ALLEVIATE (The Portals of Time Book 2)

by Jackie Ivie

  It was expected, but still a surprise. Elena’s gasp would have been audible, but there was the strangest aura of pressure in the room. It sucked up sound. It was a sentient presence. Wrapped about her like a silken blanket of warmth. Moisture. A strange sense of electricity accompanied it, sending a jolt of mild voltage that came in surges. Elena’s loins moved now in rhythm with it.

  Morrigan didn’t seem affected. He didn’t act like he’d heard her gasp, or sensed anything strange at all. But then he turned his head slightly. His features were set. A nerve bulged out one side of his jaw. Everything else on him looked hard. Tensed. Locked. He lifted one side of her rent skirt with a hand that visibly shook. Elena watched as he ran the knife toward her – blade up – slicing the seam apart. He reached where her skirt had originally opened and didn’t have to touch anything. The dark fabric fell open and then slid off, making a chinking sound as it settled around her.

  “Um. I think...I can manage...now.”

  Her voice was still breathless, just as excited, and carried an undertone she hoped he wouldn’t recognize. It wasn’t faked. That was exactly how she felt. Several ribbon ties had come into view at her waist. They were supposed to be in the back. The top one opened the rows of starched ruffles that comprised the bustle-thing. The next one belonged to a petticoat...as did three more beneath it.

  Good night.

  This was a ridiculous waste of fabric. And time. She wasn’t a history buff, but she’d learned somewhere that women dressed like this in order to prove status. Well. One thing was certain – she wasn’t a peasant. Anyone wearing this outfit had a lot of time and money and resources available. Just getting dressed would be a production. Why...if the events of her arrival were true, this wasn’t even court attire. This was a traveling ensemble. She must be someone of great importance. Maybe even royal. That was almost comical. She’d heard that people claiming past lives had always been someone of great importance. Princesses. Empresses. Queens.

  Damn it.

  Thinking through things didn’t work, either. She didn’t know who or what she was, and she didn’t care. She was having too much trouble trying to contain massive desire for Morrigan. And failing. He didn’t say anything as he sheathed his knife. That wasn’t helpful. She didn’t know his expression, either. She didn’t dare check. If he was feeling even a fraction of her desire...all kinds of things were imminent. Ripples of pleasure coursed her skin at the thought.

  But...if he wasn’t?

  Oh.

  The potential for embarrassment was too high. She’d rather remain in ignorance. The last of the ribbon ties came apart. She’d reached the waist of her corset. Elena worked her way through the layers, pulling each gap again, widening them so she could wriggle backwards. That way she could shimmy out of the entire mass with one move. It took a few moves, but she was out. Staring at what she’d revealed. And it wasn’t the wad of coin-filled clothing that was between them.

  The rose-colored demi-bra appeared to be part of a full slip. It wasn’t very long, akin to wearing a silken mini-dress. She had ivory-shaded stockings that ended above her knee. They’d been knit into a ribbed pattern, attached to wide lace tops. Ribbons in the same rose shade as her chemise were woven through the lace and tied in front. Whoever had tied the bows had done a fantastic job. They would have looked good gracing a present under a Christmas tree.

  What a thought.

  She looked like a Christmas present. The pressure in the room was getting denser. The air imbued with heat and moisture, and all kinds of shiver-inducing light. Elena cleared her throat. Spoke.

  “Um. Morrigan?”

  He groaned.

  And Elena looked up.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Get...to the fire. Cover yourself...with a blanket. Now.”

  It was an order. Difficult to consider, even harder to voice. The words came out as a guttural croak, scraped his throat. He directed them to the pile of her discarded clothing. He didn’t look beyond the mass of cloth. He might not be able to control what happened. He couldn’t lock his muscles any tighter.

  “But—?”

  By hell fire! She argued it?

  He was doing his best to keep from attacking her. Stripping the little clothing she had left from her body. Finding her haven, burying himself, and discovering paradise. He didn’t question it, either. He somehow knew. Every muscle on his body was pulled tight. Taking each breath was a chore. His heart was pounding so mightily, it might launch from his chest.

