by Sara Fawkes
In place of the previous night’s two wooden posts was something that looked like a picnic table, but without the flat tabletop. The structure was instead topped with padded leather in a deep shade of crimson, and Ariel felt her heart begin to flutter with anticipation.
“Bend over the bench, Ariel.” A frisson of excitement passed through her as slowly, but hesitantly, she did as he asked.
So much had changed in the last day. Twenty-four hours earlier she would have fought him on such a request. Now . . . now she knew just how much pleasure his orders could bring to her.
Bent at a ninety-degree angle, Ariel rested her flushed cheek against the cool leather, her hands tucked beneath her torso.
“How was your time at the spa?” Marco moved to stand behind her, and Ariel could feel the length of his cock, already erect, pressing into the nearly naked curve of her bottom. She ground her teeth together to keep from rocking her hips back against him.
Patience, she knew he would tell her to be patient.
She didn’t want him to have to tell her. She wanted to be what he wanted her to be.
Belatedly, she realized that he was waiting for an answer.
“It was lovely.” She smiled beatifically, aware that he was searching her face for hints of sarcasm.
“All of it was lovely?” He smoothed his hands over the curves of her behind, smoothing over the newly scrubbed skin.
“Every last bit.” She made sure to keep her voice as sweet as sugar.
Ariel felt a surge of triumph when Marco dipped his fingers into the sides of the thong and exhaled loudly.
“You did it.” His fingers explored the smooth, naked skin, and Ariel shivered as a thrill rocketed through her.
“You told me to.” Her voice was calm, but inside she was clenched tightly. When would he discover the alteration she’d made to her outfit?
The fingers caressing the silken skin grazed the slit in the silk only moments later. She heard him hum low in his throat as he stroked through the opening.
“I do believe I told you to wear only what I sent you, Miss Monroe. That meant in their original condition.” Slowly, he slid one finger through the slit and inside of her.
Ariel moaned, savoring the touch.
“I could spank you for this, you know.” Marco crooked the finger inside her, rubbing against a tight bundle of nerves, and Ariel jolted.
“I only wanted to please you,” she said, her voice breathless and as innocent as she could make it. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I do like it.” Marco’s words were full of dark pleasure. He drove his finger in deeper. “But your only saving grace at the moment is that I can’t wait another moment to be inside you.”
“Yes.” Ariel hissed out a breath. She was aching for him, for him to possess her in every way possible.
“Don’t move.” Her muscles tightened with anticipation as Marco pulled his finger from her moist heat. “And don’t speak. Don’t make even a sound.”
Her teeth sank into her lip, and she closed her eyes. She never would have imagined it, but she found that she liked being given orders like this. She liked being told what she could and couldn’t do and given freedom to do as she wished up to that point.
She was no longer going to question it. She was simply going to enjoy.
“I’m not going to cuff you this time, Ariel.” Marco tugged on the strings of her thong, pulling the fabric tightly over her clit. “Because I think that my command is enough. You are restrained on this bench with my words, and you can’t leave until I release you.”
She trembled. This was true. She wouldn’t.
“You and your gorgeous little body have been driving me insane all day.” Slitting open her eyes, Ariel saw Marco drag over his leather bag, the one she had come to think of as his toy bag. He was close enough that she could see what he pulled from it—a bottle of lubricant, something that was shaped like an erect cock, and . . . oh Lord . . . another anal plug.
She wanted to protest, then remembered that she was supposed to stay silent. Her muscles clenched as she anticipated what was to come.
“I used a plug on you today to see how you would react to anal play.” Ariel felt the chill of lubricant as Marco drizzled it over her behind. She swallowed a moan as his sure fingers began to smooth it through her crease. “I saw how much it aroused you. This one . . .”
Marco held up a blue object that looked a bit like an elongated lightbulb for Ariel to see. Her eyes widened, and her muscles clenched. It was huge.
Marco rubbed lubricant over it, then moved out of sight. She felt it press against her pucker, and she couldn’t quite hold back the groan.
“This one is to prepare you for my cock.” The tip of the plug pushed past her tight ring of muscles, and Ariel’s hands scrabbled for something to grab hold of. “Push back against it.”
She hesitated; could she really do this? Then, gritting her teeth, she did as he asked. The burn as it entered her was enough to make sweat trickle down her back, but the heat melted to pleasure more quickly than it had earlier that day.
“Gorgeous.” Once the base of the plug was snug against the globes of her rear, Marco slipped his hand down the front of her thong. “You have the most spectacular ass.”
Ariel hissed as something hard was settled over her clit. She felt Marco’s thumb move against the object, and it came to life, vibrating with a low intensity, just enough to bring her cunt to life.
“Oh.” She exhaled and pressed into his fingers, wanting him to hold the thing to the hard nub of her clit, to give her more and let her come. Instead, he pulled his hand from her thong, and she swallowed a groan.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” She could smell her own arousal on his fingertips as he reached forward and pulled the top of her bustier down until her breasts fell free. He cupped them in his large hands, massaging them, toying with her nipples until she was half-crazed.
