“Perhaps we should finish our conversation somewhere more private,” Crispina whispered.
Aelius grinned, took her hand, and led her away.
Chapter 34
Crispina followed Aelius into their bedroom. It hadn’t changed, and memories surfaced of all of the nights they had spent within these four cozy walls. Desire bloomed within her, rendering her dry-mouthed and sending a shiver down her spine.
Aelius shut the door, then stepped close to her, filling her vision with the breadth of his chest and the lustful promise in his gaze. “I’m afraid I don’t have much conversation left.” His voice was the low, husky rumble she remembered.
“Nor do I,” she breathed, then tilted her face up to kiss him. She did have more things to say to him; she needed to broach the topic of continuing her lessons on the Aventine, but that could come later. No more words, for now. All she cared about was the way his hands grasped her body, the press of his mouth against hers.
Aelius seemed to be of a similar mind. His lips skimmed her neck, and she gasped at the feel of stubble against her throat. She angled her hips against his, and found him hard and ready. He let out an appreciative growl. He untied the sash beneath her breasts, then unclasped the brooches securing the shoulders of her stola. The fabric fell to the floor, and she pulled off her undertunic.
Cool air whispered over her skin, but the heat of Aelius’s gaze warmed her straight through. The tips of his fingers caressed her collarbone, traveling lower. She arched toward him as his fingers trailed over her breasts, longing for a firmer touch, but he didn’t give it to her.
In retaliation, she reached under his tunic and gave him a single slow, light stroke. He throbbed in her hand, growing impossibly harder. His mouth fell open as desire rippled over his face.
“Bed,” he grunted. “Now.”
She grinned smugly and ambled over to the bed, casting a glance back at him. He yanked his tunic over his head and tossed it to the ground. She drew in a sharp breath, catching her lip between her teeth at the sight of his lean, golden-skinned body. She had come so close to losing all of this—losing him.
She perched on the edge of the bed. He walked over to her, then bent down, slid his hands beneath her bottom, and tossed her lightly into the middle of the bed.
“My hair,” she whispered as her head rested on the bedcovers. “It will be ruined for dinner.” She had chosen a more elaborate style than usual for the occasion, and it had taken nearly two hours to curl, braid, and pin her hair.
His body covered hers. “How I want to ruin it,” he murmured against her neck.
A thrill shot through her, but she tried to keep her head. “There will be time for that after dinner,” she promised. “Until then…” She rolled onto her stomach.
“Mm.” He traced a finger down her spine, making her shudder. “I think this will do.” He gave her bottom a firm squeeze, then grabbed her hips and pulled her to him.
She arched her back, seeking the hardness that thumped against her, but still he made her wait. His fingers delved between her legs, dipping into the wetness that had already gathered. He remembered exactly how she liked to be touched, how to make her writhe and gasp.
She closed her eyes, basking in the pleasure that arose with each stroke—only for him to pull his hand away much too soon. She let out a frustrated growl, but eagerness took over once more as she felt him shifting behind her, adjusting the positioning of her hips. The blunt, warm head of his arousal pressed against her. Her body welcomed him, and he let out a rough sigh as he sank all the way in.
Crispina lowered her forehead to the mattress, arching her back to take him even deeper. She loved the way he filled her like this, primal and possessive. He bent to drop a kiss between her shoulder blades, then his fingers closed around her hips, holding her steady as he thrust. He set a hard, fast pace, rougher than usual, but her body thrilled at every movement. She dug her fingers into the mattress as each thrust jolted her body.
“Harder,” she gasped. She needed to feel him in every inch of her body, needed him to make her entirely his once more.
“Are you sure?” His voice was breathless and unsteady.
“Oh, yes.” She wanted everything he could give her, wanted to take every bit of the anger and pain he must have felt over the past few weeks. This coupling would cleanse her, absolve her. It would serve as the final proof of his forgiveness that she desperately needed.
“Give me your hands.”
At the raspy command, she laid her cheek on the mattress and stretched her arms back toward him. He clasped her wrists in one hand, gripping tightly where they rested on her back. With his other hand, he reached around her hip to rub between her legs, somehow keeping pace as he continued to ram into her.
Crispina squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed with sensation. The pleasure drew tight, almost painful in its intensity. “Aelius!” she gasped.
“Too much?”
“Don’t stop,” she begged. The knot of pleasure exploded, and she lost herself to a wave of blissful shudders. Moans burst from her mouth, gasping and keening as the climax ripped through her.
Aelius released her arms to take firm hold of her hips, holding her in place as her body convulsed against him. His fingers dug into her flesh, and his breathing grew ragged. He groaned her name amid a few final hard thrusts, then withdrew, panting, and collapsed on the bed next to her.
Crispina rolled onto her side and nuzzled his chest, her mind still foggy with pleasure, her body aching but satisfied. Aelius pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms. Their lips met in a long, slow kiss.
“Do you think it’s mandatory for a victorious candidate to attend his own banquet?” Aelius asked in a drowsy murmur.
