Page 58 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

“I’m ready.” I’m surprised by the sure steadiness in my voice. “But Laura, are you sure you want this? Want… me? With all my history and scars?” Though I gesture to the scars on my chest, we both know the mess my life has made of my brain is even more disturbing.

She closes the remaining distance between us, her hand cupping my cheek. The touch jolts straight to my cock, which pulses in response.

“I wantall of you, Varro,” she whispers. “Every scar, every memory, every piece of who you are. I lo…” She interrupts herself, biting her lip. “You’re everything to me.”

The almost-confession hangs in the air between us, filling me with a warmth I’ve never experienced before. I lean into her touch, marveling at how right it feels.

“Then show me,” I murmur, my voice low and husky. “Show me, tell me how you want me to use my… other sword.”

Laura’s eyes darken with desire, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“I’m not your Domina, Varro. You be in charge. Trust me, I’ll let you know if I don’t like what you’re doing, though if you knew all the filthy thoughts that have been pounding in my brain for the last months, you’d know there’s very little you could do that would make me ask you to stop.”

As she leans in to kiss me, her lips mere inches from mine, I know with absolute certainty that this is right.

Sinking me to the bottom of the sea to wait for two thousand years wasn’t a cruel punishment by the Gods. It was a gift. This is where I’m meant to be.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Laura

One minute we’re talking rationally like two adults negotiating a one-night stand. The next, he sweeps me into his powerful embrace.

It’s been months since those blazing moments we shared when my chest was pressed against the cottage door and he was touching me as though his fingertips sparked fire. I’d forgotten how rock-hard every inch of his body is. If anything, my fingers gripping the slabs of muscle at his shoulders tell me he’s even harder, stronger than he was before.

And then there’s his scent. Sweat and sea air, rich and intoxicating, overpowering the crisp outdoor scent of approaching spring.

I sink into him, inhaling deeply. His fingers caress the side of my face as I tilt my head up to meet his lips. He hesitates for a moment, just long enough for me to wonder if he’s changed his mind—but then he crashes down on me like a tidal wave, taking my breath away.

The kiss is all tongue and teeth and desperation, lips parting hungrily as we groan into each other’s mouths. Our tonguesdance and duel, hot and wet, as we explore every inch of each other.

His stubble rubs against my cheek as he angles his head down, his lips brushing softly against mine before our mouths collide in a cataclysmic kiss that sends waves of desire washing over me. His warm breath mingles with mine, and I teeter on the edge of losing myself in him.

I gasp into his mouth when his teeth graze my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine. He growls low in his throat, a primal sound that makes my channel clench in anticipation.

Threading my fingers through his hair, I pull him closer still—I can’t get enough of him. He must share my desire to get as close as humanly possible because he cups my ass and tugs me tighter as his cock, covered only by the thin loincloth, jerks against my belly.

“Dulcis.” He nips my lips, tugging my lower lip into his mouth and swiping it sensually with his tongue. “So fucking sweet, Laura. The Gods are smiling on me. You’re a gift from the Goddess Fortuna herself.”

My groan sounds almost pained, but it simply expresses that I’m bursting with desire. I always assumed Varro would be amazing in bed, but his words alone could bring me to my knees.

That thought reminds me of how many times I’ve lain alone in bed, picturing in detail exactly how I would love to sink to my knees to suck this man’s cock. If I hadn’t just told him he was in charge, I would kneel between his feet, rip his loincloth down his trim hips, and sink my mouth onto him.

He has other ideas.

He grips my skull, positioning my head so he can delve more deeply into the warm cavern of my mouth. His tongue is spearing into me, taking and giving and exploring all at once.

After quieting the kiss, so our lips are pressed together almost chastely, he lifts me in the bridal carry and barges through thedoor. The stark contrast of the cool early spring air with the heated cottage interior makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Varro doesn’t waste a moment as he sets me down and lifts my sweatshirt off. We’ve been dancing around each other, so cautious, so afraid of breaking boundaries. But those boundaries were decimated when I asked him to spear into me.

This isn’t the cautious male I met months ago—unsure of who he was, where he belonged—this is Marcus Fabius Varro, premier gladiator, master of all he surveys.

“Take it off.” It’s not a request, but a gruff order as he takes a half step back, eyeing my bra with something close to hatred.

“Ohh.” His word is half-speech, half-moan as my bra flutters to the floor. “Why do you cover those…” He licks his lips, not taking his eyes off me. “So beautiful,Dulcis.”

He bends to suckle at one tender tip, already hardened from arousal and the cold air. Pleasure jolts through me, arcing straight to my clit. Is his technique excellent, I wonder idly, or is it that I’ve been desperate for this formonths?

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