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 Aames, Aimélie

  Seduced by the Angel

  (Episode 1 of the Divine Fornication Series: An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves)

  By Aimélie Aames

  Copyright 2012 Aimélie Aames

  Cover Artwork Copyright 2012 Aimélie Aames

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This work of fiction contains sexually explicit material and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction. All of the characters involved in the sexual situations in this story are intended to be 18 years of age or older, whether they are explicitly described as such or not.

  Seduced by the Angel

  (Episode 1 of the Divine Fornication Series: An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves)

  Claire eased her apartment door shut then turned about smoothly, her white cane tapping gently down to find the soft carpet running the length of the corridor.

  She appreciated that carpet. It muffled the sounds of her heels, when she wore them, and above all, it meant that she might slip out unnoticed by Mrs. Muguet.

  Her neighbor was well meaning, of course, and wanted only to watch over the young woman. A guardian of sorts. Except that at twenty years, Claire was independent and proud of it. People like her most often were not, but Claire had no one in the whole wide world. No one but herself to fend her way through the weight of the unending darkness that had become her universe.

  She walked briskly forward, her cane trailing lightly before her. At a count of sixteen steps, she reached out and felt the wall break into a corner. She smiled. Small victories were the only thing that brightened her day. She swung her hand across at the level of most doorknobs and found the faceplate for the elevator's buttons. Without a break in motion, a gesture rooted in the firm confidence of habit, Claire tapped the lower of the two buttons and was gratified to hear the low hum of electric machinery, then just behind that, the hollow echo of the elevator lurching upward from the ground floor.

  Unfortunately, the next sound that came to Claire's ears was that of Mrs. Muguet's door. It squealed open with a sound of nails on a chalkboard, followed by a voice that grated just as much in Claire's ears.

  "Oh, Claire, honey! Hold the elevator and I'll go down with you!"

  The smooth mechanics of the door hummed into motion, and Claire practically jumped forward in her wish to escape Mrs. Muguet and her screechy voice for the entire way down. The old woman would insist that Claire take her arm and, having nothing better to do, sometimes she would walk with Claire for several blocks, all the while chittering away with her whiney, squeaky hinged voice.

  In her hurry, Claire did not tap her cane down to the elevator's linoleum tiled floor. It was a mistake that happened at times, especially for those who had come to darkness later in life. A sort of denial, she had been told once.

  Claire had replied saying that it was a curse not to have been born this way. That knowing what she would never see again was worse than not having seen it at all.

  She swung a foot forward hurriedly, thinking that later she would tell Mrs. Muguet that she had not heard her with the noise of the elevator doors opening. An uncharacteristic odor of electricity and burnt plastic filled her nose, then a wash of cool air swept across her cheeks.

  As her foot came down, she realized too late her mistake, and Claire's momentum carried her forward into the empty air where the elevator should have been.

  That strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, the one everyone feels in an elevator, flip flopped in her guts as she tipped over into the void.

  A single word passed her lips, "Oh."

  And she fell down.

  There was a clattering sound that echoed hollowly. She did not remember letting go her cane, but the sound it made as it fell was unmistakable.

