Now she was level with his face. Her thumb caressed his sensitive glans, his slick arousal sliding across her skin like ambrosia from the gods.
Slowly she bent her head. His fingers were still buried in her hair. She licked her lips, her mouth dry with nerves. But the butterflies in her stomach and the erratic pound of her heart were nothing like the blind panic she’d always experienced before when in a similar position.
I’ve never been in a similar position.
Gawain’s hands cradled her head, his grip firm. But there was no malice behind it. She knew she only had to lift her head and he would never try to stop her.
The knowledge spurred her courage. She held his shaft and tentatively flicked the tip of her tongue along the underside of his erection. The faint taste of his arousal rippled across her tongue and raw pleasure surged through her core. Even the painful jab of his fingers against her skull, his instinctive response to her wet touch, didn’t alarm.
“Your promise was true.” His voice rasped with barely contained lust. “This spell continues.”
Her breath escaped in a rush, leaving her lightheaded. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his cock.
“This enchantment will never end.” The words were whispered, not meant for his ears. Not meant to be uttered aloud at all. Yet the pressure of his fingers, the way he hitched in a sharp breath, told her he had heard.
She leaned in closer, one hand splayed against his hip for added balance. The glistening head of his cock enthralled her. This time she would do more than merely look, as she had before. This time…
The thought drifted through her mind, an unimportant distraction. She knew what she would do.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Antonia shifted on her knees and wished she’d taken the time to strip off her gown. She wanted to be naked before Gawain. But it was too late now.
She tried to regulate her erratic breath but it was impossible. Her fingers twitched around his organ as she carefully eased his thick length toward her.
His groan shuddered along his body. “I swear on all the gods of my forefathers, Antonia. I won’t break.”
She’d held him before. Had avidly studied this part of his body before, much to his amusement. But this time there was added tension in the heavy air. He knew, of course he must know, that today she intended to do so much more than merely look.
“I know.” Had she spoken aloud or was her whisper only inside her mind? She didn’t know. Didn’t care. Her pulses raced, heart thundered. There was no moment in time but this. And this moment would last her for all time.
She opened her mouth. And fastened her lips around the head of his erection.
His strangled moan and the way his fingers tangled her hair heightened the desire that throbbed between her thighs. The tip of her tongue skimmed across his flesh. He was so hot. An elusive saltiness, the essence of Gawain, teased her senses and instinctively her hand tightened around him.
She liked his taste. The revelation flooded her mind, along with a faint sensation of shock. Again, she slid her tongue over the head of his cock, this time lingering. Savoring.
He tasted of wild, untamed man. He tasted of her man.
His thighs tensed, enslaving her more securely. But she had no desire to move. Her nails dug into his hip as she lowered her head a little more. He slid farther inside, filling her mouth, but no terrifying urge to gag overwhelmed her.
For a moment she stilled. His hard length compressed her tongue and burned the roof of her mouth. Only her fist around his shaft prevented her lips from sliding farther along his cock.
Her pussy clenched and liquid heat trickled between her thighs. She wanted him there, stroking her clit, filling her aching cleft. But she couldn’t move. Didn’t, in truth, want to move. Because, in spite of the need thudding through her, another need hammered with insistent demand.
The need to take him, as he had so often taken her, using only her mouth.
Slowly she pulled up, her lips clinging to his rigid flesh. For a moment he resisted, his hands on her head rendering her immobile, but then the pressure eased. And only the feel of his fingers in her hair remained.
“This feels so good.” His voice was hoarse. Feminine power surged from her core, flooding her body. She sucked him deep into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with effort. His choked curse and savage grip on her hair sent thrills cascading through her.
Was it her imagination or did his hands shake?
“You’re killing me.” With obvious effort, she felt his fingers release their deadly grip. But she wanted him to grip her hair, hold her still. She wanted everything, now, that she had always feared before.
She growled in the back of her throat and slid her hand down his shaft to his root. With her other hand she cupped his heavy balls. And squeezed.
Gawain’s big body jerked at her touch. His hands clamped against her head, holding her still. Her heart hammered high in her breast, her breath came shallow and ragged. His male scent cocooned her as she knelt before him, her face buried between his thighs.
He flexed his hips and pushed his cock farther into her wet mouth. Her pussy spasmed, her fingers tightened. It was hard to breathe.
She never wanted him to stop.
He rocked into her mouth, the drag and push of his shaft over her tongue and teeth insanely arousing. Beyond the erratic thud of her heart, she could hear the harsh, uneven sound of his breathing. Could feel his balls harden with impending climax.
Could feel the possessive clamp of his hands around her head. Holding her immobile for his ruthless penetration. Immobilizing her for his oral pleasure.
A desperate moan razed her throat and shuddered around his thrusting cock. Slick heat tormented her sensitized cleft. She massaged his root, palmed his balls. How she would love to see his face when he finally spilled his seed.
With a guttural curse, he released her head. Shock spun through her. Even now he gave her the choice. She sucked hard, her fingers gripping his root with relentless, single-minded purpose. Blindly she sought his hand, her fingers reaching for him above her head.
