Daring Time by Beth Kery

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.