The Cellar Ch. 02

The gaiety with which Annette danced through Joelle's open door was unsettling, to say the very least.

"Happy news!" Annette chirped, throwing open Joelle's closet door. "I found you a permanent residence down on Atlantic."

"I thought I was going into sober living next week?" she muttered, unable to share in Annette's enthusiasm.

"Change of plans," Annette tweeted, "pack up, we leave in an hour."

Joelle's mind was immediately consumed by Lucien. They had broached the topic of her leaving, but only peripherally. Though he had made no commitment to see her once she'd gone, it was her hope that with some encouragement, and a little teasing, he might agree. At the very least, she thought she would have a week to work on him.

"Alright," she sighed as Annette pranced from the room.

Never before had Joelle packed so quickly, not even when an angry pimp named Shade had threatened to burn her alive. But with great urgency she flooded her suitcases and tossed them recklessly into the hall.

At blinding speed she raced to the cellar. Throwing open every door and exploring every crevice, she called his name with mounting desperation. But never did he answer.

So, in agonizing defeat, she fell wasted to the cold cellar floor, a stinging pain consuming her chest.

It was an odd sensation. Certainly their times together were phenomenal, and she looked forward to his nightly visits, but never once had she lost sight of who he was. Regardless of his charm and startling intellect, and despite his staggering good looks and obvious talents, he was nonetheless demon and that didn't exactly make for great boyfriend material.

However, as she hefted her suitcases into Annette's trunk, it was impossible to ignore the feelings of loss. And as The Center disappeared from sight, she wondered whether their paths might cross again.

***

The apartment was appalling. It not only reeked of urine and stale beer, but it had the largest population of cockroaches Joelle had ever seen.

"Do they need to be walked or are they housebroken?" she asked, nodding to a sink full of wriggling bodies.

"I know it's not much, but with a little love and some paint, you can make it what you choose," Annette's voice sang, its melodic tone more cheerful than any Joelle had ever experienced.

"Yeah, sure, I can totally see that." Joelle shrugged, cringing internally.

Paint wasn't going to do a damn thing, other than add another layer of funk to the room. Besides, what required her immediate attention were the gaggles of roaches hosting a kegger on the television stand.

It took three days and six cans of Raid to get the little bastards under control, but regardless of the minor improvements, every night she found herself lumped in a ball on the floor.

Lucien was a near constant thought and an ever-present desire. On more than one occasion, Joelle had awoken to find her fingers wedged deep inside her longing walls, dreaming they were his. The thought of his mouth and the sweetness of his tongue kept her up at night.

Twice she had tried to go back to The Center in the hopes of finding Lucien, but both times she had been driven off by the evening supervisor.

"Stupid, jerk," she grumbled, tucking herself in against the sofa. "Got me strung out like a fucking junkie – again."

It was becoming clear that she would have to find a way to be okay with the thing left unsaid and unfinished between them. So she held her head high, flicked a roach from her shoe, and resolved that tomorrow would be a better day.

With feigned enthusiasm, Joelle applied for any job she came across, but found it more than a little difficult to explain the span of time between high school and twenty one. It occurred to her that writing "prostitute" in the space provided for previous employment, was probably not the best idea, so she just left it blank. Needless to say, nobody ever called for an interview.

And so, with a burdened heart, she resumed her battle against the proliferation of pests, worked her twelve-step program and did her best to mold a new life from the pile of shit she had been handed.

But on the morning of the eighth day, life changed again.

"You left," the beautifully deep voice called from beyond her closed door.

Dropping the dustpan, Joelle rushed to open the door and when her eyes met Lucien's wonderful face, she forgot to breathe.

In daylight he was even more stunning. His eyes shone brilliant emerald in the refracted light that spilled from the clouded windows; the perfection of his physique was accentuated by the custom tailored, button-down shirt that clung to his broad chest; glints of sunlight illuminated the wisps of his hair, and they shone like the delicate feathers of a raven's wing. He was beautiful.

"Did I not treat you well?" Lucien asked, sounding mildly offended.

Though she struggled desperately to maintain her composure, she failed miserably and bounced through the door, launching like a monkey into his arms.

It took less than a second to find his mouth, the taste and feel of it more spectacular than she had remembered. And as her legs constricted around his waist, his strong hands cupped her ass while returning her kiss with equal zeal.

