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

heavy. She bucked her hips, trying to get free, or closer, or away—anything to relieve the pressure building inside her.
    As he massaged her with his hands, pressing her between them, one warm leather finger slipped from behind, sliding through the wetness that pooled between her legs. Christine moaned when that finger, impersonal in its black case, slid inside her. He pushed her back, his other hand still in place at the juncture of her thighs, massaging just where the edge of her mound was.…How could he feel it, through all the reams of cloth?
    Such thoughts fled when he removed his hand from her front and yanked hard at her corset, pulling it down and away from her heavy, tight breasts. She was poised, balanced, on the finger deep inside her, and her breasts were bare in the hot white light, pink nipples hard and pointing, aching when he brushed his hand over one, then the other.
Mon Dieu
, what if someone came upon them?
    He pinched, tweaked, rubbed, and she moved her hips, swimming on that leather finger, trying to find something, some relief, some end. “Ah, yes,” he breathed into her ear. His voice was thick and deep. “You open yourself to me.…Yes,
ma voix
, yes, you may shudder and moan. It is a beautiful music you make now, on this stage. Performing only for me.”
    Christine was no innocent when it came to pleasure of the body, but she had never felt the hot rush of lust combined with the inability to move as she wished, touch as she needed to. She’d never felt this rage of need she now felt, standing—no, dangling, for her knees sagged and she could no longer hold herself upright.
    When he bent his dark head and closed his mouth around the nipple nearest him, Christine could hold back no longer. She cried out, felt the weight of her body straining on the rope above, dangling with her wrists held high and helpless. Wetness, moisture, liquid everywhere…between her legs, on her breast, sweat from the heat of the light—she was dripping, throbbing, panting.
    She cried out, unable to hold back the frustration that builtinside. His lips sucked at her nipple, drawing it so tightly into his mouth that she thought she must scream from the pain, and cry from the pleasure.
    The finger inside her slipped free, rubbing over her engorged pip, straining between her nether lips, as she circled her hips, trying to move it closer, harder, faster, in the rhythm she needed. He lifted his mouth. “Come for me, Christine.…Come…
now.
”
    His other hand again pushed back on her, holding her hips in place as that nimble finger worked from behind, round and round, slipping and gliding through her, until at last the pleasure peaked and she shuddered, crying out her orgasm from deep within.
    Then there was only the aftermath: silence, but for their twin breaths, harsh and needy. The dull throb between her legs; the ache at the breast where he’d sucked so hard. His warm leather hand as it glided up and over her ass, bringing her wetness along with it over the round swell of her buttocks. He drew away from her breast, moving back behind her before she saw more than the gleam of dark hair. His hands settled on her shoulders and he pressed into her from behind.
    She felt his erection; it pushed into the base of her bare back, through his trousers, insistent and promising. Hard, and it sent a renewal of lust through her middle, stabbing into her stomach.
    “I trust that your pleasure was as great as mine,” he murmured, back at her ear again and safely out of her view. His voice was not smooth; it was uneven but low, as though he struggled to keep it steady. He moved his hands up along her arms, moving from her bare skin to the fine cotton gloves that stretched from elbow to wrist.
    “I believe mine was the greater,” Christine replied, her own words shaky. “But if you will untie me,
ange
, I would like to touch you…and see you.”
    “My name is Erik. You may call me that, but now is not the time. Behave yourself