by Aidan, Nadia
“That is right, Anan, reflect on your words, because you know nothing of my motivations. Just as you know nothing of my wants, my desires.”
She bristled at Cassius’ smug words that were laced with sharp ice, while Titus stiffened against her, and for a passing moment she wondered if it was always like this for him—having to smooth over the harsh bluntness of Cassius’ words. She imagined it was, and she felt a twinge of compassion for the burden he carried.
For Cassius she spared none of her compassion as she pierced him with a long, hard stare.
“Then tell me, Cassius, of these wants, these desires, since I am so ignorant.”
“I want you,” he said quietly, simply, but it was the smug challenge, the arrogant gleam in his eyes that stiffened her spine. As handsome as he was, there were not many women whom Cassius wanted, whom he did not get, if any, and he knew it.
“Well who says I want you?” she shot back in defiance of his arrogance that he thought her so desperate that she would so easily fall into his bed just because he wanted her.
A warning flashed in Titus’ eyes then that begged her not to provoke Cassius, but in her anger, she ignored it. “It would seem that even now I am in Titus’ arms, that I am always in Titus’ arms, but never yours. You claim you want me, but your words are feeble to me. And like all else, you are probably only following where Titus leads. Really, Cassius, you only desire me because Titus does, and the more I think on it, the more I find such a notion distasteful, and you as well—”
“Anan,” Titus rasped to her in a quiet voice for her ears only, his warning sharp.
The warning came too late.
“I care not about your wants, Cassius, because I realize now that I do not want you at all. Just as I imagine my bed would still be warm if you were somehow absent from it.”
Titus let out a low groan and the look he gave her was one of reproach.
Anan did not understand it until before her eyes, Cassius’ entire countenance changed. Carefully he removed his breastplate, the helmet atop his head and set it down on the ground.
His red tunic screamed at her as he approached, as if it echoed the scorching anger churning in his eyes. She clung to Titus, trying to pull deeper into his embrace for safety, for security, but it was futile.
He shook his head, his eyes shadowed as he pulled away.
“Titus,” she called to him in a low whisper.
“I tried to stop you.” His smile was gentle. “When we are with women, he is always the one who commands.”
Her brow peaked. “And who is it that issues the commands when you are with men?”
“We do not share men,” Titus answered.
“Why not?”
Titus hesitated, his gaze questioning Cassius.
Cassius’ feral stare remained riveted upon her. “She already knows, Titus. Don’t you, Anan?”
She gasped in surprise, her heart hammering harder and faster inside her chest.
“The scented oils you wear are quite distinctive, the silhouette your shadow created against the wall even more so. I stared at you the entire time you watched Titus fuck me. I enjoyed watching you, but do you know what I enjoyed even more?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and could only shake her head.
“I enjoyed returning the favor. While Titus bathed, I watched you play with that pretty pink pussy of yours. I watched you finger your slit, then caress your nub until you were wet. Your moans were impossible to ignore, especially when you found release.”
If Pluto could have taken her to the Underworld, she would have welcomed the earth swallowing her up in that moment, she was so embarrassed.
“Did you stroke your cunt to the vision of Titus fucking me?”
She would have sworn she was frozen in shock but when he demanded an answer in a harsh voice, his warm breath blasting across her face, she managed to stammer out, “Y-Yes.”
“Did you imagine Titus and me fucking you as well?”
“Yes.” Her blood seemed to thicken in her veins as he slowly peeled his tunic from his body and cast it aside. Ridges of tanned, hard muscle flowed together, seamlessly molding then melding to create the battle-toned, battle-hardened god who now stood before her, his proud cock jutting out from its nest of dark curls.
“You know what I imagined when I went to the baths later? I imagined fucking you. I imagined taking you in every hole. I imagined Titus doing the same. Sometimes at the same time, other times we would take our turn until we were spent.”
His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her close.
“Did you hear me? I plan to fuck you, Titus plans to fuck you until we are spent, until we are tired, not you.” His breaths were harsh, ragged. “And do you know what that means?”
He did not seem to desire a response, for which she was grateful because she could not speak even if she wanted to when his hand snaked around her body to cup one globe of her backside in his hand, which he used to pull her flush against his hard body.
“What that means,” he continued, ignoring her gasp, “is that if you are tired and I roll over and my rod is hard, you shall take me inside your body. If you are asleep, you shall wake and spread your legs for me. If your cunt is sore then you shall offer me your ass and if that is sore then you shall pleasure me with your mouth until I am spent, until Titus is spent, until you have pleasured us so thoroughly we no longer have any seed left to give you.”
She trembled at the intensity of his words, the lewdness of his statement. He made her out to be a whore, but the way he looked at her, with passion, with longing—she’d never felt so cherished.
“B-But you do not want me,” she said weakly.
He regarded her as if she were mad. “Does this suggest that I do not want you?” he demanded, grinding his cock into her belly.
“B-But you hate that you do. You never touch me, only Titus.”
“I am touching you now.” His eyes darkened. “And from here on out, when we are in bed Titus will only touch you when I command it.”
Her gaze flickered to Titus. “And what of when you two are alone?”
