Midnight Soul (48 page)

“We’re here, babe,” he said as I felt the
vehicle’s engine cease running, and then I heard him open his
door.

But I looked beyond the pavement to
“here.”

I heard Noc’s door slam as I whispered, “Oh
my.”

It was a home unlike any I’d seen before.
There was dim light coming from the inside that I could see vaguely
through the front windows of the house and the window over the
door. The night hid the color his home was painted, but I could see
that the woodwork was white. And there was a lovely, black, wrought
iron fence before it spiking up proudly from the edge of the small
lawn.

There was also a vast amount of intricate
millwork along the portico and railing.

And among the three windows at the front of
the house, the middle one was made of rather simple, but quite
lovely, stained glass.

It was tidy. It was immensely attractive. It
had personality. It was in no way grand or overwhelming, but
instead well-tended and welcoming.

All very Noc.

He opened my door as I unleashed myself from
the seat and he took my hand, assisting me to alight his
vehicle.

I saw then the pavements leading to his home
were made of brick.

A lovely touch.

“Shotgun house,” Noc stated as I continued to
take in his home while he guided me there. “Told Valentine I was
going to move to NOLA, I wanted to live in something that was NOLA.
Only other thing it had to have was me bein’ able to own it and
live in it fast as money could change hands. Her agent found this
for me and it rocks.”

He’d opened the iron gate, led me through and
was taking me up the steps as I asked, “Shotgun?”

He looked down at me. “Right. Forgot. You
don’t have guns in your world.” He took me across the small veranda
and let me go to stop at the door, explaining, “A gun is a weapon.
Fires a bullet, or a small projectile, fast, faster than the eye
can see. The bullet travels straight from the barrel to the target.
There’s change in its trajectory due to distance and wind, but it’s
minimal. Not sure you were in a state to notice it, but it’s what I
used when I did my thing against those witch bitches on your
world.”

I was not really in that state to notice.
However, I did recall, vaguely. Obviously, there’d been other
things on my mind.

He opened the door and I saw through to acres
of gleaming wood floors, a brick fireplace with a beautifully
carved wood mantelpiece that was freestanding in a room that went
on the length of the house. Sitting room first, fireplace
delineating it from a dining room and then the this-world kitchen
was entirely visible at the back.

As was the back door.

“Shotgun,” Noc said, drawing me in, “means
you could stand at the front door and shoot a shotgun straight
through the house right out the back door.”

I looked up at him as he stopped us to close
and latch the door behind him.

“Why would one do that?”

He took my hand and drew me deeper into the
space, grinning and answering, “They wouldn’t. That’s just a
nickname for these kinds of homes. Places like this were built
because it gets hot. When it does, you open the doors, a breeze can
get through when you do, cooling the space.”

It could, indeed.

Clever.

“Also,” he went on, “they’re narrow so you
can fit a bunch of them on a street. This one was a double-barrel.
That means it was two houses once that shared a wall. Someone
renovated it, pulling them together. The length that’s now communal
space was once all there was to the house, but now I also have
three bedrooms and two baths.”

He stopped us in the kitchen, which was long,
but narrow, and had a number of quite impressive cupboards, which
included a kind of cupboard-esque/counter-esque seating area in the
middle.

He let me go and turned to a cabinet door,
opening it.

“Will whiskey work for your
digestif
?”
he asked, putting odd emphasis on
digestif
, like that word
amused him.

“Yes, darling,” I murmured, taking in his
furnishings and décor.

Not surprisingly, it was all very masculine.
Somewhat like a high-born member of a House would decorate a
hunting lodge, but with this-world differences, obviously.

I felt Noc touch my waist and turned from my
perusal of his abode to him to see him offering me a glass of amber
liquid.

I took it and barely did so before he moved
into me, maneuvering my position then pinning me with my back
against the counter.

I felt my lips curl up.

“Like it?” he asked quietly.

