5. Lucy #2
That’s not weird, maybe I take back my previous comments. We dress, she hauls herself out of the pit and lends a palm to pull me up.
I squint through the trees to see the dance floor thinning, the rave dying.
That eau du awkward found after a one-night stand orgasm fills the air around us.
“Well, this was great,” I start.
“Don’t be like that, let me take you home.”
She leads me through the graveyard in silence, throwing scant glances back at me. But neither of us find any words to share until we reach the parking lot and she stops at a motorbike.
Oh, hell no.
“I don’t think so,” I say, edging away from the sleek black machine.
She glances around, looking for a carriage or some other method for me to get home, I assume.
There are none.
At this point, I’ll be walking into town to catch a carriage.
“It’s late. All the carriages are gone…”
She hands me her helmet, and I hold it by the chin straps like the heinous contraption it is.
“Put it on,” she demands.
“I, umm. I don’t…”
“Demon’s sake.” She plucks the helmet from my hand and examines me. I find myself lost in her expression, the careful attention she pays to pushing my hair away from my face and adjusting the straps just so.
Her fingers caress my skin. It’s weirdly comforting, and I find myself leaning into her palm.
She catches herself and pulls away, bringing the helmet to the top of my head and sliding it on.
It’s snug and muffles my hearing. My lungs tighten so much I have to force myself to breathe slower.
“I don’t like it. It’s suffocating,” I say.
“You’ll get used to it. It’s like a hug for your head. Do you have a tie? You’ll want to put your hair up, otherwise it will be a tangled mess.”
I plait the end of my hair and tuck it down the back of my jacket.
“I’ll help you on,” she says and places her hands on my hips. Those firm, assured fingers press into me. Gods, I feel them all the way through my jeans down to my bones.
“Slide your leg over this,” she says.
I glare at her through the visor, but do as I’m told.
“Good girl.” She winks at me, so I slap her on the arm. “Where to?”
“Finis Academy.”
Her eyes widen, her brow furrows, but she stays silent as she climbs onto the bike.
She flicks the kickstand up and cranks the engine, then revs the bike hard, making me squeal.
She laughs and shouts over the noise. “You’ll want to hold on.”
“To what?” I shriek.
“That depends if you want another orgasm or not…”
Even as she turns to push the bike off, I can sense her grin all the way through the tension in her muscles as I slide my hands around her waist.
I grip hold of Midnight like my life depends on it as she swings around the city streets.
Our bodies move in sync after a few minutes, bending this way and then that.
She gets so low to the road that I scream multiple times.
I don’t know if it’s the bike rumbling between my thighs, the hard plains of Midnight’s body, or the orgasm from earlier, but when we finally pull up to the mist-shrouded campus, I am hot, my heart pounding like galloping hooves and, I can’t lie, I am soaking wet—again.
Midnight pulls off my helmet and grins. “Wasn’t that bad was it…” she says.
My traitorous lips twitch.
She brushes her mouth against my ear. My stomach somersaults—yet another traitorous part of me.
“I think you want me to kiss you,” she says, and her words are drugs. Like the silk tension of an infernal contract. It’s enough to make me wonder if she’s the demon and I’m the mortal.
Is it her words?
Her tone?
Or just the wanton need coursing through my body, and the fact I wouldn’t mind calling her Daddy again.
I never do this.
Never take risks or throw caution to the wind. I’m sensible, deliberate.
I pay attention.
Her hot mouth brushes over my throat and short circuits every thought I had.
Fuck.
“We shouldn’t?—”
But she cuts me off, plunging her lips over mine.
I moan into her kiss. Into the soft caress of her tongue kneading mine.
My body melts so fast, she grabs me by the waist and hoiks me back up onto the bike seat.
I briefly worry that it will fall over, but she kisses my neck, my collarbone, and my mind is lost to the sensation.
My head lolls, baring my throat to her as her tongue slides over my pulse.
There’s a beat, the whip of wind against my cheeks and a sweep of clarity—I can use this situation. Make an arrangement, use each other for relief.
But we can’t. This was a one-off. I have a life, I’m stuck on campus most of the time, and she is young.
Way too young for this to be anything. And that’s without the fact she’s a danger to me.
Demons are forbidden from becoming emotionally involved with mortals because of the damage it does to our power.
It’s not like humans mean to. But their souls attract our magic, suck it out of our crystalline hearts and leave us vulnerable.
So, no. This must be a one-off.
I lean down, finding her lips and crushing mine to hers. My hands are all over her, waist, hips, breasts, arse…
Midnight curls her hand around my braid and uses it to tug me where she wants me. I wrap my legs around her waist.
She licks and bites her way over every inch of exposed skin. I grip her chin and crush my mouth to hers.
I kiss her hard.
I kiss her thank you.
I kiss her goodbye.
This could have been something wonderful, but it wasn’t meant to be.
It’s not our fate.
I pull myself away and walk towards Obidiah, our gate gargoyle. He scowls at me, but I wink at him, and the gates swing open.
I won’t lie—it hurt not to look back, but what’s the point? We were doomed the minute I said I was a demon.