The need to tell Fortunada about his love and regret swelled within his chest. Yet, he stopped. What good would his confession do? It would not change her mind about being with her children. If truth were told, he would not want her to release that essential part of herself, even for him. Clasping his hands over hers, he said, “You are a rare woman.” For that was also true.
“You said you would save me from the marauders, and you have. I must thank you.”
Was there a suggestive hint in her words? Did she want to offer her gratitude in a most carnal and satisfactory way?
Needing no more encouragement than the hint in her words, his cock lengthened. Turning to face her, Baro caught Fortunada’s chin in his hand. Bending down, he pressed his lips to hers. She tasted of sweet honey and a strong, seductive wine. Fortunada opened her mouth and let him slip his tongue inside. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to dominate her and make her his. And at the same time, he desired to be her servant—with her pleasure as his only task.
Baro’s hand traveled from her collarbone to the middle of her chest. Her heartbeat raced under his touch. Eagerly he explored farther with his mouth. Kissing her cheek and tasting her earlobe, he flicked his tongue over that spot she loved. Digging her fingers into his shoulder, Fortunada sighed.
She wanted him, almost as much as he wanted her.
He did not care that she had promised to remarry Albinius—the Rube. Nor did he care that her dowry had already been given. Until her former husband claimed her, Fortunada was Baro’s lover.
Lowering his hand even farther, he found her breast. Through the fabric of her gown, he stroked her nipple with his thumb. It hardened under his touch, and she pressed herself more fully into his grasp.
Chapter 25
Fortunada
Fortunada’s breath caught in her chest. Instinctively, she pressed her breast into his hand. Baro skimmed his thumb over her nipple. It hardened under his touch. He had not shaved in more than a day, and rough stubble covered his cheek and chin. His kisses left her face raw.
She wanted Baro. Here. Now. Rocking forward, she pressed her hips into his. Baro reached around behind Fortunada and drew her closer to him. His cock was already hard. Deep inside, her cunnus grew wet with wanting.
Ceres, help me to control my passions. Although she did not want to remarry Albinius, Fortunada still planned to be a good and loyal wife. Besides, Sersa had given Albinius the offered dowry. Though she had not promised herself in marriage, she was well on her way to being wed. The hateful laws that viewed Albinius as the parent who mattered also dictated that a woman who committed adultery was a criminal, with execution as the just punishment. Could she have survived her kidnapping only to be slain for being with the man she loved? “I cannot,” she said.
Baro drew his thumb across her bottom lip. “We can,” he whispered. “We should.”
The taste of him lingered. She wanted more. Needed more. Besides, no one ever needed to know.
“And if we do,” she asked, “what then?”
“I imagine that we will give each other great pleasure.” He moved his hand lower, tracing the line of her shoulder.
“And after?”
“I would sleep, I think.”
“Can you never be serious?” she asked with an exhausted sigh.
“I am. You are a wonderfully athletic lover, and after bedding you, I always need a rest.”
“We are not husband and wife. Nor are we lovers any longer. What will we be after making love today?”
Baro gripped her bottom. She gasped as his fingers dug into her skin. “Alive,” he said, “and sated.”
In this moment, could Fortunada just live, the rest of the world be damned? During the past day she had wholly placed her trust in Baro. In relying on him—and in knowing that she must be reliable—her feelings for him had grown and deepened.
For the first time, she realized that love was more than passionate kisses and laughter during pillow talk. It was more, even, than sacrificing oneself for the benefit of another. Was it, as she now believed, based on a trust so deep and solid that there was never a place for doubt?
Softly, Baro kissed her cheek. “I want you,” he said, “more than I have ever wanted anyone before in my life. Tell me that you want me, too. I need to hear your words.”
All the joys and sorrows of her life crystallized into this single instant. It was as if everything that had ever happened to her had been meant to lead Fortunada to where she was now, with Baro. Eventually, there would be an after, and once more they would need to define their role in each other’s lives. For now, they were here, together—and that was all that mattered. “I do,” she said, “want you.”
Baro led her to the reclining sofa, and Fortunada lay back.
He stood over her. His dark eyes were filled with liquid desire. “Tell me what is it that you want me to do.”
“I want you inside me.”
“How? Do you want me to take you hard and fast, or should I take my time with long, slow strokes?” Baro lay down on the sofa and held himself above her.
He was always an inventive lover. Was this to be their new game—she would give the orders and he would obey?
“First, I want you to kiss me.”
He brushed his mouth over hers.
“You can do better than that,” she said.
“So, I can.” Baro bent his head to hers. He flicked his tongue across her lips. She let his tongue slip into her mouth. They joined and began a seduction of their own. Licking. Tasting. Coming together and then pulling apart.
“And now, Mistress,” Baro asked, “what are your desires?”
His words aroused her, as did the images that came with them. “I would have you kiss me other places as well,” she said.
“Where?”
“My breasts,” she said. “My nipples. My stomach. My thighs.”
“Your cunnus. I should like to kiss your cunnus, too,” he said.