His words were an arrow spearing through the haze of lust. She knew that she was attractive enough, but she was used to people’s manipulating her looks, her body in order to make more money.
Right now she was sweaty, her hair was in a messy ponytail, and she didn’t have even a hint of makeup on her face. Yet he thought she was beautiful?
Her heart gave a painful squeeze inside her chest, and she fought through a momentary urge to flee. This was starting to feel like more than sex to her—how could it not, when he said things like that?
She’d worked too hard on her career to become infatuated with some man.
Hadn’t she?
She lost her train of thought entirely when Marco released her breasts, and she heard the rasp of his zipper as it lowered.
“I need to be inside you. I can’t wait any longer.” She felt the head of his cock nudge at her entrance, then he seated himself in one stroke, and she gasped as her muscles stretched.
He didn’t give her even a moment to adjust, instead setting a relentless pace right from the start, thrusting hard and fast. It was too much—she couldn’t breathe. She could feel the movements of his cock rubbing against the anal plug through the thin membrane that separated the two channels and the vibrator making all the nerves between her legs sizzle.
Her first orgasm was small and hard, a slap in the face, and she cried out loud with it.
“That’s it.” Marco wrapped his fist in her ponytail, tugging as he rode her. “Again. Come again.”
His thighs slapped against her buttocks as he thrust. His free hand slid over her belly and down, pressing on the vibrator through the thin silk of the thong, and another thunderclap of orgasm rolled over her, right on the heels of the first.
She sagged on the bench, not sure her legs could hold her up any longer. Marco slowed his movements for a moment, reaching forward to adjust something on the bench, and Ariel found her torso arching downward, bending her in half.
“Look at that ass.” One sharp spank on one cheek, then the other. “I like seeing my
handprints on it. I like knowing that that skin is pink because you’re mine.”
She cried out when he pulled on the plug in her rear, setting her ass on fire as he moved it out. “You’re so ready for me.” His voice was a caress, and he traced a finger delicately around the rim of her anus as he pulled his cock from her cunt.
“Please.” Ariel froze as soon as the word slipped past her lips—she wasn’t supposed to speak. But Marco’s hands stilled from where they were massaging more lubricant into her entrance.
“Please what, Ariel?” His finger skimmed between her cheeks, and she nearly sobbed, she so badly wanted to be filled.
“Please . . . I want you.” Her words were hoarse, and she felt as if she hadn’t spoken for a week.
Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest as she felt him press the tip of his cock to her anus. Never before had she considered anal sex.
But for him, she would do anything.
“Do you feel this, Ariel?” She nearly screamed as, with excruciating gentleness, Marco began to press his thick, long erection inside her. It was painful and hot, and at the same time excited her more than anything she’d ever done. “Do you feel how full you are with me, with what I can do to you?”
She moved her head back and forth on the bench, searching for a cool spot on which to rest her feverish cheeks. She was dimly aware of the sounds of others in the room, but it was if from a great distance.
They might have been watching. She was past the point of caring.
“Answer me.” Marco began to pull out, and Ariel pushed back against him.
She didn’t want him to go. She wanted to be joined with him—wanted him to be a part of her.
“I feel it.” Her words were scarcely more than a breathy whisper.
“Have you ever felt anything like this before?” Marco pushed back in, and before Ariel could adjust to the sensation, he began to move, short little thrusts that seated him fully inside her with every push of his hips.
“No.” She moaned out the word, reaching back and trying to get hold of his hips to hold him inside her. “No, I never have.”
Marco picked up his pace, and his movements became less careful. Pain mixed with pleasure in a heady potion until Ariel felt, unbelievably, her thighs tense for a third time.
“Come with me. Please.” She clenched around him, heard him shout, then slam into her one final time.
Satisfaction washed through her as she felt the heat of his orgasm, marking her as his own.
His own. The thought stayed with her as her own final release crashed over it. One long wave of bliss left her sated and trembling, Marco still nestled inside of her.
He tried to pull out, and Ariel raised her head and growled.
“I’m yours.” She was surprised by the fierceness of her own voice.
“Wait.” Even though she clenched around him again, he pulled out, and she felt a cool, damp cloth wiping over her skin, cleaning the mess from her body.
A blanket was wrapped around her, then his arms, but instead of carrying her to the couches as last night, Marco sat down on the floor and pulled her onto his lap. As she realized what she had said, she ducked her head and tried to bury it against his chest.
“No.” Marco caught her chin in firm fingers and turned her until she had to look up at him. There was no way she could have resisted the beckon of those blue eyes, which were so honest and open and full of care . . . care for her.
The realization took her breath away.
She wanted to submit to him the way he wanted to care for her.
“Tell me again. What did you say?” His lips were a whisper away from hers, and one hand stroked through her sweat-dampened hair.
She thought of her resolution to focus on her career, not on men. She thought of how content she was in that moment, how she was happier than she’d been in years.
