Midnight Soul

by Kristen Ashley

  “I see,” I told the ceiling, “that I should learn when to shut my mouth.”

  He slid his lips back to mine and stated, “Now is not that time.”

  I started to say something and didn’t finish because Noc was kissing my open mouth and doing it deeply.

  And then he set about proving that it was, indeed, bullshit that I was not in the mood for another orgasm.

  Apparently, I was.

  In fact, apparently, I was in the mood for two.

  * * * * *

  Noc’s hands insistent on my hips, he murmured, “Faster, sweetheart.”

  I did not move faster.

  Sitting astride him, I gazed down at him lying on his back before me in the faint early morning light and took my time moving up and down on his shaft, shifting my hips or torso minutely to change the angle, give him a surprise, offer him more, all while I watched his enjoyment.

  As did he, watching me do my work.

  His fingers dug into my flesh.

  “Frannie, baby, faster.”

  I again didn’t go faster.

  That night, I’d had eight orgasms. He’d had one. I could take all the time I needed to give him the depth of pleasure I was right then intent to give him.

  Moving at the same speed, I bent over him, trailing a hand lazily down his chest. My hair falling over my shoulder and brushing his pectoral, I squeezed my walls around his cock, filled myself with him and started undulating.

  “Fuck, Frannie,” he gritted, his eyes aflame, his fingers now biting into me.

  “Allow me to give you something, darling.”

  “You been givin’ somethin’ to me but givin’ more of it to me about now would be good, baby.”

  I smiled at him.

  His gaze dropped to my mouth and his body under mine went utterly still.

  I found that an odd and disturbing reaction.

  Then, with a surprised cry, I found myself again on my knees but no longer straddling Noc with his shaft inside me.

  I was facing the headboard, forced slightly to bent by Noc’s chest in my back. He had a hand between my legs, finger at my clitoris, his other hand was angled across my chest, those fingers curled around the side of my neck.

  And he was driving his cock inside me swiftly and brutally.

  Oh.

  My, my, my.

  The pad of thumb pressed up under my jaw, forcing my head back to his shoulder as he kept taking me violently, pounding into me.

  Amazing.

  His lips at my ear, he grunted, “Want number nine.”

  “Noc,” I forced out.

  Loving the feel of his cock slamming into me, the power of him surrounding me, the dominance of him having mounted me, I lifted a hand to brace myself against the headboard so I could get more out of his thrusts.

  “Come on, baby,” his finger at my clitoris started twitching dazzlingly, “give me nine.”

  I felt the tingles ripple up the fronts of my thighs and I started to push myself back to meet his drives, gasping with effort and pleasure through each.

  His thumb at my jaw slid in, over my lip and inside my mouth.

  “Suck,” he ordered.

  I suckled and the instant I did, the power of his movements intensified.

  The taste of him, the feel of him, I moaned against his thumb, my body bucking with the orgasm that suddenly crashed over me. Jarred by his increasing thrusts, I pulled hard on his thumb in my mouth and burrowed my head in his shoulder, experiencing glory.

  “That’s nine,” he grunted, sliding his thumb out of my mouth to wrap his hand fully around my jaw, “now give me ten, Frannie.”

  “Noc,” I panted, still in the throes of number nine.

  He kept at me, finger at my clitoris and cock driving deep.

  “Fuck, you should see you taking me,” he groaned, and if it was possible (which it was since he did it), he started taking me harder. “Your tits. Your face. Your cunt. Goddamned beautiful.”

  I heard him. I loved the words.

  But I was in the middle of marveling about the fact I could feel another climax coming so I couldn’t reply.

  “This, baby,” he stated, his fingers at my jaw holding tighter, “what we’re doin’ right now, is fucking.”

  “I…like…fucking,” I pushed out.

  “Good,” he grunted, slamming inside.

  Good was an understatement.

  “Next time, I’m doin’ you in front of a mirror.”

  At his enticing words, my arm flew up and back. I caught his hair in my grip and gave him number ten, even after all he’d given me that night, not to mention just climaxing, orgasming violently in his hold.

  “There we go,” he growled then drove inside, grinding, and I heard and felt his grunts sound against my shoulder as he climaxed inside me.

  After some time, when heartbeats and breathing had slowed, Noc wrapped one arm around my belly, the other hand he moved to again curl around the side of my neck and he took me with his cock slowly, tenderly. So beautiful.

  So Noc.

  After offering that intimate caress, he slowly pulled out, laid me on my back, kissed my belly, my chest, my chin and looked in my eyes.

  “Right back,” he murmured.

  He was good on his promise. Leaving me to dispose of the sheath, he returned and I was in his arms under the covers, my back to his front.

  I was also half asleep.

  “Figure we got maybe four hours before we have to check out,” he muttered into the back of my hair.

  “Check out?” I mumbled.

  His arms around me tightened and he answered, “I’ll explain later. Now, sleep.”

  My drifting eyes drifted closed and stayed that way.

  My mouth did not.

  “Noc?” I called.

  “Yeah, Frannie.”

  “All of the parts I do,” I told him.

  “What?”

  “All of the parts I do,” I repeated.

