Hi all! I hope you're having a fabulous sun-shiny day!

So I didn't plan on continuing this story, but I've had a few people PM me asking that I write some more. So here it is!

I hope that you enjoy it and that you'll review to let me know what you think. I love reading your thoughts, good or bad; they really to help me to become a better writer. I respond to me reviews and the conversations that pop up are great!

I want to put a special thanks out there to:

TMI_Rules for reviewing both Before Clary and All the Time in the World and for PMing me with thoughts, ideas and compliments! I love it! Mwah! Hugs!

Cosmopolitan165: for reviewing and for some great idea with how to continue this story. Hugs!

Kayla Homes: for the encouragement to continue. Hugs!

Please, please, please review! Yes, I am begging. I absolutely love, love, love your thoughts! Every single one of them is incredibly important!

One more things... Please remember Before Clary is rated M for a reason!

The ride home on the subway is uneventful, except for the sour look on Alec's face. Isabelle avoids looking at either brother knowing that when Alec is in a snit, it's better for silence to fill the space than words that might provoke his undesired anger. Jace however, is never as perceptive when it comes to recognizing the need to be quiet, or maybe he just doesn't care to allow Alec to behave like a pouting two-year-old.

"There was a mundane with red hair and piercing green eyes. Did you happen to see her?" Jace puts the question out there to see if Alec or Isabelle were as drawn to her as he was. Isabelle's eyes flash in confusion; her almost imperceptible head shake a signal that she doesn't want to converse. Alec continues to look in Jace's direction blue eyes sharply aimed willing his bitterness to overpower Jace's curiosity and post-sexual encounter foggy-headed high. He won't respond and Jace knows this, but he's feeling like being an ass and so he pushes back against Alec's unpleasant stare.

"What the fuck's your problem?" The smirk on his face playfully suggests that he's really asking, interested, although he's fairly certain that his brother is angered at Jace indiscriminately exposing himself to the mundane world. That and he's jealous that Jace prefers womanly curves and peaks and valleys, the scent of female arousal and the brush of a woman's hand over the swelling in his pants to what Alec might propose. Shit! What am I doing? Four orgasms and still…. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat; slumping down to create some room for his unfortunate predicament. How much longer is it until were home? His thoughts affirm his body's impatience for the remaining journey.

Jace wishes that he had bumped into the red head with the sexy curves as he walked to the back room at Pandemonium for the second time tonight. He could really use the sound of her voice or the knowledge that her hands are warm and soft to help him out. Not that he's really complaining...that strawberry blonde knew her way around a man; multiple orgasms were something that he gave away like candy-usually he wasn't the recipient. At any rate, he figured that he would need to rest and eat something before he would be ready again. But the ride home and an over-active imagination make that an impossibility. And now, here he is, alone in his room at the Institute finding it really hard to picture the girl who at a distance made him tingle. Jace scoffs loudly as he recalls the strange sensation. He would never describe any sexual feeling he attributed to himself as "tingling".

Staring up at the ceiling, his brain tries to recreate the scene of the red head's hands moving silkily up her thighs. His hands replace hers feeling the muscles of her legs tense as she dips to rub her ass across the front of his pants. Her hands catch on her hips momentarily; his mind places his there gripping them hard as he grinds her against him. Dragging slowly, fingers splayed over her stomach the feel of her skin is a blank. A deep, slow breath… he blinks back the image, but it's gone.

He releases the hold he has on himself for a moment, trying to refocus his foggy thoughts: the thumping music of Pandemonium, ivory hands moving heavily over her curves. This never happens. The struggle to satisfy is not something that Jace has ever battled. Usually, the white walls of his stark room provide a bare canvas to project his mental fantasies upon, no distractions, but tonight-it looks like it's a cold shower for him.

