Chasing Time

by Mia Downing

  He met me halfway in a hard, deep kiss that was all tongue. I clutched the blankets next to his head, steadying myself as I rose and fell, his cock thrusting in deep, delicious strokes that hit all the good spots. The orgasm rose higher, climbing as if possessed up a ladder of ecstasy. I wanted it never to end, yet I wanted my after right now.

  He broke the kiss. “You’re about ready. Gather up all that energy and release it to me as you come. Give it permission. You have to want that more than you want to breathe.”

  Oh, I wanted that more than I wanted to live. Desperation took over as need consumed me, and his hand slid between us to pinch my clit.

  The orgasm rose like a tidal wave, higher and higher until it crashed down on me in a gush of bliss that took my breath. Somehow, I released the energy, giving it permission to flow like another tidal surge that exploded, overtaking the stream of green in a wash of deeper color, the pleasure exquisite.

  Overwhelmed, I screamed his name, clutching for something to ground me.

  “Darat nan,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

  I collapsed, panting as the energy calmed, the swirling lazy and playful as the wave receded. My core still clenched and throbbed around his softening length, not wanting his cock to leave. “What was that?”

  “That was the after effect.” He kissed me and cradled me close, breathing in my scent, his hands roaming in sensuous rubs that reflected the energy’s motion. “It gets better.”

  “I don’t think I could survive better. I’ve never orgasmed like that,” I murmured, suddenly exhausted.

  “You sleep,” he urged, his lips brushing my temple.

  I whimpered as he withdrew, not wanting the aftershocks of joy to end. As he rose from the bed, I snuggled against his pillow, breathing in his scent. The only thing I could think was that I was safe. I knew this, deep down in a scary, psychic way. It was almost as if I’d been here before, done this before. I could sleep as hard as I wanted in this man’s bed, and he’d protect me.

  So…I slept.

  Skye

  I woke with a jolt, blinking to a blurry vision of Marek watching me sleep. He’d propped himself up on his elbow, his hand cupping his head and making a sexy mess of his hair. In the dim light of a flickering candle, he looked damned good and healthy, like whatever had ailed him earlier had passed like a departing storm.

  He whispered something I didn’t understand, but I felt it deep in my core as an ache stirred to become a throb.

  I drew in a long breath, inhaling his intoxicating scent, my whole body humming with growing need. “How can I still be horny?”

  “Mmm.” His lips drew into a sexy smile, his chin dimpling. “I think it’s the after you want.”

  “Can I have that without the other?” My bones quivered like piles of jelly, and I wasn’t even riding him or bucking my hips or anything fun.

  “No, but if you give me permission, I’ll make love to you, and you won’t have to move a muscle.”

  Now that sounded good, but intimate in a scary way. “Is making love possible? We just met.”

  He shrugged, his face softening with affection that should have scared me. “Well, we fucked the first time. What I have in mind is slower, more sensuous and fulfilling on a different level.”

  “Oh.” I rolled to my back and sighed as I gave a long stretch. “I give you permission then.”

  Scooting closer, his fingertips guided my head to face him, his arm draping above it. He drew near and kissed me gently with a soft yearning I felt in each jellied bone. His tongue danced with mine in sensual strokes, the kiss as languorous as I felt. I moaned and cupped his cheek, holding him closer, loving the rough rub of stubble under my palm.

  Breaking the kiss, he rolled, his chest rippling and flexing as he straddled my legs, his dick already rock-hard with need. “Close your eyes. It’s better.”

  “But I like looking at you.” I ran a lazy finger between his pecs, tracing the tiny trail of dark hair to his cock. “I like touching you, too.”

  He jerked his hips so I couldn’t grab his length, and I growled in frustration.

  “Behave. This is about you, so close your eyes.” He planted a kiss on each of my eyelids, forcing them closed. “Trust me.”

  “Okay.”

  When his lips finally landed on my neck, my breathing hitched with anticipation. His hands began caressing, roaming and darting all over, touching everything but not quite touching what needed to be touched. Arching, I tried to guide him, but he always eluded how I squirmed to head off in a different direction. He was right about the eyes closed. I couldn’t anticipate where his mouth or hand would go next, the energy churning with anticipation.

