by Aidan, Nadia
Yet she had no other choice but to stare at him when he cupped her cheek with his hand and lifted her chin. “But you will not tell us,” Cassius said on a heavy sigh. “You still do not fully trust us, you still do not fully understand.” His eyes narrowed. “But you shall.”
That raised her brows. “Understand? Understand wha—”
He halted her next words with a single finger against her lips.
Her heart skipped a beat at the heated look in his eyes, full of desire, and something else?
Waves lapped against the marble tiles along the sides of the pool, breaking the silence, as Titus slipped into the water.
Cassius never did answer her. He never did tell her what it was she needed to understand.
That nagged at her until he brought his lips to hers and she forgot everything, for the moment, she even forgot how to breathe.
Cassius held Anan within the circle of his arms, his lips sealed tightly to hers, his tongue plundering inside to taste her sweet nectar, the pure feminine essence that radiated from her.
Anan’s wet, naked curves against his flesh, softened against the hard muscled planes of his body, yielding to his strength, to his dominance. The contrasts ignited a primitive awareness within him and the blood in his veins pumped through him like a hot geyser until his insides burned with molten fire.
His hands found their way to her cheeks, his fingers gentle against her skin. He deepened the kiss, his tongue going deeper. With his body he sought to convey what she did not seem to understand, what even he did not seem to understand himself.
He abruptly ripped his mouth from hers, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and he stared down at her.
These emotions she invoked, Cassius had only felt them once before. His gaze found Titus, who stood behind Anan. With the nod of his head, he gave Titus permission to touch her.
And when he did, when the three of their bodies were connected, every part of them entwined, he felt a rightness in his heart, all the way to the depths of his very soul.
A tremor raced through him at the knowledge of what all this meant. This one woman had the power to hurt him, to hurt Titus. He trailed a finger along her cheek, across the full softness of her lips. When she sighed, her breath warming his fingertips, he could no longer deny the truth.
He settled his mouth against hers again, in a kiss that warmed every inch of him, that inflamed every part of him. It was a foolish, reckless thing to do, for all their differences made it an impossibility to have a future together, but no longer could he deny that Anan was a part of them, she owned a piece of them now. Was it love? He could not say, nor could he speak for Titus, or Anan for that matter, but neither could he pretend that his heart did not beat faster when she touched him, when her gaze found its way to him.
When she looked at him, smiled at him, it was as if the sun shone only on him, as if the heavens favored only him.
Yes, this was a foolish, reckless, dangerous thing to do, but one was powerless against the needs of the heart.
Anan clung to Cassius, her hand twisting in the wet locks of his hair. He kissed her with a desperation, an urgency that bespoke of more than a kiss, more than just the physical yearnings of his body. He kissed her as if his soul was tortured, conflicted.
She wondered again of what it was she was supposed to understand. She wondered if the way he kissed her had anything to do with it. Because if it did, she already understood, and she understood well, the yearnings, the demands of one’s needs that were at odds with one’s mind, their very sanity.
This was a foolish thing to do, to open herself to these two men, two Romans, two soldiers—her enemies. They would only hurt her, leave her. Yet she could not force herself to stop, to deny them, to deny her.
Titus’ hand against her hip broke through her thoughts, his lips against the crook of her neck effectively bringing an end to all her musings.
What she shared with these men was forbidden for so many reasons and in so many ways, but when they touched her like this, with tenderness, with longing, she could not find a reason to protest, to deny what felt like perfection.
She gasped when Titus snaked his other hand around her body to settle it between her legs. His fingers speared her and she arched into him, her entire being quivering, shaking with need. Pleasure hammered through her, hot and pulsing, warming her to the core until she was damp, until Titus’ fingers were coated with her slick wetness.
Cassius drove into her mouth with his tongue at the same time Titus pounded his fingers inside her.
Both men claimed her, stamped her with their brand of dominance, their mark of possession.
Her climax did not come upon her as it normally did, the building of waves of pleasure inside her until it crashed upon her. Instead it hit her, a sudden bolt of lightning slicing through her, searing her. Anan clenched her eyes tight, her nails digging into the rough hard flesh of the two men who held her trapped between them.
Her pleasure shook her, dragged her across coals of hot fire until she was panting, until she was spent.
Cassius released her lips and drew back. The look brimming in his eyes told her she may have been spent, but she was not yet done, far from it.
She found herself being guided to the edge of the pool, her hands splayed flat atop the tiles. Her body was bent over, her legs splayed wide. Water sloshed against her as Titus climbed out. And when he knelt before her, his knees atop the edge of the pool and his rod in his hand, every nerve ending within her tingled to life all over again.
Cassius stood behind her so she could not see him, but she imagined, like Titus, he held the thick length of his cock in his palm, stroking it slowly until a tiny droplet beaded at the opening, proclaiming the intensity of his arousal.
Titus’ free hand wrapped around the back of her head, tangling in her hair at the same time one of Cassius’ hands settled along her hip.
