Beauty

Raoul felt her hot lips on his, her breath on his throat warm and soft. All at once he needed her more than ever before, passion building with a strength that almost frightened him. She would be his tonight. "Christine- come with me."

Her lips curled into a smile. What on earth did he have planned? "Raoul-why-"His hand seemed so large as it grasped her own, drawing her down the stairs to the main foyer and into the street, where his carriage waited. Neither saw the shadow following them…

The carriage bumped its way along the cobbled streets of Paris, growing steadily warmer with each shared breath. She squirmed under Raoul's intense sapphire stare, not unlike the emerald gaze that had so captivated her… "Where are you taking me?" she giggled, trying to suppress some nerves.

Raoul said nothing, afraid to frighten her… Wait until she is ready, he warned himself, she is still your little lotte! "It's a surprise, love. " It would spare her, for now… yet she was so tempting, her cheeks flushed as if in passion…

She soon became increasingly aware of how his hand had traveled from her hand and now rested on her thigh, his thumb stroking her gently. A flutter sprang up in her belly-one she recognized…

How easy it would be to take her now, his hand inches from her sweet, wet core. Pushing her back in her seat, he let his lips explore her soft flesh, her cries and warnings ignored in the darkness of his passion.

"Oh!" his lips latched onto the pale flesh of her throat, kissing her wildly, everywhere… The carriage lurched as they tumbled to the floor, his hands stroking her bosom as she clung to his shoulders, her eyes fluttering madly…

At the sound of her cries, the phantom panicked, nearly letting loose from the twisted piece of metal, the only safety from tumbling to the ground in a heap of satin and mutilated flesh. What was the fop doing to her- what was she doing to encourage him, his lust… God above, her had to know! The window was foggy and he had to squint against the wind… he could make out a darkened mass, light glinting off of the golden boy's dandelion hair…She cried out as Raoul's hand slipped under her tight corset to fondle a perfect breast…

"No Raoul! Please… Please…": He sighed and drew his hand back, pausing to kiss her temple. "You needn't be afraid, lotte-I'll be gentle, I promise."Standing with some difficulty, taking a quick glance at the window, he gave a rap to the roof with his knuckles, and the coach rattled to a halt. The door opened with a flourish.

The "House"- or whatever that huge monstrosity of marble and gilded wood was- was warm and cozy, a lounge draped in fur was the destination of choice. The walls a crimson similar to fresh blood, the seats were upholstered in a deep, rich leather. A man's den, she noticed, before he swept her off of her feet. In seconds, her plum-colored cloak was discarded on the black and white marble floor. Before she hardly realized what was happening, he had carried her into a ridiculously opulent bedroom, covered in gilding and azure brocade.

Her breath faltered as he set her down, and immediately began unlacing the back of her corset. Silent agony filled her. A pleasure worse than any pain- every touch tortured her… would he- no, it was too soon… her corset slithered from her slender form and hit the floor with a muffled thud.

A soft gasp fluttered from her lips as his mouth found the back of her throat, his hands cradling her small breasts. "Raoul-I-""Shh… it's alright, little lotte. Wait a moment, and you won't even remember to be frightened. "With a whimper, she felt his hand drift to the small of her back and realized he was as good as his word.

Turning to him slowly, hoping for a semblance of sensuality through her nervous interior, she let her mouth turn to an almost impish smile. She let the pink lace fall from her shoulders, moving ever so slightly to feel it flutter from her collar, down her breast. She giggled nervously as passionate surprise reflected in his eyes.

His breath evaporated with a smile, as he pulled her towards him for a kiss. Her fingers began to play with the buttons of his waistcoat, until he turned her away and unlaced the back of her petticoats. Her breath caught in her throat at the same instant a hand cupped her behind.

