Phantom: A Dark Retelling (Tattered Curtain Series)
Phantom: Act 3 – Scene 24

Scarlett

The wall is at my back by my next breath and I watch, wide eyed, as the door slams in front of me. Sol cages me in, his hands on either side of my head and the left side of his face is nothing but hard angles and sharp jawline, set in rage. Even the bone-white mask seems to mirror his anger. All I can see is his glaring midnight eye, sparkling back at me. But more than anything, I feel hunger radiating from him. The way his chest heaves against my breasts and that intoxicating scent of his sends desire flooding to my core.

“Do you honestly think I’d just let you walk out that door, little muse? You’re mine.”

“Yours? Why? Oh, I forgot. It’s because I’m the key to everything, right?”

Please, tell me you’re not using me to get to Rand…

“You heard that, did you?” He narrows his eyes. “You are the key to everything. I don’t know how the fuck you could take that as anything but a compliment, but if that’s what you’re mad about, you’ll just have to trust me.”

I groan and push ineffectively at his chest. “Trust you? With all your secrets and lies?”

“I’ve never lied to you, and contrary to what your spoiled ass believes, you haven’t earned the right to learn all my secrets.”

“But you’ve earned the right to know mine? That’s rich. Let me go, Sol.”

“No.” The intensity in his dark gaze has me squirming and my pussy fluttering, but I hold strong.

“Let. Me. Go!”

He leans in, not letting me look anywhere else as he growls deep from his chest, “No.”

I narrow my eyes, but freeze when he bends down and inhales up my neck, ending at my ear with a deep moan.

“Fuck, Scarlett… why didn’t you tell me the truth? Knowing anyone else touched you today has had me murderous, but I’ve waited for you to come clean. Did you really believe I wouldn’t know you saw him? That I couldn’t smell him on you? I can smell another man on you as well as I can smell your arousal right now. Here—” His hand suddenly finds the apex of my legs and I gasp. His other hand strokes down my neck. “And even here.” His sharp inhale against my throat makes me whimper.

I bite my lip to keep from giving in, and I push lightly against his chest. He pulls away to meet my gaze.

“Let me go, Sol. I’ll scream. Someone will hear me.”

A Cheshire smile lifts the left side of his mouth.

“Oh, you’ll do more than scream, pretty little muse. You’ll sing.”

“I’ll what—ah! Sol!”

I’m suddenly upside down and Sol’s—admittedly shapely—ass is in my face as he carries me down the hall. “Put me down! Let me go! I hate you, Sol!”

“Wow, yet another lie. I’m disappointed in you, Scarlett. You just can’t stop yourself, can you?”

“I’m not a liar! Drop me right now!” I demand and pound my fists into the backs of his thighs. But it’s no use. “I’ll scream if you don’t!”

“I’ll make you sing for me, my angel, my pretty little muse. I’ll make you understand the demon I truly am. Then we’ll see if you still want to run away from me.”

I hear him sifting through a drawer before grabbing something.

“Help! Help! Please, somebody!”

I’m screaming at the top of my lungs one moment, and plopped onto my feet in front of the fireplace in the next. Once I gather my bearings, I dig my heels into the soft carpet to run but Sol captures me easily with one arm around my waist.

Pushing and kicking against him is futile. He’s bigger than me and actually trained in martial arts, but I flail anyway. While holding me with one hand, he grabs both of my wrists with the other and begins wrapping something hard and plastic around them.

“You know, I wasn’t sure how I could use these at first, but I installed this while you were sleeping. And now, you’ve given me an excellent idea.”

“What’re you doing? What are ‘these’?”

I freeze and try to figure out what is binding me. A thick layer of black sparkling beads and skulls shine back at me thanks to the firelight in the room.

“Are these Mardi Gras beads?”

Before I can register that I need to keep fighting him, he pulls my bound arms over my head to attach the wrapped beads to a hook in the ceiling. I have to stretch and stand on my tiptoes to keep from dangling from the ceiling.

“Very good.” He grins wickedly at me. “And make sure you don’t try to pull them down or you could fall into the fire behind you.”

“Sol! Stop this right now! Let me go! I want to go home!”