She realized then their intent. They would take her at the same time, Titus filling her mouth while Cassius filled her sheath. The thought of it was wicked, erotic and she trembled in anticipation. Yet the thought was incomparable to the exquisite pleasure of Cassius stretching her cunt at the same time Titus brushed his cock against her lips before plowing inside.
She gasped around hard flesh, then groaned at the pleasure-pain of Cassius’ rod being buried to the hilt inside her, stuffing her channel full and deep.
All she could feel was cock. Her very existence seemed to be centered upon cock—the thrusting, pounding rods of the two men who pummeled inside her, who filled her.
Her head bobbed as she swallowed Titus’ shaft on long, deep strokes at the same time Cassius shoved his way inside her. With each thrust, Cassius forced her mouth deeper upon Titus until she was taking him all the way to the back of her throat.
She did not look up, but the way his hand fisted in her hair, the shudders racing through his body, she imagined Titus’ face was drawn tight, the muscles of his chest, his abdomen were taut as he hovered at the brink of pleasure, wanting to find release, but not wanting it to come so soon.
Her own pleasure, which she’d found only moments ago, roared to life, reverberating through her entire being until she was trembling. Cassius’ hands, one of which had been teasing the tiny nub at her juncture while the other hand still gripped her hip, both now climbed along the length of her body to cup her swaying breasts.
He kneaded the soft mounds as he plucked at her stiff nipples. His thrusting cock rammed harder and deeper inside her as if toying with her breasts excited him unduly. His breath was now harsh and ragged as he plowed into her from behind, the heavy sac of his testes slapping against her dripping slit. Water sprayed across her face as Cassius quickened his pace, his strokes now wild, his rhythm uneven.
Cassius was close to coming, and when Titus began pumping erratically into her mouth, his thrusting length bruising her lips, she knew he was close as well.
Titus came swiftly as he clutched at her hair, his cock twitching inside he
r. He let out a long, hoarse shout that echoed against the walls as he shuddered against her, holding her in place as he poured his seed into her mouth on thick, spurting jets.
She swallowed every drop of him down her throat until he was soft and flaccid, but she did not release him, nor did he pull out of her. She suckled on his flesh, her tongue whirling around his length.
While Titus was now soft inside her, Cassius seemed to be hardening, his cock growing thicker, larger.
His hands tightened around her breasts in a desperate grip as he pounded against her, his turgid flesh driving deep until he shattered against her.
Cassius thrust inside her one last time, burying himself deep. Warmth filled her as he spurted inside her channel on a ragged groan and she clenched her muscles around him, sucking out every drop of his seed until he gave a lewd curse and collapsed against her back, spent, defeated.
It was a long while before either of them possessed the strength to move, and when they finally did, they quickly bathed and dressed and set about their duties for the day. But when they were done, they returned to Anan’s chambers where they succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh again and again until darkness fell and they were forced to sleep out of pure exhaustion.
* * * * *
Much like the night before, Anan was abruptly wrenched from her sleep, but instead of glimpsing a blurry figure lurking in the corners of her room, she spied something far worse.
Splashes of golds and reds, orange and white danced just beyond her window, the crackling sound sent a chill of fear racing down her back.
The burnished flames of the fire forced the three of them awake and within moments they were out of bed and dressed, heading outside to where the fire consumed one of her fruit trees, threatening the rest of her orchard.
Her servants were already about the task of casting buckets full of water at the swelling fire as they passed them down the line of people that ran from the well to the burning tree. Cassius’ unit of men joined the line, along with Cassius, but she noticed Titus did not.
His attention was focused on something back toward the villa. She called his name, but either he did not hear or he ignored her entirely as he set off in the darkness. When he raced away from her, only then did she glimpse the figure skulking in the shadows running toward the villa. She watched Titus chase after the fleeing intruder until they both disappeared from her line of vision and she was forced to return her attention to the tree that was being scorched by fire. She joined the line with her servants and Cassius’ men, passing pails of water along until the copper embers slowly died, leaving behind an empty tree, now blackened and charred.
Anan sighed in frustration, in relief.
The fire could have been worse, the damage monumental. That she’d only lost one tree was a miracle and she was fortunate. But that she’d lost any of her harvest when she had already lost so much and needed to sell as much as she could in order to repay Claudius angered her.
If this continued, she would lose everything, everything she’d worked so hard to build. She spared herself only a moment of pity before she began doling out orders so that they all could begin cleaning up this mess.
She had not lost everything, not even close. She needed to remember that. And she was determined she would not lose anything else.
Anan headed over to Cassius, although from his expression, she already knew they were of the same mind. His men would patrol the entire perimeter of her land on a constant basis, guarding it in shifts.
As she neared Cassius a flash of gold and red flickered in the corner of her eye and she turned as Titus stalked toward her. His eyes were narrowed as if in pain, and she noticed he clutched his side. She also noticed he carried a short sword that was not his own and droplets of blood clung to its blade.
“Titus?”
“Report,” Cassius ordered over her, in a voice full of masculine authority directed solely to Titus. In that moment he was not her lover, he was not Titus’. He was a soldier, the person in command.
