Lust In Time

By Amarinda Jones

“Bloody hell! Where am I?” One minute Arabella Smith had been lying in her nice warm bed, book in hand, listening to the winter wind howling outside her bedroom window in her suburban Brisbane home and the next she was...well...where? “I have no idea.” Arabella sat up quickly and looked around her. Nothing looked at all familiar. Uh-oh, Huston, we have a problem. This was not her home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarlet Harlot Publishing
• Release date: Feb 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465910776

Amarinda Jones

Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your arse, but after all, that's what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch that all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.

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Published by Amarinda Jones at Smashwords

www.amarindajones.com

Copyright© 2012 Amarinda Jones

Cover Artist: Amarinda Jones

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Authors Note

There is an actual book called The Border Shepherdess. It was written by an author called Amelia E Barr.  The copy I have is a first edition that was published in 1887 by a company called James Clarke & Co, Fleet Street, London. I believe it cost me all of one dollar. Like my heroine Arabella, I love books and can never pass any second hand bookstore without buying one or a dozen. My copy of The Border Shepherdess is signed in ink in very neat handwriting - Amy Maud Robjohns February 23rd  1888. Inside there is a yellowed piece of newsprint cut to the size of a bookmark entitled Methodist Social Afternoon. It lists who attended, who sang and who recited poetry to entertain the gathering. Although Amy Maud is not listed as attending the festivities I like to think there was a special reason why she cut that piece especially out of the newspaper and put it in the book. Maybe there was a man she loved or maybe not but it’s fun to speculate on what might have been.

Prologue

Arabella Smith pulled the clothes hurriedly from her body and stood before the man naked and willing. Nothing parted them now and nothing could stop them. This was meant to be. She had been dreaming about this moment for weeks. She was hot and shaking with need and it both frightened and excited her. It was like a hungry, clawing feeling deep inside of her that she knew only he could fill. Arabella was aware their time was limited and she wanted to make every second count no matter what the cost.

What’s your name? Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely speak. It seemed crazy that she stood before him naked and wet with wanting and she did not know his name—yet it did not matter as her need for him was so much more important. She craved this man with a desperation she was unaware she possessed.

My name is Garrett and I knew you would come to me, honey. Garrett wrenched his shirt off and pulled down his trousers. His cock stood hard and club-like against his stomach. He smiled as Arabella licked her lips in anticipation.

I had no other choice. She moved to where he stood and reached out to touch his straining shaft. It  was so hard and so large. There was so much contained power pulsating under the velvet smooth skin. She longed to have it buried up to the hilt inside her. I need you, Garrett.

And you shall have me. Garrett pulled Arabella into his arms and kissed her deeply and passionately until they were both panting with overwhelming need. His lips slid down to her breast and he licked her taut pink nipples.

Arabella shrieked in pleasure at the suction of his mouth on her breasts. She clutched his head to her body and ran her hands through his ash blond hair. 

Oh how  I  love  you,  Garrett,  she  moaned  fervently.  She  did  not  realise  until  that moment how much she loved this stranger. How could that be? Yet Arabella did—somehow. She adored everything about  this man from his scratchy stubble against her breast to his powerful shoulder and his hard cock jumping  impatiently up against her stomach seeking entrance to her body.

Oh honey, I love you too and we will be together forever soon. I promise, Garrett vowed against her lips.

Take me now, she demanded in a soft urgent whisper. I need something to remember you by. Arabella dropped to her hands and knees and stuck her arse up in the air beckoning him onwards. Please, Garrett. She ached with an intense desire to be filled.

I know I shouldn’t do this. It isn’t part of my plan, he muttered to himself as if trying to justify what he longed to do. I want to court you properly, Arabella, but this is happening all too quickly. He ran an agitated hand through his hair as if he fought the desire that raged inside him. I wanted this to be about seduction.

I don’t need seduction. I just need you, Garrett. Arabella barely recognised her own voice. It was so hot and thick with passion.

You are going to be angry with me later. The look in his eyes was that of a man who had been given an opportunity that was too good to pass up.

Arabella moaned softly in relief as she felt him slide down behind her. The heat of his body against hers was intoxicating. She pushed herself back against him. His cock prodded the cleft of her arse eagerly. She had never felt so wild and free in her life. She loved this man and she wanted this man. It was simple.

Now Garrett…please,  she  insisted,  her  voice  ragged  with  need.  Arabella  stiffened suddenly as his cock slid inside the wet core of her vagina for the first time. Was it really their first time? It felt so right, so true. No other lover had affected her so.

Oh honey, you feel so good and tight, Garrett growled as he started to thrust in and out of her body. His hands grabbed her breasts and caressed them gently.

The heat and the friction of his cock inside her would be her undoing, she just knew it. Her head began to pound as the orgasm started to build up inside her. Arabella felt dizzy as sensation overwhelmed her.

 Garrett pounded hard, knowing their moment was slipping away. He smiled as Arabella came with a scream. He knew she would never forget him. They were two halves of a whole that had found one another. Dream or no dream, what was happening between them was very real.

Never let go of the book, honey, when the time comes it will bring you to me. Garrett came hard and fast inside her.

No, I’ll never let go, Arabella murmured as a wild kaleidoscope of colours started to shoot through her mind. What book…Garrett? She collapsed on the floor in a dead faint.

Chapter One

Bloody hell! Where am I? One minute Arabella Smith had been lying in her nice warm bed, book in hand, listening to the winter wind howling outside her bedroom window in her suburban Brisbane home and the next she was…well…where? I have no idea. Arabella sat up quickly and looked around her. Nothing  looked at all familiar. Uh-oh, Huston, we have a problem. This was not her home.