“No. You will learn your lesson.”

“Which is?”

“No more lying.”

I bark out a laugh. “That’s funny, coming from you.”

“I haven’t lied once, Scarlett. But you?” He appears in my vision again, holding an unlit crimson tapered candle by its holder. “You have been full of them today.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hiss back, trying to maintain my rebellion while also scouring my memory for every time I lied today alone.

“Another one,” he tsks. “My mother always said that liars go to hell, Scarlett. Do you know what hell feels like? Because I do.” His admission makes me pause at the pain in his eyes, but as he keeps going, all sympathy disappears. “I don’t wish that pain on you, but you do need to be taught a lesson. So here it is.”

He disappears to stand behind me near the fireplace. It’s not scorching but my bare legs are getting warm. Then he steps back into my vision with the tapered red candle newly lit.

“Sol…” I whisper carefully. “What are you doing?”

He looks into my eyes as he passes his hand over the flame and keeps it there.

“Stop! You’ll hurt yourself!” I yell. My heart squeezes for him, and tears prickle behind my eyes.

He raises his brow. “I’m surprised you care. I thought you hated me.”

“I-I do. Hate you,” I insist, but my eyes can’t leave where the flame licks his palm. He finally takes it away and shows me the light char on his skin. A sickly smell of burned flesh wafts toward me.

“Why would you do that?” Tears stream down my face and his triumphant smile slips.

“Shh. Shh. Oh, baby. Don’t cry for me.” He steps closer and wipes away a tear with his thumb as he murmurs reverently. “What pretty tears you shed for someone you hate.”

My eyes narrow, pushing out more tears despite what I vow next. “Believe me, I won’t shed another one for you. Not when you string me up and taunt me about how you’re going to torture me.”

He kneels and sets the candle on the black marble hearth. “The torture will be so delicious, though, Scarlett. I promise to make it worth our while. I used to be deathly afraid of fire. So much so that I didn’t even like candles on my birthday cake. I earned the fear, but then I learned how to beat the fear by conquering the pain fire caused me. Now, I’m its master.”

His fingers skim up my thighs until they curl around my panties. He tugs them down and my heart stutters as he drops them to the ground. His gaze seems to catch on a loose thread at the bottom of my dress hem. He grabs the candle again while he fingers the thread, and I still completely.

“Sol…” I whisper but he shushes me again.

“Trust me, Scarlett. Trust the man who is about to torture pleasure from you. Do you trust me?”

“I… I do,” I answer honestly, but my bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know what you’re doing. What if… what if I can’t handle it? What if it hurts?”

His brow softens. “Do you really think that? That I’ll hurt you?”

“I don’t know. I’m just afraid.”

Hurt flashes over his face. “Pretty muse, I’ve told you before that I would never hurt you. If you think I will… well then not only do you not trust me, but you’re lying to yourself, too. So now is your lesson. You need to be honest, Scarlett. With me, and yourself. This is a demonstration. All the lies you tell yourself—and me—will go up in smoke… just like your dress.”

“No, Sol—please…” I can’t stop staring down at him as he holds the candle to the hem of my dress. A spark of fear mixed with intrigued arousal flutters in my core. The last feeling floats all the way up to my chest as I realize… I do trust him. He won’t hurt me. But self-preservation is still riding me hard, and I can’t resist the urge to fight him. “Stop… What’re you—”

A tiny flame erupts on the fabric and I shriek. It’s small, staying no bigger than an eraser as it burns through the fabric in a rising line. Even though it’s nowhere near actually touching me, I try to scoot back to get my skin away from it, but the fire at my back grows hotter against my calves. The flame increasingly warms the fabric and begins to heat my thighs.

Even as fear races in my veins, a much different kind of warmth aches in my center at the way Sol’s eager face lights up while my dress continues to disintegrate, revealing more of me to him. The fire rises and the back of my neck prickles with sweat, but Sol’s attentiveness burns hotter than anything on my dress. Before I can truly feel it on my skin—or the panic I know I should be feeling—Sol grabs my hips and blows the traveling flame out, snuffing it instantly.

