Amanda walked into her apartment and shut the door, flicking on the light at the same time. Chrissy must still be out with her new bloke, for the place was quiet, not even smothered whispers from her bedroom, nothing burning on the stove. She tossed her bag onto the sofa and flopped down beside it, suddenly exhausted. Must have walked too fast from the pub. Her limbs felt weak as a newborn kitten.

Modern-day Marcus was going to be a problem if he kept trailing around after her. She wasn't up to full sarcastic strength since her operation, and she couldn't seem to get rid of him with her usual sharp-tongued skill. But she couldn't afford to be distracted from her studies. As she reminded Chrissy almost every day, she was there to study and get her degree at the end of four years, not to party and screw around. He was the type who would monopolize her attention, totally. She'd seen other girls swept up in a whirlwind passion, throw their all into it, forget about their grades, and then end up dumped when the "love of their life" moved on to another pair of tits.

But he was really tempting. Sexy as hell.

Like his original.

She closed her eyes, head resting against the back of the sofa. "Marcus," she whispered wearily. How badly she wanted to go back there to his villa in Aquae Sulis, to swim with him in his bath and wrap her legs around his waist so he could fill her with his magnificent cock. Yes, it truly was magnificent and not just him boasting. Amanda had never imagined a penis that could stretch almost to a man's navel. Not to mention the girth of that thing.

But it wasn't just his cock that she remembered. It was also his laughter, his amusing arrogance, his touch— one moment too rough and the next soft, tender. She remembered the way his skin smelled and tasted. The way he made her feel like a desirable woman for the first time in her life. It had given her power, despite her lowly place as his bed slave. Power over a man like Marcus Cassius was no small thing. He was a tough commander, a merciless warrior and an ardent, demanding lover. Watching him ride across a training field in full battle armor, with sweat rolling down his stout neck, and knowing he would soon be in her arms again, was one of the most erotic things she'd ever witnessed.

It was all so much simpler back then.

Oh God, her life was turning into a Barbara Streisand song. She heard the singer softly cooing inside her head.

If we had the chance to do it all again, tell me... would we? Could we?

How could Marcus Casolletti, the Italian exchange student, know about Axa and the General? The way he had talked to her in the pub was so like Marcus Cassius, the cadence...the cockiness. And it wasn't just sexual arousal she felt.

With his voice he reached inside her chest and grabbed her heart. Brought all those feelings back again.

If she kissed him, would it be the way it was before? Would he taste like her Roman general?

"Axa!"

Her eyes flew open and she sat upright, feet on the floor.

"Axa, come back to me."

It was a soft, anguished plea, full of yearning, and in that deep voice she knew so well.

Suddenly there was someone banging at the door.

Marcus had come for her, there was no doubt in her mind. In that instant she knew he had come and she would go with him, back to his time. She didn't want to be here anymore. There was nothing for her here. There was everything for her in his world.

Amanda ran to the door and opened it.

Her heart sank.

"I lost my key," Chrissy exclaimed with a yawn, sauntering in. "Lucky you were home. I thought maybe you'd still be at the library. Hey, what's up? You look weird. You're smiling. You feeling okay?"

Taking exception to the suggestion that a smile was an odd thing to find on her face, Amanda lied with a terse, "I'm fine. Just tired. Think I'll make a cup of tea and go to bed early. Want one?" She walked into the kitchen and stared at the kettle, her pulse thumping unevenly as it tried to find a steady pace again. What an idiot she was to think Marcus would come there for her. If this didn't stop, she'd end up in a psych ward.

Maybe Chrissy was right about her studying too hard. Always had her head buried in a history book, even when it wasn't something on the course list. Now this fascination with the Roman occupation of Britain was taking over her life, making her imagine she'd actually lived back then.

Now, what was she doing? Tea. Right! Make a nice, safe, comforting cup of tea. One of the few things the Romans hadn't brought to Britain.

She filled the kettle with water and switched it on. Somewhere behind her she heard Chrissy turn on the TV. Everything back to normal.

But when she grabbed some aspirin from the kitchen drawer, the pills rattled in their bottle because her hand was shaking.

Hastily she turned the tap back on and splashed her face with cool water. As she was bent over the sink, gasping, water dripping off her chin and eyelashes, her breasts felt heavy again, the nipples sensitive where they rubbed against her lacy bra. They were aching the way they often did a few days before her period, but it was the wrong time of month to be feeling it now.

"Axa, stay right there," he whispered in her ear.

His hand stroked her arched spine and then swept under her skirt, lifting it up over her hips.

"Part your legs for me."

Oh, God yes. Yes, Marcus! Whatever you want.

Two fingertips, broad and rough, brushed over the damp patch that had spread across the crotch of her panties.

"I want this. I've missed it." His fingers quickened into a steady stroking rhythm. "You're so wet, slave. Sweet, sticky and creamy."

The lid of the aspirin bottle flipped off and a stream of little white pills tinkled down into the stainless steel sink.

He shoved the crotch of her panties aside, not having the patience to remove them. "Look at this lovely pussy. I'm going to fill it, Axa. I'll come so hard, you'll taste it. I'll make you scream." Here came the head of his cock, pushing into her wet crease. She would have pressed back to take him in, but with one hand on the small of her back, he kept her in place, bent over the sink. "I'll make the pace, slave," he hissed into the nape of her neck. "You stay still and just take me. Take me deep." Slowly he inched his way into her cunt, but was only half way in before he pulled back again.

He repeated the motion, teasing and tantalizing, giving her just a little more each time and then withdrawing.

The man had incredible self-control. He tapped the head of his penis on her arse cheek and rubbed it there so that she felt the stickiness from inside her body.

Amanda shuddered with need.

He lifted her right leg and showed her how to rest it on the edge of the sink and countertop. Two thick, long fingers now slipped into her pussy and thrust all the way to his knuckles. It pushed her vulva against the edge of the sink, which wasn't very comfortable.

"Be still, Axa," he growled, his voice a low thunder rolling in the distance. "You are simply a vessel here to be filled by me. I will do as I please with you." Now she heard the wet squelching as he moved his fingers in and out, fucking her cunt, with her panties hooked to one side by his other hand, the elastic stretched close to snapping.