“I thought I saw an intruder trying to get away. When I chased after him, he naturally ran. We exchanged blades and I managed to disarm him, but he still got away.”
Cassius frowned. “And you’re hurt?”
“A scratch.”
Cassius finally looked to her. “Do you have a slave to attend to him?”
She nodded, calling for one of her young healers who escorted Titus inside to dress his wound.
But before Titus left, he handed the recovered sword over to Cassius and the look that passed between the two men raised more than a few questions, but also confirmed the suspicion she’d had since she’d seen another figure lurking in her room. They recognized the weapon because it was familiar to them, which could only mean one thing.
By the time Cassius’ men were strategically placed across her grounds, and the debris from the fire cleared away, the moon was high in the night sky. She trudged inside her home with Cassius beside her but he did not speak and neither did she.
She was lost in her own thoughts, of what she’d seen, of what all this could mean. Anan entered the quarters that Titus shared with Cassius to find Titus stretched out on a pallet with a bandage against his side and his eyes closed.
He opened them as soon as they entered, a smile warming his face.
She smiled down at him as she settled beside him to lightly touch his wound.
“How do you feel?”
“Truthfully, I am fine. It really was just a shallow strike. Your servant only gave me a few stitches. I shall be up on my feet with little pain tomorrow, and should be fully healed by the end of the week.”
“That is good,” she replied, her hand gentle against his middle. She stilled when she saw another scar that ran along his other side. “What happened to you there?”
Had she any idea her question would cause a chill to settle over the room, she would not have asked it. Titus’ gaze flickered to Cassius, which caused her to gaze at him as well, but he did not look at her. It was as if it pained him to do so. A lump gathered in her throat, threatening to choke her.
“Cassius?”
“Since Titus is injured I will stand guard over you tonight. Speaking of which, it has been a long one.” As he spoke, he escorted her into her own chambers and did a quick perusal of her room before he turned to say, “While you prepare for bed, I wish to speak with Titus. I will only be a moment.”
He left her standing there in the center of her room, alone and confused, wondering when things had changed between them. And changed they had. She felt the coldness radiating from him as if it were the dead of winter. He would not look at her, he would not touch her. That he even spoke to her seemed to pain him.
With quick and quiet movements, she crept into bed, hoping she would be fast asleep when Cassius returned, even as she knew that was impossible. For even if she did fall asleep, Cassius’ presence was not one she could ignore, not even deep in her subconscious. In her sleep she would feel him, she would sense him, she would know he was there and her body, which was of its own mind these days, would idle the night away aching for him—to join her, to touch her, to love her as he had before, but appeared determined not to do again.
* * * * *
“Was that truly necessary?” Titus asked as soon as Cassius returned.
“I do not wish to talk of her this moment.”
“Her?” Titus sneered. “The woman who you fucked just hours ago, the woman who wears her heart so openly for us. The woman you just hurt with your coldness and your rejection. Her name is Anan. The least you could do is say her name, you bastard.”
Cassius closed his eyes on a weary sigh, desperately trying to shut out the disapproving look in Titus’ eyes, the forlorn expression he’d glimpsed on Anan’s face.
Anan would not understand, Titus did not understand. He sighed again.
“You do not know how hard this has been for me,” Cassius said, his voice low, the emotions inside him leaving every part of him ra
w and vulnerable. “To watch you nearly die because of a mistake I made.”
“It was not a mistake you made alone,” Titus said quietly, unevenly. They had not spoken of this. In the long months since it had happened, Cassius had refused to speak of this, apparently, until now. “I was as much to blame for what happened as anyone.”
Cassius opened his eyes again, though he still could not look upon Titus, though he still could not face him. “It was my decision to pursue Callypso, though you warned against it,” Cassius began. “You knew she was unstable, that her intent was to use us to make Phineaus jealous—”
“To make him jealous, yes, but neither of us could have imagined he’d try to kill us.”
“But he did and you almost died trying to save me. You almost died because of my recklessness, because of my frivolous desires.” Cassius was shaking by the time he finished, remembering the moments of terror he’d experienced at the thought of losing Titus, of having to face a life without Titus because of something he’d done.
“I do not blame you,” Titus said finally, quietly and Cassius almost splintered apart, hearing the words he’d longed to hear but didn’t think he’d deserved.
“How could you not? You almost died because of me. You were sent here because of me.”
“You are wrong. I almost died because a jealous madman and his equally mad wife tried to kill the man I love. I almost died trying to protect that man and I would do it over again, in a heartbeat. And we were sent here because General Sextus was forced to bend beneath the power Phineaus wielded as a magistrate. Had it been any other woman who’d been unfaithful, no one would have cared—”
“Which was why you warned me, but I did not listen.”
Titus held out his hand, beckoning Cassius to his side. Cassius dropped down to his knees beside Titus and lightly touched the blond hair curling along his temple.
“Is this why you’ve been distant?” Titus demanded. “Is this what you’ve been carrying inside you, all this guilt and shame, for the past months?” When he nodded, Titus sighed.