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The air in the shop was still thick with heat—sex, candle wax, and the copper tang of magic. Corven was barely done tucking in his shirt and wiping sweat from his brow when the bell above the door chimed again, its echo overlapping the last shudders of pleasure in his bones.
He glanced at the shelves. The spot where the ruby pendant had shimmered moments before now held only a faint, wavering glow, as if a memory lingered in the air—a curl of red mist dissolving into nothing. The magic was greedy and quick; the item was gone, taken by the first woman who'd left with trembling legs and a satisfied smile.
Now, the new arrival stepped through the door—a noblewoman in a crimson cloak lined with fox fur. She paused, letting her sharp gaze sweep the candlelit room. Her eyes lingered on that empty spot on the shelf, nostrils flaring as if she could taste the phantom scent of sweat and jasmine still haunting the air.
Corven straightened the ledgers, composing himself as she drew back her hood. Gold hair spilled over her shoulders, glinting in the flickering candlelight. Her lips were painted a lush, dark red; her eyes were bold, set beneath perfect brows, glimmering with pride and intent.
"I see I'm not your first guest tonight," she said, her voice low and amused, gaze drifting to the place where magic still whispered.
Corven managed a wry smile. "The shop never sleeps, milady. Nor do its debts."
She arched a brow, slipping her cloak from her shoulders with practiced grace. Underneath, she wore a gown of black silk, cut daringly low and slit high enough to bare a sculpted thigh. A thin gold chain circled her neck, a single red gem resting in the hollow above her heart. Her perfume—expensive, heady, tinged with wine and wild roses—curled through the air.
She approached the counter, running one gloved finger along the polished wood. "They say anything can be bought at Midnight Curiosities," she murmured. "But the currency is always pleasure. Is that true, Shopkeeper?"
Corven kept his hands on the ledger. "Only those willing to pay ever find out."
She regarded him coolly, then slid her glove off, finger by finger, and laid it on the counter. "I want something… personal. There's a man I desire. A rival who's stolen his attention from me." Her eyes, hungry and unyielding, met his. "Give me a spell to turn his obsession back to me—and ruin my rival's hold on him."
He opened the ledger. As before, red script spilled across the page, the shop's judgment undeniable:
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[Desire: Rival's Bond Broken. Obsession Reforged.]
[Price: Full Surrender. All control ceded until the bell at sunrise.]
---
She studied the glowing words, a muscle twitching in her cheek, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled—a tight, determined smile. "Then take control, Shopkeeper. I am yours until dawn."
Corven circled the counter, the candlelight flickering over his face and hers. He took her by the waist, feeling the tension in her body, the way pride warred with need. "Remove your cloak," he instructed, voice steady.
She did, letting it fall behind her in a pool of velvet and fur. He brushed her hair from her shoulder, fingertips grazing her throat. Her pulse was quick beneath his touch, but she didn't look away.
He pressed close, lips at her ear. "Tonight, you surrender everything to me. No hesitation, no resistance."
"Yes," she whispered, breath shaky. "I want to feel what it's like to lose all control."
He pulled her dress higher, silk sliding against her thighs, baring her skin to the candlelit air. He kissed the back of her neck, then nipped her shoulder, teeth grazing delicate flesh. She shivered, her body already yielding. Her panties were a wisp of lace, already damp—he slid them down, letting them fall to her ankles. He trailed his hands up her thighs, spreading her legs wider.
"Don't move," he commanded.
She obeyed, head bowed, hair spilling over her face. He teased her folds, brushing over her clit, making her whimper softly. Then he dipped his fingers inside her—one, then two—feeling her slick, hot, fluttering with anticipation.
He withdrew his hand, and, still clothed, pressed himself against her ass, letting her feel the length of him growing hard. He leaned in, breathing her scent—perfume, sweat, and raw desire.
"Do you want more?" he asked, voice deep and commanding.
"Yes, please," she moaned, grinding back against him.
He gripped her hips and thrust into her with one smooth stroke. She gasped, hands clenching the counter. He took his time, moving slow at first, then building to a rhythm that filled the room with the slap of flesh and her desperate moans.
