Restored to Love

by Anna Rockwell

  ‘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.

  ‘God forgive me.’ He whispers the words as his eyelids fall shut. He throws his head back and a deep groan fills the night air as he fills my mouth with his seed. I swallow it greedily and as I do I feel my own orgasm build. And there on my knees, on a rooftop with a stranger, without a touch but for his hands upon my head, I experience the most exquisite orgasm I have ever known. It isn’t just in my cunt. It is everywhere. It is everywhere inside of me, filling my body and my soul. I scream in abandon as I wrap my arms around his waist and fall against his legs.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper breathlessly.

  Strong arms pull me up and once again he studies my face in the same manner he had earlier that night – carefully, intently, as if memorising every contour and every freckle. It is almost imperceptible, but I see it – a pained sadness flashing in his emerald eyes. He touches his fingertips to my lips then steps back. A part of me wants to grab him, to pull him back to me, but I know that he must go, that the brief time he spent with me was a gift in and of itself. Just like everything else this night, I don’t understand it, but I know I cannot ask for more.

  ‘Remember, Julia, I’m always watching.’ He winks, turns away, and disappears down the shadowy stairs.

  For a few moments I stand alone on the roof, gazing out over the expanse of the city, trying to make sense of all that had just occurred. I feel lighter than I have ever felt in my life. I feel as if all the pain and all the weight that I have struggled with for so long has been lifted. With a deep breath I place my hands over my heart. I touch warm metal, look down, and gasp to see Gabriel’
s talisman hanging around my neck. I hold it up in the moonlight and explore its delicate beauty. My fingertips glide over what feels like writing. I flip it over and read the engraving aloud.

  No evil shall befall you, nor shall affliction come near your tent, for to His angels God has given command about you, that they guard you in all your ways.

  I never returned to that club. I knew he wouldn’t be there. And I knew I wouldn’t find myself there either.

  Awakening

  by Beverly Langland

  When I awake, the moon is descending in the pitch-black sky, signalling the darkest hour that comes before the dawn. The night is not eerily still as I expect. There is music (of sorts) coming from the old building next to the church and yes, the sound of laughter. What’s this? Gaiety on such a bleak night. The music draws me closer. Even in my misery, life beckons me each year on this night of witches. As the decades pass, my search for fulfilment, which once excited me so, grows less thrilling each time. Appeasing my longing has become more difficult as the centuries unfold. I have spent years without proper nourishment, grabbing a morsel whenever the opportunity arises. Stealing souls is wrong, I know, but then, I am already damned.

  As always, my craving for young company drags me from my place of rest. I come with an open mind. I am more tolerant of the young girls who remind me of what I have lost. There is less resentment now when I see them happy. I should let them be, yet I cannot break my ritual of corruption. Compelled to wander, I follow the music and once more enter the land of the living.

  As soon as I spot the girl, I know my resurrection has not been in vain. I am hungry, so completely hungry for love – and much more besides. She is a remarkable sight, and my pussy begins to juice as I imagine touching her, making her hunger for me in return. She has tumbling brown hair much like Anna’s, and her skin is so fair I could be looking upon my beloved. Yet, she is not Anna. I study the girl for some time, taking in what others cannot see. There is natural beauty beneath the heavy veil of black make-up she wears. The girl has deliberately tried to make herself look older than her 18 years. Yet, her actions give her immaturity away. The constant twiddling of her thin fingers, the furtive glances at every girl who passes, and the mistaken admiration she shows the corn-haired wanton standing by the bar, tell me all I need to know.

  I briefly consider the wanton. There is always at least one like her at every gathering. Her costume is daringly whorish, outrageously short and low cut, clinging to her every curve. This woman drips desirability, drawing men and boys to her like bears to honey. Yet, this golden honey pot is not for me. I am more interested in the shy girl. She has neither the courage nor the life skills to mix with the other partygoers. She sits forlornly alone on a chair in the dark corner of the room, waiting for someone to offer her the hand of friendship, blissfully unaware that her air of vulnerability has made me wet with anticipation.

  The girl watches me as I stride across the makeshift dance floor, trying to avert my gaze – for my focus is on her and her alone. I sit close, moving even closer to whisper my ‘hello’ into her ear. As I do, I catch the scent of her freshly washed hair. I linger within her fine curls longer than I should. Much longer, for there is no greater aphrodisiac than the fragrance of youth. She turns her head away slightly, unintentionally presenting me with the pale flesh of her neck. The fine line of her throat draws me, and I cannot help noticing the nervous twitching of her pulse. My mouth hovers in readiness, so close that warning bells start to ring in my head. I don’t care. This innocent already intoxicates me.

  Despite my desire, I somehow show restraint, though I place a hand high on the girl’s thigh. I feel her tense, but still she does not speak. She scoots her bottom away from me. Undeterred, I scoot closer. I feel her indignation. ‘What do you want?’ she snaps.

  ‘I’d like to get inside your knickers.’ I want so much more, but I cannot tell her of my true motive. Her face, already pink starts to turn red. I want to soak up her embarrassment. I have found something rare. Here is a true innocent and she is seemingly mine for the taking.

