IN THE BROTHEL ROOM I had hired, I smoothed my hands against my tunic, the fine silk slippery to my touch. My stomach danced as my tongue swept against a lip bitten raw, a slight sting I ignored. I was made of nerves and yet I drowned in excitement.
Forcing calm, and my hands from smoothing my tunic yet again, I trained my gaze on the cloth draping the entrance to the small cell. This place was not much, containing barely more than a raised pallet and nothing of romance, but it was enough. More than enough. As for romance, we had no need of artifice. We would ourselves make romance.
Two days had passed since Marcus and I had decided upon this, and in those two days I had arranged the hire of this place. Patrician women were discreet but did not deny their pleasure, and the whispers of others had brought knowledge of it to me. There was advantage to being thought sullen and terse, advantage in others often spoke as if they were alone. I learned much in my silence, and now I put such knowledge to use. I had arranged for Aurelia to visit her friend Octavia, for none would comment on what was frequent occurrence. Thus I was ready, and I only awaited his presence.
Through the thin walls, I heard others transacting their business, moans and sighs and screams, and my mouth dried as I knew soon I would join them.
I was to take a lover. I was to take Marcus.
Full of nerves, I again smoothed my tunic. I had prepared myself for him, bathing in sweet herbs and oils, wearing my best robes. I had even attempted to dress my hair, a useless endeavour as I hoped his hands would destroy the carefully ordered strands soon after his arrival. Still, I wanted to look my best for him. I wanted to be his all, his everything. I wanted him to worship me, as I did him.
I smiled at my conceit. Ah, certainty one held the desire of another felt glorious.
The curtain draping the entrance opened. My heart leapt as my slave, my Marcus, stepped through, a somewhat harried expression on his face.
“I am sorry I am late. There was a problem with—”
I stopped his words with my lips, my arms snaking about his neck as I entered his mouth with my tongue. His arms locked about me, his hands cradling my buttocks to pull me into him. We kissed and we kissed and we kissed, and in our kiss was hello and I have missed you and I want you.
Pushing myself away from him, I held his gaze with mine as I raised my hand to the clasp at my shoulder, pushing aside my hair. Sometime during our kiss, he had disordered it as I had hoped. I wanted to smile but could not, not with so much welling in me. Slowly, slowly, I undid the clasp and the top part of my tunic slithered away.
I was naked beneath. His eyes flicked down and then back to mine. He licked his lips.
My nipples hardened and my breasts ached. The warm air caressed me, and I wanted to cup my own flesh, wanted to tease myself under his gaze and almost I gave in to this desire. Instead, I undid the braid at my waist and my tunic dropped to the floor.
His gaze drifted over me. My neck, my collarbone, my breasts, my belly. The hair between my thighs, the length of my legs. Trembling under his regard, I prayed he found me pleasing. He raised his gaze to mine and by the lust in his eyes, I saw he did.
He took a step toward me, and then another. My breath strangled in my throat, I waited as he came closer, so close, barely a breath away. Gaze never leaving mine, he leant down and then he broke our gaze and placed his lips against the hollow of my throat.
A hiss of breath escaped me as I closed my eyes. His hands enclosed my waist as his lips traced my collarbone and then back, following a path down my sternum to my breast. Gently, he kissed the flesh above my nipple, then nuzzled the under-curve. Breath held, I wanted him to kiss my nipple and he did, his mouth warm and wet and gentle as he encased me. Slowly, he flicked his tongue against my aching flesh and I moaned, my hand tangling in his hair to hold him to me. His teeth grasped me, tugging at my flesh and I threw my head back, pleasure streaking through me to gather between my thighs, making me hot and empty and wet.
He abandoned my breast for the other, repeating the same gentle treatment. I murmured my pleasure, praising his tongue, his mouth and I felt him smile against me, his hands tightening on my waist.
With a final kiss to my flesh, he looked up at me. “This is what you want?”
Threading my fingers through his hair, having this magnificent man kneel before me and ask me that question, I felt such love well inside me I was overwhelmed. “Yes. But more than that, you are what I want. My Marcus.”
His smile froze and an indescribable joy entered his expression. Reverently, he placed a kiss on my belly. “As you are what I want. My Lucia. Always.”
His hands drifted to my hips just as his mouth drifted down my belly. I watched, my fingers playing over his hair, his shoulders.
As he reached my thighs, he hesitated. “You trust me?”
“Of course.”
His hand stroked the back of my thigh. “I will only do that which will bring you pleasure.”
“I know.” Surprise filled me when he lifted my leg, placing my thigh on his shoulder. “What are you—”
He covered me with his mouth.
Oh. Oh gods. Indescribable, the sensations I felt. He licked and sucked and played with me and I moaned, I screamed, I begged him for more. He worshipped me with his tongue and I wanted to give him pleasure in return, to taste every inch of him, to prove my love. My attention narrowed to where he was, what he was doing and I felt a pressure building, a mountain of pleasure and then it erupted inside me, intense and bright. I called his name, Marcus, Marcus, and he sucked me harder, licked me longer and his hands tightened on my thighs.
