Page 49 of Enslaved
“That would be impossible.”
“What a challenge you are, Marcus Magnus.”
He grinned at her. “We shall go upstairs now and continue our game,” he said decisively.
“Is that an order or an invitation?”
His grin widened. “Since there is no one to overhear us, it is an invitation.”
“I am happy that you play by the rules.”
“The beauty of being in command is that I can change the rules at any time.” He came over to her couch and towered above her. His nearness made her pulsebeat erratic.
“It would give me pleasure to carry you up.” Before she could protest, she found herself lifted in his arms. Her bare breast was pressed against his wide chest. The raw linen of his tunic brushed against her nipple, making it instantly erect. Her naked thighs rested on his great muscular forearm and the heat of his body seeped into her, almost melting her bones.
As Marcus climbed the stairs, she felt his marble-hard phallus brush against the bare cheeks of her bottom. Desire spiraled from her buttocks to her woman’s center and beyond into her belly. Every step he climbed increased the intensity of the feeling. She clung to him, feeling his muscles ripple beneath her hands. All the sensations she felt were highly charged and deeply sexual. She was beginning to discover that arousal was a most pleasurable activity.
He carried her into his sleeping chamber and kicked the door closed with his foot The desire to yield herself to him was almost overwhelming. She wanted him to cover her mouth with his so that she could taste him. But instead of kissing her, he carried her to his big silver mirror, so she could see what she looked like in his arms.
Their reflection was overtly sensual. He held her legs high so that she could see the golden tendrils covering the pink center between her thighs, and there, just below, was the bulge of his manhood, erect and straining toward its goal. He lowered her body slightly so they brushed against each other.
When she drew in a quick breath, he smiled knowingly. He let her body slide down his until her feet touched the carpet, but he did it with her facing the mirror. Diana couldn’t believe the disparity in the size of their bodies when he was standing this close behind her. Their coloring, too, was a startling contrast; hers so fair, his so dark and swarthy.
She watched, mesmerized, as his powerful hand cupped her bare breast and his calloused thumb toyed with her nipple. Threads of molten fire ran from the tip of her captured breast and plunged downward into her belly, then moved even lower. Marcus pulled her back against him so that she could feel the hard length of his shaft against her bare buttocks. She gasped and slipped her hand between their bodies where they touched, but he pressed her even closer so that her hand was now trapped, with her fingers curving about his swollen manroot. As his thumb teased her nipple, she felt him grow longer and harder in her hand.
Then with his other hand, he lifted the short tunic so she could watch him trace her high mound of Venus and let his fingers thread through her pubic curls. Diana was gasping with the things he was doing to her and the sensations his powerful fingers aroused. Her free hand covered his, in an effort to make him take it from her woman’s center, but her small hand was totally ineffective and fell away of its own volition as he searched her cleft with a calloused fingertip until he found the sensitive bud within.
Then Marcus moved his finger in a slow, circular motion, until she moaned with pure pleasure. As Diana watched herself writhe beneath his fingers, she became so aroused she wanted to scream from excitement. She began to pant and felt his phallus buck and pulse beneath her hand.
He began to squeeze her bare breast with a slow, rhythmic motion that matched the rhythm of his encircling fingertip. She wanted to beg him to go faster, but the words stuck in her throat so that she could only moan her pleasure. Sensations were coming in waves now, setting up pulsations that were intensifying. With a female knowledge as old as Eve’s, she realized that if he quickened his finger, her pleasure would soon be over. Moving in slow, steady, rhythmic circles made the pleasure go on, and on, and on.
She arched back against him and her head began to thrash about against his wide chest. When her climax came, it was so hard and fast, she cried out and thrust into his hand wildly. He cupped her firmly, intensifying the sensual pleasure each pulsating contraction brought her. Then he lifted her back into his arms so he could possess her trembling mouth.
She clung to him sweetly, allowing him to plunder her mouth as he had plundered her senses. When at last he lifted his mouth from hers, he murmured, “That is just a foretaste of the pleasure we will share. Now that I have entertained you, it is your turn to entertain me. Do you imagine your intelligence can hold my interest, or will you have to resort to your beauty?” he challenged.
He carried her up the steps and deposited her on his bed. Then he threw off his linen tunic and stretched his length beside her, propping his shoulders against the pillows and cushions.
Diana’s curious eyes examined him with awe. He was indeed a splendid male specimen. His torso was covered by thick black curls that were dense across his chest where the golden coin reflected the light from the silver lamp. The hair was sparse across his ridged belly, then bloomed again at his groin. His male sex, still in a state of arousal, stood erect as a column of marble crowned with a head of vermilion velvet.
She tucked her knees beneath her and clasped her hands. In an almost kneeling position, she began to talk to him quietly. “Marcus, my name is Diana Davenport. I was born in London, Londinium, in the yearA.D. 1772. I traveled to Aquae Sulis, which we call Bath because of the ancient Roman baths built seventeen hundred years before. One day I went into an antique shop, a shop that sells old antiquities. I was amazed to find a Roman helmet of iron and bronze. I couldn’t resist trying it on, but when I did, I felt strange, ill almost, and I experienced a sensation of falling through space.
“Now I realize I was somehow being transported through time. I think I fainted, and when I regained consciousness, I was here in Aquae Sulis, almost beneath the wheels of your chariot. In my ignorance I thought that some men, of my own time, were dressing up as ancient Romans and playing silly boy games. However, when you put a slave collar on me, I realized it was no game.”
Marcus watched her lovely mouth as she talked. He was the luckiest man breathing. He had a slave girl who was not only exquisitely beautiful, but one who could bemuse him with stories and entertain him with her humor and intelligence. And the best part was that no man had touched her before. Not a single one. His eyes began to close. As the music of her voice went on, the day’s work began to take its toll on the general and he fell asleep to the sound of Diana.
Diana lifted her lashes to gauge his reaction to the things she was telling him. Her eyes widened in disbelief— Marcus had fallen asleep while she talked! Still on her knees, she leaned forward to get a closer look at him. In repose, his features still had the pride of an eagle, but he looked so much younger. His wide chest rose and fell with his slow, even breathing. His neck, arms, and shoulders were corded with heavy muscle, while the swarthy skin across his belly was taut as a drum.
His shaft, no longer like a ramrod, lay against his thigh, its head withdrawn inside its cowl. It still looked a dangerous weapon, however, its size alone intimidating. Her eyes drifted down his thighs and calves. He had the most muscular legs she had ever seen. Modern men were not built this way. He was like a Colossus.
Finally, she looked at his hands. They were large, capable, powerful hands, both calloused and scarred. She marveled that they had brought her such pleasure. They had been strong yet tender at the same time. She looked at her exposed breast, the one he had stroked and fondled, and was surprised that he had left no mark upon it.
She placed one of her hands beside his and discovered it was only about one third its size. Though he was enormous, there was nothing clumsy about him. He had the strength and lithe power of an animal. In swordplay he was quick on his feet, moving with the speed of lightning and striking with the same deadly surety.
Diana wondered why Fate had sent her to the arms of this man. There was no answer. Yet deep down, in the recesses of her heart, she was secretly glad that she had been given such a fantastic chance to experience this time, this place, and this man. She experienced a tiny flicker of fear that she might be snatched away from him. She was surprised at her own emotions and admitted that she would be loath to leave him.
She knew if he opened his eyes, she would yield to him in a heartbeat. Then she felt guilty. He had had an exhausting day and needed his rest so that he could arise at five and start all over again. With one last reluctant glance at him, she quietly tiptoed from his chamber.
Chapter 15
