Ten Times

Franka

 

After Noc gave me a dressing gown to put on that the inn supplied (an unusual but lovely amenity), sat me down at the side of the bed and took off my shoes (a tenderness I would not soon forget), he divested me of the beads he’d bestowed on me and guided me to the small room attached to our chamber.

I stood in it with him blinking my eyes against the unnatural brightness.

“Right, basics,” Noc declared, and he sounded like he was about to impart something important, so I attempted to focus on him through the glare.

He was moving to the only chair in the space, and it didn’t look comfortable.

“Toilet,” he stated. “Self-explanatory,” he went on.

This was not true.

Until he lifted the lid.

By the gods.

It was a commode.

“Do your thing, use that.” He pointed to something that looked like rolled tissue fastened to the wall. “When you’re done, hit this,” he finished and depressed a lever.

Water noises filled the room and I stared in astonishment as the water in the bowl disappeared while other water whooshed around the sides, undoubtedly making it so anything that was deposited in said bowl vanished without a trace.

Pure brilliance!

“Extraordinary,” I breathed, watching the water swirl.

There was a grin in Noc’s voice as he grabbed me about the back of my neck, yanked me into his side and continued, saying, “Sink,” while taking us to the basin. “Hot, cold,” he stated, twisting knobs that made water flow rather forcefully into the basin without pumping.

“By the gods,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from this glorious spectacle.

“Left’s always hot,” he carried on, turning off the left knob.

Always…hot?

But how? I saw no fire.

I didn’t get the chance to ask, Noc kept speaking.

“But it doesn’t come out that way at first. That said, Frannie, be careful because hot sometimes can get hot. Right’s always cold.”

I lifted what I knew were rounded eyes to him.

He looked into them, burst out laughing and turned me fully into him, wrapping both his arms around me.

He then dropped his face so it was close to mine, stopped laughing but continued smiling, his eyes dancing, and he said, “You look like that over a sink and toilet, beautiful, the next couple of weeks are gonna be a goddamned blast.”

If the little I’d already experienced was any indication, he was far from wrong.

But I wasn’t thinking about the commode and basin (or not entirely about them).

“Indeed,” I replied, staring right in his eyes.

He continued smiling as he said, “Now, I gotta go out for a bit. I didn’t expect our reunion to go that way and didn’t come prepared. Need to pick up some condoms. Also gonna grab some cold beer. I’ll order the pizza, leave some money in case they deliver it before I get back, take off and do that. Fast as I can, I’ll be back. But I’ll show you how to work the TV before I go so you have something to do.”

I didn’t want him to go.

Though I could use a cold beverage.

“What are condoms?” I asked.

“Protection.” At my blank look, he explained further. “What I put on so I could have you and not give us both somethin’ we don’t want right now.”

His answer didn’t exactly make sense until it dawned on me.

“Oh, the sheath,” I said.

He nodded, pulling his face from mine slightly, but he was still smiling. “Yeah. The sheath. I need to go get more of those.”

He certainly did.

“I approve of your plan,” I shared.

His smile got bigger and his hold on me got tighter.

“Take you with me but seems you haven’t quite bested the challenge of walking on heels.”

His words confused me.

“I’ve been walking on my heels for decades now, Noc, as anyone who can ambulate does. It’s walking on spikes that’s a challenge.”

“You’re right,” he said through a low chuckle, then dropped down again but only to touch his mouth to mine before he guided me out of the small chamber. He did this saying, “Now, the TV.”

He then introduced me to the TV.

And it was extraordinary.

 

* * * * *

 

I heard the door open and the only move I made from my highly inelegant position of sitting cross-legged on the bed (something Josette was prone to do during our breakfasts, something I belatedly realized was quite comfortable) was leaning forward to watch Noc walk down the short hall.

“Darling, you cannot imagine what’s happening on this screen,” I stated, flinging an arm out in disgust toward the television, an apparatus I’d been “channel surfing” (Noc’s term of what he’d taught me to do) since he left.

He walked into the chamber, his eyes taking me in before he shifted them to the television while setting a number of bottles in a rather ingenious carrier on the bureau and tossing a rustling scrap of something with it.

