Once her legs felt steady, she stood and approached him, needing to get closer. Maybe he wouldn’t look as good up close. Maybe he would have some imperfection that would shatter the illusion of his beauty.
But once she stood within arm’s length of him, he only became more compelling. There were imperfections: a mole on the left side of his collarbone, a thin scar across his shoulder, a light fur of hair that covered his muscled chest. But they merely made him seem real, a man of flesh and blood who was somehow, in this moment, all hers.
“Do you like what you see?” His voice was a quiet rumble. He stood calmly, no trace of modesty or embarrassment.
She envied his composure. She felt utterly discomfited, and she wasn’t even the naked one. “I refuse to say anything that would further inflate your ego.”
He reached for her hand and placed it on his chest. She closed her eyes for a moment at the warm, solid feel of him. Something smooth and metal brushed her hand. He was still wearing the silver armband which covered the brand on his wrist.
With gentle fingers, she grasped the edge of the armband to slide it from his wrist. He flinched back, pulling his arm from her grip.
“I’m sorry…” she faltered.
He let out a breath and shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He pulled the armband off and tossed it to the floor.
She knew he was self-conscious about his brand and what it represented, and his vulnerability in fully baring himself to her touched her heart. This was no longer just about seeing a naked man. Something deeper was brewing between them, the bubbles just barely breaking the surface.
She touched his chest again, first one hand, then another. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him closer. He felt sogoodto touch—like running her hands over a newly acquired book she was longing to read.
When her fingers brushed his throat, he cupped her face in his hands and bent to kiss her. His mouth was gentle on hers, almost hesitant, but the stiffness between his legs left no question of his desire. A thrill shot through her as he drew her closer. Was she really doing this—embracing a naked man, who somehow happened to be her husband?
A surge of boldness overtook her. She dropped her hand lower and took hold of him. He broke off from their kiss with a sharp gasp, which lengthened into a moan as she stroked him.
“I do know some things,” she murmured, satisfied at his reaction.
“I can see that,” he said, his voice strained.
Still stroking him, she drew back to put some distance between them so she could examine how her hand looked wrapped around him.
His breathing roughened. “Bed,” he gasped. She refused to release him as they stumbled over to the bed, keeping firm hold of his cock. He collapsed onto the mattress on his back, and Crispina perched on her knees at his side. In this position, she could look her fill at his entire body, could watch how his chest rose and fell with increasing speed, how his stomach muscles contracted and released as her hand moved over him, how his cock twitched as she stroked him.
“Am I doing it right?” she asked.
He reached down and placed his hand over hers, adjusting her grip and tweaking her rhythm.
“Gods below, that’s good,” he breathed when she got it.
“Tell me what it feels like.”
His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed as if concentrating hard to summon words. “Your hand is so warm. Soft and tight at the same time. It feels incredible.”
Heat blossomed in her core as her arm worked up and down. She experimented with slowing down, grazing her fingertips over him until he groaned with frustration. When he begged her not to stop, she relented and kept up a steady rhythm.
“I want to watch you come,” she murmured. She had never actually seen it happen, and she sensed it would be quite educational.
“Fuck, Crispina,” Aelius gasped. “When you talk like that—” The words turned into a strangled groan. His hips bucked into her hand, and shudders wracked his body as a silvery liquid exploded over her fingers.
His body went limp, his chest heaving. Crispina examined the fluid on her hand. So that was what Memmius was doing inside of her all those times.Educational, indeed.She rose from the bed, fetched a cloth and cleaned off her hand, then returned to sit beside him. His breathing had slowed, and he opened his eyes, his features relaxed in an expression of exhausted bliss.
She wasn’t quite sure what to say. “You, er…I suppose you enjoyed that?”
He let out a breathless chuckle. “Did you?”
She gave a shy nod.Enjoyedwas an understatement. Working Aelius with her hand like that, watching him lose himself to pleasure—it caused a tingling heat to creep over her skin, and she wanted more. She just didn’t know exactly what.
Aelius pulled himself into a sitting position with a sigh of effort. He touched her cheek, gazed into her eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, then pulled her close to kiss her.
Her heat flared like sparks catching fresh tinder. It roared into a full blaze as his hand slid down to cup her breast. His fingers were gentle, almost reverent. She let out a soft moan against his neck as his thumb swiped across her nipple.
