Unmasqued

Raoul had indeed dressed as Paris, the Trojan who had stolen Helen from her husband, Menelaus.

"If Menelaus discarded his wife, she would have no choice than to go with Paris-"

"Discarded?" Erik whipped toward her, his body tense and tall and powerful, cloaked in a swirl of the black that he favored. "Christine, you-"

But she didn't allow him to finish. Her arms went around him, pulling his head to hers, and she covered his mouth with hers.

She forgot about what the mask covered, about his rage and loathing toward her. It didn't matter any longer what one part of his face looked like, that one small part of him. He was there; he'd forgiven her. He'd saved her from the comte.

And mon Dieu, he tasted like Erik… like Erik… warm, slick, sensual. It was a bare moment before he lost his control and wrapped his arms around her. He held her face, kissing her back, moaning into her mouth.

"Christine… Christine…" His tongue, his lips… they ate of her, drank of her… She tasted him in turn, the warm, mellow tongue, the thick, slick curve of his lips… She felt the broad, square edges of his shoulders… the heavy thrusting cock between them. She reveled in the familiarity, the comfort, the homecoming.

Before she knew it, her gown was up, her gartered thighs bare. Her buttocks rested up against the arm of the chaise, and her arms braced her torso. Her breasts jounced, bare from the bodice pulled down to her waist, gleaming cream in the low light. Erik slid his thick erection inside her, and tears burned the edges of her eyes. It felt… full, and right and familiar.

He lifted her, his hands strong and powerful at her hips, holding her as he drove inside, up and in, up and in, his warm thighs wound beneath hers, his knees pressing into the side of the sofa under her legs. In and out… his eyes were closed… Why would he not open them, look at her?

He pushed in and out, faster… Her breasts jiggled, moving up and down, free and chilled in the open air. Her pip swelled, her labia filled, slick and hot with the friction… building… her sex pounding, wanting it… Erik breathed, the puffs warm and hot, moist, as he worked his hips… in and out… filling her, the curl of lust building… building…

He came. Long, hard…

She knew it, because of the way his eyes flew open, his gaze driving into hers with the same intensity as the saber blade… naked emotion burning there… his jaw tensed and his neck corded, his dragging in of deep, gulping breaths… the pulsing warmth inside her as his hips stopped moving.

And he pulled away. Turned away. Gathered up his saber.

Slid it into its sheath.

"Erik!" she sobbed, her quim crying, her heart breaking.

"Helen chose Paris, causing a war led by her husband." He looked at her over his shoulder once briefly, then opened a door she had not known existed. "This Menelaus will not fight for a lost cause."

And then he was out the door.

When Christine reached it, opened it… he was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

In the privacy of the white salon, well away from the partygoers of the masquerade ball, Maude had one thick cock slamming her quim from behind, and another long, slender one in her mouth from the front.

What more could a woman ask for?

Something up her ass, for one. A tongue-lashing on her pip for another. Perhaps another pair of lips on each nipple… if one were to get specific.

All things considered, however, Maude wasn't complaining. No, she had no complaints as her body trembled in her third orgasm of the session. Her groans of delight were choked off by Firmin's cock in her mouth.

The masquerade costumes had long been shed… except for the masks. She'd insisted they keep them on… as part of the excitement.

Her whip lay coiled on the floor, forgotten in the moment of two cocks working her, one from each end. One in, the other out… one out, the other in… as though they were one long rope being pulled in and through her in a smooth, sleek rhythm.

Her heavy breasts dangled, thick, hard nipples brushing over the rough rug as they swayed back and forth with the pulse of their movement, sending little jolts of sensation to her throbbing clit. The slick suction sounds from her pussy matched those from her mouth as Firmin held her face, sliding in and out, long and slow.

"You lovely bitch," he gasped between breaths. "I'll choke you… when I come, you'll be drowning."

Oh, out, oui, Maude thought in delight, her lips curving around him.

Behind her, Armand grasped her hips as his thick, round cock filled her quim, settling into its space and holding there, as he began to work the black dildo she'd dropped in Firmin's pocket.