"Ohh, you're bad…" Her wanton voice set up a mighty blush in her cheeks as his soft hands caressed her flesh…. Abruptly, she wanted him naked, standing before her- she wanted to see his nakedness… to compare him- to Him…

The window pane would have cracked if he gripped it any harder. How could she? He had offered her the world, had he not? But the boy was handsome. His hands trembled as a tear slipped down an expanse of white porcelain…

"Raoul, please, please- wait…" She couldn't explain the sudden sensation of foreboding that had descended on her mind, not enough to overshadow the lust-but capable of causing discomfort. "I-I…" He was in his shirtsleeves now; deaf to the pleas as he slid the yards of pink silk down her legs-lips met a bare thigh…

She threw her head back at the touch of his hand, the sensations his lips on her skin were creating… yet somewhere, back in the deepest reaches of her conscious, there was a scream of pain. "No, Raoul, please…" Please, my love… My Angel…"Don't ruin… don't do this, please!"

He frowned, and stood slowly. "Are you uncomfortable?""No-no… love, it's…" She swallowed the lump in her throat, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. He opened his arms to her. Why keep him waiting, selfish girl?

"Shh…don't cry, sweetheart-I'll be careful…."His arm supported her legs as he carried her to the brocade hung bed. A feather mattress reached up to embrace her shaking body, as he drew away and began divesting himself of his own clothing.

She watched him, nervous curiosity forcing a peal of giggles from her tongue- God, she needed to calm herself… As his shirt fell to the floor, his muscles were illuminated in all their splendor, and she gasped in mock surprise…. Beautiful, but no comparison to her Angel, with years of hard labor… he was a polished, preened stallion, against a rugged warhorse. Now her curiosity was peaked.

Her fingertips tingled a little, but lay still on the coverlet… there was a soft rustle of fabric as his trousers crumpled to the carpeted floor, the bed groaning under the added weight as he crawled over her carefully. Their torsos brushed with a gasp…

The feeling of naked flesh against naked flesh was too much sensation… she strained to kiss him, his cheek, his lips, his neck. Her hands caressed his –scarless- back, and her legs rubbed their way to lock together at his thighs. Her wet flesh touched something warm, something strange that jumped at the contact. She gasped.

"Try to relax…" His hands caught her hips and lifted her up to him, kissing her lips softly- almost delicately. Christine felt her heart hammering-until something hard tore through her body, bringing stinging agony.

A roar grew in his throat as well as bile, he sight drawing him closer in perverted revulsion. Yet blood rose in his sight as she cried out in pain, her head thrown back on the pillowy mattress, back arched into a half moon. He had to rescue her from that- it must be torture- but no, the torture was too sweet, she looked as if she was quite enjoying herself… He looked away, down at his boots- anywhere but that cursed window… It was then he realized the stinging pain in his hands, and found his hands covered in crimson, splinters of window sash all that was left of the decorative woodwork…

Tears streamed down her flushed face, born of pain and fear, yet she forced a smile for his sake. Raoul stroked her hair and kissed her again, his fingers at her breasts… he seemed to have a fondness for them…

She was perfect, a beautiful angel beneath him, accepting him inside of her like the blessed virgin she was… With aching slowness, he thrust again and again, savoring the feeling of her, sliding tightly around him, squeezing the engorged mass of flesh with every plunge…. His lips were on her breast, his teeth finding soft flesh…

The window rattled as he fought with the last shards of his self control. He had never wanted to kill as he had in this moment-watching that bastard use her like a two franc whore…

She screamed, the sound bursting through her as she writhed, half in pain, half in growing ecstasy as she was lifted from the mattress again and again. Her back arched as she was slammed into the mattress, impaled on him, and he lifted her hips higher, stars bursting in her vision.

"Mmm… that's my good girl…" he murmured into her ear breathily, his fingertip brushing the hard little pearl between her folds."Do you feel good?"

She nodded instinctively, obediently throwing her head back and shrieking as he amused himself, his fingertips playing with her as if she were nothing more than an animated doll. He kept to that exhausting pace, thrust after thrust, aching in her stomach and thighs and she ached for the release of that pressure, that agony that burned and longed for liberation… Plunging… She creamed out in wonderment, in love and ecstasy…

There was blood beneath her. He had made her bleed. The glass in the window cracked.

