Chasing Time

by Mia Downing

  “Okay.”

  I swung open the door, and he turned on the lights to reveal a tasteful but ornate bedroom in cream and light florals. A huge canopy bed took up most of the space, the gauzy curtains tied back to the posts.

  He crossed the room and flopped on the bed, his eyes closing as he breathed heavily.

  “You’re not okay,” I said as I bent and touched his cool, damp forehead with my wrist.

  Damn, I’d wanted to joke that this was ploy to get me into his bed before the tour had ended, but his face had lines of exhaustion wrinkling his forehead.

  “I just need to rest. I told you, I’ll see the doctor tomorrow.” He kicked off his slippers and swung his feet up. Cracking one eye open, he patted the bed next to him. “I’d feel better if you just…were here.”

  I stared at the floral bedspread and his now-white hand beckoning to me. “You want me in your bed.”

  “No, I want you next to me, on the bed.” Sighing, he said, “I’ll trade my third kiss for this. No groping. No kissing. No tongue. I just want to put my arm around you and close my eyes.”

  “That’s it?”

  For some reason, I panicked inside. What did I do with this? If he’d pointed to the cream rug and demanded a blow job, I could do that. I would have been crushed, but I could understand that need. But he wanted to trade everything sexy and hot and bold to put his arm around me?

  “That’s it.” He opened both eyes and gave me a tired, sweet smile. “You look terrified.”

  “Why would you want this?” My hand flew to my throat as I fought to breathe. I didn’t cuddle because of the energy. But no man had ever asked me to, either. “No man has ever just wanted to hold me.”

  He shrugged. “Those men don’t know what they’re missing.”

  I blinked and fought for words. I couldn’t ask him about my energy—if he could feel it through the shield. Normal people didn’t really notice it with each other. Even after I had learned to shield, I couldn’t hide my energy from some men, even if I hid behind Goth clothing or dyed my hair like a rainbow…or got piercings… And when they noticed…I suffered.

  But this was Marek, who’d only cherished one woman, had made love to only one woman, had honored that one woman. And he’d been clear—he wanted that with me.

  I made a few false starts before I managed, “Let me ask this a different way. You’d rather hold me than fuck me?”

  He laughed, his arm draping across his belly, as if it hurt when he shook. “I’d rather fuck you then hold you, but I’m really tired. So I’m going to skip right to the best part.”

  “Okay. It’s your trade.” Baffled, I glanced around and found a blanket folded on a chair by the cold fireplace. Grabbing it, I went back to the bed and toed off my sneakers. I climbed next to him and spread the blanket over his long form, careful to tuck in his sock-covered toes. “You don’t think you should see the doctor now?”

  “No, I just need a moment to close my eyes quick. It’s been a long day, and I’m out of energy.” He patted his chest. “Come here.”

  I carefully laid my head by his hand, finding the thumping of his heart and the rising of his chest as he drew in even breaths to be soothing.

  Dipping his head, he kissed my forehead, inhaling my scent. “I’ve had a wonderful evening, Skye.”

  “Me, too.” This room was chilly, so I scooted under the blanket and snuggled closer.

  This wasn’t at all how I expected the evening to end. A polite kiss as I left? Maybe. Me in bed with him? Probably. But me in bed and just…holding him? Never. Not in my world.

  But maybe, he was good for my world.

  Chapter eight

  Skye

  Gasping, I bolted upright, clutching unfamiliar bedding as I fought for clarity. I hadn’t woken up in a strange room in years, and the only room with a canopy bed had been in my naughtiest dreams with the mysterious sex fiend who gave me my after. Only the canopy didn’t look like this, and the wood of the bed had been carved in an ornate, vine-and-floral pattern. But I was every bit as aroused, my core throbbing as the energy swirled inside me with frenzied need.

  As my breathing calmed, the evening came back to me—the dinner, the “kiss a room tour,” and finally, Marek not feeling well.

  Marek.

