Midnight Soul (39 page)

I had exceptional skills at making love. I’d
made a practice of it to the point I’d made an art of it. My
approach to it was considered, deliberate, unhurried. A climax was
not an occasion to rush to but a sensation to shape and manipulate,
and when reached, to revel in…
languidly
.

Noc did not make love like this.

Further, Noc did not do what I selected
lovers in the past exclusively to do.

This being allow me to lead the
festivities.

Noc took over.

He also was not considered, deliberate,
unhurried.

He kissed deeply, demanding much in return in
a way it was impossible not to give it to him,
desire
to
give it to him, have that become the entire reason for your
existence. He did this with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth and
his hands.

Those roamed everywhere, as if he’d been
starved of human touch the entirety of his life and he was making
up for that in a matter of seconds.

I couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t slow him
down.

And I didn’t want to.

His taste, his touch, everything he was doing
was drawing out extraordinary sensations I couldn’t control.

Beauty beyond imagining.

In an instant I needed more.

In the next instant, I
craved
it.

Without warning, he tore his mouth from mine
and pushed up to his knees between my legs in the bed.

I stared up at him, finding myself panting,
my body singing, watching the beauty of his face now carved with
passion, but noting his hands had lifted to unbutton his shirt.

I took that as a cue to release my belt.

I did so, the heavy metal slid to the sides,
and without its fastener, the soft material of the dress parted,
exposing the undergarments Valentine had given me.

They were, incidentally, the only part about
my attire (at the time) that I liked unreservedly.

Cream lace so delicate, it was a miracle of
construction. Shiny, soft satin that was a marvel at the seat and
along the gusset (but not at the front, that was lace) of my
panties as well as at the bottom of the cups of my brassiere.

They were divine.

One look at Noc’s face told me he felt the
same way.

“Goddamned
fuck
,” Noc growled with
such ferocity, I stilled.

And if what we’d done before was
not
unhurried, deliberate, considered, I was about to learn the meaning
of lovemaking entirely void of these concepts.

And enjoy every fiery second.

He tore the shirt from his shoulders, tossed
it aside, and in a blur of movement I felt his arm drive under me,
pulling up at the middle of my back.

I cried out in surprise at the unexpected
arch but my next cry was much different when Noc used his other
hand to drag down the lacy material of the cup of the brassiere.
Then Noc’s mouth was fastened to my nipple, drawing in.

Harsh.

Strong.

The force of the pull tore from nipple to
clitoris, buzzing there with such intensity, I had no thought. I
felt the beads he’d given me glide up and rest lightly at my throat
but the extreme sensitivity of my skin made them feel like I was
held there by a caressing hand.

I moved instinctively, the fingers of one
hand into his hair to grasp him there, the other one dragging my
nails down his back.

At this touch, Noc released my nipple, his
lips speeding up my chest, my neck, over my chin to my mouth, my
back still arched at his arm’s command, his lips now to mine, his
eyes molten.

One look in them and my body became the same
way.

“Every inch of you, fucking gorgeous,” he
ground out. “Saw it. Knew it. But now it’s goddamned
mine
.”

Those words drove right up to my womb.

He didn’t allow me to reply.

He kissed me. His hands roamed all over me.
He ended the kiss but only for his mouth to move to my other nipple
and he dragged it in, drawing deeper, forcing me to arch myself as
the hunger for any touch from him took over, feeding on itself more
and more the more Noc gave.

I touched him too, the silk of his skin over
the hard of his muscle. I attempted to get my mouth on him. I
tasted his neck. His shoulder.

But I couldn’t seem to concentrate. Control
my body’s movements. Focus on what I could do that might bring Noc
pleasure.

I just touched, nipped, kissed, licked,
dragged, clawed—wherever I could reach, however I could find
purchase.

Everything I took, everything Noc gave drove
me deeper and deeper into the abandon, deeper and deeper into the
oblivion where nothing existed.

Nothing but Noc and me.

