Pursuit (Through Time 1)

She lay back with a sigh and thought about all she had just learned about Chancemont LeBlanc. Well, well, he liked her more than he wanted to think about—at least she hoped he did.

She looked at the tray; the plates were nearly empty, and she made quick work of completing the job. Then she set the tray table aside and got to her feet.

He was right—she needed a soak.

She ran the water, turned on the jets, and because it was soothing she brushed her hair free of the knots that had collected. Then she sank into the soothing bubbles and lay back.

She was healing.

She could feel the power surging back into her body—his power. He had helped her heal faster. Did he love her? Was that what it meant? She rolled her eyes at herself. “Sure,” she said out loud, “he needs you now—you’re a pretty good team member … proven, and he needs your help to find Pestale.” That was all there was to it, and she was heading for a great big fall if she read more into it than there was.

Did it matter? Did it matter what he felt? She knew what she felt. She knew what she wanted—him.

She ran the soapy washcloth over her body and remembered. He had soaped her down …

He had seen her naked. The notion made her clench her thighs together with the excitement that raced to her nerve endings.

“That’s right,” she told herself on a whisper. “He saw you naked and walked away. Clearly you don’t measure up to the women he has had …”

She sighed and closed her eyes. Could she look into the future? Would she see Chance in her future—would she feel Chance kissing her, holding her, making wild, hungry love with her?

She concentrated, and something began to filter through, but it wasn’t Chance—it was Pestale’s face! She gasped and shook herself free of the vision as she sat up.

It was a vision, only a vision.

She sank back into the water and started thinking of Chance once more. Her hands moved over her body as she thought of his smile …

Chance stood in the curved arch of the bathroom suite’s door, huge and dripping with sexual magnetism. Seeing him, Royce arched her back.

“Och lass … doona …” he said.

She continued to slide her hands over her wet body and fingered her nipple as she softly called his name. “Chance …?”

He was on her, out of control, saying in a hushed voice, “Lass … lass … there is just so much a man can bear!”

He scooped her out of the warm water and carried her dripping wet to the bed, heedless of all else save one thing!

He flung off his clothes and bent to kiss her, at first brushing her lips with his as though she might break. She pressed her mouth against his and parted her lips for his tongue, and that was all that was needed. His tongue found hers and lapped at its velvet texture with a hunger she matched and had not realized she was capable of feeling.

“Och beauty …” he whispered as he pulled away and lifted his head to look at her face. “I doona know how ye could be more perfect … I—”

She silenced him as she reached for his face and brought it to hers; her tongue dove into his mouth to caress his own.

His kiss blasted all her inhibitions to the winds. She wanted him, and she showed him as she pressed her body up to meet his. He threw off his black boxers and climbed onto the bed to embrace her fully. “I … doona let me hurt ye … are ye healed enough …” he said on a hushed note as he kissed her neck and brought his lips to her ear.

Savage need drove her to thrust against him in answer to his question. She heard him respond with a feral sound and knew he was driven.

Her body demanded, and she felt a primal need driving every movement she made. He broke away again from his kiss and looked at her fully, whispering huskily, “Och love, ye are so tasty … I could dine on ye forever …”

His fingers worked her hard ripe, nipple, teasing and playing. He brought up his palm and told her hungrily, “Lick it, love … lick m’palm …”

She did, and then she arched when he rubbed it against one nipple, licked it himself, and then rubbed it against the other. “Damn … damn …” tore out of him before he bent and began suckling at her breasts, fondling them as she thumped herself against his rock hardness.

He stood away, and she opened her eyes to gaze at the size and breadth of his cock and licked her lips. His face a mask of desire, he bent towards her and said, “Hold it … rub it against yer nipples … ye take control …”

She groaned with pleasure as she did what she had never done before. These were all firsts for Princess Royce.

She stroked it, rubbing the head on herself, and then brought her lips to it and suckled there before licking its length. It throbbed and danced to her ministrations, and he moaned with pleasure.