Seduced by the Gladiator (21 page)

“Lilia.” Christus’ voice contained a warning. “Do not leave my side.” Moving from stung to angry, I turned, my eyes narrowed.

I was not prepared for it when he grabbed me by the hips and lifted. In response, I wrapped my legs around his waist, felt the hardness of his cock as it pressed against the heat between my thighs.

“The mere mention of her name causes a need in me.” My mouth fell open, and I pushed at his chest, appalled that he would say such a thing to me while I was in his arms. “A need to burn all traces of her from my mind.” Clasping the back of my head in one large hand, he pulled my face to his and devoured my lips with his own.

As he did, a wave of lust unlike anything I had ever experienced reared up and slapped me in the face, hard. A surge of wetness spilled between my thighs, and I was suddenly consciously aware of the worn leather of my subligaculum rubbing against my clit.

I wanted to fuck. I wanted to fuck the memory of the other woman from his mind, and wanted to erase the taint of Gaius from my own.

More than that, I wanted him to brand me with his body, one last time. When I entered the arena the next morning, I wanted to be sore, the sensation a constant reminder that I was his, he was mine, and we were not alone.

I loosened the grip of my legs from around his waist, sliding down his body. He pressed against me, the jut of his erection now pressing into my belly.

The sounds of the couple behind the curtain encouraged me as I pulled him to the floor with me, as I pulled him down on top of me. The stone was cold against my back, and as I shivered, Christus rolled until I sat astride his hips, straddling him.

Lowering my head, I sank my teeth into his lower lip and heard a muted sound rise from his throat. I bit hard, half afraid I would draw blood and half not caring if I did. All I could think about was getting him hot enough and hard enough that he would take his cock and ram it into my cunt as hard as he could, over and over again.

That he would fuck me until neither of us could remember anything at all.

The noises he made as I continued my assault on his mouth pleased me; deep, growling noises that reminded me of a wild animal. I knew that he would make those same noises when he was touched elsewhere, and I wanted to hear them.

Taking a firm hold on his waistband, my fingers worked at the knot of his subligaculum. I wanted him hard, as hard as he could get, right now. His hands slid up my hips, to my waist, then back down. He held me steady as I tussled with the firm, supple ties that were holding his leathers in place, and my fingers brushed over his cock, which was engorged and huge. I stroked him, feeling the firm length through his own wrap, measuring him with my hands.

Desperate, I gave up on the knot and slipped my hands inside. He hissed out a breath, and I gentled my touch a bit. When my fingers met bare skin, I purred in delight; the hot silk of his cock felt wonderful under my fingers. I rubbed a finger across the tip and was rewarded when a drop of liquid oozed out to pearl on my fingertip. Fisting my hand around his shaft, I pumped it up and down and was rewarded as it grew harder and thicker in my palm.

“Lilia.” His voice was thick as he rasped out my name. His heavy breaths joined the crescendo of the lovers on the other side of the curtain. Knowing that someone else was lost in bliss so close to us was intoxicating, as was the knowledge that anyone, anyone at all, could pull back this curtain, and could catch us in the middle of the act.

It was a dangerous game, and I knew it. I could just imagine the expression on Gaius’ face if he were to walk in on me with Christus.

In the end, that was the deciding factor. I wanted Christus, and I wanted him now, and I did not care if it was proper or not.

“I am going to taste you.” Christus inhaled sharply as I slid down his legs, straddling his knees. Pulling impatiently at his leathers again, I sighed with triumph when they finally gave way, falling to the floor on either side of his hips.

His naked cock rose from its nest of silky black hair. The length of his shaft pulsed with need, and the skin of the tip was flushed a delicious shade of pink.

Slowly, my eyes on his, I lowered my head. I pressed my lips first to the inside of one thigh, then to the other. Short hairs tickled my nose, and I smiled as I licked my way across the crease that divided his taut abdomen from his leg.

I moaned as I inhaled the musky scent that was uniquely Christus. His hands stroked over my head, then fisted in my hair, tugging slightly. I gasped at the sting, but loved it all the same.