“Shh… Scarlett. You’re safe. You’re always safe with me.”

It’s only then that I realize the tears I shed when he hurt himself are still cascading down my cheeks. But now that the flame is gone, so is any ounce of fear I had. My pussy clenches for something to fill it as he looks up at me.

Never breaking my hungry stare, he fists the dress halves, a slit now burned into it, and rips the fabric up the center. He stands as he splits the dress. Every time he jerks the fabric, my body jolts forward, as if it’s trying to get free for him. His fingertips are cool compared to the flame, and as they graze my fevered skin, goose bumps bloom in his wake.

The fabric finally parts in two and drapes over me like a short-sleeved cape. While he stays fully clothed, my front is completely open to him, but for my bra. Cool air wafts a chill all over my body, perking my nipples, and adding to the tremble of need thrumming under my skin. After the shit he just pulled, I should be terrified. But with the ravenous way Sol studies my body right now, my core aches for him more than ever.

His gaze finally meets mine and I mewl when my inner muscles quake.

“I’ve mastered my fear of flame. And now I’ll master you.”

He steps forward and traces my black bra, starting with my collarbone and going down my strap, curling over my cup, too far from where I actually want him. His strokes are so light on my sensitive skin as he swoops down to the middle and back up the breast. My legs clench together as I desperately try to keep my desire from leaking down my thighs.

I don’t want him to know the effect he has on me, but with the satisfied smile he’s boasting right now, he has to know. I’m seconds away from begging him to fuck me right here. When he finally flicks open my front bra clasp, I gasp as my breasts spill free from their confines. He licks his lips and I don’t realize I’ve done the same until he swipes my wet lips with his thumb. His midnight eye follows his thumb’s trail as he slides it between my parted lips and meets my gaze.

“Suck, pretty muse.”

I’m mad at him. Angry as hell for keeping me, for punishing me, but more importantly, for keeping secrets from me.

But damn, do I need him inside of me right now.

My Phantom has unleashed a desperation inside of me I never knew I had. Until now.

I am his angel, he is my demon of music, and all I want to do right now is sing for him.

Keeping his gaze, I suck his thumb farther inside my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, moistening it with my spit. His other fingers hold my chin as he pumps in and out. My pussy pulses, craving to be filled.

“You’re doing so good, Scarlett,” he murmurs in his deep voice.

His appreciation washes over me like a cooling wave and my eyes close as he pulls his thumb out. He traces his dry fingers along my jawline, teasing my neck, down my chest, until his wet thumb swirls around my already erect nipple. The wet digit draws my peak into a diamond and he goes to the other to do the same. My head rolls back and I’m not even embarrassed at the throaty moan that escapes me.

“That’s it, sing for me.”

Something much wetter and softer has my eyes snapping open and I look down to see Sol sucking my nipple into his mouth. He watches me with his midnight eye and I lick my lips again as I watch him circle the pink muscle around my hard nipple. His hands grip my waist as he switches sides and pays attention to the next, laving it with his flattened tongue before flicking the tip.

“Your tongue… it feels amazing.”

His lips try to lift on his right side and his cheek raises his mask.

Just that simple show of happiness in my demon makes me shiver. I don’t totally understand this torture by pleasure business, but I’m not so sure I’ll be learning the lesson he wants me to learn.

His fingers dig into my waist, so long from years of mastering the piano that they nearly span my stomach entirely. My clit pounds with each beat of my heart and I feel my body aching for release, but I know this won’t get me there.

“Please, Sol, I need you. I want you inside of me.”

“Did you love my cock inside you, pretty muse?”

“Yes! Please! I need it again.”

“Have you ever had another cock inside your pussy, Scarlett?”

“No, never. Only yours. I only want yours.”

I’m coming to learn that these questions are one of the games he plays with me. He already knows all my answers, but I give them anyway. He takes pleasure in my praise.

He growls low with approval as he meets my gaze. Watching my every move, he slowly rolls his zipper down over the bulge that’s grown in his pants and pulls himself free. Precum soaks the swollen head and I swallow the impulse to break free and lick it. His thumb smears the liquid on his tip before he raises his thumb to my face.

“Open.”

