Authors: Christina Phillips
Antonia pressed her cheek against Gawain’s chest and trailed
the tips of her fingers along his back. His heart thudded against her face,
strong and reassuring. His hand cradled the back of her head, an endearingly
possessive gesture and involuntarily her fingers dug into his hips.
He groaned and she instantly pulled back, guilt eating
through her.
“I’m sorry.” Her fingers fluttered over his naked hips,
where his braccae had slipped revealing not simply his irresistible body but
also more livid bruising. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Antonia.” His exotic accent caressed each syllable of her
name and she forgot about not looking him in the eyes again. “You didn’t hurt
me. It’s impossible for you to hurt me.” He paused, and his beautiful mouth
curved into a teasing smile. “Unless you stop touching me.”
She flattened her palms over his bronzed chest, and tried to
ignore the evidence of his recent attack. In the years to come, she wanted to
remember him as he truly was, not recall the superficial injuries the
praetor
had inflicted as a demonstration of his power.
“I cannot stay long.” She had brought another slave woman
with her, as Elpis once again had not offered to accompany her. And while the
slave was loyal, Antonia had not confided the real reason she had journeyed to
the tribune’s villa.
For a brief goodbye to the man who held her heart. How
foolish to imagine anything with Gawain could be brief. But while she longed to
stay in his arms for the rest of the day and night, her time was short.
If the
praetor
found out about this illicit visit, he
would never believe it had been an innocent meeting between her and Carys. A
shiver crawled along her spine. Had he set spies on her here in Britannia, the
way he had in Rome?
“One day, you will never leave my side, Antonia.” Gawain
cupped her bottom, his strong hands warm and firm and quivers of need claimed
her pussy.
She could not leave without loving him one more time.
“One day, perhaps.” Every day in her dreams. She forced a
smile to her lips so he could not guess her thoughts. “But alas, that day is
not today.”
“No.” His eyes darkened. “Not today.” He made it sound as
though the fact she would one day remain by his side was a foregone conclusion.
Or was she so blinded by her own love and need for him that she was seeing more
in his every word and gesture?
In the end, it didn’t matter, except to her heart. The
outcome would be the same, however he felt about her.
She slid her hands beneath his braccae, her fingers clinging
to the taut curve of his backside. Still clasping her bottom he tugged her
against him and his erection dug into her belly. The proof of his arousal sent
swirls of need pulsing between her thighs, a desperate need that after today
would never again be satisfied.
She sank against him and felt his cock thicken farther. His
grip on her arse became predatory, unyielding, and her pussy throbbed for his
possession. She rose onto her toes, deliberately sliding her body against his
rigid shaft, and his groan of frustration echoed through the room.
“I’m going to make love to you.” Her promise whispered
against his lips and he grinned in clear appreciation. Their affair had begun
through pure desire and the need to experience something other than her former
husband’s selfish touch. It was only sex, the joining of a man and woman for
mutual satisfaction. How little she had truly known. Had she really imagined
she could walk away at the end of this liaison with nothing but enhanced sexual
knowledge to show for it?
When she left Gawain today, he would despise her. But in
time, when he recalled their last encounter, she wanted him to remember it with
fire in his blood and passion in his heart. Even if the fire was nothing more
than lust and the passion stoked with fury, she wanted, more than anything, for
him to never forget her.
No matter how selfish that desire was.
“You read my mind.” His hands molded her waist, his heat
scorching through her gown and branding her flesh. How easy it would be to let
him make love to her, to savor every touch and cherish every demanding kiss.
She still intended to savor and cherish but for once, he
would not be in control.
“No.” She tugged his braccae over his thighs, her breasts
crushed against his broad chest. “You are going to be under my command, Gawain.
All you have to do is suffer my touch.”
He laughed, and with a swift movement ripped his braccae
down his legs and tossed them across the floor. She smiled and shook her head
in mock displeasure at his instant response to take over.
“Then make me suffer, my lady. My body is in your hands.”
Amusement threaded through every word and to underscore his surrender he took a
step back from her.
Her gaze traveled over his beloved face. Beneath the torn
and bruised flesh, his proud, aristocratic bearing was plainly visible. His
dark blond hair hung loose to his shoulders and the enchanting amber flecks in
his irises were all but obliterated as desire darkened his eyes.
His muscled shoulders were worthy of the greatest warrior,
but she knew only too well how comforting it could be to lay her head against
them. His chiseled chest, scored with old scars and discolored by his recent
abuse, would strike fear into any enemy. Yet how tenderly he had often held her
against him, when the thud of his heart soothed her wounded soul.
“And what a beautiful body you have.” Hunger gnawed the pit
of her stomach as she devoured the hard planes of his abdomen. A hunger she
knew would torment her for the rest of her life.