“Without question, that would have been on the list. I had not yet worked my way down that far.”
“Your wish,” said Baro as he trailed his tongue down her throat, “is my command. First, your humble servant will need to remove your garment if I am to fulfill my duties.”
Sitting up, Fortunada allowed Baro to remove her gown. The crisp mountain air chilled her flesh, and yet the desire inside her smoldered.
Lowering his head, Baro laved one breast with his tongue as he teased the nipple of the other with thumb and forefinger. “And you, my servant,” she panted, “should also be disrobed.”
After drawing her nipple out with a long, slow suck, he slipped out of his tunic. The sight of Baro naked aroused Fortunada even more. His muscular chest. His narrow waist. His large cock. Tracing the large scar that ran from collarbone to pectoral, Fortunada reminded herself that it was not the time for regrets. Now was the time for pleasure.
“What would you have me do now, Mistress?”
Stretching out luxuriously, Fortunada said, “I ordered you to kiss me, I am sure of it.”
“Apologies, Mistress,” said Baro, raising a single brow, “I have forgotten where. You must remind me.”
“My breasts,” she said.
Baro ran his tongue around one areola and then the other. “Like this?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Fortunada as her smoldering desire began to flame.
“Where else do you desire that I kiss you?”
“My stomach.”
He blazed a trail of kisses from chest to navel.
“And?” he asked.
“My cunnus.”
“I hoped that you would order me to do as much.”
Baro situated himself between her thighs. Spreading open her lips, he drew his tongue slowly up the entire length of her cunnus. She cried out in pleasure.
“Or perhaps
I should kiss you in this way,” he said, taking her most sensitive spot in his mouth. Baro sucked, and the flames of her passion burst into an inferno. She bucked against him, unable to get close enough. Every part of her body became lighter and freer.
Baro slipped a finger inside her cunnus, moving it back and forth with the rhythm of her hips. Her innermost muscles contracted as release claimed her, the pleasure echoing throughout her body. Panting, she lay back on the bed. “You are a wonderful and attentive servant,” she said.
Baro lay down beside her and kissed Fortunada deeply. His kiss was briny and tasted of the pleasure she had taken with him. “I had hoped to please you,” he said.
“And now,” said Fortunada, wanting nothing more than to take Baro deeper inside her still, “we must find something that brings you pleasure.”
Chapter 26
Baro
By all the gods, Baro loved Fortunada. He loved her strength, her passionate nature, her wit, her long legs, and her tight, wet cunnus. Situating the head of his penis at her opening, Baro thrust his hips forward once, then twice more, before sinking fully inside her.
Fortunada moaned with pleasure and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He entered her more deeply. She was warm, and her inner muscles clenched around his shaft. His scrotum tightened. With a force of will that left him shaky, Baro slowed his movements to stop his impending climax.
He looked down upon her as he moved his hips. Her golden hair spread around her like a halo. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was moist and open. Placing his lips on hers, he slid his tongue into her mouth. He wanted to claim her. To make her his, and his alone. This day he would love Fortunada with such passion that she would never be satisfied with her husband, the Rube.
What a life he and Fortunada would have had. The fact that they would not be together filled him with grief. Regret was an emotion Baro loathed. It was meant for those not brave enough to live the life they desired. And yet, the only thing Baro really wanted was to be with Fortunada, the one person he could not have.
His gaze traveled to the point where he entered her. He slid outward then back in, connecting them, making them one. His scrotum tightened again. This time he could not ease his lust. With two more hard thrusts, Baro’s seed spilled. He fell forward, panting, as his cock throbbed with each beat of his heart.
He wrapped his hands in her silken tresses, then claimed a kiss. His tongue explored her mouth. She kissed him back with the same ardor. Hard. Passionate. This was a woman who was his equal. He would never have another lover like Fortunada.
In his mind he saw, as he had many times before, the villa upon a rise. Fortunada stood at the door along with her children. That dream would never be. “You should know,” he said, “that even though I have never met your children, I saw them as mine. I would have adopted Genaro and brought him into my familia. Cornelia would always be property of her father, and still, I would have raised her as my own and provided her with a dowry when she married.”
A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. Baro kissed it away.
“We would have been happy,” she said.
Would have been. Not are. Not will be. Baro had hoped that Fortunada would change her mind. He should have known better.
Chapter 27
Fortunada
Fortunada awoke slowly. Baro lay beside her. They were curled around each other, with her in front and him in the rear. They had fallen into a stupor on the sofa where they had made love, not bothering to redress or even cover their nakedness. Baro’s warmth surrounded her and beckoned her back to sleep.
Her eyes drifted closed. As if they had been seared into her mind, images of the past day came to her. She saw the caravan camp as it burned. She saw Dax as well, his eyes dark, as he tried to force her mouth open. Then came a vision of Jana, with a knife protruding from her chest.
A cold sweat coated Fortunada’s skin. She sat up, dizzy and sick. Fearing she would retch, Fortunada bent over with her head between her knees.
