Galatea Unveiled

“Do you know what I love about you?” His fingers trailed over her skin. Almond brown and difficult to ignore, especially when she was fresh from a bath.

“Nothing.” Violet responded flatly. “Demons do not love.”

Henry pursed his lips, sweeping his fingertips over the elegant line of her collarbone. There was no part of her that was not austere. Even the way her shoulders led into the lines of her throat, the swell of her chest. “You could at least allow me to pretend.”

Violet batted his hand away long enough to reach out and grab her comb. She was seated naked on the chair facing her vanity. Her wintry skin was covered in dark bruises – Henry’s kiss marks where he had become too vigorous. Her creamy breasts bore some particularly deep marks from his teeth. Her nipples were discolored purple and fading brown, rather than their usual rose pink.

He was always careful. He only marked what another may never see despite any slip of her collar or chemise.

But below the line of her most indiscreet item of clothing, it was all fair game. And he loved to mark her as his.

“I do not allow you much by way of fantasy.” She said. Her comb was gold and ivory. Most sets were silver, but she believed in excess. Their business was doing well, thanks to him.

“No,” he plucked the comb from her fingers and gathered up her dark hair in his hand. He liked to comb her hair. He loved to brush it; pet it. He loved to run his fingers through it. In bed he would nuzzle it, kiss it – bury his face in it and inhale deeply. Something about it all – all of her.

Maybe he could smell her soul through her skin and hair; seeping through like an expensive perfume.

“You have enough indulgences. I do not need to provide you with more.” There was a decided bite to the remark.

“Madame.” He tapped her shoulder with the comb. “I would never dream of over-indulging myself on anything other than you.”

“Is my soul an indulgence?”

“Your soul is repast.”

“Ah. Then what does that make my cunt?”

The staggering word would have sent any unwitting gentleman to his knees in shock. It barely made Henry’s lips twitch, and only in distaste.

“Your belle-chose is what one might refer to as an ‘earthly delight’.”

He hit a snarl in her hair and forced the comb through, gripping it in his fist to make sure it did not tug against her scalp. She felt it anyway, and the pressure was enough to pull her head back just a little. She gasped, and he brushed his fingers against her cheek again in apology.

“You do not know how to do anything properly.” She chided him.

“A few things. You do not give me enough credit.” He finished with her hair and set the comb down on her vanity again, finally moving to position himself in front of her and looking down. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze.

The rings around her irises were pure silver. They made him salivate.

He was starving.

Henry leaned over and pressed his lips against her white throat. Violet sighed and closed her eyes, reaching up to rest her hand against his shoulders. Henry lingered there, his lips caressing her fluttering jugular. How easy it would be to tear through her flesh, to rip her apart from the neck-down and grab that bitter silver from behind her heart. His mouth slid down, teeth dragging across her skin.

He could do it.

The sight of his own marks excited him. Her skin bruised so beautifully – and so easily. He had to take special care not to leave any where they could be seen. The challenge was half the appeal. The idea that something as simple as a misplaced nip could be seen as gross indecency – enough to have them banished from high society, no doubt. If only their peers could glimpse behind closed doors. If only they could bear witness to the depravity where such marks were only the loving trails of memories blooming on her skin like roses in memoriam.

Henry leaned over and kissed her, his fingers sliding up the length of her throat and coming to rest beneath her chin. She swallowed hard and he felt it against his fingertips. She parted her lips for him, genteel and generous. His tongue slipped through, hot and intrusive, desiring more.

Henry’s hand moved from underneath her chin, sliding around to grasp the back of her neck. Her hair wrapped around his fingers and he gripped it tight, tugging on it. The sudden yank sent a sharp pain shooting over her scalp and Violet gasped. She tilted her head back and his greedy, searching mouth found her throat. He pressed his lips against her silken skin, his tongue sliding over the thudding pulse. He wanted to suck on her throat. But he could not risk leaving a mark.

