“He should never have married you. Not if he couldn’t love you as you deserve to be loved.”
“If he hadn’t married me, someone else would have. Either way it wouldn’t have been you.” The words came out more cutting than she intended, and she bit her lip, but didn’t take them back.
His jaw clenched, a muscle pulsing. “I’m well aware I wasn’t good enough for you.” In a surge of motion, he rose to his feet and paced to the opposite side of the hayloft, the boards creaking beneath him.
“Max, that’s not what I meant.” She followed him and put a hand on his arm. This was not how she wanted to spend their last night together. “We weren’t right for each other back then. You wanted to join the army. I wanted to make a good marriage and raise a family.”
He turned to face her, his eyes dark and serious. “And now? Are we right for each other?”
She took a sharp breath. She knew the answer in her bones, and it pained her. No, they still weren’t right for each other. They wanted different things. Max didn’t want to live in Rome, and if he managed to rejoin the army, he'd be forbidden from marrying anyway.
He must have seen the answer in her eyes, or maybe he felt it too, for his shoulders slumped.
But she couldn’t let him go, not yet. She reached up and caressed his cheek. “I only know about tonight, and tonight, I think we’re right for each other.” She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.
His arm encircled her waist, drawing her against his body. His other hand tilted her chin up, claiming her mouth with his. Desire surged within her. She angled her hips against his, feeling the ridge of his cock, already hard. The responsiveness of his body never failed to thrill her.
Together, they stumbled over to the makeshift bed, a few blankets atop a pile of straw. She sank to the floor first, hiking her dress up to bare her thighs. Max shucked off his tunic and braccae, then joined her. His body settled over her. One forearm braced against the straw as his other hand slid down to explore between her legs. She arched her back and opened herself to him.
His fingers brushed over her, slipping in the wetness that had quickly gathered. He pressed one finger inside her gently, while his thumb circled her most sensitive spot. “Fuck, Volusia,” he whispered against her neck. “I love how wet you get for me.”
She clung to his shoulders. He had learned her body well over the past week, and knew exactly how to touch her to make her senseless to anything but pleasure.
“It is for me, isn’t it?” he continued, his voice growing rougher, his breath hot on her skin. “Tell me it’s for me.” His fingers quickened, his gentleness giving way to a firm, demanding rhythm.
“It’s for you, Max,” she gasped. The muscles of her stomach contracted as a tight ball of yearning gathered in her core.
He lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth, and the swipe of his tongue sent her over the edge, careening into an abyss of pleasure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she buried her moans against his chest, though no one was around to hear but some sheep and a few horses.
He pressed her thighs open and slid his cock inside her as she was still quivering. His entrance caused a wave of renewed sensation that was almost painful in its intensity, but she welcomed it. She wanted to wring every last bit of passion from this final encounter.
He hooked a hand behind the crook of her knee and eased her leg forward, so he could push even deeper into her. She curled her other leg around his thigh, anchoring their bodies together. Slowly, he began to thrust, sinking into her over and over again with a delicious rhythm.
Too soon, he withdrew with a grunt and rolled onto his back. She grabbed his hand before it could close around his cock. “Wait,” she murmured.
“Volusia, I’m so close,” he groaned.
“I know.” She positioned herself over him. There was something she’d been wanting to try, but she’d been too shy until now. But there was no point holding back anymore.
She lowered her head until her lips brushed his straining cock.
A shudder ran through him. “Fuck,” he whispered.
She closed her lips around him and took him in, sliding her mouth down as far as she could. She wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this, but she’d heard enough salacious jokes from her married friends back in Rome that she understood the basics. She tried to replicate the rhythm he struck when he was inside her, hoping that would bring him pleasure.
His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding into her hair. His breathing grew harsh and shallow, with another gasped obscenity as she swept her tongue along his length.
“Volusia, if you don’t stop, I’m going to—oh, fuck,” he moaned as she tightened her mouth around him.
She didn’t stop. He’d been so careful, so thoughtful in their couplings over the past week, always interrupting his pleasure to ensure they wouldn’t risk conception, even when she’d abandoned herself to the throes of desire. At least once, she wanted to let him lose himself inside her.
His fingers curled around the back of her head. His hips bucked, pushing himself deeper into her mouth, and he let out a rough grunt. Her mouth filled with warm, salty liquid. She swallowed quickly, then when he released her head, reached for the water skin to wash it down.
He lay against their makeshift bed, eyes half-closed and a dazed look on his face. She curled herself next to him, stretching an arm across his chest. His arm came up to cradle her back, brushing down her spine in a soothing rhythm. “Volusia, that was…” He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.
She smiled, pleased with herself, and rested her head on his chest.
They were silent after that. Slowly, his breathing deepened, and she knew he’d fallen asleep. She savored the sound of his breathing, the warm solidity of his body beneath her, around her. She tried to commit everything to memory. Soon, these memories would be all she’d have left.
