His cock, still buried in her tight, wet tunnel, stirred. Venus, he wanted her again already.
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and although he couldn’t see the colors of her eyes, their beauty still awed him.
“I came.” Her voice was hushed, as if the fact astounded her.
He laughed softly and wound a damp lock of her hair around his finger.
“I came too,” he said. “A most satisfactory outcome for us both, I believe.”
She pressed her hand against his heart. He liked the way she touched him, the way she looked at him as she touched him, as if it gave her great pleasure.
“We truly did come together.” Her whispered words, in genuine wonder, aroused him further. “It was even more magical than I had dreamed.”
He stilled playing with her hair. “Was this your first time?” To be sure, it was rare he came at the moment of his partner’s release. Usually he ensured they came first. But with his golden Celt his control had shattered.
Thank the gods he had still satisfied her. She deserved nothing less after the immense pleasure she’d given him.
“Yes.” Still, the wonderment laced her voice. He smiled down at her, pleased she hadn’t shared mutual orgasm with any other man.
Her hand rubbed over his chest, as if she couldn’t help herself. As if his hair held an impossible attraction for her.
“It is different, coming with a man inside.” She looked up at him, wide-eyed with newly discovered knowledge.
He frowned slightly, unsure as to her meaning. “Different?” He shifted his hips, and his cock showed its appreciation by swelling further, pushing against her tender flesh.
“Yes.” She seemed to think that answer enough, but before he could demand she explain further, she clenched her internal muscles around him, wiping his question from his mind.
“Gods.” His voice was ragged. “You have the touch of Venus, my lady.”
Her hand reached up. Instinctively knowing what she wanted, he lowered his head, so she could gently stroke his hair. Odd how so simple a gesture could be so arousing, when performed by his Celt.
“Your goddess of love.” It wasn’t a question. She trailed her fingers along his jaw, and he saw her lips curve into a strangely shy smile. Something tugged deep in his gut, painful, almost sexual and yet not.
“The Morrigan never blessed me so before.”
The name was vaguely familiar. A heathen three-headed goddess the Celts worshipped. Certainly incomparable to his divine Venus.
He would never insult his wood nymph by telling her so.
“Tonight both our goddesses blessed us.” And he was ready, more than ready, to be blessed again. He slid his arm around her waist and swiftly reversed their positions, and grinned at the startled expression on her face.
“Oh.” Her voice was faint as she stared down at him, and her glorious hair tumbled over her shoulders, enclosing them in a scented river of gold.
He cupped her hips, holding her still. Poised above him she looked like a goddess from Olympus, enjoying the charms of her mere mortal lover.
“Take me deep inside you, lady.” Still holding her hips, it would be too easy to force her down the length of his shaft, but he waited agonizing moments, wanting—needing—her to be the one to make the first move.
Slowly, as if she had never done such a thing before, she inched down his erection until he was utterly enslaved by her slick heat. Enveloped in a tight embrace, she contracted around him, the sensation so exquisite a primitive roar scraped along his throat, echoed through his mind and shattered the remnants of his restraint.
He dragged his hands over her waist and cupped her breasts as she hung over him. Felt her move, matched her rhythm, slammed his hips against her, molding her tender flesh to fit his size and take his length. Her nails tore his shoulders, and through a haze of lust he watched her eyes widen, glazed with passion, saw her lips part, felt the heat of her ragged breath against his face.
“Maximus.” She gasped his name, as if in wonder, and it was too much. With a primordial growl he abandoned her breasts and cupped the rounded cheeks of her delicious bottom, and rammed his cock into her, claiming her, possessing her. Branding her his.
And sanity shattered.
* * *
Arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist, Maximus heard the uneven gasp of her breath against his neck and the erratic pound of her heart against his chest. He tightened his grip around her quivering body, but was too sated to move farther.
“You belong to me.” He said the words aloud, claiming her even if she didn’t know it. “You will always belong to me.”
“Yes.” Her soft response satisfied his male pride. And then, within a heartbeat, he stiffened.
“You understand me?” He had spoken—still spoke—in his native tongue.
Her breath puffed against his neck, as if her exertions this night had thoroughly exhausted her. And despite himself, male pride heated him once again.
“Yes. I always have.” Again she answered him in perfect Latin.
Gods, what had he said to her the other day, believing her oblivious to his words? He couldn’t recall. But he did know he hadn’t wanted her to understand.
“Why did you lie to me?” He traced his fingers over the curve of her waist, and felt her shiver.
He should have ensured his cloak was within reach. He didn’t want his little Celt to become chilled.
“I didn’t lie.” She snuggled against him and her hand curled around his shoulder. “You assumed, and I allowed you to do so.”
He conceded that perhaps she was right. “Your grasp of my language is impressive.”
This time he felt her sigh. “It was thought prudent to learn the tongue of our approaching enemy.”
He stroked her hair, which curled over her shoulders. “I don’t wish to be your enemy, my lady.”
She was silent for a moment. “Nor I. But you will always be the enemy of my people, Maximus.” Infinite sorrow clung to her words, as if she somehow knew that for a fact.