  “You are...not safe,” he managed to answer.

  “I feel safe.”

  “I swore to protect you.”

  He shook while saying it. There wasn’t any way to disguise it. And then she pushed the mass of coin-filled attire to one side. Morrigan blinked on the spot, experiencing all manner of astonishment as she scooted into it. Her breasts jiggled as he watched, unable to even shut his eyes. Her legs kept moving as she shuffled closer. The woman was perfect. Unbelievably womanly. She tucked her legs beneath her, leaving her creamy thighs on display, along with the sight of pink bows just above her knees. Leading his eye to...

  Argh.

  He barely caught the groan. A knot formed in his throat at the effort.

  “Um. Okay. I mean – all right.”

  “Elena? Please. You must go...and. Uh. You must—.” The words were almost unintelligible. Grumbled. Bestial.

  “Yes?”

  Her breath touched him, tingeing his existence with even more hellish fire. And then she scooted even closer! His entire body reacted, despite the hold he exerted. His frame lunged upward a fraction before he caught the motion. He pulled each muscle even tighter, proving he still could. Sucked-in air iced his teeth. But the inhaled breath warmed the longer he held it. The hammering of his heart became a torment.

  She reached out with a hesitant gesture. He watched as she lifted one of his shirt ties ends, and pulled it toward her. Morrigan lost his withheld breath. Words came out with it. He was pleading. And it sounded like it.

  “Go to the fire! Please! Get covered.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  He growled. The obstruction in his throat shifted painfully. Bass notes pulsated through the space. The bow at his neck came undone.

  “I will not take...an unwilling woman!”

  There. The fear was voiced. She couldn’t mistake him.

  “Um. Morrigan?”

  She’d dropped his tie and began twisting her fingers together, making her breasts jounce against each other. Morrigan thought he fought hellish desire already. He’d been mistaken. Somehow, he stopped the involuntary lurch his body made. Toward her. And heaven. And he actually welcomed the ache that went through his muscles at his action.

  “I just want to...um. Talk about the unwilling thing.”

  He reeled backward slightly. His head shot up, his eyes went wide. Hope sent a blast of cool air through him. She had her head bowed and was looking at her entwined fingers. Was it possible...?

  “Are you perhaps...a courtesan?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “You do not know?”

  “It sounds impossible...and it is. Honest. But...despite everything, I have to accept the fact that I’m actually here. It’s the year seventeen ninety. I’m in...um...this unbelievable position. And I’m getting bombarded with feelings I thought were lost. The idea that you might feel it, too? Well. That...um...brings me to the unwilling part.”

  Morrigan held his breath. He didn’t dare move.

  “It’s been so long since I felt womanly. Desired. Wanted. The combination is beyond heady...and it’s running really high at the moment. Maybe because it’s late. We’re alone. This is a small room. You’re a lot of male. The thought of—uh. Yeah. With you? It’s just, um...I don’t even know if I’m making sense.”

  Her words stopped. She looked up. Her dark eyes shone as if glossed with unshed tears. Morrigan’s heart felt like it swelled at the sight while an ocean took over his hea
ring, filled with the sound of his pulse.

  “Are you saying you are not...unwilling?”

  He managed to ask it. Her lips curved into the slightest smile. She raised and lowered her eyebrows several times.

  “I don’t think I have ever been this turned-on,” she told him.

  Everything stopped. His heart. His breathing. The crackling of the fire. The sound of waves in his ears. Even time held back for the merest moment. His swallow was audible.

  “The phrase...is unfamiliar to me.”

  “Oh. I think you’ll figure it out.”

  And then – to his amazement – she blew him a kiss!

  Morrigan didn’t know who moved first. Her perfect body reached him, putting a cushion of softness against his chest. His arms wrapped about her, pulling her even closer. His heart thundered through his chest, but it was the kiss that nearly sent his head off his shoulders.

  This woman knew how to kiss.