“My body isn’t beautiful, Antonia.” He sounded on the verge
of laughing again, but did not attempt to pull her into his arms. “Now your
body, that is a different matter. And you’re not playing fair. Why are you
still dressed when I’m naked for your blatant delight?”
For a moment, she caught his gaze. His eyes were warm, not
only with lust. He had taught her that sex could be fun and even if she hadn’t
been foolish enough to fall in love with him, for that reason alone he would
always hold a special place in her heart.
“Who said I intended to play fair?” And because she knew how
much he enjoyed touching her hair, she slid one finger into a ringlet that fell
over her shoulder. He watched, mesmerized, as she gently tugged on her curl
with her thumb while her finger rotated inside the silken threads.
“I see you plan to torture me before I’m subjected to your
touch.”
“Such a cruel thought had never crossed my mind.” She pulled
her ringlet to the limit of its endurance before letting it spring back into
place. Gawain’s gaze remained riveted on her hair, and she took the opportunity
to admire the perfect musculature of his flat stomach.
And his thick, glorious cock that jutted proudly upward
across his belly. Pleasurable cramps rippled between her thighs, and heat
bathed her sensitive pussy. She wanted to press herself against him, rub her
tender lips along his swollen rod and gain a measure of instant satisfaction.
But if she did that, he would wrap her in his arms. Sweep
her onto his bed and worship her body in the way only Gawain knew how. And she
would let him and forever curse her lack of resolve.
Instead, she stepped toward him and slowly speared her
fingers through his hair, tugging at his temples, letting the soft strands
caress her palms. Once again she rolled onto her toes and this time brushed her
lips over his.
He cupped her hips but didn’t tug her forward. He seemed
content, at the moment, to endure whatever form of torture she devised.
She nibbled his bottom lip and felt him smile, but he didn’t
open his mouth for her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him still,
although he had shown no indication of moving.
She slid the tip of her tongue along the seam of his mouth,
sculpting his shape, probing for entry. Finally he opened for her and a breathy
sigh escaped as she delved inside.
Their tongues touched. His fingers trailed up from her hips,
molding the dip of her waist. Knife sharp prickles of sensation shivered over
her skin, even though she was not even naked. Her nipples pebbled and she
struggled against the primal urge to flatten herself against Gawain’s hard body
for momentary relief.
His tongue invaded her willing mouth, intent on possession.
She wound his hair around her fingers, loving his length, the silken strands;
the way he growled in her mouth as she tugged on him.
She loved the feel of him inside her, the tip of his tongue
exploring. Gently she sucked on him, and a feral need awakened deep within her
aching cleft.
She wanted more.
Panting she pulled back and stared into his dark eyes. His
breathing was ragged and his hands curled around her rib cage, his thumbs
grazing the undersides of her breasts. She dragged her fingers through his hair
and cradled his face, the roughness of his unshaved jaw prickling her palms.
She stretched up and brushed a butterfly kiss across his
torn flesh. With tender dedication, she kissed his bruised and battered skin,
as though by doing so she could somehow help him heal.
“Do you intend to kiss every injury with such devotion?” His
voice was husky as he angled his head so she could gain easier access to his
throat.
“Yes.” She breathed the word against his pulse, inhaling his
evocative scent and this time detecting the underlying hint of astringent that
had been used to clean his wounds. She screwed her eyes shut for a moment,
forced the shadowy fears away. Gawain was safe. He would remain safe. She had
the
praetor
’s word.
“Do you wish me to show you my most severe injuries?” His
cock jerked against her belly as he spoke and she gave a soft laugh at his
unvoiced hope.
“No. I can manage by myself, thank you.” She chanced another
look into his eyes and the potent combination of amusement and desire caused
liquid heat to trickle between her thighs. She stirred restlessly then stilled
as Gawain rubbed his thumbs over her throbbing nipples. “Do you wish me to
stop?”
He groaned in mock defeat and abandoned her nipples to
cradle her bottom. She wasn’t sure that helped. His hands on her body were a
delightful distraction no matter where he put them.
“I’m at your mercy, my lady. Do with me what you will.”
Antonia slid her hands to his throat and then sculpted the
rock-hard contours of his shoulders. Gently she pressed her lips against his bruised
chest and Gawain shifted beneath her touch.
“Am I—?” She didn’t have the chance to finish her question
as his fingers dug into her bottom and jerked her roughly against his erection.
“No.” His voice was as rough as his actions. “You’re not
hurting me. But I wish to the gods that you would.”
“Oh.” She offered him a wicked smile and before he could
react to that she dipped her head and sucked his nipple. Hard.
“Enchantress.” It sounded like a curse.