With the first intake of breathe since she'd opened the door, she gasped. "You treated me very well."

But as his mouth drifted down her neck and between the V of her shirt, her breath was quickly stolen again.

"Were you aware there is now a Sharon in your bed?" he spat, letting her slide gently to the floor. "She is most annoying."

"Perhaps you caught her off guard," Joelle tittered, unable to pry her hands from his neck.

"Perhaps," he conceded. "So had you intended to say goodbye?"

"Annette only gave me an hour's notice. I did try though."

"Annette – I see," he growled, "so is this where you now reside?"

His eyes swept the dusty cavities of cracked drywall and forgotten wallpaper, stopping briefly to inspect the dustpan filled with tiny brown, exoskeletal corpses.

"Hey, don't hate on the new digs," she grumbled, "it's all I have."

Lucien shook his head in disgust.

A sickly fug permeated the room, wiping away her lovely scent and leaving behind a repulsive fetor, which clung like sap to her skin. It stole from his tongue the lingering taste of her mouth. It was no surprise why Annette had moved her there, it had been nearly impossible to find Joelle through the stench.

"My apologies for taking so long to find you, I could barely smell you through the corruption of this place," with a curl of his lip, he snarled.

Softly she kissed his neck and whispered, "apology accepted."

"Come," he coaxed, grasping her hand, "I won't have you stay here a moment longer."

Lucien could not bear to release her hand; there was something hypnotic about her skin. The scent drove him wild and the mere touch of it made his mouth water.

Feeling her warmth also provided a perfect distraction from the torturous twisting of his insides. The night belonged to him, but the daylight was under the control of someone else, and that someone did not take kindly to the violation of rules.

So it was with great haste that they drove toward the safety of his home, each snaking road growing darker under the thickening canopy of trees and each twist and turn providing another modicum of relief.

Joelle looked on in awe as the tiny dirt road they'd been travelling for miles, finally spit them out into an oasis of lush meadow, nestled deep in the bosom of aboriginal forest. In its midst, seemingly out of place for the geography and era, but nonetheless spectacular, appeared a plantation-style manor.

But before she had an opportunity to truly admire it, the car had come to a stop and Joelle was wrapped in Lucien's arms, with the world flying past in kaleidoscope of colors.

Within seconds she found herself spilled upon his bed as his hands worked feverishly to undress her. His mouth, hungry and wild, twining with hers.

"Oh!" Joelle gasped, as his fingers thrust inside her.

The intensity of his assault on her delicate flesh was a little shocking. It seemed as though he was intent on pounding all the way to her throat. Yet there was something delicious about the pain and within moments of finding him inside her, she felt her muscles clench tightly around his fingers as a deluge of orgasm flooded her loins.

"Just a little something to tide me over," he cooed in her ear as her body twisted against his hand.

Lucien pulled her mangled body to the edge of the bed and slipped between her legs, relieving her ache with the splendor of his mouth. And she graciously provided what he sought, a snack.

"That's it? You make me cum and then you disappear?" she said breathlessly as he tossed her his robe.

"I am afraid so, the daylight is not exactly my ally. I must retire for now, but I will see you again this evening and we will finish this properly," he purred, once again slipping his fingers inside her pleading walls.

"Feel free to explore, there are no secrets here," he whispered, leaving behind the warm traces of his mouth against her forehead.

***

Joelle trotted down the imperial staircase which lunated the foyer, stopping to admire the wrought iron chandelier which dripped from the vaulted ceiling. It was a beautiful home, perhaps a little austere for her tastes, but nonetheless remarkable.

With intense curiosity, she explored Lucien's home for hours, peeking in every room, toying with the electronics and examining his extensive collection of books. Her fingers withdrew a hefty tome of Latin writings and perused at length, the depictions of angels and demons, heaven and hell.

But during her time amongst his things, never once did she open a single drawer or cabinet. Though he had said there were no secrets, she much preferred to hear about his life from him, as opposed to unveiling it for herself.

When the last wisps of sunlight slipped behind the mountains, a shroud of darkness quickly consumed its remaining essence, leaving her feeling very much alone. After a few tense minutes in his library, Joelle found herself fleeing to Lucien's room and immersing herself in the safety of his scent.

