Centurion's Honor (Imperial Desires, Book One) (3 page)

Cassius glimpsed the determination in Titus’ eyes just before he claimed his lips, but he had neither the will nor the inclination to protest.

Anan would never have them, no matter their desires, no matter hers. To quarrel with Titus over this was futile because it was simply unnecessary.

And he did not wish to fight with Titus, not with these scarce, stolen moments between them. It had been so long since they’d been alone like this and blood pounded through his veins, pulsed through him until he thought he would burst. No, he did not wish to quarrel with Titus when it had been so long since they’d held each other intimately, so long since they’d assuaged their desires.

Cassius’ hand found its way to the back of Titus’ head as he traced a pathway down the length of his torso with his lips. Cassius closed his eyes, the groan lodging in his throat as fire roared in his belly. Pleasure raked through him when Titus’ lips found his shaft, taking it deep inside the wet warmth of his mouth.

Cassius called his name as he arched into Titus, the wet slide of his lover’s lips up and down his cock caused a spike of heat to arrow along his spine. His body had been long neglected and already Cassius could feel the heavy sac between his legs drawing tight against his body, and a tingling thrummed along the base of his spine.

“Titus,” he groaned, his hand fisting in Titus’ hair, taking over the rhythm. He pumped his hips off the ground at the same time he nudged Titus’ face against his groin, tunneling his cock to the back of his throat.

“I’m about to spurt,” Cassius breathed out as he gave one last thrust of his hips. Titus swallowed him deeper at the same time Cassius erupted on a long, ragged groan. He poured his seed into his lover’s mouth and Titus worked his lips, his throat, drinking every drop of his release until he was spent and panting.

While Cassius fought to regain his breath, Titus trailed his lips along the length of Cassius’ body until he hovered above him. Titus pressed his lips to Cassius’ in a gentle kiss that deepened as Cassius tongued him deep, tasting his essence on Titus’ lips.

He did not realize Titus had reached behind him to grab the jar of olive oil which he’d just smoothed all over his body until Titus pulled away. Cassius watched Titus dip his fingers into the oil and with quick strokes he spread it all over his thick, hard shaft.

Titus’ green eyes glowed with lust, with desire, as he set the jar aside and grasped Cassius’ legs, spreading him wide.

Cassius hovered there on the edge of need and fulfillment as Titus held his gaze for a long moment before he pushed inside Cassius’ body in one deep thrust that ignited his pleasure even as he experienced a moment’s pain.

“I am sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Cassius reached up to smooth the frown from Titus’ brow as he smiled. “It is fine. It seems we are both eager.”

Titus returned his grin as he lowered his head to crush his lips to Cassius’.

Titus moved then, his large, powerful body surging into Cassius’ tunnel, stretching him, claiming him at the same time Titus’ tongue foraged deep into his mouth.

His thrusts came hard and fast as he pumped his cock inside Cassius, brushing against that place that could give a man unending pleasure. His own cock sprung to life yet again, and he fisted it in his hand, to the rhythm of Titus’ brutal thrusts.

His ass began to burn as Titus slammed into him, but he ignored the pain, instead savoring the pleasure already weaving its way through his body.

The scent of lust and sweat clung to the air, perfuming the room as their bodies came together, moving in unison, seeking mutual pleasure, mutual fulfillment.

“I’m about to come,” Titus gritted out, his hands clutching at the back of Cassius’ thighs. Titus pounded his ass harder, his sac slapping against Cassius’ flesh, the sounds of their grunts and groans mingling together to echo off the walls.

“I’m about to come,” Titus cried out again, his voice hoarse and ragged. Cassius realized then that Titus was waiting for him to find release again, but was losing his grip upon the last vestiges of his control.

Cassius lifted his hips off the pallet, sending Titus surging deep, the deepest he’d been since he’d entered him.

“Come for me, Titus,” Cassius groaned. “Come for me now.” Cassius clenched his muscles around his lover’s thrusting cock, taking him deep and holding him there.