“You’re watching Chopped?” he asked the television.

“I am indeed,” I affirmed before I declared, “And it…is…outrageous. It’s clear these chefs are highly trained and dedicated to their craft. Why that bespectacled man would pit them against each other, giving them no time at all to create culinary masterpieces but expect just that, I do not know. Then those three awful people sit in judgement of the dishes the chefs create, knowing the limitations they worked under, even watching the process, and still being unforgivably rude after they were gifted with the opportunity of tasting the results. I understand the challenge of giving the chefs odd ingredients to work with. But the rest is beyond me. It seems senseless and at times it’s cruel.”

“TV programs where talented people are pitted against each other and then rude people judge them is a big thing in this world, sugarlips. Cooking. Singing. Dancing. Even falling in love is television sport.”

At this statement, my brows drew up and I turned my attention from the screen to him, asking, “Falling in love?”

He nodded, but did it saying, “Though, I don’t watch those.”

“That’s absurd,” I declared. “People wish to watch this drivel?”

He came toward me, mouth quirking. “Babe, I totally dig this program. I even DVR it. Never miss an episode.”

I couldn’t believe it (not the part about DVR, I had no idea what that meant). The concept of Noc enjoying this form of entertainment. He didn’t have an ounce of rudeness in him.

“Truly?” I asked.

“Yup,” he answered, right before he lunged and I found myself hauled up the bed.

No longer sitting inelegantly, or at all, I ended Noc’s maneuver on my back with Noc on me.

And I couldn’t see the TV.

“No pizza?” he asked softly.

“No,” I answered breathily. “They’ve yet to arrive.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Right, then we’re makin’ out until it comes.”

I had no idea what that meant.

What I did know was that on the program the appetizer round was over and they were getting into entrées.

“Noc, I’m rather hoping the female chef will beat out the males and they’re just starting the entrée round.”

He looked back to my eyes. “Frannie, making out means kissing, hot and heavy, with groping, and a lot of it.”

“Oh,” I whispered and made an instant decision. “I’m sure the female will triumph. Instead of watching her emerge victorious, let’s do that.”

Noc grinned at me again while his head descended.

Then we did that.

 

* * * * *

 

“So?” Noc asked.

“What?” It came out garbled as my mouth was full.

It was bad-mannered.

I simply didn’t care.

Pizza was sublime.

He tipped his head to the magnificence I was shoving in my mouth. “You like it?”

“It’s quite good,” I replied, still chewing, but even so, I took another huge bite of the scrumptious doughy, spicy, cheesy miracle in my hand.

“Quite good,” he muttered, shaking his head and reaching toward the box on the bed between us.

At his alarming movements, I darted out a hand and grabbed his wrist.

Swallowing, I cried, “Noc, that’s the last of it!”

He looked up at me. “Yeah. And you hoovered through your half. That slice is the last of my half.”

This was unfortunate because it was true.

Fair was fair, and apparently, along with generous, outgoing and social, the Franka I was seemed to be fair.

This meant I let him go, requesting, “Can we order another?”

At this, Noc’s eyes grew big. “Frannie, this one was a large. Usually, three, four people eat this amount.”

I stared down at the sad, now empty box before again turning my attention to Noc.

“Can we have more tomorrow?”

He grinned at me, reached out, hooked me behind the neck (again, something he seemed fond of doing, something I was fond of him doing) and pulled me to him for a peck on the lips before he let me go.

And promptly denied me.

“We’re havin’ étouffée for dinner tomorrow.”

“I want this,” I announced, lifting up the remains of my slice.

Amusement unhidden, he stated, “Trust me. You have étouffée, you’ll want that.”

I had no choice but to trust him. He had this world’s coin. I did not. I couldn’t pay for my own pizza even if I figured out how to order it as he’d done this one.

On this thought, I shared, “I want my next lesson to be about the telephone. And along with that, the ordering of food.”

