Chapter 16
At the moment, Kallias felt anything but intelligent.
The sight of Lea—gloriously naked—rendered him dazed and stupid, turning his mind to mush.
He had been imagining what she looked like under those hideous tunics ever since he saw her breasts pop out of her bindings the day he met her.
Somehow, the reality was far better than anything his mind could conjure.
His gaze swept over her muscled legs, her lean abdomen, up to her full breasts, tipped with rosy nipples that begged for his touch.
She settled herself into his lap, and he bit back a groan at the feel of her warm weight pressing against his rapidly swelling arousal. His hands skimmed along her hips, up her sides. He felt as if he couldn’t touch her too firmly, as if that would dissolve the illusion like a puff of smoke.
“I want you,” she murmured, then leaned forward to kiss his neck.
His eyes fluttered shut. Pleasure threatened to overwhelm him, but what remained of his mind wouldn’t let him fully abandon himself.
Something wasn’t right. Lea had gone from being tense and anxious to baring her body for him in the span of three breaths. Had she been planning this all along? Was that why she was nervous?
“You said you’d only kissed one man before,” he managed. “I suppose that means you’ve only bedded one too?”
She lifted her head from his neck, her gaze dark, eyes heavy-lidded. “Right.”
Something else occurred to him: another explanation for her tension. “This one man, was he good to you?” He wasn’t sure what her past had held, but assuming she’d been enslaved before being sold to the ludus, his own experience allowed him to guess at the sort of darkness she might have faced.
“Very good,” she replied with a coy smile.
“Very good?” He raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m jealous. Should I be worried about an angry rival breaking down the door?”
“Only if you fear ghosts,” she said. “He’s been dead for two years. He was a friend. His name was Hector.”
“I’m sorry you lost him.” This man must have been a gladiator, he realized, which was to be expected. But knowing that Lea’s only prior experience had been with a man in peak physical condition, able to crush skulls and break ribs with a single punch…that would make anyone feel rather inadequate.
Then again, Lea lived surrounded by gladiators. If she wanted a man like that, she could take her pick.
Instead, she seemed to want him.
She rose to her feet and pulled him to standing.
Then, she reached for the hem of his tunic and tugged it over his head.
Her bare skin brushed his, dizzying him with the pleasure of it.
Instinct took over. He took a step toward the bed, and she moved with him.
He needed to feel her beneath him, needed to see her dark hair spread over the bed linens.
They tumbled together onto the bed. In the back of his barely functioning mind, he half-expected her to end up on top, as she’d done that night when she was intoxicated by the dreamfish.
But she seemed happy to find herself beneath him. Her hands clasped his shoulders. Her right hand was callused, and the patches of roughened skin rasped against him, sparking shivers. A marked contrast to the rest of her, which was softer than he’d ever imagined.
He slid a hand over one of her breasts. The feeling of fullness, the soft weight in his palm, made him ache. His thumb found her nipple, and she made a little squeak as he swiped over it.
He liked that noise, so he did it again, and she arched into his touch. “You like that,” he murmured, lust roughening his voice. He enjoyed this part of every new coupling—careful experimentation to uncover what they liked, what made them shudder and twitch, what they would beg for. “What else?”
A flush crept over her cheeks, spreading down to her collarbone. The skin on her face and lower limbs had been tanned to a golden glow, while the rest of her was several shades lighter—but not light enough to hide the assortment of silvery scars that dotted her body.
He tried not to wince when he noticed them. What a hard life she’d had. Suddenly, he wanted to take her far away from here, somewhere she’d never have to fight, never have to be hurt again.
But while he served the emperor, that was impossible.
He turned his mind away from her scars and back to the tempting body that bore them. “What else do you like?” he repeated, as she hadn’t answered his question.
She turned her head away, pressing her cheek into the linen. The display of shyness was unexpected, and it aroused him as firmly as any touch. She was usually so bold, so fearless; this was a side of her he bet very few people glimpsed.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice breathy. “The normal things?”
He chuckled and ran his hand down her heated cheek, gently turning her face back to him. “What’s normal to you? Do you like to be on top?” It was an educated guess, based on the way she’d mounted him that night in his bed.
