Unmasqued: An Erotic Novel of The Phantom of The Opera Read Online Free PDF

skin. Her head held immobile, her eyes closed against the searing light, Christine struggled to draw in a breath and succeeded only in shuddering and faintly sobbing as pleasure burned where he kissed her, drawing on her flesh, slowly, insistently.
    His lips, warm, moist, gentle, inched along her jaw, down the side of her taut throat. Her neck ached; her lips parted; her kneesweakened. Her fingers closed around his hand at her shoulder, while her other hand reached up to touch him behind her. She needed to feel him, to know him.
    “No,” he snarled against her skin, and, releasing her hair, snatched at her questing fingers and pulled them away from his face. He moved quickly and imprisoned both of her wrists in one leathered hand, above her head.
    He moved. She could feel him reach up, behind her, and then suddenly she felt something wrapping around her wrists. She gasped, and tried to pull her arms free, but he was too strong. Before she knew it, he’d secured her hands above her head, wrists crossed, elbows bent gently.
    “Did you not know that curiosity killed the cat?” he murmured gently into her ear, his sudden anger seeming to have defused. He circled around so that he stood just next to her, but still slightly behind so that she could not see any part of his face…only the gloved hand and the long, black arm to which it was connected, the strong black leg that crossed in front of her skirt, and the shiny black shoe that stepped in the pool of light below.
    She tried to move her hands down from the top of her head, but something held them there, something from above. She could do nothing but tug and pull and feel the sway of the rope as it swung from the catwalk above. Her heart beat faster; she could not seem to draw in a full breath.
    “Now…,” he sighed, moving close to her, one hand in a vee at the front of her neck, cupping her throat, the other at her nape. “I shall show you how well your performance pleased me tonight.”
    “
Ange
, please…” She could scarcely form the words…and for what she was pleading, she did not know.
    His chuckle was quiet, but he did not respond with words. Instead, she felt his hand moving down her spine. The heavy weightof her gown loosened, gapping and falling away in the back where his nimble fingers undid the buttons Madame Giry had fastened only a short time ago.
    His other hand slipped under the steel ribbing of her corset, sliding under her left breast and to lift it from the cup of her stays. His leather-covered thumb moved over her stark, hard nipple and she felt a jolt of pleasure spear into her belly, and then to the place between her legs. It flooded moist and hot there, and she pulled, trying to bring her arms to touch him, forgetting that she could not. The rope held, and she succeeded only in straining her arms and causing her
ange
to chuckle again.
    “Relax,
ma voix
,” he murmured, his voice rougher than before. His thumb continued to rub across the sensitive part of her nipple, while the other hand slid down beneath the open buttons of her gown, down and around her buttocks.
    Christine jerked when that hand found its way under her chemise and down into her drawers, cool leather fingers slicking down stickily, spreading the cleft of her rear. She tried to buck away, but he only pressed harder, his fingers sliding to cover the underside of one round buttock while his front hand slipped to the vee of her legs. His palm pressed there, into her sex, through her gown, and moved in a circular motion over the silk and lace that covered her.
    Wrists bound above her, she was trapped between his hands, one set of fingers pushing her skirts down and between her legs, and the other urging her forward from behind, into his palm that cupped her. Her breasts were tight, her nipples painfully hard. Her arms were cold and prickly from lack of blood. The beam of light burned down on them and sweat dampened her face and shoulders and breasts, making her skin slick and