  He lay next to me, still on his back, sound asleep. The light from the chandelier cast a warm glow over his pale face. He did look at little healthier, though, as if the rest had helped some. God, he was sexy, the hardness of his jaw, the firmness of his lips. I liked his sideburns, the way that dark slash of hair trailed along his ear, the hair on the top of his head a little long, but so hot.

  I brushed the hair from his forehead and found his skin cool but normal—not clammy. Good.

  Was it dirty to want to kiss him and wake him up? Maybe see if he really felt better and could take care of this need that I had no clue what to do with?

  God, what a slut. The man was sick. I drummed my fingers on the bed. So did I leave? Stay? How long was I obligated to curl up next to him. Not that it was really an obligation.

  Marek groaned, and the vibration rippled through me with an ache I felt in my core. “Skye?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Oh, hey.” His eyes opened to narrow slits, his grin loopy. “You colored your hair. I like it.”

  Startled, I touched my other wrist to his forehead. “My hair has been this color since we met. How you feeling?”

  “Odd.” He muttered something unfamiliar, and as I withdrew my hand, he gently grabbed it. “But it’s all good since you’re here. I had the weirdest dream that we were separated, and you almost died, and I was dying, and maybe I still am, but you’re here.” He chuckled as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune. “I can’t die if you’re here.” He gripped my hand tighter and drew it to his lips.

  That innocent press of his mouth on the back of my hand ignited something deep inside me, flaming it like one of his sparks from the fireplace. Maybe I had a perpetual thing for guys who got high. “Did you pop something when I went in the bathroom earlier?”

  His brow furrowed as he tried to think. “Pop what?”

  I shook my head. “You aren’t making much sense.”

  “Yeah. I think it’s because my energy is really low. Remember that one time in the beginning? Like that.”

  “I see.” I didn’t see, but he’d mentioned energy, and mine churned with agitation, mixing with a need that grew as his hand stroked mine. I wanted the groping he promised earlier, to feel those skilled fingers on my breasts or between my thighs.

  He planted a kiss to each knuckle on my hand. With every press of his lips, my panties grew wetter. “Don’t be mad, but I pushed the limits. I wanted to save you.”

  God, even his high seemed noble.

  “I’m not mad.” I lowered to drop a quick kiss to his lips. “You should go back to sleep.”

  As I turned to go, he clutched my hand harder like a lifeline. “Don’t go. If you go, I’ll die.”

  “Okay.” I sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll stay, but I don’t think you’re going to die. You need to sleep off whatever you popped, and then I’ll strangle you in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “All I need is an after. I’ll feel better then.”

  “What?” He couldn’t have said that. I’d searched the Internet for some understanding of what I craved during sex, and no one had anything useful. But here he was, asking for the exact thing I needed. “Marek. I don’t understand you.”

  “You know what I need.” He patted his chest. “Unbutton my shirt, sweetness. Feel my skin.”

  Maybe I needed to be more direct. “Marek.” I gently smacked his face with my free hand. “What’s an after?”

  “Unbutton my shirt.” He let go of my hand and settled back into the pillows.

  If I did it, maybe he’d tell me. My fingers trembled as I hastily unbuttoned the white buttons, separating the plackets of flannel with trembling fingers
. I made it to the bottom, my knuckles brushing over a hard bulge under his button fly.

  “Fates, you’re hot,” he said with admiration as he cupped my cheek. “But I can’t feel your energy. Why?”

  My gaze snapped over the sexy roll of his abs and his tanned chest to meet his gaze. My breathing hitched as his hand smoothed my hair, his eyes hooded with lust. “I— I have a barrier inside my mind. For protection.”

  “Oh, that’s smart.” His brows rose as he cocked his head. “Yeah, you’d need that. Much safer.”

  “Thank you?” This was getting weirder and weirder as I got hornier.

  “Mmm. Kiss me and let me feel you.” He tugged me, guiding me until I straddled his lean hips like we had in the reading nook, only he plopped me square onto his dick.

  I bit my lip and fought a groan as his length throbbed, searing my sex through our pants. “You mean…you want groping?”

  “No. I want to feel your energy.” He plucked at the top button of my shirt, the second, third, and fourth until he bared my bra. “Kiss me and let me feel you,” he begged.

