Page 62 of Angel's Kiss
The moans Christine let out as Erik licked and sucked at her came from some deep cavern of animal desire, as did the way she found herself moving her hips. He held her loosely as she thrust towards his mouth, chasing the waves of pure pleasure his attentions elicited. She was his instrument and he was drawing music from her like never before.
“Yes, dear God, yes, there,” she heard herself babbling between cries. “More. Please. More.” He obeyed and she gripped the sheet in complete bliss as his long, perfect fingers filled her, matching the rhythm of his tongue and lips.
She felt the climax approaching, building deep within her from the place he touched. She felt it shaking her, overcoming her, subsuming her in pleasure and ecstasy like thunder. For days she had been a clenched fist, a coiled spring, a cocked gun. And at last, as Erik hummed and lapped between her thighs, she let go. She let the orgasm take her and came with a long, guttural scream like she had never let out before. For a glorious moment, she was entirely free.
She floated, her mind clear and calm at last, simply a wave on a sea of contentment. Erik collapse beside her, his ragged breath slowing. It was so simple to roll herself to him, curl against his chest, and pull a blanket around them,
“I—” Erik began, but she raised a hand to silence him.
“Stay with me, just stay with me,” she ordered. He relaxed again as she settled herself under his arm and listened to the slowing beat of his heart. “Sing to me. Sing me to sleep.”
“As my lady commands,” he murmured, and in the quiet dark beneath the Opera, her angel’s voice rose and surrounded her.
––––––––
Shaya felt the painbefore he even opened his eyes, screaming from the back of his head and possibly other places as well. He was in a bed. At least, it felt like a bed, and he was dry and warm. The last time he had awoken he’d been cold. Where had he been?
“Don’t even try to move,” Darius’s voice cut through the pain and Shaya winced at the sound. He dared to open his eyes, despite the warning, and the light was blinding.
“How did I...” Shaya mumbled, his mind still swimming. He remembered a street. A gun. And a man.
“The doctor said you’d be confused for a while, maybe even a few days,” Darius replied as Shaya finally focused on the other man’s concerned face above him. “So I won’t fault you for asking that for the third time.”
“What?” Shaya would have been alarmed to know he couldn’t remember asking this all before, but his head hurt too much.
“Concussion, he said it was, and a bad one. Cost us ten francs for that information, and I could have told you that,” Darius grumbled as he went in and out of focus. “What he couldn’t tell me, nor could the police, was what you were doing knocked out in the street, nearly frozen to death.”
“Who found me?” Shaya asked back.
“Alonzo. He’s a stagehand. You were near the Opera.” Darius sighed as Shaya struggled to sit up and came to his aid. “Was it him? The monster?”
“No, it was one of his enemies,” Shaya replied, the encounter with Buquet finally coming back to him. “He thought I was Erik’s agent or friend.”
“And he nearly killed you for it,” Darius snapped, ever the mother hen.
Shaya rubbed his forehead, as if it would make the throbbing fog in his brain dissipate. “At least that gives me some hope.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wants revenge on Erik and I told him exactly how to get it. Maybe he’ll be successful.” Shaya laughed to himself at the idea. “Though I doubt it.”
“Well you won’t be seeing him or the fiend anytime soon; you’re on bedrest for the week.”
Shaya rose in consternation. “I don’t need to be on—” A wave of dizziness took the words from his mouth. “Damnit,” he hissed as he fell back in the bed.
“Rest, sir. Get some rest and know that others have taken up the cause.”
“Ha.” Shaya shut his eyes on the headache. “The fool doesn’t even know the worst the monster is capable of.”
He heard Darius’s low sigh and dared to look at his old servant and friend. He was not prepared for the sorrow in Darius’s brown eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you were wrong to let him live. I know you believed it was the honorable thing to do but—”
“He saved my life,” Shaya muttered, the memory more painful than his injury.
“And he cost your brother his,” Darius shot back, and Shaya turned away from him as well he could.
“I’ve told you not to speak of him,” Shaya whispered.
“You could have avenged him years ago. And yet here we are,” Darius shot back.