"I thought we had agreed you would sleep naked?" Lucien roused her from sleep, pulling his robe from her enchanting body.

"I was scared," she muttered.

"Scared?" he asked, "of what?"

It was an odd thing to feel under the circumstances. Joelle should have run screaming from his home that morning, yet there she was, wrapped in his robe and seeking comfort in his bed.

"It's creepy outside. There's no light and nothing but the sound of owls – it's scary," her body shuddered as she mewled, "I'm a city girl."

Unable to contain his amusement, he folded in boisterous laughter.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," he guffawed, "you have spent three months entertaining a servant of Lucifer in your bed; you offer yourself to him without reservation, and at the slightest provocation; you walk willingly into his home, yet the sounds of an owl frighten you?"

"Well when you put it that way it just sounds stupid!" she snapped.

"It's not stupid," he chortled, but when he leaned in to kiss her scowling mouth, he was sharply rebuffed. "Silly maybe, but never stupid," he corrected.

"Silly?" angrily she retorted.

Lucien wedged his hips between her clenched thighs and kissed along the gentle curves of her neck.

"I am heartily sorry," he soothed, rolling his tongue around the delicate slope of her breast.

"Never did I intend to offend you," he lulled, nibbling at the flesh of her hip.

"Will you forgive me?" tenderly he prodded as his mouth traced soft, floating circles around the concave of her abdomen.

When she failed to respond, he knew she was far too distracted to remember why she had been so angry. Good, he wasn't about to let some foolish little quarrel get in the way of their delectation, it had been more than a week since he had enjoyed her properly.

"Oh fuck," Joelle gasped, "Lucien!" From his breath alone, her pelvis twitched.

Shit, how on earth could he do that? Not so much as a whisper of his skin had touched her flesh and it was already screaming.

"Please," she pleaded.

"Open your eyes Joelle," he commanded, "I prefer you to watch."

It had never even occurred to her to watch, but it was an appealing suggestion, and her eyes sprung open at the temptation of this new idea.

"Very good," he purred, "now spread your legs for me."

"They are," she noted breathlessly.

"Farther," he coaxed.

Joelle slid her hands down her thighs, hooking them behind her knees and wrenching them farther apart. Eagerly she sought his eyes, beseeching his acceptance and praying that she had pleased him.

"Joelle – I have asked you to comply, quite nicely I might add," his voice thickened as his eyes narrowed, extinguishing the emerald from his irises. "Now spread your fucking legs," he growled.

Without a complaining word, she slavishly nodded and pushed hard against her knees, proffering herself to him.

"That will never do," he sighed. With a quick thrust of his palms, he pinned her knees against the mattress, spreading her to the point of pain. "There, that is so much better. I trust you can see?"

Unable to produce words, and quivering from the ache in her hips, she merely nodded, completely turned on.

"Good. Now how perfect is that?" he asked, weaving his fingers between the cleavage of her vulva while his breath blew warm tickling kisses against the perfection of her skin. "Did you miss me?"

"Uh huh," she gulped, still unable to conjugate a verb.

With his fingertips, he drummed against her most delicate of flesh, playing upon her skin with the skill of a concert pianist. A flash of his tongue incited a spasm, which spread like a spider web of lightning through her pelvis.

Lucien watched in delight as she twitched riotously from the mere roll of his tongue. Joelle was in the perfect state to test the boundaries of rapture and tonight, he had in store for her a very special surprise.

Again his breath blew hot against her trembling flesh and when she bit her lip in anticipation of his tongue, his finger struck her pleading clit like a whip.

"Ouch!" she yowled.

"Joelle, shush," coolly he reprimanded.

Again and again he flicked her throbbing flesh, occasionally drawing back and offering an especially hard thwack.

The shock of stinging thrashes enraged her flesh and flushed her labia a hostile shade of pink. When her clit neared crimson, he snaked his taunting tongue across it and glided a soothing finger between her tingling lips.

It seemed he was content to repeat this process indefinitely, delighting in her twisted expression and the absolute agony he was causing.

Though it was clear he had no desire to do her harm, there was something about her torment that seemed to tickle him in the most peculiar way.

"Please Lucien," she squealed, "I can't take anymore!"

