“How do these compare to those women at the brothel?” she asked.
“What women?” he replied dazedly, much too occupied in skimming his thumbs across her hard nipples to comprehend her words.
She gave an unsteady chuckle. “Good answer.”
He lowered his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She let out a sharp gasp and arched against him. Her hand slipped between them, and when it found his cock, he broke off from his enjoyment of her breasts with a ragged groan. Even through the layers of fabric separating them, her touch made him stiffen and ache.
But he needed more, needed to feel her on his bare skin. He struggled out of his clothes. In an attempt to look respectable for the banquet, he’d worn a toga, which he hated. He found the garment heavy and restrictive, and always feared that with one wrong move the carefully arranged folds would collapse in a pile of tangled fabric.
Hands clumsy with urgency, he somehow extricated himself from the miles of wool, balling up and tossing the fabric into the corner of the room. Then, he stripped off his short-sleeved tunic.
Finally, he was bare to her gaze. Her eyes roved over him. He knew he didn’t look like a perfect specimen of a man; his skin was scarred in many places from various fights over the years, most of which he didn’t even remember. But there was no mistaking the appreciation in Velia’s eyes.
Her hands soon followed her gaze, making straight for his cock. Her slender fingers wrapped around him. Desire surged at her touch, and he strove to master himself.
“I knew that graffiti was a filthy lie,” she said with a grin, her eyes sliding to the defaced wall. “Under-promise and over-deliver, indeed.”
He wasn’t capable of summoning a suitably clever reply, so instead he walked her backward, until her calves bumped the edge of his bed. He put a hand on her shoulder, meaning to lay her down, but she stopped him with a raised hand.
“One thing first.” A note of breathlessness entered her voice, which pleased him: a small sign she was as affected as he was. “I don’t wish to risk a child. There are herbs I can take, but it’s safest if you withdraw.”
He nodded. “I understand.” He should have thought of that sooner, but his mind had been too scrambled by the thrill of having her in his room, naked.
With that settled, he gently but firmly pressed down on her shoulders.
She let out a pleased giggle and yielded easily, lowering herself to sit on the bed. She moved to shift backward, but Ferox caught hold of her knee, keeping her in place with her legs draped over the edge of the bed, feet on the floor.
He sank to his knees between her legs. He trailed his fingers down the insides of her thighs, touching her as lightly as he was capable of. Her skin felt as soft as the petals of a flower.
He widened her thighs, head lowering toward that tempting place at their summit. The unsteady illumination was not sufficient to fully appreciate her, but he could see the peaks and valleys of her center. A flicker of light caught on dampness gathered at her entrance, and the sight of it made his cock give a painful twitch.
He slid his hands beneath her round bottom and tugged her toward the edge of the bed, angling her hips up toward him.
“Ferox,” she breathed. Her hand grazed the back of his head. “What are you—oh!”
His mouth found her, tongue sliding over her sex. The banquet earlier might as well have been ash for how it compared to the taste of her.
Her hand tightened in his hair, and she let out a moan as he explored her with his lips. “No one—no one’s ever done this to me before,” she gasped.
He managed to tear his mouth away from her for long enough to speak. “So this wasn’t what you were imagining when you made that comment about my shoulders?”Your shoulders are just the sort of thing a woman could imagine throwing her legs over as she’s getting—she’d said on their return from the brothel before he’d cut her off, scandalized.
She managed a breathless laugh. “If you must know, I was imagining getting fucked with my legs over your shoulders.”
That image sent an aching pulse of need through him, but he held onto his composure. There would be time for all that soon enough. He hadn’t yet had enough of her taste, so he sought her once more with his mouth. His lips closed around the swollen bud at her apex, tugging at it gently. She made a high-pitched noise, so he did it again.
Though he appreciated her experience, there was a deep, primal satisfaction in knowing he was the first to please her in this way. Many would claim that this act was unmanly, degrading to perform.
But Ferox would dare anyone to say that to his face.
Her thighs closed around his head, reducing his entire existence to the feel of her against his tongue, her intoxicating scent, the salty tang of her desire.
Suddenly, he didn’t just want to be the first to do this to her. He wanted to be the last. The possessive urge overwhelmed him for a moment. His fingers tightened where he gripped her thighs, pulling her closer.Mine.
But just for tonight. Velia was only doing this because of his fight tomorrow—because, for some reason he still couldn’tdecipher, she objected to the idea of him visiting a brothel. This would be a onetime pleasure, so he’d better savor it.
He continued working her with his tongue, searching for what she liked best. She was responsive and uninhibited with her reactions, not hesitating to move his head where she wanted it.
His cock throbbed, an insistent, demanding pulse between his legs. He ached to wrap his fist around himself, but feared his desire would get the better of him.
