Unmasqued

She knew immediately what he meant. His lewd gaze, his lascivious smile, the bulge in his trousers.

"Raoul has had the opportunity to test the wares, of course, but I have not… because of your interference. Perhaps we might come to an arrangement of our own, Miss Daae?"

"No," Erik snarled, fighting anew. "Christine, no!"

"You won't find it so very difficult, will you, Miss Daae? After all, from our brief interlude at the masquerade ball, you seemed to find me… not so very distasteful. Not so distasteful as you might have pretended. It must be the Chagny blood. We all have it. All three of us." He laughed softly, his eyes fastened on hers.

Christine's heart thudded in her chest. "Would… would you leave, and let us go free?"

"If I found your performance convincing enough… I'm sure we could come to a satisfactory arrangement." His mouth curled and he watched her, waiting. Waiting.

"Christine, nooo…"Erik was sobbing now, twisting and turning, trying to break free.

"Tell him to shut up, or I will shut him up," Philippe told her quietly, never moving his attention from her.

"Erik… please. You will make it worse." Her words came out rusty, but they seemed to have an effect, for he stopped calling… subsiding into heavy, rough breathing behind them.

Ignoring Raoul, who had released her during the exchange with Philippe, Christine drew in a deep breath. Philippe blinked easily, but his attention remained avid and steady. She stepped toward him and lifted her face, pressing her lips to his.

He did not move and she drew back, looking up at him.

"Surely you can do better than that," he told her. "I said the performance must be convincing."

Refusing to look at Erik, she stepped forward again. Pulling in a deep breath, she lifted her arms, and felt her breasts rise from behind the corset as she slid her fingers around the back of Philippe's neck. Bringing his head down, she rose on her toes to kiss him, moving her lips over his in sensual, sleek strokes. From the shift of his breath, she knew she had been successful, yet he did not move.

She kissed more frantically, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to taste his tobacco and wine-scented tongue, and bringing her hips forward into his, where his erection told her she'd had an effect.

Christine stepped away again, breathing heavily, and his hand lashed out to grab her wrist. "That was an adequate beginning, Miss Daae." He yanked her back up against him. He looked down at her, forcing her wrist straight down along his thigh, and sliding his other hand between them to fondle her breast. "Why stop now?"

"I thought… I thought we could move somewhere more comfortable," she said, trying to make her voice and expression coy. She did not want to do this in front of Erik. "To the boudoir."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Philippe smiled down at her, twitching his finger over her nipple in a rough rhythm that sent little sparks to her belly. Christine swallowed, shocked that her body would respond so quickly… so easily… in such a situation. "But we wouldn't want my brother to miss the show, would we?" He glanced back over his shoulder to where Erik stood, then smiled back down at Christine.

Her throat dried. "You are evil," she whispered into his face, even as the languid stroking over her nipple caused her quim to swell and burn with arousal.

"Not evil," he told her, "merely obsessed with beauty. And determined to get what I want. Now, off with your clothes. You are wasting time."

Christine cast a glance at Raoul, who appeared to be little affected by his brother's orders, despite his pronouncements of affection for her. In fact, his eyes seemed to glitter a bit brighter.

She did not dare look at Erik. If she did, she couldn't go through with this. But she would do this for him, for them. It was only sex. She could do it.

"Now, Christine," Philippe said sharply. He tautened the rope around his wrist, giving a threatening yank. Erik gasped and coughed, and Christine spared him a brief look.

"I will… Please… let him breathe," she begged. She met Philippe's eyes and drew in another deep breath, then placed her hands over the top of her corset and pulled it down suddenly.

Philippe moved slightly, and Erik's horrible choking stopped. But his tortured breathing rasped in the air, and she could not look at him.

Her breasts were bare, and Philippe smiled as he looked at them. He sat back in his chair and waited, and Christine felt Raoul behind her. Before she could react, Raoul gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place under the long curls of hair, tight enough that she hardly dared breathe. With a swift, rough motion, he pulled at the laces Madame Giry had done up only hours before and yanked the corset down and off, whipping it away. Her skirts and crinolines dropped to the floor, leaving her bare to everyone.