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  Pocket Jump

  Juliet Cardin

  Marley is testing a Pocket Jumper for her high-tech company. For just fifteen minutes per jump, she’s able to go back to any point in time she wishes—and what Marley wishes is to have hot sex with rugged, warrior-type men.

  When the Old West cowboy she’s with bears a striking resemblance to the gladiator from Roman times, Marley figures the two must be distant relatives. Then another jump into the distant past brings her face-to-face with a sexy yet familiar caveman…and Marley begins to suspect perhaps her historical lovers aren’t as random as they seem.

  A Romantica® sci-fi erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  POCKET JUMP

  Juliet Cardin

  Chapter One

  “Do you like that m’lord?” Down on my knees, I flicked out my tongue to lick the knight’s cock.

  “Aye.” His face tensed and I detected a slight quiver in his thighs.

  I swirled my tongue around his tip and then sucked him deep into my throat, only to move my head back and gaze up at him innocently. “Are you certain?”

  “Quite.” A droplet of sweat rolled down his cheek and then to his neck, becoming lost beneath his mail-covered gambeson.

  It was a hot summer day. August fifteenth to be exact, year of our Lord 1330, 4:10 in the afternoon. The knight I pleasured was the champion of the day’s tournament.

  I’d watched the last few minutes of the joust in anticipation. This knight unhorsed his opponent on the first pass, winning a bag of gold and my adoration in record time. As soon as I’d seen him remove his helm, I’d wanted him. I’d followed him to his tent and made my intentions clear. Sneeringly he told me to seek my coin elsewhere. He assumed by my peasant gown I was lowborn and not worth his time. If he only knew who I really was, he’d be more than a little shocked.

  Though tempted to slap his arrogant face, once I dropped my simple gown and stood naked before him, he’d accepted my invitation. Ordering his fidgeting squire outside, he’d licked his lips and reached for my tits.

  His cock was huge and despite wanting to tease him mercilessly, I was running low on time, plus, I wanted him inside me—now. He wore several layers of intricate clothing, which I didn’t want to remove, so I turned around and put my head low to the ground. “Take me then, m’lord.”

  I could hear him drop down and maneuver himself behind me. His finger slipped into my pussy, the other hand reaching to fondle my breast. He squeezed my nipple hard while slipping another finger inside me. Soon a third finger joined the others. He let go of my breast and plunged a finger into my ass. Then another.

  “Oh!” I gasped in delight. I wanted him to conquer me thoroughly, as he had his opponent on the field.

  Moments later, he removed his fingers and I felt the head of his cock push against my pussy. In one great thrust he impaled me. There was no playing around with this one. He got about his business quickly, as I’d seen him do on the field. It appeared he was no different in his lovemaking.

  “Take that, wench.” He began to plunge with deep, hard strokes.

  “Yes, m’lord,” I gasped in delight.

  His strong hands gripped my waist while he pumped into me. I wanted him to take my ass as well, but I’d already spent too much time waiting to get him alone.

  He lengthened his strokes, and despite my anxiousness to hurry, my body relished the thorough fucking. What a pleasure it was to be with such a man. A mighty warrior, dangerous and formidable, the ultimate lover. Long had I been subjected to tender loving, soft kisses and gentle caresses. I’d had enough of that. What I wanted, no, needed, was a man who would take me hard. A man who knew I would not break.

  Sounds of the shuffling feet and anxious sighs of the squire just beyond the tent flap made their way to my ears, reminding me that time was of the essence. Even now others knights and squires, not to mention camp harlots, were milling about the grounds preparing for the evening meal. I did not belong here, in this place. Quickly I must take my pleasure or risk exposure.

  Teasingly the knight plunged deep and then slowly withdrew, bringing my thoughts back to this moment, making me bite my lip in anticipation. This here, this primal, lusty act, was my goal.

  “Yes, wench,” he ground out, his fingers tightening their grip. I’d be bruised afterward, but I didn’t care. I wanted his roughness—after all, I had chosen him for his strength. I would savor being sore and aching, well knowing I had been fucked.

