Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 01] (28 page)

He ushered her into the dwelling and, despite herself, she couldn’t help admiring the luxurious interior with its polished slab flooring, so different from the home where she had grown up. Did all Romans live in such style?

“Maximus.” A male voice jerked her from her reverie, and she glanced up to see a dark-haired middle-aged man dismiss a slave with a flick of his hand before turning back to them.

“Sir.” Maximus’s fingers tightened around her shoulder, as if he half expected her to flee. Or perhaps he was more concerned she might attack?

She pulled the linen aside and lifted her head, forcing eye contact with this Roman barbarian, and satisfaction stabbed through her as shock rippled over his features.

“My name is Carys of Cymru.” Her Latin was perfect. She’d been taught it from a babe, one of the few requests of her absent father who’d traveled through Gaul as a youth and foresaw the power of articulating the encroaching enemy’s language.

The Legatus’s eyes gleamed with appreciation, and before she realized his intention, he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Carys of Cymru.” His lips brushed her knuckles before he relinquished his hold. “I welcome you into my home.” He continued to look at her, but spoke to Maximus. “Everything is prepared. You won’t be disturbed.”

Maximus wound his arm around her waist as he led her farther into the house. She didn’t want to admire the Roman architecture, but the galling truth was that this home of the conquering Legatus, a home that, less than a year ago, hadn’t even existed, far surpassed her own now-abandoned dwelling that had been in her family for generations.

They entered a small courtyard where a single building stood, with a slave who opened the door at their approach.

Carys stiffened and fumbled for her linen that draped over her shoulders.

“There’s no need to fear,” Maximus whispered against her ear. “All the slaves are from Rome. Your secret remains safe in this house.”

She heard the edge of mockery in his voice but decided to ignore it. “I trust you’re right.” Because if word escaped that she was a willing guest in the home of the Commander of the Legion, the repercussions would be horrific.

“I’m always right.” His breath tickled her ear as he ushered her through the door.

She stumbled over her feet and stared at the vision, speechless with awe. Her tutor had told her of such luxuries, but secretly she always assumed he exaggerated. But he hadn’t. A room, so large she could scarcely comprehend, spread before her with countless lamps flickering and smooth columns soaring to the ceiling.

And taking up a vast expanse of the multicolored, tiny-tiled floor, was a sunken, water-filled
lake
.

Maximus eased her farther into the bathhouse and shot her a glance. The look of disbelief on her face was priceless.

“Nothing to say?” He hid his amusement, immensely satisfied his surprise appeared to enthrall her.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Her voice was hushed, as if she spoke in the presence of the gods.

He cast a cursory glance at the bath, and tried to see it through her eyes. “You should see the public baths in Rome. Now, they are truly magnificent.”

“
This
is magnificent.” She shot him a scandalized look. “And it grieves me greatly to admit that.”

He grinned and unwound the linen from her shoulders before handing it to one of the attending female slaves. “This is but a small private bath. Barely large enough to satisfy the Legatus’s family.” Its construction had been a priority for the comfort of the Commander’s wife and daughters, but its minuscule scale and lack of marble was, he knew, an irritant to the patrician ladies. “But more than adequate for our needs tonight.”

She angled her head and appeared to be studying the mosaics adorning the floor. “It’s very pretty.” She sounded as if the confession pained her.

He gripped her shoulders, pulled her toward him. “Don’t analyze it, Carys. Just enjoy it. Tonight, this is for us.”

“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows in mock astonishment. “Do you mean to ravish me, Roman?”

“Only if you behave yourself.”

“Alas. I never behave myself. I thought you knew that by now.”

He laughed. Much as he enjoyed fucking Carys, he enjoyed her conversation almost as well.

Except when she contradicted him.
Naturally
.

He untied her bodice, never breaking eye contact. Gods, her eyes bewitched him. They would bewitch any man.

But no man would dare touch her. Not now.

Without turning from her, he spoke to the slaves. “Leave us.” He had no need of slaves tonight. Not when he wanted to administer to Carys’s every need himself.

He pulled back from her welcoming body, but long enough only to tear the constricting clothes from his own. He watched her rake her gaze over his chest, before fixing it upon his groin.

He stifled a groan and clasped her outstretched hand before she managed to rip all control from him. “Later.” The word rasped against his throat. “First, we bathe.”

“We could bathe afterward.”

“For once,” he said, as he led her to the steps descending into the bath, “obey your master without question.”

The teasing smile on her face vaporized as her toe hit the water. “It’s hot.” She sounded aghast, as if she’d never before experienced such a thing.

He knew she hadn’t. And yet her Latin was so perfect, her beauty so refined, it was hard to remember she was a primitive Celt and not a Roman noblewoman.

“You’ll enjoy it.” He took her free hand and urged her toward him. Gingerly she took another step, and the water lapped over her ankles.

“I’m enjoying it already.” She continued toward him, and, as the water enclosed her, her face radiated sublime pleasure. “I’ve never copulated in water before. Have you?”

