Midnight End

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I lifted her up against me, delighting in the way she wrapped her toned legs around my waist. With her arms around my neck, I walked us to an area clear of plants and lowered her to the ground. She shoved off her backpack and laid back on the cool dirt. “Knight,” she said uneasily. “We don’t have any protection. I want to charge your magic, but I’m not willing to risk a pregnancy.” I settled my weight above her, lowering my face to within inches of hers. “Oh, no. I’m not going to give you my c**k until you beg for it—until you moan and writhe and ache for it. This right here is just a temporary fix, a taste of what’s to come. You and I both know that’s where this is headed, whether we like it or not.” Her blue eyes widened, but she didn’t argue. The caveman in me beat his chest wildly at her submission. Raising up on my knees, I pulled her shirt over her head, then did the same with my own. Before Morgan could lay back down, I placed her shirt behind her and wrapped mine around her face to cover her eyes. Her hands flew up to remove the obstruction, but I grasped them firmly before they could get too far. “Hands down, Morgan,” I warned her. “Knight, I can’t. I need to be able to see—we’re out in the middle of a Faery forest,” she argued. I lifted the shirt and held her cerulean gaze. “You don’t need to see. You just need to feel. I won’t let anything hurt you, but you have to trust me. I know that doesn’t come easily to you. Just try.” Her breath caught, and her pulse pounded at the base of her neck. She licked her full lips as her eyes flitted about. With a hesitant nod, she slowly reclined back onto the ground. “Good girl,” I hummed as I resumed securing the shirt to restrict her vision. “Now, it’s time to eat.” OceanofPDF.com 10 Never in my life had I let a man blindfold me. Closing off my senses, handing over that kind of control—I would have laughed in the face of anyone who had suggested it. Knight was becoming the exception to many of my rules. Any kind of intimacy with him had initially been off the table, considering we stood on opposite sides of an electrified fence. I wanted to kill his precious queen. He wanted to keep me locked in a glorified prison. Neither of us had any business getting into bed with the other. And yet that logic suddenly bore little weight. I wanted to believe my change of heart had been a product of logic. If Knight had use of his magic, he could help keep me alive. It made sense— nice, neat, and logical, which was the validation I had presented to Knight. Had that been the case, I simply could have brought myself to orgasm and allowed him to feed. There was no requirement two people had to touch one another in order to feed. It could be done in an almost clinical setting— in theory. Unfortunately, logic was not the sole basis for my decision. After almost being killed, I wanted to feel alive. The unsettling part was the fact I wanted Knight to be the one to breathe me back to life. Something about him spoke to me on a primitive level. If he ordered me to jump, my usual hesitations didn’t kick in—I simply asked how high. He slipped under my skin, trampled my walls, and made himself comfy in the blackest part of my heart. I should have evicted him. I should have been petulant and refused to cooperate at every turn, then rebuilt my walls and rallied my defenses. There were so many things I should have done differently, but I was tired of doing what I should. As long as I still accomplished my mission, was I not allowed to do what I wanted every now and again? The moment I made the offer to fuel his magic and his eyes went molten gold, there was no going back. Knowing I could bring that hungry look to his face was a heady rush I wanted to experience over and over again. I didn’t want my release to be a product of my own doing. I needed to feel Knight’s touch, needed to see his eyes dilate as his arousal coursed through his veins. That was the other reason I wasn’t crazy about the blindfold. I wanted to see every curve of his flexing muscles and every heated gleam in his eyes as he moved above me. That way, when this was all over and we went our separate ways, I could replay each delectable moment in my mind. The fact that I wanted to hang onto those memories was a dangerous sign—one I was evidently going to ignore. Before I laid back down, Knight had spread out my shirt beneath me so that my back wasn’t flush on the dirt and rocks. As the coolness from the ground seeped into my back, I waited in breathless anticipation of what Knight would do first. Without warning, feather-light fingers grazed along the outside of my breasts, over my ribs, and down my belly to the button on my pants. His searing touch had me arching off the ground and made my breaths come in shallow pants. “Morgan, you need to hold still,” he cooed as he glided one finger back and forth, just inside the waist of my pants. “Do I need to tie you down as well?” I shook my head and tried to be still, but my chest heaved as I struggled to get enough oxygen to my racing heart. As I slowly regained control of my faculties, Knight unclasped my pants. With his fingers hooked into my underwear on each hip, he glided my clothing down my legs and off my body. “This is a lovely patch of strawberry hair you have,” he mused as his hand slid back up my leg and toward my sensitive core. “I take it this is your natural color?” “Yes. My mother and I had … have the same hair color. The older I got, the more I resembled her, so I started to bleach my hair.” I had hated seeing her image in the mirror every day, being reminded of all I had lost.