guilt.
“I should not have been so forward, I—”
“I’m not mad at you for kissing me!” Christine exploded and she didn’t care that Erik winced at the volume of her tone. “I’m mad at you for – for using this power you have over me then casting me away a second later!”
“What?” Erik looked so confused Christine wanted to shake him.
“You undo me, Erik. Don’t you know that?” she demanded. “One moment I know my own mind and what I want, the next I can’t even think. And it makes me furious because nothing has changed! I’m still that foolish girl who begged for an angel to touch her. When you sing, when you kiss me or you command me, I ampowerless. And I hate it.” She was breathing like she had run a mile.
“Christine,” Erik began, a storm in his eyes. “I would never force you, I swear.”
“But you could! You have but to sing the right melody and...” The memory filled her with such desperate rage and need at the same time she wanted to crawl out of her skin with it. “You had me bound and bare under your hands. Twice. I begged for it. You could so easily have me like that again, and you mean to say you won’t?”
“Why do you think I stopped last night?” he asked urgently, coming closer to her, as close as possible without touching. “I stopped so I wouldn’t force you. I still can’t imagine how you could want—” he gestured at his body and then his face. “This. Now that you’ve seen.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Christine snarled, and Erik leveled her with a look that was equal parts challenge and supplication. “I want to decide what I want.”
“Then tell me what you wish and it’s yours,” he said softly, beseeching and contrite. “You hold the power, Christine.”
“Truly?” she demanded in turn, forcing her voice not to shake. “Prove it.”
Erik did not look away from her. Rather, he held her gaze as, slowly, he knelt before her Christine gasped but he did not stop at kneeling. He bent his head low and took up the hem of her robe. His eyes still locked with hers, he kissed the fabric.
“I am your slave, a dog at your feet,” he murmured and bestowed another humble kiss on her hem. “You can do what you will with me. If you will have me, let me show you how I am yours,” he whispered, echoing the prayer she had made to a false angel in the dark.
Christine took a shuddering breath, sure she was a second from fainting. It was only the lingering vestiges of her rage that kept her standing, even as lust tightened around her lungs.
“Stand up,” she ordered, voice shaking. Erik immediately complied, gold eyes still locked with hers.
Christine had never felt more powerful, yet less in control of herself. She wanted to fall right there and give herself entirely to the man who had been her angel, as she had before, when she had bared every inch of her body to her mirror and let a shadow touch her, tie her hands and make her come. She wanted to strangle him and scream that his pretended obedience meant nothing when she stillwantedthat again. Instead she kissed him with all the force she could summon.
Every time they had kissed before had been gentle, full of longing and wonder. This was different. That had been candlelight, this was a bonfire. She yanked Erik to her by his vest, savoring the tentative way his arms encircled her in contrast to the vigor of his mouth on hers. It made the need between her legs scream to life with such ferocity she nearly collapsed.
Christine pushed him towards the couch. She was untamed, hungry, wild. Erik’s calves met the edge and he stumbled backward so the couch caught him. Christine followed him and straddled his lap, trapping him between her legs even as she continued to kiss him, and he moaned against her lips. The sound went straight to her core, and suddenly kissing him wasn’t enough. Her fingers were clumsy as she fumbled at his buttons, but soon enough she’d divested him of his waistcoat and shirt. To her delight his scarred skin was warm under her hands.
Erik’s hands were far more skilled undoing her sash, pushing away her robe, and trailing up to her breasts. He grazed her tight nipples through the fabric of her nightdress and again her desire flared. She still wanted more. She needed friction. So Christine sought it, pressing her hips against the prone body of the man beneath her so that pleasure flew through her. But Erik’s hands swept to her waist, holding her back.
“No,” she ordered, grabbing his wrists and freeing herself from his restraining touch.
“Christine, please,” he gasped as she moved against him again. And then she felt it. The night before she had thought it was in her head when something had moved against her when they pressed close. But there was no mistaking it now. It was his cock she could feel growing hard in his trousers.
“Is this why you ran away?” she asked breathlessly, kissing Erik’s neck and grinding herself against his rising desire. “Were you like this?”
“Yes,” he hissed as she released his wrists and peered into his wide, awestruck eyes.
“Were you hard when you had me before?” She was suddenly drunk on the revelation of whatshecould do tohim.
“Yes,” he gritted out as she continued to move against him, balling his hands into the fabric of her chemise.
“And what did you do? What do you do when you’re like this?” Erik gripped her hips again, slowing her once more, as he bit his lip. “Tell me,” she growled, grabbing his hands and thrusting hard against his groin.
“I touch. I—”
“Make yourself come,” she finished for him, a thousand revelations sparking in her mind. “Have you done that – touched yourself – while I’ve been here?”