He banished the thought. “In time, even your kin will accept us. Already much of the populace are benefiting from our presence.”
She began to trace swirling patterns on his shoulder. “Maybe that’s true. But it doesn’t mean you’ve been accepted.”
He rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath his heavy body. She gazed up at him, fearless.
“If your family surrenders, they won’t be enslaved.” He would make sure of that. “We could use the knowledge and loyalty of the nobles, my lady.”
“That would make us traitors to our own people.”
Bracing his weight on one hand, he cupped her face with his other. “No. You could help bridge the chasm between your people and ours.”
Pain filled her eyes. “You make it sound easy. But you’d wipe out our culture without a second thought. Destroy our way of life forever.”
He traced the outline of her lips. “No. You can still worship your gods alongside the gods of Rome.”
She frowned, clearly confused. “Reports of your conquest reached us long before you arrived in Cymru. Of the blood-soaked battles and merciless slaughter of all who opposed you.”
“I’m a soldier, lady,” he said, gently playing with her beautiful hair. “We fight when opposed. I can’t lie and tell you otherwise.”
A ragged sigh wracked her body. “My kin will never surrender, Maximus.”
He fisted her hair. She was only a woman, and as such had little power in her family. He knew that. And yet the fact she was so adamant her kin would never consider surrender irked him.
“In Britannia, many nobles retain their exalted status.” True, they paid tribute to Rome but that was a small price to pay for an improved standard of living.
Again she frowned, but not with confusion. For the first time she looked offended by his words. “We are not Britons, Roman.”
Her haughty tone amused him and wiped clear his irritation with her cowardly
family.
“No. You’re a stubborn Celt, and you belong to me. And as such I should take you back to the garrison tonight and never allow you to leave.”
She melted beneath him. “But you won’t.” She sounded so confident he wondered how she would react if he put his threat into force.
He had no intention of dragging her back by force. Not yet, anyway. Only as a last resort should all else fail.
A strange flicker caught his attention, and he glanced up to see one of the lanterns fade into darkness. His wood nymph gasped and pressed ineffectually at his shoulders.
“You’re not going anywhere. Stop complaining.” He settled himself more securely over her wriggling body. If she continued so, he would have no option but to fuck her once again.
“Maximus.” She stilled beneath him, but her eyes captured him. “I have to go.”
“And I said no.”
She tilted her head to one side. “I don’t want to leave,” she said. “But if I’m missed tonight, I may never be able to escape from them again.”
Sudden anger shot through him. So her family kept her prisoner. “Then come with me. You will never have to escape from them again.” Despite what she believed, he could keep her safe. Safer than she could possibly be wherever it was her cursed kin were hiding.
She cradled his jaw, a fleeting caress. “You misunderstand. They bind me with love, not chains.” She sighed. “If I disappear, they’ll think terrible things. I can’t do that to them, Maximus.”
He could. Easily. “You’ll meet me here again.” It wasn’t a question. “In three nights.” It was the earliest he could manage. Curse her. He didn’t want to wait three nights.
For a moment she appeared surprised at the wait, as if she’d expected to see him tomorrow. If she agreed to return with him now, then she would fucking see him tomorrow.
“I’ll be here.”
Yes, she had better fucking be there. Otherwise he’d rip the entire valley to shreds until he found her. And her fucking family.
“Maximus.” Her soft voice pulled him back to the present. She had a strange smile on her face, but in the gathering darkness it was difficult to determine her precise expression.
“What?” It was a growl. He couldn’t help it. No woman had ever annoyed him so.
“I’ll be here waiting for you.” A silken caress that soothed his wounded ego. “I’ll always be here waiting for you.”
He sucked in a deep breath, savoring the scent of crushed flowers, fresh sweat and hot, abandoned sex. Her promise appeased him. For now.
“Very well.”
* * *
Carys shivered as her Roman finally rolled off her, severing contact. She had the powerful urge to pull him back and entice him inside her again, because his withdrawal left a gaping chasm. Cold. Lonely. Extraordinary sensations that gripped her body and confused her mind.
A second lantern flickered and died, and Carys jerked up. She had little time before all the lights extinguished and the smoke’s magic, hallucinogenic properties vanished, allowing Maximus to realize, should anyone pass by the circle, that they were invisible to the world.
She caught sight of her gown lying some distance off. Her Roman reclined on the blanket, propped up on his elbows, watching her as a predator watched his prey.
He clearly had no intention of collecting her gown for her. On hands and knees she crawled across the grass, aware of his intense gaze on her exposed buttocks. She gave an exaggerated wiggle of her hips and glanced over her shoulder to catch his reaction.
His eyes clashed with hers. “Do that again.” His voice was eerily calm. “And see where it lands you.”
The temptation to do just that was strong. But the watchful look on his face assured her that if she pushed, he would take. And she couldn’t afford to linger much longer.
She crushed her disappointment. Safety was of paramount importance, and she wouldn’t allow herself to risk discovery through mindless lust.
