I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations. I don't know why, but I had such a hard time writing this chapter. My brain was just not working! Anywho, here you go. Another chapter won't come for a while because I am suuuuuuuuper busy, but I wanted to put this one out because it was finished. Thank you to everyone who is following along!
Warning: Spicy ;)
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Chapter 19-Nectar
He was dead. That was the only logical explanation for Christine's answer. There was little possibility that she would truly want his face between her thighs nor was it feasible that such a gift would be bestowed upon him. Perhaps the god that had forgiven him was granting him a blessing; one he would be a fool to decline.
"Christine, do you–do you really mean it?" He wet his lips at the remembrance of the sweet nectar he had pulled from her during their first union. It had been delicious and ever since then, he had yearned for more than just a single taste.
His wife shielded her face with her forearm and a roseate blush enveloped her fair skin. "Please don't feel obligated to do so. It was selfish of me to even think of it," she murmured, her soft voice making his heart thump wildly.
Selfish? Oh, no, it should be him who was being called selfish. He should have known to ask and in truth, he should have done so long ago. In the midst of his worry that she would be disgusted by the act, he had neglected the idea that she would truly want it.
Erik forced her arm away from her face to reveal her glossy eyes and trembling lower lip. With as much gentility as he could muster, he said, "You are not selfish, my love. Please, don't think that."
"Oh, but I'm lecherous, Erik. It's improper for me to want that from you," she whispered unsteadily.
"No, no not at all. As your husband, I am fully at your service, whatever you ask of me will be done," he assured her. He feared she would change her mind and tell him to leave the topic be but he couldn't allow her to. He needed her to permit him to please her. "I need a yes, my love."
Please say yes.
Christine hugged herself to him and buried her face into his chest. "Please don't think less of me. Promise me you won't?"
"I promise," he said without hesitation.
She kissed the bare skin of his chest through the V in his shirt and nodded. "Yes, I–I want you to kiss me...there."
Erik couldn't help the deep tremble that came over him. He was finally going to taste her and he was ecstatic. But first was the matter of her gown. He couldn't please her if she was wearing it and by god, he didn't even know how the contraption worked. She would need to do it herself which meant being allowed to watch her undress. With a sly smile, he slowly removed himself from over her and rose to his feet, leaving her splayed out on the bed.
"Stand," he commanded.
She immediately obeyed, clasping her hands in front of her as she shifted from foot to foot.
Erik moved to the lone chair in the room and sank into the cushion, leaning back and crossing his ankle over his knee. His eyes greedily grazed over every inch of her skin. She was devastatingly beautiful in her state of dress and he nearly wanted to ask her if he could simply gaze upon her for the rest of the night, but the thought of what she desired muddled the idea from his mind.
"Remove your gown. Slowly," he directed, shifting from the discomfort of how tight his trousers were becoming.
Christine hesitated for a moment before sliding her fingers along her bodice to find the hem of her robe. She gingerly removed it, allowing it to pool the floor around her stockinged feet. Her eyes connected with his and she trailed her fingers very slowly from her hips up to the top button of her bodice. It was a purposeful act, he had no doubt about it, and it sent a harsh shiver up his spine.
His erection strained far too much against the confines of his trousers, so he slowly slid his hand down to adjust himself. A breath caught in his throat when he felt just how hard he actually was and he couldn't help but start palming himself through the thick fabric to lessen some of the pain. It had been quite a while since he touched himself and usually he was flooded with shame as he did so, but as he sat watching Christine undress, the only thing he felt was gratification.
Christine's gaze dropped to his lap and at the realization of what he was doing, her breaths became ragged and her fingers stopped working on the top button of her bodice.
"I do not recall permitting you to stop," he scolded. The corner of his mouth twitched as he attempted to maintain a guise of stoicism. He continued massaging himself while trying to regain control over his unsteady breathing, hoping that Christine couldn't hear how much he was struggling.
Her ravenous eyes flickered back up to his and she wet her lips before she continued, unclasping each of the tiny buttons until she reached her navel. The fabric fell from her skin, revealing her rounded breasts and pale abdomen. His length twitched at the sight and he let out a breathy sigh at the thought of taking one of her nipples between his fingers.
Christine shimmied the rest of the fabric past her hips and it joined the robe. Before him was his wife, clad only in lacy white stockings held in place by ivory garters. She reached down and started loosening one of the ribbons, but he stopped her.
"Leave them and come sit on my lap."
Again, she obeyed and he cradled her against his chest. Her lithe legs were propped up on the arm of the chair and he couldn't help but trail his fingers up her calf and to her inner thigh. She quivered under his touch and threw her head back into his shoulder, spreading her legs.
