Restored to Love (4 page)

Sweat oozed from her pores, her blonde hair clinging in damp strings to the nape of her neck. Her tits jiggled and bounced in time with his savage thrusts. Juice poured from her, trickling in sticky snail-trails down the insides of her thighs. The stranger's pounding of her cunt was growing more insistent, making it harder for her to keep her fingers steady on her clit. He gripped her arse so tightly, she was sure his fingers would leave bruises. On and on he went, his powers of endurance almost beyond belief. She'd never had sex like it, never been taken to the very limits of her strength. She was light-headed, delirious, but she couldn't get enough of him.

With a primeval roar, the man stiffened and came. Melinda could feel every squirt as he unloaded the contents of his balls at the entrance to her womb. ‘Oh, Lowdale Man, do it. Fill me with your spunk,' she screamed, in the second before her own climax ripped through her and the world turned black.

When Melinda came to, it took several moments for her to work out where she was. Glancing over, she saw Ryan, still sleeping peacefully. The two of them were alone; not a trace of a naked, spear-carrying stranger. She'd obviously had the strangest dream, brought on by the dandelion wine, a dream where she was stripped and fucked by the pre-historic guardian of the hillside. The Lowdale Man was just a legend, she told herself firmly, nothing more. But that didn't explain the pleasurable soreness between her thighs, nor the torn sun dress lying in the dewy grass.

At last, Ryan stirred, pulling himself slowly into a sitting position. ‘Hey, Melinda, are you OK?'

‘Yeah.' As she smiled at him, she knew she was giving off a freshly fucked glow, impossible to disguise.

‘It's funny. I know we must have just had sex, but I don't remember a thing about it.' Ryan stuffed his limp cock back into his shorts, then hunted around till he found his T-shirt.

‘Oh, it was amazing. Look at what happened to my dress.' Melinda gestured to the ruined garment. ‘It was like I was being fucked by a wild man.'

‘Glad to be of service.' Ryan dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her head, before helping to wrap the blanket around her, covering her up for their walk home.

Halfway down the hill, Melinda glanced back over her shoulder, pausing just long enough to offer a silent thank you to the chalk figure. The rite had worked; she knew with a conviction she couldn't explain that her period would be late this month. Putting her hand in Ryan's, she was already looking forward to the moment when she could tell him they were going to have a baby.

Gabriel
by Athena Marie

I am lost in pounding industrial rhythms and dark lyrics that sing of lust, pain, obsession and salvation. The music is pumping through me and I can feel the beat in counterpoint with my heart. I am dressed in black latex, and though my outfit is stifling and oppressive in the heat of the club, the way it feels against my body, like a second reptilian skin, makes the discomfort worth it.

I rarely come here any more. Only on nights when I consciously step into my alter ego. Only when I need this darkness and this pounding music to dissolve and absolve my pain. For it is only here on this dance floor where I can lose myself. And always I hope that in losing myself I will find myself. Always I hope that some night at this club I will find … something.

As I move, serpent-like on the dance floor, I meet the eyes of a man sitting alone in the corner. He's been watching me since I arrived and his penetrating gaze is becoming unnerving. Of course I'm used to being watched but there's something about his attention that is disconcerting. He doesn't look away when our eyes meet. He doesn't look at anyone else. It's as if I am the only person he can see.

He is dressed like everyone here – in black, complete with a trench coat and combat boots laced up to his knees. And yet, he could never blend in with the crowd. In a room full of people with black hair – most dyed simply for the sake of being dark – his shimmering golden curls are out of place. Men in this club often attempt to pull off the “gothic prince” look but I've never seen anyone do it quite so well. His very essence exudes power and it makes me nervous. He is too beautiful, too masculine, and sitting silent and alone, still and stoic like a statue in the corner, he sends a clear message that he has no interest in wasting his time with those he considers beneath him. It appears I am the only one that does not fall into that category.

In an attempt to escape his piercing stare I wend my way off the dance floor, order another glass of wine, then head to the small lounge at the back of the club. Relieved to find the room empty, I sit down on one of the many well-worn couches and stretch my legs. A moment later, a large man clad in black leather, wearing thick eyeliner and spikes around his wrists, enters the room. I swear under my breath.

‘Hey, beautiful. I haven't seen you in ages.' He plops down on the couch beside me and I scoot away. ‘You partying tonight?' He opens his sweaty palm to reveal two blue pills inside a small plastic bag.

For a brief moment I consider his offer. I take a deep breath and shake my head. ‘No. Sorry, Mike.'

‘Aw, but it's Friday night, baby! Let's have some fun.'

I turn away and feign interest in the amateur macabre art hanging on the walls. ‘I'm having enough fun, thanks.'

‘Doesn't look like it to me.' He scoots closer.

‘I should go find my friend.'

I begin to stand but he wraps his moist hand around my arm and pulls me back down. ‘I'll keep you company, baby. We need to catch up.'

