Passion Over Time (31 page)

Even in light, his features appeared cast in shadow. Dark brows arched over heavily hooded, piercing eyes. Thick black hair slicked back and hung to his broad shoulders. Full lips hinted at a smile. Fine lines creased the corners of his eyes. Although his nose was large, it suited his face. Whiskers covered his strong, square jaw, but he didn’t grow a beard, more that he’d neglected to shave. Men she usually dated—if you could call the few recent excursions dates—never wore facial hair.

“Please don’t let me keep you from your usual tasks.” She returned her attention to the jewelry. “This is quite boring for most people.” She needed him to leave. Her concentration was nil with his brooding stare inflaming her wanton libido.
Wanton.
She mentally snorted. About as wanton as the Queen of England.

“You’ll find I’m not like most people.”

She started.
Bloody hell not
. Now he stood directly behind her. She hadn’t noticed him move from the corner. Moist breath warmed her bare neck. Awareness chased up her spine. Feeling flushed, she waved her hand in front of her face. Simply his proximity heated her flesh. Dampness soaked her panties and if he came any closer she’d likely spontaneously melt.

A clock chimed the hour. “Dinner will be served shortly.”

Yes, a reprieve from this confounded intimate atmosphere.
“I am famished. We missed tea.” She carefully placed the stone she held on the velvet then faced him. “I’d like to go to my room for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He escorted her out of the office. “Don’t think me forgetful, but I won’t be able to find it.”

He chuckled and she stumbled. An arm shot out around her waist and steadied her. She jerked her gaze to meet his.

Something in his smile made her heart lurch. Achingly familiar, as if… No. She was sure they’d never met before today.

Gentle pressure of his fingers on her hip made her weak. The room began to spin.

Cleopatra gazed into the heavens. The swaying motion of the Felucca sailboat kept pace with the plunge of Mark Antony’s enormous cock into her heated passage. She wrapped her legs around his hips and met his rhythmic strokes with forward thrusts. Her heart beat in tandem with his. “I love you,” she whispered.

Stars winked in the canopy of black above. The gentle lap of water against the hull and the wet sounds of their joined bodies blended with the sounds of the jungle on either side of the Nile. Intermittently, the splash of a crocodile rippled the waters.

She held him with unabashed longing. Heart and soul eternally bound to her lover.

“Are you afraid?” Mark’s gentle voice intruded on the rustle of reeds and flowers of papyrus that grew densely along the banks.

“Never with you.” She clung to his shoulders as her body crested. His cock stretched her on each down stroke, sliding smoothly into her drenched heat and creating intense friction when he retracted. Her walls tightened around his thickness in an effort to keep him buried deep. Blood surged into her swollen folds. Burning pleasure rolled through her body. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply the intoxicating aroma of their blended arousal. She melted around him. “Yes,” she cried. Her words echoed over the water into the cocooning night. With this man she feared nothing…not even the water that could claim her eternal soul if she drowned. Mark protected her, loved her, and had for millennia.

Moist air dampened their slicked skin. Mark slid against her and her breasts pressed against his chest. Leveraging higher, he thrust deeper. The boat pitched and gently swayed. Their lips met and tongues sparred in an erotic dance of taste and retreat.

Mark growled as he neared the precipice of release. His cock surged, felt thicker, and pounded deeper. She took all of him. Locking her legs around his hips, she rocked her pelvis. Muscles in his back bunched beneath her fingers. She held tight while spasms jolted his hips. He roared into the solitude. Shudders racked his body. Finally, he rolled to the side, gasping for breath, and draped an arm over his eyes.

Cleopatra rolled over and nuzzled against his chest. Sex always left them breathless and spent. Without each other they weren’t complete, which is why with every rebirth she returned to him…why she stayed away from open water.

“Bassam has prepared fresh fish.”

She stared, trying to keep Mark in focus, but he began to fade.

The dream lover morphed into the master of this castle, the same, yet with subtle differences. Selene blinked a few times. Tamping down her arousal was difficult with her pulse throbbing between her legs. The lingering effect of the vision still strummed her fervid longings. Her heated desires had moistened her thighs.

Selene scrutinized Anthony. Could he tell she was aroused? If he did, he didn’t make issue of it. “Fish sounds heavenly. Who is Bassam?” The unusual name was familiar to her.

“He’s my brother.”

“Do you have a large family?”

“Four brothers. I’ve become closest to Bassam since he came to live with me…a few years ago.” Anthony escorted her through the castle. “Andreas, the youngest, lives in America but he visits. He’s the rebel in the family. And I don’t see much of the twins.”

“That sometimes happens in families. Lives become too busy. A person can forget what is most important.”

“I can assure you I haven’t.”

Selene stared into his face. No, this man would be possessive of those important to him. “I didn’t mean to imply anything disparaging toward you.”

He chuckled and the hard lines in his face softened. “You haven’t offended me.” They continued on to her guestroom.

Anthony paused at the door. “Do you think you can find the dining room?”

“I’ll follow my nose. I can smell dinner, and I’m ravenous.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. Bassam is a magician in the culinary arts. We have staff, but he occasionally prepares meals for special guests.”

“Then I’m honored.”

Anthony left her. The massive oak door to her room creaked open. Selene crossed the room to the large bed. Ornate tapestries hung on the whitewashed walls. The castle had been modernized but the history of the building was still discernable in the stone flooring and high ceilings. Large windows with wide sills revealed the thickness of the fortress. While she was here, she’d enjoy doing some research on the castle. Perhaps Mr. Mager would share what he knew. That was if she could be next to the man without thinking about banging him on a table in the great hall.

Selene opened her suitcase and chose a brightly colored gypsy skirt and black tank top. She’d brought the outfit and a couple of gold bangles for her wrist on the off chance she made it into the village for sightseeing or a meal. She chose a bendable bracelet and manipulated the metal, wrapping it around her upper arm.