A cold shower… Isabelle's atrocious cooking…the unbelievable stench of Drevak demons… Isabelle's cooking. Jace channels thoughts to counteract his still semi-hard arousal. The frigid water from his failed shower trickles down his back sending shivers through out his body. He quickly towels off his hair and throws on a pair of pajama pants. He crouches down to the floor, extending his feet behind him; his hands flat under his shoulders. He pushes up and lowers himself down 1…2…3…4…56…102. The push-ups tax his shoulders and his chest and Jace hopes the muscle burn will force his mind to concentrate on something other than his lower extremities. This can't be just because of her! What is my problem? He doesn't expect an answer to the question he puts out to the universe. He flips on to his back and tucks his feet under his dresser. Hands overlap behind his head golden curls tangling between his fingers. Lift—right—left—exhale—1—lift—right—left—exhale—2. The repetition of crunches—reciting the pattern over in his head usually calms his mind. Lift—right—left—exhale—55—lift—right—left—exhale—85.

He collapses onto his bed 150 push-ups; 100 crunches; and 200 squats later; Jace is exhausted to the point. His mind is finally quiet, although it refuses to delivers sleep quickly.

The beat pounds through his body. Her hands are soft and warm just like he thought they would be and small, so delicate. But strong too. She grips him like she's tugging on a rope, and oh god it feels so... A groan escapes Jace before he's able to stifle it. Her green eyes flash to his momentarily smiling in triumph and then she dips her head down to take him into her mouth. The slickness of her tongue moving up his ridge sends a shiver up his spine. How is it that this has never felt so good before? His inner monologue cannot keep up with the rush of sensations she is flooding his body with. Her head bobs rhythmically and he feels that overwhelming tightness and heat that will accompany his release. He's so close. That's right! Just like that! Come on…yeah. She brings her mouth almost to the end, swirls her tongue around and then presses deeply right at the base. There…there...there…Oh.

His breathing, only through his nose or he might yell out, is labored and loud and is so quick that he feels light-headed. Her fiery curls flit over his trembling thighs and tensed abs, the tickling heightening his sensitivity. She trails her fingers up the inside of his legs. Jace tries to hold on—her creeping fingers edge up his thighs making it so hard. A groan settles in his chest, the pressure is intense and she's still moving, tongue rolling over skin, fingers skimming his inner thighs. She cups him and pulls… oh God! The ball of heat centered in between his hips is an inferno, raging, pulsing savagely, coursing through his body. His breath catches in his throat…

"Wake-up, Asshole. You're late and Mom's in the training room ready to use the practice whip on YOU!" Apparently, Alec's still angry. Jace tumbles out of bed and crashes to the floor. Too many squats. I'll be paying for that today. He doesn't bother with a shower knowing that prolonging the training session with his adoptive mother, the consequence for tardiness, is not in his best interests.

Jace returns limping to his room. Maryse is a genius with a whip. He, however, displayed little intelligence while training today—the near sleepless night to blame. His drag ass landed him on the mats over and over, and in true Jace fashion his smart mouth earned him an extra hour of brutal hand to hand with a still pissed off Alec. Thank the angel for gifting the iratze to the Nephilim. Jace expertly carves the healing rune into his swollen ankle, grateful for the smell of burning flesh and almost instantaneous relief. Still, Jace hobbles to his bathroom; his sore muscles demand the scaling heat of a shower to release the punishment of the day. As the water cascades over the tension in his body, Jace's mind wanders to the night's upcoming hunt. Demons sighted—two words that Jace loves hearing as much as the sound of his own voice, or the constant praise usually heaped on him by the Institute's visiting Shadowhunters, or the screamed moan elicited as he pleasures a woman. And there it is. Well, if the demons turn out to be a wild goose chase… The images of the little red-head catapult to the forefront of his mind. Jace's hand hovers over the hot water control wondering if maybe he needs to turn the water to cold. Demon hunting with a hard-on is ridiculously difficult.

"Jace! We're leaving in 20 minutes!" Ah…Isabelle. He drops his hand; no need to change the water temperature now.