He threaded his fingers through hers. She pulled him roughly back to her head, pressing him against her tangled hair. His cock jerked in her mouth, thrilling her. He knew what she wanted.
Once again, his hands cradled her, his fingers biting into her head. She dug her nails into his rigid thigh as he hammered into her mouth. Fast. Hard. The way she wanted it.
She felt his muscles lock beneath her. His entire body vibrated with leashed need. His roar of release thundered through the room, shattered through her mind. And then he came, violent spasms, his hot come filling her mouth.
She swallowed. And swallowed again. Goddess, it felt so good. Greedily she sucked on his pulsing cock, milking him, wanting everything he had.
“Fuck. Antonia.” His voice was uneven. He continued to thrust inside her, as if he never wanted this moment to end. “My sweet Antonia.”
His endearment wrapped around her heart. She closed her eyes and savored his taste, the feel of him in her mouth, the scent of their lovemaking in the air. She wanted to hold him like this forever.
After countless heartbeats, the unyielding grip on her head relaxed and his hands slid to her shoulders. Then he gently pushed her from his still hard erection.
But she didn’t want to let him go. Not yet.
He gave a ragged laugh at her reluctance and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. He cradled her face with his other hand, and his thumb tenderly caressed the corner of her mouth.
“You have developed new appetites, my lady.” He sounded well pleased by the notion. Before she could respond, his mouth captured hers, his tongue sliding between her parted lips.
It was a tender kiss, yet a kiss that claimed and conquered and proved that, for all time, she was his.
Only when he pulled back did she realize she’d wound her arms around his neck and plunged her fingers through his hair. She was still on her knees and she resiste
d when he tried to lift her to her feet.
“Antonia.” He breathed her name against her ear and shivers of need cascaded along her sensitized flesh. Instead of trying to pull her to her feet again, he began to tug on her gown. She rocked from knee to knee, allowing him to painstakingly drag her gown along her legs until the material no longer hampered his access.
He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, the tips of his fingers causing havoc to her senses. She squirmed helplessly. This wasn’t what she had planned, but she couldn’t resist his insistent touch.
When he cupped her sex, she ground against him, unable to stop herself. Not wanting to stop herself. Their gazes locked and she clung onto his hair and drowned in the lust and amusement and love she saw glinting in his dark eyes.
His thumb brushed her swollen clit and she bucked her hips with mindless need. He pressed against the sensitive nub. Her juices flooded her channel and she contracted around his probing fingers.
“My beautiful Roman noblewoman.” Gawain’s voice was husky and she gripped his hair, her only lifeline. “Come for me, sweet Antonia.”
“Gawain.” She didn’t recognize her voice. She sounded parched, desperate. Lust coiled between her thighs, fiery, untamed. Wild need thundered through her blood and tightened her nipples. Her pussy convulsed, back arched. But still she clung onto his hair. Still she gazed into his dark eyes. And her body and soul came for him, her only love.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gawain tightened his hold around Antonia’s shoulders as shudders rocked her body. Frantic gasps spilled from her lips and she clutched his head as though she would never let him go.
Watching her climax caused his cock to thicken once more. Her eyes were dark with passion. Her elegant ringlets were messy by his hands. And her lips were pink and swollen from having taken his cock into her mouth.
The memory caused his groin to throb with renewed lust. His Antonia would never cease to surprise him.
A smile of contentment, of masculine satisfaction, curved his lips as she finally sagged against him. Her erratic breath was warm against his chest, and her nails gouged his scalp, unmindful of whether she might be hurting him or not.
Slowly he slid his fingers from her slick folds and wrapped his arm around her waist. Her shudders became less frequent, but still gratifyingly intense. The urge to pull her down onto his bed, to keep her with him until the morning, drifted through his mind.
Soon such a fantasy would be his reality. Soon, she would never have to leave him to hurry back to her restricted Roman existence.
Soon he would have to tell her of his plans.
But not right now.
Finally her breathing eased and her fingers relaxed, releasing her claw-like grip on his head. A few moments later, her hands dropped to his shoulders and then, with clear reluctance, she lifted her face from his chest.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed. She looked like a woman who had just been thoroughly satisfied by her man.
He intended to satisfy her further before she escaped him this day.
“Come up onto the bed.” He brushed a curl back from her warm cheek. “Your knees must be sore.”
She didn’t answer him or sit by his side as he indicated. Instead she stared at him, her gaze roving over his face as though she was memorizing every feature. An odd shudder inched along his spine, although he couldn’t imagine why. There was nothing sinister in her appraisal. Yet the feeling lingered, like a malevolent shadow across his soul.
Her hands sculpted his biceps, a languorous caress. Yet inexplicably another prickle of unease skated across the back of his neck.
Instinctively his hold around her waist tightened. She let out a ragged breath and used his arms to push herself to her feet. He held onto her hands and watched her gaze travel slowly down his body until she reached his far from disinterested cock.
The feeling of unease vanished and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “There is something very wrong with this, Antonia.” He waited until her startled glance meshed with his. “You’re not naked.”
