Free Timeless Heart by Karyn Gerrard Page B

exposed. If he spoke aloud what he truly
felt, he knew he would be lost.
    So he would try to stay removed emotionally, as
hard as that was. He obviously could not stay removed from her
physically. For each time they made love, he fell deeper. The more
they shared, expressed, spent time together, the more the iron
bands closed about them, enmeshing them almost as one being. It was
bloody frightening, the intensity. He reached and gently lifted a
long strand of her golden hair off her flushed cheek. He did not
think it possible for one to feel so much, in so short a time.
    Time . That was the crux of this whole
thing, after all.
    What flummoxed him even more was what had
happened to the other occupants of the carriage? Why had he alone
traveled through those ribbons in time? Perhaps, he didn't travel
alone, perhaps, the others went into different...ribbons, as
Sandra's science friend hypothesized. He had no other words to
describe what he went through. When lightning struck the carriage,
were they scattered through time? Different places, different
years? Just as a lightning bolt branched, perhaps they did too. Did
they each have a carriage? Wherever or whenever they were, he
silently hoped they found peace and happiness. Those graces so
often sought and too seldom found were elusive in life, as well he
knew. His hand went to his forehead, which he began to rub in
irritation. He was getting a massive headache, as he always did
when he tried to reason out what had happened to him. Perhaps,
this...all this, Sandra included, was a dream. He would awaken in
his own bed, the unfortunate victim of a tragic carriage accident,
where he alone survived. Brought to his home to die. Perhaps, even
now, he was teetering on the threshold of death, the grim reaper
taking great delight in showing him the woman he would never have,
never possess, never love.
    Or maybe, just maybe, all this, Sandra
included, was real. He grunted aloud, his hand reached down for his
hardened cock. This was certainly real. He had been hard and aching
since he arrived here, since that first day he met her. He glanced
at Sandra, she was asleep. Dare he give himself release, with her
laying next to him?
    He closed his eyes and began that familiar
rhythm, one he had used since he sprouted a few hairs on his
bollocks. He knew just how and where to apply pressure, how fast to
thwack it to achieve maximum pleasure. Yes, he did this often.
Almost nightly, whether he had fucked a woman or not. He was of an
amorous nature. That was the polite way to say it. In truth he was
just terribly debauched. He could not deny his base nature. His
hand moved faster, and he bit back a moan on his lips. He could
feel his sac tighten.
    He opened his eyes and glanced at Sandra again.
She was awake, leaning up on her elbow, watching him. Her eyes
almost golden with lust. He stopped, his hand dropped automatically
to his side, his face was flushed. Never had a woman seen him pull
on his cock like this before.
    "Don't stop," she whispered, her voice husky.
"I love it, watching you pleasure yourself. I’ll do the same for
you. Anytime you want, just say the word. To you, or to myself."
She reached over and took his hand, placing it back around his
cock. "Do it. Jerk yourself off, shoot it. Now."
    Oh, sweet Christ .
    "As you command, my dear lady." He threw
himself into 'jerking himself off' as she so deliciously called it.
He gripped his cock, and pulled, slapped, moving his hand faster.
He groaned, moaned and cried out through his clenched teeth. Yes. God, yes. He watched her, as she watched him. It was
incredibly arousing. The muscles in his legs tightened, the cords
in his neck strained. With one final, agonizing, guttural shout, he
climaxed, a violent spurt he had never seen before when he was
alone. Sandra’s eyes, glittering with satisfaction, never left him.
Damme, who was a performing fair animal now? All his previous
thoughts about being a kept man crept back into his mind