by Clare Murray
“Better than spending the night in jail.” His foot went back to the accelerator but his free arm stayed wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her facing him as she straddled his thighs.
“This isn’t very safe,” Sasha murmured.
“No it’s not,” Blaze agreed. “I left my condoms at home.”
Sasha spluttered. “I mean the driving. This car—does it even have seatbelts?”
“Seatbelts?” he inquired. “No.”
Was he serious? Sasha gaped at him, and he seemed to soften. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you shouldn’t worry. This Caddy’s perfectly safe. It rolled out of Detroit a matter of weeks ago.”
Any protest died on her lips as Sasha took in her surroundings—really took them in. All the other cars were just as old-new as the one she rode in. The men crowding the sidewalks wore fedoras, the women sported bell-shaped cloche hats. Next to them a car horn hooted, the areeba sound causing her to jump.
This was no film set. Furthermore, this wasn’t Maine. And it certainly wasn’t the twenty-first century.
Chapter Two
The girl was terrified. Blaze had half a mind to kiss her, tease her back into eager pliancy. Having her atop him was almost painfully sexy. He’d been surprised and pleased when she’d responded so willingly to his touch. She’d cast him some admiring glances from the stage but things had moved so quickly it surprised him.
Her ecstatic—and loud—climax left him wanting more of the same from her.
But that would have to wait. Blaze parked the Cadillac and cut the engine. Atop him, Sasha didn’t move an inch. Her wide eyes took in their surroundings with the terror and bewilderment of a rabbit in headlights.
“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he said. He’d intended to drop her off somewhere safe but the dame didn’t look as if she’d survive the night. Blaze couldn’t let her walk away in this state. Nor, he admitted, did he want to.
He carried her over the threshold of his apartment, well aware that he’d never taken a woman home before. The whole place was saturated with his bachelorhood, from the casually draped trousers over the back of a chair to the mostly bare cupboards.
Still, it was far better than the Hell’s Kitchen slum where he’d grown up. He kept it clean and relatively uncluttered. It also had the luxury of a large bedroom with high ceilings.
Not that Sasha was in any state to comprehend any of it.
He brought her a glass of water, leading her to the hardly used couch. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Brown was right, but the door is…in that place,” she said.
Definitely some sort of belated shock.
“In Cornell’s club?” Blaze guessed. “You’re not going back there.”
“I couldn’t if I tried. I don’t remember the way back.” She turned those huge eyes upon him.
“You’re safer here,” he assured her. Blaze leaned forward for a kiss, nibbling for a moment at her luscious lower lip. She was so hot, opening her lips tentatively as she began responding in earnest to his advances. Her tongue flicked against his—yes baby, he thought, just like that. He was going to have to check himself soon if he wanted to hold back.
After all, he reminded himself, he was the kidnapper here.
“If you want to stop…”
She shook her head, panting. Staring at him like he was the only port in a storm. He liked that.
Still, he had to try again. “My brother and his wife live nearby. You could spend the night with them.”
“Better the devil I know.” Her tart response made him grin.
“So I’m a devil, am I?”
Some of her shock seemed to be wearing off. She gave him a muted smile, then gasped as he slid his hands up her blouse. Her breasts spilled easily into his hands, their soft weight resting warmly atop his palms. The thought of driving his cock through that silky valley almost took his breath away.
“You’d come all over my chin,” she whispered.
Blaze tensed. He’d spoken out loud—fuck, he was losing it. To her credit, she didn’t seem at all disturbed. So was she one of Cornell’s prostitutes?
He dismissed that notion in the next instant. She wasn’t worldly enough. Her movements were too hesitant, too genuine to be anything contrived. He wanted to make her come again, hear that breathy little scream as she found her release.
He settled for peeling her blouse off, undoing the buttons one by one, forcing his hands into steadiness when all he wanted to do was rip the thing off and throw it into a corner. It was warm enough for her to walk around his apartment naked—always naked and available to him. Now there was an appealing thought.
