Souls Out of Time

by Chris Lange

  His steady gaze fixed on her fingers, nostrils flaring, jaw tensed, he seemed to have found paradise on earth. Then he met her eyes and pronounced the words she wanted him to say so badly. “Suck me.”

  Oh, baby, aren’t you in for a treat?

  He uttered a harsh sound as soon as her tongue touched his dick. Acutely aware of his eyes on her, she drew a circle around his crown, then another, then another. Moistening, wetting, she let her tongue dawdle all over his long hard shaft before coming back up to go round the tip.

  His thigh muscles twitched in front of her and she knew she had him totally under the yoke of her erotic tonguing.

  He balled his fingers into a fist. His rapid intakes of breaths the only sound in the room, she took his crown in her mouth to lick it the same way she’d suckled the banana. Her sensual move extracted a deep moan from him, and his blatant pleasure sent a rush of desire through her belly.

  She gobbled him up, inch by inch. Her lips glided easily on his already wet cock when she encased it in the hot, vibrant sheath her mouth had become. All the time in the world at her disposal, she pulled away, enjoying the feel of his skin, the moving sensation of his pulsating sex.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” he croaked.

  She’d never be able to offer him such a unique gift again, and she so needed to make the most of it. She wanted this first time for him to be branded in his memory for the rest of his life. On an instinctive level, she also sensed her unhurried arousal excited him to the point where he’d soon explode.

  As she engulfed him for the third time, his moans turned into harsh panting. His pulsating stomach, quivering legs, and the sight of his frenzied hands clenching and unclenching touched her beyond words.

  Her lips tightly embracing his throbbing erection, she withdrew one more time with agonizing slowness.

  “Goodness gracious!”

  His fierce cry penetrated her heart, pierced her belly, and accelerated her breathing. As much as she desired to keep blowing him, she wouldn’t be able to stall him much longer. He was way too far gone for that.

  But when she made as if to devour him again, he touched her shoulders. “No, Tracy.”

  She knew why. Getting a blowjob was enough of a shock to him, but bursting out in a woman’s mouth must feel like the last outrage, the final affront severing his lifelong bond to virtuous morality.

  She raised her head and saw the confirmation of her suspicions in his fevered eyes, in the unrestrained tension of his ecstatic features. Oh, no, she really didn’t have to ask, she already knew why.

  “Why?” she asked anyway.

  “Because—”

  She swallowed him whole. His stiff dick banging all the way in, she worked her tongue around as she quickly drew back her firm lips to suck him dry. He cried out and dug both his hands deep into her hair.

  He held on to her thick mane to keep his balance, his vibrant and wild respiration matching his grunts of staggering pleasure. She grabbed his buttocks and planted her nails into each cheek. At the same time, she made love to his cock with her mouth. Head bobbing, she rocked back and forth at full speed.

  His cum hit her, battering her palate, beating her tongue, splashing the back of her throat, binding her to his unbridled pulsations. He uttered an unbelievable noise and she reveled in the glorious grunt as his violent release gave her an incredible feeling of utmost satisfaction.

  Committed to the end, she brought her face up against his navel when he softened in her mouth and caressed his buttocks.

  The crazy beating of his heart resounding on her forehead, she sighed with deep contentment while he pressed her face against his groin to take pleasure from his last orgasmic twitches, his fingers still entangled in her hair.

  When she sensed he’d discharged his full load, she let go of him while licking the last pearls of his sperm. She backed a little to look up at him, but his hands stayed locked in her mane, in rhythm with her motion.

  She threw her head back to offer him a clear view of her closed mouth. He looked at her exposed flesh, at the movement of her throat when she swallowed his cum. Down at his feet as if in prayer, naked, lips moist, brimming eyes retaining the memory of their passionate act of love, she stared at him.

  He watched her, too.

  He shuddered. He trembled.

  His grip on her slackened and he released her. Like a man drained of vital energy, he sat on the edge of the tub, his breathing still erratic, legs slightly apart, elbows on his knees. Then he took his head between his hands.

  She let him regain his composure after such a sexual revelation. Intending to back up to the bedroom, she stood up, but didn’t have time to go far. He grabbed her hips, drew her in, and buried his face in her belly.

  She laced her arms behind his head to keep him against her and felt herself drowning in the power of his love. United for the last time, their hearts beating for one another, they beheld eternity.

  Chapter 17

  Before Garrett left his bedroom to attend a family gathering, he told Tracy where she’d find her clothes, along with the crimson dress lent by Jessica. He also lit lamps for her as darkness crept in and he remembered her futile repairwoman efforts.

  She slid open the top drawer of a sturdy chest of drawers. All her belongings were inside, washed and folded with care.

  After opening a majestic wardrobe, she found the red gown on a hanger right beside the black leather Catwoman outfit. She opted for the latter, took a long bath, got dressed, and polished off the remaining contents of the tray.

  Her belly full, she scoured the bathroom in search of a much-desired object. She got lucky in the last cupboard she checked and victoriously retrieved an unused toothbrush. Although pretty similar in its shape, it looked and felt different from her usual synthetic toothbrush. No matter, it got the work done.