He tasted of the forest, wild, fresh, with intriguing salty
undertones. She tantalized him with her teeth and scraped her nails along his
rigid biceps. She knew he wanted her to bite harder, to gouge his flesh. And
although she also knew that no matter what she did it was unlikely she could
ever hurt him, she simply couldn’t do it.
And so her fingernails teased him and her teeth tormented
him with a restrained passion. The constraints she imposed fueled her own
desire and she pressed her thighs together and squirmed helplessly.
“Remove this gown.” Gawain’s voice was hoarse as he began to
tug her gown up around her hips. She wriggled and slapped his hand, then
gripped his wrist in warning.
“Stop distracting me.”
“I want to distract you. You’re concentrating far too hard.
I won’t bleed.” He paused for a fleeting moment as she attempted to sling him a
sizzling look of displeasure. And failed. “Even if I do bleed, I assure you,
I’ll greatly enjoy it.”
He had already bled because of her. His face would be
scarred because of her. She knew, in her head, this was completely different
and yet her heart flinched at inflicting more pain on him. Even if this pain
would give him nothing but pleasure.
“It’s not your place to instruct your torturer on how to
proceed.”
“I’m having second thoughts about being your willing victim.”
“Trust me.” She traced the sensual outline of his lips with
her finger and managed to avoid his attempt to suck her inside his mouth. “I
will make it worth your while.”
He dropped her gown with a flourish. “Just remember,
everything you inflict upon me I intend to repay with interest.”
Her throat closed and she couldn’t answer. What could she
say? Blatantly lie to him that she looked forward to his sexual retribution
when she knew it was nothing but an impossible dream?
She avoided eye contact by once again lavishing attention on
his injuries. She kissed and licked every graze, every discolored bloom of
flesh, while her fingernails raked a featherlight touch across his biceps and
forearms. His hair tickled her fingers and as she moved down his body, his
dusting of chest hair caressed her cheek and lips.
The head of his cock, slick with desire, rammed against her
chin and she froze. Gawain growled; a primal sound that vibrated the length of
his hard body. But he didn’t grip her head, didn’t try to force her to do what
he so very clearly wanted her to do.
She swallowed, felt his shaft move against her throat.
Slowly she rose, and inched her way around Gawain until she faced his back. The
indentation of a chain lash striped across his magnificent shoulders and her
stomach clenched in shame.
Her fault.
“Do you wish me to pose for your pleasure?” There was a
strained note in his voice, although the glance he slung over his shoulder
showed dark amusement. Without waiting for an answer, he flexed his biceps,
showing the breathtaking contours of his perfect musculature across his
shoulders and torso.
Instinctively she stepped back, so she could more easily
admire the play of muscles across his lower back and tight arse. Her mouth
dried and fingers clutched her gown at the hypnotic show. He moved as if intent
on capturing her interest, the way a pleasure slave might.
The thought slapped across her mind, a frigid, unwelcome
thought. She gripped his arms, momentarily pressing her body against his back
to still his provocative display.
“Enough.” Her voice was husky with need. She wanted him to
hold her, to tell her everything was going to be all right. If she showed the
slightest vulnerability, he would do just that. And she would despise herself
for always, even more than she did right now. “You distract me to the edge of
my reason.”
“And I, Antonia, am barely clinging to the edge of my
reason.”
Despite her fatalistic thoughts, she smiled. He could always
make her smile. She pressed a kiss over his shoulder blade and he flexed it one
more time in arrogant disregard of her command.
She worked her way down his back until she kneeled on the
floor, eye level with his buttocks. She had only seen one other male backside
before Gawain’s, and there was no comparison. Holding her erratic breath, she
ran her finger along his spine and dipped into the crevice between his taut
arse cheeks.
He jerked, obviously not expecting such a touch and widened
his stance. “Better?” His voice was deliciously raw with frustrated need.
Her heart thundered in her breast and her breath escaped in
a ragged gasp. Speech was beyond her. She traced the curve of his firm arse to
the inside of his thigh and then repeated the maneuver on his other taut cheek.
His fists clenched against his thighs, the muscles on his
forearms and biceps bulging with reined in tension. The knowledge that he was
holding back so she could explore and learn his body caused a bittersweet pain
to engulf her heart.
She slid her arms around his thighs and pressed her cheek
against the firm swell of his backside. He curled his hands around her arms,
just above her wrists. It was a light touch, one of tenderness. To convey he
wanted to touch her, not command her. No matter how much he might wish to.
The tips of her fingers stroked his shaft. He was hot, hard
and the sensation was enhanced because she could not see his impressive organ.
Her breath was uneven as she cupped his heavy sac. His light
grip on her arms tightened and his arse tensed. Daringly, she nipped his
succulent flesh and squeezed his vulnerable balls. His Celtic curse ricocheted
around the room and his fingers bit into her arms.