The garment fluttered to the floor, followed shortly by the rest of her clothes until she was finally, gloriously naked in front of him. Blaze flung his shirt atop the pile as an afterthought.
Her fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers, brushing tantalizingly against the head of his cock. After that, Blaze was done being a gentleman about the whole thing. His trousers joined the rest of the discarded clothes.
Blaze’s toes curled as she reached out to touch his erection, her hand closing around his shaft and stroking upward until his engorged head was enveloped in her warm grip. Her expression was one of rapt curiosity, which only turned him on more.
Taking hold of Sasha’s hips, he backed her into the bedroom, searching her face carefully for any signs of reluctance. Apart from a faint blush, she was just as eager as he was. He dipped one hand between her legs to double-check, relishing the gasp his touch provoked.
Then he tumbled them both onto the bed, taking care to position her head atop the pillows as she landed, spread-eagled and pliant. She was silent but her body was begging to be touched. Blaze begrudged the precious seconds it took for him to slip on a condom.
He started with her breasts, taking one pert nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. She arched against him, letting out a little cry of pleasure. He couldn’t resist a tiny, triumphant smile at the way she responded to him. So hot, so wet.
His cock jerked in anticipation but he took a few more minutes to build her up. When he finally entered her, she rewarded him with a long, drawn-out moan of pleasure that was music to his ears.
Blaze eased in, letting out a little gasp of his own as her pussy gripped him tightly. She took all of him, silky thighs spreading wide. Her auburn hair splayed out across the nearby pillows, her blue-green eyes closing as he began thrusting, hard, long and slow.
He knew it wasn’t enough for her the moment she began shifting restlessly, her legs sliding as she bucked her hips. Would she beg?
“Faster. Please, Blaze.”
That was good enough for him. He complied, giving it to her just the way she wanted—the way he wanted. He wasn’t going to last at this rate, was going to explode inside her any second now.
Her orgasm took him almost by surprise, her cries pushing him over the edge. He pinned her hips to the bed as he spent himself inside her, white-hot stars dancing across his vision.
After he recovered he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and withdrew. Sasha’s eyes were half-lidded, watching him sleepily as he rummaged for handkerchiefs.
“The bathroom is to the right if you need it. No need to leave the apartment.”
Her eyes widened, presumably at the luxury of having a private indoor toilet. She rose in silence, legs trembling just the slightest bit as she walked out of the room. Blaze suppressed a smug smile.
After she’d been gone a minute, he started to come to his senses. He hadn’t meant to fuck the girl—she was Cornell’s singer, damn it. And Cornell liked depraved sex. Rumor had it he’d strangled his last dame in bed. Nobody knew whether it had been consensual.
Sasha seemed quite normal in bed—well, normal but amazing all the same, he amended. She wasn’t entirely inexperienced but she was certainly far more innocent than Cornell would require.
Blaze frowned. He really should question her as soon as possible, find out where Co
rnell’s main residence was, what the man was up to. Sasha was bound to have some information on the man despite her protestations to the contrary.
His attitude softened as the girl came back into the room. Sasha’s face was drawn and tired, her mouth opening in a helpless yawn as she caught sight of the bed. He couldn’t bring himself to be harsh to her right now.
“Am I to sleep in here?” she asked.
“Unless you want the couch.”
“Mm. I hope you don’t snore.” She climbed into bed, curling up next to him with another yawn. Her eyes closed as soon as her cheek hit the pillow.
After a moment, Blaze followed suit. It was strange to have someone else in his bed. He’d slept alone as soon as he moved out of the Hell’s Kitchen room he shared with three of his brothers.
Eventually he relaxed, listening to Sasha’s even, steady breathing. Tomorrow he would get some answers out of the girl.
Sasha came awake abruptly, staring uncomprehendingly at the sleeping form next to her. Today was eviction day. Why was her ex sleeping next to her?
