Page 23 of The Heart of Midnight

He falters and slams deep, pinning me to the bed as he cusses under his breath. I can feel his cock pulsing inside of me as he lets go, and the way he sounds... he can change his speaking voice all he wants, but you can’t change the way you moan in the middle of an orgasm.

He. Is. My. Midnight.

I no longer have to feel like I’m cheating on them both, or may one day have to choose because they’re both Scarcello Solis. And he is mine. “Fucking kiss me,” I plead, melting when his lips meet mine without argument.

This is what I was always missing with Midnight.

Emotions swell in my chest when I let myself believe it, when I truly accept that I can have the best of both worlds and I’ll never need anyone else. “Mine,” I breathe against his lips. “My Midnight.”

I need him to know I know, and he needs to admit it or I’ll always fear he’ll disappear.

“I still don’t know what that means,” he chuckles, slipping out of me and rolling on the bed next to me. “What do you say we go to my place? I think we should shower and then I’ve got some steaks I’d love to cook you.”

“Yeah?” He’s trying to distract me with food, and although it’s working, I know I’m not done pushing. I’ll get him to admit it before the night is through. “Can I sleep over?”

He glances over and studies my face, then nods. “I’d love that. It would be nice not to have to worry about your safety tonight.”

And to finally sleep next to each other for the first time. “So romantic,” I joke, chuckling as I sit up and feel his cum drip out of me.

“You don’t think it’s romantic that I want to protect you?” he asks. “That I stay awake at night watching your cameras to make sure you’re okay?”

My smile fades as I picture it, because as much as I wanted to believe he cared that much, hearing it has my eyes stinging and emotions swelling inside me. “You have?”

“Yeah, I mean... you said a fucking serial killer looked right at you.”

I reach out to stroke his handsome face before leaning in to kiss him. “Thank you. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just put your pants back on so I can carry you back to my place and take care of you,” he mumbles, kissing me three more times before letting me go.

It takes me a few moments to wipe off and get dressed, grabbing a fresh pair of panties to toss on after our shower, and then I jump into his arms. “Let’s go.”

He kisses me deeply like he can’t get enough and then carries me through the house, turning off lights as he goes. Something about the way he holds me with one arm as he locks my frontdoor behind us makes me wet all over again, but my stomach growls to remind me I really am hungry.

As he walks from my house to his, I wonder if the neighbors can see him carrying me like a baby.

I hide my smile in his neck at the thought and flick my tongue up his skin. “I don’t think I’ve been in your house since the week I moved in and had to borrow sugar.”

“No? It’s boring over here. You’ll see.” He shifts me again to unlock his door and carry me in, and the house looks exactly the same as I remember it. It’s all dull greys and cold marble, and the couch looks like it’s fresh out of the factory. If he ever hangs out and watches television, it isn’t in here. The living space is too immaculate, telling me he definitely spends his time in another part of the house. Maybe it’s his bedroom?

“Such a bachelor pad,” I tease, looking back at his face and noticing the change in his expression.

Gone is lighthearted, sated Scar. He looks mad, scared, and he’s still not putting me down.

“What’s wrong?” I move to slip from his arms only for him to grip me tighter — almost too tight. “Scarcello?”

“We’re just going downstairs, baby. Hang on.”

His voice is low and clipped, more like Midnight now than Scar’s softer tone. Apprehension climbs up my spine as he takes me to the back of the house and opens a door I didn’t see last time, somehow expertly carrying me down steep stairs without a single light on.

I thought it was his bedroom, but with how he’s navigating his way down, I think this is where he truly spends his time. “What’s down here?” I ask warily. “I thought we were going to eat.”

“I’ll cook for you, baby. Don’t worry. I’m just more comfortable down here.”

We hit the bottom and he moves around something large, then drops me down on something that feels a lot like a bed. Maybe thisishis bedroom? I can’t see much since the only light is coming from a few computer monitors across the room, yet it doesn’t take light to realize my mistake when Scar starts binding my hands to the headboard.

“W-What are you doing?” I tug my hand away and frown up at him even though he probably can’t see me.

It feels all too familiar when he climbs on top of me to pin me down and finishes what he started. My legs are free, but I can’t move my arms at all.

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