Page 68 of Magdalene Nox

“I already did,” was her sole reply, and the streets of Chatham were all a blur, along with the hallways of their B&B, and even to a certain extent her own devouring of Sam.

She’d been determined to call the shots the moment they’d crossed the threshold, and she had, to her surprise, with Sam allowing her total control, total domination. And it blurred her vision at the corners, the hunger of months and months, years, lifetimes, returning tenfold and taking over her mind and her hands. Her lips.

Magdalene surfaced as Sam shook in her arms, half surprised to hear her own voice, still steady, if slightly hoarse, whispering nonsensical words of encouragement in the delicate ear, periodically peppering every inch of skin she could reach with little nips and kisses. She couldn’t stop touching, could not stop feeling. It was like waking up, like opening one’s eyes for the very first time.

One hand still covered the sensual, panting mouth, having kept Sam mostly quiet through what surely would have been screams of pleasure, and the fingers of the other continued to gently pump inside the heat and the wet of Sam which belonged only to her.

She wasn’t certain when she’d started thinking in those proprietary terms, but as Sam lifted limp arms to grasp her shoulders and slowly pulled her even closer, naked skin on silk blouse, and kissed her lazily—more a meeting of mouths than an actual kiss—Magdalene felt angry at every single person who had ever touched Sam. Who had looked at her and not seen the beauty, the astonishing strength and passion hiding in the depths of those wondrous eyes.

It was fine, though. It didn’t matter, because Sam was hers now, and she’d make damn certain she would never feel like anything but the most cherished woman in the world.

Sam seemed to have gone under yet again, and Magdalene held her up, still leaning against the wall, reveling in the opportunity to caress her face, to play with the disheveled strands of her hair that, in the dim light of the room, looked uncharacteristically dark.

Sam’s body didn’t stir, still comfortably ensconced in Magdalene’s arms, but she felt a smile against that sensitive spot on her neck and wanted to both squirm away and hold Sam’s face closer, to revel in the sensation of those lips on her skin, of that grin, warming her up from the inside, of that joy reflected in her own.

“What’s so funny?” Magdalene allowed herself to draw back just enough to glance at Sam’s face, which looked so happy, Magdalene’s heart squeezed in her chest. She was so in love and it felt amazing, this fullness, this warmth, this bliss.

“You have a thing for hair?” Sam finally straightened entirely and shucked off the jeans still clinging to her ankles, impeded by her Chucks. The expression on her face was unfathomable, then suddenly became questioning, calculating, and it was more than just Magdalene’s heart that squeezed.

With a sly smile, Magdalene ran her fingers through Sam’s blonde tresses, further disheveling them.

“I never did, but I can’t help it with you.” She looked at Sam for a long while before closing her eyes. It really irked her that this woman could so easily read her in moments like these, like an open book—which she had never, ever been in her life. Did she really want to be one now? And did she even have a choice?

She was tempted to shake her head, because no, there wasn’t a choice. Clothed or undressed, what she desired was to be fully naked in front of Sam, raw emotions, painful decades-old obsessions, spasming and bleeding wounds and all. And so she answered truthfully. “I can’t seem to help myself with a lot of things when it comes to you.”

As if sensing the gravity of the moment, Sam reached out gingerly, as though not to interrupt the revelation, and began unbuttoning Magdalene’s blouse.

“I told myself that I was going to only have one drink at the bar, and then I couldn’t help but take you up on that whiskey, only to be completely taken by you in your room. Later, I told myself that I could work side by side with you and not be swept up by your mind and your heart and those brilliant eyes and your goofy, endearing wit.”

Magdalene leaned in again and kissed her hard. She wanted to smirk, to triumph, Sam staring at her, flushed and blinking, clearly dumbfounded, that lower lip swollen and abused by Magdalene’s teeth. As signature moves went, Magdalene knew it was lethal, and Sam had been annihilated by it every single time. Granted, she—like the proverbial phoenix—burst into flames only to rise from the ashes, and Magdalene trembled in anticipation of that resurrection.

But for now, as the astute eyes watched her with a somewhat far away expression, Magdalene continued, the compulsion to keep sharing her heart and her mind, overwhelming her. “I told myself that you hate me and everything I stand for, and that you did not trust me. And then you go and defend me to Alden and to Orla and to pretty much anyone who dares to besmirch what is left of my professional virtue. And.. and… and… There is always an ‘and’ where you’re concerned, Sam. You are always going above and beyond… Sometimes underneath?”

Magdalene actually giggled at her own pun, and Sam’s face lost that far-away expression. Instead, actual tears sprang to her eyes, and Magdalene reached to wipe them away, only for Sam’s intentions and emotions to flip on a dime. Sam’s nimble fingers began to unfasten the tiny little buttons on Magdalene’s blouse at double speed. It was too much, she couldn’t take it. The time for conversation and confession was over, and she’d be damned if some piece of couture would stop her.

With a swift move, Magdalene grasped the two parts of fabric and tugged, rending them. Sam admired the lace of the bra for a moment, then gulped, throat working down and up, and Magdalene felt dizzy. Her body half exposed now, she had to express her final thought, had to give it voice, because she knew the tether of reason would soon snap. One second more and she’d beg.

“I can’t pretend I don’t want you, Sam. I keep telling myself all sorts of lies these days, but I can’t go on believing that one anymore.”

Magdalene held her breath as Sam ran her palms up and down the revealed expanse of her abdomen, making her shiver, tracing muscle before lowering her head and kissing where her fingers had been, slowly inching up to where lace did nothing to obscure Magdalene’s breasts that felt a hundred times more sensitive than ever before.

Sam simply took charge. It was a familiar rhythm, of being thrown overboard and battered by the waves until she was an exposed nerve, raw and shivering and indeed begging. And Sam hadn’t even touched her anywhere she truly wanted her to yet. Instead, she’d just watched, that gaze knowing, powerful, holding the mysteries of the universe in those ashen irises.

Magdalene closed her eyes as Sam leaned closer and exhaled a breath across her overheated skin, and she felt the nipple pebble at this sensation alone.

“You know how many times I touched myself, imagining my mouth on these?” Magdalene’s breath caught, and it was her turn to throw her head back with a loud, tortured moan.

“Saaaam…”

Visibly encouraged by the reaction, Sam went on. “Do you know that I couldn’t get enough of fantasizing about how responsive your breasts are? How I was absolutely sure that I could make you come just by licking and biting and sucking on them…” Magdalene’s entire body vibrated, and Sam hadn’t even touched the tightly furled buds now straining towards her mouth, still encased in the tatters of ivory.

Oh yes, raw and shivering and begging…

“Please…” The word seemed to unlock something in Sam, and she took the nipple closest to her between her lips, sucking at it, teasing it against the now wet lace, the scrape of which only heightened Magdalene’s response.

Half out of her mind with lust, Magdalene moved with desperation against that mouth, nails raking Sam’s back, surely leaving marks. Switching breasts, Sam finally relented and tore at the remnants of the bra, careless with the delicate lace that she’d admired only moments ago.

Magdalene wanted to laugh, and she would have if she had enough breath for it. Because as the ivory impeded her access to Magdalene’s skin, Sam actually growled, and it became blatantly obvious her hunger could no longer be contained, that it had shaken off what was left of its confines.

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