Nick of Time Read online
Nick of Time
A writer with a deadline she'd like to ignore finds a welcome diversion when her best friend calls and their conversation unexpectedly moves from playfulness to passion. A Radclyffe erotic short story.
Previously published in Fantasy: Untrue Stories of Lesbian Passion, ed. B. Johnson and T. Szymanski (Bella Books, 2007).
Table of Contents
Nick of Time
Acclaim for Radclyffe’s Fiction
Applause for L.L. Raand’s Midnight Hunters Series
By Radclyffe
Nick of Time
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Acclaim for Radclyffe’s Fiction
In Prescription for Love “Radclyffe populates her small town with colorful characters, among the most memorable being Flann’s little sister, Margie, and Abby’s 15-year-old trans son, Blake…This romantic drama has plenty of heart and soul.”—Publishers Weekly
2013 RWA / New England Bean Pot award winner for contemporary romance Crossroads “will draw the reader in and make her heart ache, willing the two main characters to find love and a life together. It’s a story that lingers long after coming to ‘the end.’”—Lambda Literary
In 2012 RWA / FTHRW Lories and RWA HODRW Aspen Gold award winner Firestorm “Radclyffe brings another hot lesbian romance for her readers.”—The Lesbrary
Foreword Review Book of the Year finalist and IPPY silver medalist Trauma Alert “is hard to put down and it will sizzle in the reader’s hands. The characters are hot, the sex scenes explicit and explosive, and the book is moved along by an interesting plot with well drawn secondary characters. The real star of this show is the attraction between the two characters, both of whom resist and then fall head over heels.”—Lambda Literary Reviews
Lambda Literary Award Finalist Best Lesbian Romance 2010 features “stories [that] are diverse in tone, style, and subject, making for more variety than in many, similar anthologies…well written, each containing a satisfying, surprising twist. Best Lesbian Romance series editor Radclyffe has assembled a respectable crop of 17 authors for this year’s offering.”—Curve Magazine
2010 Prism award winner and ForeWord Review Book of the Year Award finalist Secrets in the Stone is “so powerfully [written] that the worlds of these three women shimmer between reality and dreams…A strong, must read novel that will linger in the minds of readers long after the last page is turned.”—Just About Write
In Benjamin Franklin Award finalist Desire by Starlight “Radclyffe writes romance with such heart and her down-to-earth characters not only come to life but leap off the page until you feel like you know them. What Jenna and Gard feel for each other is not only a spark but an inferno and, as a reader, you will be washed away in this tumultuous romance until you can do nothing but succumb to it.”—Queer Magazine Online
Lambda Literary Award winner Stolen Moments “is a collection of steamy stories about women who just couldn’t wait. It’s sex when desire overrides reason, and it’s incredibly hot!”—On Our Backs
Lambda Literary Award winner Distant Shores, Silent Thunder “weaves an intricate tapestry about passion and commitment between lovers. The story explores the fragile nature of trust and the sanctuary provided by loving relationships.”—Sapphic Reader
Lambda Literary Award Finalist Justice Served delivers a “crisply written, fast-paced story with twists and turns and keeps us guessing until the final explosive ending.”—Independent Gay Writer
Lambda Literary Award finalist Turn Back Time “is filled with wonderful love scenes, which are both tender and hot.”—MegaScene
Applause for L.L. Raand’s Midnight Hunters Series
The Midnight Hunt
RWA 2012 VCRW Laurel Wreath winner Blood Hunt
Night Hunt
The Lone Hunt
“Raand has built a complex world inhabited by werewolves, vampires, and other paranormal beings…Raand has given her readers a complex plot filled with wonderful characters as well as insight into the hierarchy of Sylvan’s pack and vampire clans. There are many plot twists and turns, as well as erotic sex scenes in this riveting novel that keep the pages flying until its satisfying conclusion.”—Just About Write
“Once again, I am amazed at the storytelling ability of L.L. Raand aka Radclyffe. In Blood Hunt,she mixes high levels of sheer eroticism that will leave you squirming in your seat with an impeccable multi-character storyline all streaming together to form one great read.”—Queer Magazine Online
“The Midnight Hunt has a gripping story to tell, and while there are also some truly erotic sex scenes, the story always takes precedence. This is a great read which is not easily put down nor easily forgotten.”—Just About Write
“Are you sick of the same old hetero vampire/werewolf story plastered in every bookstore and at every movie theater? Well, I’ve got the cure to your werewolf fever. The Midnight Hunt is first in, what I hope is, a long-running series of fantasy erotica for L.L. Raand (aka Radclyffe).”—Queer Magazine Online
