Christine bit back a sharp wail as, with a sudden lunge, his fingers sank home. She rolled her head, eyes tightly closed, panting sharply in a mix of anticipation and fear. And she'd thought she'd felt passion before she'd heard his Don Juan. 'It burns,' he'd said. What she felt now made her ashamed that she'd ever resisted his power- this was so perfect, so right... Oh, no music could ever feel like this! ...yet at the same time so very wrong.
She fell back beneath the weight without resisting, her heartbeat rising to choke her as she struggled for breath. Burning fingers shoved the yards of rustling fabric aside almost roughly, tearing the delicate lace when it stood in the way. At last... thank God... The young woman found nothing blasphemous in calling on the divine being as slender fingers, hesitant for only a moment, first brushed her tender, moist flesh then made it their own. The press firm, insistent at first, drew a soft impassioned cry from her lips before the stroking tips eased, teasing.
So much for attempting to hold back- it was far beyond the moment where she should have stopped this, and now she was incapable of resisting even had she wished to. As she glanced up to his face through the veil of her tousled hair, the lambent glow of his golden eyes scorched her - clearly he took as much pleasure in the delirious sensations running through her taut body as she did. The patterned stroking of his fingers slowed slightly as his eyes narrowed, trained on her face. She made a small cry, fearing he meant to stop, then closed her eyes again rapturously as the rhythmic pattern picked up again, heightening.
His eyes never leaving her flushed face, his own breathing as hot and ragged as her own, he could not have stopped now even if he had wanted to. As she writhed sensuously beneath the touch of those burning hands, no longer even attempting to keep control of her escalating desire, he thought she had never been more beautiful. Her back arching, another impassioned moan issued from between her moist lips: his name laced with the gasped breath. "Erik!"
He groaned deeply. Fingers shuddered upon pliant, heated skin. Tense hips rolled, and the weight between her thighs became almost unbearable. "Erik... Erik please..." How could he deny such whimpered desperation? Fingers continued their steady dance, drawing away to manipulate the cloth, exposing the flesh beneath. There was an agonizing lull, one that drew a soft whine from her throat as her senses screamed with frustration, then all at once he poured over her in a rolling crescendo that left her breathless. Their voices combined, his a deeper, growling lilt compared to her gasping cry, drawn to a sharp staccato with every pulsing thrust. She writhed upon the Persian carpeting, wanting to escape, yet at the same time longing to be consumed his elemental heat, his undeniable passion. painful, enthralling.
"Christine..." he hissed, the sound echoing within her ears, mingling with the music that was his voice. She arched deeply, her fingers finding firm skin and sinking deep, leaving half moons cut into the pale flesh. Her head drew to the left, her hair covering her face from that soul-searing gaze, and helplessly she sank within the swelling tide. Dizzied, her fingers sought out the depths of thick strands and she pulled, drawing a heavy groan into the air, that pleasurable pain enough to heighten the bucking cant of hips. Shuddering, he closed his eyes, the grasp he held upon her tight still and with a pass of molten breath he broke the rhythm.
"Don't stop! Oh God don't stop!" she cried, her fingers again finding searing skin and embedding deeply. Unabashedly, she raised her hips, meeting the resisting weight, enticing him to continue, and with a low pitched growl from his throat the euphoric pleasure found her again, wrapping her in a blanket and making her ears ring with a music she swore that only she could hear. The weight of her eyelids seemed heavy as she cracked them open again; finding his own impassioned gaze, she stiffened, her back arching harshly as his rhythm again changed - an unrelenting tempo that left her cheeks warm and wet with the salty lick of tears. She writhed against pinning hands, her groans becoming wordless entreaties, entwining erotically with his own - then silence as her breath caught.
Colors cast a brilliant burst before her eyes and she felt as if she were falling, sinking deeply in all that he was, an abyss from which she had no chance - no desire! - to escape. Just when she hit the bottom, she was wrenched up again and left floating. Legs twined, and though it shot white-hot sparks through her core, she continued the steady rocking of her hips, drawing him into its rolling caress toward a shattering climax, leaving him shivering, his arms clasped around his stomach, his body hunched deeply over the keys before him. Now all was quiet, the heavy silence broken only by their combined breathing.
Don Juan had indeed triumphed, revealing to her just how deeply the music could burn.
A minute ticked by, then another before he finally cracked open his eyes to stare at the keys - those evil, betraying keys - then his golden gaze shifted over to her. She lay motionless upon the floor, her hair fanned out, damp with her sweat and clinging to her flushed cheeks. She moaned low within her throat, just the weight of his eyes enough to draw a reaction. The ruffles of her dress were draped across her upper legs, buckling in an inverse V toward her thighs, her modesty maintained only by her concealing hand. She didn't move it. She didn't move at all. Her every breath was agony as it tore through her lungs, her breasts heaving raggedly, restricted by her white gown. She had succumbed to him, even if only in her mind.
The spell had been broken, and now she was reluctant to drift back to reality.