  Clean, scrubbed, her hair roughly in place, she went to the window but didn’t make out much even with her eyes squinted. Night fully settled in, which meant Garrett had been gone at least an hour. To talk about her? She hadn’t dared ask him any question, but a family gathering didn’t bode well.

  The dragon queen probably wanted the Richardsons as far away from her manor as possible. That woman hated what her unwanted guests represented, and if she switched on her sixth sense, she must view them as a threat to her son.

  Keyed up, Tracy sat on the bed, rapped her nails on the tray, stood, paced the room, and cursed. Damn if she was going to stay locked up in here while crucial discussions took place downstairs.

  Sure, maybe in another life. Suddenly excited, yet buzzing with reluctance, she stepped into the hallway. At this late hour, servants must have finished their shifts. Empty corridors, deserted stairway, so far so good.

  From the main foyer, she saw at once the unlit dining room. The reunion must be taking place somewhere else.

  She followed the largest hallway, soon locating a buzz of voices and a ray of light coming from the furthest door, left ajar. If she had her bearings right, family business was being conducted in Lord John’s study.

  Glad she chose the black leather outfit to prowl around people she barely knew, she glanced back before edging toward the beam of light. Didn’t she have better things to do than snooping into strangers’ affairs?

  No, because this was hot stuff and much more exciting than on television. Feeling like a CIA spy, she wondered how she’d react if caught in the middle of her new mission. Well, she’d spill the beans way before torture began.

  Grinning, she focused on the task at hand. Two more steps and voices grew louder. She spotted a big closet opposite the door of the study and prayed servants made a habit of oiling hinges. About to creep inside, she paused.

  What was it with her and spying from cramped closets? Deciding to skip this step, she pressed her back against the wall right by the
door. It would be much quicker from here if she had to escape.

  In the study, Lord John was asking his wife to calm down. Great, it served her right. Then again, such a dictatorial, authoritative woman wouldn’t be put out for very long. And bingo, Lady Anne’s voice rose above her husband’s, commanding and impatient.

  “I shan’t suffer defiance or shame to my family. Garrett, it’s a matter of supreme indifference to me that you’re infatuated with an ill-educated commoner. As nothing of interest lies therein, and should you proceed on this outrageous purpose, Lord John and myself intend to disown you.”

  What outrageous purpose? Had Garrett told them he considered running away with her instead of marrying Lady Ashton? It couldn’t be. Maybe so, yet her heart expanded with hope. She held her breath, ears pricked.

  “Mother,” Garrett said, “with the greatest respect, you do not mean that. I fervently seek to do duty by my family, however you must understand nothing is dearer to my heart than Miss Richardson. It’s my devout hope and wish that our souls and commitment may be blessed.”

  Sometimes, love killed. Sometimes, love brought forth the sparks of a new life. She closed her eyes, lips squeezed to refrain from whining, desperately trying to hold back tears of pure joy.

  He’d done it. He’d asked his parents’ permission to marry her. Shaken to her core by the beautiful way he expressed his devotion to her, she spilled a few tears. What mother wouldn’t give in? Who could resist such a moving entreaty?

  “A poignant plea,” his mother replied, “but denial, I fear, must remain. I beseech you to heed my words, Garrett. Should you not abide by Lady Ashton, you shall be deprived of your rightful inheritance, rights, privileges, and rank. You are to leave this domain, and never return.”

  Apparently, the dragon queen had no problem resisting any kind of entreaty.

  Flashes of Garrett riffling in Tracy’s mind, she felt hit by some sort of hindsight. She’d always perceived him as austere, forbidding, unemotional, obsessed with conventions and etiquette, but how could he be otherwise with a spiteful stone wall as a mother?

  Given the circumstances, how would anyone turn differently? The mistress of the manor might love her son, but her primary and only goals in life would always be power, money, and position.

  Sweet Jesus, don’t let him falter now. Please, God, please.

  Eyes fixed on the ray of light, she listened to Garrett’s answer, his voice holding a thin veneer of sarcasm when he spoke. “I must say it’s rather comforting to see family integrity thriving so strongly, Mother. If I may make so bold, have you not considered a less drastic measure? Or might I call it retaliation?”

  The dragon queen emitted a choking sound. “Heaven forbid, I shan’t tolerate insolence in my presence. Drastic measure, say you, Garrett? I’d sooner be hostile to my own servants than avouch a harlot.”

  “Mother, for the love of God.”

  The bitch! The fucking bitch!

  Who did that horrid woman think she was? What gave her the right to insult people without even knowing them?

  Actually more educated than his own mother, Garrett passed over her insult to address his father. “Sir, with your forgiveness, I fail to see your hand behind this.”

  Good one, honey. Let’s see what Dad has to say about that.

  She knew Lord John had inherited a large domain, but he also turned it into an empire. Surely a man of his worth, talent and intelligence wouldn’t agree with his wife’s insane, ridiculous attitude.

  “I have no desire to upset you, son,” Lord John said, “however I share your mother’s opinion. I’ll therefore confine myself to saying simply that you shan’t be allowed to proceed without our permission.”

