Chapter 18 Christine #2
Raoul turns from the Angel, his lips wet, and he lunges for me.
We collide, kneeling upright on the bed, our bodies seamed together from thighs to lips.
The hot, hard length of him slips into the space between my thighs, slotted against my pussy.
He rocks his hips, and every glide is a tantalizing spiral of pleasure, pushing me higher, closer to the peak.
My head falls back, a gasp of exquisite bliss escaping my mouth. I glance at the Angel, half expecting jealousy, but instead he’s grinning with a lustful malevolence that sends a tingling thrill through my lower belly.
“Lie down, Christine, and open yourself for him,” commands the Angel.
I stretch out on the bed on my back, thighs open. The Angel walks around to the side of the bed, seats himself beside me, and reaches for my breast. When he touches me, the wondering bliss on his face sends another pulse of pleasure through my body.
He sweeps his palm over my breast, then squeezes lightly, almost experimentally.
No wonder he’s a little tentative. I doubt he’s been with anyone since he was put into this human form, and before that, he was imprisoned for centuries.
There’s a cautious glee in his eyes as he explores my breasts, as he leans down to take one of my nipples in his mouth.
Raoul follows his example by burying his face between my legs. At the first strong flick of his tongue over my clit, I squeal breathlessly. “Shit! Oh, shit…”
“That’s right, little poet,” croons the Angel. “Use that clever mouth.”
Two gorgeous men have their mouths on me.
I’ve never experienced such unbearable heights of overstimulation.
It’s fucking exquisite, and it’s a delicious kind of mental relief because I literally cannot think about anything else.
No worries exist in my head. If there is an outside world, its problems cannot touch me.
There is only the Angel’s warm hand cupping the underside of my breast, feeding my nipple into his mouth, while Raoul’s tongue dances and swirls through my pussy.
The delicious torture takes me to my limit faster than I expect. Every surge of pleasure builds on the next, and I gasp with each swelling pulse, sensing the oncoming explosion.
“I’m going to come,” I whimper, my chest heaving beneath the Angel’s tongue.
He lifts his head, slides his hand up my breastbone and around my throat, the lightest of holds. “Come for us, then,” he murmurs. “Come for me.”
Raoul hums against my sex, lashing his tongue deeper, faster, and I come with a violent arch of my spine and a shrill scream that echoes off the walls of the canal room.
The Angel watches me, his eyes ravenous and demanding, his hand still clasping my throat.
During the throes of the orgasm, my fangs emerge for a moment, but I manage to retract them.
Much as I would love to mark both of these men with my fangs and take their blood into myself, I don’t want to ruin our fun by introducing my monstrous side.
I don’t want Raoul to be afraid of me.
As my breathing slows, the Angel leans down and kisses me with a firm possession that makes me shiver with delight.
“You came so fucking well,” he whispers roughly. “While you recover, I’m going to play with the poet.”
I nod, scooting backward and propping myself against the pillows for a better view.
Raoul sits back on his knees and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks infinitely pleased with himself, and rightfully so. He ate me out beautifully.
But he doesn’t have more than a moment to enjoy his triumph, because the Angel catches him by the jaw and says, “Will you trust me?”
Raoul’s throat jerks as he swallows. “Yes?”
“Do you remember what I said to you earlier? That I might tie you up and edge you until you scream?”
Faintly, Raoul says, “Yes.”
“That is the game we will play.” The Angel tilts his masked face aside like a raptor watching prey and trails his fingers down Raoul’s chest. “You are safe. I will not harm you. If you want the game to end, simply say, ‘I’m done.’ Do you understand?”
I can hear Raoul’s heartbeat, quick with fear…
or perhaps excitement. People like us, who have endured terrible things, sometimes have darker needs.
We crave something a little twisted, something to command our minds entirely, to pull us out of ourselves and set us free to enjoy the wildest heights of pleasure.
My head holds so many fantasies I’ve never been able to realize, and perhaps these two beautiful men are the same way.
I sense that this bondage game between Raoul and the Angel is something Raoul secretly craves, and somehow, the Angel knows it.
He makes Raoul stand between the posts at the end of the bed, then ties Raoul’s wrists to the posts so his arms are stretched in a V shape. He fastens Raoul’s ankles, too.
I slide off the sheets and come around to the end of the bed so I can see Raoul’s face. He’s not trapped in a small space, but he can’t escape, and I’m concerned about him having another panic attack. But he seems all right—slightly nervous but mostly excited.
The Angel steps back, surveying his work. Then he goes to a drawer and extracts a small vibrator. It looks exactly like one of my favorites—the one I used the other night, when I suspected a naughty phantom might be watching me.
Raoul trembles when the tiny vibrator begins to buzz, and the Angel’s mouth curves with a pleased smirk.
He slides one hand along Raoul’s dick, lifting it and setting the tip of the little vibrator to the underside.
Raoul squirms and gasps, “Oh god, oh god,” as the Angel strokes him with the device.
After a few seconds of stimulation, the Angel backs off, and Raoul whimpers, his dick bobbing helplessly in midair.
The Angel sets the device aside and steps in, letting his own cock bump against the poet’s. He runs both hands over Raoul’s chest, pinching the nipples lightly, then sealing his mouth to Raoul’s for a long kiss.
