Page 73 of Angel's Kiss
Erik was faintly aware of the click of the door shutting again, and the loss of the light, but all that truly mattered was Christine’s desperate embrace that refused to release him. “Where is your room?” he managed to ask as he drew back for breath. Christine grabbed him quickly and pulled him by the wrist through the dark parlor to her door.
Her room was dark, with no illumination but the faint orange glow of the gaslights on the street outside through her thin curtains. Erik had no time to examine what little he could see because as soon as the door shut behind them, Christine was in his arms again, tearing away his mask.
It was so much better to kiss her without it, so good that he barely noticed her pulling off his hat, scarf, and cloak. Hers had been discarded too, it seemed, for he felt the bare skin of her back and shoulders as he embraced her. She tore away her white gloves clumsily between them and then set to Erik’s tie and top buttons with shaking hands. In shock and horror, Erik jumped back, catching Christine by the wrists and holding her at bay.
“What are you – what are we doing?” he asked, breathless. He could barely make out her face in the amber-tinged dark, but he could see the anguish in her eyes.
“You have to keep going. You have to keep touching me,” Christine pled. “I’ll die if you stop.”
“Christine, I—” He was shaking too, he realized.
“It makes it all stop, when you touch me,” she went on, batting Erik’s hands away and resuming her task before silencing his protests with a fresh, starving kiss.
In seconds his tie was cast aside, and she had undone his top buttons, her mouth following close behind her fingers, kissing his exposed skin and making him gasp. It was madness, he knew it, to give in to his lust now, but she was right. Nothing else mattered when they touched.
He helped her tear off his jacket, his vest, and his shirt, leaving him with nothing but the bandage she had given him to conceal his scars. He devoured her neck as he undid the buttons and laces down her back. He had done this before – undressed her – but never in such darkness and never with such need and urgency between them. Bodice, skirt, corset, chemise; he divested her of them all, kissing and groping each exposed swath of skin as he did.
Finally she was bare for him, and he lifted her to his arms, caring for nothing else in the world but the way she wrapped around him. He was hard and he knew she could feel it as he laid her down beneath him so he could gain one second of relief rutting against her. He reached between her legs, savoring how she cried and arched against him as his fingers dipped into her molten heat.
“Erik, please, I need...” she whimpered. “You have to...”
“Tell me,” he panted, pushing deeper as she writhed. “Tell me what you need.”
“Fuck me.”
Erik froze above her, braced on the bed, trying to find her eyes in the dark. “Christine, you can’t want that.”
“I do. I need you. I need you more than anything right now,” she murmured, her voice thick as if she was weeping again. Before Erik could protest, she pushed him, flipping their position so that it was he who was prone on the bed as she began to unfasten his trousers, kissing gently at his bandaged wound. “I don’t care about a curse. I’m already damned,”
“Don’t say that,” Erik groaned as his cock sprang free and Christine discarded the last of Erik’s clothes to the floor. “You’re good. You’re—” Christine stopped him with another kiss, firm and deep. He could taste her tears though; he could feel them against his bare cheek when she pressed her face against his. Or perhaps they were his.
“I don’t know what I am, not anymore,” she confessed. “But tonight, please let me be yours.”
“Mine,” Erik sighed as his resolve crumbled at the feel of her hand stroking his cock, sending torrents of pleasure and desire through him. In the dark she was his. “You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”
She straddled him, fully in control and command, her thighs soft and hot against his hips. Her hand was steady now, spreading wetness from the crown of his cock, sending lighting through his blood before she rose and guided him to her slick entrance. He held his breath in amazement, half-sure this was a dream. But it was too real as she took him inside her.
It was slow, so agonizingly slow and perfect and good as she lowered herself, taking in his girth one careful centimeter at a time. She moaned as she sank down and Erik forgot how to breathe as her heat enveloped him. This was nothing like any time before. It had never felt so right and so heavenly. It had never made him feel so like his heart was ready to explode with love and regret and desire. At last she stopped, and he was fully within her, ready to die from the warmth. But he didn’t. Not yet. Rather, he gasped and groaned as she began to move. If there was something beyond heaven, now he was there.
“Is – Is this right?” Christine panted, her hips slowly finding their rhythm.
“God yes,” he managed to respond. Above him she was barely a shadow, and he reached up to touch her, cupping her breasts as he watched her outline move against the hazy dark. That made her cry and he loved it. He loved the feel of her, the wet slide and tightening of her cunt as she rode him. He loved her strangled exclamations as his hands moved to the place where they were joined, finding the sensitive, hidden nub that made her quiver and keen.
“Yes, there, please, oh God, Erik, please,” she chanted, her hips increasing in speed as Erik thrust up into her while trapped beneath her. She doubled over with another cry that was lost as she kissed him, hungry and feral, her hands in his hair.
He wanted to speak. He wanted to say how he loved her. He wanted to beg her mercy for what he had done to her, for how he had defiled her and clouded her light. But there were no words, there was nothing but his body screaming in pleasure and her body tight and tense around his. There was only this. But he wanted more.
Erik flipped them this time, animal instinct taking over, and Christine’s legs wrapped around his waist. Finally free, he did what she had commanded and fucked. He drove into her, hard and fast and deep so that she whimpered and gasped with each thrust, her flimsy old bed trembling with the force. She looked up at him, and he was so glad of the dark that concealed his face. He could see her eyes, like onyx, reflecting back the meager light. Could she see his glowing back at her? Could she see the fear and the awe?
He wanted to speak, but there were no words for this. There was barely music that could express the depth of how it felt to be lost in her arms, to give her this, to hold her like an anchor as the storms of grief and pleasure tossed her on their rough waves. His pleasure was spinning to a peak, he could feel it, but with all his might he kept himself in check, even as Christine’s body stiffened, and her cunt tightened around him in the most sublime way.
“Let go,” he whispered, eyes on her in the dark. “Let go, my love.”
And at his words, Christine came. She gave a raw, unbridled scream as her climax took her, convulsing in pleasure beneath him. With his last shred of sanity, Erik grabbed tight at the base of his cock as she spasmed in ecstasy around him, threatening to make him explode. He fucked her through her pleasure, as long as he could, and she cried out as he withdrew.
He slid his cock against the juncture of her hip and thigh, blindly rutting against her. In a breath, the orgasm claimed him with more force and pleasure than any before. He managed to open his eyes and look down at her as he spilled over her belly in a hot flood.
The fog of pleasure held him for an incandescent moment, receding slowly as they caught their breath. He was still poised above her, unable to see her beauty with his eyes but it was just as magnificent to trace her moist cheeks with the pad of this thumb.