But Lucien persisted, filling her with prickly pain and soothing her with the warmth of his mouth. In agonizing ecstasy her body responded with a sudden rush of orgasm, the intensity peaking when his mouth moved to consume her.

When the fluttering in her pelvis dissipated, her eyes fixed on his fingers as he worked her clit between them, bearing down until she yelped. Only at that point, did he reward her submission with the full splendor of his mouth.

Joelle craned her neck as his tongue swept lazily across her clit, occasionally teasing and tugging it between his lips.

"Oh, fuck!" she screamed as he nipped her swollen flesh.

A soft chuckle escaped his throat as his wicked eyes locked on her.

The undulations of pleasure and pain were terrifyingly delightful, never before had such agony caused such delicious reward.

Transfixed, she stared as he delicately teased his fingers inside her, one by one. Together they worked in slow, probing circles around the edges of her labia.

When her back relaxed from the pleasure of his touch, he slammed them home, sending waves of spasm through her core. Joelle screamed as he hooked his fingers against her g-spot, toiling deep inside, as his mouth ravaged her clit.

A tilt of her hips afforded a clearer view of his glorious tongue, as it worked at fevered pitch to bring her to orgasm. Just the visual alone was enough to make her cum. Lucien had a magnificent mouth and she stared in amazement as her abdomen shuddered from its touch.

The muscles in her pelvis tightened as she bore down against him, unable to control the looming ecstasy that percolated her loins. She tore his hand from her hip and pressed it firmly against her pelvis, pushing with every ounce of force to reproduce the sensation she had felt on their first night together.

With a gleaming smile in his eyes, Lucien pressed hard against her pelvis, unifying his hands and doubling their potency.

"Shit!" she screamed as she worked her hips in sync with his hands, his tongue swirling, lush and plump, around her pulsing clit. "Fuck!" she roared, arching her back as a wave of orgasm claimed her body.

Heavier still, he pressed against her abdomen, intent on draining every last ounce of pleasure, prepared to take her beyond any point they had ever reached before.

Drawing her clit deep into his mouth, he strummed it with tickling, vibrating strokes. His tongue palpitated against her flesh while his fingers played against her g-spot, heightening its sensitivity by manipulating her pelvis with the powerful force of his hand.

With a thrust of her hip she pressed hard against his mouth and, as if to reprimand her impetuous act, his teeth offered another painful nip and then withdrew from her completely.

"No, no, no! Please Lucien, no!" she wailed as he left her to linger on the edge of orgasm. Desperate to relieve her ache, she clawed at his shoulders, pleading with him to return.

"Behave yourself," he scolded.

"I will, please, I promise," she blurted, as she watched his finger drift tauntingly around the cleft of her throbbing labia.

After a few teasing minutes, Lucien unleashed the full fury of his arsenal and with blinding force, he returned to her. An explosive moan roared from her lungs as spasm consumed her core in an eruption of orgasm. In rapid succession they tore through her loins, first one and then another, a third and then a forth, until finally it was too much.

"Please," she choked through the raging storm of rapture, "stop, I can't take anymore!"

Not content to release her and knowing she was on the verge of collapse, he strummed her clit with renewed vigor. Pushing harder against her pelvis, he rolled his fingers against her most sensitive spot. With a whimper, Joelle fell limp against the bed and her eyes rolled back as she succumbed yet again.

Watching Joelle squirm was beyond delightful. There was such pleasure to be had in seeing her ecstasy. Never before had Lucien bore witness to this level of fevered excitement.

The vision of her lovely body, bending and twisting from his every touch was a memory he would bear the rest of his days. And he could not help but smile when violently she arched her back, driving hard against his hand as she screamed again.

Lucien enjoyed the rewards of her pleasure for hours. It appeared as though their time apart had only served to bolster her arousal and provide a veritable bottomless pit of orgasm. Perhaps they should take these breaks more often, he thought.

It was a fleeting idea, the notion of her being in his bed and refraining from her delectableness, was absurd. And the concept of her not being in his bed at all, was even more ludicrous.

Though he allowed her the appropriate lengths and intervals of time to replenish her stores – going so far as to provide her a midnight snack, which was yet another first for him – by the time the first touches of light curled across the eastern mountaintops, she was completely spent.