"Please," she whimpered, wetting her lips.
Erik chuckled and dipped his hand closer to her heat, purring in her ear, "Tell me what you want, my wife."
"Touch me. Please touch me!" she cried, gripping his forearm and bucking wildly against him.
With a deft hand, he drew a single finger up her warm slit. She was dripping with desire and he was certain that if he lacked any sense of self-control, he would bury himself inside of her right then and there. But, he needed to give her what they both desired before seeking his own pleasure.
"I am going to take you to bed," he whispered, looping his arm under the backside of her knees.
Christine nodded quickly and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her as he stood and walked her over to the bed, gently laying her down on the scarlet coverlet. She started scooting upwards, but he grasped her ankles and pulled her back to the edge. He bit back laughter when she yelped, and kneeled down in front of her.
Her thighs were clasped together and when Erik placed his hands on her knees, he felt the tremor of her legs. He tried to ease them apart, but they were stiffly held in place.
"Let me in, my love," he whispered against her skin, hoping that she wasn't changing her mind.
Once again, he attempted to part her legs and was pleased when she allowed it. He spread her open while trailing his fingers down her inner thighs, straight to her sex which sat ready to be devoured. He leaned forward, capturing the sweet aroma in his nostrils while his mouth watered from the promise of finally having his hunger sated.
He planted wet hot kisses across her hips before adjusting back on his heels and grasping the base of her thighs. Using his thumbs, he gently opened her folds, eliciting sharp gasps and shivers from the object of his worship.
Holy hell.
Her sex was beautiful: fleshy pink, glistening and so very ready to be consumed. Steadily, he ducked his head and dragged the flat of his tongue up the length of her slit, groaning and humming as did so. He sent an oath into whatever heaven would accept it and buried his face in the heat of her womanhood, breathing in the heady scent and savoring the tang that coated his tongue.
Fuck.
"Erik," the angel mewled as he took the small bundle of nerves between his lips and circled it with his tongue. Her hands entwined in his hair and he heeded to her command when she pulled him closer. She frantically bucked against him making it nearly impossible to please her, so he wrapped his arms under her thighs, locking her in place to lessen the movement of her hips.
His previous observation had been incorrect. He wasn't dead, rather very much alive and living out one of his many perverse fantasies with his Christine. He could taste her, smell her, and feel her in ways he never believed he would. Every brush of her curls against his nose, every inhale of her intoxicating bouquet, and every drop of her nectar inspired life into him.
Music filled his mind, a refined melody composed of every sound that Christine had ever produced. Her soft whimpers and mewls, her sharp gasps and moans, the first time the three words he prayed to hear fell from her lips. He matched the pace of his tongue to the rhythm and dug his fingers into the flesh of her thighs, pulling her closer.
Any control he established over himself had dissipated completely and he licked and sucked at her flesh with abandon. He had been starved for far too long and he deserved to have his fill of the angel that writhed atop his bed.
"Please, Erik, don't stop. It feels–" Christine gasped as he suckled on her nub harder. "Oh, please! It feels so good!"
Predacious eyes flickered up to her face and he caught her watching him. Her skin was flushed scarlet and contorted with pleasure. He sought her gaze as he continued to work on her bud and when he found it, her blush deepened and thankfully, she didn't look away. He wanted her to watch him as he claimed her heat as her husband. He wanted her to know that she was his and his alone. Any man who dared look at her would die, promises be damned.
Mine...mine...mine...mine...
Erik growled and released one of her thighs, working his fingers up her side, evoking shivers from his bride. His hand seeked one of her breasts and once he found it, his thumb flicked across her hardened nipple, repeating the motion over and over again. Her back arched, breaking their eye contact so he placed his arm over her stomach and forced her against the mattress. Nothing would get in the way of watching her face contort with the pleasure he was providing her. He once again claimed the attention of her eyes and, content that she wouldn't move, he returned his fingers to her nipple.
"Don't stop...faster," she pleaded, digging her nails into his scalp.
He obliged and flicked his tongue against her honeyed nub as quickly as he could. Her body vibrated against him as her thighs clamped around his head, pulling him in deeper. The pace of her shuddering breaths picked up and her flesh pulsed against his mouth, dripping more of her sweet arousal onto his tongue. He greedily lapped it up, taking in every drop that he drew from her and drinking his earnings with pride.
"Oh, God, Erik," she breathed, relaxing her thighs and releasing his head.