A puff of breath shot from my lips as he
readjusted his body so he could tear my panties down my legs but he
immediately resumed his position between them. Having caught one of
my ankles in his hand, he put his lips to it and dragged them down
the inside of my calf, my thigh, all the way to the heart of
me.

I watched, holding my breath, quivering,
dripping with wet between my legs, my nipples hard stones tormented
by the very air touching them, thinking I’d never witnessed
anything as beautiful as Noc putting his mouth to me like that.

He kissed me above the triangle of hair
between my legs and then lifted his eyes to mine.

“Need to be inside you, baby.”

Thank the Goddess Adele.

“I think I may need that more,” I pushed out,
nowhere near the position of being embarrassed that I admitted that
need out loud, but even if I didn’t, my voice betrayed it.

His sultry face grew even more sultry as he
pushed up to his knees again, reaching behind him.

It caused me some confusion when he again
pulled out his billfold.

I lost this confusion when I watched,
fixated, as he unearthed something from it and held the square
packet between his teeth.

I did this fixatedly because he was then
unbuckling his belt, unfastening his trousers and pushing them down
his hips.

All that had gone before was hurried, even
desperate.

But it seemed his movements now were taking
years.

His cock bounded free and my lips parted.

The length, more than average, though not
ridiculously so.

The girth…

My
.

Suddenly my mouth started watering.

“Noc,” I whispered urgently.

“Two seconds, Frannie.”

He rolled the sheath he’d unearthed from an
unusual wrapper on his thick shaft.

Watching this, I started squirming.

“
Noc
,” I demanded.

He covered me.

But he did not enter me.

I continued squirming, wrapping a leg around
his hip, an arm around his waist, diving my fingers into his hair,
all while looking in his eyes.

“You need—” I started.

I did not go on when he framed one side of my
face with his hand.

I stopped squirming when his other hand found
mine, his fingers laced with my own, and he pressed the back of my
hand into the bed, bearing his weight into it.

“Other leg around me, sweetheart,” he
whispered.

I did as told, staring into his eyes.

“Guide me,” he commanded quietly.

I didn’t ask what he meant.

I knew.

And I did that too, instantly drawing my arm
from around his waist to push my hand between us and wrap it around
his beautiful shaft.

I felt and heard his breath leave him in a
gust at my touch, saw the flare in his eyes, and I rubbed the tip
of him through my wetness, doing this for him and for me.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmured, his teeth
gritted.

“You do too,” I panted, catching my breath as
I stroked the tip of him over my clitoris and then I took him
down.

The moment he was there, his hips pressed
in.

I drew my hand away, circling his waist with
my arm again.

But he didn’t invade. I had nary an inch of
him and there was much more than that.

“Darling,” I whispered.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

“I am, my dearest.”

“Don’t stop lookin’ at me.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

Slowly, his eyes holding mine captive the
entire time, Noc slid inside.

Gods, the beauty Noc gave me. So much.

And now so much
more
.

It took great effort not to close my eyes at
the glory of him, arch my neck, center everything on the
magnificence of the feeling of him filling me, connecting with
me.

Noc and I becoming one.

Instead, I watched the beauty
he
felt
as he seated himself inside me and I hoped I gave him the same, and
more.

His thumb swept my lips and the fingers of
his other hand laced in mine squeezed.

“Gonna take you now, baby.”

I nodded.

“Don’t stop lookin’ at me,” he ordered.

“I won’t,” I vowed.

He moved—out, then in.

I bit my lip and stared into his eyes.

His mouth trailing the inside of my leg had
been the most beautiful vision I’d beheld.

Until now.

He moved again, out…in.

“Noc,” I whispered.

“Faster?” he asked.

“Please.”

He gave me what I wished.

And again. And again.

Faster. Faster.

More. And more.

Deeper. Harder. His gaze holding mine. His
breath escalating with my own. His body driving, mine jarring. His
hand clenching in mine. The fingers of his other moving back,
tangling in my hair to curl against my scalp. My legs circling his
hips tighter, the heels of my shoes spiking into his thighs.

