29. Wolfgang
29
WOLFGANG
I focus on the vibration of the music strumming through and then out of me, the violin wailing out a tale fraught with angst and yearning. My fingers move swiftly over the strings, my eyes pressed closed in concentration.
I don’t typically prefer this type of melody, but the twinge in my chest is only growing stronger the more I ignore it, and I don’t know what else to do but play. I’m being driven to insanity, and I’m not quite sure if there’s anyone else to blame but me.
Except—
A prickle at my neck makes me snap my eyes open.
Mercy stands on the opposite side of the water from me, the bathhouse cloaked in darkness, with only a few candles and the silver gleam of the waxing moon outside illuminating the room.
My treacherous heart skips a beat, and I almost start playing off-key. I catch myself just in time and instead start playing even more fervently as I take her in from afar.
Her face is bare, wearing the same short black nightgown and chiffon robe as when the Oracle visited us earlier. It was childish of me to storm out, but I could hardly stand being in the same room as Mercy.
I’m plagued with the thought of her cunt sheathed around my dick. Plagued with the thought of her telling me all the ways she could kill me while still letting me fuck her.
I despise her.
I crave her.
I will have her.
Her eyes reflect the flickering flames of the lit candles, her stare just as ardent as mine. The violin music fills in the silence between us, the air shifting into a living, breathing thing. It growls and moans and begs for attention, but all I can do is watch Mercy.
She undoes her sash. Her movements are deliberately slow. I swallow hard. First falls the robe, fluttering delicately around her bare feet. Then her fingers slide under the thin strap of her nightgown, letting it slip over her shoulder. Then goes the other strap. My throat goes dry. Her eyes burn. A small shimmy of her body. The dress falls. And my violin nearly falters once again.
The sight of her …
If I didn’t know any better I’d think she was the servant of the god of lust for how affected I am right now. Or even my own god of idolatry, for my sudden and blinding need to worship her.
My chest begins to rise and fall faster and faster as I hunger over her naked body. I trace the shape of her with my gaze, the curve of her plump breasts, the smooth lines of her stomach, the swell of her hips, the small crescent moon tattoo near her pubic bone.
She starts for the stairs leading down into the water, never breaking eye contact.
I continue to play, the notes building and building and building.
Step by slow step, the water rises higher up her legs, until she’s covered up to her waist. She glides up to the opposite side from where I’m standing and faces me, leaning her back against the edge. Her gaze darkens when her hand disappears under the water, and by the subtle fall of her mouth and the gentle flutter of her eyelashes, I know exactly what she’s doing.
I experience a sudden and maddening hysteria watching her touch herself in front of me, unable to actually see her fingers, let alone her cunt.
The music stops.
I practically throw the violin across the room in my haste.
Already bare-chested, I tug my pants down, briskly taking them off before storming down the stairs and into the water, now just as naked as Mercy.
Her eyes narrow in challenge as I approach her and although I’m bedeviled by desire I notice the small grin of victory she’s trying to conceal.
She thinks she’s gained power over me.
“You vile little whore,” I can’t help but hiss.
Her laugh is mocking and before I can reach her, she dives and disappears under the water. I slam my fist in the water, splashing myself in the process, but I’m too strung out to care.
She reemerges a few seconds later, at the opposite end of the large bath. My cock hardens as I watch her smooth her hands over her wet slicked hair, breasts bouncing with the movement as water lazily drips over her face, her jaw, her lips.
My muscles coil tight, jaw clenched and teeth grinding.
Her gaze snaps to mine. “What’s wrong, Wolfie?” she says tauntingly as she idly glides through the water. “Displeased to see me in your precious bathhouse?”
The pet name sends an unwanted shiver down my spine, and I begin to slowly approach, my eyes on her like a predator with their prey. “When in these waters, you should be tithing to me , Crèvecoeur,” I say slowly.
She scoffs. “Tithe to you?” she replies, giving the water a small flick of her fingers. “You mean compliment you? Is that really what pleases your god?” Her eyes track my movements while we begin circling each other. She pouts mockingly. “Your bloodline is a farce.”
I bare my teeth, letting out a low growl. “You’re one to speak, you morbid freak.”
She lifts an eyebrow at my attempted jab but acts unbothered, her gaze idly watching her index finger glide back and forth on the surface of the water. Her sparkling eyes lift back up, and I notice the subtle cocksure grin at the very tip of her lips. “Maybe you should tithe to me, instead.”
I grow still, a mere foot away from her, my hand curling around my cock as I begin to slowly stroke the ache away. Her gaze dips down, then flutters back to my face. “Come here, and I will,” I say, my voice deepening with pleasure.
She falls silent for a few slow breaths, her face falling into her usual serious repose. “I don’t trust you,” she finally says.
I chuckle dryly, my head falling back slightly while I continue to stroke my cock under the water. Straightening back up, I pin her with my stare. “What is there to trust, Mercy? That’s not why you came to me tonight, is it?”
Her attention falls back to where the water and my stomach meet, seemingly deliberating her next move. The hard swallow indicates she’s made her decision. Moments later, she glides like a nymph through the water and finally stands in front of me.
“You want me to tithe to you?” I whisper harshly, my balls aching with her proximity.
She studies my face, and her eyes shutter with something I can’t quite place before she finally nods.