He bent low, mouth at her ear again. "You don't get to finish until I say. Tonight, you're nothing but my pleasure."
She sobbed, both from humiliation and the thrill of being used. He fucked her harder, driving her forward with every thrust, feeling her tighten and tremble—but when she was close, he pulled out, leaving her empty and aching.
"Not yet," he growled.
He turned her to face him, lifting her onto the counter, parting her thighs wide. He knelt, mouth finding her clit, licking slow, relentless circles until her hips bucked helplessly. He teased her, dipping his tongue inside, then sucking her until she was begging, fingers tangled in his hair, thighs squeezing tight.
She writhed, lost in sensation, but every time she neared the edge, he slowed, denying her. When her pleas turned desperate, he stood, gripped her thighs, and drove into her again—deep and punishing. Her head fell back, lips parted, cries echoing in the candlelit gloom.
They changed positions again and again through the night—the shop's magic pulsing, keeping their bodies burning, never tiring. He bent her over the shelves, made her ride him astride the high stool, pinned her wrists above her head as he took her from behind. He licked sweat from her skin, marked her throat with bites, left bruises on her hips and handprints on her ass. Every time she got close, he would slow, edge her, make her beg.
She begged. Over and over. "Please—please—let me come—"
He laughed, dark and low, savoring her surrender. "Not yet. You're mine until the bell. You'll remember this night for the rest of your life."
He dragged her to the rug before the fire, spreading her legs wide, sliding two fingers inside her, stroking her g-spot until she was sobbing, incoherent with need. He pushed her onto all fours, spanking her hard, making her gasp and yelp. He bent down, whispering filth in her ear as he fucked her harder, feeling her lose all composure.
Time slipped by—candles burned low, sweat and pleasure-slick bodies tangled in every shadow. Her hair turned wild, makeup smudged, voice gone hoarse from screaming his name. She clawed at his chest, left scratches on his back, begged for more, for mercy, for release.
He denied her every time, using her, worshiping her, humiliating her, exalting her—always in control. The ledger glowed in the dark, each new position, each denied climax, each command recorded in crimson script.
As the first gray light of dawn crept through the grimy window, Corven finally let her finish. He pinned her to the counter, thrusting deep, rough, relentless. Her whole body seized, a climax so powerful she sobbed and screamed, collapsing as wave after wave rolled through her. Only then did he allow himself to finish—burying himself deep inside, groaning with release, his pleasure mingling with hers.
They lay together for long minutes, tangled and shuddering, breathless, bodies glowing with the aftermath. The shop was silent except for their ragged breathing and the slow, steady thrum of magic in the air.
Finally, he rose, helped her to her feet, and wrapped her in her cloak, hands gentle now. Her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen from kisses and cries.
On the shelf, a silver locket spun slowly into being—pulsing with the memory of her surrender. As she lifted it free, the ledger's page flared to life:
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[Desire Fulfilled: Rival's Bond Broken. Obsession Reforged.]
[Payment Rendered: Full Surrender. All control ceded until the bell at sunrise.]
[Artifact Created: Locket of Obsession's Return.]
[Effect: The wearer's heart will draw obsession and longing; a rival's hold is broken, but all passions have a price.]
---
The locket's magic pulsed with a promise—her rival forgotten, her own desires kindled anew.
Corven smiled, brushing her cheek. "Come back anytime. The shop will remember you."
She kissed him, soft and grateful, and slipped out into the morning fog just as the bell above the door gave one long, final chime.
Corven watched her disappear into the lightening street, then turned back inside and closed the door. He drew the curtains, snuffed the candles, and gathered the ledgers, the magic in the shop humming contentedly with satisfaction and secrets.
With the city waking beyond the walls, Corven locked the door and hung the CLOSED sign for the day. His body was exhausted, but his mind buzzed with anticipation for the next night, the next bargain, the next soul willing to pay the shop's price.
As sunlight crept across the floor, the last echo of midnight pleasure faded into morning silence.
Midnight Curiosities would slumber until darkness fell again.
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