Daring Time (10 page)

He used his fingers to spread her slit as best he could. He felt her shaking beneath his hand. Should he wait for this? Restrain himself until a time where he could hold her, soothe her?

He pressed his cock against her waiting glory. He couldn't wait. If it truly was his objective to hold her in his arms ... to protect her, then he needed to fuel the fires of their desire.

Now.

He gasped raggedly when the tip of his cock penetrated her tight slit. Her heat resonated into him. Hope started in shock, but Ryan I was glad to see when she met his gaze in the mirror that excitement twined with her amazement. Realizing he should test the limits of his luck, Ryan tried to reach with his other hand. Although the glass gave beneath his fingers as though it were made of pliable elastic, the barrier held firm.

He could only be grateful for Hope's obvious fearlessness, because it was going to take some effort and patience to work his cock into her snug vagina. He took a deep breath, trying to muster his restraint.

But then Hope pressed back against the mirror. Ryan groaned, his eyes rolling back into his hetad when the head of his cock slid into her sublime heat. He popped her bottom once with his palm in warning, not to be cruel. He needed her to realize how hard this was for him. His control had never been so sorely tested.

She stared at him, biting her lower lip when it trembled.

"You want it so much?" Ryan mouthed slowly.

She nodded.

"Witch," he muttered before he held her hip steady and sunk his cock into her humid heat another few inches. She tightened around him; he suspected the instinctive clenching of her muscles was in protest to his presence but he'd never felt anything so welcoming. He groaned gutturally. Fuck, it felt good. She squeezed him in a silken, muscular fist.

God, he needed to get
in there.
He tensed his leg and ass muscles, ready to claim more of her. But then he focused on Hope's face. It was pinched with a mixture of desire and discomfort.

"Shhhh," he soothed, forgetting she couldn't hear him. "Try to relax. It's going to be so good, honey. Please believe me."

He pulled his cock out a fraction of an inch and slid back into her, stroking her with tiny, electrical pulsations. Her muscular walls writhed and tightened around him with each stroke, making him grind his teeth as his restraint diminished with alarming speed. He held Hope's wide-eyed stare and reached around to find her clit with his fingers. He saw her lower lip drop.

Jesus he wanted to hear her scream.

He found he needed to be firm in his strokes to make any progress into her wet, clinging walls, but he tried his best to be gentle. He was less delicate with his fingers on her clit, rubbing and circling, plucking and gliding. She pushed back against the barrier of the mirror, her buttocks pressing tightly against the glass. Ryan glanced down at the bizarre, highly arousing site of his cock as it sunk into the mirror to mid-staff .. . into Hope's pussy to mid-staff.

He checked her face again, seeing that her cheeks were once again the livid pink he'd come to associate with incipient climax. He pressed his cock further into her, piercing her gripping, tight tunnel, moaning harshly at the immensity of the pleasure that tore through his body. His mouth twisted into a snarl. Hope started and stiffened, her body momentarily resisting him, but Ryan raised his hand and gripped her hip tightly, holding her into place while he withdrew his cock and sunk back into her pussy using the same insistent but controlled strokes.

When he felt her begin to move against him, pushing his shaft further into her heat with each small thrust, he released her hip and dipped his finger between her drenched labia once again, stimulating her. Her pussy clamped around his cock. Ryan looked up. Her head was still turned but her chin rested on her shoulder. He studied her rigid features turned in profile and knew she was about to explode.

He thrust hard at the same moment that the first wave of orgasm hit her, shouting out uncontrollably at the sensation of being buried in her sweet, tight flesh to the hilt while she quivered around him in release. Her clinging sheath milked him as she came, the resulting shivers that crept up his spine making him think he'd reached the limit of his control and was about to come deep inside her.

The realization dismayed him. He'd promised himself not to come inside her. Dammit, why hadn't he thought to use a condom? Women in the year 1906 didn't have birth control pills at their disposal. Regular condom use was such an ingrained habit for Ryan, he could only figure that the quality of miraculous otherworldliness to his encounters with Hope had been the reason he hadn't automatically reached for a condom before he'd single-mindedly looked into the mirror tonight.