I immediately accept his offering, swirling my tongue over the salty flavor. He removes it too soon, returning to his cock to mix my spit with his precum. His palm pumps hard, spreading our fluids up and down his shaft.

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“No.” My eyes flare with interest. The desire to do just that is a tangible throb in my inner muscles right now.

He steps up to me and wraps one arm around my ass while he continues to stroke himself. His free hand caresses my ass and I bite my lip as he brings me closer.

Until he spanks me.

I yelp out and try to squirm away, but he grabs a fistful of my ass cheek. His fingers graze my crease and he whispers against my lips.

“Have you ever had a cock here?”

I shake my head, a little nervous. Sol already feels too big for my pussy. I honestly can’t imagine him anywhere else.

“N-no. You know I haven’t.”

He growls possessively and bites my lip, licking the sting before he pulls my hips against his.

“When I take you there, you’ll love that, too,” he promises before leaving me entirely. I clutch the beads for dear life, afraid the sudden movement will have me crashing into the fire that’s baking me through the part of my dress that’s still draped over my back. The heat is nothing like the burn I have roiling inside me, though, but I don’t let him know that.

“Please take me down. I need you. I feel like I’m cooking.”

He smiles sinfully and grabs the still-lit candle from the floor. “You’re cooking all right and I’ll eat you soon enough, but for now. I want to play with my food.”

“What does that—”

Sol wraps his arm around my hips and pulls me at an angle. He raises his arm high before tipping the crimson candle over my chest. I watch in horror as the small droplets of hot wax fall to my breast.

“Sol! Stop!” I scream out, expecting pain on the sensitive skin, but as soon as it lands, there’s only a little sting. He blows against it, cooling it immediately. Goose bumps ripple around the drop as the wax molds and hardens against my skin, and a full-body shiver takes over.

“Feel good?”

“Mmnnn,” is all I can manage as I bite my lip. He watches my eyes as he does it again. This time, my body anticipates the burn and the rush before the wax lands. I’m deliciously validated when the bloodred wax drips a light tingle in a line down the mound of my breast. He follows its path with cool breath, steering it to connect with my wet, erect nipple. A low moan pulls from my diaphragm as my clit pulses. “More.”

He lets go of my waist to fist his cock as he lowers the candle closer to me by a few inches, allowing it to drizzle molten hot wax down my chest until he drips it over my nipple directly.

“Sol!” My yell echoes throughout his home and my hips thrust forward, seeking him out, as if they can find his cock and force it to relieve my throbbing pulse inside.

The wax drips down my nipple onto the floor and when my hips try to push forward on my tiptoes, the next few droplets miss their mark and land on my lower belly near my trimmed curls. The sudden heat makes my muscles squeeze and contract, the faint promise of an orgasm.

“Please, Sol. Please. I ache.” My chest heaves while I plead.

“Does your pussy need my cock, pretty muse?”

“Yes, please. I need it. I need you.”

“Does my sweet angel need her démon de la musique?”

“Yes. Please!” I beg without hesitation. Sol’s lesson was obviously effective since I have no desire to play coy with him. My pride burned with my dress.

“But how can that be?” he asks, an affected confusion tinting the purr in his voice as he places the candle on the mantel. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t, oh god. Please. I don’t hate you. I never hated you.”

“Does that mean you lied?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry! I lied. I could never hate you. I need you.”

He lets go of his cock to thread his fingers through my hair before tugging me forward and growling into my ear.

“Your demon loves it when you beg for him, mon amour.” He bites my earlobe, making me cry out, before kneeling and meeting my eyes. “Now sing for me.”

In one swift move, he scoops my legs over his shoulders, leaving me bare to his gaze. I hold on to the beads, praying for dear life that they don’t break while in this position, but I forget all about it when his tongue meets my clit.

As if the taste was all he needed to break free, he squeezes me closer, both hands gripping my ass, and devours me. I cry out his name in a high-pitched moan and encourage him, telling him sweet gibberish to keep him going. He moans his approval against my pussy and laps up my desire before zeroing in on my clit. I clutch the beads so hard that the plastic skulls pinch my skin as I suddenly explode into pieces.

