Page 41 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

Alessandra intensifies the impression with a defined shift forward. Her lips purse. Her breathing quickens. She is, even in her modern pantaloons and unbound hair, the epitome of feminine perfection. A stunning, sensual contrast with the pastoral scene below.

“It’s a place for…escape.” She pushes in tighter, stealing my breath with her opulent curves, her decadent gaze, her spice-and-fruit scent. She intoxicates me. Captivates me. Utterly and wholly beguiles me. Is it any wonder that she was the force that pulled me through time? Is it also any wonder that I care not if witchcraft made it happen?

“An escape.” My repetition is a taut croak, but I care not. “From…what?”

“Not from.” Her emphasis is also throaty. “It’s an escape into.”

I swallow hard. She captures the motion beneath her nipping lips, trailing them up the column of my neck. “An escape into…what?”

“Into freedom.” She suckles the underside of my jaw. “Into fire.” Adds a pair of defined kisses. “Into exposure.”

I am a mass of awakening and thrills, of wanting and waiting, of freedom and fire. “Ex…posure,” I repeat, though can hardly hear myself. The carnal hum in my senses is like a thousand singing cicadas.

“Do you want me to expose you, Maximillian? And let you expose me too?”

Good Christ. How she knows exactly what to say to me. Where to ignite me. And precisely how to look at me after she does. Desire is a conflagration in her eyes. Lust is a rosy sheen on her pursed lips.

My blood roars. My cock jerks. I kick up one side of my mouth. When Alessandra emulates the look, I thank every saint I can remember.

She knows what I am going to do to her.

And how I follow through, seizing her close and smashing my mouth to hers.

Hard.

Deeply.

Thoroughly.

To the point that she grips me desperately. Surrenders her melting body to me. And then groans with beautiful abandon as I stab my tongue even farther. She widens her mouth for me—the only invitation I need to make my invasion ruthless. I crush her lips without softness, needing to fuse her to me. To get inside every inch of her fascinating, captivating beauty.

She pants as I greedily stroke her beguiling swells. All of them. The fullness of her breasts. The lushness of her waist. The roundness of her hips. Perfection. This woman is sheer luxury and sensuality and perfection…

“Max,” she breathes.

“Ma revelation.”

She returns a sweet, high hum as I grip harder, better aligning her heated core against the ridge of my cock. As strange as this era is, I am supremely thankful for its effortless clothing and thin materials.

“You feel as good as I remember,” she whispers into my chest. She hitches her hips, clearly seeking more friction between our bodies.

“Jesu,” I finally husk. “Do not stop. Do not stop.”

As she obeys the mandate to the last syllable, my blood heats like liquid gold. My thighs lock. My buttocks clench. Air pumps in and out of my nose. I sound like a damn bull while struggling for a semblance of romance with a gentler kiss. Alessandra accepts my tenderness for all of three seconds. On the fourth, she tangles her fingers into my hair and pulls me down for a brutal embrace.

Our lips mash. Our moans mesh. Our mouths battle and bruise each other.

And I am done.

Consumed.

Torched by fires I have not experienced since Kavia first cast her bizarre spell on me. Sending me to my fated gateway. The destiny for which I was ultimately created.

To be with this woman. To take her body and soul to the stars, over and over and over again. With Alessandra, even the illicit seems possible. Yes, even in this high spire. Perhaps especially here, wrapped in wind and embraced by the sky, where the world stretches out as a modern tapestry and giant machines defy gravity…

Where maybe—yes here and yes now—we can dare to make time stand still.

With our connection. Our passion. Our consummation.