  “Nothing I might say could put you off, Father?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Holy shit. Both parents were united against their son and intent on ruining his whole life if he didn’t yield.

  His back to the wall, Garrett had no alternative. If he stood up to them, he’d lose everything he was rightfully born to have. He’d be cut off from his family, his friends, even his world. He’d become the very thing he’d first hated in Raphael: a drifter.

  But the dragon queen opened her vile mouth again. “Lady Ashton need never know of your fugacious impropriety. You shall stay, Garrett, and do duty by your family. Have we an understanding?”

  The moment of truth.

  The instant where two lives would be defined by his ultimate decision. Hadn’t she known all along she never stood a chance? Not faced with such a formidable, inbred, insidious enemy. Yet hope filled her heart from the very beginning. She’d fed on wild dreams and unrealistic wishes because hope was the soul of life.

  Vision blurred, fist pressed hard against her lips, she silently implored the man she loved. Say no. Please, baby, say no.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  She fled down the hallway. She climbed the stairs slapdash, ran back to the bedroom, and flung herself onto Garrett’s bed. Out of breath, but refusing to cry over an outcome that had always been coming her way, she grasped the nearest pillow with clenched fists and buried her face inside.

  How could she have been so stupid? Not once, but twice. So wrapped up in her little girl’s fantasies of love even though odds had never been in her favor. Her dad warned her on several occasions but she didn’t want to listen.

  She’d hugged denial like a lover come true and reveled in its chimerical, deceptive embrace. Bad move. Bad decision. Now the road ahead lay bare, abandoned, lonesome, and hurtful, with only her foolish Tracy-self to blame.

  Damn it! Damn them all!

  How long did she hug the comforting pillow? Not long enough to cool off for good. Relaxing her grip, she sat on the edge of the bed and attempted to give some sort of order to her disheveled hair.

  She sniffed. Taking deep breaths, she waited for her system to regain its regular rhythm. She might have succeeded if Garrett hadn’t erupted into the room and carefully closed the door behind him.

  “Tracy, I must speak with you.”

  After all they’d been through, his imposing, disturbing presence still affected her to the point where her hands began to quiver. He came to reject her, and she didn’t want to hear the painful words in his mouth.

  “No need, Garrett. I already know.”

  He raised an eyebrow, his quizzical look prompting her to explain her statement. And why not? As things stood, she had nothing to lose. “I snooped around,” she said, “and I overheard your conversation with your parents. Would you leave me alone now?”

  But leaving her didn’t seem to be his first intention. He came to stand in front of her to present his open hand, a little black box sitting on his palm. A parting gift? Fantastic, just what she needed.

  He’d already offered her his great grandmother’s pearl necklace the first time they had been separated, so what was it going to be today? A royal tiara from King George’s era? Nope, the box was too small.

  “What do you want, Garrett?” she asked with a low tone. “Is this another goodbye gift? Don’t take it the wrong way, but I’m not in the mood.”

  He obviously realized she wouldn’t make a single move to reach for his present, because he went down on one knee. His gorgeous, inscrutable face looking up, he raised his open palm in slow motion.

  What else could she do? She took the box with a sigh, lifted the lid, and blinked to make sure her sight wasn’t impaired. On a bed of white satin lay the most beautiful diamond ring she’d ever seen.

  With an amazing oval cut diamond set in a white gold ring, the elegant, unique jewel dazzled her. The precious gem looked so radiant and priceless that she didn’t dare touch it.

  Instead, she stared at the man on his knee. “This ring is magnificent, but I can’t take it.”

  “It is na
ught but perfect to match your beauty.”

  If he said so, yet who would see the ring in her world? Back home, how and when would she ever wear such a wonderful present without being subjected to painful questions from nosy, ill-intentioned people?

  As tempting as his gift felt, the gem belonged to a married woman. Not a single Californian girl with hopeless dreams and a broken heart. She admired its radiance and wondered who wore it before her. Garrett’s great granny? Another present to the deceased lady from an old lover?

  “Whose is it?” she asked.

  Out of the blue, aristocratic Garrett galloped back to the surface, nose up, disdainful gaze eyeing her. Even down on one knee, his ‘who do you take me for?’ blatant expression couldn’t be mistaken.

  “The ring is yours, Tracy. I purchased it while you explored London with Andrew. Do you not have faith in me?”

  What a strange question. Garrett had just told his mother he’d marry Miss Perfect, yet he wanted her to trust him. An odd man indeed.

  “Okay,” she said, ignoring his thirst for faith. “But why are you giving me this ring?”

  His face changed, softened, yielded to his need. He looked so caring and handsome that her breath suddenly caught in her throat. His dark gaze boring into hers, he reached for her abandoned hand. “My lady, you are the pearl of my world. I kneel before you to offer my love and devotion as your true husband.”

  Was he proposing? Although the words flowed into her ears, her mind had trouble registering the true meaning.

  Why was her heart pounding? Had Garrett really just asked her to marry him? Oh, God, this crazy hammering hurt, and this powerful emotion lashing at her stung so hard.