The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome)

by Jennifer D. Bokal

  Valens’s fingers worked the knot free, and the belt slipped to the floor.

  Valens held her chin in both his hands. The look of liquid desire in his eyes left her weak in the knees. When he placed his mouth on hers, hungrily now, the kiss possessive, her legs failed to hold her. He held Phaedra tight and pressed her to him. Her softness formed to the rigid angles and planes of his body. She lowered her arms, running her fingers through the silk of his hair.

  With him guiding, she walked to the bed. The back of her legs met with the mattress. Once again, he lifted her arms. This time, he pulled her gown over her head. With little trouble he untied the linen strips that held her breasts in place. She stood naked before him. The vulnerability of it all came upon her, and she crossed one arm over her breasts and the other over the juncture of her thighs. Valens placed her wrists at her side. He held up one finger, walked across the room, and brought back a single candle that he placed on a small table near her bed. Light spilled over her, chasing away the shadows that kept her hidden.

  “You are beautiful. More than beautiful—you are exquisite. I have long desired you, Phaedra, and I want to see your body and face while we make love,” he said.

  Her mouth went dry. She wanted to say something, needed to tell him. Yet, tell him what? Words no longer held meaning. She nodded.

  His mouth trailed across her skin. He kissed her everywhere—and, it seemed, all at once—from her shoulder to her breasts, her stomach to her fingers. She could not think or reason, only feel. Holding on to his shoulders, she reveled in being touched, kissed, and tasted.

  Slipping a hand between her legs, he found her most tender spot, already swollen with desire. He rubbed in a small circle, and a keener hunger awakened. Whimpering, she pressed into his hand. He laid her on the bed.

  One of his hands still worked between her legs as the other hand spread her knees. He knelt on the floor and lifted both of her legs on either shoulder. “Come closer,” he said.

  Phaedra almost fainted with longing. Many times, too many times, she had tended to Marcus with her mouth. Each time she wondered if men did as much to women. She assumed they could, and yet Marcus never did. Phaedra eased down to the end of the bed, and Valens’s breath cooled her inner heat.

  He kissed her sex in much the same manner he had her mouth. First tenderly, then he spread her folds and explored her. As she panted and neared a climax, he kissed her in a manner meant to claim, with such passion that Phaedra felt herself slipping into the sweet oblivion of release.

  Valens ran his tongue up her sweat-coated stomach and rolled her hardened nipples between his fingers. He held himself over her. His eyes—how often had she seen his eyes in her dreams? Or his lips. How many times had Phaedra thought of kissing his lips, never thinking that one day she might?

  Situating himself between her legs, Valens spread her open with the wide head of his phallus. The first stroke was tentative; the second used more force. On the third thrust he entered her all the way and she cried out. She wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him closer, wanting him in deeper. She began to climax again, and Phaedra could no longer lie to herself. As unlikely as it seemed, her attraction was more than merely physical. In one evening, under a sky filled with thousands and thousands of stars, Phaedra had fallen in love with Valens Secundus. If all she had with him was this night, Phaedra vowed to make it one worth remembering. Her muscles deep inside clenched as Valens moved back and forth. As her climax reached its peak, she gave voice to her emotions. “I love you.”

  Chapter 26

  Valens

  Phaedra’s juices remained on his tongue and lips. No matter if he lived a few days more or until he was an aged man, for the rest of his life Valens would always equate the taste of Phaedra to that of the perfect female. He plunged inside of her, harder. He went deeper and deeper and yet never deep enough. He wanted to possess Phaedra, to make her his. He wanted to hear her call out his name as she climaxed and know that he alone brought her rapture. He wanted more of her beyond this night.

  Valens had spent years thinking of Phaedra, wondering about her, hoping that the Fates would again bring them together. In his mind he had made love to her several times over, although the fantasy had never compared to the exquisite bliss of reality. In all the times he thought of her, never once did Valens imagine that she would tell him that she loved him. Valens thrilled at the idea.

  Another thought came to Valens, a horrible thought. What if Phaedra, like Valens many times before, was physically bedding one person while mentally making love to someone else? He thrust once, hard.

  Arching her back, she gasped. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Collecting first one wrist and then the other, he held them over her head and balanced on his elbow.

  “Tell me,” he said with his nose nuzzled into her hair. “Who do you love?”

  She stiffened under him and stopped moving. “Apologies,” she said. “I had not meant to speak aloud and offend you.”

  Damn. He hated the patricians. Valens’s hips slowed. Well, it was not the first time a noblewoman had bedded him. If he survived the three fights, it would not be his last. Yet Valens hated the thought of Phaedra not being with him fully. He wondered who had earned her love. Her dead husband? Or—the gods forgive him—that bastard Acestes? Phaedra struggled against being pinned to the bed, and he released her wrists.

  She held his face in both hands and placed her lips on his. “I cannot make sense of it, either,” she said. “We met twice before today. I understand if you do not feel the same.” She stroked her thumb over his chin before letting go of his face. “I am not sure that I understand myself.”

  The urge to cry came upon Valens with such suddenness that he could not stop the first tear. It landed on her cheek and trailed into her hair. He began to move again and kissed her deeply, wanting to be deeper inside of Phaedra.

