Page 86 of Angel's Flight

“That’s good, yes,” Christine whispered as she knit her hands into his hair.Then yanked, pulling him away.“Now the other.”

Erik obeyed, lavishing the same attention on her other breast, his mind spinning with adoration and hunger.This he knew how to do right, this he wanted to keep more than anything.Even though he didn’t deserve this pleasure.

He pulled back, guilt hitting him like a wave as the boat rocked and jostled them.He had to make himself breathe slowly, and bring himself back.He could do this.

“What do you need?”came Christine’s voice, cutting through the storm.

Erik looked up at her, lost, unable to articulate through his shame that he needed her to see or deny him or...

“I see,” Christine said, a glint in her eye that made Erik’s dizzying thoughts slow.“Lay down, my love.”

Erik obeyed, struggling to take his place on the cabin bed as Christine undressed fully before him.She approached with clear purpose and unbuttoned his shirt, kissing him gently as she did.Soon enough, she had him bare, his belt in her hands.

The sound of the sea faded when she bound his arms above his head.The world softened.His mind stilled.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered and he did.He was at her mercy now, naked and hardening as she stroked him, utterly exposed.

He whimpered when she stopped but received no blow or admonition.Her absence from his side was punishment enough.He kept his eyes closed, ears straining to make out her movements, trying to sense where she was.He heard a clink, then felt heat as she returned.Warmer than before...

Searing, slicing, beautiful pain spread from his chest and he cried out in shock and pleasure, eyes flying open against his will.He looked up to see his Christine smiling, holding the candle she had taken from its holder, poised to drip more hot wax onto his skin.

“Don’t make too much noise.We don’t want to alarm the other passengers,” Christine said with a smirk.“Or must I gag you?”

“No, please,” Erik panted.He hated the idea of being denied the taste of her lips or any other part of her in any way.“I’ll be good.”

“You will,” Christine whispered, and it made his cock throb.With another glorious, devious smile, she tipped the candle, and a stream of hot wax fell on his stomach, burning for an incandescent moment before easing into simple warmth.Erik bit his lips to not cry out from pleasure or pain and earned a nod of approval for his efforts.

Another smile from his love – his lady and mistress and torturer – and more wax dripped onto him, this time on his nipple.The heat was a beautiful agony that made him writhe in his binding before it dissipated into bliss.

“You’re quite lovely like this,” Christine purred, and Erik didn’t fully understand.He did understand what he felt though, the delicious touch of her lips to his skin, close to where the wax now cooled, then the scratch of her nails down his side.He only realized his eyes were closed when he opened them to see her straddle his legs, candle poised and ready above his stomach – or his groin.

He waited, breathless as the heavenly creature who chose to pleasure and punish him nuzzled his dripping cock with her cheek.Was that her next target?He didn’t care.He would submit to anything for her.She tipped the candle and darted out her tongue at the same time, licking him from root to tip as wax dripped onto the juncture of his hips.

It was a herculean effort not to scream at the combination of sensations, but he did it.He was panting now, lost in the mix of desire and hurt, encompassed by heat and care.His vision swam, his heart raced, and yet, he found himself almost floating when she did it again, holding back both his voice and his climax for her.He failed the third time, letting out a long moan as she stroked him, and more wax splashed on his skin, but she only laughed.

She was beautiful above him.So beautiful in her compassion and cruelty as the instrument of Erik’s repentance flickered in her hand.She held it steady even as she maneuvered her body and his cock and began to sink on him, taking him in gradually as wax dripped on him in a steady, slow stream.The heat on his skin and the heat of her around him was pure heaven.He was utterly lost.

“Don’t come,” Christine commanded as his body began to tense.He nodded weakly, forcing himself to breathe as she raised the candle to her lips and blew it out.“I need you first,” she sighed in the darkness as she began to ride him, unrelenting and savage as she chased her pleasure.

“Use me,” Erik moaned back.“Use me and make me good.”

“You are,” Christine whimpered, and he felt her hand between them, where they were joined, adding to her pleasure with frantic speed.“You did so well.You’re so beautiful when you give in and obey.You make me feel so strong and so—” Her voice cracked, body shuddering above him.“Fuck.I...fuck.”

He watched her in the shadows above him, throwing back her head in ecstasy as the climax took her.He had no choice but to follow, shaking and shuddering with her, his mind flying and his heart utterly full.

He drifted in the shadows, his body limp as his heart slowed, untethered from time.It wasn’t sleep, this quiet state of bliss and relaxation; it was something more and less at the same time, and he had no energy left to parse it.At some point, the weight on top of him disappeared, then his hands were unbound, and gentle lips kissed his cheek.There was a cool cloth against his scalded skin, cleaning the wax and making him whole.

The waves rocked them and he found himself in her arms, safe and still.There was no pain or guilt there now.Only her and the sea and the silence.

Calais

Shaya was glad to beon the ferry at last, after long days and sleepless nights.He had tried to rest, of course, but his mind had been overcome with an endless stream of worry.It had taken too long to make arrangements, too long to pack and reassure Darius, his train from Paris had been delayed by a damn cow on the tracks only for the ferry to be canceled for two days straight due to storms.The English Channel wasn’t even that wide!Some madman had swum across it in a rubber suit five years ago!Shaya had been ready to swim it himself, but finally, he was aboard the ferry, under overcast skies, on the way to England.

He found little relief in his mind from his guilt as he walked the deck and stared out over the roiling seas.

How could he have been so stupid to not think they were watching his mail?It was a brilliant tactic, though risky.Shaya himself had employed it in the court of the Shah, where only fools put their plans in writing.Now he and Erik were the fools.He couldn’t imagine the lengths to which Pomeroy and his cohorts had gone to watch what Shaya was writing and to whom, or who they would have had to pay off.No matter the method, the damage was done.

The ferry deck was bustling already, with merchants and travelers alike enjoying the fresh air and chitchatting in English and French.Shaya’s English was passable but rusty.He had never made the trip to the Isles himself, as he shared Erik’s contempt for the English.They were a scourge on Persia and her neighbors, regarding those ancient lands as nothing more than resources to be exploited.Cows to be milked for riches and access, with no regard for their people or history.

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