  This had to be a dirty dream like I’d had before, only starring Marek. Baffled, I bent, placed a hand on each side of his head and kissed him, cautiously unshielding as my lips touched his. He groaned and opened his mouth, eagerly stroking the seam of my mouth with his tongue. I parted, and oh, his drunken energy must have noticed mine, because this wild, surge of electricity made me gasp into his mouth.

  With my eyes closed, the darkness flashed with paths of yellow and blue much like my flying in outer space dream. But deep inside, one tiny path of energy felt green, like the blue and green had mixed and become one.

  Wow. I opened my eyes and broke the kiss, panting as his hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples with insistent strokes.

  “Marek,” I asked as he kissed my neck. “What’s an after?”

  “You know, after is the happy explosion. After I make you come.”

  That was exactly what I wanted. Hope soared as I leaned in for a swift kiss. Drugged or not, I was fucking this man. “Is there a word for that?”

  He tongued down my throat, headed toward my collar bones. “Of course not. They didn’t want us knowing about it.”

  Huh. “And you can give me this?”

  “So fucking sexy,” he whispered as he nuzzled the edge of my bra, his fingertips slipping underneath. “Yeah, but there’s something wrong with the bond.” His teeth closed on my nipple through the gauzy fabric.

  It was all I could do not to grind on his dick. I groaned, and he drew the hard peak into his mouth, sucking until my toes curled. He quickly switched to the other, his hand cupping the other breast, soothing the echo of ache. All caution and thought flew out the window. I popped the front snap and let my breasts fall free.

  “Yes,” he hissed and drew a bare nipple into his mouth.

  As he laved the hard peak, I shrugged out of my bra and shirt and rocked my crotch on his dick. I wasn’t getting my clit like he had, though. As if helping, he bucked his hips and repositioned me, drawing my chest down so I got all the pleasure. Oh, he knew his way around the whole groping thing. He sucked with the exact suction I needed, rolling my nipple around his tongue with just enough pressure before darting on to nibble something else.

  “Pants,” he mumbled against the underside of my breast.

  “Mine? Yours?”

  “Yours.” He gently sat me up, shifting his bulge so I had the most exquisite pressure on my sex. “I’ll blow if you touch me.”

  I climbed off, my legs shaking as I unbuttoned my jeans. His gaze followed the motion of my zipper down over my mound.

  “Slowly,” he whispered. “I want to savor this.”

  That sounded more like my less-high Marek. I swallowed and hooked my fingers in my waistband to draw them down, inch by slow inch, so he got the full view of my pants lowering over the gauzy, slutty panties that matched my bra. When my jeans dropped to my feet, I kicked out of them.

  “Come here.” He rolled to his side, and I took the step forward to his outstretched hand. His fingers traced under the thin waistband, along the side, gently dipping just under the elastic so the pads traced a sinful breath from my slit. “Turn around.”

  Obediently, I turned, and he drew in a ragged breath as he snapped the top of the thong backing.

  “Damn, sweetness.” Hot, wet lips pressed to my ass cheek as his fingers rounded my thigh to brush down my slit. “You are so wet.”

  “Rip them off,” I begged. I’d always found that to be hot as hell in the movies.

  “I’m not ripping perfectly good panties.” With more strength than I realized he had, he rose a little and tugged me back onto the bed. He flipped, his mouth closing over my gauze-covered mound. I tried to squirm, and he opened my legs wide, his tongue striking the hard nub of my clit with a firm, wet sweep.

  “Marek.” I moaned as his tongue repeated those firm strokes over the fabric.

  “That’s not screaming.”

  He hooked his fingers in each side of the elastic and drew the fabric down. The moment the fabric cleared my clit, his mouth pounced, sucking the hard nub in. Stars flashed before my eyes, and I shrieked, bucking my hips. I had no clue if I wanted to escape or wanted him to take more. No guy had gone down on me like this.

  “Closer,” he said as he dragged his thumb though my wetness, gently rimming my opening with his tongue.

  “You can stop,” I panted, poised on the edge of something huge that throbbed inside of me, swelling and threatening to crash over the edge. “Fuck me, Marek.”