  He burrowed his face into my hair and pulled me deeper into his arms, murmuring a sleepy, “Sorry, baby, I don’t get it.”

  “All of the parts that make you, I cherish,” I explained. Vaguely I felt his warm, languid body go solid all around me. “It’s only when you’re being bloody-minded that I tell myself I don’t. But I cherish that too, because it’s you.”

  I finished by finding one of his wrists at my midriff, wrapping my fingers around it and giving it a squeeze.

  Promptly after accomplishing that, I fell fast asleep with Noc’s body still solid behind me, his arms holding me tight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dashboard Lights

  Noc

  “What does this do?”

  “It counts how many steps you take and you can input what you’ve eaten, what exercise you’ve done, how much water you’ve drunk, and it tracks how far you’ve walked, how many calories you’ve burned, how long you’ve been active, things like that.”

  Complete silence.

  Then.

  “And what does this do?”

  “Uh, well…it’s a scale.”

  “A scale?”

  “A scale.”

  “What sort of scale?”

  A different kind of silence, then…

  “You step on it and it tells you how much you weigh.”

  “Why would you need to know that?”

  “Um…”

  Noc was having trouble not busting a gut laughing.

  He really should intervene. The sales guy at the phone store probably made squat. He didn’t need two parallel universe women asking him a million questions.

  Though, Josette was the one asking the questions. Frannie was standing tucked close to his side, her arm around his waist, his arm around her shoulders, being quiet and watching her girl take in her new world and doing it with a sweet, sexy smile on her face.

  From what he’d experienced since taking Franka to Valentine’s so she could change clothes and get ready for the day, then taking both her and Jose
tte out for beignets, Noc knew the guy was in for it. But it was so hilarious, and Josette was having so much fun, he couldn’t bring himself to stop it.

  He’d learned that day when she’d cried out in Café du Monde, “By the goddess Hermia, there are Maroovians everywhere! Isn’t it divine?” that Josette was into black dudes seeing as, as far as Noc could tell while in their world, people from Maroo (as well as some from Keenhak) were black.

  And the sales guy was a good-looking black dude.

  Another reason Noc didn’t intervene.

  Though, after realizing she was attracted to black guys, he’d spent some time in the car explaining political correctness to help her out in not putting her foot in it. He just had to hope Josette took it in from her place in the back with her nose pressed to the window and her mouth hanging open.

  “Never mind,” Josette said to the sales guy. “Where are you from?”

  “Uh, where am I from?”

  “You know, what country on this planet?”

  The guy looked from Josette to Noc and Franka, got no help, so he looked back to Josette.

  “America,” he answered.

  Josette turned to Noc. “That’s where we are now, right?”

  “Yeah, babe.” Noc’s voice was shaking, “That’s where we are now.”

  Josette turned again to the sales guy and declared, “You’re very handsome. We don’t have many handsome men like you where I’m from.”

  The guy’s eyes got huge then they dropped to Josette’s impressive rack.

  At that, Noc had to take half a step back (taking Frannie with him) and bend at the waist a little to alleviate the pain in his side from controlling his laughter.

  “Darling,” Frannie murmured but said no more, and he could hear in that one word she thought it was hilarious too.

  “I’m uncertain what the etiquette is,” Josette went on. “Where I’m from, I’d just ask you, after you’re finished with your duties, if you’d like to meet me at a pub for an ale and then take me to your bed.” She again turned to Noc as he made a choking noise. “What do you do here?”

  “Uh,” he pushed out, “not that…exactly.”

  Josette took in Noc’s position, expression and tone, and not stupid, she interpreted all of them.

  Which meant she returned her attention back to the guy, murmuring, “Pity.”

  “Jesus, where are you from?” he whispered.

  “Not here,” Josette gave him the understatement of the decade, looked to the display of stuff at her side and asked, “What’s that?”

  “Same as the other band but it has a clock on it and monitors your heart rate,” the guy answered, sounding strangled.

  “Now, why on earth would you need that?” Josette asked.

  “Young fellow,” Franka called before he could respond, and Noc swallowed a bark of laughter at the words she chose.

  Josette and the sales guy turned their attention to her and when they did, the sales guy again had big eyes, probably because he’d never been called “young fellow” in his life.

  Franka went on, “We’re here for telephones. As illuminating as this is, perhaps we should move on to that part of our expedition.”

  “Right this way,” he said quickly and moved even quicker. He started his spiel before they got to the phone section. “We have a wide selection, a number of plans, different data options, our coverage is the best in the country and—”

  “I’ll take that one,” Franka declared, pointing at a rose-gold iPhone.

  “Yes, pink!” Josette exclaimed. “I’ll take that one too.” She whirled to Franka. “We’ll have twin telephones, Franka! Won’t that be divine?”

  “Indeed it will, my dear,” Franka murmured, again sounding amused.

  The salesman stood in the midst of a sea of phones and looked to Noc.

  “Let’s just go with that, yeah?” Noc suggested.

  “Right,” the guy mumbled.

  “To make this easy on you, they’re probably not gonna need more than three gigs on the plan,” he told him. “They’re also not gonna need the larger storage capacity on the phone.”

