Page 52 of Enslaved
“I choose you,” he said hoarsely.
Like a houri who had been trained in a harem for her sultan’s pleasure, Diana sat down upon his couch, lifted her legs, and in one fluidly graceful movement curled her body against his. He had been lying on one elbow with his knees bent. She leaned back against his knees, facing him, so that he had complete access to the breasts his eyes had caressed throughout the meal. But his need to taste her lips first was so overwhelming that his arms enfolded her against his heart and his mouth came down on hers in total possession.
Once they had begun, they could not stop kissing. They had been starving for each other. Her lips opened to his fierce demands and he thrust his tongue inside the dark honeyed cave to plunder her sweetness. Her senses were overflowing with the scent and taste and feel of him inside her. He stroked her tongue with his, playing out the male-female game of domination and submission until he mastered her, and she clung to him, allowing him to ravish her until she was mindless. He took her close to the edge of madness until she was panting and biting and digging her nails into his flesh in blind ecstasy.
After a while his kisses became less fierce and brutal, but much more sensual and erotic. His tongue traced her lips, he nibbled and sucked her mouth, taking endlessly until her lips were swollen with an excess of kissing. Yet still their mouths hungered for more. He gave her tiny kisses, quick hot kisses, and slow melting kisses.
Then Marcus held her away from him so he could look his fill at her lush breasts, which were slowly hardening at the lust he aroused in her. He dipped his head to lick a taut pink nipple, then drew the whole luscious crown into his mouth. She arched backward so that her breast thrust into his mouth and he almost devoured her.
Her mouth was ravenous again, so Diana let her lips and tongue slide up the column of his throat. She felt insatiable. She would never get enough of him. His linen tunic had wide armholes so she slipped her hands inside to caress and fondle the great slabs of muscle that covered his wide chest.
This did not satisfy her for long. “Remove it,” she begged, and when he eagerly complied, she ran her fingertips through the dark curls and set her mouth to licking and sucking his copper nipples. A deep craving began inside Diana. She needed more voluptuous love play. She needed to wrap her long legs about his magnificent body. She needed his fingers to play with her, even go inside her. Now she knew exactly what Marcus had meant when he said he was riven with need!
Marcus, however, now chose to do teasing, playful things to her. He dipped his finger in his wine and anointed the tips of her breasts, then curled his tongue about her diamond-hard nipples to catch the bloodred drops. Then he sipped the wine and set his mouth to hers to give her wine-rich kisses.
“Please, Marcus, please!” Her whisper was so intense, he realized that at last she was ready to yield to him, oh so willingly.
“Come,” he said, rising from the couch and taking her hand. When her feet touched the floor, her knees were like water. She clung to his hand and followed where he led. He was naked, save for the gold medallion he always wore, and at that moment she thought him beautiful enough to always go naked.
Suddenly, Diana felt very overdressed. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he lifted her before him and unfastened the pearl. “Wrap yourself about me.” Her arms slipped around his powerful neck, and as her legs encircled his torso, the crimson loin cloth fell onto the bottom step.
As Marcus slowly mounted the staircase, their desire also mounted until it burst into flame. The length of his shaft rested in her cleft, hard as a battering ram and she writhed upon him until she was creamy with craving. She kissed him hard and slipped her tongue into his mouth. Diana was ready to make some demands of her own.
He ignored the steps leading up to the side of the bed and instead went to the foot. His powerful hands lifted her by the waist and stood her on the high bed. His mouth was on a level with her knees and he rained kisses upon them, then rubbed his cheek against her velvet-soft skin.
“Marcus, I need to touch you,” she whispered hoarsely, gazing down at him. “I am Diana, I need your arrow in my hand; Ï need your arrow inside me!”
“I want to savor you. I have decided to keep you virgin awhile.”
“No!” she cried, in a fever to gift him with her maidenhead.
“Go on your knees to me.”
For a moment she thought he was asking her to abase herself in homage. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs and he pulled her on her knees so that his mouth was in close proximity to her woman’s center. Then it was Marcus who was paying homage to her. He gently blew his warm breath on the golden tendrils that crowned her high mons. Then he began to kiss her. His hands cupped her bottom, his fingers splayed in the cleft between her cheeks, then he lifted her forward so his mouth could work its magic.
Diana was shocked at his actions. What he did was wicked and far too intimate even for lovers. But as his lips nuzzled her, then his tongue sought her tiny bud of pleasure, she lost all her prudish inhibitions and arched herself into his glorious, glorious mouth.
By the time he plunged his tongue inside her, she was crying her pleasure with such wild abandon, it filled his sleeping chamber and echoed throughout the villa. When she reached her peak, she arched back onto the furs and then collapsed limply in a delicious sprawl, with her legs dangling over the end of the bed.
Marcus came over her in a heated passion. His needs had never been so great, yet he did not want to spoil her this night. His weapon could no longer be described as an arrow, it was now a gladius sword lusting for blood. He curbed his hunger with an iron will and thrust himself between her luscious breasts. His powerful hands came up to cup them and make a deep cleft where his marble-hard phallus could stroke in the velvet softness of her flesh. When he spent, his cries made hers seem like mere whispers.
Marcus brought scented water and bathed her breasts tenderly, then he lifted her beneath the covers. When he joined her, he pulled her against his side. “I don’t want to sleep, I want to hold you close all night so we can touch and talk and kiss.”
She sighed with contentment. “So this isafter?”
“Afterglow,” he corrected, burying his face in the perfumed tangle of her pale hair. “Mmm, you are so different from other women—so much finer, so delicately boned.” For a fleeting moment he was almost ready to believe she was a goddess. “Where did you really come from, Diana?”
“I came from the future, Marcus.”
“And what did you do in this Londinium of the future?”
“I lived with my aunt and uncle after my father died. He left me his house and the most wonderful library filled with books. I read everything I could get my hands on. History was my favorite subject. I’ve read a lot about when the Romans occupied ancient Britain. In modern times, Queen Boadicea is a great heroine.”
“Boudicca was a wild, uncivilized madwoman who incited the Iceni to rebellion, once her husband died,” Marcus corrected her.
Diana raised her eyes to his. “She was driven to it by the Romans.”
Patiently, Marcus said, “Tell me what you have heard, then I will tell you what really happened.”