  The moment their lips met, she was sucking and pulling, and moving her mouth against his, igniting all kinds of sparks. This woman was incredible. The sensations she evoked with her lips – staggering. Her mouth sent incendiary sensations. He slid his tongue between her lips. Her moans combined with his long, drawn-out groan. Their tongues tangled, their breaths commingled. And Morrigan launched backward, landing with a thud.

  She writhed atop him throughout the kiss. And it went on forever. He wasn’t willing to break the contact. It was addictive. He couldn’t get enough. Her legs separated. She straddled him. Then she used that new position to grab the sides of his open jacket and shove at it. Morrigan sat slightly, lifting her with it, shrugging first one shoulder and then the other free of material. She was probably trying to help as she stretched out, pushing at his sleeves. It didn’t feel like help. That position had her legs splayed apart, her breasts smashed against him, and her warmed cavern pressed to his lower belly, as though suctioned in place. The contact of their bodies sent incredible sensations through him. He gave in. No amount of control was left.

  He struggled with the jacket, settled with rolling to one side to get an arm free. He rocked back the other direction and waved his arm, trying to free it from the sleeve. She clung to him the entire time. He felt it, but then every sensation was lost in the continued wonder of their kiss. He wasn’t foregoing a moment of it. The deep sounds emitting from his throat were proof. The jacket fell, making a wadded bundle at his back. He ignored it. It didn’t matter. What did were the ties up her back, lacing the corset to her. Her stays had been fastened with the same rose-shaded ribbon that adorned the rest of her undergarments. The tie was between her shoulders. He found it by touch. Pulled both ends of the ribbon, releasing the bow, and then he started unlacing and pulling the corset open, working his way to her waist.

  She hadn’t been docile. She’d grabbed the linen of his shirt and was pulling it upward. That moved her...downward. Matching her woman-place to where his rod strained against the crotch ties of his trousers. Her legs tightened about him as she fit against him. And then, she moved.

  Morrigan jerked, and then hovered in place while whispers of the very devil himself went through his ears. She slid back down him. His head whirled. His breath caught. His fingers reached the bottom of her corset at the same moment her hands touched his bared skin.

  Morrigan shot to his feet. He didn’t even know how he’d managed it.

  Elena was in his arms, but the move had separated their kiss. Her every breath harassed where it touched. Her corset was no longer affixed to her. He watched it fall, parting locks of her hair that tried to snag it. Dark strands clung to his shirt. His lower jaw. His arms. Tendrils outlined their embrace, somehow giving it form.

  His shoulder smacked the support pole as he passed it, rocking them sideways a step. It didn’t stop him. He looked down at his bench. Spent a moment considering. It was sturdy enough, but much too small.

  “Where...are we going?”

  Her breath was a curse. Her words only enhanced it.

  “Bed.”

  The word was deep-toned. Rough.

  “Oh, my. Yes. And hurry!”

  She didn’t realize what she did. She spoke the words to his throat, and then touched her tongue to him. Morrigan jumped. His head hit a rafter. The resultant drop jolted his limbs and made him clumsy. He almost dropped her. He shifted her upward onto his shoulder before anything worse happened. He held her there with one arm, while the other shoved items off his bed. All, so he could pull the pallet at its base loose. Drop it to the floor. The straw-filled burlap unfolded with the move, making a barely-padded surface. He unfurled both blankets atop it next, flapping them into place. It wasn’t perfect, but it would work. It was the best he could manage with how she wriggled, consuming most of his attention.

  And worse.

  She hadn’t worn a stitch of clothing beneath her chemise.

  Firelight glowed on her spectacular hind-end. At the sight, Morrigan’s knees wavered and then collapsed. He dropped with an awkward motion, but he had her on her back before his knees had time to notice. Or complain. Her hands were full of his shirt again. She wasn’t using it for a handhold. She was pushing it up and out of her way. Morrigan lifted long enough to help. A seam tore somewhere in the linen. He didn’t care. He yanked the shirt over his head and chucked it before slamming his hands to the bedding at either side of her, propping him from her. He couldn’t get closer because she had her hands roaming about his abdomen and chest, making little mews of pleasure while her loins gyrated against him. Then she spoke.