  “Please, m’lord. Hurry,” I begged him. Unless he wished to witness something he was ill-equipped to handle.

  “Do not order me.” His forceful strokes accented his words.

  But hurry he must. I bore down on his cock the next time he plunged, squeezing my pussy with all my might. As I knew it would be, it was too much for him to bear. Myself as well. I came as hard as he, our cries escaping the confines of the tent, to the tender ears of the young squire standing guard.

  Expelling his lust all over my backside, the knight stilled for only a moment or two before bracing his hands on my ass to lever himself to his feet. Kneeling, I cleaned myself off with my gown.

  “Leave,” the knight said, his tone arrogant once more. I frowned as a few coins landed beside me in the dirt. I got to my feet unaided and arranged my gown to cover me modestly.

  “Of course.” Not bothering with any parting banter despite the intimacy we had shared, I slipped out of his tent, leaving his coins where they lay.

  “Wait.” I heard him holler. I ignored him and made a beeline for the woods, right past his anxious squire. “Stupid girl,” the knight yelled. Sights and sounds, both tantalizing and wonderful, filled my eyes and ears. I craved to linger, to stay just a while longer, but I had no time to waste. I’d had my fun and now must make my escape.

  I cleared the cover of the woods just in the nick of time.

  Then I vanished.

  At least that’s how it would appear to anyone here in this century. There was a flash of blue smoke, gone in a smidgen of a second. Next a swirling, tumbling sensation before I materialized in 2020, my time, landing in the middle of my bedroom floor.

  It took a moment for me to adjust. After several deep breaths I walked over to the mirror and stood before it. I looked the same, albeit disheveled. Long dark hair, terribly knotted, and sparkling green eyes. A large, well-satisfied smile played on my lips. Sometimes I expected I’d return a little taller, or shorter, though I still appeared the same, five foot four. The dress I wore had been bang on. It paid to do research. It was all about fitting in. Other languages were my specialty, so I learned enough to get by before I left, although my accent might be a little strange. I’d heard of a guy who nearly lost his life because he failed to appear convincing enough. I dropped my gown to the floor and headed for the shower, grinning as I went. Who’d have known that one of the greatest inventions known to mankind—or perhaps womankind—could be such fun?

  The Pocket Jumper allowed a person to slip back in time for a total of fifteen minutes. Just long enough to observe or slightly experience life without causing any damage to the time continuum.

  And I was all about the experience.

  The hot water caressed my aching, tender skin. I discovered bruises dotting my hips, faintly, in the image of fingers splayed wide. This made me smile. Battle wounds they were. Hard fought and won, they showed I’d been the victor in the past and now reaped the rewards of the well-sated in the future.

  Once out of the shower I padded to my bed like a Cheshire cat, climbed in and slipped beneath the covers. On my nightstand were a notepad and a pen. I picked up both and crossed Medieval Knight off my list. Next on the agenda was Gladiator.

  List aside, I settled in for a nice, long sleep.

  Tomorrow would be a busy day. />
  Chapter Two

  “I don’t think I want to wear a toga,” I said to the lady in the costume shop the next afternoon. “I do like the sandals though.” The picture in the book I held showed a woman wearing a beautiful white gown, gold belt, sandals and a circlet of golden flowers in her upswept hair.

  “When’s the party?” the lady asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “You’re leaving it kind of late. If I had more time I could order something in.”

  “It was a last-minute idea,” I said, debating my choices. It was the toga or a Roman slave tunic. Perhaps I could refashion the toga somehow to look more authentic?

  At home I laid out the book and got to work with an old-fashioned needle and thread. A few tweaks and the garment was ready. I tried it on and stood before my mirror. Yes, with my hair up and the adornments of the belt and hair accessories it’d be perfect. I’d opted to dress as a highborn Roman lady instead of a slave, figuring it’d be easier to maneuver around that way. Not to mention gain access to the gladiators. Once my hair was styled and dressed up and I’d slipped on the sandals and belt, I reached for the Pocket Jumper.