A lewd curse was ripped from Titus’ lips at the same time he shuddered violently and buried his shaft inside Cassius one last time. Cassius held Titus to him as the warmth of his seed blasted the walls of Cassius’ anus, and a groan escaped him as he pumped his ruddy flesh harder until he came with a slight tremor, his seed spurting between them in thick ropes.

Titus collapsed atop him and buried his face in the crook of Cassius’ neck, his warm breath sliding across sweat-soaked flesh. Cassius held him, his hands roaming across the other man’s back until their breaths finally returned.

“We need to bathe and dress quickly if we wish to be ready before guests arrive,” Cassius told Titus as soon as he rolled off him.

Titus nodded and crawled to his feet, then turned to help Cassius up as well. A small thud drew their attention, the sound was muffled and they glanced at each other curiously before turning their gazes toward the doorway.

Cassius frowned. It was empty. He looked at Titus again who simply shrugged.

The doorway was empty now, but he would swear upon his life someone had stood there only moments ago.

Chapter Three

That evening at the festival of Maikatat, Cassius stood with Titus beside him, his bronze helmet and breastplate reflecting the golden light of the fires burning from the oil lamps. His crimson tunic, which fell to his knees, clung to his body, the balmy air dampening his skin with perspiration.

He ignored the discomfort as he stood behind Anan’s chair, his gaze sweeping out across the room. Several couches lined the walls of the
triclinium
where guests draped in fine spun togas, shimmering jewels and golden adornments reclined. They wore the garments of Roman patricians, though their faces were of this foreign land.

The guests dined amiably as they gazed upon the young women who danced for their entertainment, whom Cassius recognized as harem girls from the far eastern province of Dahomey.

The young women danced a particularly intricate design, their hips swaying to the pulsing, pounding rhythm of the drums as their burnished sienna and mahogany skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, the coiled locks of their unbound hair clinging to their waists.

Cassius appreciated the spectacle before him as tame in comparison to the festivities that would have accompanied such a feast in the heart of Rome.

Drunken orgies.

A display of naked flesh.

The heavy musk of arousal and desire perfuming the air.

And yet, despite the mildness of the entertainment, desire pounded inside Cassius, heating his flesh, causing his manhood to push against his leather
braca
. He swallowed a groan, his hands fisting at his sides. He longed to lose himself within the bodies of one of the dancers if only to distract himself—or inside the body of his lover again, if only to assuage his mounting needs. He glanced at Titus.

Anan stood then and approached the circle of dancers in the center of the room, and for the hundredth time that night Cassius imagined losing himself in the body of the woman before him—the sole object of his unfettered lusts.

He shook his head, desperately trying to rid himself of such errant thoughts. He’d found release only hours ago. That should have been enough to chase away his desire for this one woman, who’d apparently bewitched him.

He’d been sent there to discern whether or not she still remained loyal to Rome. It would not do to nurture an attraction toward her, even if she was quite beautiful, even if he did find himself attracted to her. He could ill afford such a distraction, no matter how lovely or enticing she was.

And as she stood in the center of the room, joining the girls in their dance, Cassius decided she was truly lovely indeed.

She’d ignored Cassius and Titus for most of the night, throughout the entire festival.

That did not surprise him.

Whether Roman or barbarian, she was well within her right to ignore common soldiers.

Cassius was accustomed to such treatment—such was the way of Rome’s hierarchy.

So he was surprised when she looked up and imprisoned him within her golden gaze, her body still writhing to the rhythm of the beat.

Her eyes widened, her lips parted and he realized then she’d seen something in his own eyes, glimpsed something within their depths that had shocked her, surprised her. When she looked away, he acknowledged it must have embarrassed her as well.

His jaw clenched tight as his cheeks suffused with heat. He’d been without a woman too long. Maybe that was the problem. He simply needed a woman. He needed to find a willing body and bury his pole inside her and rut himself until he was spent.

