by Conn, Claudy
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.
He gently placed her back down, positioned it at her mouth, and whispered, “Aye then, ’tis yers, sweet lass … suck it … suck it hard …”
And when she did, she felt her body build a tension that riveted her with the ultimate pleasure until she exploded with a small scream that ripped out of her as she climaxed.
He pulled away and grinned with satisfaction before he whispered, “Now then …”
The next thing she knew he was kissing, nibbling, licking his way down her belly to the tuft of red hair at her apex, holding it with one hand while his long fingers spread the lips apart. “Such a pretty love nest …” he said softly, and he bent his head between her thighs, found the nub, and pleasured it with his textured tongue.
She arched again and groaned, “Yes … oh hell, yes … that … do that …”
He added a finger and began working her, vibrating the cleft, licking and nibbling. She felt it build up inside her, and release … release for her meant nearly sobbing out his name.
“Chance … oh … Chance!”
* * *
Chance was consumed with desire.
His life had been long, and many beauties had filled his mind and tickled his lust, but this … this was something that had conquered all logic, torn down all defenses … beat at his heart for relief.
The wee Fae princess was all he could think about. His dick was ever hard for her. He had but to think her name, which was all the damn time, and it would throb uncomfortably in his leather pants, egging him to take her! She wanted taking—he saw it, felt it, so why shouldn’t he take her?
He wanted to taste her, feel her, touch her, ram his hard-on deep inside her and never leave.
There was more to it than her beauty.
He had known that almost at once: the danger of ‘forever’ lurked in her eyes. Could he give forever?
Aye, but everything about her caught his eye. Her flaming red hair begged his hands to grab and hold and bring her to him. Her eyes drew him as no other before her ever had.
And still, there was more, so much more. She made him feel … feel things he had not thought he was capable of feeling. She made him forget his determination to never commit to any one woman. She made him laugh and hope, and … she made him see possibilities outside himself.
Aye, he wanted her beyond words. He wanted to ravage her and fill her with pleasure. He wanted her to climax under his care, because of his touch, and then he wanted to make her go off again and again. When she did, it was a pleasure he had never experienced before in his life.
He was filled with exultation.
He had fulfilled her.
And he discovered it was all he wanted to do.
He also discovered he was in trouble.
He suddenly realized how his world would be turned upside down. Och, he told himself, he was losing who he was in this wee bit of Royal Fae, and he was happy for it—ecstatic because of it.
When he had seen her in the tub, when he saw her touch herself, he knew control with her was a thing of the past. He had to have her, cost be damned!
He had laid her soaking wet body on the bed and thought himself in paradise. She was his paradise. She was the piece of the puzzle he had been looking for all his life.
He kissed her, and as his tongue touched hers he knew in that moment he no longer was his own man—not without her in his life.
He had to have her. He had to make her love him—want him.
He drove his finger into her warm, wet cavity and reveled in the feel, in the scent. When he licked her sensitive area and she groaned with ecstasy, he nearly turned into a savage beast. He almost rammed into her then and there. Somehow, he stopped himself because he wanted, needed, to make love to her … take his time with her, linger over her exquisite body.
When had this happened? How? She was a Royal Fae—not meant to mate with a Milesian. Look at him now—hadn’t he told Lana she couldn’t be with Trevor because he was a Fae … and now—now what was he doing?
He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that she was a Royal Fae … that he was a Milesian and that no good could possible come of this day’s work!
All he cared about was the silk of her skin, the sweet vanilla of her tongue, the lavender and pine of her natural scent. All he cared about was the measure of her mind and the bright aura of her essence.
His kind had often declared that Fae had no souls, but she had one that glowed brightly for anyone to see. Her essence was a sunbeam, rays of bright shades of aqua glittered in her eyes, and they were always so full with emotion.
He wanted her for all time, but he knew it would never do. His people would object, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass! He was going to make her his—damn all else.
He took pleasure in pleasuring her; he was moved to the point of climax as he enticed her with his deft fingers.
He brought up her knees, and his dick rested in the fluff of her pretty nest. He took her hand and ran it over his hard, throbbing length. “Want that … want it now, beauty, och my beauty, how
I want ye?”
“Now … yes, yes … now …” she said on a hushed note of desire.
