29. Midnight #2
I pull my hand back and slap her arse, forcing her to ride my face faster. She pushes down, taking pleasure from me, milking my tongue for everything she desires. Her fingers move quicker and quicker over my clit. I’m so close.
She sits heavier on my face. I can’t breathe anymore. She rocks faster, her fingers moving in time with her hips.
She is everywhere.
Electricity coils in my clit. Bolts of pleasure radiate through me. My lungs burn, my vision dims, but still I lick faster. Both our bodies tighten.
Lucy’s thrusts grow jerky.
“M—Midnight, I’m going to—” she moans but cuts herself off as she cries out and bears down on my mouth, coming on my tongue.
The way her body arches, her head falling back, her breasts tight, pushes me over the edge. She flicks her wrist and I explode.
My vision flashes from black to white as her pussy lifts off my face and oxygen and orgasm fill my body in equal measure.
“Fuck,” I pant, as I come back to earth, my breathing still ragged.
We lie entwined in each other, just breathing, our skin sticky and warm. Eventually, she rolls so we’re facing each other.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I brush stray strands of hair away from her face. “We don’t have to do this…”
“Of course we do,” she says and smiles softly. Her eyes pull away from mine, grazing over my lips, my neck, and resting on my collarbone as if the answers lie in the grooves.
She’s right, of course. We can’t carry on ignoring the fact we haven’t talked about what’s happened.
“I—” I start. But she presses her index finger to my lips and shakes her head.
“We’ve both done bad things. Made terrible decisions. I just pray that it’s not too late, that the damage we’ve done isn’t fatal.”
My teeth clash together. Is that what she thinks? That there’s no salvaging us and after she just fucked me, she’s going to walk away? My body stiffens in her grip.
Her expression softens. “I should never have made you reap me. I’m so sorry. I know I forced your hand, forced you to your knees unwillingly. I made you destroy the one thing you loved.”
My eyes are suddenly hot. They sting and everything gets real blurry real quick.
“You made me kill you.”
“I know, and even though it was the only way to free myself, I still recognise that it wasn’t me paying that price…”
“It was me,” I breathe.
She nods. A wave of relief washes through my body.
I needed to hear her accept responsibility for what she did to me.
To own the pain she caused. A whimper escapes my mouth.
She lowers my head into her chest and I rest there, my eyes all hot and stingy as she whispers how sorry she is, over and over again.
Each time she says it, my body relaxes a little more. The weight of the rage and resentment I’d been carrying lifting.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why couldn’t you trust me to go through with it?”
She pulls away, clutching my face in her hands. “Can you honestly tell me that you’d have killed me? Me… Midnight. Not reaping some random stranger, me…”
My eyes slide away from hers. “I don’t know. I could have tried.”
She shakes her head at me. “You begged me not to make you. You couldn’t have done it and I think deep down, you know that.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek because I don’t want to admit that she’s right. I want to believe I could have done it. But when I look back, the only thing I’ve ever been willing to give up is myself.
Over and over I would sacrifice myself for others.
Slowly I nod. What she’s saying is true and right, and I think, maybe while I’m not quite ready to accept what she did to me, I do understand it at least.
“It doesn’t make what I did right. I know how deeply I hurt you,” she says and places a kiss on my forehead.
That sentence lingers like there are things left unsaid, and that’s when I realise there are.
“You’d do it again, wouldn’t you? You don’t regret the choice you made, just the consequences it had?” I say.
Her expression falls. Two giant tears roll over her lids and plummet down her cheeks.
“Yes,” she whispers and a string of sobs follow her confession.
“Does that change things between us? Can you still love me knowing that I’d choose to make you fall to your knees and sacrifice me again if I had to? ”
Does it?
It feels like she just stabbed me between my ribs. And yet, I think it’s the most honest conversation we’ve had.
“If I said it didn’t hurt, I’d be lying. But I did the same thing to you. I agreed to give you to Ignatius in exchange for my freedom because I was cross with you. I’d be a hypocrite to stop loving you.”
She sags against me. “Gods, I thought I’d lost you.”
I stroke her head as she nuzzles against my chest.
“Lucy…”
“Yeah?” she breathes.
“I’m so sorry. I should never have agreed to help Ignatius. It was the most selfish thing I think I’ve ever done.”
“And yet I understand completely. When I made you kill me, gods, you must have thought I’d never loved you, that I was using you all along.”
I press my lips together, exhausted from the conversation. Exhausted in general. My body aches. I am weary beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.
Lucy must sense that, because she leans over the bed and fiddles with my trousers, there’s the rushing sound of leather being pulled and then the clank of a metal belt buckle.
When she reappears, my mouth hangs open.
She’s looped the belt around her neck. Her hips wriggle and she slides onto the floor into the Nadu position, only instead of looking at the floor and waiting like the good little sub she is, she’s holding the belt strap up to me.
“I think I know the perfect way to apologise to each other.”
I grin and take the strap.