  Claire had time to think that her life had been a cursed one, then in the darkness she heard a solid thud at the same moment that a thousand suns burst inside her mind. It was the first thing Claire had seen in more than eleven years. And it was the last thing she would see before she would die for the second time in her relatively short life.

  ~~~

  Her parents were arguing. Claire was not sure why, but her father was angry with her mother, and heavy tears rolled down her round cheeks as she watched the cords of her father's neck jump with each of his furious words.

  He jerked the steering wheel in his anger and Claire 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 them, pulling tenderly with a slow motion that felt as though it went on without end.

  "Yes, Claire. We have all the time we need. All the time that is necessary."

  She marveled at the musical quality of his voice. It was like listening to bells pealing, but without the harsh clamor that lined the edges of mundane bronze. If in her childhood memory his skin had been of gold, she discovered that his voice was gilded as well and only heightened the passion that was building within her.

  Claire was not sure if she was still wearing clothes, but there seemed to be nothing between her and the touch of this being. She felt hot breath for an instant before her nipple was enveloped in soft lips. His tongue fluttered across the tip and Claire arched her back, her thighs slipping open without her being aware of it.

  The wind blew around her. She was falling down a well with no bottom, and no longer cared as the weight of a man settled itself for the first time across her trim body.

  Her hands leaped to his back. His skin was smooth like that of a newborn, yet just underneath she could feel powerful muscles and sinew shifting with each of his movements.

  She cradled him between her legs, letting herself fall wide and felt the air slipping by, powerless to cool her down below where she had become heavy with wetness and heat.

  "Shall I, Claire? Is it what you want? Do you choose this of your own free will?"

  Claire's body answered for her as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  "Yes," she said. "I choose this...I want your cock inside me."

  The warmth of his body seemed to flare in intensity and then she felt the pressure of him against her folds. Claire did not shrink away. She did not hesitate. Moaning with ultimate desire, she lifted up to greet him, to welcome him home as his member slid long and gentle into her depths.

  There was a burning sensation lined in a delicious, velvet pleasure that Claire had never known. Deep, deep inside, her body cried out to receive his cock, to take it in and to hold him for an eternity as they rocked against one another in a pleasure that was divine.

  It was blasphemy, she knew, as she said, "Fuck me. Forever and ever, take me."

  Strong hands seized her buttocks as he leaned back from her while driving his hard length deep inside. Claire cried out as an electric jolt of delight blazed through her. His cock slammed into her over and over, hitting her in just the right place, so deep inside.

  Then his hands curled around her ass cheeks and a single finger stroked across her anus. She shivered at his touch. It was at once so strange and exciting.

  She knew she could have said no, but her body yearned to learn all there was to learn before it was too late, so she did not refuse the tacit question in his touch.

  With a steady pressure, all the while continuing his delicious thrusting, Claire felt his finger penetrate her ass, running in deep and coming to stroke up at the thin wall of flesh between his cock and digit.

  The sensation was overwhelming. Claire lifted up, her body stiffening as every muscle answered his call.

  With a strangled cry, she felt herself shiver from one end to the other, then deep spasms rippled through her pelvis. Muscles contracted all around the thick cock encased in her pussy while the muscles of her anus seized in tight around the finger inside her.

  Then, she felt him lose his rhythm for the first time, then came a second stutter in the long strokes that made his muscles ripple under her hands.

  A sound rose, then. There were trumpets and drums. There was the low roll of thunder that could shake mountains. There were bells sounding in brazen notes that rang without end.

  Claire heard it all and then felt the heat that blazed out from him, pouring into her as he came in thick gouts that filled her most profound depths.

  His voice roared with the sounds of majesty and all that was righteous as Claire convulsed in a second orgasm that answered his.

  The light that flooded everything around her grew brighter, more intense. It blazed in intensity until she had to slit her eyes against it with tears that ran freely down her cheeks.

  In the tumult and wind, Claire screamed out, "Are you an angel? Are you?"

  The noise grew around her, drowning all else out, as she screamed her question over and over again.

  Then, without transition, the wind died away and a quiet calm took its place. There were voices. A murmuring with a steady electronic beep in the background.

  The bright light flickered before her then receded, to be replaced by the ghostly image of an unshaven, overworked young man. He smiled a tired smile as he pocketed a tiny flashlight and said, "You gave us quite a scare young lady. But, we've got you back now and everything will be alright. So, no more talk about angels, ok? You're staying right here with us."

  Claire did not understand what was happening as she watched the kindly face shift in and out of focus, then a woman's voice said, "Doctor...I might be wrong, but I think she's looking at you."

  The doctor turned sharply back to peer at Claire, then mumbled, "But, that's not possible...."

  ~~~

  In her dream, a man came to seat himself upon the uncomfortable chair in the corner of her hospital room. It was the kind of chair one finds in places that require waiting, without any regard to repose.

  However, she was sure that was the least of the man's concerns, that uncomfortable chair. The man was on fire.

  Black flames leaped up from his hair, his shoulders. He was surrounded in rippling heat that blazed silently in darkness. There was no smoke as he regarded her calmly.

  "You're not dreaming, Claire," he said.

  Except that she was sure that she was. There had been tests once she had fully regained consciousness in the emergency room. Words of amazement, speaking of miracles that she had survived the fall with only a few minor contusions. Then the amazement turned to astonishment as staff clothed in white consulted her files, noting that she had been blind for years following the accident that had killed her parents, even if no physical injury had ever been found to be at cause.

  She was moved to a room of her own which was quickly followed by a steady procession of people poking their heads in the door to see the miracle woman.

  They told her that her heart had stopped. Nothing they tried worked to resuscitate her, and then, when all hope was lost and the doctor was about to declare the time of death, her pulse came back strong and clear.

  Claire watched their mouths as they spoke, fascinated.
The tiny workings of muscles that formed words upon their lips. The smallest detail was of an interest she could not explain.

  She saw everything, the veil of darkness torn away. It was unbearable to close her eyes, to see the void return, until finally, simple exhaustion had carried her off to dreamless sleep.

  But, now she dreamed. She was sure of it. People do not sit quietly while burning alive.

  He shifted slightly upon the uncomfortable chair and through the black flames, Claire saw the outline of dark wings. They were enormous, feathered in gorgeous plumes that shifted in dark iridescence.

  She understood, then. This was not her golden angel, but Death come to take her, after all.

  Claire opened her eyes to the dim light filtering through the hospital room's window. Night had fallen and the man sitting in the shadows across from her leaned forward. He was dressed in an elegant business suit and the flames and wings were no longer there.

  "You see me, don't you?" the man asked, lifting a hand to stroke his chin, brows furrowed.

  Claire replied, "I'm not blind anymore. They said so, and I see everything."

  She knew her words were disconnected, barely making sense.

  "It's just that I don't want you to see, me," he said, "Yet, you do."

  She did not understand what he meant.

  "I'm sorry...?"

  "Oh, don't be sorry, Claire Sawyer. Malakh has gifted you with a vision without precedent. My brethren and I possess singular abilities, not the least of which is the ability to remain hidden, even from one another, with no more effort than a thought.

  "But there you lie, seeing me. Despite me..."

  She decided that the man was insane. Even if he was dressed in a gorgeous, probably custom-made suit, and everything about him spoke of elegance and charm, he was most certainly out of his mind.

  "...and I want to know why," he continued, his voice pensive and reserved.