Noc chewed, swallowed, crinkled his eyes at me with his humor and said, “After beignets, first order of business is gettin’ you and Josette your own cells. So tomorrow, we’ll get on that.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, taking one of the last bites of my pizza. Deciding to turn my mind from the dismal fact there may be only two bites left, I looked to Noc and queried, “How many sheaths did you procure?”

“Box of ten.”

I blinked.

Rapidly.

And my voice was pitched higher when I inquired, “Can you perform that often in one night?”

Noc’s body moved, the bed moved with it, and I recognized the laughter as his voice vibrated when he replied, “They come in boxes of ten, sweetheart.”

I sounded somewhat strangled when I pressed, “That doesn’t answer the question, my dearest.”

“How the fuck you can make ‘my dearest’ sweet and hot, I do not know,” Noc muttered.

“Noc!” I snapped, beginning to panic, for I was a skilled lover but the way Noc made love I was relatively certain I couldn’t perform ten times in one night.

His eyes glinted as he asked, “You not up for ten times?”

Was he jesting?

He had to be jesting.

“I, well…that would…that is, I’ve never—”

I stopped speaking (or, blast it all, stammering) when Noc reached out, took the last of my pizza from my hand and tossed it into the box.

I glared at it, turned my glare to him, but the remains of his pizza had joined it and he was shoving the box off the bed.

This accomplished, before I could protest his cavalier treatment of our pizza, he pulled me into his arms and rolled me over him so I was again on my back and he was on me.

“No, baby,” he admitted quietly, “I can’t perform ten times in one night.”

“Oh,” I said quietly in return, not certain if I should be relieved or disappointed. Just knowing a certain area in my body probably would not stand up to that challenge, even if I wanted it to.

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.

Not to mention, he already had his arm around me.

It being thus, he simply used it to drag me right back where I was.

“I need to use the commode,” I lied.

“You so do not,” he returned.

“You’re correct. I don’t need to use the commode. I need a moment away from you for I’m angry at you and my temper is formidable. It being so, I’ve found it best, if I can’t use it to an advantage, to absent myself when it flares.”

“Franka, to make things clear, just in case the impossible is happening and you’re missing any of this, what I want from you is not just sex. It’s anything you got to give to me. Including your formidable temper. So, babe, if you got somethin’ to say, say it. And if you don’t mind, it’d be cool you started with telling me why you’re pissed when you just said straight out that you thought all I wanted from you was being open to fuck you.”

By the gods!

How on earth could he think that’s what I said?

“I did not say any such thing,” I rejoined.

“You did.”

“I did not.”

“I got a good memory but I don’t need it seein’ as it wasn’t even two minutes ago you said, ‘you wish our direction to be about you being open to have sex with me.’ Are you denying that now?” he asked.

“Of course not,” I answered.

Noc pulled slightly away, the temperature in the room decreased and that chill frosted his words as he commanded, “So again, explain to me how it is you’re pissed when you just said all I’m angling for is your pussy, which means you think that’s all I’ve been angling for when it comes to you.”

Bloody hell!

He’d lost his mind!

“I did not say that, Noc,” I snapped.

He pulled away further and his voice started rising when he returned, “You fuckin’ did, Franka, and you just fuckin’ confirmed you did.”

My voice was rising too. “I did not, Noctorno!”

“Do not call me that,” he gritted between his teeth.

“Do not claim I mean ridiculous, offensive things when I don’t,” I retorted.

“Then tell me what you meant,” he ordered.

“You’re fond of me,” I bit out.

“Yeah,” he bit back.

“You missed me when we were apart.”

“Uh…yeah, been over that. What’s this—?”

I interrupted him. “And you’re very aware I felt the same for you with both. So, my assumption, indeed my hope would be that what we had would remain. Being fond of each other. Enjoying each other’s company and therefore spending a goodly amount of time in it. But our direction…now…is the addition that you wish to be open to have sex with me.”

He had no reply to that.

This was not a surprise.

He’d jumped to conclusions, he should have known better and, again, I had no direct experience, but I would assert it was a good guess that a man such as him—regardless of the profoundness of his ability to be gentle and kind—would have an overabundance of pride.

So when he was wrong he would not be eager to admit that.

This was something that angered me even more.