  “Oh, wow. Morrigan. Wow. You are really something. Gorgeous. Ripped. Manly. I mean, wow. Just. Wow. ”

  He didn’t understand most of the words, but he couldn’t mistake her awed tone. He grunted and flexed muscles, preening for her.

  “I can hardly wait to see the rest of my um...present.”

  Her hands touched his waist. Fumbled with the top of his crotch tie.

  “Present?”

  Morrigan didn’t know how he managed to speak. He’d gone still at the first touch of her fingers to his groin. And then he vibrated in place.

  “It is Christmas Eve, isn’t it?”

  She winked. He jerked. Her fingers grazed his belly as she worked at the rawhide lacing. And then it hit him. She wasn’t the only one with a present. Each of her movements pushed her bosom toward the edge of her chemise. Morrigan twisted to put his weight on one arm, put a finger beneath her garment, and then he pulled it down.

  Oh!

  She was beyond beautiful. Even beyond perfect.

  Morrigan wavered but caught any fall by tightening his abdomen. He pulled up enough so he could maintain that position. So he could use both hands. She had perfect nipples, too. Dark. Small. Morrigan massaged and enjoyed, twisting her little nipples into pinpricks that stabbed into his fingers. He barely felt it as she finally worked his ties loose. Nor did it get through to him that she’d opened his trousers. But then she wrapped him in her hands and started squeezing and the immediate lurch nearly sent him into the rafters again.

  “Oh, woman. Oh! So mass. So milis. And oh, so crodae!” The words fled his lips in groans.

  “I don’t know...what that means. But the answer is yes. Yes! And another yes!”

  The last yes ended on a high-pitched cry. Morrigan licked his lips. Shuddered. Somehow managed to answer. “It means beautiful. Sweet. And wild.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She added to her reply by stroking his rod. A riot of sensation shot down both legs. Morrigan went rigid. He stared, shock mixing with a degree of pleasure he hadn’t expected, and couldn’t remember experiencing. She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity while her fingers worked his member. Her body writhed beneath him. She licked her lips...

  And that’s when everything went truly crazed.

  Morrigan grabbed her hips, shifted her into position, and she helped. It was her hand guiding him. Her upward lunge that linked them. But it was his solid thrust that burst thr
ough an obstruction to join them. Her body jerked at what had to be pain. Morrigan sucked in a breath. Held himself rigid. Tried not to move.

  “You were...a maid?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Don’t stop, Morrigan. Not now. I’m begging you.”

  Her whisper barely filtered through his consciousness. Heated strength engulfed him. Moistness cocooned him. Concentric rings of suction were gripped about him. All of it combined into a mass of sensation. All of it was entreating him to move. And she begged him not to stop? He didn’t think that was possible. It was barely controllable.

  “Please?” she added, as he hesitated.

  Her cavern held tightly as he eased out. Felt even tighter as he filled her again, feeling the constriction stretch. He pulled out again. Pushed back in. A third time. Fourth. Each time was akin to being stroked with fire. Hugged with near-pain. And then something altered. He wasn’t imagining it, either. She started meeting his thrusts. Assisting with his move to pull out. Only to thrust back in. Pull out. Thrust.

  Again and again.

  A solid feeling of pressure formed at his lower back, the sensation beyond heavenly. His every move increased it. Each lunge. Every time he withdrew. The resultant thrusts back into wonder. He’d been mistaken. This was past milis. Sweet was too small a word to describe anything about her. And what she made him feel.

  She was attuned with him now, too. Her legs gripped about him. Her thighs flexed with every motion. She used the position to make everything more intense. Stronger. Much more crodae – wild.

  The power behind each thrust increased, each one getting a little harder. Going deeper. His every breath carried a growling sound, while hers may have begun as little sighs, but they grew in strength and volume until it was a litany of feminine-sounding appreciation.

  And then it was a blissful-sounding scream that filled the croft with sound.