Midnight Soul (41 page)

He swept his mouth against mine.

“But you’re gonna come ten times in one
night,” he declared.

My breath caught.

“One down,” he whispered, his hands beginning
to move on me, “Nine to go.”

“No—”

I didn’t finish saying his name.

Noc kissed me.

* * * * *

“I want you inside me,” I begged.

Noc, naked on his knees behind me, me naked
on my knees in front of him, his arms around me, one hand at my
breast doing delicious things, one hand between my legs doing
scrumptious
things, his mouth at my neck suckling, nipping,
kissing, he lifted it to my ear and nibbled my earlobe.

Oh my.

I made my position clear.

“
Please
,” I gasped, hips grinding into
his hand, feeling his hardness press into my bottom, wanting that
for my own.

“Next go,” he whispered into my ear.

I almost didn’t hear him. My climax was
gathering powerfully, preparing to overwhelm me.

“Noc,
hurry
, take me. I’m about—”

His finger at my clitoris circled faster and
harder.

“Come, Frannie,” he growled in my ear.

He didn’t have to make the demand. At the
workings of his finger I acquiesced, my head flying back and
colliding with his shoulder, my body trembling violently in his
hold, my hands shooting to his to grasp them in order to stop their
machinations because I was learning there was such a thing as too
much pleasure. I was experiencing it at that very moment, and it
was going to devour me.

At my climax’s end, tenderly, Noc lay me on
my back, covered me with his big, warm body, his hands trailing
soothingly along my skin, his mouth again at my neck.

When I had control of my breath, I put my
hands on him, loving how he felt, his warmth, the power at my
fingertips that was a part of Noc and yet seemed a contradiction
with all his understanding, thoughtful, humorous, teasing
gentleness.

It was on this thought his hand traveled over
my hip and in.

I drew in a sharp breath and turned my head
just as Noc lifted his so our mouths were nearly touching.

“Two,” he murmured and I shuddered under him
at that word, what it meant
and
his fingers trailing through
my most intimate part. “So wet,” he whispered, “can’t wait to taste
that for three.”

“You,” was all I had in me to reply.

“Later.”

“Noc—”

He kissed me. He used his tongue. It was
magnificent.

But it was too short.

“Later,” he repeated against my lips, and
before I could utter a word, his lips moved down my body.

Noc eventually tasted me.

He took his time. He demonstrated
extraordinary skill.

And in the end, I got three.

* * * * *

We were naked and abed, Noc on his back,
head and shoulders up on stacked pillows, me cuddled into his
side.

The room was dark, lit only by the misty blue
sparking up from Noc’s bare chest.

I had his hand in mine and was guiding his
big palm under the sparks.

Together, we lifted them up and I turned his
hand with my own, circling the shimmers until they formed a
ball.

Willing that ball to do as I wished, I pulled
my hand away and said softly, “All yours, darling.”

Noc continued circling it, replying, “What do
I do with it?”

I looked at his face and experienced
something profound, seeing its handsomeness lit by the beautiful
blue of my magic.

At the sight, I felt my body melt more deeply
into his side as I replied, “It’s just a plaything. It has no power
to harm. Toy with it. Or you can disburse it by drawing your hand
through it. You can set it on the night table to return to later.
Or, throw it across the room, and if you do that, it’ll travel back
to you as it’s yours. I gave it to you.”

Lazily, he drew his hand back, the ball
followed, and he tossed it across the room, the blue-arced streak
it made, utterly gorgeous (if I did say so myself).

It flew nearly to the wall before it stopped
and slowly made its way back.

When Noc took it, he circled his hand around
it several times before he curled his fingers into a fist, only his
forefinger out, and he twirled the ball on his finger. Eventually,
he reopened his hand, drew his fingers through it and it
disappeared, leaving us in darkness.

Without delay, he turned into me, gathering
me in his arms.

“You know you’re the shit?” he asked, his
deep voice deeper with obvious pride.

