Read Online Seduced by the Angel (Divine Fornication I--An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves (Divine Fornication (An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves)) by Aimélie Aames - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Aimélie Aames
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felt the car lurch. Her mother cried out, which only frightened the little girl in the back seat even worse.
Then, in the darkness outside Claire's window, she saw the smiling man. Rain drops trailed jaggedly across the glass and the man was there, just beside the moving car, his face bright and shining despite the darkness of night.
He winked at Claire, his smile wide, and she stopped crying, surprised and wondering how the man could be just outside her window while the car roared down the black highway.
His face shone like gold and when he saw that Claire had stopped crying he nodded as if he wanted to reassure her. Claire blinked both her eyes, trying to wink back at him, except that she was still too little to know how to do it right.
When she opened her eyes, the man was gone, then she heard her father shout, "Holy...!" before the sound of screeching brakes erupted and the car began a sickening slalom across the macadam.
The shining man had appeared before the speeding car, standing with his hands on his hips in the middle of the road. Claire could not see him from the backseat while her father shouted, wrenching the steering wheel to the side.
Her mother's scream melded with the screaming car brakes, then the world turned over and Claire saw everything turning around as if she were at the laundromat watching clothes rolling over and over through the round glass doors. Except this time, she was on the wrong side of that window, then darkness came to claim her.
~~~
The wind howled in Claire's ears. She was falling, twisting slowly like maple seed through air that felt as thick as water.
In the emptiness, she heard a voice and instantly, Claire knew that it belonged to a man she had seen just once before, a man clothed in a skin of gold with a smile that shone with the light of the sun.
"A ring, a ring o' rosies,
A pocket full o’posies-
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down."
His voice was musical and light, almost humorous.
With no warning, Claire felt warm hands upon her face. His touch was gentle as he intoned, "Have no fear, little one. I am here, as I always have been."
The scent of exotic spices filled her nose. His odor was a rainbow of citrus and sandalwood. Cinnamon and ginger. And under it all, there was the scent of a man in his prime. Youthful and powerful.
Claire could not have said why, but it was as though she could smell heavy muscles sliding under golden skin.
Then, in the darkness, there was a growing light. She gasped and understood that she was falling to her death. Or, had already fallen and lay bleeding the last of her life's blood out at the bottom of an elevator shaft.
With no sense, in the rational illogic belonging to the dreaming, all Claire could think of was the terrible ache that his voice had awakened between her legs. She had never known a man. Damaged goods, as they say, and her sexual experiences were limited to furtive touching, alone in her own bed, that finished in weak tremblings that left her unsatisfied and unaccountably sad.
But now, in her last extremity, the warmth of his golden hands upon her face, Claire felt an itch deep inside.
The light grew to suffuse everything around her yet did nothing to relieve her blindness. She saw nothing, but felt those warm hands, gentle as ever, slip down the sides of her neck to rest briefly upon her shoulders.
Her own smile stretched her lips. Of that she was sure and she thought that if this is what it was to die, then it might not be so bad.
The scent of spices accented in a man's rich musk filled her nostrils. Then those wonderful, hot hands drifted down to cup her breasts.
Claire laughed. It was ridiculous to be at death's door and discover that she was ticklish. A soft chuckle answered her and thumbs she could not see stroked across her nipples.
The laughter in her throat died away to become a low moan, then her breath caught as unseen fingers rolled her nipples between
Then, in the darkness outside Claire's window, she saw the smiling man. Rain drops trailed jaggedly across the glass and the man was there, just beside the moving car, his face bright and shining despite the darkness of night.
He winked at Claire, his smile wide, and she stopped crying, surprised and wondering how the man could be just outside her window while the car roared down the black highway.
His face shone like gold and when he saw that Claire had stopped crying he nodded as if he wanted to reassure her. Claire blinked both her eyes, trying to wink back at him, except that she was still too little to know how to do it right.
When she opened her eyes, the man was gone, then she heard her father shout, "Holy...!" before the sound of screeching brakes erupted and the car began a sickening slalom across the macadam.
The shining man had appeared before the speeding car, standing with his hands on his hips in the middle of the road. Claire could not see him from the backseat while her father shouted, wrenching the steering wheel to the side.
Her mother's scream melded with the screaming car brakes, then the world turned over and Claire saw everything turning around as if she were at the laundromat watching clothes rolling over and over through the round glass doors. Except this time, she was on the wrong side of that window, then darkness came to claim her.
~~~
The wind howled in Claire's ears. She was falling, twisting slowly like maple seed through air that felt as thick as water.
In the emptiness, she heard a voice and instantly, Claire knew that it belonged to a man she had seen just once before, a man clothed in a skin of gold with a smile that shone with the light of the sun.
"A ring, a ring o' rosies,
A pocket full o’posies-
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down."
His voice was musical and light, almost humorous.
With no warning, Claire felt warm hands upon her face. His touch was gentle as he intoned, "Have no fear, little one. I am here, as I always have been."
The scent of exotic spices filled her nose. His odor was a rainbow of citrus and sandalwood. Cinnamon and ginger. And under it all, there was the scent of a man in his prime. Youthful and powerful.
Claire could not have said why, but it was as though she could smell heavy muscles sliding under golden skin.
Then, in the darkness, there was a growing light. She gasped and understood that she was falling to her death. Or, had already fallen and lay bleeding the last of her life's blood out at the bottom of an elevator shaft.
With no sense, in the rational illogic belonging to the dreaming, all Claire could think of was the terrible ache that his voice had awakened between her legs. She had never known a man. Damaged goods, as they say, and her sexual experiences were limited to furtive touching, alone in her own bed, that finished in weak tremblings that left her unsatisfied and unaccountably sad.
But now, in her last extremity, the warmth of his golden hands upon her face, Claire felt an itch deep inside.
The light grew to suffuse everything around her yet did nothing to relieve her blindness. She saw nothing, but felt those warm hands, gentle as ever, slip down the sides of her neck to rest briefly upon her shoulders.
Her own smile stretched her lips. Of that she was sure and she thought that if this is what it was to die, then it might not be so bad.
The scent of spices accented in a man's rich musk filled her nostrils. Then those wonderful, hot hands drifted down to cup her breasts.
Claire laughed. It was ridiculous to be at death's door and discover that she was ticklish. A soft chuckle answered her and thumbs she could not see stroked across her nipples.
The laughter in her throat died away to become a low moan, then her breath caught as unseen fingers rolled her nipples between
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