  “Gotcha,” came the reply. “I’ll go get ’em now.”

  And he took off.

  Fast.

  “Well, that’s somewhat rude,” Josette muttered, eyeing him as he went and looking put out.

  “My assumption from his earlier reaction is,” Franka started and Noc looked to her, “regardless of the fact that the women wear far less clothing, as do the men on some occasions, the sexual mores here are more stringent than they are at home, am I correct?”

  Since he still had her in his hold, Noc curled her into his front, enjoying watching that slim, gorgeous neck of hers arch further back to keep hold of his gaze as he answered, “Not sure I can answer that question accurately. Didn’t go on the prowl in your world, sugarlips.”

  She nodded smartly, sharing, “Josette told no tales. In our world, it’s not unusual for a young woman, or man, to approach someone they find attractive and offer to share their bed. Flirting is sometimes utilized, but it’s also often abandoned. No use wasting time when you can discover quite quickly if both parties desire the same thing. Is this not done here?”

  He fought a grin as he shook his head and added, “Nope.”

  “Oh dear, was I rude?” Josette asked, sounding horrified.

  Noc looked to her. “I figure he’s never gonna forget today, not in a bad way, and right about now he’s trying to decide if you saw his wedding band so he can take it off, come back out and take you up on your offer.”

  “Wedding band?” Franka asked.

  He looked down into her beautiful face, still unable to decide if it was more beautiful made up or not.

  When he did he thought of seeing that face for the first time in months the night before.

  He also thought of all the brilliance that came after.

  Especially the brilliance of what she’d said right before she drifted to sleep in his arms.

  He then forced himself to stop thinking about this because, if he didn’t, he’d drag Frannie to his Suburban, take her to his new place and not give a shit they were leaving Josette behind. And that would not only not be cool, Josette was not like a babe in the woods.

  She was like a kid in a candy store.

  And that was worse.

  “The band on his left ring finger,” he shared. “If a man has a band there, that means he’s married.”

  “How marvelous!” Josette cried. “And what an excellent idea.” She turned to Franka. “If our men wore bands, a woman would know and she wouldn’t have to walk into a pub and unexpectedly have some wench accost her, tearing at her hair and clothing and spitting in her face.”

  Clearly, this was something that had happened to Josette.

  Christ.

  Franka, already relaxed into his body and his hold, relaxed deeper while noting, “I never did quite understand the impulse of the wronged wife going after the lover. If the lover knew about the wife, all’s fair and I bid her strength in every pull and as much spittle as she can produce. If she didn’t, why tear at her hair and spit in her face? The lover was wronged as well, perhaps not as wronged as the wife, but she was wronged. The wife should be tearing at her husband’s hair and spitting in his face.” She tipped her head back and looked to Noc. “Do you agree? Or are vows of fidelity not practiced here as Cora and Circe shared they were?”

  “They’re practiced,” he replied. “And I agree. A dude cheats, his wife cuts off his dick, my thoughts, he’s got no place to complain.”

  A sweet, happy light lit in Franka’s eyes at his words.

  “His dick?” Josette stage-whispered to Franka, she turned to her girl and Noc lost that light.

  But he’d had it, he liked it and he was good with that.

  Midnight soul.

  Not even fucking close.

  “I do believe, with that term, that Noc’s referring to a man’s member,” Franka stage-whispered back.


  And Noc was again fighting laughter.

  “They vow fidelity here?” Josette asked.

  “They do,” Franka told her.

  “Odd,” Josette mumbled.

  Noc was surprised. “You don’t in your world?”

  Frannie looked back up at him. “As they speak an ancient tongue, no one actually knows what the Vallees are saying during the marriage ceremony, even, in some cases, the Vallees. But my understanding is, no. Fidelity is not vowed in the Dwelling of the Gods when a man and woman are officially wed. Expected by the lower classes, definitely.” Her mouth tightened. “Expected from the females of all the classes, also definitely. Expected from the males of the Houses, no.”

  “I take it you don’t like that much,” Noc observed.

  “What’s expected for one should be expected for all,” she replied.

  Noc again beat back laughter as he curled her closer and dipped his face to hers. “Listen to my Frannie, just a few months ago you were all about class, conservative to the core. Now you sound like a socialist.”

  “I’ve no idea what that means but the teasing light in your eyes and the grin on your lips I have seen on a variety of occasions. As such, I do know what they mean and they make me think I should be finding you annoying right now,” she returned.

  “Not today, baby,” he murmured, giving her a squeeze. “Today started great, it’s going great, and it’s going to keep going that way so let’s get along.”

  “With delight,” she agreed. “But only because you called me ‘my Frannie’ and it’s the first time you’ve called me anything, outside Franka and sweetheart, that I like, so it’s put me in a good mood.”

  Noc liked that she liked that.

  And he liked that she looked almost as good in jeans and a designer tee as she did in that unbelievable dress she’d worn last night. He liked that she wasn’t letting the heels beat her and she had on another pair (or it could be that Valentine had only supplied those and she had nothing else, Valentine wasn’t at her place when they showed that morning and didn’t return before they left—not that he’d ask about Frannie’s shoes, but he would express his gratitude).