I knew he thought that.

I adored that he thought that.

And I
loved
that tone in his
voice.

“I’ve done quite well, Valentine says,” I
shared softly. “Though now she says she’s nothing more to teach me
except, how she phrases it, ‘in the field.’ This means I need
practical experience to advance further. And I’ll tell you, Noc,” I
went on, cuddling even closer, “I’m quite excited. It’s
fascinating, magic, learning to wield it, understanding my power,
how to use it, how not to abuse it. Although I missed you gravely
while we were parted, Valentine showing me what’s inside me and all
I’m capable of doing…I’ll never forget our times together and be
forever grateful for all she’s done for me.”

“You missed me gravely?”

I stared at him through the dark and
stiffened.

He pulled me closer. “Babe, before you freak
you let that out, you gotta know already I missed you gravely
too.”

His words meant much to me and from the
moment we were reunited he had not hidden that they were true.

Even so, for the first time since I came to
his world, reality intruded and I wondered at the wisdom of this
impetuous shift in our relations.

Outside Josette, Noc was my truest
friend.

Indeed, the only other friend I had in my
world, Frey’s mother, Valeria, I didn’t even explain that I was
leaving so it went without saying I didn’t bid her farewell.

That said, the last I’d heard from her (some
months prior), Frey’s father had officially severed ties with
her—meaning ending their marriage—not an unwelcome happenstance for
Valeria.

She was currently residing with her longtime
paramour, an almost grotesquely wealthy merchant, who was still
just a merchant.

Obviously, the old Franka would think that,
but I was right then lying abed with a naked city watchman who had
treasure, this was true (he’d told me he accepted a reward for his
part in ending Minerva’s plot) but no House and no title, and I did
not care a whit. Therefore, I no longer cared if Valeria’s love was
a lord, a merchant or a laborer.

Valeria, however, struggled with his lack of
position. Until she had no choice but to accept it once her husband
finished with her.

My friend of the other world was one to be
very present when things in her life were not going well, in order
to have someone with whom to complain about them.

In the rare occasions she was happy (prior to
becoming the kept woman of a wealthy merchant), she’d all but
disappear.

Thus I knew she was deliriously happy. So
much so, I barely heard from her, such was her contentment.

This did not negate the fact that I cared
about her, she cared about me, and I’d left our entire world
behind, with her in it, without even a goodbye.

What kind of friend was I, doing that to
Valeria?

And what kind of friend was I, jumping into
bed with Noc without thinking of the repercussions that might
have?

“Frannie?” Noc called my attention back to
him.

My stiff body stiffened further. “Perhaps we
should—”

He interrupted me. “No. We shouldn’t.”

His penchant for interruption was beginning
to peeve me.

“You keep interrupting me and I’m not fond of
it,” I shared irritably.

“You haven’t complained before now,” he
replied. “And that’s probably because it led to things like me
going down on you and you had no problem with that. Now you got
somethin’ to say that I can feel by your change in mood doesn’t
need to be said, not right now, but for some reason you feel like
fuckin’ this up, and I’m not gonna let you. But you’re not used to
not getting what you want so suddenly you’re ‘not fond of it.’”

First things first.

“Going down on me?” I queried.

“Makin’ you come with my mouth,” he
explained.

Well, that certainly was
going down
,
for Noc’s part. He just was so good at it, it made me fly high.

“That’s explained,” I went on then carried
on. “Now I’ll note if I have something to say, I’d like to be able
to say it. And truthfully, I can’t believe I even have to make the
request.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ shit up,” he
returned.

“I’m not ‘fuckin’ shit up,’” I retorted.

He rolled into me so I had some of his weight
at my hips, his long legs tangling in mine, and he lifted up on a
bent elbow so he wasn’t looming over me but he did have the
dominant position.

This, my guess, though I wouldn’t ever know
for certain, was a ploy often used by Frey, Lahn and Tor when their
wives were doing something, which they had every intention of
containing, and such an occurrence happened in bed.