Before heading to the kitchen to meet Anthony she glanced into the antique beveled mirror above the stout dresser. Maybe it was handling Cleopatra’s emeralds, the vision of Mark Antony, or because she was in a castle with a lord named Anthony, but she didn’t feel like herself. Instead, a seductive and alluring woman emerged.

She stepped into the hall. The door closed behind her. She’d paid careful attention when Anthony had walked her to the guestroom. If she was going to spend the weekend in the monstrous fortress she needed to get her bearings. Her soft-soled shoes were whisper-quiet on the stone flooring. Finally, she turned a corner and the great hall lay before her.

Anthony turned from the massive hearth he faced at the opposite end of the room. “Selene,” he breathed. She blushed under his stare. “You look stunning. Join me for a drink.” He strode to the dining table in the middle of the room.

Selene started forward, her gaze glued to his strong fingers as he reached for the decanter and poured deep red wine into a heavy goblet. She accepted the glass. Her fingers wrapped around the base and a wave of dizziness washed over her. The modern world vanished. But this wasn’t ancient Egypt either.

This was sixteenth century England. Her name was Cara.

She whirled around, her gaze taking in the crowded room, but she didn’t recognize anyone. Or maybe she did, but the memories were vague. Yet she knew she was home…but that was impossible.

Her heart spiked. This was the same castle…the same room where Anthony had just poured her wine, but he was gone. Only the room was the same.

Voices chattered around her amidst chaos and noise. The squeal of a pig pierced the air. Women gathered around the fire in the hearth. The postern door was thrown open and men entered the great hall. Leading them was Markus, her warrior. His sculpted chest was bare. His hair hung in thick locks to the middle of his back.

He crossed the room with purposeful strides. Her breath hitched as lust heated her blood.

“Miss me?” His hands twisted in her hair and savagely pulled her mouth to his. His clever tongue swept past her lips with bold strokes while his palm firmly kneaded her breast. He shifted his hips so that his erection ground into the moist juncture between her thighs. Fierce desire raged through her being. She didn’t care about the men and women around them. She needed his hands on her…in her. Passion flared and she crushed her body to his.

“Out,” he bellowed to his men. Those around them were accustomed to their ardent desires. A few men hollered good cheers, as they left the master of the castle alone with his woman. Markus pushed her against the thick wood table. She scooted onto the top and spread her legs. He hiked up her skirts and slid his hand between her thighs. His fingertips trailed along her sensitive flesh. She tried to wriggle into a better position.

“Ah, my sweet is ready for me. Would you like me to fuck you here on the table?” His blunt finger slid between her soaked folds, but she wanted more.

“Yes.” She dug her fingernails into his thick forearm and urged him deeper. With a chuckle, he plunged a second finger, then a third. Cara cried out as he finger fucked her hard. Twisting, turning, and pushing deep until cream trickled from her honeyed core. Flashes of euphoria caused a quickening deep in her channel. Liquid heat flowed through her veins. Her body convulsed around Markus and she thought of nothing but him.

Having had enough foreplay, he tossed up her skirts.

Markus loosened the ties of his pants and stepped onto the bench so his groin was level with her. Swollen and dripping with precome, his cock thrust toward her face. “Take me into your mouth.” He put a hand on the back of her head and guided her mouth to his bobbing penis.

Cara opened wide and licked the pearly moisture from the head. She circled her tongue around the silken crown before sucking him into her mouth. Up and down, slurping him deep, flicking her tongue against the slit while she glanced up into his face and smiled. Her tongue traced the bulging vein along the underside of his rigid shaft. Then she kissed the heavy sac hanging beneath. Pulling the smooth ball into her mouth she rolled it between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. All the while her hand pumped his shaft, working the heated flesh in a gentle vise made by her fingers.

“Ah, my sweet wench is hungry for me.”

She pulled back, but continued to stroke him with her small fist. “Aye.” Then she swallowed his cock again and wrapped her hands around his thick thighs and inched her fingers over his firm arse. After kneading the muscles, she moved her hand back to his shaft. Her fingers wrapped tight at the base of his length, worked his taut flesh as he pumped his hips, thrusting his cock into her mouth in a frenzied gyration. His hands held the sides of her head.

Markus roared and pulled from her mouth. Climbing onto the table, he positioned Cara on her back. Grabbing her ankles, he brought them to his shoulders. With his knees braced against the table, he guided his cock into her sweet heat.

Cara moaned shamelessly. She didn’t care who heard. This was her warrior and she’d spread her thighs for him anywhere. Markus ripped her bodice open, baring her breasts. He played with the firm globes, pinching the nipples, while he pistoned into her drenched core.

“This is how a man shows a woman she’s loved.” Markus continued to slam into her heated depths.

Pleasure sizzled. Her body spiraled out of control. “Yes, yes, yes!” She cried out as her walls milked his cock. Her heart thundered. Panting for breath and throbbing from release, she clutched her lover. Markus threw back his head and hollered into the great hall. His body jerked and he filled her full of his hot cream.

Selena blinked her surroundings into focus. The great hall was quiet.

“Where am I?”

Anthony’s lips tilted into a smile.

“Oh my, I’m sorry,” she said breathless. “I’m not sure what’s come over me.” Selene wiped beads of perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. The man was going to think her insane. Granted she’d missed tea, but lack of sustenance could hardly be blamed for her lapse in time.

The last thing she recalled was taking a goblet of wine from her host. Next thing she knew she was getting banged on the table in a dining room without a care for propriety. She glanced down to see she still gripped the goblet.

Her knees weakened and she sat on the chair beside her. Anthony caught the goblet as her fingers loosened and he set it on the table. He took the seat to her right. Selene nodded her thanks.