A Cure For Moonlight Ch 02

He watched her from across the narrow road. Her balcony was only yards from his. He grinned at how sneaky he had been, leasing this little apartment, sneaking into her place and carefully pulling back the curtains just enough to give himself glimpses into her life. His hands still shook at the idea of being able to see into her world. He only saw her at night, it was if she only existed when the rest of the world was stuck in darkness and slumber. He remembered the first time she breezed past him, the creamy, spicy floral musk that followed her like a faint aura was heavenly. She was his. She just didn't know it yet.

Through the slightly parted curtains he saw her wearily come in, toss her coat carelessly, languidly unbutton the deep violet blouse that offset the caramelized ginger of her hair. It floated to the ground as she peeled her jeans off her legs, he felt that he was seeing something he shouldn't and his stomach floated into his throat, his pulse quickened as he took in the milky white of her skin. She was so pale, he hadn't ever seen anything or anyone like her. She was luminous and ethereal. Her back arched as she pulled off her undershirt, her ribs and flat middle reminded him of a cat stretching. He felt his heart throbbing in his ears and against the thick fabric of his jeans. She let her panties fall to the floor and reached in to test the warmth of the bath and he saw all of her for the briefest moment, pink and untouched.

She turned from the bath, towards him and he could see the pale curves of her, the pink tips of her breasts, just heavy enough to be rounded and still pert. She bent at the waist and touched the floor, her hair falling from her shoulders as she worked her body. The straight line of her spine changed as she pushed her hips to the floor and bent up and back, revealing her tits again, the line of her neck as it curved into her chin. He imagined making her bend like that. Bend to his will. She stuck her bottom in the air again and straightened. He could swear for a microsecond that she saw him. Yes, she saw him and he knew she would want him.

He watched as she shaved under her arms, then her legs. Her eyes closed and her head rolled back against the cushion behind her shoulders. The bubbles of the bath hiding her deliciously. One leg rested on the edge of the claw foot tub and the bubbles followed the line of her up, up her thigh and back into the water. He wanted to be those bubbles. If he were those bubbles, the places he would go. Reaching down, he unbuttoned his pants. His member ached from being cooped up and he still watched through the curtains, through the binoculars. Suddenly she tossed the razor out of his vision. The sudden movement startled him. She had been so sensuous and slow with everything since she walked through that door.

Her silky face looked relaxed, yet concentrated on something behind those satiny closed lids. Her lips parted slightly and he imagined running his fingers over them. Tasting the sweetness that lay behind them. Slowly, she sunk out of view, beneath the surface, behind wall of the tub. He cursed and wished he had x-ray vision so he could watch her, she must be washing her beautiful, fiery hair. He wanted to run his hand through those waves and loose curls, to entwine his fingers against her scalp and watch her take him. He imagined making her beg and plead. He began to pull at himself, gently at first, then harder as he imagined a look of pain, fear, respect and admiration on her face as he violated her. He jerked harder, slower, imagined again, her smell. Suddenly his heart skipped a beat as she broke the surface of the water and filled her lungs. He gasped and realized he had been holding his breath too. She stood from the water and again he felt like their eyes met. He yanked on his hard cock faster and faster and she broke the smoldering stare and reached for a towel.

His pace became more insistent as she dried herself, first her hair, shaking her fingers through the wet curls, he watched as she dried her breasts, the way they moved and jiggled a little as she dried and released each one. Finally she propped a leg up on the tub again and dried between her legs. He felt himself on the edge and he finally came, with a moan, watching her touch herself. He would make her touch herself in front of him, it was something to add to his list. He looked down and found a picture he had taken of her walking away from her place was covered in his cum. He smirked and thought, to himself that it would be soon. He would fill her over and over and she would beg for more, cry for mercy. She walked into her bedroom, briefly disappearing from view and then he saw her marble white feet on the sliver of her bed that was visible to him. His Nightfallen Angel. Perfect, and ripe and innocent and just waiting for him to own her, possess her, break her. He would break her. He would crush her, and rebuild her to worship him. She would serve him and he would hurt her and love her. He would violate her and put her on a pedestal.