Reassured that Raoul is enjoying the experience, I arrange some pillows for myself and sit on the floor, watching them.
The Angel is merciless. He teases Raoul for a full hour, bringing him to the quivering edge of orgasm again and again, only to remove all stimulation and leave him straining for release.
Raoul groans and pleads, but to my surprise, he doesn’t speak the safe phrase.
He knows how exquisite the relief will be when it finally comes.
I have to admit, he’s beautiful like this. His skin gleams with sweat, and every abdominal muscle is taut with desperate need.
The Angel is still hard, too, still suffering, and I’m dripping with desire for them both.
When the Angel moves in close to Raoul and wraps both their cocks in the tunnel of his large hand, I tuck my fingers between my legs, toying with my clit.
My efforts produce a fresh surge of wetness, and both Raoul and the Angel look my way, nostrils flaring. Like they can smell it.
Oh god.
Raoul’s eyes are lust-dazed, bleary, frantic with desire. But the Angel’s gaze shocks me—it’s the violent hunger of a predator who is beyond his own control.
He lunges at me, and I gasp in thrilled fervor, not terror. When he seizes my body and flips me facedown on the floor, among the scattered pillows, I don’t tell him to stop.
It’s like this with me and the Angel—a visceral, animal passion neither of us can resist. And I crave it more deeply than I can express.
I’m on my belly with him behind me, and he drags me closer, pulls my ass up so he can fit himself inside.
Then he begins to move. Not just move—he pounds into me so fast and hard that my whole body jerks with each thrust. It’s the frenzied rut of a monster, a beast unleashed. My breath comes in little frantic bursts. My mind is being jarred loose, my thoughts melted and merged into one endless rhythm.
I’m being brutally fucked from behind by the masked god who stalked me, and I’ve never felt more alive.
Raoul moans, shrill and broken. “Oh god…I’m going to come…”
“Don’t you dare,” snarls the Angel, still fucking me so violently I can’t do anything but make a faint, jagged, moaning sound.
He hitches me higher on his cock, and I gasp as the altered angle stimulates some delicate place deep inside me.
I don’t usually come just from penetration, but I’m about to, right now…
I can feel the pleasure expanding, wider and wider, then tightening in a bright burst, a sparkling cataclysm through my whole body.
The bliss bathes every nerve, every limb, my whole self.
I have never experienced such supreme relief.
I’m sobbing, my pussy squeezing around his cock, and then I feel him come, too, a throbbing heat between my legs. The Angel groans, hauling my ass tighter against his hips and stomach, bottoming out inside me.
He urges every last drop from his body into mine, then drags his thick length out of my center. I collapse, panting, onto one of the pillows. Weak from ecstasy, I still manage to turn my face toward poor Raoul, who somehow managed to hold himself in check while the Angel finished with me.
The Angel walks toward him and touches the underside of Raoul’s dick, right beneath the head. It’s barely a second of contact, but Raoul is so sensitive that he lets out a choked sob.
“Please,” he begs. “Please may I come?”
“Don’t ask me,” says the Angel coolly, tracing a fingertip up the side of Raoul’s cock. “Ask her.”
Raoul’s gaze finds mine. I know he can see things at close range without his glasses—it’s the farther distance he has trouble with—but I move nearer just to be sure he can see me clearly. I’m wobbly on my legs, so I have to grip the bedpost to stay steady as I approach him.
“Poor Raoul,” I murmur. “You’ve been so brave.” I stroke his cheek.
He gives me a faint, exultant smile and whispers, “Please may I come?”
“You may.”
The Angel looks at each of us in turn. Then he bows his masked head and sinks to his knees in front of Raoul.
There’s something painfully intimate and submissive about the position, and I know by Raoul’s sudden inhale that he recognizes it.
This man was once an immortal god—he still possesses more hidden power than Raoul or I could ever imagine—and yet he’s on his knees before the two of us.
He gave Raoul’s pleasure into my hands, and now he is yielding himself as the instrument of that pleasure.
With one hand on Raoul’s shoulder, I place my other hand in the black, wavy hair of the Angel, guiding him.
The Angel wraps his lips around Raoul’s cock, takes it deep in his throat. Raoul cries out, straining, sweating. I press myself close, my bare skin against his, holding him as he comes in the mouth of the Angel.
The Angel’s throat moves, swallowing every drop Raoul gives him. Then he pulls his lips off Raoul’s length and licks it clean, almost lovingly.
But Raoul shudders again, more strongly this time, and a rumbling sound issues from the center of his chest. Pressed against him, naked as I am, I can feel that rumble spreading through his whole frame, vibrating deep into his very bones. Startled, I pull back.
The Angel backs away, too, alarm in his eyes as Raoul wrenches against his restraints. The ropes snap like paper bands, one at a time, while Raoul’s eyes flash a violent neon green.
A bloodcurdling snarl cracks through the air. Shadows and smoke exploding from Raoul’s skin, and when they dissipate, instead of Raoul’s lean male form, there’s a huge, furry, four-legged shape.
A sleek, green-eyed wolf bigger than a Great Dane, with fur as black and glossy as the glimmering water of the canal.