Baro’s strong hands clasped her shoulders. His fingers kneaded her flesh, working away the tension she held there. “You had a dream,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “That is all.”
“It was no dream. I was awake.” Fortunada shook her head. She could not speak of the horrors she had witnessed and that plagued her still. “I cannot stop myself from seeing what happened again and again.”
“With time, the images will come less frequently,” said Baro. “Until one day you will see them no more.”
He would know of such things, would he not? All of Rome loved blood sports. Fortunada had counted herself among those who followed the gladiatorial games. Yet to witness such acts of violence from a distance was not the same as being threatened by them personally.
“How did you step into the arena so many times?” she asked.
“At first I sought one thing,” he said. “Glory. After I became famous, I needed to return to feed the monster that was my celebrity. Most fights have strict rules, and few gladiators are actually slain.”
“Yet, you have killed men,” she said.
Baro wiped a lock of hair off Fortunada’s forehead. His touch soothed her and she relaxed a little more. “I have,” he said simply.
“And the faces of those who fell under your sword never come to you?”
“They do,” he said. “Trust me when I say now that your memories are fresh and the images vivid. Like paint on a wall, both will fade with time.”
Was he right? Three years ago when Albinius left, anguish had threatened to tear her in two. Those first days were the hardest. Then the days turned to weeks. Weeks became months. The emotional pain—which also felt physical—began to wane, until one day it was no longer there.
Would it be like that with her fear of Dax? “I wish we had killed him,” she said. “Then I never need worry about him again.”
“When the legionnaires return and Dax is in custody, or has been slain during the raid, you will find the same measure of relief.”
“I imagine you are correct,” said Fortunada.
“Of course I am,” said Baro as he stood. Reaching his arms overhead, he twisted his body from left to right. A sprinkling of black stubble reached across his pectorals. Narrowing into a straight line, it grazed his navel and ended just above his cock. As a gladiator he had been presented as a god, with all his hair scraped away. She liked the look of the real man beneath the legend. It was one more thing she loved about Baro.
She did love him, though she wished she did not. Their parting would come too soon, and once again, the pain of being without her beloved would become her constant compatriot.
Chapter 28
Baro
Baro stood at the door of the tent and looked eastward. His leg no longer pained him. He was not entirely healed but was well enough to ride a horse all the way to Novum Comum, and he would no longer have need of his crutch. In the morning, he and Fortunada would leave the legionnaire camp and take the Via Aurelia all the way to the Alps.
She reclined on the sofa. Mars sat at her feet, and she stroked the short hairs on the top of his head. Fortunada was a strong woman, one who did not need to be protected. That did not mean that she was able to navigate the world alone, nor should she. He wanted to go to her and tell her that he loved her. But, to what end? His feelings mattered for naught. The one thing he could do for her was to make sure that she was delivered safely to her children.
“We can hire a litter,” he said to her without turning around. “But it will be faster by half if we go on horseback.”
“If you think it best,” she said.
Ah, this was what he wanted, was it not? To take to the road upon a steed, his arms wrapped around Fortunada’s waist as the leagues slipped away. More than his desire for freedom, Baro needed Fortunada to need him. He needed her to know that he could provide
for her and somehow make her proud.
The sun had long since passed overhead, leaving a wash of orange and red in its wake. On the horizon, a speck of brown appeared and quickly billowed into a cloud of dust. A moment later the staccato of boots marching in time began to set the beat of Baro’s heart. Fortunada came to his side and rested her head upon his shoulder.
The legion’s red standard came into view first. Held high, it snapped in the breeze. A golden eagle sat atop, reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. The troops marched down the wide alley between the tents. The centurion, a wolf pelt draped over his head and shoulders, led the men. Line after line, the legionnaires passed. Their helmets shone; the brass crosses on their long rectangular shields gleamed.
The hairs at the nape of Baro’s neck stood straight. His chest expanded, filling with pride. At one time he had been a leader of men such as these. Yet, that was in another lifetime, and he had been a different person.
The ranks of legionnaires broke, and the half-dozen captives taken from the caravan now rode in a cart. Behind them, a score of marauders, bound hand and neck with a thick rope, shuffled along. The medicus bled from the nose. His gaze met Baro’s. It held for a moment before he looked away.
Baro searched each face as it passed. There was one he looked for but did not see. The line of bandits ended, and another group of legionnaires brought up the column’s rear.
“Dax is not among them,” said Fortunada. Full of fear, her voice rose and shook. “How did he evade the legions?”
“He never made it back to camp.” Baro understood injuries, death and dying. It was his profession, after all. “Dax could not have walked back to his camp, not with the wound you gave him. I am sure he died upon the mountain,” Baro said.
“You know not of what you speak.” She turned to walk away.
Baro caught her by the arm. “If you opened his gut, his own poisons would have leaked into his belly and killed him. A cut to the upper thigh would cause him to rapidly bleed to death. And if you sliced off his cock, he would have jumped off a cliff.”
The Gladiator's Temptation (Champions of Rome) Page 16