“Very much,” I answered. “It’s very
attractive. Very masculine. Very inviting. Thus very you.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes
lighting, his chin dipping, saying, “My Frannie has a way with a
compliment.”

“I share this trait with you,” I replied.

He bent closer, his movement taking his nose
a whisper away along the side of mine, his lips
right there
,
before he lifted away and took a sip of his drink.

I drew in breath, delighting in his tease and
taking a sip from my own glass to calm my reaction.

Marvelous, this world had excellent whiskey
and Noc had the taste to procure it.

“Frey,” he said suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, confused at
this and thinking our next activities would be quite different and
have not a thing to do with my cousin in the other world.

Noc focused on me. “Frey and Finnie. They’re
together. Having babies. But the Finnie of this world, Valentine
says, is a lesbian so she’s not gonna be finding her Frey.”

“A lesbian?” I asked.

“She likes only women.”

“Ah,” I whispered, feeling my lips curl
again, for the rumors had been rampant, with most refusing to
believe it, but I just
knew
the deposed Winter Princess was
a
guenipe
. “A
guenipe
,” I stated.

“Say what?”

I focused on him. “We call them
guenipes
in my world. Most usual, for women and men to
prefer the same sex, or both sexes, as a matter of fact. Most
undesirable when the woman happens to be the Winter Princess and
responsible for carrying on the royal line.”

He nodded. “I can see that.”

I took another sip of his excellent whiskey
and noted, “This does not offer balance of the worlds for she would
not be likely to carry on any line here either.”

Noc shook his head. “Nope.”

“Perhaps I’ll look into my crystal ball
tomorrow, find the Frey of this world. Not,” I added swiftly, “to
spy on him or meddle. Simply to assuage my curiosity and, I’m
guessing, yours.”

He grinned. “Crystal ball.”

I understood his amusement and returned his
grin. “I know. It seems absurd, this being precisely what I thought
at first, but it’s most useful.”

Noc had no comment to that.

He had something else on his mind.

“You done with your
digestif
?” he
asked, tipping his head to my glass.

I was not.

And yet I very much was.

But in response to his question, reading the
look in his eyes, thus what was on his mind, I lifted my glass
slowly, took a sip just as slowly, and removed the glass from my
lips at my leisure, all this staring into his eyes and watching
them heat as I did so.

When the glass was away, Noc dropped his head
again, his nose coming close enough it
almost
touched mine.
Dipping it under and around, his lips so
very
close, his
heated eyes unceasingly peering into my own.

“You like to tease, baby?” he whispered.

“Perhaps,” I whispered back.

It seemed he was moving in to take my mouth,
and I held my breath, but just as he got near enough to capture my
lips, he retreated, again only a whisper away.

I tipped my head back, wishing to erase that
whisper, but Noc changed course, lazily running a phantom trail
with his lips along my jaw, my cheekbone and back to my lips, right
there, but not there enough.

My heart was beating a swift tattoo, the area
between my legs tingling, growing moist, and I swayed slightly into
him, wanting to remove even the limited distance we had.

But Noc put his drink down on the counter
behind me, his hand spanning my hip and holding me steady.

And away.

I felt his lower lip brush mine but the touch
was so light, it was like a dream.

Thus I felt my nipples strain the material
confining them, a pleasurable discomfort.

“You tease too,” I accused softly.

“Mm…”

This he murmured as his face got even
closer.

But not close enough.

Gods, he was better at this even than me!

And it was marvelous.

I put a hand to his stomach and drifted it
up.

“I would very much like you to kiss me,
darling,” I requested.

“Yeah,” was all he said as a reply.

“Now,” I demanded, swaying closer, and he
allowed the touch of our bodies but didn’t give me his mouth.

“Now?” he asked.

“Now,” I repeated.

He ran the tip of his nose along the flare of
my nostril and then adjusted so I could feel the hairs of his brow
brush mine.

My breath started to get heavy.

