Page 86 of Angel's Kiss
“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Christine said groggily, rubbing her eyes as she looked up at him. There was not a trace of fear or disgust as she took in the awful sight of his face.
“Why not?” he asked, pushing the loose hair from her face.
“You’re usually gone when I wake up, off to compose or create.”
“I considered it, but I’d rather be here,” Erik confessed. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“Are you worried for me?” Now that she was awake, the sadness had returned to her eyes, settling over her like a fog that Erik wanted nothing more than to dispel.
“Yes. Very much so.” He ran his thumb along her cheek, and the faintest of smiles warmed her face. “I’m going to take care of you today. No lessons. No worries about anything from up there.”
“Who would believe it? The fearsome Opera Ghost clucking over me like a mother hen.”
“You know I came close to being named for a chicken instead of a cat,” Erik said softly, and her smile spread. “I befriended Erik the cat because he was more willing to be caught than the chickens. And he pecked less. But I liked them too.” A soft laugh bubbled in Christine’s throat. “Can you imagine? The fearsome Opera Ghost as you say, with a foul-tempered roster named Olaf as a namesake.”
At that, Christine laughed, truly, the sound as perfect as an aria, as joy brightened her face and Erik’s heart. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“There you are,” Erik said, twining his fingers into her hair. It was bliss when she kissed him, dizzying and perfect as always. He lost himself in it, his mind clouding with love and desire as he let his lips trail down to her jaw, her neck, her ears, and her collarbone.
“Erik,” she sighed as he kissed down her chest, nipping and licking at the tender rise of her breast and taking her nipple into his mouth. “Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he whispered in return, turning his attention to her other breast and making her cry out as he grazed the taught nipple with his teeth. It amazed him, how good it felt to touch and be touched by her. He loved the way she responded to him; how her body arched as her legs spread and he took his place between them. He was growing hard, but that could wait. They had time, all the time in the world, and he was going to take advantage. She was wet and open when his fingers found their way between her folds while his mouth moved past her ribs. He loved her this way, when even the barest touch to her cunt would make her gasp. He loved that the first swipe of his tongue made her buck, her hips chasing him as he teased her. He loved the taste of her, of honey and spice.
“May I make you come, before I fuck you?” he whispered against her thigh, holding her legs open and massaging the soft base of her ass. She made a noise of shock that dissolved into a moan as he lapped at her then pulled back. “Perhaps more than once? And then you’ll finish on my cock, if you like.”
“Yes, oh God,” Christine replied, her voice strangled as Erik set to his task.
He knew what she liked, but his knowledge was hardly comprehensive, and he was, as always, an eager and thorough student. He knew that if he wanted her to come fast, it was a matter of focusing right above her entrance, on the stiff protrusion of nerves that was like a lightning rod for her pleasure. He sucked there and listened to how she keened, noted how when he touched her just right, inside, her hips shuddered and her body would begin to shake as she chased her pleasure. Her breath sped up as she trembled on the edge as he filled her with his fingers and tongue, and imagined how sweet that tightness would feel on his aching cock.
“Erik, please!” she cried. What was she begging for? She had to know by now he’d give her anything. He sped up the ministrations of his tongue in response and there, right there, he’d found it. She arched and shook, riding the waves of the orgasm he drew from her like a perfect crescendo.
“Good,” Erik purred against her belly. “Again.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Christine stammered, but he did not relent. It was easy, bringing her back to that peak, when she was so sensitive that just his tongue inside her made her scream and tremble again. He loved it. He loved the wet stain on his mouth from her arousal, he loved how pliant and boneless she was when he pulled her down the bed and lifted her hips so she could sheath his cock while he knelt on the bed.
“And now, one more,” he commanded as he proceeded to piston into her, rapid and fierce.
“I – I can’t,” she whimpered, but already he could see her signs. Her breasts were flushed, her thighs were a vise around his waist. Her hands were tangled in the sheets and her eyes were shut tight. He was glad of that. He didn’t want her to see him and have the horror of his face taint this moment. All she had to do was feel.
“You can. For me.”
She was so tight around him that he was ready to spill and join her in ecstasy, but the memory of his own face that stayed his pleasure. It was enough to feel her quivering around him as her cries rose in rhythm with his thrusts and he worked his thumb above where he was lost inside her. And then suddenly she was still, her back rising, her breath caught on an inhale.
“Erik,” she gasped as her body undulated in a wild sort of dance, arching and curling back in on herself as her cunt grasped tight on his cock. It was the hardest thing in the world to pull himself from her, to not live in that perfect pleasure, but he managed it just in time. He watched his seed spill over her thighs as ecstasy blurred his vision before he collapsed beside her, the world nothing but pleasure and light and sound.
“Jesus, my ears are ringing from that.”
Erik blinked, pushing up from the mattress. He could hear ringing too. “That’s not your ears.” The rhythmic peal of a bell was unmistakable, now that he was paying some goddamn attention. “Fuck.”
“Erik, what’s that sound?”
“Someone is on the lake. Or in it,” Erik answered as he sprang from the bed. Where the hell were his trousers?
“What do you mean? Who could—”
“It’s the Daroga,” Erik answered and looked to see Christine had gone pale as he tugged on his clothes.
“How do you know?”
