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her into the softness of her bed. The smell and taste of him,
sweet and tangy, manly.
Spreading her legs, she gasped when the tip of his cock
rubbed against her pussy lips.
"Not yet, lassie," he murmured as he moved his kisses
from her mouth to her cheek to her ear to her neck, where he
nibbled and nipped and made her moan.
"I believe it now, Camden. I swear I do," she said,
panting. She did believe. No one had ever made her this hot,
this horny in real life. She needed to feel him inside of her.
She needed a man filling her fulfilling her sexually.
"Please..." she begged, tugging on his shoulders, trying to get
him to move back up and into her.
Instead, he moved farther down, down, kissing her
collarbone, her chest. And then she nearly flew off the bed
when his hot, moist lips closed around her nipple. Like fire
racing through her body, her nerve endings sizzled. She
bucked and moaned and grabbed his head so he couldn't
move away.
She'd taunted him by stripping naked in the living room.
She'd believed then this whole thing would be over in
minutes. He'd put his dick in her, she'd be disappointed, and
it would end. She would send him away. A small part of her
wanted that because this was too scary. This disrupted her
life, everything she knew and believed. If he could do this to
her, she couldn't help but believe in everything he'd tried
telling her. It was the last bit of proof.
He released her nipple with a soft pop of suction and
moved to the other. She gasped and thought she might come
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right then, without his cock inside of her. His voice, a soft
humming sound, vibrated through her, and she sobbed.
"Please. Oh, God, Camden, please."
He trailed his hands down her sides, back up, down again,
the slight coarseness of his calluses turning her insides to
jelly, making her whole body quiver. Her cunt was hot, moist,
as it was after a dream of her midnight lover. She tried to
reach between her legs to relieve the torturous pressure
building inside of her, but Camden caught her by the wrist
and pinned it to the bed.
He raised his head from tormenting her nipple with his
teeth and tongue. "I will make ye come, lass."
"I know," she cried, and thrashed her head from side to
side, her eyes squeezed tight. His weight pinned the rest of
her to the bed, so it was the only thing she could move.
"Do you believe I am yer lover? Yer one and only?"
She nodded.
He nipped her nipple, and she cried out and arched. "Yes!
You're the one."
"And ye'll ne'er doubt again, will ye, Therese?"
She shook her head. "No. Never."
"Look at me, lassie."
She opened her eyes and looked into his, her breaths fast
and harsh, her cunt pulsing with need of its emptiness to be
filled.
"I have loved ye for thousands of years. I will love ye for
thousands more. The only time that matters, though, is now."
He thrust into her, deep and hard.
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Teri screamed as the orgasm surged through her body.
She cried at the sheer joy of their joining, clung to him as he
pumped into her body, thrust up against him each time he
stroked into her to prolong the pleasure of finally, after a
lifetime of waiting, being right where she belonged with the
man she was meant to be with.
Camden kissed her deep, his tongue stroking her in the
same rhythm as his cock, and she lost all track of time, of
everything but the fact that finally, finally, she'd found the
man of her dreams her midnight lover come to life.
She came again and again and again until she fell limp into
the mattress and Camden roared her name as his orgasm
ripped through him, hot, hard, primal. When he collapsed, he
rolled to the side, pulling her into his arms, their bodies slick
with perspiration.
He tucked her up against his chest, his heartbeat fast and
loud in her ear, his heavy breaths fanning her bangs against
her forehead. Within moments, Teri fell into a deep,
dreamless sleep.
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Time and Again
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Epilogue
* * * *
I met Therese Whitmore on a muggy fall day in the cool air
conditioning of the Smithsonian. She was the woman I'd
sought for a lifetime, and there she was, by accident or Fate.
She was my twin flame, and I'd fight to win her heart, her
soul, if it was the last thing I ever did. And my oh my, the
woman knew how to put up a fight. But the reward was all
the sweeter for it.
Six months later...
"It was so much different in my dream," Therese said as
she stood at the top of a cliff and looked down on the Roman
street below.
"Well, lass," Camden said, wrapping his arm around her
and splaying his hand over her slightly rounded belly. "A lot
can change in two thousand years."
She shook her head. "I don't think this was the place. I
could see the water from the cliff, smell the sea." Leaning
forward she peered down the short drop-off. "This is all
wrong."
He pulled her back, away from the ledge. "I donna want a
repeat performance," he practically growled. "I canna
understand why ye insist on visitin' all these places if they
were filled with so much unhappiness."
She turned in his arms and touched his cheek as she
smiled up at him. "Because there was happiness too." She
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grinned. "You saved a beaten, half dead slave girl. Took her
in, cared for her, loved her, made a child with her."
"Aye, and then let you die for me." He scowled. The more
he learned the truth about their past lives, the more he hated
that she remembered so many details. Over the years, the
stories had been twisted a bit to make the men in his family
seem a little better than they were. More heroic. He hadn't
known that his ancestor Titus Marinus had let Wenda fry or
get thrown off a cliff as the case were for something he'd
done. In the stories passed down through the last few
generations, Wenda had actually committed the crime. He
sighed and snuggled Therese against his chest.
His Therese.
His wife.
The mother of his child.
She'd finished reading all the journals, and her memories
of her past lives grew more and more each day, especially
now that she was open and receptive to them. Most of his
knowledge came from the oral histories from his father and
grandfather. But Therese set him straight, of course. Now
that she had quit working for the Smithsonian and moved to
Scotland, she had plenty of time to set him straight about
many things. They'd spent months traveling, and Rome had
been the last stop on her agenda. She'd been determined to
stand atop Tarpeian Rock and see where Wenda's life had
ended.
He buried his face in her hair. "Are ye about ready ta head
home, love?"
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She tipped her head back and looked into his eyes. "Aye,"
she said with a cheeky grin. "It's time to put together the
nursery, and I've got to get my resumes in so I can start
interviewing once the baby is born."
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Damn independent
women."
Therese threw her head back and laughed, her long black
hair flowing over her shoulders and around his arm.
She was, and always would be, the most beautiful soul
he'd ever known.
The End
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Author Note
Tarpeian Rock, the place of Wenda's execution, was an
historical place in Rome. While I took some literary license
with the purpose for her execution to enhance the fictional
drama of the romantic story, the real cliff was used for
execution of people found guilty of murder and treason. A [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]