She swallowed and whatever spell had held her silent for the last few moments appeared to shatter.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was low, husky. “I shouldn’t have—I can’t stay.”
He sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet without relinquishing her hands. He looked forward to the day when they’d settled in the land of the Picts, and Antonia had no need to rush from his arms.
“You had best call Elpis, then. You look as though you’ve been thoroughly ravished.” Despite his irritation that Antonia had to leave when he wanted her to stay, he couldn’t help the grin he shot her way. She didn’t merely look ravished. She looked fucking ravishing.
Antonia glanced down at her gown and her eyes widened in clear horror. He followed her gaze and a wave of raw possessiveness gripped him.
“Carys will lend you a gown.” Lust throbbed through every word. He knew Antonia was distressed by the state of her gown, but he couldn’t share it. The dirt smearing her pale blue linen where she had knelt before him reminded him of the feel of her mouth sucking him. And the unmistakable traces of their shared passion that stained her elegant gown made him want to fuck her all over again.
She snatched her hands free and patted ineffectually at the ground-in dirt. He laughed, even though he knew he shouldn’t, and gripped her wrist.
“Let me call Elpis. She can attend to your needs while I go and find Carys.”
“No.” The word sounded strangled and Antonia jerked free from his grasp. She didn’t look at him as she continued in her vain attempt to clean her gown. “Elpis is no longer my slave. She didn’t accompany me today.”
He paused for a moment to consider that. He’d always taken it for granted that Elpis would accompany them to the land of the Picts. She might have been Antonia’s slave, but he’d seen the closeness between them. Would Elpis still come with them, now she had the choice?
He wanted Antonia to have someone with her that she trusted. It would take time for her to make new friends in a new country. Especially since, as she so often reminded him, the blood of Rome flowed through her veins.
“Then I will clean you myself.” That would be no hardship. Perhaps, for Antonia, he would bury his stubborn refusal to use Carys’ ostentatious bathhouse and they could bathe together.
Antonia gave up on her gown and straightened her shoulders. He had never seen a woman look so beautiful, regal—or desirable.
The possibility of sharing the Roman bath with her grew more enticing by the moment.
“I can’t stay, Gawain.” Her voice was low but infused with a note of finality. “I only came here today to…” She hesitated and broke eye contact to stare instead at his chest. “To say farewell.”
Filled with lascivious thoughts of what he would do to Antonia in a bath, he’d only half been paying attention to her words. But her final word slammed through his mind like a thunderclap.
“Farewell?” His voice was ominously quiet. Farewell was not a term he cared to use in association with Antonia. “Until when?”
She raised her gaze, but only as far as his nose. “We both know this liaison was only of short duration. I believe—I believe it’s time to go our separate ways.”
He heard her speech. And that’s all it was. A speech. Because the words made no sense at all.
“Is this a jest?” His voice was harsh and he took a step toward her. “I do not find it amusing.”
She stood her ground, despite how he towered over her. Then again, why would she retreat in fear? She knew, as well as he, that he would never raise a hand to her in anger.
Not that he was angry. They were obviously at cross purposes. Did she think he wished to end their affair, and this was her way of saying goodbye? But why would she think that?
He’d never given her even the slightest indication that he intended to end their liaison.
“I do not jest in such matters.” Still she stared at h
is nose. He had the savage urge to grip her shoulders and shake her until she looked him in the eyes. He fisted his hands instead. “I want to thank you for your company over the last two weeks. I’ve found it most enjoyable.”
Disbelief pounded at his temples. “Enjoyable?” It was the only word he managed to force through the constriction in his throat. She’d found the time they spent together enjoyable?
“Yes.” She inclined her head in a way that was so familiar, a sharp pain stabbed through his chest. He’d once thought her so cold and aloof, until he had discovered the passionate woman beneath. But now all he saw was her chilly, brittle façade.
It was only a façade. She didn’t mean for them to part.
“This was more than a casual dalliance, Antonia.” She wasn’t the kind of woman to embark on meaningless affairs. Why then was she trying so hard to give him that impression?
“Oh, Gawain.” She gave a brief, insincere laugh that lacerated his guts. “What else could it be?”
He gripped her shoulders. Couldn’t help himself. But he stopped short of shaking her.
“Don’t lie to me.” He glared at her but she refused to meet his eyes. “Look me in the face if you mean your words.”
For a moment, he thought she would refuse. Then she looked up at him, and the look of anguish on her face made him almost wish she hadn’t.
Her ice-blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears and her lips trembled. Gods, she had no intention of leaving him. She thought this was what he wanted. He’d tell her his plans for their future. Then there would be no doubt in her mind that he wanted her in his life.
“I’m sorry, Gawain.” There was a heartbreaking catch in her voice. “I don’t want us to part in anger. I’ll always remember you with great fondness in my heart.”
Fondness? The word was a foul curse. A woman could be fond of her horse or silk or jewelry. Not her fucking lover.
The tip of her tongue moistened lips. He couldn’t drag his gaze away. She lied. And then, with sickening certainty, the reason punched into his mind.
Tainted (The Druid Chronicles Book 4) Page 23