He did not move and she drew back, looking up at him.
"Surely you can do better than that," he told her. "I said the performance must be convincing."
Refusing to look at Erik, she stepped forward again. Pulling in a deep breath, she lifted her arms, and felt her breasts rise from behind the corset as she slid her fingers around the back of Philippe's neck. Bringing his head down, she rose on her toes to kiss him, moving her lips over his in sensual, sleek strokes. From the shift of his breath, she knew she had been successful, yet he did not move.
She kissed more frantically, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to taste his tobacco and wine-scented tongue, and bringing her hips forward into his, where his erection told her she'd had an effect.
Christine stepped away again, breathing heavily, and his hand lashed out to grab her wrist. "That was an adequate beginning, Miss Daaé." He yanked her back up against him. He looked down at her, forcing her wrist straight down along his thigh, and sliding his other hand between them to fondle her breast. "Why stop now?"
"I thought… I thought we could move somewhere more comfortable," she said, trying to make her voice and expression coy. She did not want to do this in front of Erik. "To the boudoir."
"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Philippe smiled down at her, twitching his finger over her nipple in a rough rhythm that sent little sparks to her belly. Christine swallowed, shocked that her body would respond so quickly… so easily… in such a situation. "But we wouldn't want my brother to miss the show, would we?" He glanced back over his shoulder to where Erik stood, then smiled back down at Christine.
Her throat dried. "You are evil," she whispered into his face, even as the languid stroking over her nipple caused her quim to swell and burn with arousal.
"Not evil," he told her, "merely obsessed with beauty. And determined to get what I want. Now, off with your clothes. You are wasting time."
Christine cast a glance at Raoul, who appeared to be little affected by his brother's orders, despite his pronouncements of affection for her. In fact, his eyes seemed to glitter a bit brighter.
She did not dare look at Erik. If she did, she couldn't go through with this. But she would do this for him, for them. It was only sex. She could do it.
"Now, Christine," Philippe said sharply. He tautened the rope around his wrist, giving a threatening yank. Erik gasped and coughed, and Christine spared him a brief look.
"I will… Please… let him breathe," she begged. She met Philippe's eyes and drew in another deep breath, then placed her hands over the top of her corset and pulled it down suddenly.
Philippe moved slightly, and Erik's horrible choking stopped. But his tortured breathing rasped in the air, and she could not look at him.
Her breasts were bare, and Philippe smiled as he looked at them. He sat back in his chair and waited, and Christine felt Raoul behind her. Before she could react, Raoul gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place under the long curls of hair, tight enough that she hardly dared breathe. With a swift, rough motion, he pulled at the laces Madame Giry had done up only hours before and yanked the corset down and off, whipping it away. Her skirts and crinolines dropped to the floor, leaving her bare to everyone.
Raoul hissed in a deep breath, and positioned her wrists behind her so that he could cover her lips with a harsh, passionate kiss. Christine closed her eyes, kissing him back, feeling the shameful way her nipples tightened and moisture pooled between her legs as she was held prisoner.
As Raoul kissed her, his fingers tight on her jaw and her hands clasped behind her back, trapped between her ass and his bulging erection, she felt a movement in front of her. Philippe's teeth closed over one of her breasts, tight enough to hurt, but not hard enough to break the skin. Pinching and fondling her other breast, he teased her nipple with his teeth, nibbling over the very front of the sensitive part, then using his tongue to slide over it.
She twitched and jerked as the pleasure-pain caused her body to tighten and moisten and swell. Raoul's hand—at least, she thought it was Raoul's hand—slipped down between her legs, sliding through the growing wetness there as she trembled inside. Her breathing was raspier, and her eyes closed… she couldn't think about what was happening. She just had to get through it.
Philippe moved to her other breast and sucked gently, as though to contrast with his rough attention to her first nipple, and she reacted to that by arching her back, pushing into his face. Raoul had finished kissing her, leaving her mouth to open and gasp when he bit at her shoulder.