Without a second thought, he rose, licking the remnants from his lips and divesting himself of his clothing, forsaking that he had previously chosen to allow Chrisitne to do so. The throbbing pain she had brought upon him had to be sated immediately; he needed to be buried within her, or he would die.
He wrapped his arms around her back and pushed her against the pillows, following her body with his own. She clung to him, kissing every inch of his chest and neck, working her way up to his jaw where she bit and sucked on his skin. Grasping her chin, he crashed his hungry mouth against hers, hardly caring when their teeth clashed together. All he cared about was that she was his wife, his living breathing wife that he could take whenever he pleased.
With firm pressure, he grasped her ankle and slid his hand up the length of her stockinged leg. The fabric was silk beneath his fingers and when he reached the hem, he squeezed the flesh there and pushed her thigh up the coverlet. He parted his lips from hers and hovered over her mouth, relishing the feel of his heated flesh sliding against her silken slit. The head found her entrance and he pressed it into her, receiving a harsh gasp from the writhing woman beneath him.
"You tasted divine, Madame Destler," he panted. "Now, allow me to please you in another way."
A cry of pleasure filled his ears as he sunk into her at a purposefully torturous pace, grasping her bottom for support. His head dropped into the crook of her neck and he was forced to still himself. She was slicker than ever and her persistent bucking was nearly his undoing so to halt her movement, he dropped his hips to press her firmly into the bed. If he were to finish before having the chance to provide her with another orgasm, he would never forgive himself.
"Please, Erik," his angel moaned, still pushing against him.
The hot velvet of her clutch throbbed around his shaft, inciting a deep groan which he drowned in the flesh below her ear. With a few tender rotations of his hips, he was able to feel just how wet she actually was. A tremor wracked his body as he shoved himself as deep as he could and held himself there.
"It's my doing, Christine. It was me who made you this wet," he murmured, his voice thick and gravelly as he pressed a lingering kiss to her jugular.
"You, it was you," she whispered, digging her nails into his biceps and kissing his distorted temple.
With his hips rolling mercilessly into her, Erik caressed Christine's cheek and lifted his head to meet her gaze. Her adoring eyes captured his attention and everything else fell away. The outside world didn't exist; the echoes of dripping water didn't exist; nothing beyond the sanctuary of the scarlet sheets mattered. It was her. Only her.
It was her supple legs wrapping around his waist; her mouth speaking only words of cherishment in his ear; her nimble fingers exploring every inch of his haunted body.
In an instant, satin lips covered his mouth, parting and kissing him with a passion that would melt the sun. There were still faint hints of champagne as he delved deeper which made him wonder if she could taste herself on him. It would be a treat if she could, after all, she was a delicacy.
He pulled away gasping and pressed his forehead against her cheek, increasing the power of his thrusts and earning soft whimpers in return. The celestial tunes only he could draw from her, that only he deserved.
"No one else, my love. Only me," he groaned, entwining his fingers with hers and holding her hand against the sheets.
"Only you! It will only be you!" she cried, squeezing his hand.
Erik shuddered and pulled her calf farther up his back, plunging deeper inside of her. The spasming flesh of her heat was all the assurance he needed to know that she was close to her crisis–a rarity for her as she usually required outside stimulation. He kept the pace steady, knowing that if he changed it, he would chase away her climax.
His lips hovered over hers and he breathed in her intoxicating scent, his mind once again flooding with her music. Their mingled breaths were a stimulant that inspired every snap of his hips.
He grunted against the corner of her mouth, tightening his hold on her hand and hissed, "Mine."
"Always yours," she whispered back, lifting her hips to match his thrusts.
Her clutch pulsated even more and he knew with just a few more smooth strokes, she would be sated and he would be allowed to bury himself as deep as he could and follow her into ecstasy.
"That's it, my angel, come for me."
His own coils were tightening but he couldn't slow his tempo in fear of losing her orgasm so he clenched his jaw and steadily drove into her. The silkiness increased with every powerful surge and he choked a gasp with each connection, until finally, she cried his name.
"Yes, do it for your Erik. For your husband," he encouraged. Her walls clamped and quivered around his shaft as she shuddered against his chest, moaning his name. Her lips found his and she kissed him deeply, her quiet sighs filling his mouth.
Erik thrusted faster, needing to be rid of the ache in his loins until, with one final snap of his hips, he spilled himself into her. He dropped his face into her neck and groaned, biting her shoulder and gently rocking into her. After a moment, he stilled and shook above her, trying to regain control of his breathing that had become erratic without his notice.
"I love you so much," he whispered over her jawline.