His gaze found Anan again, and the fire heating his blood burned out of control, a fiery molten blaze of heat and desire. With a weary sigh, he accepted his position was hopeless. He longed for her and knew with a certainty another woman simply would not do.

“You still want to protest that she does not desire us,” Titus whispered from beside him. “She desires us, or at least one of us.”

Cassius could hear the smirk in Titus’ voice and he closed his eyes with a long sigh.

“I do not care about her desires. Even if she would have us in her bed, she would only use us and toy with us. You of all people know that, which is why I cannot believe we are even discussing this.” The words flew from Cassius’ lips before he could stop them and he glanced over at Titus, his expression full of remorse.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to—”

“It is fine,” Titus bit out as he tore his gaze from Cassius and looked away.

It was not fine. They had shared another woman, a wealthy
married
Roman woman. It had not ended well and since that fateful night they’d not spoken of it. This was the first time.

Cassius pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a long, jagged breath. He did not blame Titus, but of late one could not tell. He knew he’d been cold and distant to Titus, with no explanation or reasoning for his behavior.

He opened his eyes and looked at his second-in-command who stood rigid beside him, his body vibrating with tension.

“I am sorry,” Cassius whispered.

Titus did not look at him. Instead he nodded and said, “This is neither the time nor the place.”

That Titus was right did not ease his mind in the least. He’d spoken out of turn, which had only served to put another rift between them, a rift their relationship could ill afford as strained as it had grown these days.

The absence of sound was what drew his attention and Cassius stared out over the room to find the music had ended and Anan was dutifully ushering her guests from the room.

Cassius appreciated the way the golden
stola
clung to her generous curves, how it stood in rich contrast to her shimmering skin. Anan was gracious to her guests, her smile warm as she said farewell and watched them depart. It struck him then that there was nothing to suggest she was the same as another woman, equally beautiful and equally wealthy, who was pampered and spoiled, who selfishly manipulated others for sheer sport.

He had many reasons why he should bury his desire for Anan—she was not Roman, she despised Romans, she could very well be plotting against him at this very moment. But to bury his desire because he told himself she was the same as another woman was foolishness and he knew it. The longing he’d glimpsed in her eyes as she’d bathed earlier told him her needs had long been neglected. In her gaze he did not see a woman who would lie with a man for sheer sport. No, if Anan took them to her bed, she would give of herself fully, completely, because she desired the touch of another, because she longed for it, desperately.

As if she could hear what brewed in his head, the very object of his thoughts turned and he found himself drowning in beautiful amber eyes. The room was mostly empty now, except for the servants passing through to return the dining hall to order.

Cassius was mesmerized by the woman drawing closer to him, the gentle sway of her hips, the slight smile teasing the corners of her lips.

“As I told you, all was perfectly safe. You may retire if you wish.”

“We will retire when you do,” Cassius replied.

“In that case.” Anan glanced over at her maidservant and dismissed the girl with a nod. “I shall retire now, I think.”

Anan was drunk off wine, her body languid, and the two men who walked behind her assaulted her senses. The air of masculinity and passion that clung to them she could almost feel as if it caressed her like a lover’s hand.

She also sensed tension radiating from them, as if they’d quarreled. She glanced over her shoulder at Titus. His entire countenance was rigid, his handsome features marred by coldness, but the moment she caught his eyes, heat blazed in those emerald depths so full of passion, so full of hunger.

Before she could stop herself a gasp escaped her and she whirled her head around before Titus could glimpse the pinkening of her cheeks.

Titus wanted her—every time he gazed upon her, his eyes burned with longing, with desire.

She did not dare gaze upon Cassius, but if she had, if she’d met and held his stare, she was certain she would have glimpsed myriad emotions swirling in those sapphire depths. Unlike Titus, he did not herald his needs so openly. When he looked at her, fire burned in his eyes, just as hot and needy as the fire in Titus’, but Cassius fought it, he fought to leash it, quell it. He did not want to want her, and yet he could not seem to help it, he could not seem to stop himself from wanting a woman who was beneath him—a
barbarian.
What had he called her? Ah yes. A bitter, childless, husbandless bitch. He should not desire a woman such as her, and yet his body told her he did.