  “I love you, too,” he said.

  He wanted to make her climax a third time and maybe a fourth, but the raw ardor he felt for Phaedra left him breathless. Stopping the ocean’s tide would take less effort than staying his passion. His cock throbbed and Valens growled with satisfaction as his seed spilled inside Phaedra.

  He collapsed on top of her, spent, sure that he had never ejaculated so hard before. His pulse throbbed throughout his body, echoing his pleasure. He wanted to say something affectionate and soothing. He needed to assure her that his declaration of love had not been brought on by his impending orgasm. “I learned to read and write because of you,” he said. He sighed, unhappy with his horrible excuse for romantic pillow talk.

  She stroked the side of his face from brow to chin. “That pleases me. You won your freedom and have become your own man, Valens Secundus. I knew you would.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep. They had taken their pleasure, and now he longed to show her tenderness and caring. He knew of no better way than to kiss her eyelids.

  “What of you?” he asked. “Did your father agree to your bargain for a husband of your own choosing?”

  “He did,” she said.

  Valens rolled off her and lay on his back. She curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Lying together, their arms and legs tangled, felt simple and pure and right. He imagined them years from now like this, assuming he survived the fights. True, they could never marry. Valens was not a patrician, or even a member of the equestrian class, the wealthy of Rome who had not been born aristocratic. He had enough coin to qualify for the honor. Yet he did not have any serious supporters in the Senate who would vote for him when the time came. Even if he overcame all those odds, he still lacked a father, and therefore a clan, an essential piece of becoming an equestrian.

  All that mattered little. If Phaedra were free of marital ties, they could be together like this always. Many patrician women kept long-term lovers, and both were accepted as a couple in society. True, any offspring would be considered illegitimate. True, Valens wanted more for Phaedra than to be his mistre
ss. None of that could be helped. All that mattered was that they had found each other again.

  Phaedra snuggled more deeply into Valens’s arms and let out a sigh that reminded him of a contented cat. He kissed the top of her head, satisfied to hold her as they slept.

  “He did agree,” she said, her voice hoarse and slow. “Pity that he is not keeping his bargain.”

  Valens became alert. “What do you mean?”

  Phaedra rolled over and placed her chin on Valens’s chest. From his vantage point, he saw down her back to her perfectly round bottom. His cock stirred.

  “I married to save my father from being removed from the Senate due to his lack of funds. Even though Marcus gave Father enough coin to last several lifetimes, it is all gone. Again I need to make a profitable marriage.”

  “But your father has not chosen a husband for you yet.”

  Phaedra’s lips blazed a trail across his chest. She rolled her tongue around one nipple while brushing his other nipple with her fingers. His cock lengthened and he rubbed it against the soft curve of her hip.

  She placed one final kiss on his collarbone. “I think he has picked out a husband for me. Someone asked to marry me.”

  “Has he accepted?” Valens asked. “Have you accepted?”

  She shook her head and her hair spilled onto his chest. “Not yet. I have one week to find someone I might like better. That is as much of our bargain as Father’s willing to keep.” She pushed up on her elbows and kissed his lips. He did not kiss her back. “I know that one week is not a very long time, but I would meet you here every night if you are willing.”

  He was and he was not. “I would love to,” he said. “But I cannot.”

  “You cannot? What is so important? I thought you said . . .” She sat up and combed her hair with her fingers. “I have thought of you often, Valens Secundus. I enjoyed this night. I can see it did not mean the same to you. You may go.”

  He had wounded her, he knew. That was why he took no offense at being dismissed. Valens ran his fingers over her cool silk sheets and waited for her to acknowledge him. She turned to look and he patted the mattress beside him. “Come to me.” She looked away for a moment, and then with an exasperated sigh lay down beside him. She did not rest her head on his chest, but rather leaned her back on his side. He rolled over so his contours fit hers and his hard cock rested in the cleft of her buttocks.

  “My life is complicated right now,” he said.

  “Everyone has complications.”

  She had a point. He kissed her shoulder. “Make love to me again.”

  She flipped her hair so it landed across his face. He wrapped the tendrils in his fist and held them up. He placed a kiss at the nape of her neck before smoothing her hair over her shoulder.

  “I wish we could be together for the rest of our lives, but we cannot. I cannot marry you, nor can I share you with another man,” he said.

  “My father will not accept the proposal for another week, so now I belong to no one.”

  “It will be difficult enough to leave your bed today. A week from now, it will be impossible.” He should tell her about returning to the ludus, his sister’s thievery, all of it. But pride forbade him from speaking. He could not bear the thought of Phaedra seeing him as anything less than a man worthy of her love. “Make love to me again.”

  She pressed her round, firm buttocks onto his aching cock. “Just once more and that will be it between us.”

  “I wish it were different and we could be together always.”

  She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. “So do I.”

  Valens knelt behind Phaedra while she knelt in front of him. He entered her from behind. He wanted to watch as she closed her eyes, her mouth grew moist, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Yet Valens knew if he could see her, then Phaedra could see him . . . and the unmistakable regret etched in every line of his face.