Christine ran her fingers through his hair and returned the sentiment, "I love you."
In one leisurely movement, he dragged his spent member from her and settled beneath the coverlet. She crawled into his open arms and he pulled her on top of his chest, kissing the top of her head. Her soft nuzzles made his already thundering heart beat even faster and he couldn't help but clasp her tighter against him.
"Thank you, my love," he purred as he started slow circles on the small of her back.
Christine tilted her face up to his and smiled. "For what? It should be me thanking you. I never–"
He silenced her by placing a finger over her lips. "No, I am thanking you. I've wanted to taste you since–" He stopped and worried that by admitting just how long he had desired her sweet nectar, she would think less of him.
"Was it since we first made love?" she innocently asked.
Erik stared down at her bright eyes and determined that telling her the truth wouldn't hurt. After all, he had already admitted that he watched her as she pleased herself and she was highly aroused after he did so.
"When I first touched you after gala night for Hannibal," he explained, taking up her hand and placing it against his cheek. "Once you took my hand and I knew you as flesh and blood, everything changed for me."
She shifted closer to him and hooked her leg around his thigh, proving to him that he hadn't made the wrong choice in telling her. If she were disgusted, she would have fled the room, not moved closer. He was a fool for even thinking that she would turn him away.
"How so?" she pressed.
Erik cleared his throat and chuckled, entwining his fingers with hers. "Well, I had never touched a woman and when you so willingly came to me, I knew you had to be mine. As I led you here, every single possibility of the night came to mind and one of those possibilities..." he trailed off, letting her guess the rest.
"You were going to take me that night?"
"Yes, but it wouldn't have been right of me to do so. I can only assume that it's much better when both parties love each other," he said solemnly. He was regretful for even bringing up the topic of that night. It would surely arise unwanted memories in her and he couldn't have that, not on their wedding night. "But, let's not speak of that. We are here now, acting on those wants, married, and very much in love."
His fingers slipped under her chin and he pulled her mouth to his, placing a light kiss on her lips. She sighed into him and nodded.
"As you wish." She settled her head into the crook of his arm, humming as she twisted the ring on his finger. Just as he was about to inquire of how she obtained it, she said, "It was my father's. Madame Giry was keeping it for me until I found a man who I thought was worthy of it."
Erik was at a loss for words. She thought him worthy of her father's ring? How were either of them to know if her father would even approve of him as her husband, let alone allow him to wear his ring?
"Christine, I can't accept this," he forced out as he tried to remove the ring. It didn't belong to him. He would have Madame Giry purchase a new one and he would take it to Father Carriere to bless it.
She stopped him, gripping his hand and holding it in place. Pleading eyes locked with his and he knew he had to submit to the request in fear of making her unhappy.
"Please, this ring is all I have left of my father and I know you will keep it safe. As my husband, I have chosen you to wear it."
"I–I don't know what to say, my love. Thank you," he said, pulling her on top of him and hugging her tightly against his chest. He buried his face in her curls, breathing in her scent. "Whatever I did to deserve you, I would do it again thousands of times."
Christine laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his embrace. "Everything. You do everything to deserve me. You have loved me unconditionally, kept each and every one of your promises, and have accepted me as I am."
Tears pricked in Erik's eyes and he squeezed her tighter, not wanting to ever let her go. "I will love you for all eternity, Christine. My love will never falter, I will never want for another. It will always be you. Always."
Her face pressed into his neck and wet droplets fell onto his skin. Very slowly, he sat up while keeping her on his lap. He removed her head from his neck and lifted her chin to see that she was crying.
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, feeling anger bubbling inside of him. How dare he ruin such a wonderful moment and make his bride cry on their wedding night?
Christine shook her head and wiped away her tears. "No, everything you said was perfect."
Erik tucked her hair behind her ear and ran his thumb along her trembling lower lip, whispering, "Then why are you crying?"
"I just love you so much. I can't help it," she choked.
"Oh, Christine. I love you," he repeated, grasping the back of her neck and kissing her with bruising force.
After a minute or so, she pulled away, gasping for breath and stared at him. Her eyes scanned his entire face, even the places he hated most; but he had little care for his deformity when he was with her. She never made mention of his mask or wig and he no longer feared her reaction when he stepped into a room or woke in the mornings. Finally, in his thirty-four years of life, he felt like a real man.
Christine leaned in and placed her lips on his marred cheek, peppering the entire half of his face with heavy kisses. His heart thumped wildly at the simple gesture and he hardly registered the feeling of her hand snaking its way downwards.