The curve of her succulent rear filled his hands, although he had no recollection of sliding his arms around her.

“Not recently.” Not since he’d been thoroughly seduced in his family’s bathhouse at the age of fourteen by a beautiful slave girl of his mother’s.

“Oh.” A frown flicked over her features as if the thought displeased her. He squeezed her tempting globes, simultaneously forcing her pussy to rub against his rigid shaft. Her frown vanished. “Then at least I know such a feat is possible.”

“It’s possible.”

“I want to make love with you in every possible way.”

A heat, which had nothing to do with the steaming bath, pulsed through his blood, stiffening his engorged cock to an impossible degree.

“That can be arranged.” He cradled her bottom, caressed her smooth, wet skin, and attempted to recall what he wanted to do with Carys.

Her fingers stroked his neck, speared through his hair, and her stiff nipples rubbed and jerked against his chest with every tantalizing move she made. And then her lips found his, so sweet and right, and her tongue demanded his surrender and he acquiesced to her invasion as she probed, explored and sought to conquer.

He thrust back, sliding along the length of her tongue, penetrated her mouth, felt her moan vibrate through his brain, and his hands roamed over her back, her shoulders, before once again gripping her delectable bottom.

Her fingers dug into his scalp, an erotic agony, and then she powered into him, knocking him off balance, sending his arse sliding onto the step of the bath.

Winded, he attempted to regain his footing and his dignity but Carys’s hold around his head tightened, and with a hop she wrapped her legs around his hips, bracing her feet against the step.

Gods, she was seducing him. Sharp arrows of fire ignited his groin, hardened his balls, and a primitive growl seared his throat as her hot slit teased his engorged head.

“Is this good for you?” Her panted question made no sense. He grunted in response, jerking his hips in an effort to slide into her welcoming heat.

Her thigh muscles flexed, and she evaded his tactical maneuver.

“Do you like the feel of me on you?” she persisted, and he stared at her through a haze of red-tinged lust, incomprehension pounding with every thud of his heart.

“Yes,” he snarled, since she clearly required an answer. “Do you like the feel of me?” He neither expected nor required a response. All he needed glittered in her passion-filled eyes.

“I love the feel of you.” As added torture, she ground her hips, sweeping her pussy across his straining shaft. “Your cock fills me, in a way I had never before imagined.”

He gripped her bottom, a warning that he was on the edge. “Then let me fill you again, Carys, to remind you how much you need my cock inside you.”

With a ragged gasp she plunged onto his shaft, so sudden, so exquisite, his sanity shattered.

“So big.” Her hands slid down his neck, and her fingernails gouged his flesh. “All I can feel is you.”

And all he could feel was her tight channel clasping him, sucking him into a haven of pure sensation.

Her thighs flexed as she raised her hips, bracing her weight against the step upon which he sat, fucking him as if she were a water nymph and he her captured mortal.

He leaned back against the side of the bath, soaking in the sight of her straddling him, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts tantalizingly close to his mouth as she plunged along the length of his shaft.

“Tiberius,” she panted, as she sank onto him, taking his entire length into her body. An involuntary groan shuddered along his throat.

“Valerius.” She retreated, until only the tip of his throbbing head remained clasped inside her wet cleft.

“Maximus.” She thrust down violently and flung back her head, lips parted, eyelids fluttering, as her glorious pussy clenched around him in endless waves of infinite delirium.

He gripped her hips, plowed into her, his cock pulsating with primeval intent, lightning coursing through his arteries, blood pounding against his temples. Rome receded, the Empire crumbled, but none of it mattered because all that mattered was that Carys was here, safe with him, and fucking him as he had never been fucked before.

His frenzied thrusts claimed her, branded her, and finally filled her with his scorching seed. One hand tangled in her hair, grasped her head, forced her to him so he could taste her lips, savor her tongue, devour her sweet cries of passion.

Eternity shimmered in the heated air, nebulous and fragile. The lingering scent of lust filtered into his sated limbs, cocooned his drifting mind.

Carys
.

Arms wrapped around her, he held her securely against his body, her soft breasts crushed against his chest, her heartbeat thundering in tandem with his own.

She belonged to him, and nothing but the gods could take her from him.

Carys lifted her head from his shoulder. “How did I compare?” Her voice was breathless, her eyes still glazed.

He brushed her wet hair from her face. When he regained his strength, he would unbraid her hair, allow it to float free in the water. “Compare?” The word was idle. He had no idea what she was talking about, and didn’t much care.

“With the other times you’ve made love in water.”

A satisfied smile curved his lips. “Favorably.” In truth, there was no comparison, but he had no intention of confessing that to her.

“Only favorably?”

He sighed indulgently. “You don’t need me to tell you how good you are.” And then his indulgence evaporated as comprehension surfaced. “Your technique was such that I find it hard to believe this was your first time in a bath.”

Instead of rushing to reassure him of the fact, a slow smile lit her face and caused her eyes to sparkle. A scowl crawled across his features at her unwarranted response.

“I’m gratified you thought so.”