This, I also found irritating, at the same
time I found it titillating.

Which was even more irritating.

Blast!

“You wanna talk about this.” He pressed his
hips into mine. “Us. Where we are. What we did. How it came about.
And you wanna do it because you’re freaked, thinkin’ it happened
too fast or it was the wrong direction for us to go, or whatever
the fuck.”

I didn’t get the opportunity to confirm this
was exactly what I wanted to do, he continued speaking.

“It didn’t happen too fast, Frannie, it took
too fuckin’ long, in my opinion. And it wasn’t the wrong direction.
At least for me, I’m right where I wanted to be since practically
the minute we met. You were in a bad place. I had to see to you. I
did that. That’s done. You’re not in that place anymore so we’re
moving on and this,” he again pressed his hips into mine, “is the
direction we’re moving in.”

In truth, his “it took too fuckin’ long, in
my opinion” made me want to jump from the bed, shout with glee and
perhaps dance a little jig.

Not to mention all the other delightful
things he said (practically the minute we met!).

I was a much-changed Franka Drakkar.

But I was not
that
changed.

Therefore, instead of jumping from the bed, I
asked crossly, “And I have no say about that?”

He was silent a moment before I could feel
the tremor of his amusement shaking his body as he reminded me,
“Frannie, baby, I’ve made you come three times, you’re lying naked
pressed to me and think I permanently got indentations in the backs
of my thighs from the spikes on your heels. And before you latch on
to that,” he said the last swiftly, “that is not a complaint,
nowhere near. Your heels could scar me, which they didn’t, and
taking that memory with me wherever I go would be fine with me. But
you did not fight any of that, and, just pointing out, you
still
aren’t. With all that, you wanna make a case you’re
not good with this direction?”

This was all true (though I was concerned
about the indentations, Noc clearly didn’t mind but those spikes
appeared lethal, I hoped I caused no lasting damage).

And I absolutely did
not
want to make
a case that I was not good with this direction.

I didn’t admit that.

I stated, “I’m not pressed to you. You’re
pressed to me.”

“Fair enough,” he granted. “Three minutes
ago, though, babe, you were pressed to me.”

This, too, was true.

I snapped my mouth shut and fought grinding
my teeth.

I saw his shadowed face get closer and I
could see the white of his teeth.

Hmm.

How could I forget how bloody
annoying
Noc could be?

“So, to be clear, the direction you wish to
go in is that we have relations?” I asked.

More trembling of his body (and voice) as he
replied, “Yeah, sweetheart, I wanna have relations.”

“And what of tomorrow and the next day?” I
pressed, pushing back the hope and pulling up the haughty.

“I’ll amend. We’ve had relations. Tonight,
we’re gonna have more relations. And after we leave this room and
get along with our lives, we’ll
continue
to have relations,
repeatedly and often.”

This was most promising.

In order to confirm, I stated, “To end, you
wish our direction to be about you being open to have sex with
me.”

Unexpectedly, his mirth swept through the
room with such speed, I froze against him in reaction to the
change.

“You really asking me that shit?” he
demanded, his voice low and there was a tremor to it, but it
certainly was not humor.

It was anger.

Noc had never been angry at me.

Not once.

I didn’t like it. Not at all.

I was concerned about the wisdom of my
response, but the veracity of it couldn’t be denied as I’d already
“asked him that shit.”

“Well…yes,” I said hesitantly.

“You think all I want is your pussy?”

I wasn’t certain I’d heard him correctly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You think all I want is your pussy.”

The first was uttered as a statement that was
also an incredulous question.

The second was uttered just as a
statement.

An insulting one.

I lost my concern at his anger and got that
way myself.

“Well, I should hope not,” I snapped, pulling
out from under him, undecided about what to do once I was free of
him, though focused on doing just that.

However I was with Noc. He was a man. A
dominant one. A strong one.