Seconds later, realization flooded her. She wasn’t anywhere near her apartment. Actually, the place probably hadn’t even been built yet.
She was definitely up an unsanitary tributary without proper means of propulsion, as her mother used to say primly.
Even so, Shit Creek didn’t seem quite so bad with Blaze around. She studied his sleeping form, blushing as she remembered how wanton she’d been yesterday. How she’d writhed on his hand during the car ride, screaming in release. She’d never done anything like that before and she could hardly blame the vodka she’d drunk, because two shots had barely gotten her tipsy.
Besides, Blaze O’Rourke was her kidnapper, even if he claimed this whole thing was for her own good. “I’m developing Stockholm…” Involuntarily, Sasha paused mid-whisper. “Syndrome.”
Strange. It was as if the universe didn’t want her linking the two words together. Wait…wasn’t that particular theory discovered later in the century? Maybe the psychologists in the twenties hadn’t coined the term yet.
Maybe the door she’d walked through had stripped her of the ability to mention anything from the future.
The thought gave her pause. If she walked back through, would she return to normal? Blaze chose that moment to stir, flinging out a possessive arm that she rolled away from.
What was she thinking? This was worse than having sex on the first date. They hadn’t even had a first date! He’d listened to her sing and then carried her off like some sort of caveman.
Sasha had to go. Find her clothes, get dressed…and then what? Ask for directions back to that speakeasy? Did she really want to come face-to-face with Mr. Asshole again?
She shivered at the thought. The guy had looked as if he’d wanted to gut her like a fish and he was apparently the second in command. The big boss, Cornell, must be ten times worse.
Rising, she stretched her slightly sore muscles, reaching her arms toward the high ceiling and rotating her neck in a lazy arc. As she turned around, she met Blaze’s smoldering gaze. He lay there taking in the sight of her naked body, morning wood tenting the covers below his waist.
Sasha blushed at the attention he was paying to her body. “I should go get dressed.”
“I like you just the way you are.” He crooked a finger. “Come back to bed.”
“I’ve never had sex in the morning,” she blurted. It was true—her ex only indulged in vanilla sex, always in the afternoon or evening after he’d properly woken up.
The thought of a hot quickie in the morning stirred her blood scandalously. She licked her lips, staring at Blaze hungrily.
“There’s always a first time for everything,” Blaze said. He reached for another condom. “Do you want to be on top this time?”
Was he enjoying her discomfiture? Fine, she would show him.
“Sure.” She feigned nonchalance.
He made a satisfied sound as her hair brushed his chest. “I like it long. Too many women cutting their hair short these days.”
“I like it long too,” Sasha murmured.
“I noticed.” He grabbed her hips, guiding her forward. “This a first for you as well?”
“Being on—top?” She gasped and leaned forward as his cock filled her. “Yes.”
“I prefer it when you’re straight with me.” His eyes flashed, whether in pleasure or challenge she couldn’t quite tell. Perhaps it was a little of both. She looked away, not quite ready to face up to reality just yet.
As if sensing her reluctance to talk, Blaze gripped her waist, helping her into a rhythm that suited them both. Determined to live in the moment, Sasha welcomed the building ecstasy, the brief respite from real life when she could soar to the heights of passion without worry clouding her enjoyment.
Blaze reached one hand around her hip and—what was he doing, touching her there? She was too far gone to stop him, clenching around both his cock and finger as she shuddered in release.
“W-what are you doing?” she demanded when she could speak again.
Blaze grinned without a shred of repentance. “Giving you pleasure. You’re very tight back there.”
“For good reason!”
“Don’t stop moving,” he commanded. “We can pay attention to your other areas later.”
“But I’ve already…” Sasha trailed off as she began to build again. “I mean, I couldn’t possibly…”
His finger pushed deeper, simultaneously scandalizing and exciting her. Twice in a row? She’d been lucky to come once with her ex. But Blaze was doing it, taking her back…and this time he was with her, gripping tight as he came inside her with a shout.
