Page 30 of Enslaved
Chapter 9
Marcus’ powerful body filled the doorway as he paused on the threshold. His black eyes swept over her, from her golden hair to her cork-soled sandals, and back up to her silver eyelids. Then he entered his sleeping chamber and secured the door. He came halfway across the room toward her, where the light from the torches illuminated her loveliness.
In contrast, his shadowed face looked dangerously dark. His jet black eyes missed no finest detail. He saw how the magenta silk turned her hair the color of moonbeams. Saw how it molded the globes of her upthrusting breasts, revealing their diamond-hard nipples.
He watched her jump up from the chair, saw her lips part with a tiny gasp, noticed how her delicate hands fluttered as she dropped the scroll she held.Can she actually read?
When she stood, he watched the clinging material caress her curves. It revealed the place where her navel dipped in, and even more temptingly, where her high pubic bone raised the magenta silk to show off her delicious Mound of Venus.
His ebony eyes traveled down the slit skirt, along her slim leg to her delicate ankle and small foot. Then he slowly reversed the direction of his gaze, allowing it to trace her body from her toes to her temples.
She was like a rare gift from the gods. Had he done something exceptionally noble and courageous recently to receive such a reward? His arousal was most pleasurable. He could feel the pulsebeat in his shaft match the one in his throat.
“Walk for me,” he said softly.
Diana was startled, both at the request and at the soft tone of his voice. Her chin went up, her eyes blazed violet fire. “Where shall I walk?” her voice dripped with sweet sarcasm. “All the way to your bed?”
“That would be my choice.” His words were direct, but the tone was low and husky. It made her belly and breasts contract with a quiver. His dark eyes saw.
“Well, it wouldn’t be my bloody choice!” she challenged recklessly.
“Youhaveno choice. You are my slave,” Marcus said quietly. His look told her he would consume her, devour her. She knew deep in her bones and her belly it was inevitable. She knew in his eyes she was beautiful. She knew he desired her above all other women at that moment and the knowledge was melting her insides to molten hot lava.
It was his total masculinity that did it. He was more male than any man she had ever known or conjured in her fantasies and the innate femaleness at her core cried out for him. He had asked her to walk for him and unbelievably that is what she yearned to do. She began to pace in front of him sinuously, provocatively, sensuously, placing one high-soled foot before the other, undulating her hips, knowing the magenta silk clung to her bottom cheeks, molding them possessively.
Eve-like, she wanted to set his blood on fire. Her wicked juices were bubbling out of control, running like wildfire along her veins, all flowing to her hot woman’s center between her legs. “Your slave? What happened to your preposterous notion that I was a spy or Druid priestess? Has all your fear of me vanished?”
He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “I am a Roman. Romans do not fear women. I care naught for what you were before today. Today, whatever you were, ceased to be. From this day forth you are my slave, my property. You have only one reason for living and that reason is to please Marcus Magnus.”
As she undulated before him, displaying her fire and passion, the glint in his black eyes told her that she pleased him inordinately. The newfound female power within her surged. “Well, Roman, if it pleases you to think me your slave you may do so, but let me disabuse you of any notion that I will be yourwillingslave. Before I submit to your demands, you will have to use your whip.”
The verbal foreplay served only to whet his appetite, making him hungry for her, then ravenous. “I am a Roman. I do not need to whip my chosen slaves.” He climbed the steps to his bed, then sat upon it to remove his shin guards and sandals. The muscles of his powerful calves bulged like lumps of iron. His bare thighs looked even harder.
Diana ran her tongue over lips gone suddenly dry. She stopped pacing. She stood before him with hands on hips and mimicked him. “‘I am a Roman!’ Such bloody arrogance. You are less civilized than a savage!”
He unfastened his wide leather belt, then laid aside his short, wide gladius sword and his dagger. “Is that what you are hoping?” he asked softly. His quiet question was more menacing than if he had shouted, promising that he could be more savage than any man alive.
“My God, no,” she whispered, showing a vulnerability that deeply thrilled him, making his cock pulse savagely.
He unfastened his ornamental breastplate and the segmented bronze girdle of his cuirass, then removed them. He wore only a short white linen tunic now. He spread his knees wide, then rested his elbows upon them as he leaned toward her. “Come to me,” he ordered softly.
Marcus Magnus sat upon the high bed covered with furs as if it were a throne and he, Emperor of the World.
“No, I cannot.” Diana trembled slightly. Her refusal was no longer defiant, but it was firm.
“Give me a reason why you cannot,” he said, his eyes caressing each trembling curve.
“I am a virgin,” she blurted.
He stared at her in disbelief. “Now you are telling me you are a vestal virgin?” His voice was incredulous.
“No, not a vestal virgin—just a, virgin.”
He smote his thigh and laughed. “Impossible!” His laughter ceased. She looked as if she were serious. “You have known no man before me?” The thought that it might be possible did strange and glorious things to him.
“No, I have never known a man.”
“But that is ridiculous. It makes no sense. You are female; a female’s only purpose is to give pleasure to the male. Why are you not experienced in the ways of Venus?”
