He tore his mouth away and gazed at her with eyes blazing so intensely, she was sure she’d melt.
She whispered, “Now.”
Without hesitation, he left her. As she absently heard thunder fill the air, she watched with fascination as he removed his jeans and then leaned forward and in one, quick, luscious jerk, he pulled her panties down her legs. He smoothed the lace up over her hips as she reached for him to bring him to her.
He spread her thighs and surged over her and with one, fierce, beautiful, fluid movement he filled her.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Yes,” Beatrice breathed.
They were finally naked on the cloak, skin against skin. Royce had taken pains to make her ready for him, he’d tasted her, tempted her, teased her. He couldn’t believe the beauty of her body, could not believe she was all his, to touch with his hands, his lips, his mouth.
He was certainly going to enjoy a lifetime of this. Very, very much.
Now with his head bent to her breast, he pulled her nipple sharply in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and listening to her soft, exquisite moans.
His fingers had found resistance earlier but he had loosened it using her unwavering trust in him against her instincts, as well as his talented fingers, and they were now, finally inside her.
And she was dripping wet.
She was ready for him.
He spread her legs and rolled between them while his mouth took hers in a sweet kiss, his hands moving to frame her face.
“This will hurt, my love,” he murmured against her lips as he found her with the tip of his shaft and, controlling his hips with an immense effort of will, he slid inside her just an inch.
Her eyes grew wide as she felt his invasion.
“Royce,” she breathed.
He slid in more, mere centimetres and gritted his teeth. He had avoided death in countless gory battles on countless blood-drenched battlefields but the exquisite torture of her lush tightness was finally going to kill him.
“I can’t stop the pain, but I shall try and make it…” He had to stop speaking and again grit his teeth so he wouldn’t drive into her with the wild abandon his body was demanding but only press in less than an inch more.
“I can’t…” she whispered.
“You can, my sweet.” He slid in further. “Trust me.”
“I can’t…” It was softer this time and her head moved to the side as he slowly inched in and let her adjust to his further intrusion.
“Trust me,” he repeated.
“I can’t…” she said and then with a glorious jerk, she slammed her hips down towards his. She emitted a soft cry of pain that was drowned out with his low growl as she embedded him fully inside her.
Her eyes opened and they were clear and trusting when she finished, “Wait.”
In both times, the golden air sparkled brightly with white-hot flashes, some of them nearly blue. They tingled skin, the glittered through hair, they brightened the air and they flashed everywhere like fireworks close to the ground.
In the kitchen at Lacybourne…
“Oh my…” Mags muttered, staring at the air.
“Don’t stop chanting,” Marian ordered, staring in the pot.
Close to a copse of trees outside Lacybourne…
“Dear goddess…” Esmeralda breathed as the sparks tingled her skin.
The dark soul cursed under its breath.
Royce drove in further, deeper, hearing her soft panting and feeling it throughout his body as Beatrice’s hands moved, restless and demanding, all over him.
“Royce, something… is happening… to me.” She couldn’t control her voice.
“Let go, my sweet, let it happen,” he urged
Trusting him, her head tilted back, her neck arched, she lifted her knees and he drove into her deeper as he buried his face in her neck and listened with profound satisfaction to the glorious sound of the pleasure overwhelming his sweet, beautiful new bride.
Colin felt Sibyl lift her knees and he buried his face in her neck, her movements allowing him to thrust his cock even deeper inside her and she quietly panted.
“Colin, I think I’m going to…”
And then he listened with profound satisfaction to the glorious sound of his sweet, beautiful new fiancée’s orgasm.
Royce Morgan found his own release moments later and after he did, the rain came.
Colin Morgan came back to himself after his intense climax and vaguely heard the rain against the windows.
Then, magic shafting through time, the two worlds collided.
And for a brief moment, all time stopped.
Chapter Thirty
History Shifts
Royce lifted his head. With great reluctance, he had slid out of Beatrice but he did this with utmost care, not wishing to cause her pain after her pleasure. At the same time he lifted his head, he moved his hand to smooth her lustrous, dark hair.
But his hand arrested for her hair was not dark.
It was blonde. It was the same colour as his own.
“You.” He watched the dazed pleasure fade slowly from her familiarly unfamiliar eyes as she focussed on him.
He knew her.
“Oh my goddess!” She jerked beneath him but he kept his weight firmly on top of her.
He wanted answers and, this time, he was going to get them.
And what Royce Morgan wanted, he found a way to get.
“Where is Beatrice?” he demanded, his hand, instead of smoothing, gently but firmly fisted in her silky, golden locks.
Her eyes turned panicked. “I don’t know,” she answered, blinked, her body shifted slightly under his and then she rapped out a string of quick questions, “What are you doing? What are we doing? What were you doing with Beatrice?”
His voice held an edge. “Bring her back, I want her back.”
“Colin is going to kill me,” she muttered, what he considered absurdly, and she did this as if to herself as she tried to wriggle out from beneath him.
Considering he’d just consummated his union with his beloved bride, he’d done this soundly and with great pleasure for the both of them and now, mere moments later, another being was lying naked beneath him, Royce lost patience.
Therefore he did not check himself and roared, “I want her back!”
She shook her head, “I can’t… I don’t know how to bring her back.” Then she stated urgently, “Royce, please, you must listen to me, did you just make love to Beatrice?”
“You are a witch,” he declared and started to pull away, to bring them up. He couldn’t have this conversation lying naked atop her. But she wrapped her soft limbs around him and something in her eyes, her familiar, beloved eyes, halted him.
“Listen to me,” she begged, her words both urgent and panicked. “Did you just make love to Beatrice?”
“Yes,” he snarled.
And to his surprise, her face cleared immediately and she sang, “Hallelujah!” just as tears sprung in her eyes. She tilted her head back and she shouted it again. “Hallelujah!”
He stared at her, everything about her was so familiar, even her sweet touch of lunacy.
“Are you mad?” he asked softly, finding his angry confusion had melted away and he was suddenly concerned.
She pulled her arms from his body, put both her hands to his cheeks and gave him a quick kiss. When she pulled away, he noted she was crying freely but she still went on. “No, I’m not mad.”