Forbidden

by Christina Phillips

  “Thank you.” He still sounded as if he wanted to laugh out loud. “My aching bones will appreciate the comfort you’ve provided.”

  He was laughing at her, inside his head, and she didn’t know why. Where had he expected they would have sex? “I would rather not copulate in a tree,” she said, because there was no comparison between pleasuring herself and having a huge Roman plow into her while clinging onto a branch.

  And then he did laugh out loud, but before she could be offended he wrapped her in his arms, in a hug of such bone-crushing intensity the air in her lungs evaporated.

  “It hadn’t occurred to me to copulate in a tree,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face against her hair. And then his lips were by her ear. “But perhaps one day we might try that. What do you say, my funny little wood nymph?”

  Carys wasn’t sure if she liked him calling her that. Was he mocking her?

  “I don’t know. I might fall off.” Her arms were pinned along the front of her body. All she could feel with her fingers were his massive thighs.

  She wriggled her fingers against his flesh. His muscles flexed with appreciation.

  “You wouldn’t fall.” His voice was rough. “I’d catch you, my lady. I will always catch you.”

  His words soothed her wounded pride and she softened against him. She loved when he said such things to her.

  “Take me to your bed.” He loosened his hold on her, but still kept his arms around her. And when she brought him to her makeshift bed, he knelt on the blankets, taking her with him.

  “You see?” Her voice was breathless as she wound her arms around his broad shoulders. “Much softer than the hard ground.”

  “You thought of everything.” His hands cradled her face, strong fingers holding her firm. “How many others have you captivated this way, lady?” He spoke in Latin, not expecting an answer, and yet she longed to give him one. Instead she slid her fingers over his nape, and up into his short, spiky hair.

  “But no more.” His rough words in Latin stoked fires within her soul. “Do you understand me?” His Celtic was suddenly heavily accented, as if his control had slipped. “No other men for you, lady. I’m the only one you will share your bed with, here or anywhere else.”

  “I understand.” She hoped he felt the same way afterward. But for now, she could savor his demand because it made her feel cherished and wanted and infinitely desirable.

  He muttered a curse in his own language before capturing her lips in a crushing kiss, plundering her open mouth in an invasion at once sweet and savage and overwhelmingly possessive.

  One strong hand held her still for his mouth and teeth and lips to explore, his tongue tangling with hers, sliding against the roof of her mouth and sending shock-filled tremors dancing through her heated blood.

  His other hand trailed down the side of her body, molding the shape of her ribs and her hips and sparks of raw desire ignited along every inch of sensitized flesh he touched.

  Fingers splayed between their melded bodies, hard fingers that demanded access to her most intimate secrets. She sighed into his mouth, twisting restlessly against his probing finger, and then gasped as he found her throbbing nub.

  “So wet.” He growled the words into her mouth. “Hot and wet, ready for my thrusting cock.”

  She angled herself against him, and moaned when he rewarded her by circling her engorged clit with his searching finger.

  “Tell me what you like.” His hot words scorched her lips, ignited her brain.

  “I like this,” she panted, gripping his hair and his skull with such force her muscles protested. “I like how you touch me. I like how you make me feel.”

  Even her own fingers couldn’t give her such sweet pleasure as her Roman was.

  His laugh was ragged. “Good. Now tell me what you like.”

  She moved her hips, and he responded by gently holding her sensitive clit between thumb and finger. Goddess, she would die of delight.

  “You.” It was all she could manage, all she could think beyond the thudding pleasure enslaving her body.

  He released her from the precipice of sweet agony and trailed his fingers over her wet pussy, back and forth, dipping into her hot channel before sliding out and over her pussy yet again.

  She whimpered against his mouth, felt his lips curve into a smile. His hand slipped from her face to hold her nape.

  “Lie down.” His command left no room for protest, but she didn’t want to protest. If she didn’t lie down soon, she feared she might fall. “I want to look at you.”

