Page 62 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing the same path his finger took moments before. I gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair as he begins to explore me with his mouth, his tongue, his lips. He’s relentless, his touch igniting fires that burn deep within me, stoking a need that only he can satisfy.

“You taste incredible, Diana,” he murmurs against me, the vibration of his voice adding another layer of sensation. “Just as I remembered. Like honey and spice.”

His words send a shiver coursing through me, and I can feel my body responding, my hips moving in rhythm with his tongue. He slides a finger inside me, then another, his touch sure and confident, knowing exactly how to play my body. I can feel the tension building, the coil of need winding tighter and tighter.

“Cassius,” I gasp, my voice a ragged plea. “I’m close. So close.”

He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his tongue flicking against me with an intensity that sends me spiraling over the edge. My back arches, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through me. I cry out, his name a chant on my lips, my fingers tugging his hair so I can keep tethered to the earth.

He rides out my orgasm with me, drawing out every last shiver, tremor, and sigh. When I finally come down, I’m panting, my body limp and sated. He presses a soft kiss to my thigh, then looks up at me, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“That was…” I start, struggling to find the words. “Incredible.”

He chuckles, rising to his feet, his hands sliding up my body to cup my face. “And that was just the beginning, Diana,” he promises, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “We’ve been apart all night. I want to ride you all night.”

I reach for him, my hands finding the waistband of his boxer briefs, the last barrier between us. After tugging them down, my eyes lock onto his as I free him. He steps out of them, kicking them aside, and stands before me, completely bare. I take a moment to appreciate the sight of him, the raw, masculine beauty of his body.

“You’re magnificent,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I take in every inch of him. His body is a testament to his strength and power, each muscle defined and honed to perfection. A true gladiator, a warrior in every sense of the word. How did I live without him, his touch all these months? I was only half alive.

He smiles, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “And you, Diana, are a goddess come to life. The promise of this—just the slimmest belief that you might love me—kept me going through my dark times.”

I hurt him. He hurt me. But all that is behind us.

I reach out, wrapping my fingers around his thick cock, feeling the heat and hardness of him. He groans, his eyes fluttering closed as I begin to stroke him, my touch exploring every ridge and vein. I want to give him the same pleasure he gave me, want to make him feel as cherished and desired as he makes me feel.

“Diana,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with need. “You don’t have to—”

“I want…” I interrupt, my gaze locked onto his. “To taste you. To make you feel good.”

He nods, his breath hitching as I slip to the floor, ease to my knees, and lean forward, my tongue flicking out to taste him. He’s salty and warm, his skin soft and velvety over his steel-hard shaft. I take him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around him, my lips tightening as I move, taking him deeper with each plunge.

His hands clutch my hair, his fingers tangling in the strands, guiding but not forcing me. He lets me set the pace, lets me explore him at my leisure. I can feel his body tensing, his breath coming in ragged gasps as I bring him closer to the edge.

Perhaps I taste a little of the power he felt vanquishing one of his foes in the arena. With just my mouth and hands, I control this strong, muscular man’s pleasure.

“Diana,” he rasps, his voice a warning. I look up, meeting his gaze, his eyes dark with desire and something more—a question, a plea. I understand. He wants to be connected, truly connected, when he lets go. I release him, trailing kisses up his body as I stand, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“I want you, Cassius,” I whisper, my voice steady and sure. “Inside me.”

His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry and urgent. His hands grip my hips, lifting me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed, his body covering mine as we fall onto the soft mattress. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, echoing my own racing pulse.

He breaks away, just long enough to ask, “Are you sure, Diana?” His voice is hoarse, his breathing ragged, but his eyes are clear and focused, wanting—needing—my consent.

I smile, cupping his face in my hands. “Don’t make me beg, Cassius.”

He grins, a boyish, excited smile that makes my heart flutter. Then he captures my mouth again, his kiss slow and deep, savoring me, cherishing me. I melt into him, my body arching into his touch as his hands explore me, tracing curves and igniting fires.

He slides a hand between us, guiding himself to my entrance. I can feel him, hot and hard, pressing against me. I wrap my legs around his hips, urging him on, inviting him in. He pushes into me slowly, gently, his gaze locked onto mine, watching for any sign of discomfort or regret. But there’s only pleasure, intense and overwhelming, as he fills me completely.

He starts to move, unhurried, deliberate thrusts that build a rhythm that’s uniquely ours, the symphony of our love. I match his pace, my body synching with his, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating the same rhythm. His fingers lace with mine, our hands clasped above my head, our bodies pressed together, skin to skin, heart to heart.

“You feel amazing, Diana,” he murmurs against my lips. “So warm, so tight. Perfect.”

The only thing I can do is moan in response, my body consumed by sensation, by the feel of him moving inside me, the sound of his voice, the taste of his skin. I can feel the tension building again, the coil of need tightening, threatening to snap. I cling to him, my nails digging into his back, my body rising to meet his, urging him deeper, faster.

He complies, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming more urgent. Our bodies are slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. I can see the strain in his expression, the effort it takes for him to hold back, to wait for me. But I don’t want him to wait, I don’t want him to hold back. I want him to let go, to lose control with me.

“Cassius,” I gasp, my voice barely a whisper. “Let go. Come with me.”

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