“Oh, Bastien!” I buck up by a similar number of inches, reveling in the double hit of contact that brings. More of my leg against his hard-on, straining between the annoying barriers of our clothes. More of my intimate tunnel around the length of his firm, long finger. “That’s…nice,” I croak out somehow. “Oh, yeah. Really…nice.”
The last part is my stammering effort to encourage more of his verbal finesse. Along with those hefty eighteenth-century dinners, someone must’ve been making those soldiers read up on silky love song lyrics.
“Get these pantaloons gone with glorious haste, woman. I must behold the nirvana of your nude flesh.”
Especially a little ditty like that.
As soon as I hurl aside my yoga bottoms, my moan is punctuated by lightning glare from the window. During the thunder roll that quickly follows, Bastien is quiet. Too quiet for a man who’s kept his fingers buried in my sex this whole time. Who’s kneading me there with matching intensity despite his new attention to the mute button.
It’s bizarre but kind of hot.
Not as hot as the moment he hooks a leg around mine. His hold turns into purchase for his increasingly urgent pushes along my thigh. I turn my hand over on that side, hoping to help him out. Since there’s already a damp splotch in the fabric there, I get immediate friction.
He groans hard. Harder still as he rolls his hips to work more of his magnificent dick into my grip. But he’s already so massive. Too much to wrap fully with my fingers due to the thickness of his breeches.
He doesn’t seem to care. He’s as frantic as me now, chasing his pleasure with urgent pumps into my hand—but still with no words at his lips. Nothing beyond that single moan. Is he even still with me? Or has he finally flown off, nearly two hundred and fifty years into the past, to instead be with Magique? Should I ask him? Or say anything? And what if that answer is yes? Does it change my mind about wanting to surrender to him like this? About wanting to watch him giving in to me? About gazing at the open desire across his face and knowing I was the one who brought him here so far?
About being the one who gets to hold him, even as things go even further.
He’s grinded hard enough now to unseat a button on his breeches. And from the moment I feel even the firm, wet tip of his perfect penis, I long for more. Especially because it’s so easy to get it now.
Two twists of my wrist have him falling into my palm, swollen and hard and huge.
And then his snarl is in my ear, lusty and heavy and bursting.
“Raegan. Oh Raegan.”
Ohhh, yes. Definitely my name.
And ohhh, yes. Now I’m inspired.
I stroke him harder. Longer. Treasuring all the new ways he comes alive beneath my touch. The subtle jerks of arousal. The extra fluid that spurts from his slit and then spreads between my fingers. The clamoring coals in the sac at his base, so entrancing to rub and explore…
“Stop.”
Until he spits that out.
“Wh-What’s wrong? Bast—”
He grabs my hand, pulling me up and away from his cock. He leans deeper over me, sliding the center of his body impossibly closer to the place where he doesn’t want to be.
The place in which he’d fit so perfectly…
“Mierde,” he utters, dropping his head as he pushes up with both arms. “We have to stop.”
Stop, stop, stop.
Don’t, don’t, don’t!
I blink fast as the battle takes new form in my head, with the jukebox taking the cue and switching up—Don’t Stop Me Now—except it’s the London Cast version from the West End show, not the original track with Freddie and his guys. That doesn’t ease the agony of this conflict at all, especially as Bastien battles to do just that. He’s practically in a high plank over me. His shoulders are coiled, his abs are a solid ladder of flexes, and his thighs are shaking. He’s giving me all the time and opportunity to roll away, but I don’t move.
I can’t.
My body is drawn to his like a supersonic magnet—if that’s not really a thing, it should be—needing to be fused to him. Drawn to him by a force beyond understanding. A power, I’m now sure, that permeates more than my body. It lights up every corner of my spirit and soul…perhaps even my heart.
I slide my hands together over the matching part of him. Press them close, right over the center of his chest. My palms are filled with the urgent thrum of the vital organ inside, as if it’s calling to me. Talking to me. Determining the cadence of my own pulse so it can adjust to match.
I’m silent, letting him listen and feel. Searching me out…
And finding me.
I want to find him too. So desperately.
“Bastien.” I roam my hands outward until my fingers are splayed on more of his flesh. This time I grip the expanses of his biceps. “I don’t want to stop.”
His whole body slackens. But not for long. He shifts to one side, pressing his weight onto one bent knee and one braced elbow, while muttering loud enough for me to hear now.
“Dieu aide moi. Neither do I.”
His words are like the release code for more power to the magnets. We’re nuclear, replacing all our reactor cooling rods with the fierce stabs of our tongues into each other’s mouths. It already feels like they’re glowing, so hot and beyond combustible. My defenses are liquified, my logic blasted into ash. No more lingering doubts about where Bastien is either. One steady look into his eyes brings the indelible certainty. He’s right here, ready to breach the dangerous core.
Mine.
And dear God, I want to let him. Yes, right now, just like this, knowing that a huge part of his heart remains with a woman from his own era. Knowing that after he returns to her, I might learn that there’s a special gift he left behind and that I’ll be raising that child by myself.
But being Allie’s sounding board about her family planning with Max has made me think about—and yearn a little—for my own. I’ll be twenty-seven in a few months, and while the big biological clock isn’t deafening yet, I know I want a child sooner than later. Why not a little boy or girl to carry on this man’s beautiful DNA? And why not set myself free to consider it now?
I don’t think about the subject any longer. Not when I can do something better—like act on it.
“Bastien.” It’s barely more than a breath as I wrap my legs around his lean waist. “Do it. Please. I can’t wait any long—oh!”
I shriek it with all the best versions of shock, coinciding with the moment he lunges long and deep into me. I’m fully ready for the union, my core slick with desire and soft with welcome. He moans his appreciation for that with some more erotic things in French. I’m unable to translate, since thinking of words in my own language is impossible right now.
I’m wrapped in a new cloud of lust, body trembling and mind flying. Everything around me is heated passion. Everything inside me is aching pressure. I’m filled to the brim, and yet I ache for more. Bastien’s cock, deeper inside my core. His massive thighs, ramming harder between mine. But most of all, his white-hot desire—calling mine to our ultimate fusion. The place where the magnets totally melt together.
The place called here.
The time called now.
No. Not even that.
Because time has ceased to exist.