“I am his to command,” Cassius answered, even as her attention remained riveted upon Titus. “He touches me when he pleases, he takes me when he wishes it. If I am inside you and he wants to fuck me, then I shall take him, even as I take you. But when we are intimate, he does not touch you without my command—ever.”
Her eyes still did not leave Titus, whose nostrils flared, his expression hard and dominant as his lips twisted into an arrogant smile.
“Do you understand, Anan?”
Cassius reclaimed her attention with his question.
She nodded.
She understood perfectly.
Chapter Six
As Cassius crushed his mouth to hers, Anan was quite clear as to what was expected of her, what was expected of Titus, even what was expected of Cassius in this strange arrangement she’d somehow entered into with these two men.
She parted her lips beneath his, yielding to the demanding thrust of his tongue inside her mouth, even as her mind accepted what she’d just agreed upon.
Most of her life had been spent hating the Romans.
Most of her life she’d spent loathing them.
And yet now, she welcomed the touch of common soldiers of the Roman military, she practically begged for their touch.
She should have felt shame.
She felt none.
They offered her something that she’d never experienced—passion at the hands of one who desired her.
She started at the sudden absence of Cassius’ lips from hers and she looked up into swirling eyes of sapphire and silver, full of passion and burgeoning need.
His gaze dipped and she followed its direction, arousal coiling tight in her belly when she saw his hand fisted around the thick, hard length of his cock, gently stroking his rigid flesh.
No words passed between them, only the silent understanding in their eyes accompa
nied by the gentle pressure of his hand against her shoulder.
Anan kneeled before Cassius, her knees sinking into the soft grass. Her fingers were tentative at first as they replaced his to curl around his rod.
“Harder,” he rasped. “Pump me harder.”
His eyes were shadowed by thick lashes, the vein in his neck pulsing with each soft touch of her hand. She swallowed the nervous ball in her throat and obeyed his command, her hand moving up and down his flesh faster, fisting him harder within her grasp.
A deep, guttural moan rumbled out of him, encouraging her to increase the pulsing tempo of her strokes. He trembled beneath her touch and she looked up at him, her gaze snared by the intensity blazing in the depths of his eyes.
For some reason, she longed to give this man pleasure, yearned to please him more than anything else. She could not fathom it, nor understand its purpose, but her pleasure seemed to hinge upon his own and she wanted to satisfy him fully, desperately.
“Suck it,” he commanded harshly. “Wrap your lips around my cock and suck it hard.”
Anan was all too eager to take him between her lips and she leaned forward, filling her mouth with him as she took his rod deep.
She shuddered at the taste of him, the smell of him, drawing his unique essence deep inside her body until she too was trembling violently. Her pussy throbbed as she bobbed up and down on his cock, coating his shaft with the wetness of her mouth. She longed to do the same with her cunt and she moaned around him at the vision of her pumping up and down on his length, her juices drenching his thrusting cock.
She heard Cassius’ voice in the distance, a command, but not for her, for Titus.
Anan did not break her rhythm at the touch of Titus’ hand against her skin, pushing the stola past her thighs until it bunched at her hips. Titus’ lips stroked the crook of her neck as he plunged his hand between her thighs and fingered her pussy that gushed with moisture.
She gasped around Cassius’ length, heat arrowing through her at the onslaught of sensations pulsing through her body.
Titus’ fingers inside her were magical and pleasure raked through her, fueling her movements as she lustily sucked Cassius’ cock, taking him deep and hard, until the tip of him grazed the back of her throat.
Her pleasure seemed to fan the flames of his, and his hand found the back of her head, his fingers clutching desperately, pulling at her hair.
Cassius pumped his hips, shoving his cock deep inside her waiting mouth and she took him, all of him, savoring the throaty groans floating from his lips, the pulsing tremors that raced through his body.
Her own body was racked by tremors as Titus’ fingers pumped deeper inside her sheath while his other hand, which had pushed her garment from her shoulder, now massaged the heavy weight of her breast, plucking at her hard nipple. Desire twisted her insides, threatening to claim her, but she battled against it.
Even as the warm haze of bliss began to come over her, even as her body trembled, she resisted the need to succumb. She would not come, she would not climax until Cassius found release inside her mouth.
She craved his seed on her tongue, down her throat, more than she craved anything else. She needed to know that she satisfied him, that she could give him pleasure with her lips, with her body. Her hand lifted to cup the heavy sac beneath his rod and she massaged him, her mouth delving deeper until his entire shaft filled her mouth, until he was buried deep, down her throat. With a hoarse, loud roar, Cassius tipped his head back and gushed into her waiting mouth, the warmth of his seed blasting the back of her throat. She swallowed several times, taking the metallic essence of him inside her, until he ceased to spurt.
Finally he shuddered and wrenched away from her, his softening cock falling from her lips, then he dropped down before her and seized her face between his hands and kissed her. His tongued plundered her mouth, hard and deep, and she gasped in surprise, in pleasure that he sought the taste of himself upon her lips, that he would kiss her after she’d pleasured him, that it did not repulse him.