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “If that’s what you want.” Then she stretched her hands over his shoulders, fingers tracing down his spine in a way that made him shudder. “You don’t need to ask me all these questions,” she whispered in his ear. “We can just get on with it.”
His cock was certainly tempted, as it gave a demanding throb at her words. But he shook his head. “That’s not how I do this. I like to know things about the people I bed.”
“Of course you do,” she muttered. “Fine. I like…when I feel like I can trust someone enough to let go.” She met his gaze, then glanced away. “I like letting someone else be in control.”
That surprised him. He eased himself off her, coming to lie on his side next to her, propped on an elbow. “Really?”
She shifted her gaze back to his, and he saw the vulnerability it had taken to share this with him. “There’s a relief in letting someone else handle things for a while.”
“I understand.” He realized she likely spent every waking moment fighting for total control of her body—honing every muscle, practicing maneuvers until she could do them in her sleep.
It made sense that she might enjoy giving that up when it came to bedsport.
“Though I might have expected you to enjoy overpowering me like you did at the palace.” He grinned.
She snorted. “Would you have liked that?”
“It might not have been my first choice, but I’m nothing if not flexible.”
“What would have been your first choice?”
He considered how best to answer that. “Well…I’ve spent most of my life with no say in where I go or what I do each day. When it comes to bedsport, it’s rather refreshing to be able to take control.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Is that so?”
“Indeed.” His desire for Lea was strong enough that he’d have happily accommodated whatever she wanted, but this unexpected complement to their preferences sent an extra thrill through him.
“So…” She rolled onto her back and pulled him atop her. “Now that you know what I like…what would you have me do?”
She clasped her legs around his hips, and he sensed what was on her mind. He could feel the strength in her legs, pulling his body flush against hers. He ached to keep things simple, to do exactly as she seemed to be trying to convince him to do.
But if he did that, this would be over much too fast. He wanted to take things slower, to savor the process of discovering more of what she liked—discovering her—and how they fit together.
Also, he wanted to test what she said about letting someone else take control, to see how far she would go for him.
“I wonder…” He pulled back slightly, and she released the grip of her legs around his waist. “Would you kneel for me?”
Surprise flickered across her face, but she nodded.
He rolled off her, and she rose from the bed. She sank to her knees in the middle of the small span of empty floor, atop a woven rug that covered the stone tiles. She rested her hands on her strong thighs. “Like this?”
Kallias came to stand before her. He took a moment to burn the sight of her into his mind. He wanted to scar himself with it, to never forget how she looked—this powerful woman, capable of overpowering him any time she chose, on her knees for him… “Yes,” he replied, suddenly hoarse. “Like this.”
She kept her eyes on his face, her chin tipped up toward him, and something in the meeting of their gazes unsteadied him, as if the tiles beneath his feet had suddenly loosened and shifted.
“Tell me one more thing you like,” he said. He reached out to touch her face, fingers brushing the curve of her jaw.
At that, her gaze slid away from his, and that beautiful flush crept back over her skin.
He wanted to hear it for two reasons: first, because he’d be able to put the information to excellent use, and second, because he wanted to see if she trusted him enough to reveal something so intimate.
“Only if you tell me something too,” she replied, meeting his gaze once more.
“I’ve already told you what I like.”
“I want specifics.”
He knew she was deflecting, buying time, but he decided to accede to her request. “All right.” He traced a finger over her cheek, the skin pink and warm. “I enjoy making my partners blush. Like you’re doing right now.”
At that, she reddened even more. “Really?” She looked skeptical, as if she’d never imagined that was something which could bring pleasure.
Kallias nodded. “Your turn.”
She shifted position, running her hands up and down her thighs, and chewed her lip. Each little mark of discomfiture sent a heated thrill down his spine, settling in his cock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this painfully aroused. He feared he’d fall apart at a single touch.
Finally, she spoke. “I like…pain. Certain types,” she clarified hastily. “In certain circumstances. Not this.” She lifted her wounded arm.
That was very interesting. He’d thought she would experience enough pain in her daily life—even when she wasn’t wounded—that the prospect of adding more would hold no appeal.