Fantasyland: Midnight Soul Part 62

He opened my door as I unleashed myself from the seat and he took my hand, a.s.sisting 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 b.i.t.c.hes 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 s.p.a.ce, 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 s.p.a.ce."

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 s.p.a.ce 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 furnis.h.i.+ngs and decor.

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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s 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 s.e.x, or both s.e.xes, 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 a.s.suage my curiosity and, I'm guessing, yours."

He grinned. "Crystal ball."

I understood his amus.e.m.e.nt 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 gla.s.s.

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 gla.s.s slowly, took a sip just as slowly, and removed the gla.s.s from my lips at my leisure, all this staring into his eyes and watching them heat as I did so.

When the gla.s.s 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, wis.h.i.+ng 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.

G.o.ds, 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s joined his on the counter.

My a.r.s.e also joined the gla.s.ses on the counter when Noc suddenly yanked up my skirt, lifted me and planted me there, pus.h.i.+ng 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.