“How much you want my mouth, Frannie?” he
asked.

“Quite a bit,” I answered, trailing my hand
around his side to his back and up to his shoulder blade, pressing
in.

He resisted.

I felt my panties dampen.

“Noc,” I breathed.

“Say please,” he ordered.

My eyes narrowed even as my womb
convulsed.

“You’re very bad,” I admonished.

“You think you ask pretty you won’t get your
reward?” he inquired.

That was an excellent point.

“Say please,” he urged, giving me the barest
trace of his mouth. I sought more, but he denied me. “Say it,
baby.”

There was nothing for it.

“Please, Noc,” I pressed my breasts into his
chest, “may I have your mouth?” I whispered, and I got my reward
from the burn in his eyes even before he gave me my real
reward.

“Absolutely,” he growled and then he gave me
what I asked for.

I was so attuned to him, I nearly dropped my
glass in an effort to clutch him to me the instant I tasted his
tongue, forgetting I even held it.

Fortunately, Noc had more presence of mind
and before the kiss heated, my glass joined his on the counter.

My arse also joined the glasses on the
counter when Noc suddenly yanked up my skirt, lifted me and planted
me there, pushing in, forcing my legs open, rounding me tightly in
his arms so my intimate parts were pressed to his hardening ones
and his mouth devoured mine.

When I was grasping his hair, whimpering down
his throat and grinding my hips into his, he lifted his head and
looked down at me with eyes ablaze.

“Ready for bed?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I breathed.

Noc grinned.

Then he lifted me off the counter, put me on
my feet, yanked down my skirt, took possession of my hand and
pulled me out of the kitchen.

* * * * *

“No, please,” I begged.

I was close. So very close.

As I had been, time and again, repeatedly,
while Noc spent what felt like
ages
taking me in a heady
variety of positions, some of them I didn’t know existed.

And as he took me, touching me, kissing me,
nibbling, biting, licking, suckling, thrusting inside me, he
brought me to the precipice of climax.

And then he’d pull out, whip my body into a
new position and start all over again.

This time, I was on my back, Noc between my
legs.

But he’d pulled out and was hooking me behind
my knee. He lifted that leg across the front of his body, forcing
it to the other side. He found the back of my other knee and bent
that in line so both legs were angled the same, inner thighs
pressed together, the outside of one leg pushed to the bed, but my
hips were twisted to the side, my arse and pussy offered to
him.

I caught his gaze as I tried to catch my
breath.

He imprisoned my gaze while his other hand
wrapped around his cock, he found me and drove inside.

My lips parted, my eyes closed and my neck
arched.

“Look at me,” he grunted, thrusting deep.

I forced my eyes to open and again found
his.

“Twist at the waist, Frannie, hands over your
head, press them against the headboard. I wanna watch you move with
me.”

I didn’t hesitate even a moment to adhere to
this command.

His eyes dropped to my breasts that were
surging with each plunge.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, putting a hand in
the bed at the small of my back, arm straight, giving him leverage,
as he removed his other arm from the backs of my knees and shoved
his hand between my legs, finding my sensitive nub.

I lifted my top knee higher to give him
better access and my entire body spasmed.

“Noc,” I gasped, my back arcing, the pleasure
rippling over me, driving me down into his thrusts.

“Whose cock are you taking?” he asked.

“Yours,” I forced out.

He drove home and ground inside.

I whimpered.

“Whose?” he demanded to know.

I stared into his striking face, which was
now harsh with pleasure, and knew the answer.

“Mine,” I whispered, beginning to tremble not
only with what he was doing to me but the force of his meaning.

He started thrusting again.

“Whose pussy is this?” he bit out.

“Yours, darling. It’s yours,” I gasped, my
trembling turning to tremors.

“Fuck yeah, it’s mine.”

“My love, I need to climax,” I begged and
only vaguely watched something fierce, frightening and exquisite
brand itself into his features.

“Say that again,” he ordered.