The explosive crescendo catches me off guard, as one loud melodic chord in fortissimo resounds through my body. I’m screaming his name as my orgasm barrels through me, tensing every one of my muscles to the point of pain. My legs tremble on Sol’s shoulders and when they’ve finally stopped, he stands, and catches the back of my thighs again. He holds them up at his sides before driving inside me.

“Fuck, Scarlett, your pussy grips me so hard when you come. Do you think my cock can make you come again?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Please.”

His hands stroke my sides lovingly as he waits for me to accommodate his size, but I want him to move already. My fingers tremble, dying to touch him, to carve my nails into his skin while he takes me, but I’m still hung up by the beads so I clutch them for dear life even though I trust Sol won’t let me fall.

“Please let me go. I just want to touch you.”

“Not yet,” Sol answers before muttering under his breath. “But one day…”

The promise is so low, I can barely hear it, almost as if he’s vowing it to himself more than me. I’m about to plead with him again, but he finally curves his hard cock into me and thrusts at a wild staccato beat.

Every pounding thrust pushes me to the verge of another orgasm. He wraps his left arm around my waist to clutch me to his chest. When he pumps in, he grinds against my clit before pulling back out. The move makes it impossible for me to see anything but my demon, his midnight eye full of emotion while firelight dances across the white-skull mask on the right side of his face.

I’m so hot and sweaty, the wax on my breasts and stomach is still soft on my skin. It smears all over his white shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care. I stop caring about it, too, when my inner muscles squeeze, threatening to combust again.

“You feel so good, Sol. I’m going to come again,” I moan. “I can’t wait.”

“You don’t have to wait. Come, pretty muse. Sing for me, angel.”

The words act as a catalyst and I combust. My already spent muscles flutter around him, gripping him tightly and nearly locking him into my body.

“Goddamn, Scarlett.”

He calls out my name and drives up into me one final time while tugging me as close to his pelvis as possible. The beads above me snap but he catches me before I can drop, cradling my back with his forearm underneath the scrap of dress that still covers me. I lock my ankles and arms around his back and neck to help keep me steady. The beads tink and tap around us like rain as they fall on the black marble hearth. I wrap my arms around him immediately as he pumps his orgasm inside of me.

“Fuck your birth control,” I think I hear him mutter.

With the covetous, primal way he looked at me while holding his niece, and the absolutely feral way he just took me, I regret the implant at this point. Any arguments I had when I threatened to leave have just been thoroughly fucked out of me. I want a full family one day, and having a bunch of Bordeaux babies running around the New French Opera House is a new dream I’d love to have come true.

Still standing, my legs hooked around his back, he holds me against him, his arm banded around my ass while the other wraps up my back and cups the back of my head. Other than the quiet flames whipping in the fireplace, our deep pants and gasps for air are the only sounds in the room. I feel completely safe, cherished… loved. I don’t know if the Phantom of the French Quarter can love, but my démon de la musique definitely feels capable.

I brush my lips over his. His grip on my nape tightens as he immediately takes control of the kiss. I taste my arousal as he devours my mouth just like he did my pussy. When the kiss melts from fevered need to tender, he leaves my swollen lips to kiss my neck, sending a delicious tremble down my spine.

He squeezes me harder before whispering into my ear, “Never leave me, Scarlett. I couldn’t bear it.”

My heart squeezes at the vulnerability lacing his full, rich bass.

“What about class?” I whisper back, somewhat playfully, but also slightly worried about his answer.

He stiffens and shifts me so he can look in my eyes. Determination and hesitance fills his midnight gaze. Not for the first time, I wish I could peel off his mask and see the full depth of his emotions. Maybe then he’d not only strip naked for me, but he’d also trust me enough to bare his secrets, too.

“If I let you go tomorrow… you’ll come back?” he asks and I can’t help but smile.

“Yes, I promise. But only because I want to. Not because you’ve forced me. Besides, it’s not like anywhere I go, you won’t go too. You are my stalker.”

A genuine smile spreads wide across his lips, even the right side, like it’s getting used to the muscles again.

“That’s all I ask, my muse.”

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