“Any reader familiar with Radclyffe’s writing will recognize the author’s style within The Midnight Hunt, yet at the same time it is most definitely a new direction. The author delivers an excellent story here, one that is engrossing from the very beginning. Raand has pieced together an intricate world, and provided just enough details for the reader to become enmeshed in the new world. The action moves quickly throughout the book and it’s hard to put down.”—Three Dollar Bill Reviews
Nick of Time
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Nick of Time
© 2007 By Radclyffe. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-137-2
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Bold Strokes Electronic Edition: June 2017
Originally Published in Fantasy: Untrue Stories of Lesbian Passion, Ed. B. Johnson and T. Szymanski (Bella Books, 2007)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Ruth Sternglantz
Production Design: Bold Strokes Graphics
Cover Design by Melody Pond
By Radclyffe
Romances
Innocent Hearts
Promising Hearts
Love’s Melody Lost
Love’s Tender Warriors
Tomorrow’s Promise
Love’s Masquerade
shadowland
Passion’s Bright Fury
Fated Love
Turn Back Time
When Dreams Tremble
The Lonely Hearts Club
Night Call
Secrets in the Stone
Desire by Starlight
Crossroads
Homestead
The Color of Love
Secret Hearts
Honor Series
Above All, Honor
Honor Bound
Love & Honor
Honor Guards
Honor Reclaimed
Honor Under Siege
Word of Honor
Code o
f Honor
Price of Honor
Justice Series
A Matter of Trust (prequel)
Shield of Justice
In Pursuit of Justice
Justice in the Shadows
Justice Served
Justice For All
The Provincetown Tales
Safe Harbor
Beyond the Breakwater
Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
Storms of Change
Winds of Fortune
Returning Tides
Sheltering Dunes
First Responders Novels
Trauma Alert
Firestorm
Oath of Honor
Taking Fire
Wild Shores
Rivers Community Novels
Against Doctor’s Orders
Prescription for Love
Love on Call
Short Fiction
Collected Stories by Radclyffe
Erotic Interludes: Change of Pace
Radical Encounters
Edited by Radclyffe:
Best Lesbian Romance 2009-2014
Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.
Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments
Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love
Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions
Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games
Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery
Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets
Breathless: Tales of Celebration
Women of the Dark Streets
Amore and More: Love Everafter
Myth & Magic: Queer Fairy Tales
By L.L. Raand
Midnight Hunters
The Midnight Hunt
Blood Hunt
Night Hunt
The Lone Hunt
The Magic Hunt
Shadow Hunt
When the phone rang, I knew I shouldn’t answer. Part of me craved a diversion, and that’s exactly why I hesitated. I didn’t have time to be distracted. Zero hour, D-day, the Moment of Truth—whatever the phrase for the clock is ticking and you’re running out of time—was written in big bold letters across the blank screen of my computer monitor.
Second ring. I clenched my jaws, determined to be strong.
Third ring. I ground my teeth.
Fourth ring. I pressed both hands hard against my thighs.
Fifth ring. Sweat broke out on my forehead.
Sixth—I snatched up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Did I catch you in the middle of a workout?”
“Nope, I’m at my desk.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes, picturing my best friend Carly. At ten at night, she’d probably be curled up on the sofa with a book, her long runner’s legs bare and her riotous red curls disheveled because she unconsciously twisted the long locks around her finger as she read. We’d met on our first day of college at freshman orientation and had been practically inseparable ever since. We’d pledged the same sorority, ended up sharing a room, and throughout most of that year shared pretty much everything, even dating the same guys, although not at the same time. All that changed one night in the middle of commiserating about the unsatisfying state of our love lives because neither of us had been able to find anyone who could kiss, or do anything else to our satisfaction. We were sitting cross-legged on her bed, facing each other, wearing what we usually wore to bed. Big, long, loose T-shirts and nothing else. I can’t remember which guys we had been complaining about, but I distinctly remember Carly stopping in mid-rant and staring at me as if she’d never seen me before. Or maybe seeing me for the first time.
“You know, you have a fantastic mouth.”
“What?” I said stupidly.
“Your lips,” Carly murmured, leaning forward so our knees touched. She braced her hand on my bare thigh as if she needed to keep her balance and traced my bottom lip with the index finger of her other hand. “They’re a beautiful color and so full.” She dipped her finger ever so slightly inside, and without thinking, I caught it with my teeth. She made a little sound of approval in the back of her throat, and I felt weak and hot, as if I’d been running for hours.