Slowly, I descended. He had placed my foot back on the ground, and now I wavered in his embrace, my nakedness pressed tight against his clothing. Fingers trailed up my back and down again, and I buried my nose in his tunic, my arms wrapped around him.
Through his gentleness, I became aware of his length against my belly, hard and full and wanting. My hair stirred with his harsh breath, though he tried to contain it. For me he restrained himself, denied himself, allowed me to recover from the pleasure he had gifted me. Rigid control tensed his muscles, and I found I wanted him. I wanted him now.
I unbuckled his belt, pushed the tunic from his shoulders. Smoothing my hands down his sides, I counted his ribs, traced the delineation of muscle. He made a small noise at my touch and he shuddered. Power rushed over me, that I could make him react so.
His body bore the scars of a gladiator and I traced each one, first with my fingers and then with my mouth. He stood under my ministrations, his hands clenching as I licked his nipple but he did not direct me. Passive, he allowed me the pleasure of control and for that, I loved him a little more.
I reached his erect length and wondered if I were bold enough. I wanted to taste it, to draw him inside my mouth and love him with my tongue. He said nothing, but when I looked up his gaze blazed down at me and when I swayed forward, the blaze burned a little higher. I smiled, a slow, sensual smile, and surrounded him with my mouth.
He groaned and it was a delicious sound, one I had not known I craved. I moved on him, licking and sucking, and his hips began to thrust, tiny movements displaying his restraint was not absolute. Gripping his hips, I dug my fingers into his flesh in warning and he stilled, his face a tight mask.
A final lick, a last suck and with regret I let him go, to kiss my way back up his body. When I reached his mouth, I took it and I felt his desperation in his kiss, his tongue thrusting into me as he no doubt wished to do with his length. Still clenched at his side, his hands stirred and I grabbed them, bringing them to small of my back. His fingers splayed against me and he pulled me into him, our nakedness pressed against each other.
Gently, I broke the kiss and pushed him onto the bed, climbing over to straddle him. His hands rested on my thighs and he leant up to kiss me again, my hair a curtain around us, shielding us from the world. Our kiss ended and I framed his face with my hands, stroking his skin, tracing his cheekbones. He wrapped his arms around me and we stared into one another’s eyes, a hundred words never spoken arcing between us.
Sliding a hand down his chest, I found him and positioned him against me. His hand joined mine and together, we pushed the beginning of him into me.
Slow, inch by inch, I sank down on him. I bit my lip, his length stretching me and bordering on pain. It had been almost two years since I had taken a man and he was not small.
“Are you well? Lucia?” His words were rough, leashed passion lending harshness to his voice.
The pain faded even as he asked, and I brushed his cheek with the backs of my fingers, my other hand gripping his shoulder tight as I put my forehead to his. “I am. I am well.” Desire made my voice a rasp. “You feel so good inside me.”
He closed his eyes and when he reopened them, his passion blazed. “Lucia. By the gods, you are so hot around me, so wet.” He licked his lips, and then he licked mine. “So tight.”
I moaned, I think, his name.
Finally, he was all the way inside and I stilled upon him, savouring. He was hard and he was deep, and I knew he felt the same as I, the same wonder, the same pleasure. I ran my touch down his arms, linking my hands with his, and his fingers curled around mine.
Now, we could not speak. Rising, I rode him slow, a sinuous wave of motion. He looked into my eyes and I looked into his, feeling our connection in our bodies and our souls. How trite, to think so, but the truth could not be denied. I was his, even as he was mine.
In that moment, we were one.
Soon, it became all about pleasure. I felt it deep inside me, where he was, spreading through me like wildfire. I wanted to keep it at bay, to savour the feel of him inside me, but it was screaming, close to bursting, and would not be denied.
I rode him harder, faster, and I could see he was battling his own pleasure, his hands tightening almost painfully on mine. I arched my back and an almost silent scream ripped from me, pleasure thundering through my senses as I spent because, finally, finally, he was inside me. Before the last wave broke he joined me, his hoarse moan beautiful to my ears.
His warm seed inside me, I collapsed on his chest and his arms wrapped around me to hold me to his heart. We said nothing as our breathing slowed, though he did not cease the slow stroke of my back, and I could not quite seem to let him go.
After a time, I lifted myself and he tucked me to his side. There was at least another quarter of the hour before we had to leave and so I rested my head on his chest. His heart a solid rhythm beneath my cheek, I watched the thin curtain separating us from the world gently sway.
“What are we to do?”
The soothing stroke of his hand in my hair stilled. “I am a free man now, Lucia. I have wealth, and position, but I would give it all, to have you.”
Closing my eyes, I traced a pattern on his chest and remembered my long ago fancy. “We would have a farm.”
He resumed the stroke of my hair. “Yes.”
“We would grow lemons, grapes and wheat, and I would make a liquor from the lemons, a liquor you enjoy too well and makes you a little drunk, enough that you would chase me through the wheat fields.”