And because of that, I did not keep my mouth shut.

“I can’t imagine how, in all the time you’ve spent with me, Noctorno, that you would ever consider I’d think such about you. I have a midnight soul, it’s true, but light shines upon it every once in a while. I feel its warmth when it does and it means everything to me. Everything. So much of everything, you’ve given me your light and there are precisely five beings I’d take a lash for…Kristian, Josette, Timofei, Frantz and you.”

“Frannie—” he whispered, his tone much changed.

But I was angry.

In other words, there was no stopping me.

“And just in case you missed any of it, I thoroughly enjoyed your lovemaking. I’ve never had the like. It’s abandoned. It’s somehow freeing. You make even when I’m giving something to you about you giving something to me, and I don’t know how you accomplish that but it’s a thing of beauty. So, to be honest, even if I didn’t have all the other parts of Noctorno Hawthorne that you’ve given me, parts I cherish, I would not mind in the slightest that all you wanted was my pussy.”

He again did not reply.

I had nothing more to say and since he wasn’t letting me go, I was forced to wait it out for it was undignified to struggle.

As I waited, I started making plans, doing this in my head. These being finding Valentine with magic, demanding she come, take me to her and Josette, and that she do this immediately. If she did not, I’d do it and she’d not yet taught me how to spirit myself. She told me not to practice without her either.

“The results, chérie, if you did something wrong, could be drastic,” she’d warned.

If she didn’t do it, I still was going to. I didn’t care if I ended up in oblivion (for a spell, that obviously wouldn’t do for eternity).

Suddenly it occurred to me that Noc was no longer pulled away and the temperature of the room was no longer chilled by his mood, this making me focus on his shadowed face again.

It was as if he felt my focus, for the instant I did he asked, “You done?”

“With what?” I queried.

“Telling me off.”

“Yes,” I answered.

“And while you were seething after you did that, did you plot my murder, visualize beating the crap outta me or make your plan to contact Valentine and have her come and get you?”

This question made me recall a conversation I’d had with Cora months ago where she was describing, at some length, the investigative prowess of the “police” in her old world. I knew nothing of the skills or duties of the city guard and had never had any interest (though, when Cora was speaking, I was all ears).

What Cora said about this was impressive, and not simply because I knew Noc engaged in these activities and I thought everything about him was impressive.

However, having a naked man in bed with you and being in the middle of an argument with said man who also had what appeared to be significant powers of insight, was vexing.

“I’ll be contacting Valentine,” I shared.

“No you won’t.”

Gods.

How very Noc.

I sighed and looked to the dark ceiling.

“Midnight soul?” This question came not with the nuance of humor that had been threading his tone but with something solemn.

I looked back at him.

“You are aware you’re in bed with Franka Drakkar, not my twin of this world, aren’t you?”

It was then I wondered about my twin in this world, something I’d never thought to do.

Gods, I hoped she didn’t live in this very city. How awkward would that be, running into her?

“Babe, you wanna focus on me, or are you dialing up Valentine?”

I did as he not-exactly asked and focused on him.

“I’m not ‘dialing up’ Valentine.”

“So you wanna focus on me? Seein’ as we’re havin’ a kinda important conversation.”

He was right.

Drat.

“I’m focused on you, Noc,” I assured.

“Midnight soul?” he pressed.

“Yes?”

Abruptly, all I could see was a shadow, that shadow being his face, which was a breath from mine.

“Is that what you think you’ve got?”

I felt my brows draw together, but since he likely didn’t have night vision along with his awesome powers of deduction, I stated my confusion.

“You find this surprising?”

“Frannie, you took your brother’s beatings since you knew that was an option.”

To that, it was me who had no reply.

“That’s the most selfless thing I’ve ever known,” he declared.

Why, oh why did we have to get into this?

However, in all fairness to Noc, we needed to do just that. If he didn’t already know from things the others told him, he needed to know who he had naked and lying abed with him.

“You know I’ve done terrible things, Noc,” I said quietly.

“I know you’ve acted like a complete bitch to keep people from getting close, Frannie. But that doesn’t mean dick.”