Oh bugger, Arabella cursed as her head spun woozily. She placed her hands on either side of her suddenly weakened body. Her mind registered the feel of wood under her hands. Polished wood in fact—interesting. She looked down at the floor then at her hands. Yes, they were definitely her hands with their black polished nails. And that was definitely a wooden floor. The book she had been reading was beside  her on that wooden floor. Arabella felt a sudden involuntary shiver run through her body. There was a definite problem here. She did not have polished wooden floors in her house. All her floors were covered in  ugly cream carpet that was incredibly hard to keep clean. She looked up slowly, her stomach still churning from  something she had experienced but could not name at the moment. She was in what looked like a kitchen. But it wasn’t her kitchen.

Holy shit, Batman. What was going on?

We have another one, sister. An animated female voice chortled in excitement.

A woman smiled down at Arabella. She in turn looked back at her blankly as she tried to work out what the hell was going on and why anyone should be so excited to find a stranger wandering  into  their  home.  And  then  it  suddenly  dawned  on  Arabella.  She  slapped  her forehead in realisation.

Oh fuck, that’s it! I was sleepwalking. That could be the only reason that she was lying in  her  pyjamas  on  some  stranger’s  floor.  How  embarrassing!  I  am  sorry,  ladies,  for  the intrusion. She  only  ever  did  the  sleepwalking  thing  when  she  was  under  great  stress. Unemployment  was  her  greatest  stressor  at  the  moment  hence  the  reason  she  had  gone walkabout. Thankfully she wasn’t naked like the last time and this wasn’t the local park. The police had found her wandering in a daze. At least now, if everyone kept calm, the cops would not have to get involved and that would be  a good thing as she doubted her excuse would seem credible a second time.

Arabella looked at the two women who came to stand before her. They were initially fuzzy to her unfocused eyes. As her vision cleared she noticed that their smiles were kind and their eyes gentle and welcoming. Excellent—they were not pissed off about her crashing their home. Arabella looked at them dazedly. They did however look odd to her dry, gritty eyes. There  was  friendship  and  welcome  evident  in  their  faces  but  something  was  not  right. Arabella looked from one woman to the other. Both were dressed so oddly. Were they wearing full length nightgowns? Or were they just floor length dresses made of—what  was  that? Muslin? Who made dresses out of muslin any more, especially ones with such pretty lace collars? Lace collars?

Arabella’s mind was feverishly trying to make sense out of what she was seeing. Their hair was neatly coiled up on their heads and she could just make out the neat row of buttons on their leather boots. Buttons on boots? Her eyes flashed from their feet to the room she was in. It was an old-fashioned kitchen. No mod cons. An old stove, no fridge, cast iron pots and there was a calendar on the wall. Okay, so they were not renovators. The kitchen reminded her of a pioneer village recreation she had visited once. It also had a kerosene powered ice box in the corner. Okay so they were weird history freaks. Arabella could handle that.  Everyone had their quirks. Her plan was to give her apologies and then leave with as much dignity as one could in bright pink, blue butterfly-patterned flannelette pyjamas.

Hello dear, don’t get up. Just rest until the nausea passes. Aggie, get her some water, one woman said as she bent and grasped one of Arabella’s hands gently.

Arabella looked at the beautiful cameo at her throat and the watch that was pinned to her bodice. Weird. Then it occurred to her what was going on. 

This is a dream—oh duh! That’s what this was about. Now it was all making sense to Arabella. Granted the wind no longer rattled at the window panes and she was not in her own home but she knew the reason why. Technically she was still asleep in her own bed but she was caught up in a dream. And what a dream! It had it all—a gorgeous man, hot sex and a young fair-haired woman who needed her help. Who exactly the man was or why she had to help the woman, she did not know. All she could recollect were vague impressions of faces, of smiles and a hot hard male body that made her wet with need. And he had a  phenomenal cock. Where was the man with the cock now? When was he coming back into her dream?

Arabella smiled as she thought about him. He was the same one she had seen in her dreams for weeks yet never before had he come so close to her that she could see or feel his cock. He had always just hovered at the edge of her dream beckoning her ever closer until she gave in and went to him.

I would have gone earlier if I had known about the cock, Arabella murmured softly to herself. Just after the man with the cock had taken her she remembered seeing crazy colours and shapes spinning wildly almost as if they were keeping pace with the ferocity of the wind howling outside. Then the wind had been inside tearing at her body until as suddenly as the colours came they cleared, the force on her body lessened and the room snapped to a sudden stop at the same time as the wind did. And now she was having a dream about two women in an old kitchen. Nowhere near as interesting as the man with the cock. Arabella closed her eyes tightly and tried to will him back to her dream. But he wasn’t going to come back. The one thing that did come to her mind was a book.

Where is my book? Arabella asked in a daze. She had been reading a novel when she fell asleep. It  was important to her for some reason but for the life of her she could not remember why.

It’s here, dear, replied a kindly voice.

Arabella reached out and took the volume. For dream people they seemed awfully real. She had been told before she had a great imagination—usually when she was lying her arse off to get out of trouble. She looked down at the tome in her hand.  She had the book both before her dream and in her dream. She had a feeling it was important to her.  There was something more about this than just a novel to be read. Whew! Weird-arsed dream, this one. She sniffed the air. What was that smell? A  cake baking? Arabella looked up at the woman who was patting her hand so soothingly and then around the kitchen she was in. She spotted a calendar on the wall. July. Okay, at least that was a good sign. The