She’d find a way to have her cake and eat it, too. She had to, because no way was she giving up what she’d discovered—Marco.
Marco cleared his throat, and she realized that he was still waiting for her to answer. She swallowed past the great lump in her throat, opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Damn it.” She was Ariel Monroe. She took life by the reins and lived it, and that was what she was going to do now.
Reaching for his hand, she laced her fingers through his, and lifted them so that Marco could see. When she spoke, her tone was fierce.
“I said I’m yours.” She’d expected him to be triumphant, even to crow a little bit.
But then, if he had, he wouldn’t be the man she wanted to submit to.
“Ariel.” Dipping her backwards in his arms, Marco kissed her, and this time it wasn’t a soft brush of his lips on her own. No, this kiss was full of possession, full of lips and tongues and teeth, and when she was allowed a chance to catch a breath, Ariel felt as if she’d been branded.
She found that she didn’t mind.
“Let’s go back upstairs. I have plans that involve a bathtub and you, naked.” The muscles in Marco’s arms rippled as he rose to his feet with Ariel still clutched to him. She felt a small, innately feminine thrill as he strode through the club with her held tightly to his chest.
She had just given a small sigh of contentment, nuzzled in against his chest. When he spoke, she had to lift her head to catch his words.
“I guess this means we both win our bargain.” Marco grinned down at her, and Ariel’s answering smile was wide.
He was absolutely right.
About the Author
LAUREN HAWKEYE is a writer, theatre enthusiast, knitting aficionado, and animal lover who lives in the shadows of the great Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada. She’s published several novels and novellas with Harlequin and under the name Lauren Jameson with NAL.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
The threat of death and the promise of passion . . .
In harsh Ancient Rome, the only thing riskier than a female gladiator in the arena is the pure joy of love. For champion gladiator Lilia, the risk is worth everything.
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SEDUCED BY THE GLADIATOR
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Chapter Four
THE BATHS WERE empty, and I thanked the gods for that small blessing. My ankle protested vehemently as I hobbled across the large room, the steam clinging to me like the soft touch of a lover.
It was difficult to put weight on my injured foot, to step up the few stairs that led to one of the baths. I knew that the heat and the minerals in the water would help it to heal faster, however, so I ground my teeth together, tried to limit the weight on that foot, and half hopped, half dragged myself up to the platform.
“Aah.” The relief was instantaneous as I submerged my injured foot. I shifted my weight on the edge of the tub, allowing my legs to dangle freely in the water. The ripples made by my submersion bumped gently against my thighs, washing away the sweat and dust of the day.
The heat tried to pry the tension out of my muscles, but my shoulders stayed tight. I could not turn the scene that had played out minutes earlier from my mind.
What had Christus been thinking, defending my honor that way yet again? And so very publicly. I wanted to feel rage—wanted to target that rage at him, this man who had barged into my life and turned it upside down.
I found that I did not have the energy. For just a few minutes, I wanted to sit here, let the steam moisten my skin, and not have to worry about defending myself, about how I appeared to the outside world. Did not want to consider the factors that made up my life—the fact that death lurked around every corner.
I just wanted to be Lilia, even if only for a few moments.
“Lilia?” I did not even attempt to swallow my groan, nor did I turn around. By now I recognized the voice, the tread of his weight over the dust on the ground.
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br /> I listened to that tread as it made its way across the great room, toward me. There was a slight hesitation before I heard Christus climb the same steps that I had only moments before.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back in avoidance. I was no closer to sorting through the mess of anger, thankfulness and lust than I had been on the sands.
When I could feel by the sloshing of the water against my legs that he had joined me in the tub, I sighed, finally opening my eyes to glare at him balefully.
I did not ask why he had done it. He had already told me, countless times and in varied ways. Asking him again would not make him stop.
“Why will you not just leave me alone?” This, I thought, was a fairer question. Though the man seemed determined to defend the honor of a lady, he had gone far beyond that. There was a connection that had been forged between us, one initiated by him, and what I did not understand was why he had done so.
I was difficult, I was stubborn, I was rude. I had mercurial changes of mood, and was haunted by ghosts that I did not wish to dwell on.
I watched his finely hewn features as he tilted his head, studying me intently.
“Do not tell me that you do not feel it, too.”
I opened my mouth to do just that, and found that my words had dried up, for Christus had reached down into the water and gripped my injured ankle in gentle hands.
“What are you doing?” My words were a hiss as I looked frantically around the room. We were alone for the moment, thank the gods, but someone could come in at any moment.
Weak was the least of the things that I would appear to be if someone were to come upon this scene, me flushed from the steam, Christus’ sure fingers beginning to lightly massage the purpling skin of my ankle.
Every touch of his fingers sent a lick of fire straight between my legs. Though I tried to swallow it down, a groan escaped my lips.
His touch felt so incredibly good.
“I cannot let myself be seen like this.” There was no point in denying that I found his touch pleasurable. Against my better judgment, I closed my eyes for a moment—just a moment—and let sensation wash over me.