  Chapter 27

  Phaedra

  Phaedra woke alone in her bed. Valens stood at the door and faced the garden. He had not bothered to don his tunic, and the moonlight bathed his well-formed body, making it look as if he were cast in silver. She had not spoken a word, or even moved. Yet Valens somehow sensed she had woken.

  “Every night for the past four years I have looked into the sky and found Polaris. It brought you to me,” he said. “For so many reasons, I hate to leave you, and yet I must. This cannot be our life. We cannot live upon clandestine meetings, nor will we ever be together legally.”

  True, making a life together would be hard. She was willing to risk much to be with him, and yet he was not willing to do the same. She said nothing, knowing it was best for them both to let him slip away. The candles had burned out long before, and he rummaged in the dark for his tunic and sandals. Once dressed, he leaned over and kissed her. Not passionately or hungrily as before, but slowly, tenderly, as if he were trying to memorize this very moment. Or perhaps that was what she wished were behind his actions.

  “Terenita will show you out of the house,” she said. As she spoke, her maid emerged from a room nearby.

  Valens stroked the side of her face. She pressed her cheek into his hand. The words Stay, please, were on her lips. Yet she did not voice them. Instead she said, “Wherever I go, you will always be with me.”

  “And you with me.”

  He followed Terenita from the room. Phaedra lay in the darkness and the silence. Her eyes burned. Her chest felt tight. Yet she did not sob, or even shed a quiet tear. She had no word for what she felt now. A part of her had vanished with Valens, leaving her an unfinished person.

  Chapter 28

  Valens

  Dazed, Valens walked down the empty streets. He avoided the crowded parks and squares where men and women gathered for a late night’s entertainment. The voices of the actors and singers carried above the sounds of conversation and laugher. He wondered how anyone anywhere might feel happiness, not to mention joy. Even if he survived the three fights, what would there be for him to live for?

  As a gladiator he had never considered taking a wife and making a family, even after Paullus gave his permission. No child should grow up with the blood and gore found in the arena, or so he told himself. Once Valens had won his freedom, his excuse had changed—Antonice needed his undivided attention, although in that, he had failed, too.

  All the while Valens knew the real reason he had never taken a wife. Phaedra. She had become the beacon, and the rest of the women he met were the rocky coast.

  Yet they could share nothing else beyond tonight. Death in the arena, sword in hand, with the cheers of the crowd, seemed a sweet release. His feet carried him to his neighborhood. He rounded the corner and his villa came into sight. He was reminded immediately that he did have something else. He had Antonice. He could not give up, because if he did, then she would die.

  A slave opened his front door.

  “Can I bring you wine or food, dominus?” the slave asked.

  In a few short hours, Valens would no longer be the master. Even though he would not be a slave, he needed to become accustomed to taking care of his own needs again. “Thank you, no,” he said, and then he dismissed the slave for the night.

  Alone in the atrium, Valens knelt by the pool. Cupping his hand, he brought water to his lips and drank. He rubbed the back of his neck with a wet palm. He should sleep. The dawn drew near and the day would be more tolerable with some rest.

  He went to his room and lay down on the bed, once comfortable, now too cold and too big. He should not have left Phaedra.

  Staring into the darkness, he saw nothing. He dared not close his eyes, for when he did the faces of gladiators defeated long ago floated before him. Did they beckon him to Elysium? Had their fate really been meant for him? Intermixed with the visions and worries, he thought of Phaedra. Always Phaedra.

  Knowing that sleep would continue to elude him, Valens rose. He found his canvas sack packed with a few tunics and a jar of bathing oil. Without benef
it of taper or torch, he felt his way through the darkened corridors and found Antonice’s room.

  She lay with the blankets pulled up around her head, so nothing more than her nose showed. He sat on her bed. She shifted, whimpering in her sleep. What nightmares came to Antonice?

  He shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes and gasped. “Valens?”

  “I did not mean to frighten you.”

  Antonice pulled the blankets tighter overhead. “I am fine.”

  “I have come to say good-bye.”

  “Why? Where are you sending me?”

  Valens patted the top of her head. “Nowhere now. I am the one to leave. I am returning to the arena. Just a little more than a week and I will be back. Leto will care for you, although I have told her you are not to leave the villa at all.”

  Antonice sat up and the blanket fell to her shoulders. “Do not leave me,” she said. “I promise to be good.”

  “I know you will.” Earlier he had decided not to tell his sister why he was returning to the ludus and his fights. What good would come from upsetting her and making her feel responsible? But then he never would have guessed that Antonice might view his leaving as abandonment. Besides, word would spread, and Valens could not protect Antonice from gossip. “Damian taking money is serious business,” he said. “Thievery is a capital offense.”

  “I took nothing,” she said. “Besides, he said it was stolen already.”

  “No charges were brought against the quartermaster. You, on the other hand—” His words pained him, and Valens could say no more. He breathed deeply and tucked his emotions away. “Charges were brought against you and Damian. Damian’s father arranged for him to serve with the legions in Germania.”

  “And me?” Tears clung to her lashes.

  He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. Instead of returning his embrace, she folded her arms tighter across his chest. “I will keep you safe,” he said.