Tales of Timeless Romance

Chapter Twelve

Through her alliance with the powerful barbarian king, Placidia did much to benefit the state.

—Orosius, Historiarum adversus paganos libri septem (7.40)

T hat evening, Athaulf savored the feeling of Placidia’s hands on him as she changed his bandage. He’d come so close to losing her. He should have known her agile mind would have come up with some sort of plan, though she had only revealed it once she was certain of his feelings. It pained him that she had thought he didn’t love her, even for a moment.

Earlier that day, he had informed Eurica of his plan to marry Placidia, and her response had been a long-suffering sigh and a dry, “ Finally ,” before congratulating him with a jubilant hug.

“Constantius will not be pleased at this news,” Placidia murmured as she tied the knot in his sling. “He will see it as being deprived not just of a bride, but of the throne.”

Athaulf moved his shoulder gingerly, testing his range of motion. “Do you think he would turn to violence? Try to take you by force?” Constantius would have the might of the entire Gothic army to contend with if that happened. Now that Placidia was truly his, Athaulf would go to war for her, would burn the empire to the ground once and for all if it came to it.

Placidia bent to adjust the position of the sling, and her hand lingered on his chest. “He might…if he thought there was anything worth taking.” She met his gaze in a significant look.

He raised his eyebrows, not understanding what she was trying to communicate.

She slid into his lap, hooking her arm around his uninjured shoulder. His senses sparked at her closeness: the fragrant smell of herbs lingering around her, the sound of her breathing in his ear, as familiar to him now as his own heartbeat. And the warm weight of her in his lap, putting pressure on a very eager part of him…

His pulse spiked, and he struggled to focus on what she was murmuring in his ear.

“If he thinks you have already claimed me,” she said, “he will have no choice but to concede. He will not want a ruined bride, especially one who could be carrying his enemy’s child.”

His free arm wound around her waist, settling her more firmly against him. He was starting to understand. “You’re suggesting we should tell Constantius we are already wed? Or that we have already…” His hand slid down to squeeze her sweet bottom.

She arched into his touch. “Exactly.” Her lips curved into a pout. “But I fear…it wouldn’t be convincing if we only told him.”

Her words made a low chuckle rumble in his chest. How he loved his strategic princess. Her mind weighed out all sides of a situation even at times like this. “Is that what you fear?” He reached down to draw the hem of her skirt over her knee.

She shivered as his fingers found her bare thigh. “Deeply. Terribly.” Her hand slid between them, palming his hardening arousal.

He gripped her thigh, fingers sinking into the muscle. Her body had become layered with lean muscle in the time she had been with them, and she was far from the waifish princess he’d taken from Rome.

Her touch became more determined, hands moving to find the fastenings to his trousers.

“Are you sure about this, Placidia?” he asked, trying to ignore the lust taking root deep inside him. “You want to lie together so we can tell Constantius you might already be with child by another man?”

She shook her head. “I want to lie together because I desire you. Because I can’t stop wondering what lying with you would feel like. Because now that we’ve decided to marry, I don’t think I can go another moment without you inside me.” She leaned forward to kiss the base of his neck. “Constantius is merely a convenient excuse.”

The touch of her lips on the sensitive skin of his throat pulled a groan from him. He caught her chin and tipped her face up to take her mouth. Fire sparked when their lips met, blazing hot and strong in his veins, burning away everything but simple need.

Placidia succeeded in freeing his length from his trousers, and he let out a long, shuddering breath as her fingers stroked him. He wanted nothing more than to abandon himself to the pleasure of her touch, but there were a few practicalities to contend with first.

“We’d be risking a child. Are you ready for that?” he asked, caressing her cheek with his good hand.

“More than ready.” Yearning warmed her voice. “I want a child with you. Our child could change the world.”

She was right—there was no better way to seal their alliance than to give the world a half Roman, half Goth child, with a claim to lead both their peoples.

She leaned closer, fingers tightening around his cock once more. “I’m ready,” she murmured, voice husky. “For this. For a child. For everything that comes next.”

Lust throbbed where she touched him, becoming an insistent pulse that robbed him of all other thought. He longed to sweep her into his arms, carry her to bed, and make love to her as thoroughly and ardently as she deserved, but his blasted shoulder held him back. “I fear I’m not at my best for this.”

“Does it get better than this?” Her fingers wandered the length of his throbbing arousal, her touch becoming so delicate it made him gasp.

“You may need to be above me.” He met her heated gaze. “I know that’s not usual for a maiden—”

She grinned, giving the side of his throat a light nip with her teeth. “Lucky for you, I’m no usual maiden.”

*

Placidia slid off his lap, helped him to his feet, and proceeded to strip him of his trousers. His chest was already bare, the tunic discarded when she’d changed his bandage.

With one hand, he tugged the shoulders of her loose dress down, and she slipped out of it, kicking it away. Lust darkened his eyes once her body was revealed, and he grazed the back of his hand over her nipple. She let out a soft moan as pleasure shot straight to the throbbing place between her legs.

