Page 67 of Magdalene Nox

And the trust, earned, tested, quenched like metal in oil by Alden’s visit, by weeks of orbiting and resisting each other, that trust magnified everything. In sharp relief, her own feelings and wants, needs, her own hunger, stood apart from her, as if another person in this room, demanding to be satisfied, demanding to be heard, to be given its due.

She should have run away while she still could, because her time was up. They were face to face, front to front, breathing rapidly, their proximity sparkling with electricity, andthisspark, Magdalene knew, had enough voltage to hurt them both. To singe them forever, because the sheer strength of their connection was such as to make this a once-in-a-lifetime bond.

Magdalene gulped. No, there was no dislodging the thought and the realization, because she simply knew. If this went sideways, if this did not work out, if it ended in betrayal, they would never recover, they would never be whole again.

She closed her eyes for a second, but her thoughts scattered, leaving her vulnerable, exposed, and entirely honest in her rawness.

Nothing to hold back…

Their breaths mingled, Sam’s lily-of-the-valley scent, the subtle aroma of it, wrapped itself around Magdalene’s mind, making it further impossible to begin to contemplate moving, unless it was in one direction only… She inhaled deeply, like a diver right at breaking the water’s surface before plunging to either death or glory, and brought their mouths together in a bruising kiss that indeed didn’t hold anything back.

There was no pretense anymore. None. Even if she had wanted to hide something, to conceal a corner of her soul, this woman had never given her a foothold to do so, anyway. She had always taken everything, wrung her dry, and thrown her on the shore, an empty husk of total bliss.

And so Sam was once again true to herself. Hands delved into Magdalene’s hair just as her own fingers tugged and raked, the simple elastic holding up Sam’s ponytail no match for her sheer determination to feel that honeyed silk.

When their tongues touched, Sam whimpered. Magdalene gentled her ardor, sucking tenderly, yet somehow knowing this one move turned the heat up tenfold. Sam’s unrestricted pleasure at the gesture seemed to only ignite her further, and Magdalene tipped up Sam’s chin, exposing her neck, and biting with enough enthusiasm, oblivious, no, determined to leave a mark. The thought of Sam walking around the school sporting it as a brand, exciting her, making her achingly wet, making her want to climb out of her skin and lose herself in Sam. She bit again, then her tongue followed, soothing the spot, but judging by Sam’s response—those hips that did not stop moving and grinding into her own—only managed to inflame further.

Still, her being in control was short-lived, and she reveled in Sam wrestling it back, hands abandoning Magdalene’s hair and traveling downward, seeking purchase on her hips before moving lower still. Fingers dragged up her thighs, raising her skirt up, inch by inch, exposing her stocking and garters and the lace and silk of her lingerie, and suddenly the look on Sam’s face was almost absurdly comical in its stupor. Great gulps of air coming in short puffs, pupils blown, Sam blinked at her.

“Please don’t tell me you walk around the school like this… I may never be able to function again.” Magdalene chuckled but almost choked on it as Sam dropped to her knees and looked up at her with such hunger, all previous traces of surprise wiped away by need and total command of the situation. Hell, ofher.

At the simple sight of having Sam at her feet, she moaned, and it was Sam’s turn to laugh. Very slowly, as if determined to ruin Magdalene once and forever, Sam hiked the skirt a few inches higher, her single-minded determination only making Magdalene grow weaker and more desperate, and fully exposed a barely there lacy thong. Magdalene knew the lace had to be wet, bearing witness to the state this woman had gotten her into with just a few kisses.

God help me…

Clearly mesmerized by the wet silk and lace, Sam leaned forward and Magdalene forced herself not to close her eyes, wanting to see the sinful mouth connect with her overheated skin—

The knock on the door just a couple of feet away made both of them jump, then freeze.

“Sam? Are you home? Is Magdalene with you?” George’s muffled voice had the effect of a cold shower. Magdalene let her head fall against the wall behind her, trying to get her breathing under control. Sam, still on her knees, lowered her forehead onto one of Magdalene’s stocking-clad thighs, and she dropped her hands to cradle her there, heart fluttering in her chest like a caged bird devoid of an escape route. She ran her fingers through the tangled silky locks until George stopped knocking and her receding steps could be heard departing the hallway in front of Sam’s apartment.

When the silence was absolute, Magdalene took a deep breath and carefully tugged on Sam’s hand, pulling her from her knees. She looked at the shadowed face, so full of longing, and despite wanting to say so many things, stepped aside and proceeded to set her skirt to rights. Sam did not budge, her own attire requiring no repairs.

But the distress on Sam’s face was so raw, so open, and Magdalene’s cup ran over. She took a few steps back and was once again face to face with all that naked misery. Only this time, unable to withstand it, she was compelled to act. Magdalene leaned in gently and placed a kiss on Sam’s cheek, hoping it would express everything her heart and her mind had no words to convey. Not now, not when she could feel herself breaking through the shell she’d built around her innermost self for decades.

Too vulnerable, too open.She retracted her earlier step forward, then beckoned Willoughby with a now customary gesture that he recognized very well. One snap of her fingers and he meowed in compliance, falling in step with her as they vacated the room filled with everything Magdalene wanted. In fact, she was certain she had never desired anything more than the lone figure standing in the doorway watching her go.

Deep breaths were supposed to calm her down, and Magdalene took some, tentative as they were, but as she pushed open the door to her own apartment, she knew not much would steady her anymore. Hope and some careful planning were in order.

18

OF MAINLAND RECONNECTIONS & NEEDED CONFESSIONS

She got to see both her hopes and her plans realized, after all. The ferry, the endless interviews with law enforcement, the dinner. And above all, that red line anchored in both their chests, on their fourth ribs, right above their hearts, was now taut as a bowstring. There would have been no escaping it, even if she hadn’t actively maneuvered their entire day to lead to this very moment. Because Sam was equally as resolute, even if less consistent, in her own planning. She was a doer, and damn the torpedoes. She just blew past doors and walls and carefully laid plans. Thank God theirs were so perfectly aligned.

“Sam… Sam… Sam… What am I going to do with you?”

Knuckle deep inside a trembling Sam—trembling so hard, in fact, Magdalene thought her lover would come apart at the seams—that question she had posed earlier, half-jokingly, at the mainland diner where they’d spent their evening with the girls, was surely absurd.

When they’d taken the ferry from Dragons to Chatham, as they waited for the students to give their testimony to Sheriff Green and his deputies, and while they ate burgers and salad, sitting on red Americana faux-leather seats, Magdalene had known the answer to this question.

Now that they’d both made their plans and their choices, and Sam’s walls were clenching around her thrusting fingers, Magdalene thought back to the very few words they’d exchanged on shore. Specifically how, despite her walking out of Sam’s room the night before, despite her leaving both of them wanting and hungry, each of them had known they’d end up exactly here. Against a door, in the cozy bed-and-breakfast, trying to keep a modicum of quiet and desperate to devour one another.

Yes, it had been Magdalene’s fingers that trembled only an hour ago when Sam boldly insisted she make a choice. And yes, she’d had to look into those gray eyes, seeing how deadly serious they were, and will her hand to steady as she placed it in Sam’s warm, sure one.

And when Sam demanded express consent, always so mindful of it, her “Now say yes…,” did something illegal to Magdalene’s insides.

Was there ever anything more sensual than the way Sam did not even phrase it as a question? It was a statement. One of profound intent, one that demanded an equally powerful answer. And, despite the earlier wobble of trembling hands, Magdalene’s voice did not waver.

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