  He helped her lie upon the blankets, hands still firm around her nape and cupping her sex. She clung to his head, but he didn’t have enough hair to wind around her hands and drag him to her.

  Her hands slithered over his neck and onto his shoulders. His smile was predatory. Possessive.

  “I’m not going anywhere, little nymph.” He claimed her parted mouth, stroked his tongue along the inside of her lips and then broke free.

  He towered over her, bracing his weight on his hands, his dark head and white teeth filling her entire world. She dug her nails into his shoulders, in an attempt to make him cover her, claim her, make her his.

  Instead he resisted her efforts with another of his disarming smiles.

  And then, without warning, he lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she reared in shocked reaction, gasping her pleasure, raking her nails along his rigid biceps.

  Teeth grazed her, spiking her pleasure to unknowable heights, pleasure and pain, so intermingled, and yet she felt no fear, only a clawing demand to shatter this spiraling need that careered through her body like a living entity.

  His mouth abandoned her breast, and chills skittered across her wet peak, but he moved lower, jaw scraping over her belly as he looked up at her.

  She shifted restlessly. “Maximus.” She wanted him to take her now, while she felt so wet and ready. If he fucked her now, she knew she would come. How could she not?

  She needed to come, or die from want. And she wanted to come with Maximus inside her, not with the poor substitute of her own finger.

  “I’m here.” His rough growl caused her womb to clench. Goddess, couldn’t he tell how much she needed him?

  His tongue dipped into the hollow of her navel, then moved downward.

  Her fingers fluttered over his retreating head. “Maximus,” she said again, unable to keep the trepidation from her voice. She didn’t want him eating her pussy. Aeron had spent endless moments doing such things, and even now the memory distressed her.

  Hands on her hips, he finally looked up at her again. “Spread your thighs for me.”

  Despite knowing what was to happen, her pussy quivered with anticipation. Perhaps, with Maximus, the experience wouldn’t be so uncomfortable?

  She eased her thighs apart. Maximus straddled her, so she couldn’t open too wide. Perhaps he didn’t mean to do the things Aeron had at all.

  Maximus shifted so her legs were now on the outside of their embrace. And then he kneed her left thigh farther apart, exposing her to his heated gaze.

  Chapter Eight

  Carys held her breath as she gazed at Maximus kneeling between her parted thighs. He appeared transfixed, and primitive desire ricocheted through her clit, vibrated along the neck of her womb.

  Gently he traced his finger along the outer edge of her lips, but made no move to devour her with his mouth. Her hands dropped to the blanket. But she continued to watch him, fascinated by the way he openly admired her body.

  “Beautiful clitoris.” Heavy desire soaked with male satisfaction drenched his voice. “Swollen with passion.”

  Another violent quiver seared through her pussy, coiled around her painfully erect nipples.

  “Will you not take me now?” The words were uneven, barely audible, and filled with desperation.

  “Yes. I’ll take you, my lady.” Maximus spared her a brief glance. His eyes glowed almost black with lust, and Carys ached to h
old him in her arms, against her body, and shatter around him.

  He shifted his weight, kneed her right thigh open. Carys shivered with dark delight. Her neck ached from her unnatural position, but she couldn’t lie back. Couldn’t stop watching her Roman looking at her.

  He parted her folds with tender fingers, and her heart thundered in her ears; blood pounded through her arteries. She was fully exposed for his viewing pleasure, and the ardent expression on his face assured her the pleasure was intense.

  As she watched him lower his head, an incoherent sound of protest lodged in her throat. He stilled, looked up.

  “I mean only to kiss you.”

  Flash memories of Aeron slobbering like a rabid dog over fresh meat taunted her. She flicked her tongue over her lips, blinked away the image and focused on her Roman.

  On Maximus.

  “Yes.” She didn’t know whether her words meant anything to him. Would he continue if she denied him permission?

  And she realized it didn’t matter. Despite her reservations, she wanted him to taste her. To lick her. To kiss her throbbing clit.