She entered her chambers and turned around, expecting to find them hovering at the doorway.

She was wrong.

They stood within yards of her, the heat of their bodies finding its way toward her, and the scent of them, the primal essence of their beings mingled with her own. She dragged in a breath, almost afraid of the physical awareness that was sure to come. Pure masculine dominance filled her lungs until she was lightheaded.

She was breathless as she stared back at them.

Anan held no illusions—she was a Roman matron past her prime, a barbarian queen who was really no queen at all. Cassius was all too correct in his deductions—she was a bitter, childless, husbandless bitch who had neither a kingdom nor land. And yet when they looked upon her it was as if they did not see all that she lacked.

They looked at her—the both of them—as no man had ever done so before. They looked at her as her husband never had.

Her eyes bored into them, probing deep, and before she had a mind to stop herself, she blurted, “Why do you gaze upon me in such a way?”

Anan directed her question to them both, but only Titus responded. “And how is it that we gaze upon you?”

Her attention darted between the two men and she was suddenly nervous but she remained determined. “I-I don’t know. You gaze upon me with lust in your eyes.”

“And do you wish us to stop?” She noticed Titus had drawn closer. Cassius remained rooted to his spot, but his eyes were now a swirling silver, with just the hint of blue.

Her attention snapped to Titus when she felt the warmth of his breath graze her cheek.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “No man has ever looked at me as you two do.”

“Not even your husband?”

Cassius had finally spoken and her gaze settled upon him, but she hesitated in replying.

The wine had made her bold, but did she dare admit to these strangers, to these Romans what she’d admitted to no one ever before, not her sister, not even her dearest friend, Pithia?

“No, my husband never gazed upon me in this way. He did not find me pleasing.”

“Then he was a fool,” Cassius rasped harshly, and she found it odd that her revelation would upset him, but there was no doubt it had as she watched his hands ball into tight fists.

“A man has not shared my bed in a long time,” she whispered into the silence. “I would be a fool to invite you now.”

“It certainly would not be wise,” said Cassius, although she gathered Titus did not share his opinion if the glare he shot Cassius was any evidence.

Cassius was right. It would not be wise for so many reasons. But how she longed to—how she longed to take a man to her bed who actually wanted to be there.

Her husband had not desired her, touching her had been a burden. He’d only spent his wedding night with her because that had been his duty. After that, he could rarely be bothered, if at all.

Her gaze danced between the two handsome, virile men before her. How she longed to take these men to her bed, who both wished to be there, who both seemed to actually desire
her
.

“I think I should retire now.”

“I think that would be best.” Cassius nodded, while Titus could only sigh, his eyes full of longing tinged with frustration. The former was for her, the latter, his comrade.

With that, she bid them both good night and turned away with the expectation they would take that as their signal to retire as well, so she was surprised when a deep, husky voice floated across the room, halting her where she stood.

She spun around with a small gasp, her hand tensing at the sleeve of her
stola
, which she’d already slipped off her shoulder.

Titus’ gaze darkened from even that scant display of naked flesh. The burning intensity caused desire to knot her belly and she was suddenly grateful that he stood on the other side of her chambers hovering in the doorway, for if he’d been near she would have surely found her way into his arms.

“Cassius would think your husband a fool, but I would add that he was also a liar.” Her breath hitched as Titus’ gaze speared her. “That any man would not find you pleasing is a lie.”

An answering fire flared in her belly at the heat flickering from his eyes. Desire scorched between them, all three of them, if the embers sparkling in Cassius’ eyes were any evidence.

The passion brimming between them threatened to burn out of control until finally Titus turned from her and left her bedchambers, along with Cassius, closing the door behind them with a muffled thud.