  He sucked my collarbone as his fingertips skirted under my breast and around my nipple without closing in for the good stuff. Lips traveling lower, he made a path along my cleavage, splitting my breasts with a long draw of his tongue. Gentle fingers skimmed the curve of my hip, tracing around my belly button before they journeyed downward.

  Eagerly, I parted my thighs, only to have him brush the sides of my mound as if it were inconsequential, resuming a path down my legs. How spoiled I was already, wanting his mouth on my clit so he could take me to that magical, after place.

  Instead, I got my knees kissed and my calves laved and my ankle lapped with a gentle reverence I didn’t know existed. Every nerve stood at attention, wanting to be stroked and loved, too.

  On his way up my body, his fingers skimmed the edge of my mound one more time, and I bit back a scream.

  “You have a problem, sweetness?”

  “I want your tongue on me.”

  “Mmm. It is.” To prove his point, he ran his tongue along the outer edge of my lips.

  “No. For fuck’s sake, suck my clit.” I spread my legs wider in invitation, the energy practically whining from frustration. I had no clue who this wanton creature was that controlled what came out of my mouth, but I could stand by that. My clit needed sucking.

  “Well, that’s hostile.” He went back to tonguing my belly button, his hand brushing under my breast. “You have to ask nicely.”

  “You offered to make love to me, and I didn’t have to do anything, and now you want me to beg?”

  “I’m all for begging. It makes a guy feel manly.” His tongue traced the path his fingers had just laid down under the curve of my breast. Down below, the tip of his very damp cock skimmed along the crease between my thigh and sex, darting closer to areas that ached before he pulled away.

  “I’m not begging.”

  “Is that a challenge?” The dangerous look he shot me made my belly quiver.

  “No?” Maybe it was.

  “Okay, then, challenge accepted.” He attacked, kissing and sucking everything except my clit, his tongue sliding down each lip, rimming my opening, his thumb darting along the cleft just above where I wanted attention.

  I panted and bucked my hips, trying to slide his face or hand or whatever to get him to comply with my needs. Damn it. I throbbed, and I was tired, and everything felt gloriously sexy and achy and boneless, like the best high I’d ever had.

  Suddenly, I hit a point where if he took one more lick without complying, I wouldn’t survive. “Please.” I moaned. “Please, please, please.”

  “Are you begging?”

  “Yes, damn you.”

  “That’s not nice.” He blew on my clit, the heat from his mouth too much to bear.

  “Please, sexiest man in the world with the best tongue, and if I do not come, I will die, and that’s on you.” I panted, breathless, my heart pounding.

  He laughed, a sound so sexy and dirty and downright gloriously evil that I shuddered. “Gather the energy. This after is going to be good.”

  “I’m not ready—”

  His mouth claimed my clit, clamping down with perfect pressure that shot me into immediate orgasm.

  “Oh, fuck.” I shattered like glass, my toes and legs cramping as I spasmed in the best orgasm yet.

 
“Release,” he mumbled over my clit as the pulses continued, my hips rolling with the pleasure.

  Hastily, I set the energy free and rode the waves of ecstasy higher, the explosion smaller than before but just as welcomed.

  I opened my eyes as he rolled off me, grabbing a condom packet from the floor.

  After watching him fight with the foil for a minute, I said, “Bring it here.”

  “I’ve never put one on.” He stepped to the edge of the bed.

  I ripped the packet and applied the condom, rolling it down every hard inch of him. “You didn’t use them? Not even in the beginning?”

  “No.” Now encased in the needed equipment, he swung up and over my legs. “Do I have permission?”

  “Yes, of course. You just gave me a hell of an orgasm. Have fun.” I caressed his chest as he got into position, the head of his hard dick rubbing my opening. “Did you get an after even though you didn’t…you know?”

  “You weren’t so shy about saying ‘come’ thirty seconds ago, but yes, I get an after.”