  If my company only knew I was using their precious device to jump around time screwing warrior-type men, I’d probably be fired. I’m pretty sure it’s not what they had in mind when they handed out the Pocket Jumper to a select few of us to try out for the week. We were expected to travel around time and then return to work the following Monday with a written report on our experiences and any suggestions or comments. They planned to mass-produce the device for public use, but I’d seen a government official sniffing around the office and I got the feeling they were going to confiscate it before that happened. If I wanted to have fun with this thing, it had to be now.

  Images began swirling on the small screen of the Pocket Jumper as I spun the date timer to Ancient Rome. I slowed it down to scan a wide view of the area and then zeroed in on a large amphitheater for the location. I paused, seeing a fight ensue between two gladiators. This was when I wanted, now I just needed to find the exact where I wanted.

  I flipped the Set switch on and laid the device down on the bedside table. It directed a beam of thin light out of its side, which stretched and widened into a hazy blue bubble projecting a larger version of the picture window scene. Now I had a good view of the event taking place. I couldn’t appear in the ring and risk getting caught in the fight, not to mention freaking out the people in the stands, so I moved about the amphitheater using my hands in a swimming motion to steer the picture bubble. I was looking for a place close to where the gladiators would be kept. Time was of the essence, so I needed to be near, but safe as well. I found an alcove below the stands, inconspicuous enough for my purpose. I took another sweep of the area, making sure it was secure. Then I took a deep breath and stepped into the bubble and back through time.

  The Pocket Jumper remained in the future. No matter where I moved back in time, it would track me and bring me home in exactly fifteen minutes. It was practically foolproof. There was the risk of trouble though. Once transported, I was as vulnerable as anyone else in that time. If I got hurt, or even killed, I would still be brought back in fifteen minutes. No matter what I was doing. Even if I was still in the throes of passion. Luckily the device would only bring me back, and nothing or no one else. It also wouldn’t bring back any DNA from another time, so worrying about pregnancy and STDs wasn’t a problem. If I’d hoped to come back pregnant with a king’s offspring and lay claim to a fortune in this time, it wouldn’t happen. If I thought to steal, it wouldn’t work. Only what I brought through with me would return.

  My feet landed firmly on the wooden platform in one of the many passageways built beneath the amphitheater. The jump itself was painless, while somewhat jarring. I felt slightly dizzy and short of breath for a moment or two. The smell was usually the first thing that hit me. Strange scents would assault my nose, sometimes overwhelmingly. Right now I could smell a combination of sweat and blood. Overhead, the crowd thumped their feet and shouted their pleasure or displeasure at those in the ring—it was hard to tell the difference. A fine layer of dust floated down from above and swirled around the air. The fighting continued, providing a distraction for me to continue on my quest.

  After a quick peek to make sure the coast was clear, I stepped out into the main underground corridor, which was wide enough for man or beast to pass through with ease. My heart beat with excitement and a little fear. I walked along, soaking up the atmosphere, in wonder and awe at the sensations coursing through my body. Life in my time was predictable and safe. The past worlds I entered were the complete opposite. Back in time, life was so precarious, making it all the more precious.

  Guards ahead milled about as I approached the vicinity where they kept the gladiators. I stiffened my back and strode toward them, giving a nod at the barred double doors, indicating I wished to enter. I was not challenged or questioned as they opened one for me. I slipped through and the door was quickly shut behind me. More guards lined the walkway. If I happened to make eye contact, I merely nodded in acknowledgement, wishing to draw as little attention to myself as possible. Thankfully no one spoke to me. My limited knowledge of Latin and Greek, not to mention my weird accent, might be a dead giveaway that I didn’t belong here.

  On either side of me were several stalls, like in a stable, although the primitive slats of wood went all the way to the ceiling. Heavy padlocks kept the thick wooden doors secure so the occupants could not escape. I peered between the cracks into each stall, inspecting as I went, and saw that some contained more than one man. Not all of them were guarded. It surprised me that I wasn’t jeered at or catcalled as I strolled along.