She helped him to lie back on his bedding, then positioned herself above him, knees on either side of his hips. His hand slid between her legs, and he let out a pleased growl. “You’re soaked, princess.”

Her cheeks flushed as his touch ignited even more desire. “Show me how to do it.” In her many, many imaginings about what it would be like to lie with Athaulf, she had always imagined him above her, taking charge, directing the act. She had never considered that she could play such an active role in their coupling, especially not the first time, but now that the moment was here, heady excitement rushed through her like lightning.

“To do what?” He lazily traced a finger around her opening.

She bit back a moan. “You know what!”

“Say it.” He pushed one finger gently inside her.

“To—to take you inside me,” she stammered. “I’m not sure—the exact mechanics—”

She broke off in a gasp as he pressed a second finger inside her in a slow but deep stroke. “Not yet,” he said. “You’re not ready yet.”

“I am!” she insisted. The fullness of his fingers made her ache for him, and she wanted nothing more than to take all of him inside her.

He chuckled. “Patience, my stubborn princess.” His thumb found the peak of flesh at the apex of her thighs.

“Oh,” she breathed. By now, he’d touched her like this many times, but the sensation never failed to overwhelm her. Her internal muscles clenched around him. She closed her eyes, abandoning herself to the pleasure he could give her. His skillful fingers brought her quickly to the peak—but pulled away before she could tumble down, leaving her gasping, eyes flying open in surprise.

She arched her back, a sweet ache throbbing between her legs, but managed to shoot him a glare, though she was perilously close to begging him to put his hand back.

“ Now you’re ready,” he said with infuriating smugness.

She glowered at him, but allowed him to move her into position over his cock. He wrapped his hand around the base, holding it steady as she prepared to ease herself down.

She slid a hand between them to guide him into her, letting out a shuddering breath as she felt his length enter her.

“Go as slow as you need to, love,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully focus on the strange, intriguing sensation of his cock slowly filling her. She eased downward, gratified when his breath caught as she took more of him.

“Is there pain?” he asked, voice strained and raspy.

She shook her head. There was a sensation of stretching, but it was not unpleasant, like that first luxurious stretch of the body upon rising in the morning. And there was fullness—delicious, overwhelming fullness that made her wonder how she had survived so long without experiencing this.

She sank all the way down, until her hips settled onto his frame. She gave a little wriggle, testing the sensation of him inside her, which made him grunt and grasp her thigh. He tilted his hips, allowing him to find a deeper seat within her, and they both gasped.

“Now what?” she asked, half feigning innocence and half unsure how to proceed.

“Now,” he growled, “I’m going to make you come.”

Her muscles tightened around him at his words. “Oh?” From what she had heard from her handful of married acquaintances back in Rome, she guessed that this was not a standard part of proceedings. But then, nothing about her relationship with Athaulf was standard.

His hand found where they were joined, fingers exploring until they reached the spot he’d been tormenting earlier. Pleasure erupted at his touch, seeming a thousand times more intense now that he was filling her. Her hips flexed of their own accord, following the rhythm of his fingers. The pleasure stole her breath, made stars pop behind her eyes.

Moans burst from her mouth—no doubt too loud, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. His fingers rubbed harder, the sweet friction on the outside matching the exquisite sensation of his length moving within her.

“Yes, princess,” he murmured, hoarse and low. “Let me feel you come.”

She needed no further encouragement, and let out a gasping cry as the pleasure consumed her. Her spine arched, and she threw her head back as spasms wracked her body. She rode him, hips moving instinctively to wring every last spark of heat he could give her.

He kept stroking her until she stilled, muscles going limp. She sagged forward, bracing her arms on his chest. He lifted his hand to caress her shoulder, then gently drew her down to rest her head on his uninjured shoulder. He murmured something soothing in her ear, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to understand or respond.

Dimly, she became aware that he was still sheathed inside her, still hard and thick and unsatisfied. She moved to sit up, but his hand on her shoulder kept her in place. “Don’t move.”

“But I—but you—”

He shushed her, his hand moving to hold her hip. “Stay like this for me. Just like this.” He flexed his hips up, thrusting into her, and sparks of residual pleasure made her moan into his ear. He growled, his grip tightening. His fingers dug into her flesh to hold her steady as he took his pleasure. She relished it, relished his hold on her, the unapologetic way he was using her body, as she had used his.

When his breathing became choppy, she knew he was close. “Yes,” she whispered in his ear. “Make me yours, Athaulf.”

He grunted, and his cock drove into her in one final, savage thrust. He groaned her name as he emptied himself inside her. A wide smile spread across her face, buried against his neck. He released his grip on her hip, and she felt the muscles of his chest and torso relax beneath her. She raised her head, brushing a kiss onto his lips, then gently raised herself off of him, already missing the feel of him inside her.

She nestled herself against his good side. His hand traced her spine in a lazy, delicate motion as his breathing slowed.

The enormity of what they’d just done settled over her, but its weight was comforting rather than oppressive. Never again would she be a pawn to be bartered, a princess only valued for the size of her ransom or the promise of her hand in marriage. She had sealed her future with Athaulf on her own terms, and there was no going back now.