  His dark head was between her thighs. She sucked in a suddenly panicked breath, tensing her muscles for the onslaught. And then the tip of his tongue teased her sensitive bud, damp pressure, soft yet firm, encircled her in a swirling caress, and pleasure obliterated her lingering doubts.

  His lips surrounded her; a kiss such as she had never dreamed existed. A ragged sob spilled from her, and she blindly groped for him. Touch, sweet Cerridwen, she needed to touch him, to hold him.

  And then he was there, poised over her willing body, gazing down at her with a fierce, possessive expression as if she belonged to him now and forever and he would never allow her to escape.

  He thrust into her, and her muscles clenched involuntarily as the air hissed from her lungs, her heart stuttered in shock and the blood stilled in her veins.

  Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and all she could feel was his great size invading her, stretching her, tearing her apart.

  He froze, stared at her in lust-drenched confusion. “Venus.” He sounded horrified. “You said you were no virgin, my lady.”

  She didn’t have the strength to be offended. It was all she could do to gasp a breath before blackness descended.

  “I’m not.”

  She felt him begin to ease back, and clung onto his shoulders in desperation.

  “It’s been three years since I welcomed a lover, Maximus.” She hadn’t wanted to confide that to him, but better the truth than have him think she’d never taken a man before.

  “Three years?” She could feel the tension radiating from him as he remained completely still above her.

  “Yes.” Experimentally she flexed her internal muscles around him. Already the discomfort of his sudden penetration had eased.

  He let out an agonized breath. “You’re so tight. I didn’t intend to hurt you, lady.”

  “You didn’t.” He had, but only momentarily. “Truly, I am not injured, Maximus.” But she would be, if he decided he no longer wished to continue.

  Braced on one forearm, he tenderly brushed tendrils of hair from her cheek. “Three years without any man inside you makes you almost a virgin.”

  She slid her fingers through his wonderful short hair. “But you’re inside me now.”

  Slowly he lowered his hips, and his shaft slid farther inside. Still stretching her long-unused muscles, but the sensation of being filled, of being expanded to her outermost limits, no longer caused discomfort. Only breathless wonder and a rising spiral of renewed need.

  “Gods.” The strangled word tore from his throat. “You hug my cock so tightly. I can feel every tremor from your sweet heat wrapped around me.”

  She hooked her ankles over his powerful thighs, felt him move farther inside her.

  “More,” she panted, knowing he held back but wanting everything he had to offer. She shifted, wrapped her legs around his hips and enticed him closer.

  He resisted, but strain etched his features as his fierce gaze singed her.

  “Stop.” His command was hoarse with need. “I’m at the edge, lady. Stop moving.” Sheer desperation vibrated every word.

  Primordial power whipped through Carys as she stared into her Roman’s tortured face. She could see the struggle tearing him apart, the desire for release and the need for control.

  Fingers splayed against his skull, she jerked him toward her as she tightened her grip around his hips.

  “I won’t,” she promised against his lips. His breath came in ragged gasps against her cheek. Thrilling her to new heights.

  “You’re not ready.” But his body surrendered to her demands and his cock surged into her, nudging the entrance to her womb, his heavy balls slamming against her stretched, sensitized flesh.

  She reared upward, barely aware of her reaction, knowing only that she had to be closer, inseparable, melded with this tough Roman warrior.

  “Fuck me, Maximus.” She clawed his shoulders, his biceps. “Take me. Make me come.”

  He braced his weight on both hands and she took advantage to slide her arms around his back. Gripped his buttocks. Pulled him ever farther into her hot, willing body.

  His groan of impending defeat set her senses ablaze, and when he rocked into her, the base of his cock ground against her clit, stoking the blaze to an inferno.

  He pulled almost out of her body, then rammed her so hard shooting stars exploded through her mind. The friction between her thighs radiated throughout her core, her heart, her lungs, and spiraled through her aching breasts and taut nipples.