It would seem quite the opposite as he devoured her mouth until she was void of breath, and when he finally pulled away she understood why.
“I love the taste of myself upon your lips,” he whispered as he placed a smattering of kisses along her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, then back again. “It is a sweet, erotic taste.”
As he kissed her, he pushed her down atop the ground, the soft grass beneath her back. Only then did she realize Titus had slipped out from under her. Her gaze searched him out until it found him, and she watched in rapt fascination as he removed his tunic, revealing the corded, hard length of his powerful body. His skin was a beautiful golden hue, darkened by the sun and covered in sandy hairs a shade lighter than the tawny locks crowning his head.
She could have stared at him forever, but then her legs were being wrenched apart and she felt a coolness against the moist folds of her womanhood.
Cassius hovered between her spread thighs, the cool afternoon air stroking her flesh until he settled his face against her mound, his warm breath heating the lips of her dripping pussy.
He held her gaze from between her legs, and the sight of him watching her, watching her reaction at the first touch of his lips against her pussy, was so beautifully sensual, so wondrously erotic that she almost found climax in that very moment.
She could not tear her gaze away from him even if she wanted to, not even if the heavens opened up and rained hail and fire would she have dared break their stare.
His gaze upon her as he intimately stroked his tongue inside her did something to her body, but that was not what made her belly churn or her breath still. It was what he revealed in the indigo depths of his eyes—a raw need to give pleasure and receive it, to be wanted and accepted, to be desired and fulfilled. The longing in his eyes mirrored her own desperate yearnings and she could have wept, she could have cried out to know she was not alone in the intimacy they shared, the depth of its meaning to them both.
She looked once again at Titus and corrected herself. To them all.
Her gaze returned to Cassius, but now his eyes were shadowed, haunted. She touched his cheek with her hand, letting it roam until it tangled in his onyx mane.
He was afraid.
The intensity of the bond growing between them scared him—it scared her.
He hated that he was powerless to his desire for her, that he could not seem to squelch the desperate needs of his body—that somehow it was more than the desires of his body that drove him.
Anan understood all too well this hopelessness, this helplessness, the futility of resistance and denial of her physical needs, the needs of her soul.
Her lips could forever proclaim she hated the Romans—despised these two men even.
The longings of her body would prove her lips capable of lies.
With the touch of her hand, her fingers tried to soothe him with the gentleness of her caress. He still desperately fought to maintain the lie, but his body was making the battle an impossible one.
She understood all too well.
As if he could read her thoughts, his mouth upon her pussy moved with an almost desperate urgency as he devoured her with hot, hard laps of his tongue.
He sought to end this quickly, to bring her body to climax so he could withdraw from her—physically, emotionally.
It was Titus who thwarted his intent.
Titus kneeled beside her, pumping his ruddy shaft with hard, desperate strokes, the eyelid of his cock weeping with a droplet of his desire.
His face was twisted in pleasurable agony, the muscles of his body hard and rigid with tension.
He could not touch her, would not touch her, without Cassius’ permission.
Cassius’ face softened and he drew back slightly.
“Take him into your mouth, Anan, and suck him as you just did me.”
She whimpered with need, at the loss of Cassius’ mouth against her cunt, even as she hungrily sought out Titus’ cock,
wanting to satisfy him just as much as she’d wanted Cassius to experience pleasure inside her mouth.
She turned toward Titus at the same time he sighed and gripped the back of her head, pushing his root inside her mouth at the same time she parted her lips.
A lewd curse flew from his lips as he filled her with his pulsing cock, driving deep.
“She sucks cock wondrously, doesn’t she?” Cassius asked with pleasure, with pride.
“By the gods, yes,” Titus groaned as he shuddered.
She closed her eyes and savored him, his thick erection stuffed full inside her mouth.
Cassius’ lips found their way back to her pussy, but this time his mouth was gentler as he built her desire once again. This time he did not seem to be driven by some furious demon of his past, of his present that feared the intimacy between them, the connection building between them all.
As she sucked upon Titus’ rod, she embraced the heat of arousal roiling through her, crawling inside her belly, insistent and needy as it pumped through her blood.
She sighed around the cock lodged inside her mouth as Cassius teased and tantalized her with his tongue, an arrow of liquid heat piercing her when he replaced his tongue with a hard, long finger.
Anan did not mistake the gasp of pleasure, of surprise when Cassius pumped his finger into her sheath, pushing against the clenching walls of her tunnel.
“You are as tight as a virgin,” Cassius rasped. “How long has it been, Anan, since a man has plowed these depths? Months?”
Longer, she thought, for she could not speak, her mouth was still full and occupied.
“You are not yet ready for my cock, for if I take you now I will hurt you.” Anan was in agreement with Cassius on that. His cock was long, Titus’ as well, and thick as her wrist.
“But when I take you, Anan,” Cassius breathed out, his voice thick and unsteady. The vision of him taking her must have filled his mind, just as it now filled hers and if it was having the same effect upon him, as it was having on her, then she appreciated why his voice now shook. “I shall stretch you fully, I shall bury my rod so deep that it will be many months before you ever find yourself this tight again.”