She moved and bumped at him and ground herself against him, and he knew he was bloody damn well out of control. She infused his body with heat. His blood bubbled and spelled out her name as he positioned his cock and rubbed it against her opening. “Och lass, ye be so warm and wet … so perfect …” he whispered as he entered.
She thrust into him, and he could wait no longer. He drove it home, and then suddenly he went very still.
“Och no … no! I dinna know—why dinna ye tell me? Did … did I hurt ye, love?”
“Oh fuck me—just keep fucking me … move it … keep moving it …” she answered, shocking him with the heat of her need.
He was her first, but he could see she must have learned a thing along the way to this moment. And then she shocked him again as she eyed him saucily and added, “Well … big man …?”
He had not expected that even though he had noticed early on that for a Fae she did not seem very skilled in the art of dalliance. In fact, he had thought any number of times when he flirted with her that she came near to blushing.
This was a new and captivating experience for him.
As he held her and worked himself inside her, a swelling of emotion surged through his mind and heart, and it tore through his throat in a harsh whisper. “Mine, Seelie Princess … now ye be mine!” And he drove home all his meaning.
~ Ten ~
THEIR LOVEMAKING HAD taken her to another place in her mind, and she found him there. A bonding. Wolves imprinted on one another. Fae, when they met their destined mate, did much the same and called it bonding.
But he was not a Fae. Did he feel it? Did he feel the bond that made her forever his?
Would she be destined to be tied to Chancemont LeBlanc for eternity while he went off with others? The thought made her want to die.
She closed her eyes and snuggled her ass firmly into the lap his legs made up against her. He had taken her in ways she had never believed were possible, in ways she wanted to repeat over and over.
She had not thought she could so easily climax … so many times. His fingers had played her. His tongue and the way he used it …
He had used his cock to probe her from behind while two fingers pleasured her—what did he call it?—her love nest. She smiled to herself, and as she moved he woke up. His hand immediately cupped her breast.
“I love your tits, woman …” he whispered and kissed her neck in sleepy fashion.
He called her lass, he called her woman, and in his arms that was what she was—his woman. She forgot that she was a Royal Fae with obligations and another world—a world she would have to return to one day. The thought of ever leaving him hurt so much she cringed.
He felt it and came out of dozing to ask worriedly, “What, love—what is it?”
“Nothing,” she whispered and held the hand that cupped her breast. He immediately became aroused and totally awake.
“Is it more ye want then?” He snuggled into her neck as his cock beat a rhythm against her butt.
She marveled at his stamina. “Are you not tired …?”
“Whist with ye, sweetheart, tired am I?” Thus saying he slipped his cock into her from behind and started her up.
All logic and thoughts of the future were set aside as she gave herself over to his magical dance.
He groaned and lifted her by the waist onto her hands and knees so he could kneel behind her. Her cupped the tuft of hair between her thighs as he rocked his dick inside her and teased her hard, tingling nipple with his free hand.
“Och now … my little tart … give me all ye have … and I’ll be doing the same …” He moaned as he shoved himself deeper and racked her body with pleasure.
As she started to go off, he allowed himself release. They shuddered as one before he took her in his arms and laid her back down beside him.
She shifted onto her back, and his fingers played with her nipples. Had it only been yesterday, she wondered, that she lay dying in the Fallen Druid’s prison and in so much pain?
All the pain was gone, as were any signs of an injury, but the memory was there, along with the continued admiration for the human race. She thought of young David. She needed to visit with him and his family soon …
Chance had fallen asleep, so she slowly, quietly got out of bed and made her way to the shower. Clothes? Would she be able to open a small portal to retrieve her clothes from her wardrobe in Faery?
She closed her eyes and concentrated. Yes! Oh yes, she was getting stronger. She produced a drawer full of clothes and laid them out on a nearby chair. The blue summer dress with the spaghetti straps and her pretty leather sandals—perfect.
Right, so what she needed to do was wash, dress, and stretch her legs!
* * *
Dravo—so very different than her world of Tir. She took a good long whiff of air; it wasn’t as sweet as Faery air, but it was fresh and lovely. It was a shade closer to the air in the Human Realm. She looked around at the LeBlanc Manor grounds and chose a path that would take her towards the stables and pastures.