  Huh. “If I blow you, do I get an after?”

  He chuckled. “No. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Can I blow you anyway?”

  “You’re killing me.” He groaned. “You can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours.” Sinking deep with one thrust, he dipped his head to claim my mouth in a hot yet lazy kiss.

  Time seemed to pause as he thrust, his hand caressing my hair, my sides, my breasts, my ass. I tried to keep up, to meet him kiss for kiss, to explore the strong muscles of his back and ass, my legs wrapping around his thighs to get leverage.

  I thought I was failing in the orgasm department until he whispered, “Release.”

  Just like that, I came like he’d plunged me under water without warning. I gasped for air, remembering this time to send the energy off on its journey. Heat filled the condom as he shuddered and collapsed. Wet kisses dotted my face, my neck, my lips as he laughed and snuggled me close.

  “You good?” he lazily asked, his large hand resting on my belly.

  “Mmm, yes.” I flopped my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat, his skin warm and damp from our fun. But I fought the clutches of exhaustion, fighting the whole sleep thing. “You going to explain this whole after thing at some point. And this bonding thing.”

  He hugged me close. “Tomorrow.”

  “Good,” I murmured, kissing his salty chest. “Because I have a lot of questions.”

  “Maybe by tomorrow, you’ll remember the answers.”

  I probably imagined him clutching me tighter, holding me closer like I’d escape him. As if. I’d gotten my after. He’d have to have some helluva weird answers to get rid of me.

  Chapter nine

  Marek

  The timer dinged as I rounded the corner to the kitchen, just in time to take homemade muffins out of the oven. Once, I’d asked Grace what Skye’s favorite was, just to be sure if I got brave enough to come to the bookstore. And since I couldn’t sleep, I’d gotten up, did dinner dishes, and made a batch of blueberry muffins. While they were cooking, I’d crept back into my room, grabbed clothes, and showered in the guest bathroom.

  Holding Skye in my arms as she slept was all I’d yearned for in the last year and a half, her body curled to mine, her energy surrounding me in a mental caress. Her dark lashes had dusted her high cheekbones, her coppery hair streaming over my chest as she bit her pink lips with a sigh.

  As a normal, red-blooded guy, I had thought about the sex, the feel of her wet heat sinking onto my length as I kissed her… But I had missed the aftermath the most, when I could watch her sleep and enjoy her energy.

  I dumped the muffins out of their tins and started coffee brewing. I could tell from our shared energy that she was in that between realm of not quite asleep, not quite awake. She tended to stay there for a bit, languishing in that warm, cozy state. That meant I had a little time to come up with a plan.

  I’d almost screwed it all up last night, being so low on energy that I’d been fuzzy on my timeline. I’d felt drunk and giddy at seeing her next to me in bed, but I had thought my life here had been a bad dream. Her being horny meant she’d shifted enough extra energy to me so I could snap out of it partway into the sex. I feared I’d said too much, though.

  At least now I understood why I couldn’t feel her bond before. I’d always been able to feel it—see it. And since returning, it had been like looking at and feeling a blank, invisible wall, so I had just assumed we didn’t have one.

  I wasn’t surprised that she had learned to protect herself. Her gift allowed her to sense the energy of others. For some reason, the people in this time had weirder energy than others. And being partially bonded would have caused some level of discomfort when I jumped in time away from her. A partial bond would search for me.

  I loved feeling her through our bond. She could give me a death stare, and yet I could sense through the bond that she loved me more than anything. I missed that. I’d always known when she was close to coming or when she was about to blow with anger. Both had their uses. Making her come was the best thing in the world, especially when she had psyched herself out, convinced an orgasm would never happen.

  But my Skye had a temper and deadly aim, and both made me cringe. If she didn’t regain her memories so she could forgive me, I feared an explosion that would rival any volcano’s demise.

  I put the muffins on a plate and dug out a tray to hold them and butter, jam, and coffee fixings. The trusty carafe stood ready to accept Skye’s lifeblood. There would be no reasoning with her until she had at least two cups. I’d walked a thin line last night, one that might require a lot more than caffeine to explain.