“I don’t wriggle to order,” she said instead, and grabbed her gown as Maximus made as if to rise. “No. There isn’t time.” She hastily pulled her gown over her head. Maximus remained on the blanket, but she could see every muscle tensed as if he was waiting for the slightest provocation to pounce.
“You don’t appear to do anything to order.”
She tugged her gown straight and threaded the ties at her breast.
“Not when they’re given by a man.” She flashed him a teasing smile. Heat bloomed deep in the center of her being at the sardonic grin he tossed her way. As if he didn’t believe her but was prepared to indulge her fantasy.
“You had best start learning how to obey orders given by this man.”
She sat back on her heels, knowing she didn’t have time for such flirtations and yet unwilling to shatter the moment.
“It’s possible,” she said, “I may make an exception in your case.”
He laughed. She knew he hadn’t meant to, knew he was still angry with her for refusing to go with him. But still he laughed at her, as if he couldn’t help himself.
Chapter 10
Two more lanterns gutted, and panic licked around the edge of her heart. She grabbed her bag, which was usually filled with dozens of medicinal herbs and lotions but tonight was used only for the lanterns and protective bluestones and certain feminine essentials.
“Maximus, get dressed.” She shot him an anxious glance as she gathered up the dark lanterns and potent bluestones. “There are only a few moments left before all the flames die.”
He didn’t move, and his gaze never left her. “Are you afraid of the dark, lady?”
His question was so unexpected, she paused, an illicit shard of bluestone in hand. “No, not at all.” And it wasn’t completely dark. The moon gave plenty of illumination.
He rose to his feet and she stared up at him, committing his magnificent body to memory. She barely flinched when a fifth lantern sputtered.
“Yet you bathed us in light to keep back the night.” He sauntered toward her, naked and proud and clearly ready for her again. Her gut clenched with painful need. It was no longer safe. No matter how much she wanted to feel his hard body possess her again.
“This is a lover’s circle.” It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the entire truth.
He crouched, picked up a dead lantern and handed it to her. As she took it, his fingers closed over hers. “I’ll ride with you back to your people.”
“I can’t let you do that.” She didn’t try to pull away from him. Didn’t want to pull away from him. But she couldn’t allow him to accompany her to the sacred spiral either.
“It wasn’t a question.”
She stroked his roughened jaw with her free hand. “I’ll be perfectly safe, Maximus. I know these hills and valleys intimately. They are my friends.”
He scowled, as if he considered such sentiments absurd.
“You’re a woman. You shouldn’t be wandering the countryside alone at night.”
She decided to try another angle. “If you accompany me, I’d be a traitor to my kin.” Her thumb grazed over his rigid jaw. The very fact he hadn’t instantly refuted her words proved he recognized her loyalty even while it displeased him.
She sighed, as the conflicting emotions collided in her mind and ignited her body in a maelstrom of renewed desire. Her refusal on this point had little to do with him being a Roman. Even if she’d taken a man from one of the villages as her lover, she still could never have allowed him access to the sacred spiral.
“So you intend for us only to ever meet here?”
She didn’t want that either. But what choice did they have?
“It’s better than never meeting at all.” At least, it was for her. She hoped he felt the same. His body certainly appeared to agree with her.
His brow crinkled as if their conversation bemused him. Or perhaps he simply wasn’t used to making compromises. Especially not with a woman.
That thought fluttered through her mind, dis
turbing her on a fundamental level. Did he truly see her as unworthy of such respect?
“Your sense of honor irks me greatly.” He was still frowning and there was iron in his voice. Carys dared to stroke his hair with the palm of her hand and shivered with delight as the now-familiar sensation tickled across her flesh.
He pulled from her reach with evident impatience. “Don’t start something that you have no intention of finishing.” He snatched up another lantern and pinched the guttering flame between thumb and forefinger before thrusting it into her open bag.
“I’ll finish you in three nights.”
“Assuming I’m prepared to wait that long.”
Her heart thundered in her chest, outraged by the suggestion. She clutched the bluestone, unheeding how the jagged edges drew blood, scarcely able to believe he had uttered such a thing.
“You would take another woman in the meantime?” How dare he even consider fucking another woman after the magical night they had just shared?
And despite her limited personal experience she knew how well she had satisfied him.
His lips curled as if he thought her amusing, but since that was impossible Carys could only assume the uneven illumination was playing tricks with her eyes.
By the goddess, she would poke out the eyes of any woman who dared touch her Roman. She raised her fist, still clutching the sacred shard of bluestone.
“Answer me!”
There was no mistaking the self-satisfied smirk on his face now. Irrational anger pumped through her blood at the realization he was laughing at her. She knew she was being irrational, because why did it matter so much?
He was only a man, and her enemy at that, whom she was using to satisfy her carnal longings. What he did when they weren’t together was of no consequence whatsoever.
But still the anger bubbled in her veins. And if he dared vocalize his mirth, she would—she would hit him.
“Does my little wood nymph have a temper?” His voice mocked her. “Does the thought of me pleasuring other women make you jealous?”
She slammed her fist against his chest. It was as if she’d slammed her hand against pure granite.
The Druid Chronicles: Four Book Collection Page 9