Zipping himself up, he grabbed the semen covered picture and pinned it on the wall. The shrine he was just beginning. He needed to study her, so he could know what she liked and what she hated. He smiled as he watched his juice dribbled across her face and onto the floor. He really needed to get back to work and his excitement was already building for tomorrow. She was such a creature of habit. He already knew this and he had only been following her for a few months. Now that he'd made the commitment of getting them a little love nest, he knew she would be his soon. He looked again at her foot, glowing in the light of the full moon. He imagined her sleeping, peacefully and he began to feel turned on again.

Shaking her from him mind he locked the door behind him and whistled to himself as he played with his keys. He felt happy, accomplished and hopeful as his feet pounded the pavement back to work. Suddenly, his feet stopped. He realized he needed more. Just a little more. His tune changed, and then dithered out as he began to plot and plan. He must be careful, she wasn't ready for him yet. He turned on his heels and dashed back up the stairs to their future home. Her place of rebirth and grabbed a black bag. Unclipping a ring with two keys, one silver and one brass, he tossed the rest on the shoddy desk. They would be too loud.

Taking the stairs of her place by twos, he reached her door in no time. Slowly, he put the key he'd had made in the knob and turned it. The tumbler inside fell into place and allowed him in. He tutted under his breath at the mess. She would have to learn. Without being able to help himself, he compulsively hung her coat, picked up her laundry, folded it and placed it in the basket in her bathroom. He noticed the water hadn't let out of the tub and shook his head. Leaning over the bath, he paused and took in the fragrance, reached into the bag and grabbed a half full water bottle. Dumping the rest in the sink, he filled it with the water she had washed in. Plunging his hand in, he found the stopper and let the water go. His fingers brushed the bottom and he placed his palm against the bath cushion. Making sure to cap the bottle, he put it back in his bag and slowly raised his wet hand to his face and smelled the feminine scent once more before wiping his hand on the towel she had strewn on the floor. Folding it neatly as he always does, he set it in the hamper.

Looking left out the bathroom to the door leading out of her home, and then right through the door to her room, to her. He slowly crept closer. Laying on her side, she one had knee up and her hair was braided and lay over her shoulder, half way hiding her face. He could see the smooth, slightly pink folds of her womanhood, calling to him.

"Just a taste," he thought to himself, and slowly, carefully extended a hand towards her.

He jumped as she rolled onto her back, knee still bent. Her center still beckoning him. Her face turned towards him, he leaned in, on one arm and reached again for her. Pressing his hand against her, he was surprised at how hot her sex was. Warmth emanating from it, he dipped his index finger in between her folds and slowly pulled away. He smelled his finger, and then he closed his eyes and tasted her. Her musky, sweet flavor left him wanting more. He came around to the bottom of the bed and looked outside. He didn't know what for, he just needed to think.

Ever prepared, he reached back into his bag and pulled out a tiny clear vial. It wasn't hard to get a hold of. He smirked at telling his dealer friend that he just needed it to sleep. He decided he needed to just do this, commit to it. He knew he wouldn't regret it. He strode around to her side and licked his finger. He placed it on her lips, just to part them a tiny bit. Unscrewing the top of the vial, he poured it, drop by drop, into her waiting mouth. She swallowed just as the last bit passed her lips and he waited. Watching her, watching the time. He needed to make sure the drug would take effect. She wasn't ready to know just how dedicated to her he was.

After around forty five minutes, he crawled up the foot of the bed, slowly. Licking his fingers again, he rubbed up the lips between her thighs, then down the slit again. Carefully, just up and down. Teasing himself with how close to her he could be. They were so smooth, she must have shaved them while she was in the bath. He smiled at the idea that she did this just for him. He knew she wanted him, but she would have to wait. He wanted her to be awake when he took her, he wanted to spear her, hard and he wanted to watch the tears in her eyes because she was so tight and him, too big for her. She was so lucky he chose her. She just didn't realize it yet.