  She’d saved my life, and I was eternally grateful. If she had left, I would have died at some point soon after, slipping into a coma first. It happened to young teams during training, and we’d come close to that happening in the beginning. She’d saved me then, too.

  But in our time, she’d known what she was getting into when she’d chosen me. The Association had prepared her for years for the ceremony that would bind us. She’d known this was permanent, that I’d be her partner until we died. And yet she’d still made me hers.

  But this Skye hadn’t had any warning before she consented, and I had no clue how to tell her, what to tell her. I mean, yes, the truth, but her reality was about five hundred years behind mine. Without her remembering, it would be impossible to make truth out of what she would label science fiction.

  Above me in my bed, she began to awaken, her energy floating like sanguine morning mist on the dawn. I bit back the terror wanting to creep up and take hold. She’d feel it. And she’d wonder why I was scared and why I wanted to run out the back door and never return.

  I gathered the tray, took a deep breath, and savored her happiness. This could be the last time either of us were happy for a long, long time.

  Skye

  I rolled, eyes still closed, and snuggled into the pillow that smelled deliciously of Marek. I inhaled his woodsy scent mixed with some sort of lavender fabric softener from the sheets. He seemed to like lavender. My muscles ached in the best way, and my energy hummed with satisfaction linked to the mind-blowing sex.

  But something had changed, shifted. I could now feel Marek’s energy—happy, laced with a note of worry, as he moved about downstairs, somewhere to the left. The kitchen?

  I bolted upright, clutching the sheet to my naked chest. How did I know that? With morbid fascination, I followed Marek’s energy journey as he walked down the long hall, through the foyer, and up the stairs. His energy had changed, too, the concern growing stronger as he approached.

  I wasn’t shielded. Oh, God, that was why I had learned how to protect myself in the first place, so I wouldn’t have to feel strangers with their emotional baggage. And now, I had some weird, psychic GPS going on? No. Just no.

  As Marek opened the door, I slammed up my mental shield, protecting myself from the too up-close-and-p
ersonal. I’d had sex with him. I didn’t need to know more than he’d thought it was great, too.

  “Sweetness.” He paused in the doorway, blinking with confusion. I didn’t know if he sensed my protection, but if it bothered him, he hid it well. “I thought you’d want coffee and something to eat.”

  “I’d never turn down coffee.” There. I could be civil, even if I were freaking out inside.

  He came into the room with a tray, his hair damp from a shower, his jaw still sporting some of that sexy stubble. And he was shirtless, his broad shoulders and biceps flexing a little as he walked across the room…wearing leather pants.

  That couldn’t be right. I gawked as he bent to set the tray down in the sitting area. His ass was encased in tight, worn leather that wasn’t the least bit shiny. My breathing hitched with growing terror. I had to be trapped in one of my dreams. I pinched my thigh, hoping I’d wake up. It stung, and now, I’d have a bruise.

  “Did Grace put you up to that?” I demanded.

  “Up to what?” He straightened and cocked his head in confusion, in all of his half-naked, bare-chested glory like a vision from my dirtiest dreams. “I asked her what muffins you like a while ago. I wanted to get you one from the bakery, but this is better.”

  “No.” I pointed to his crotch, my finger trembling in the air. “The leather pants.”

  "Why would she—" His brows rose in surprise. “No? They’re mine, from home. They’re more comfortable than jeans.” He gestured to the tray. “You want me to make you coffee?”

  I swallowed, my throat dry. “Please.”

  He turned, giving me a view of his muscled, tanned back, and I shrank into the bed. I’d found the tattoo he’d mentioned yesterday, emblazoned on his left shoulder blade. That was as bad as him showing up in leather. I’d dreamed of that ink, the watch gears bearing a clock face with little stars marking each number, a sun rising from behind it. I’d drawn it, I’d painted it, and it had called to me so much that I’d finally gotten one of my own. But mine had finer gears so it was delicate, and I’d chosen a storm cloud instead of the sun. And mine was in the exact, same place on my back.