I took the base of his shaft in one hand, and he exhaled loudly. I sucked the fat tip of his cock into my mouth at the same time, and a groan fell from his lips.

Another groan, this one like an echo, sounded from beside us. My clit throbbed, knowing how close the other couple was to us.

Swirling my head around the tip, I tasted salt and musk and man.

“Lilia.” He pushed my head forward, and I let him, sliding his shaft down the back of my throat. I nearly gagged, and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, but I did not care. I wanted to please him.

I had never done this before, and I did not know what he would like, and so went solely on instinct. I had heard the other men talk, though, about what they liked and what they did not, and I’d obtained ideas there.

Pulling back until I was comfortable with where his member sat in my mouth, I began to suck, as hard as I could. The sound that issued from Christus’ mouth was one of near shock, and I stopped, releasing his cock from my mouth with a wet pop, thinking that I had perhaps hurt him.

“No! No, do not stop!” He looked down at me, his torso propped up on his elbows, and on his face was a mixture of lust and appreciation. He liked what I was doing.

“Your mouth feels so good.”

I squirmed, as needy as he. Lowering my head again, I wrapped my hand around his shaft and moved it, slowly, up and down. At the same time I sucked just the tip in, sucking it as hard as I had done before.

Mere moments had passed, moments that were silent on our side of the curtain and frenetic on the other, when I felt the now familiar clench in Christus’ thighs that told me he was about to find his release. Though I wanted to please him, I wanted—needed—to feel him inside of me, just this one last time.

He pulled back at the same time that I did, and we stared at each other, our breathing ragged and unsteady.

From the other side of the curtain came wails that told us the strangers had reached the height of their ecstasy. Knowing that we could pull that curtain back, that I could see them in the throes of their climax, was unbearably exciting.

Our flesh collided as we lunged at each other, trying to regain our footing. I reached for the knot of my subligaculum, intending to climb him like a tree if need be. I was surprised when he lifted me as if I weighed nothing at all and carried me back to a small pile of cushions. Lowering my feet, then my knees, so quickly that I squealed, he twirled me around and placed my palms flat against the floor. Bending me over at the waist, he inched down the loosened leather of my subligaculum, his knuckles brushing against the soft triangle of downy curls as he did so. My exclamation of pleasure caught in my throat as he slid my bottoms down over my hips, past my knees, until they pooled around me on the floor.

My knees were slid apart by one of his and held in place by the same. It was all going so fast, I knew that I should take a moment to slow down, to savor. But his hands had found the tips of my breasts, and I could feel them pucker in the cool breeze as one hand strummed across the pebbled tip. The other rolled the tight peg between thumb and forefinger. I could feel the tugs all the way down to my womb and the muscles of my cunt tightening, becoming slick, preparing for the intrusion of his cock.

But he didn’t give it to me, not yet. His fingers wandered down until he found my clit, and I gasped as the first waves of pleasure began to roll through me, urging me to forget Gaius, to forget Hilaria, to forget everything but the delicious sensations that this man was sending through me.

He slipped a finger inside of me, and my knees wobbled. He had a firm grip on me from behind, though, which was good. When his finger retracted covered in my wetness and began to stroke over my hard nub, my legs shook so hard that I thought I might fall.

His hard shaft nudged at the cheeks of my ass, searching for my drenched cleft. I leaned over as far as I could, lifting my ass high in the air, so he could more easily access all of my sweet, hidden spots.

The sudden pinch of his fingers on my clit made me cry out, and before I could quiet again, two of his fingers were inside of me, nestled between my sleek, snug inner walls. He rubbed up and down, pleasuring sensitive spots I had not even known I possessed. The pressure built in me, growing brighter and brighter, until I was blinded by the sensations and swallowed a scream. My inner muscles clamped down on his fingers so tightly I was afraid I would hurt him. I rode the wave, whimpering as its huge pounding crests dulled down to tiny little ripples.

I thought that now he would finally give me a taste of his cock, but instead of entering me from behind with his shaft as I had expected, he slid more fingers inside of me, and the stretching of my insides felt so good that I rocked my hips and pressed against his hand, wanting to take them all in.