I’d seen her naked. I’d touched her casually hundreds of times. I had told her things I’d never told another human being. There were things I didn’t know about myself, or hadn’t yet admitted, but Carly—Carly, I knew. But until that moment, I had never noticed there were tiny flecks of gold around the edges of her hazel irises. I hadn’t imagined that her fingertip running along the inside of my lip could feel as if she was stroking me deep inside. I had never once dreamed that the heat of her body could consume me when we weren’t even touching.
“Carly, what—”
“Shh,” she whispered. “You know.”
Her lips were hot and wet, and when her tongue slipped gently into my mouth, I whimpered helplessly, wanting things I had no clue how to express. She took my hand and guided it beneath her T-shirt to her breast. Her nipple tightened against my palm, and she shivered and gave a little cry. That tiny, vulnerable gesture gave me the courage to follow my desperate desire.
I guided her back onto the bed, following until I was lying on top of her, my thigh between hers, my hand traveling from one breast to the other, squeezing and fondling, exploring her with breathless wonder. I kissed her and got lost in her softness, in the sweet taste of her mouth—too lost to realize what her breathless cries meant until she clutched my shoulders and arched beneath me, her legs twisting around mine.
“I think I’m coming,” she gasped.
I remember holding my breath, my heart pounding so fiercely I thought it might burst and not caring if it did, so long as I lived long enough to watch her face while she came. She kept her eyes open and I couldn’t have looked away if someone had held a gun to my head. She let me see everything in her eyes—her need, her fears, her pleasure. I’ve never known anyone braver, before or since. I didn’t take a breath until she started to laugh.
“Oh my God,” Carly half laughed, half sobbed. She wrapped her arms around my waist when I tried to pull away. “Oh my God, that was unbelievable.”
My leg was still between hers and she was wet and hot and beautiful. I was—I don’t really know what I was, because I’d never felt anything like that before. Terrified, exhilarated, aching, in awe. Carly nudged me with her knee and I shuddered. Grinning, she turned her hand over and slid it between us, down my sweat-slick belly and between my legs. My head snapped back when she closed her fingers around me, and I thought I might pass out.
“Just hold on,” Carly whispered, as she held me and stroked me until I couldn’t hold on anymore. Then she held me and stroked me as I lay quivering in her arms.
“Do you think this means…?” Carly whispered after a long time, and I answered, “I don’t know.”
I wasn’t ready, but Carly was, and I’d never known Carly to run away from anything. So she ran toward her truth while I stumbled along behind. I took too long and she found a girlfriend. There have been a lot of girlfriends in the six years since then. For both of us. But the one constant in my life has been Carly.
“You don’t sound like you’re working.” Carly’s voice called me back to the present. “You sound breathless.”
I hadn’t been before, but I was now. I concentrated on sounding normal. “Actually, the correct term would be trying to work.”
“You’re stuck?” Carly asked incredulously.
I never suffered from writer’s block, and she knew it. It wasn’t writer’s block precisely, it was…boredom. “Not exactly. I’m just having trouble getting motivated.”
“What are you writing?”
I sighed. “I promised Vanessa a selection for her next anthology.”
“The fantasy thing?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“When is it due?”
“Uh…” I glanced at the time on my computer. “In about two hours.”
Carly burst out laughing. �
�I can’t believe you waited this long. You always get everything done weeks in advance. It’s disgusting.”
“I know,” I said miserably. “I’ve been putting it off.”
“Why?”
I shrugged and then realized she couldn’t see me. “It’s weird. Every time I sit down to write, my mind goes blank.”
“No fantasies, hmm?” Carly teased.
I laughed. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of fantasies. But this isn’t supposed to be true confessions.”
“You just need to get primed. Do a spinoff of one of yours.” Her voice held a note of challenge. “Come on, let’s practice. What’s your favorite fantasy?”
“Forget it, Carly. I don’t do autobiographical erotica.”
“I didn’t say write it. I said tell me. Or are you chicken?”
“Chicken?” I heard a muffled sound as if the phone had been dropped. “What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable on the couch. Stretching out so you can tell me a story.”
I’d sat on that couch dozens of times, watching television with her, eating popcorn and sharing a bottle of wine. Sometimes she fell asleep. Sometimes we both did and woke up leaning against each other, as comfortable in each other’s space as a long-term couple. I pushed back my swivel chair and propped my feet on my desk. I always worked in sweats so I felt pretty relaxed too.
“Maybe I should write about one of your true-life adventures,” I goaded.
“Like you’d know.”
I’m not sure exactly why I said what I said next. I could tell she wanted me to do something, say something, but I wasn’t sure what. She was always a step ahead of me, and I was tired of trying to catch up and always getting there too late.