Suddenly a cold breeze flows through the room. I shiver and look around to find the source. What I see makes my breath catch in my lungs. The man with the golden curls is standing in the doorway, his trench coat flared out behind him. He enters the room and the air crackles with electricity. I feel the hairs on my arms stand up. His eyes are severe and they are focused directly on me.

I lean back as he approaches, unsure as to which of these two men is more dangerous. He stops inches in front of me and looks down at me in silence. Immediately, I am taken aback by the striking shade of his eyes. They are emerald green, almost iridescent, and I watch in confusion as they soften, then slowly travel over every facet of my face. He studies me for what feels like for ever. He studies me as if he has never seen a woman before. Then he reaches out and with long graceful fingers gently touches a lock of my dark hair.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mike glancing back and forth between us. He clears his throat and abruptly the strange man before me drops the strand of my hair, narrows his eyes, and turns to face him.

‘I've been looking for you, Michael.' He speaks slowly and his voice is deep and resonant.

Mike looks him up and down and raises his eyebrows in contempt. ‘Yeah? Do I know you?'

‘No. But I know you.'

In a sudden blur of movement the man with the golden curls pulls Mike up by his collar and slams him back against the wall. I hear Mike exclaiming profanities but I'm already halfway across the room. I don't know what the hell is going on but I'm not about to hang around to find out. Just as I reach the door, it slams shut. Frantically, I twist at the handle but it doesn't turn. Shrinking against the door, I turn around to see the man holding Mike up against the wall by his throat. His face is turning red as he kicks his feet desperately, trying to find the security of the ground.

‘Give them to me.'

Mike tries to shake his head only to have it slammed brutally against the wall. His assailant repeats his demand. Fumbling in his jacket pocket Mike pulls out the baggie of blue pills.

‘Not those ones.' The golden-haired man's voice, now frighteningly sinister, echoes through the room.

Mike drops the bag of pills as his bug-eyes begin to protrude further from his purple face. In horror I watch as the hand around his throat continues to tighten. A moment later Mike's struggling stops and his head droops forward. Plastering myself into the corner, willing myself to become invisible, I watch as his attacker lays his body on a nearby couch. He stands over him, his back to me. The room is silent but for my pounding heart and the muffled bass from the room down the hall. Finally, he turns to face me with an outstretched hand.

‘Don't be afraid.'

I repress a sob. I know what happens to people who witness murders. Especially in a place like this.

‘He's fine. Trust me.' He reaches into Mike's pocket and pulls out a pill vial, this one filled with little white tablets.

‘He's not dead?' My knees are weak beneath me. I steady myself against a nearby chair.

‘No. But had I not come, Julia, you may not have been so lucky.'

‘What do –? How do you know my name?'

He brushes off his shirt nonchalantly and shrugs. ‘The same way you know mine.'

My eyes narrow as my fear begins to transform into anger. ‘What? I don't know who you are! Look, if you don't mind I'd like to get back to my friends now.' I raise my chin and straighten my spine in an attempt to feel stronger than I am. But he can see right through me. He knows that I came alone. ‘Fuck this. I'm out of here.' I grab my drink off the table and turn to go, silently praying that I will find the door unlocked.

‘I'm your only friend here, Julia. And I wouldn't drink that if I were you.'

‘Yeah, why not?'

He holds up the vial of white pills and nods towards my glass. I follow his gaze to the crimson liquid within and remember back to the moment I had turned away from Mike. In stunned silence I dump the wine into the trash. Suddenly I feel fragile. Frayed at the edges. I try not to think of what could have happened to me.

‘I'm sorry I frightened you. He's hurt a great deal of women, Julia. And you would have been next.'

‘Are you a cop or something?' But I know it couldn't possibly be that simple. Cops don't look like him. 

He chuckles and a devastatingly handsome smile spreads on his face. ‘Of sorts.'

I can't help but smile in return. For in his smile there is such sincerity, such kindness, that my fear and anger begins to dissolve. When he crosses the distance between us he moves as if on air. No, he's definitely not a cop. He reaches out and brushes the back of his hand tenderly down my cheek. His touch is warm and soft, and he positively vibrates with a potent combination of masculinity and sensuality that makes my skin tingle.

‘I've been watching you.'

‘I noticed.'

‘No, I mean … I've been watching you.' He speaks slowly and deliberately, as if urging me to understand the true meaning of his words. I shake my head in confusion. Again he chuckles then pulls me gently against him. Slowly, he leans down and brushes his lips against mine. For a brief moment I try to pull away but he smells so good, like cologne and mountain air, and his body so hard against me is intoxicating. He brushes his lips against mine again, urging them to part ever so slightly for his tongue. And as he begins slowly exploring my mouth with his warmth I melt against him. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness I'm aware of the door swinging open – once again unassisted.