He understood and tentatively wiggled in the tip of a fourth digit, rotating it back and forth until it was slick enough with my cream to slide all the way up to join the others. My rocking movements against him became frenzied, and I growled, feeling the primal need to mate, to fuck, to entwine myself with my lover.

His fingers flickered inside of me, and I cried out in desperation, because the only thing that could possibly assuage the ache I was feeling was his cock ramming into me from behind, over and over, battering my pussy until I shattered.

From behind me, I felt Christus position his cock at the entrance to my cleft. He used his hands to help separate the folds of my ass cheeks, guiding his cock up and down, stroking me, until I felt the head slide past my entrance.

I sighed in pleasure as he was inside me in one smooth thrust—all the way inside me—and my pussy clenched around him like a warm, wet mouth. He set a slow pace, and it felt so good, so right, the slow building of that undeniable pressure.

He reached around to fondle my breast again, and I arched my back against him so more of my flesh spilled into his palm. He began to thrust harder, picking up speed until our flesh began to make harsh, slapping noises. I was so close, so close. When his hand lowered to brush over my clit, just one single time, I came so hard that I forgot, for a moment, who I was and why I was there. I could also feel the hard shot of him deep within me as he let out a groan, and I felt immeasurably pleased that I was able to bring him to such an intense orgasm.

As we sprawled there, muscles quivering, the air kissing the sweat on our skin, a sense of calm stole over me, and I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my soul.

Even if I were to die tomorrow, I thought, even if that was it . . . at least I would always have this.

A
s we climbed to our feet and refastened our clothing around our sated bodies, we became aware of the noise beyond the curtain—not the noise of the other couple, who had long since quieted and moved on to other things.

No, it was the noise of the party—the sound of festivities that had denigrated into something dark and wicked.

Slowly we peered around the curtain. I blinked at the sight that confronted us.

The party—the feast to honor the gladiators—had become a drunken orgy. Every possible surface was covered with a tangle of limbs. The smell of sex hung heavily in the air; everywhere I looked was a gladiator twined with a patrician woman, a patrician man entering a gladiator from behind, two patricians and a gladiator—the only people not involved in the tangle of limbs were some slaves who cleared away the platters of food.

In the middle of it all I saw the blond head of Hilaria. One man had his mouth between her legs; another man entered her from behind. Yet another caressed her breasts.

Beside her was Gaius. He lay on a couch, thrusting in and out of the red-haired woman whom I recognized from the house of my dominus.

Another woman, a new one, knelt over the back of the couch, working a phallic-shaped object in and out of Gaius’ ass. Yet one more female knelt beside the couch, her breasts framing the face of the redhead. Propping his weight on his elbows, Gaius alternated between slapping her face and pinching and pulling at her nipples. She moaned in time with his blows and fingered her clit and cunt.

It seemed that, for the moment at least, Gaius and Hilaria had forgotten that we existed.

“Christus!” I hissed out the thought that hit me like a blow in the arena. “We can escape. Let us run! We will run away and be together!”

Temptation washed over his face, and then he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back, behind the curtain.

“Lilia, think this through.” I did not want to have my wild hope tamped down, and I refused to meet his eyes. Still he spoke, the voice of reason in my fit of madness.

“Where will we go? What will we do? My coin is back at the ludus, as is yours. We are both well known throughout the city. As soon as Gaius realizes that we have gone—and he will come looking for you the moment his lust has been slaked, you know this—we will be hunted.”

He did not say the rest, but I knew it regardless. If we were caught trying to flee the bonds of slavery, we would be killed.

If we stayed, if we participated in the games the next day, at least one of us would have hope of survival.

“You cannot escape, at any rate.” Christus shoved me behind him, and I pushed back as the sweet, young female voice sounded from the other side of the curtain. Christus ripped the cloth half off of its hanging, murder in his eyes.

My muscles relaxed somewhat when I saw that it was but another slave on the other side, sitting with legs crossed on a cushion. The young girl was heavily pregnant, and she massaged the curve of her belly with her hands. She was taking a moment to rest her swollen flesh, nothing sinister.