"Christine," he groaned as she grasped his partially softened member in her hand. "I don't know if–" His head fell back in ecstasy and he was immediately proven incorrect when he hardened in her hand.
A long sigh escaped his lips as she sheathed him with her warmth and he locked one of his hands on her hip, guiding her movements.
Each claiming slide of flesh on flesh brought Erik closer to the angel astride his lap. His soul and heart soared with hers, up to whatever paradise was waiting for them. Whatever Heaven they belonged in...together.
xXx
The sheets next to him were still warm when Erik woke. He pawed around them, searching for Christine, but as his fingers slid over the silk, he came to the realization that he was alone. With a sigh, he turned onto his side, guessing that she must have left to use the washroom and awaited her return.
Seconds turned into minutes, then a loud coughing jolted him from his near-sleep state. It was Christine.
He launched out of bed and slid his trousers and shirt on before making his way out of the room. Quiet whimpers came from his left and when he glanced over, he saw Christine hunched over and retching into the lake. She was wearing a thin robe, one he had draped over the base of his bed months ago. It was hardly enough to keep her warm.
And now she was sick! How could he allow her to catch ill under his care? What kind of husband was he?
Without another thought, he rushed to her side and knelt down next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. She gasped and jumped before shrinking away from him.
"Please, go back to bed, you shouldn't see me like this," she said hoarsely.
A curtain of hair fell over her face and he reached out, tucking it behind her ear. "In sickness and in health, my love. Now, what can I do to help? Would you like me to carry you to the washroom?"
She shook her head and clutched her stomach, glancing over at him with sorrowful eyes. "I tried to make it, I promise. I didn't want to get sick in the lake. Please don't be mad at me."
"I will never be mad at you and don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for," he assured her. "I will make you some soup and read to you, if that would make you feel better."
"No, I thought I was hungry and I ate a pastry, but–" Her face contorted and she retched again. Before she could dirty her hair, Erik scooped it into his hands and held it behind her head then he ran a hand along her back in an pitiful attempt to soothe her.
Afterwards, she collapsed against his chest, whimpering and wiping tears from her eyes. Erik held the back of his hand against her forehead and was thankful that she didn't seem to have a fever. Lifting her into his arms, he placed delicate kisses on top of her head then carried her to the chaise lounge.
He gently lowered her onto the cushions and tucked a wool blanket over her before pulling the foot rest forward and taking a seat. Slowly, he rubbed her stomach, wanting to soothe her. It was something he always did whenever he misjudged if food was spoiled or not and suffered the consequences. After a few languid circles, she sighed and turned her head to look at him with glossy eyes.
"We haven't even been married for one day and I've already fallen ill. What are you going to do with me?" she jested, a weak smile forming on her trembling lips.
Erik forced a smile in return despite the fact that he was thoroughly devastated. He didn't have the proper supplies to care for her if she developed a fever. All he was capable of at that moment was ensuring she had enough fluids and was able to stay warm.
"I am going to stay by your side day and night until you get better," he assured her, taking up one of her hands and pressing it to his lips. Her fingers were like ice, so he warmed them by rubbing them between his palms, repeating the same process with her other hand.
Christine grumbled as he placed her hands beneath the blanket. "You can't sit here all day. What will you do?"
"I will read you your favorite books, tend to all of your needs, bring you as much tea as you desire. Anything you ask of me. Name it and it shall be yours," he said, smoothing her hair away from her face and caressing her cheek.
She nuzzled into his hand, settling back into the lounge and yawning. "I believe just being in your presence is making me feel better," she said before her lips turned in a frown. "Am I still sick enough for you to read to me?"
Erik chuckled and reached over her, grabbing the leather-bound book that sat on the side table. It was one that he knew she loved. A romance between a prince and a servant girl. One Erik always found rather strange, as what woman, or any person, would want to wear glass on their feet?
Nevertheless, he flipped to the first page and said, "I will read to you even if you aren't sick, my dear. All you have to do is ask."
"Thank you," she said with a stronger smile.
With the little reassurance that she was indeed feeling better, he started to read, filling the cavern with the tale of love. He did his best to keep his eyes trained on the pages, but he couldn't help the occasional glance at Christine to be sure she was still breathing.
He was nearly halfway through the seventh page when he noticed her eyes had slotted closed and she was softly snoring. His voice trailed off and he closed the book, pleased that he had lulled her into sleep.
Erik leaned towards her and placed his lips against her temple, whispering, "Sweet dreams, my angel."
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Any comments are appreciated, I love feedback, words of affirmation, motivational speeches, anything really :)
Thank you everyone, I appreciate each and every one of you!