“And would I catch you?” There was a smile in his voice.
“You would.” As if it was truth I saw it, our modest house in the distance, the product of our labour around us. “You would catch me and lay me down, and amongst the wheat we have grown together, we fuck.”
He chuckled. “Fuck?”
Affronted, I pulled back. “Why? Do you not wish to fuck me?”
“Of course.” He traced my nipple with a finger. “I also wish to make love, to have sex, to tup you.”
I stared at him.
He smiled, his almost-smile. “There is more than one term for it, domina.”
A blush heated my cheeks. “Gods defend me, I am such a fool. My mother always called it… Of course there are other terms. I—”
“Lucia?”
“Yes?”
He kissed me.
After a time, he settled me to his side once more. “So, our farm. Where shall it be?”
“In the southern parts of the Empire, where it is always warm. Near the ocean, so we can gaze upon it and dream of foreign lands.” I felt only a slight pang at my words. It was a nice fantasy.
“Then that is where it shall be.”
I pulled back. “What?”
His gaze challenged mine. “We shall live there. After we leave.”
Wrapping my arms about myself, I found myself chilled. “What are you saying?”
“Lucia.” He took my hands and though I tried, I could not break free. “I will not be without you again.”
I laughed, and there was no humour in the sound. “What are you saying, Marcus? Do you think they will let us be together? The noble’s daughter and a former slave? Tell me, gladiator, what chance do you think we have here?”
His gaze was steady upon mine. “None.”
I thought of his abode. Barren. Spare. He could leave at a moment’s notice.
He could leave.
Like an oil light burning of a sudden bright, I realised his meaning. How could I have been so stupid? We could leave. Such a thing had never occurred to me. Why had it not occurred to me? The girl I had been, the one Marcus had known, she would have thought of it when first he declared himself. She would have made plans, stolen away in the night and not had a care for aught else.
Why had it never occurred to me?
I heard myself speak, heard the words of the mostly broken woman I had become. “How can I leave?”
“You will leave to be with me.”
His arrogance, displayed yet again, almost made me smile. Always so certain, my Marcus. “It is not so simple.”
His thumbs rubbed over my skin. “Do you care for your position here? Your place amongst the nobles?”
“No.”
He smiled at that. He knew I would answer thus. “Would you miss your family?”
I thought of my mother, who slighted me in a hundred small ways. My brother, who wanted me wed with no real concern for my thoughts or wishes. My other siblings, all far away and married with lives of their own, and none of us had ever been close. But for Aurelia, I was alone.
Disrespectful though it was, I shook my head.
“I have wealth, and I have made it portable, so you have no concern for that. I will protect you, and your daughter, with my life. Come away with me, Lucia. Be with me.”
I looked at him, uncertain. Why was I still uncertain?
“How can you hesitate? You were the one who had the courage to teach a slave, though he gave you no encouragement. You were the one who found a way to bring a slave and his woman together, to smuggle her unknown into your domus.” Cupping my cheek, his fingers tracing my temple, he smiled and in his expression was love and awe and a kind of pride. “Lucia, do you not realise you are magnificent?”
Troubled still, I stared at him. “Magnificent?”
His thumb traced my lips. “Yes.”
Capturing his hands with mine, I curled my fingers in his. “If this is so, I have forgotten. My husband—Gaius did not think me magnificent.”
“You have not forgotten.” His hands held me steady, forced my gaze to his. “You have not, Lucia. You can do this. You can be bold, brave and never look back.”
I looked deep within him, saw his conviction and his belief. “Gaius will not let me take Aurelia.”
“Gaius need not be told.”
“My son…”
Silence fell upon our small hired room.
“Your son?” he finally said.
It was painful but it was reality. “My son ceased to be mine the second he left my womb.” The words had barely left before my voice broke.
He held me close. “We will find him, Lucia, and when we do, he will join the strong brothers and proud sisters we have made for him and Aurelia. We will be a family.”
“Gaius—”
“If it becomes necessary, I will deal with him.” He was all steel now, my Marcus. Aurelia would be safe, always, with him as her champion. It made me love him more, that he loved my daughter so.
Still, though, I hesitated. Why? Why could I not just agree?
The arrogant certainty bled from his expression and he appeared…scared. He averted his eyes, taking breath and taking another. Then, as if he braced himself, he looked back.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
How can he not know? After all this time, all these years, he was my constant, the one man I loved.
Doubt faded, hesitation fled, and there was only one answer. “For so long now.”
He closed his eyes, as if in relief. When he opened them, determination burned. “We will leave.”
And, of a sudden, I knew we would. Of a sudden, the girl I had been merged with the woman I had become and I again was bold and brave, and I wanted this. I wanted this.
“Marcus?”
He saw something in my expression. Alert, he asked, “Yes?”
Joy filled me, almost too bright to contain. “Will you leave with me?”
He smiled, his almost-smile, and in his smile was triumph. “Yes.”