Suddenly he breaks our kiss, steps back, and places his hands on my shoulders. ‘Come with me now, Julia.' He looks at me with such urgency that I almost want to comply. I shake my head but even I don't believe my refusal. His thumbs gently stroke my skin. It is such a trivial touch and yet my body responds. A liquid warmth that starts between my legs slowly spreads through me. No man has ever had such a powerful and immediate effect on me and I don't understand it. I turn my back to him, willing my feet to begin walking away from him, away from this place. They don't.

He grips a handful of my long hair in his fist and I feel myself soften in response to his restraint. Firmly but gently he pulls my head back until it is resting against his broad shoulder. His lips brush against my ear. His tongue runs the length of my neck. And when he steps forward, his warm body pressing against mine, I let out a ragged breath. I can feel his cock hard against my backside and with a quiet moan I push back against him. Between gentle nibbles on my neck he whispers foreign words in my ear. I don't recognise the language, but it is lovely, and I shiver in response to the beauty of the graceful phrase. Then, before my mind can even question it, I quietly murmur a single word … ‘Gabriel.'

‘Good girl.' He releases my hair, takes my hand and speaks with unquestionable authority. ‘Now come with me, Julia.'

This time I obey.

As we walk slowly through the club, the throng of black-clad dancers parts before us, opening a path towards the winding staircase that leads to the roof. I move as if I am in a trance. And as I surrender to his guidance I have the strangest sensation of
déjà vu
. It's almost as if I have followed him in the landscapes of my dreams many times before.

It's a cold night and the rooftop deck is deserted. I shiver as we look out over the lights of the city. He moves closer to me, wrapping his long black trench coat around me. Looking up, I study his eyes and once again am taken in by the radiant light and clarity within them. My gaze travels down to the long chain around his neck. Dangling at the level of his heart is a gold and silver talisman. It is a beautiful piece of jewellery, intricately designed in the form of a half moon crowned by three diamond stars. I pick it up and cradle it in my hands.

‘Who are you?' My voice is barely audible. I know I won't receive an answer.

He smiles, white teeth glimmering in the moonlight. Then without a word he kisses me. But these kisses are not gentle and teasing as they had been before. These kisses are passionate, deep and all-consuming. And in response to his bold domination of my mouth and mind, something inside of me opens, softens, and surrenders. Every nerve in my body seems to vibrate, and an ecstasy I've never felt before washes through me. My hands tangle in his thick curls as I pull him closer to me, deeper into me. Grinding against him I begin to whimper. I am sensitised in a way I have never known. The feeling of his cock pressing against me is creating a need in me, so furious, so alien, that I barely recognise my own voice begging for more. ‘Please, please,' I murmur between kisses as my hand reaches down to grasp his hardness. ‘I need you.'

He cradles my face in his large hands. ‘You have me, Julia. There can be no other way.'

I don't understand his cryptic remark but it doesn't matter. All I know is I must feel him inside of me. ‘Please make love to me,' I whisper as I fumble with his belt buckle. He pushes my hands away.

‘I can't. It is forbidden.'

Damn forbidden. Damn him. I have never needed anything so much. I step back and turn away. But immediately he wraps his arms around me. I lean back against him. I have never felt so safe in a man's arms.

‘Julia, please believe me. There is nothing I would like more than to make love to you.' He groans and I know it is the truth. ‘But I cannot. The potential consequences are too extraordinary.'

‘Then let me taste you.' I turn around in his arms and fall to my knees before he can protest. I unzip his pants to reveal his cock, hard and erect. It's beautiful. I hold it in my hands for a moment, treasuring its perfection, then, squeezing him gently, I slip the head into my mouth. He groans and his eyes close. Wrapping my hands around the base I run my tongue up and down its length, savouring his unique flavour. He tastes like a man, musky and deep, but there is a sweetness about him that I have never tasted before. I want more of it. As I lick his cock with growing passion his hands grip my head, fingers digging gently into my scalp. And then I take him fully into my mouth, sucking and devouring him in a way I have never done before. My head bobs up and down as I moan and cry around his shaft. I feel totally insane. I feel lost in lust. I feel drugged.

But no, this is different. For I'd learned long ago that drugs only brought pain. And though I'd managed to choose a different path, I had yet to find anything, or anyone, to fill the space inside of me that had led me to drugs in the first place.

Until now. I know it is absurd. There is no logic to what I am feeling. All I know is that I am bathed in pure love, and just as his cock is filling my mouth, I can feel that love filling the emptiness in my soul.

I look up to see the full moon shining brightly behind his head, creating the illusion of a golden halo around him. And his face, caught somewhere between ecstasy and pain, angel and mortal, is the most beautiful face I have ever seen. And then I hear it. He doesn't speak aloud but I hear his voice inside of me, a deep and gentle voice urging me to suck harder, to take him inside of me, for he will be my saving grace. So I do. And the longer I feast on him the more I need him. The more I need to take him – to take both of us – to heaven. My hands are working in time with my mouth, bringing him closer and closer. His hands grip my head and an extraordinary white heat flows from his palms.