Henry forced himself to continue downward. He cupped his hands around her breasts and squeezed them in his hands. Impossibly soft, but also dense enough to hold a luxurious form. He pinched her nipples between his fingers, enough to make her yelp, and pushed her breasts together. He buried his face in them, huffing, kissing them in turn and then sliding his tongue over her sensitive nipples. He sucked on them, drawing each into his mouth, nipping and tugging and sliding his tongue back and forth over the very tips. Violet slammed her hand against the back of his head so hard that she almost sent him reeling. She gripped his blonde hair in her fist, wanting to simultaneously pull him away and push him even closer. Henry kept moving down. He dragged his tongue down the trail between her breasts, sliding all the way down to her stomach. He kissed the gentle curve, his fingers working their way between her ass and the chair to grip the former between in his hands. He coaxed her forward that way and Violet relaxed a little in her seat, spreading her legs for him.

Her grip, however, did not relax. If anything, it tightened. The pain was divine, even if he was momentarily afraid that she might rip his hair out by the roots.

Henry put his face between her thighs. They were warm and damp from his attentions. Pleased that he had managed to make her so, he traced his tongue up either side before pressing his nose to her sex. Her skin was salty. She was drenched.

He nuzzled her again before pressing his fingers against her entrance. They played along the warm slit and he used his fingertips to encourage her to open up further. He spread her wide, pressing his face close and slipping his tongue as deep inside as it could go. She moaned, her head going back and her hips shifting to press closer to him. Henry started slipping his tongue back and forth, moving it to lick up to her clit, teasing the little knot before sliding it back inside. Sucking. Licking. He teased her clit again, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it – releasing the pressure to flick it with his tongue and then sucking again. Violet could not control the sounds she was making; and there were no pillows or blankets to muffle her pleasure. She resorted to using her free hand, covering her own mouth and splaying her fingers enough so that she could force her breath through her nose. It did little to help.

The fingers that he had been using to open her up now came together and Henry slid them inside. She was tight around them, almost unbearably so. He could feel her stretch to take in just that much. Between his legs, he ached and throbbed at the thought of what she would feel like around the rest of him. He focused on taking his time and resisting the urge of his more primal instincts.

“You are the devil!” She gasped, as she did often. Violet ripped her hand away from her mouth, anger flaring as the heat built and the mounting tension tightened in her thighs and in her abdomen. He could feel her legs trembling as she clamped them down around his face.

A hot stream of his breath skated over her aroused clit as he dragged his tongue over it again. He did not stop – keeping up a succession of steady strokes, keeping the pressure even, letting it build. Violet squirmed in her seat. She made another sound, but this one she muffled by stuffing her own fingers into her mouth. Her hips bucked against his face and Henry kept his hands clasped against her ass, squeezing it in his hands, pushing her closer and holding her against him. He kept flicking his tongue over her clit. Faster, faster. She was going to orgasm. He could feel it.

He brought one hand back around, pushing two fingers inside of her once more. He twisted his hand, thrusting them deep, gaining enough confidence after the first few pumps to add an adventurous third. He kept thrusting his fingers inside of her, faster and faster, sucking on her clit, stroking it with his tongue. She was close, so close. He could feel her tightening around his fingers. Tighter, tighter. He could not pull them back now without feeling her hold them fast the entire way. She was getting wetter. His hand was soaked.

Violet thrust her hips again, her back arching – her orgasm nearly propelling her out of the chair. She let go of his hair and pulled her hand away from her mouth in order to grip the posts on the back. She let out a scream, and wrapped her legs around Henry’s head so that her ankles were resting against his back. Her release flowed onto his tongue and he lapped it up. She kept cumming. Again, and again, and again. He tasted her sweet release. He pushed his tongue inside of her and thrashed it around, tasting every bit.

When he was through, he finally pulled back. She allowed her legs to relax but did not have the will to unwrap them fully on her own. He untangled himself, setting her legs down gingerly and trailing kisses up her thighs as he pulled himself upright on his knees. Her breasts and face were flushed – snow pink with blood.

“You are beautiful when you blush.” He seemed very pleased with himself.

“Thankfully, you have talents outside of bringing attention to the obvious.” She puffed a strand of dark hair away from her nose. Henry’s smiled widened.

“Many talents?” He wiggled a finger against her sensitive clit. She was not expecting his touch again so soon and she kicked her feet out, nearly slamming her toes into his face. Henry laughed and grabbed hold of her ankles, landing kisses on the soft heels of her feet.

“A few.” She amended her statement through her teeth.