  I look around the room and she joins me in my surveillance. No one is coming to her rescue. ‘That is, unless you’ve had a better offer?’ The girl’s head drops. This soul is troubled. I wait, watching her nervously play with her fingers. This is not the time to harass. This is the start of what I call the long wait. The innocent has to come to her own decision. Her answer is some time coming, but this time her answer is worth my patience. ‘Can we go somewhere less noisy?’ she whispers, still staring into her lap. I cup her chin in my hand and turn her head so that she faces me. ‘Is that a yes?’ I ask.

  The girl looks around the room, trying, I suppose, to see if anyone is watching. No one is. They are too wrapped in their own affairs. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know more about me first?’

  ‘Well, I …’

  ‘Never mind.’ I lean closer, pressing my face close to hers. ‘Kiss me.’

  The girl’s eyes grow wide and she scans the room again. ‘What, here?’

  ‘We’ll go someplace quiet, petal, I promise, but an occasion such as this needs to be sealed with a kiss.’ I want to draw as much embarrassment from the girl as possible. I get my kiss – a peck so quick I barely feel the tingle of her lips, though it is enough to keep my juices flowing, the anticipation of events to follow exciting me as much as they no doubt frighten the girl. I take hold of her trembling hand and together we slink into the semi-darkness. I have no idea why this forlorn child accepted my outrageous offer so quickly. I decide not to dwell on her motives. She has her own reasons just as I have mine.

  I can’t wait to touch her. In the dimly lit stairwell, I grab a hold of her shoulders and push her flat against the cold stone wall. She gasps, surprised by my sudden aggression. In truth, I am nothing in this world, but I draw with me a dark energy that crosses realms. A force I bring to bear to hold the girl in situ. Now that she can see me in a better light, she truly becomes frightened. I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. I am not fair as I once was. The years sadly have taken their inevitable toll. I can feel her chest rise and fall beneath my pseudo weight. The girl is uncertain now. She wishes to break free from me but I cannot allow her to escape so easily. As her struggles ebb, we remain in deadlock, face-to-face, our mouths almost touching. Almost. Her warm breath feels wonderful, as does the feel of life coursing through her body. I watch the pulse on her neck quicken with a morbid fascination. She has blue-green eyes. They widen as I start to nibble on her lips, then I press harder and harder still until we are kissing proper, my tongue quietly invading her mouth.

  The girl starts to moan into my mouth as my nimble fingers trace a slow path to her centre. She is tense, but I will soon remedy that. No doubt, she wonders why she cannot move. Why she cannot resist. The reaction is always the same. Wonder. Shock. Fear. Yet, this beautiful creature has nothing to fear from me. Though I cannot promise the same of others who search as I do. Her nipples have grown hard beneath my weight. I can feel them pressing into my breasts. The girl’s confusion grows. I have perhaps come on a little strong, yet her anxiety has made her excited, made her wet. I snake my hand beneath the hem of her short skirt, my fingers quickly delving inside her panties until I reach her hot wetness. She is soft, this girl. Despite her leather clothes, she is soft. Vulnerable. So dangerously vulnerable! I can feel her heat flowing into me. I curl my fingers until her bloated pussy lips part and my fingers slip inside.

  Her eyes grow wide as I start my thrusting, making her bite her lip so hard she makes the plump flesh bleed. To see the bright red liquid is heart-warming. This child-woman has the most expressive face, her hypnotic eyes almost mesmerising as I quickly make her come on my fingers, pumping into her with the fervour of someone starved of affection and greedy for the girl’s groans of adulation. My sudden assault leaves her quietly gasping for breath. For the moment satisfied, I release my weight leaving her to stand shivering in the cold corridor. Perhaps s
he is shaking from the force of her orgasm. The latter I believe, for she stares at me with a sense of wonder on her innocent face. ‘There, that was nice wasn’t it?’ I say. She nods. In truth, I have barely touched her yet. There will be more to follow. Much more.

  I sense that fingering is the limit of her experience. She wonders what I intend next. I ease her concern when we move through the arched doorway. ‘Don’t worry,’ I whisper, ‘there’s more to come.’

  ‘There is?’

  ‘I’ve paid for you, remember, with that kiss, but before I can claim my prize we must make a detour.’ I take the girl’s hand and we head out into the night. We walk arm-in-arm to the nearby cemetery. Her brow wrinkles when she realises I mean to go inside, mean to venture into the darkness. During my brief absence the wind has picked up and the autumn leaves swirl throughout the cemetery, seemingly reluctant to land on the cold ground. The girl shivers. I do not feel the elements. Wind or rain, draught or snow do not affect me, but this does not mean that I do not feel. I feel what matters.

  Away from the church and the village green, the cemetery is at its darkest. The girl and I wind our way through the picturesque headstones, before climbing a ruined stone wall. The piled stones are hardly a wall at all but the graves in this part of the cemetery are set aside for a reason. The headstones here are much less pleasing to look at and most are crudely fashioned. They exude an air of decay and corruption impossible to miss. The girl feels the underlying menace. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she says, pulling back.

  ‘Quiet,’ I say, and just like an obedient child she follows me silently, mistakenly trusting, and foolishly taking me at my word when I say she will be safe in my arms. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I reassure the girl when she continues to hesitate. ‘You wanted to go someplace quiet, didn’t you?’