He clenched his eyes shut and endured the most intense version of blissful agony he'd ever experienced in his life as Hope's heat gushed around him and her pussy squeezed his cock ruthlessly.

Sweat poured off his abdomen. He panted like he'd just sprinted the last leg of a marathon. When the exquisite torture of being buried in the midst of Hope's fires waned, Ryan pried open his eyelids. He stroked her hip softly before he took her in a firm grip.

He flexed his muscles and began to thrust in and out of her with short strokes. He grunted in satisfaction when he realized that the barrier between them had thinned sufficiently for him to hear his hips smacking against her thighs and ass with each downstroke of his cock. He wanted to caress her bottom more than anything, but she was so tight he required a firm hold on her body. He tried once again to penetrate the mirror with his other hand, growling in frustration when he was once again rebuffed.

His eyebrows drew together in confusion when Hope turned as fully as she could and he saw surprise in the dark pools of her eyes. If he'd needed any further evidence that she'd been a virgin until tonight, he'd just got it in spades. Her lower lips dropped open in aroused incredulity while he pumped into her more forcefully. She might have thought she understood the mechanics of intercourse, but this gorgeous, amazing woman clearly just now comprehended what it meant to be fucked.

But just as in all things, it was best she learned the lesson right off the bat, Ryan thought as he held her gaze and jackhammered his cock into her.

He saw her cheeks flush even redder. It may have been a new experience for her but she was a quick learner. She bucked her hips in perfect synchrony to his driving thrusts, creating a burning friction along his cock that made his eyes roll back in his head.

"Fuck,"
he sputtered in desperation when he felt Hope start to convulse around his pummeling cock yet again. His eyes sprang open in disbelief but the evidence of her immense cache of sensuality was writ large on her strained, beautiful face.

Ryan wondered briefly what would be most painful: plunging a knife into his own flesh or jerking his cock out of Hope's clamping vagina at that moment. He roared as he erupted in a scalding climax. His consciousness was temporarily engulfed by the fiery blasts of pleasure that wracked his mind and body.

But when he gained a measure of awareness he realized that he held Hope's smooth, firm hips with both hands, his fingers digging demandingly into the soft flesh as he continued to shoot his seed on her lower back and in the crevice of her ass.

When she suddenly started and tried to stand, he held her tightly, consumed by the most powerful orgasm he'd ever experienced.

"Don't. . .don't move, honey," he grated out as he shuddered violently. He pressed his spasming cock more tightly to her satiny, warm flesh. He gasped for air as a measure of sanity sluggishly wormed its way into overwhelming pleasure. He was touching Hope with both hands.

Step through. Now,
he told himself.

Ryan lifted a foot in preparation to do just that—to step into Hope Stillwater's world in the year 1906—when her struggling against his hold penetrated his awareness more fully.

"What the hell?" he muttered in rising confusion when she twisted in his hands. Had he harmed her in the mindless midst of his orgasm? He automatically released her, stunned and alarmed by the wildness of Hope's actions ... by the wretchedness of her expression when she spun to face him.

EIGHT

Hope had never imagined anything like it in her life.

As much as she'd wanted to join with Ryan, doubts had swamped her in all directions when he'd pushed his thick, throbbing member into her body. He stretched her delicate tissues, overfilled her until Hope had become desperate.

It hurt.

But then it didn't hurt. It just burned. Soon she'd been shuddering in climax yet again and Ryan pressed to the very core of her. She'd been shocked when he began thrusting his penis in and out of her, having no idea this was how things were done.

It was as if he kindled a fire inside of her with the friction of their rubbing flesh. The burning, tingling sensation had escalated until she felt it in the strangest places: her flaming cheeks, her throbbing nipples and the soles of her feet.

She knew what it was to climax, but this was different. This sensation was even more imperative. The fat, delineated head of Ryan's penis rubbed somewhere she could never hope to reach, a place that made fire shoot up into her belly, created a sizzling sensation in that piece of flesh Ryan had stimulated with his finger and even tingled at the tail of her spine. It was unbearable, wonderful... so mandatory to her very existence she'd thought she'd die from the sheer physical necessity of reaching that divine pinnacle so she could fall gloriously.