  “You’re not ready.” He returned to my clit, sliding first one finger and then two inside my opening. Pressing those fingers upward, he hit something that made my hips buck for more.

  Over and over he stroked, kissed, and sucked, alternating pressures and licks until I panted and screamed for him to stop. “I don’t want to come like this.”

  “That’s better.” Marek placed one last kiss to my mound and rolled, lifting his hips to unbutton his pants, then shucked them. He flopped onto his back, his dick bobbing invitingly. “Climb on.”

  “Condom?”

  “Back pocket of my jeans.”

  Leaning, I snagged his pants, removed a strip of condoms, and ripped one off. I returned, unable to resist licking the head of his dick as I fumbled with the foil packet.

  Marek hissed, his hands hovering as if he wanted to sink his hands in my hair and urge me to take more. Oh, I could take all of that and blow his pill-popped mind.

  He groaned. “You have to stop. I want to come with the after.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “Oh, yes.” He tugged me, claiming my mouth in a hot, deep kiss that tasted of my essence.

  Somehow, he guided me back on top, the head of his dick poised so I could use it at will. I’d never been on top, so I fumbled to position him in the right spot to slide down.

  “Take it slow,” he urged. “Let me help.”

  He dragged me down to kiss him as his hand slid between us, guiding so his tip rimmed my opening, teasing, stabbing just enough to make me want to sink down more to suck him in.

  Releasing my mouth, he held my gaze as I sank inch by inch, lost in the depths of the stormy blue of his eyes, savoring the way his jaw clenched as he fought for control.

  I swallowed around my heavy breathing, overwhelmed by his length filling and stretching my sex, our mixed energy humming along my skin, through every nerve and cell. It didn’t feel complete though, like there was a portion of something even better missing, like someone had taken dessert and hidden it from me. As I took him to the hilt, the pleasure contrasted oddly with the energy. The fullness of his cock throbbed inside of me, stimulating every nerve inside my core, yet I felt empty. I needed something more.

  I squirmed, my clit hitting his pubic bone, and ecstasy swirled with need. Maybe I just needed to ride him, and it would pass.

  “I told you, the bond isn’t intact,” he said
as he dragged me down to take a nipple into his mouth. “That’s why it feels weird.”

  Oh. “Then fix it.”

  I had no clue what he was talking about, especially since his teeth had taken hold, and an orgasm the size of a mountain loomed in the background without me doing more than squirming.

  He nuzzled his way to the other breasts and gave his hips a buck. “I can’t.”

  I shuddered as his length surged deeper the second his lips closed on my other nipple and sucked. Groaning, I demanded, “Then how?”

  My nipple popped from his mouth. “Close your eyes and see if you can see the energy. I can see it as colors.”

  I closed my eyes. “Yes, mine blue, yours yellow, and there a tiny strip of green.”

  “You have to join all the blue and yellow. That makes green.”

  “Oh.” What an impossible chore. The blue and yellow churned on separate sides of the image in my mind as if wanting to mix, but I couldn’t mentally grasp them. “How?”

  “Maybe you need to think about joining them—and say some words.”

  “That’s corny.” But the more he sucked my nipples and bucked under me, the more I wanted this joining to happen.

  “Come here.” He tugged me down so my breasts pressed against his chest, his lips now nuzzling my neck as he whispered words I didn’t understand.

  Annoyed, I shook my head, my hair brushing his face. “That’s wrong.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not right.” I don’t know how I knew that, but I did.

  I sat up and took a deep breath, my eyes closing as my hips undulated a little, the shifting of his length inside me sending the colors into a frenzy. I didn’t need words to make the colors flow together in my mind. I joined the ends like threads being mended, the color changing to a brilliant green like the emerald downstairs.

  Everything changed. The pleasure became deeper, more rapturous, as if I shared the level of his joy, too. Way better than any drug I’d taken to try to get this feeling. For the first time, I felt complete. Now, I needed to be sated.

  “Yes, thank you,” he said, moaning as he bucked his hips hard. “Fuck me and get your after.”