Christine heard a whimper from somewhere, his lips touching the hollow in her throat. "Ready, sweetheart?" Without waiting for an answer, he brought his finger back between her legs and let it circle that needy little bud once again…

Damn that bastard. He would die tonight. How dare he take what was not rightfully his- to take her, and make her bleed? And she was still bleeding, the fingers between her folds spreading an ooze of the crimson fluid between her ivory flesh… And still, he kept pushing into her, harder, higher… A bellow tore free. Damn it all. The window shattered as he plummeted into the brocaded room.

"Ooh-!" Her fingers clenched in the silk bedcovers as something inside her burst underneath his fingertips, sending her back to earth in hundreds of sparkling fragments- just as an ear-shattering crash cut through the haze of guilty ecstasy. Both of them turned towards the broken window-only to find shards of broken glass, and nothing more.

His chest vibrated with repressed sobs, the cloak and the darkness concealing his body beneath the windowsill. She had looked so beautiful…

"A-angel?" She had screamed his- his title, the only name she had ever known of him…

Raoul looked bewildered for a moment, before kissing her cheek. "Not likely, Lotte- the snow may have turned to hail." Her eyelids fluttered with the aftershocks, and he smiled. He loved her desperately, yet she was still such a little girl…

Outside, the shadow began to catch his breath. She had cried something, at the moment her body had begun to convulse so perfectly… Something that didn't sound like the boy's wretched name… No… It wasn't possible…

"Angel… please…" She looked towards the window, almost pleading for her Angel to hold her…. It had hurt- it had torn her apart, she could still feel the ache… and she felt so guilty for it! The pleasure- that he had denied her… and she wanted- no! It couldn't be-!

"Lotte?" His arms curled around her small form, cuddling her to him as his lips met her cheek. "Does it still hurt?"

With a whimper, she nodded, turning her head from him, assuming a pretense of exhaustion, pretending to slumber… A beautiful pearl of a tear caught the light as it fell from her ivory cheek to the azure brocade. It was enough.

"Damn you!" Crickets screaming, owls hooted, bats fluttered in excitement- all awakened by the agonized roar that tore through the night, transforming the Visconte's bones to ice. The soprano shuddered beneath him, confirming that she was, in fact, very much awake. Raoul's arms tightened around her. "He can't hurt you-I won't let him touch you, not tonight!" Suddenly, his eyes seemed to soften. "Try to forget him, little-"His hands were at her hips again, pushing her flesh towards his own….

"No!" All other noise was cut off by her scream, it echoed in the stillness, devilish, forlorn, alone. He couldn't believe it. After all that had happened that night? After he had given her so much pleasure, held her as she cried- for another man? Yet he could not deny the soft sympathy, the love that tore at his heart as he watched her sad eyes, downcast and hurt beyond repair…

"Angel?" The pearlesque tone sliced through him as no blade ever could. She was still so innocent… so innocent…"You were once my one companion, you were warm and gentle, you, at once, a daughter, lover…. You are ALL THAT MATTERS!" He fell to his knees, a shriek rising into the cold night air.

Realization began to damn on Raoul's battered mind, as he watched tears descend from her dark eyes. With hard gulp, his disengaged himself carefully, before reaching for a flintlock pistol concealed quite ready on the mantelpiece.

"Is that true, Christine? Did you... were you… are you nothing but a whore? Did I mean nothing to you but lust? Do you… do you even want me? Do you even love me? I loved you, damn you! I loved you… and you betrayed me- for a ghost? A GHOST! Christine- you would rather give yourself to a man who doesn't even exist… than to be my… you betrayed me…and you…. You will not…" "No, love, please!..." He laughed at her hysterics. "Don't you call me that, you harlot! You will never hurt me, you will not betray me again, will you, little Lotte? A shot rang out.

Wood splinters showered down on his cloak in the wake of a bullet- the gun cocked, preparing to fire again…"No!" The nobleman found himself pinned to the floor, the air knocked from his lungs as a crushing weight rested his back, strong fingers prizing the pistol from his grasp.

pg. 5