Erik was still half-hanging by his neck, his arms still pinioned behind him. His eyes were closed, one with dark lashes marking his cheek, and the other with the lashless lid hanging awkwardly to one side, drawn into an obscene shape. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his nostrils flaring as though to drag in as much air as possible.
Christine jerked her attention away, relieved that Erik was not watching… although he could hear. He could hear every sigh, every lick and suck, and the moist sounds of fingers sliding through her sex, the shifting of skin against clothing.
"You! Open your eyes!" Philippe shouted, and Christine realized he was talking to Erik. "Open them and watch… Watch everything, or I'll cut her throat when I'm done with her."
"It wouldn't be the first time," Erik managed to growl, his eyes bloodshot red and burning with deep fury.
Christine braced herself for Philippe's response, expecting violence, but he merely laughed. "Ah, you still have some spirit. It must be getting difficult for you, Erik. Well, just wait. It'll only get worse." He pushed Christine down onto her knees before him.
Raoul moved closer. He'd opened his trousers and his cock roared free, red and purple, and glistening at the tip, at her eye level. He took her by the back of her neck and brought his cock to her mouth. "Open up, my dear. It's not as if it's the first time."
Christine opened her mouth. He slid in, all the way, and she could barely hold her jaws open wide enough. He touched the back of her throat and she gagged, coughing around him… and then he began to move slowly in and out, never fully withdrawing, but enough that it was a long slide back in… and out… in… and out.
"Now, Raoul," she heard Philippe say.
And before Christine knew what was happening, she heard a scuffle, and looked up to see Erik, standing in front of her, where Raoul had been moments before.
His hips were eye level with her, and his trousers open, displaying his lovely, throbbing cock. She tipped her head back, horrified, and saw that he was looking down at her with wild eyes, the good side of his face tense and drawn, the rope biting into his neck, and Raoul standing behind him, pushing him forward.
"Do it, Christine," Philippe ordered, his voice strained. "Do it, now!"
She closed her eyes opened her mouth, and Erik slid in.
Mon Dieu… it was Erik. Warm, thick, full… she tasted him, focused on him instead of what was happening around her.
He slid frantically in and out, her saliva easing the way, as Raoul grabbed her breasts, pushing them up against her, knocking her off-balance so that she grabbed at Erik's thighs to hold herself steady.
Erik gave a long, choking cry and shot his seed into the back of her throat.
She dropped to the floor, exhausted, sore, drained.
Raoul stuffed his sagging cock back into his trousers. Philippe looked down at her from his position against the wall. His eyes glittered with lust and she feared for a moment he would demand she come to him.
Christine looked up, hardly daring to see what condition Erik was in.
He half hung against the wall, his marked face more stark than ever before. His cock hung, sated, to one side. His expression was bleak, defeated. He did not look at her.
Christine struggled to her feet, her knees and legs trembling. She clutched at a chair to gain her balance, and looked for something to draw over her body.
A blanket… she saw one, and reached for it, pulling it over her shoulders. Then she staggered to Erik's side, wrapping her arms around him, trying to pry the rope loose from his neck.
"Please… let us go now," she said to Philippe.
He cocked his head, listening… and a smile curled his lips. "Do you hear that?"
She listened, and heard, in the distance, the sounds of shouting. Horrible sounds, angry ones… and her blood chilled. "What is it?"
"They are coming for him." His smile broadened. "I did not expect them so soon, but at least we had finished our business first. Now, Christine, you have a choice."
"A choice?"
"I'm afraid after that performance, my brother and I aren't quite willing to let you be torn to pieces by the mob. Nor are we quite willing to allow this murderer to be set free. After all, he is a very dangerous man."
"But you agreed—"
"I said that we would come to some arrangement that would be agreeable to both of us. And I think we still can. Listen… they are coming closer. Raoul, why do you not go and find them… bring them here? Then things will be over very quickly."
"No!" Christine shouted, tears swimming in her eyes as she clutched at Erik, frantically trying to pull the rope loose. "No! Please!"