Had he shouted her name? No, surely she was wrong—or perhaps he’d cut himself off mid-word. Either way, she was feeling sexy as hell as she curled up next to him for a bit of recovery time.
“So you don’t like having a finger up your ass?” he inquired. “Because you seemed to respond pretty well after the initial shock.”
“It’s never happened before.” Sasha shot him a reproving look.
“Which means you’ve never been in Cornell’s bed.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Hurt blossomed quick and surprisingly deep. “This taking me to bed. Is this your way of getting even with Cornell or something? Do you two have a rivalry?”
“No, sweetheart.”
He spoke quickly but not soon enough. She was out of bed and into the living room, snatching up her clothes. Sasha sat on the couch, glaring at him as she buttoned her blouse.
Blaze didn’t try to dissuade her from leaving. He simply got dressed and shadowed her, waiting patiently as she unlocked the heavy front door and navigated her way down the steep stairs.
She couldn’t resist a glance in his Caddy to see if he’d left the keys. No such luck. Not that she thought he’d let her drive off in his car, but she wasn’t in a forgiving mood. Sasha paused at the corner, peering from side to side. Which way had they come from?
Left, right? Right?
God, she was confusing herself, and Blaze’s quiet, attentive presence at her side only increased the pressure. After a minute’s deliberation, she chose an arbitrary direction, trying not to read too much into Blaze’s reaction—or lack thereof. He was still silent.
Her fury was starting to ebb somewhat. Still, he’d thought she was Cornell’s…what, prostitute? Her lips compressed, Sasha plowed forward, fascinated despite herself by the scenes of Jazz Age…what was this city? New York. It had to be New York. Blaze had even said as much but the words hadn’t sunk in.
A paperboy barged past, hustling down the street. There wasn’t much traffic at this early hour, a few cars and a horse-drawn wagon. She resisted the urge to stroke the animal as they passed. They probably didn’t do that kind of thing in this society.
By the time they’d walked a few blocks, she was ready to level with Blaze. She turned a grumpy gaze upon him, catching his eye immediately.
“Te
ll me why you assumed I was Cornell’s whore.”
“He slept with and became quite close to his last two singers. They weren’t very good.”
“In bed?” That earned him another glare.
“No.” He had the temerity to laugh. “Honey, I have no idea what they were like. I only know they were bad singers.”
“Were?”
“They’re dead.”
That sent a chill through her. Dead. Would she be dead if she’d stayed at the club? Forced into Cornell’s bed? Or would she have clawed her way back through that strange little door, returning to her own time?
Maybe they would all have followed her. Mr. Asshole and Cornell and Blaze and Louella, all tumbling into the future and surprising the living fuck out of that crazy old professor and the rest of the students. And her ex.
A hysterical giggle burst forth. Sasha brought both hands up to her mouth. She was going nuts. Absolutely nucking futs, as her parents used to say in the good old days before the divorce.
“Sasha.” Blaze’s strong arms enveloped her, pulling her aside into the relative privacy of an alleyway. “Come on, baby.”
She pulled herself together enough to take a deep breath and level an accusatory glare at his chest. “Am I to infer from this conversation that you think I’m a bad singer too?”
“No.” The denial was so strong she believed it right away. “That’s what made me sit up and take notice in the first place. You’re different from the rest.”
“Is that what made you kidnap me?”
Blaze shook his head. “I need information on Cornell. Thought a singer of his would be the best way to get it. Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if another one died.”
A car rumbled past. Sasha waited until the noise had subsided before speaking again. “What have you got against Cornell?”
“He killed my brother.”
She wasn’t expecting that. “I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as he’ll be.” His eyes darkened a shade. “Maybe you should tell me what you were doing singing at his club if you’re not close to Cornell.”
“Singing’s a hobby for me, all right?”