He held her in a steadfast grip and plunged into her ruthlessly. She loved it.
Needed
it.

She closed her eyes and cried out sharply as she reached the peak of her desire .. . and tipped over into sheer bliss. Her entire body vibrated in an electrical storm of pure pleasure that completely stole her very identity for a blinding moment.

She gasped wildly for air, her eyes opening wide at the sensation of Ryan jerking his penis out of the tight embrace of her body. Her heartbeat hammered so loud in her ears she couldn't at first differentiate the separate sound of someone pounding on her bedroom door.

Her panting ceased, her breath burning in her lungs. Ryan's heavy, swollen member thumped onto her lower back. He held her with both hands as pleasure shuddered through him, his penis spasming next to her skin. Mrs. Abernathy called out worriedly as Ryan's hot seed spurted along her spine.

"Miss Stillwater. Miss.Stillwater! Are you all right?"

Hope choked back an instinctive cry of wonder at the sensation of Ryan climaxing—all that awesome fierceness exploding in a single moment of concentrated power.

"I—I, yes, I'm fine, Mrs. Abernathy," she called breathlessly. Ryan shifted his hips, causing his still spasming penis to press deeper between the cheeks of her bottom. Mrs.

Abernathy knocked again. Dear God, she
had
locked the door, hadn't she? Her heart resumed beating when she saw the knob turn but the door remained stationary.

"Come quickly, dear. It's your father. He fell in his den. He's quite ill."

Hope tried to stand in rising alarm, whimpering softly when Ryan held her tightly, still in the midst of his release. Her father's health had not been good recently. He was having increasing periods of fatigue and exhaustion.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ryan," she whispered desperately as she once again tried to stand. Her mother had died of a particularly savage form of influenza when Hope was a child of twelve, and she was quite anxious about her father's health as a result.

Nothing else could have made her move away from Ryan at that moment.

"I'm coming, Mrs. Abernathy," she called loudly. "Please send someone to get Dr.

Walkerton!"

"I already have, dear. Hurry now. He's asking for you," Mrs. Abernathy called through the door, the slight trace of condemnation spicing her tone causing Hope to struggle more forcefully in Ryan's hold.

Ryan must have finally sensed her rising panic because he released her abruptly.

He'd held her with
both
hands, she thought miserably as she spun around. Even though they lived in different centuries, they'd breached the barrier. They'd been
so close
to being able to touch and speak to one another at will.

She stared into the empty mirror. Even though her flesh still tingled in the aftermath of ecstasy and Ryan's seed was still warm on her back and where it pooled in the crack of her bottom, Hope was utterly, completely alone.

She stifled a sob of anguish as she knelt to retrieve her forgotten robe.

Hope fastened her lined forest green plush coat while Mary stood waiting with her muffler and hat. It would be chilly as she made her usual rounds at the Central Station, but the cold Chicago weather had never put off Hope in the past. This afternoon she was more worried about her father, although Dr. Walkerton had proclaimed after his examination last night that Jacob Stillwater would be fine.

"He's just been working too hard, that's all," Dr. Walkerton had explained to Hope last night as she anxiously hovered by her fa-ther's bedside.

"But, Dr. Walkerton—"

"He has an upper respiratory infection, Miss Stillwater. Nothing more. Jacob needs several days of quiet and rest and he'll be as good as new," Dr. Walkerton had interrupted with his calm, authoritative manner. He'd given Hope a sidelong glance, letting her know that he realized she thought of her mother's death thirteen years before.

"How is he?" Hope asked presently when Michael approached. She had asked her father's manservant to go and check on her father and report to her before she left on her almost daily missions to Central Station and later to Hull House. Her father had laughed and rolled his eyes earlier when she told him of her intention to stay home because of his bout of dizziness last night. Nevertheless, Hope had put off her errands in order to see how he fared after his midday meal.

"He is doing very well, miss, and was up reading by the fire when I left him just now."