“I’m of my parents, and even midnight has a hue. Their souls are void.”

“Your dad is an arrogant prick,” he returned. “Your mom, I don’t know, but the minute she lost her power she lost herself, so the only thing I can think about that, is that her power was her, that and the position her husband gave her. He’s an asshole. She’s worse, because in the end she’s actually just nothing and really always has been.”

This was all very true.

Which made me wonder why he would question my assertion.

“They made me,” I reiterated.

“They did and that’s the miracle of life, babe. Some people get good from good. Some people are good and make bad. And some people are like your folks. They’re wastes of space and they created you and your brother, who are absolutely not.”

I adored that he thought that way.

It was just that it simply wasn’t true.

“You don’t know the person I was.”

“I know what you said to Maddie, right to her face. Lo told me. He knows your story now, Frannie. Like everyone else, he’s changed his tune about you. That said, he’s still pissed about that and he’ll never forgive you for it because that’s the guy he is. He loves his wife, you wounded her, he’s never gonna let that go. And I get that, what you said to her was not nice. It was nasty.”

To be honest, though I wouldn’t share this verbally at that juncture (or maybe ever), his example was a poor one.

I did not know Maddie very well. She’d gone before all had happened at the Winter Palace with me. But I still did not quite understand her and Apollo’s relationship.

It was none of my business, this was true. And it was without doubt I shouldn’t have spoken my mind to Madeleine.

However, the circumstances were dire, my lover was being tortured by malevolent witches, I was in the middle of being caught committing treason against my country, and, at least in that instance, I felt I should have some leeway.

“It was also the way you had to be because of what those parents of yours did to you,” Noc concluded.

Suddenly afraid to touch him, but needing to do so, I lifted my hand and wrapped it around his jaw before I said quietly, “Noc, I fear you’re making excuses because you hold feelings for me and this allows you not to see me for me. Or the me I used to be before all that occurred.”

“Franka,” he replied instantly, shifting so he was completely on top of me, his hands gliding all the way up my back so he could use both to cup my head, “no offense, baby, but that’s complete bullshit.”

Noc.

Bloody annoying.

Even in moments like these.

My hand still at his jaw moved to his shoulder and shoved as I snapped, “It is not.”

“It’s what you tell yourself so you don’t lose hold on everything you know, and I get that, sweetheart. The way your reality has shifted the last months, all you’ve known gone in a blink, that’s gotta be pretty fuckin’ scary. But everyone knows it was all an act. It was always an act. They know the real you. The only one who doesn’t is you.”

This was a refrain I’d heard before.

He was right about the new Franka.

But he was also very wrong for the new Franka was just that.

New.

“It’s impossible for people, including you, Noc, to know me better than me.”

One of his thumbs started drawing soothing circles on the skin under my ear (which felt nice) while his other hand shifted and he started stroking my jaw with that thumb (which arguably felt nicer).

He did this while he murmured, “See I got more work to do to get you out of that bad place.” His thumb at my jaw shifted further and he rubbed it across my lips before he dropped his head and did the same with his own lips. Once he’d done that, against mine, he stated, “But I’ll get to that later. That’s too heavy for now. And anyway, it’s time for number four.”

Number four?

Had he gone mad?

“Just to say, after arguing with you and all the rest, I’m really not in the mood for another orgasm,” I shared waspishly, saying words I never thought I’d ever say.

Especially about orgasms delivered by Noc.

He nipped my lower lip with his teeth.

I couldn’t stop it…

I shivered.

“Bullshit,” he whispered, his amusement in that one word abundantly clear.

“You do know you’re bloody annoying,” I declared. “And that part of you I do not cherish, Noctorno Hawthorne. That part of you I also did not miss. Not even slightly.”

That was all a lie. I missed every part of him. Including him being irksome.

“Mm,” he hummed against my lips, and, drat it all!

I shivered again.

“You don’t care that at times I find you annoying, do you?” I asked.

“Baby, you cherish me. Don’t give a fuck there’s some parts you don’t. That shit’s gonna happen.” He slid his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Just fuckin’ thrilled there are parts you do.”

“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.