  For one sparkling moment of eternity she hovered on the precipice, and then she tumbled into the void, spinning out of control, sensation cascading along every nerve she possessed, and she could feel Maximus’s cock impaling her as her slick heat convulsed around him.

  “Fuck me, sweet Celt.” His voice, raw, demanding, shattered her mind. “I’m coming inside you. Fill you with my hot seed.” And he thrust into her, hard, powerful, and his roar of release filled her senses as his maleness filled her womb.

  Chapter Nine

  Maximus pounded into his wood nymph’s tight channel, giving her every last drop of essence, draining him dry, wringing his soul with the fury of his possession.

  His roar of satisfaction echoed in his ears, vibrated through his brain and trembled along every sated nerve.

  Control long since vanished, he collapsed onto her welcoming body, so soft, so hot. Burning still, with slaked desire. Enclosing him in a scented mist of raw sex and unbridled passion.

  Through the fire that still licked through his brain, he became aware of her smallness. Her fragileness. Against his desire he heaved himself onto his elbow and studied her delicate face.

  Gods, she was so beautiful in the ethereal light that bathed them both. As desirable as a nymph of the goddess of love herself.

  His cock, still buried in her tight, wet tunnel, stirred. Venus, he wanted her again already.

  Her eyelashes fluttered open, and although he couldn’t see the colors of her eyes, their beauty still awed him.

  “I came.” Her voice was hushed, as if the fact astounded her.

  He laughed softly and wound a damp lock of her hair around his finger.

  “I came too,” he said. “A most satisfactory outcome for us both, I believe.”

  She pressed her hand against his heart. He liked the way she touched him, the way she looked at him as she touched him, as if it gave her great pleasure.

  “We truly did come together.” Her whispered words, in genuine wonder, aroused him further. “It was even more magical than I had dreamed.”

  He stilled playing with her hair. “Was this your first time?” To be sure, it was rare he came at the moment of his partner’s release. Usually he ensured they came first. But with his golden Celt his control had shattered.

  Thank the gods he had still satisfied her. She deserved nothing less after the immense pleasure she’
d given him.

  “Yes.” Still, the wonderment laced her voice. He smiled down at her, pleased she hadn’t shared mutual orgasm with any other man.

  Her hand rubbed over his chest, as if she couldn’t help herself. As if his hair held an impossible attraction for her.

  “It is different, coming with a man inside.” She looked up at him, wide-eyed with newly discovered knowledge.

  He frowned slightly, unsure as to her meaning. “Different?” He shifted his hips, and his cock showed its appreciation by swelling further, pushing against her tender flesh.

  “Yes.” She seemed to think that answer enough, but before he could demand she explain further, she clenched her internal muscles around him, wiping his question from his mind.

  “Gods.” His voice was ragged. “You have the touch of Venus, my lady.”

  Her hand reached up. Instinctively knowing what she wanted, he lowered his head, so she could gently stroke his hair. Odd how so simple a gesture could be so arousing, when performed by his Celt.

  “Your goddess of love.” It wasn’t a question. She trailed her fingers along his jaw, and he saw her lips curve into a strangely shy smile. Something tugged deep in his gut, painful, almost sexual and yet not.

  “The Morrigan never blessed me so before.”

  The name was vaguely familiar. A heathen three-headed goddess the Celts worshipped. Certainly incomparable to his divine Venus.

  He would never insult his wood nymph by telling her so.

  “Tonight both our goddesses blessed us.” And he was ready, more than ready, to be blessed again. He slid his arm around her waist and swiftly reversed their positions, and grinned at the startled expression on her face.

  “Oh.” Her voice was faint as she stared down at him, and her glorious hair tumbled over her shoulders, enclosing them in a scented river of gold.

  He cupped her hips, holding her still. Poised above him she looked like a goddess from Olympus, enjoying the charms of her mere mortal lover.

  “Take me deep inside you, lady.” Still holding her hips, it would be too easy to force her down the length of his shaft, but he waited agonizing moments, wanting, needing her to be the one to make the first move.