All of a sudden, his nose touched mine and
his tone was low and fierce when he gritted, “Fuck,
fuck
,
you’re so goddamned beautiful.”

“You are too,” I gasped.

Out and in. Out and in. Eyes locked. Fingers
clutched. Legs wound. Out and in.

“Every inch of you,” he grunted.

My fingers convulsed around his.

Something else convulsed as well, repeatedly,
and my legs got tighter.

His deep groan sounded against my lips and
radiated
everywhere
.

Too good.

I was at my end.

“Darling, I’m—”

“Hold on, baby, look in my eyes.”

My entire body tightened. The sensations
overwhelming, I watched a muscle dance up his cheek in reaction to
feeling it at our intimate connection, and his eyes fired
further.

I couldn’t do as he asked.

“
Noc
,” I cried urgently.

“With me, sweetheart. Come with me.”

Wishing to give him what he wanted, I drew in
deep breaths, arching into him, my hips undulating to meet his
thrusts, the nails of my hand at his back pressing in and clawing,
all in the attempt to give, to take…and to hold on.

“Darling,” I begged.

“Look in my eyes.”

“
Darling
,” I pleaded.

“Don’t lose my eyes, Frannie.”

I was going to fly apart.

“I must,” I implored.

“Let go,” he grunted.

And only then did I lose Noc’s gaze because I
came apart.

The explosion was life changing. Obliterating
everything I was in burst after burst of sheer pleasure, leaving
nothing but the me I was with Noc. The me I was connected to Noc.
The me I was with his fingers laced in mine, his body still
thrusting into mine, driving me into the bed, the mighty noises of
his simultaneous orgasm blazing along every inch of me.

I found I’d lifted my head and was whimpering
into his neck through my climax, then panting into it as I kept
hold on him exactly as I was as he continued pounding into me, his
grunts no less potent, only drawing my nails from his flesh to
soothe with my hand where they’d grazed the small of his back.

I was settling into my afterglow but Noc was
still thrusting and grunting, music to my ears, when a tug on my
hair told me I needed to lower my head.

I did so and I barely got it to the pillow
before Noc’s mouth was on mine.

Only when he’d begun to drink from me did he
slide inside and cease moving.

I continued to hold him tight.

He broke the kiss, shifted and buried his
face in my neck.

And I held him tight.

I stared at the ceiling, feeling Noc’s
warmth, his weight, smelling the spice of his skin, glorying in the
stretch of his cock embedded deep inside me, allowing my breath to
even as I felt his breath do the same.

I didn’t know what came over me, but the
moment he started nuzzling my neck with his mouth, his hand
clenched in mine relaxed only so his thumb could caress the apple
of my palm, I blurted, “Does this mean I won’t get pizza?”

Noc stilled completely.

I did the same beneath him.

Now whyever did I ask that?

Why?

He lifted up and looked down at me.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything,
willing to cast a spell to take us to the beauty of what we were
sharing but seconds ago and not the awkwardness and stupidity of
what I’d just said.

I didn’t have to do that.

Noc was my Noc.

My savior. My friend.

Now…my lover.

He just gave.

In other words, we’d shared beauty but
seconds ago.

And he gave me more.

He did this as he burst out laughing and he
did not come close to getting it under control before he was
kissing me, laughing into my mouth.

Bar none, it was the most beautiful moment of
my life.

Bar…

None
.

Even the climax he’d just given me at the
same moment he’d shared his own.

So, of course, I kissed him back.

Fervently.

Alas, he eventually had to lift his head so
we both could breathe, but I was delighted to see he was still
smiling broadly when he did.

“They deliver,” he declared.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Pizza places. They deliver. So the answer is
yes. You’re gonna get your pizza. Though I’m not gonna get you
drunk after that because you’re gonna eat, I’m gonna eat, then
we’re gonna fuck until we can’t keep our eyes open anymore. Then
we’re gonna sleep. We’ll wake up. We’ll fuck again. And then I’ll
take you home but only so you can change clothes so I can take you
to Café du Monde to get beignets.”