He wet his fingers again, licking the tiny bit of her dew off and slipped them between her waiting gash. He admired her, for just a second. How tiny and dainty her pussy was. No inner labia, just the meaty outer lips shielding her tiny little hood over her rosy clit. He thought Pussy was too big, too harsh. He corrected himself. 'Kitten,' he thought with a smile.

Seeing her open and waiting for him was almost too much, he kept her spread with one hand and rubbed around her clit with the other. He noticed her flower bloomed a little pinker and started to glisten in the moonrays. Smiling to himself, he worked and her button began to ripen like a tiny little berry. The smell of her musk was rich and heady and he loved the way, even unconscious, her body primed itself for him.

"What a good little girl you are," he grinned from her mound, "Sweet and juicy and all mine."

Keeping her spread open so her little trigger stood at attention, it swelled with every pass around his finger tip made. Careful to never touch it, he just teased around, and around. He promised himself he wouldn't take her, but he could do other things. Edging forward, he began to nibble and suck at her mound, and finally touching her bud with his tongue, he tasted and licked. Feeling himself needing to blow again, he prolonged the agony with dessert. Circling her opening with his finger, spearing her a little with his tongue, he decided he couldn't take it any longer.

He stood up, and pulled his pants off. Never taking his eyes off her lean, tight, little frame, he kneeled between her legs. He leaned to hover over her, and dipped the end of his cock into her honey pot. Careful not to penetrate her, just lubricating himself with her beautiful liquid. His pre-cum mixed with her fluid and he rubbed himself with one hand and pushed his face between her legs, keeping her spread with the other. As he looked up at her, he got an idea. He promised himself not to steal her virtue yet, but there were other ways to satisfy his ever-growing need.

Standing and pulling her gently over so she was straight in the bed, he propped her head up, just her head, as much as he could. He put one knee on either side of her chest and wrapped one of her radiant, delicate hands around his shaft. He jerked himself with her hand for a while, and grasped at her breasts with his free hand. He leaned up so he could dribble a tiny bit of him onto her lips, brushed his cock into her mouth, ever so slightly. He leaned in and then licked himself from her mouth. Not being able to resist the need, he plunged his tongue in and out, against her tongue and lips. She quivered, ever so slightly against his advances. He leaned back again and fondled her chest, tugging and twisting at her nips. Then he pressed her orbs, like perfect little moons themselves, around his hard pole and began to fuck them. Stopping to milk her opening, careful not to cause any friction, he was careful to use the waters of their love to keep him slipping in and out of her valley in the center of her chest.

His need overflowed once more and he fucked and pumped her globes and then he realized just before he came that he hadn't thought of how best to clean up after himself. With a growl, he ripped the folded pillow from behind her head and he worked harder and faster until he finished in her mouth. Again, he kissed her, tasting himself on her was as good as getting a trophy or medal for his performance, he thought wryly.

Replacing the pillow under his Angel's head, he grabbed any evidence of his presence, the vial, the bottle of her bathwater, his bag. He redressed himself, stuck his fingers between her legs for one last taste and left. Making sure to lock the door behind himself, he headed quickly to work. He was much later back than expected but being the Boss, they could just shut up and take it.

Skipping down the stairs, and outside the building, he bumped into a man. He felt like a brick wall and for a moment he head swam. His gut instinct was to keep walking, something about this guy was wrong, or different. They looked at each other, waiting for the other to apologize. The stranger seemed to be eyeing him up, perhaps, smelling him? He couldn't be sure. He felt wrong, and he was in a rush, so he quickly muttered an apology and hurried against the cold winds to where he needed to be. Stopping to cross the road at the corner, he glanced at the man, still standing there. The shadowy gentleman looked to the corner, then up at the building he came out of, made fists of his hands a few times, as if to regain feeling, and then simply disappeared, right in full view.

Something was strange, his head was still spinning a little, almost like someone had poked their finger down into the jelly of his being. He shook his head as he hurried off, but he couldn't shake the wrongness of the encounter. He reminded himself of her on his tongue, breathed in the taste of her and carried on.