I grow still, the silence between us urging for someone to speak, until I finally heed its command. “I’d rather never see my own reflection again, than ever compliment you,” I grit out.
She startles just long enough for me to successfully snap my hand out, grab her by the throat, and dunk her into the water. Her limbs flail as I keep her under, the glee in having her this compromised is incomparable.
When I gauge she’s had enough, I pull her out of the water but keep her firmly in my grasp, my fingers now digging into the flesh of her arms. She gasps, mouth wide open and eyes closed as she tries to swallow down lungfuls of air. It doesn’t take me long to push her down again, but not before she lets out a shriek that makes my cock ache with vicious satisfaction.
Seconds tick by and waves form around us as she thrashes in my arms. I could easily drown her. Have her greet her god with lungs full of water. But as I deliberate, I realize that maybe damnatio memoriae is not what I fear the most, but the fleeting thought that Mercy and I are destined for more.
It makes me want to drown alongside her.
Instead, I pull her back up by the hair and slam her into the edge of the bath. She’s choking, water and spit dribbling down her chin as she gags out the water she must have accidentally swallowed. I use her disorientation to my advantage and press my body against her, my hand firmly around her throat.
“Do you think I’d yet to forget how much of a conniving bitch you are, Crèvecoeur?”
“I’ll gut you alive for this,” she seethes, her eyes burning with hostility, trying but failing to push me off her.
I bring my free hand down to her left thigh. “Oh but where’s your dagger now?” I ask, slotting my thigh between her legs.
She manages to slap me across the face before I wrestle both wrists into my grip, extending her arms above her head, making her arch her back over the edge of the wall. With her new position, her hips press against my throbbing cock while her breasts jut upwards. My gaze dips to her peaked nipples, and we both fall silent, breaths ragged with impassioned exertion.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean down and suck her wet nipple into my mouth. A small gasp tumbles out of her lips and my thoughts evaporate into pure animalistic need. She’s not struggling in my grasp anymore, and I take the opportunity to transfer both wrists into one hand. With her nipple now between my teeth, I slip my cock between her legs, sliding my hard shaft up and down her warm cunt.
Her gasp transforms into a moan, and I press her even harder into the wall at the sound.
“Why didn’t you fuck me when you had the chance?” she asks breathlessly.
Her words surprise me, obviously referring to that night at Manor, but I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything but her wet skin against mine. I let her wrists go, lifting her by the ass and making her wrap her legs around my waist, slamming us back into the wall.
My hands slide over her wet skin and I’m fucking starving. Her fingers coil into my hair at the base of my neck, tugging hard, but I ignore the sting as I slot my cock against her slit and then begin to circle the tip around her clit. With my free hand, I grip the back of her nape and make her look at me.
“You know why.” My voice is pained with need. “ You know why ,” I repeat again, groaning through my teeth while the tip of my cock slides much too close to her entrance.
Her mouth falls open, and I mimic her while her hand slides down to my arm, fingernails digging into my scorching skin. The threads of reason are unraveling and I’m moments away from slamming my cock into her. I can hardly recall the reasons why I shouldn’t.
I thrust her upwards and out of the water, her ass landing on the edge while I push myself out, now desperate to see all of her if I can't have all of her.
I manhandle her body, somehow knowing she’ll let me, and lay her flat on her back against the wet tiles, water sluicing over her skin. I thrust her legs open and give her cunt a long slow lick, growling like a madman as I do so. She lets out a low whine, and I’m blind with greed.
“My ruin,” I breathe against her clit, sucking it into my mouth before straightening back up quickly, bending her knees, and pulling her even closer to me. I catch her gaze in mine while I slowly circle her entrance, soaking the tip of my cock with her arousal. “My terrible demise.”
Her bent legs fall open even wider, her eyes a burning inferno as her hand finds her swollen clit, her face transforming into shocked rapture. “Your downfall,” she moans, voice thick with need.
My eyes slide to her bewitching cunt and watch as I slide the head of my cock inside, letting out a small whimper at the sensation. Her back arches upwards and my thighs begin to shake with the effort it takes not to thrust into her. I wrap a hand around my shaft, the other digging into her hip, and fuck myself while I’m barely sheathed inside.
“Despicable little thing,” I spit while my arousal rises and rises. Anger spilling into aching desire, spilling into the uncontrollable seduction that is Mercy Crèvecoeur. “Look at what you’ve made me do.”
I slap her clit hard, and her breath hitches with need, her eyes trained on me, eyebrows creased in pleasure as I feel her flutter around the head of my cock. I can barely breathe, terrified to move except for the furious pump of my hand. Until I feel the orgasm crest like a deadly wave and slip out, ropes of cum spilling over her fingers and clit while her hand continues to move in hurried circles, merging my arousal with hers.
I’m a mere shell of myself, my psyche shattered into a million little shards. Breathless. Captivated. Enraptured by Mercy’s glistening cunt and the way her back arches even higher when she comes on a long moan.
It only takes a single moment before the glacial silence returns as if she conjured it herself.
She opens her eyes, her hard glare clashing with the rose in her cheeks.
She slaps my hand away from where it is still resting on her thigh and stands up. I remain kneeled at her feet, too stunned to move.
I slowly look up to meet her gaze. Her expression is thoughtful but stern.
“We are both damned,” she says softly, her tone resolute.
She gathers her things, slipping her robe over her naked body, and walks out without another glance my way.