She wanted to explore his world and know him through it.
The stable building was Old World in style but had all the modern amenities. Automatic water spouts in the stalls. Beautiful brass fixtures, heavy hardwood flooring.
She went out the back of the barn to stare at his horses in their paddocks. They were prime blood, each and every single one. A mother grazed while her young foal danced in the clover. A stallion called to her from the stud paddock across the sandy road. The scene was absolutely breathtaking.
She was getting her magical strength back. She knew she would need it when they finally faced Pestale. It would take all their combined powers to defeat him because he was ruthless and made his decisions without emotion. He would concentrate all his efforts in winning, no matter the cost. They did not have that luxury—cost always factored in.
She wandered down a bridle path and found the aroma of pines and wildflowers intoxicating—and so much like Tir.
The thought drew a heavy sigh. What was she going to do? She was in a mess of love, but was he? He certainly wanted her and had made that all very clear. She smiled as she remembered how sweetly he had caressed her. Yes, it was more than lust—there was something there. He hadn’t yet really said the words. He had showed her she was special to him, but he had not said the words or promised her more than the ‘now’. She certainly hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking on her part, but she believed that he loved her.
Obstacles would definitely present themselves to their union. His people, hers … the queen? His world, her world—where would they reside?
She looked up at the sound of a twig breaking and was astonished when she looked into eyes so much like Chance’s that for a moment she almost ran to him.
Walking towards her was a man who could have passed as Chance’s twin—except he had just a bit more age than Chance.
His father, she knew immediately; it could only be his father. What would he think? What would he say? Would he hate her on sight because she was a Fae?
“Good morning to ye, Princess Royce,” he said with an inclination of his head as he came forward. “I am Chance’s da, Morgan.”
She smiled warmly, so relieved to see a welcome in his eyes. “However did you know my name?”
“How could I not? ’Tis all m’boy spoke of when he was in the kitchens yesterday telling Cook just what she must prepare for ye.”
Her lashes lowered with a shy pleasure she could not explain, and Morgan LeBlanc laughed out loud. “Aye, I see it, lass—aye that I do.”
“See it?” she asked in some puzzlement.
“Don’t be backwards in this,” he cautioned. “This is yer time, and doona let it go.” He sighed and added, “I’ll tell ye something, lass—that lad of mine has never brought a woman into our home before. Ye be the first. Ye will do well to remember that.”
&nbs
p; “Oh … that is because I was injured in battle …” she started to explain.
He barked out a short, gruff laugh. “Blind, are ye? Very well. So be it.”
“What are you saying, sir?”
“Doona ye know?” He shook his handsome head and released a long sigh. “It won’t be easy—he isn’t a pliable man, but … you’ll do.”
“Your words are more confusing than clear—what are you trying to tell me?” she asked, although she had a very good notion. She just didn’t want to make any mistakes. It was all too important.
“He has this stubborn notion that if he were to make a commitment … well, ye see, it is all about what happened to his mother …” His voice trailed off, and Morgan LeBlanc looked to the heavens and closed his eyes.
She felt a wave of sympathy and compassion for him and said softly, “I know. Chance mentioned something—not all, but something.” She had fallen into step beside him as they walked, but at her words he stopped and turned.
His tone was incredulous. “He told ye aboot that, did he?” He slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and began leading her back towards the house. “Then I’d best be telling ye the rest.”
“Oh, not if it is painful, sir …”
“Morgan, ye call me Morgan. Aye, painful—it will forever be painful, but I’ll be telling ye all the same.” He shook his head and sighed. “My own dear sweet …” He sighed again. “She was a stubborn one was my bride … the darling mother of m’bairns.” He stopped again and looked at her. “Forgive me. It has been a long time since I spoke of it.”
“Don’t … then …”
“No, ye must know. Right then, we—a team of our own—were rounding up a few escaped Dark Fae, keeping the humans safe some centuries ago, as we do when ye Fae don’t heal the breach in the magic wall of their prison quick enough. I asked her to stay home with young Lana, but would she?” He shook his head. “Not she. When we took too long, longer than she expected, she left Lana at home with a friend and went into the village—our village, which should have been as safe for her, night or day, as was her own home.”
