Stranger in the Dark: An Erotic Retelling of Cupid and Psyche by Gwendolyn Wilde Page A

peered hard into the room, trying to make out the shape, or size of him.
    “Ah, Psyche,” he said, “was there ever a woman more beautiful?” The voice was closer this time. I wanted to reach out a hand and feel the void in front of me, but I was afraid of what I might touch.
    “If you like how I look in the dark, you should see me in the light,” I quipped.
    “I can see you just fine, dove,” he rumbled. “Now undress for me.”
    I froze against the door. My tense grip on the handle tightened.
    “Undress, Psyche,” he said, firmly.
    I lifted a shaking hand, and fumbled at the clasp of my tunic. The metal pin came undone, and the cloth slid against my skin as it fell loose. I gripped it tightly to my chest, squeezing the handful of fabric in my fist. It was a small comfort, that thin layer hiding my naked skin from him. But I heard a low laugh, and then I felt my tunic being tugged away.
    I whimpered as the cloth was pulled, gradually, from my grip. I hugged myself, clasping my arms around my naked body. I heard his grunt of lust, as I quivered against the door. I heard the warm huffs of his breath, louder now, as if he was standing inches in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was no different – I was just as blind and vulnerable either way.
    “I’m going to touch you,” he warned. I stiffened, wondering how he would seize me first. By the breast, or the hips, or perhaps just my arm or neck. But the touch landed on my cheek, light as a moth. I blinked. It was warm and smooth, the touch of skin on skin. He exhaled, slowly, and I felt his breath blowing across my face. The touch traveled down my cheek to my neck. I shivered. He crossed my collarbone, next, and the touch set my skin prickling all the way down my chest. My nipples tingled, rising rigid.
    “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, and his voice was tense with desire.
    I swallowed and ran my tongue over my lips, lifting my head obediently towards the sound of his voice. His lips brushed my lips, silken, before muscling harder against my mouth. My lower lip was pulled away, caught in a warm wet crush. He forced his kiss deeper, and I felt the wet flicker of his tongue. The flat of his firm nose pressed against my face as he kissed me.
    Despite my fear, his passionate attentions kindled my lusts, setting my blood awash with surges of pleasure. He might be ugly, but he didn’t feel inhuman. I reached, tentatively, in front of me until my fingers grazed him. I felt the firm slab of his chest, throbbing with his heartbeat. And then he closed in, narrowing the distance between us until his chest was flush with my own, my breasts crushed against his ribcage. I could feel the echoes of his excited heartbeat. I slid my hand down his side, tracing the shape of him, trying to discern his form. His chest, swelling with his breaths, was broad and huge. His haunches were thick and tense with muscle, his thighs just as brawny. But still nothing abnormal, as far as I could tell.
    But he couldn’t be normal. The oracle had said…
    He pressed closer, and I gasped sharply as I felt the warm press of his cock. The shaft and head pressed against my stomach, thrusting against the warm flesh. As I breathed out I felt his cock twitch against my skin.  
    I swallowed. “You don’t feel like a…” I paused. I didn’t know what he was, and didn’t dare risk insulting him with my guesses. The oracle had mentioned wings, I remembered, so I ran my hand up to grip at his back. But he seized my wrist, suddenly, and pinned it back against the wall.
    “I am your master,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”
    He gathered both of my hands and folded my wrists into his broad palm. I arched into him. The feel of him was satisfying; the darkness was so cold and void, and I craved the firm press of his body. There was no sense of emptiness with his warm flesh crushing me against the wall.
    He bent, wrapped his arm beneath my thighs, and lifted me. I lay, feeling