  At the end of the hall I approached an unguarded stall and saw that a lone man lay within on a bed of straw. He appeared to be resting as he lay still and sweating on his back, one muscular arm thrown over his head, the other bent over his eyes. He was very large and strong, and no doubt dangerous. He probably hadn’t enjoyed a woman in a long while. I licked my lips in anticipation.

  He was the one, I decided. Now all I needed to do was get into the cell and convince him of that.

  Chapter Three

  “Guard,” I called out, catching the attention of the closest one. Scowling, he came forward and I indicated I wished to enter the stall. He merely nodded and unlocked the door. I supposed it wasn’t uncommon for a lone woman to stroll into the bowels of the amphitheater and ask to be left alone with a giant gladiator. Perhaps he thought the masculine beast was my property?

  I entered within and heard the guard stomp his booted feet impatiently. “Leave us,” I said, my eyes never straying from my quarry. The door swung shut, banging against its hinges, and a click of the lock sounded, indicating I was locked inside. My body gave an involuntary shiver—of fear or excitement, I wasn’t certain. Both perhaps? The guard’s footsteps echoed down the passageway, letting me know I was truly alone with a man who could snap me in two with his bare hands. Alas, the giant still lay quiet, either unaware of my presence or not concerned.

  My gaze skimmed about the enclosure and soaked in the bare bones of humanitarian comforts. Animals in my time, and even well before, enjoyed better comfort than what this man and others like him endured now. If this was how they treated their champions, I could only imagine how lower-class slaves fared.

  The gladiator was mostly bare, revealing a massive, sun-bronzed chest. His sandy-blond hair lay about his wide shoulders. His legs stretched out long. Only his hips were covered by what looked to be a leather miniskirt.

  He was sexy as hell.

  As I stood there staring at him, it occurred to me he might be sleeping and not merely resting. Perhaps he wouldn’t be up for what I had in mind? Then again, I’d never heard of a man who was too tired to fuck. I cleared my throat, hoping to get his attention. When that didn’t work I leaned down toward him and said, “Hello?”

  That did it. He jolted a little as though startled and pulle
d his arm away from his face. He cracked an eye at me and I smiled enticingly. Looking less than thrilled at my presence, he gave a great sigh and began to rise.

  “No!” I came forward and knelt at his side. “Don’t get up.” I splayed my hands on his chest. He was so warm, and the curling hairs on his body were soft. He stared at me with dazzling blue eyes, clearly confused about what I wanted. I leaned forward and kissed him, feeling his breath against my face as he shrank back and gasped in surprise. Harder, I pressed on, allowing no escape, then sought out his tongue to battle with mine.

  Though I felt his arms shift about, he did not touch me.

  Time was of the essence and I wanted him to conquer me as the last warrior had. I broke the kiss. “You may touch me,” I told him, getting a cheap thrill over telling him what to do.

  His arms came up around me as I slipped my tongue back into his mouth. Though he could no doubt crush me if he wished, his grip was gentle. From where I knelt I had easy access to his cock. My lips never leaving his, I reached beneath his leather skirt and grasped him in my hand. He was thick and hard as steel, a mighty weapon I hoped he would wield with skill.

  I kissed a trail down his chest and then used both hands to raise his skirt so I could put my lips to his cock. He gasped again as I licked down his shaft and then took his tip into my mouth.

  If there were time, I would pleasure him for hours. His body was so beautifully sculpted, a glorious piece of art. What would it be like to have him at my mercy like this every day? If I were truly a Roman lady—a Domina, I believe they were called—I would enjoy the pleasure of his company whenever I wished. I savored the feel of him against my lips and tongue, and imagined for a few precious seconds lying back and commanding him to come forward and pleasure me. He would be completely mine, to do with as I wished. I would be in charge. I smiled and licked down the length of him, knowing that even then it’d only be a matter of time—Domina or not—before he’d have me begging and crying out beneath him. I could spend endless minutes daydreaming of a different kind of life, a life spent in the arms of such a man, one filled with danger, intrigue and passion, but alas, I knew if I wanted him inside me I must hurry.