“Be still,” she panted, her gaze riveted on the mark of
possession she had inflicted on him. “I didn’t draw blood.”
His hoarse laugh sounded pained. “I can’t promise to remain
still. Your methods of torture slay me.”
She smiled and couldn’t resist giving his backside another
leisurely nibble. His cock jerked in her hand and her grip around him
tightened. His shaft was so thick her finger and thumb could not meet around
him. The memories of all the times he had filled her hammered through her mind
and her pussy quivered with need.
“I haven’t finished yet.” Her whisper was jagged and in
response, he flexed his arse in a deliberately provocative manner. She slid her
hand along his rigid length and then brushed her thumb over his wet slit. His
moan of appreciation rumbled through his chest.
Slowly she pulled back and curled her hands over his hips.
He didn’t move a muscle, simply waited for her next move.
Nerves and anticipation fluttered in her stomach. She wanted
to do this.
She could do this
. Because he was Gawain, and he expected
nothing from her that she was not willing to give.
“Turn around.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. She
sounded like a sultry siren from ancient myths.
He turned, and she stared in silent worship at his glorious
cock. She had often looked at it, touched it, and the truth was that this part
of his body fascinated her. But she had never put her mouth to him. He had
never asked her to, after that first humiliating time when she had made a fool
of herself.
“You look like a goddess kneeling at my feet.” There was a
note of awe in his voice as if he could not quite believe his eyes. “A goddess
should not kneel before a mortal man.”
His words tore through the web of nerves that threatened to
overcome her. She looked up at him and caught the reverential expression on his
face. One of them might well have the blood of the immortals in their veins,
and it wasn’t her.
“You make me feel like a goddess, Gawain.” She deliberately
allowed her breath to drift across his erection and he swallowed, clearly
struggling to cling onto his control. “But more than that, you make me feel
like a woman should.”
“Antonia.” His voice was deep, threaded with desire, and
need coiled tighter in her breast and between her thighs. In her peripheral
vision, she saw him clench his fists, clearly fighting the imperative to grip
her head and force his cock into her mouth.
But Gawain would never do that. It was the reason why she
wanted to give him this parting gift. Something he would, she prayed, remember
with pleasure when his anger had finally cooled.
She took a deep breath. The indefinable scent of fresh male
sweat combined with the heady odor of arousal caused damp heat to slick her
pussy. She wrapped one hand around his shaft and felt him throb against her
palm.
“Sit back on the bed.” Her voice was uneven and she pushed
ineffectively against the top of his thigh with her free hand. It was like
trying to shift a mountain.
“No. If I move I may break this spell.”
“You won’t.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the
swollen head of his erection. Pre-come coated his slit. She had the sudden,
savage urge to discover his taste. “I promise you won’t.”
He plunged his fingers into her hair and held her head as he
stepped back. She shuffled forward, uncaring of the dirt floor that was surely
staining her gown. The bed was lower than she was used to, and when Gawain sat
with a pained grunt, he stretched out his legs and trapped her between his
granite-hard thighs.
Now she was level with his face. Her thumb caressed his
sensitive glans, his slick arousal sliding across her skin like ambrosia from
the gods.
Slowly she bent her head. His fingers were still buried in
her hair. She licked her lips, her mouth dry with nerves. But the butterflies
in her stomach and the erratic pound of her heart were nothing like the blind
panic she’d always experienced before when in a similar position.
She had never been in a similar position.
Gawain’s hands cradled her head, his grip firm. But there
was no malice behind it. She knew she only had to lift her head and he would
never try to stop her.
The knowledge spurred her courage. She held his shaft, his
length a mesmeric temptation. Her thumb slid from his head and pressed against
his rigid flesh, leaving a delicate trail of his pre-come.
She held her breath and tentatively flicked the tip of her
tongue along the underside of his erection. The faint taste of his arousal
rippled across her tongue and raw pleasure surged through her core. Even the
painful jab of his fingers against her skull, his instinctive response to her
wet touch, did not alarm.
“Your promise was true.” His voice rasped with barely
contained lust. “This spell continues.”
Her breath escaped in a rush, leaving her lightheaded. She
could not tear her gaze from his cock.
“This enchantment will never end.” The words were whispered,
not meant for his ears. Not meant to be uttered aloud at all. Yet the pressure
of his fingers, the way he hitched in a sharp breath, told her he had heard.
She leaned in closer, one hand splayed against his hip for
added balance. The glistening head of his cock enthralled her. This time she
would do more than merely look, as she had before. This time…
The thought drifted through her mind, an unimportant
distraction. She knew what she would do.