42. Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Two
S kye
I remember running down the hallway from the cafeteria the last time we were so eager to make love. We were breathless and desperate and still so new to each other.
This time is different. We walk the streets of Rome for a few more minutes before we call a taxi. We’re touching hands, something we do all the time, but it feels different, more fraught with emotions, as we let our anticipation build. Although we both know what’s coming, we don’t mention it again. We just revel in each other’s presence. Our steps slow, as though we have all the time in the world.
Thrax turns up the heat in the taxi when he places his hand on my thigh. It’s near my knee, nothing overtly sexual, although the look in his eyes could scorch metal. I’m not surprised when his thumb slowly circles over my dress, not-so-subtly reminding me that soon that hand will be in the same spot when I’m naked and he yanks my thighs open.
I spread my knees, wondering if he’ll take the hint, but he just keeps circling, circling, knowing the pad of his thumb has my complete attention. When we arrive at the hotel, we don’t race through the lobby. Instead, Thrax decides it’s the perfect time for a little art tour.
We’ve been here for over a day and haven’t taken a glance at the oil paintings scattered throughout the lobby and main hallways. Today, my gladiator has become an art lover.
He keeps his arm around my waist as he leads me to one picture after another, all of them depictions of ancient Rome.
“Here.” He bends his mouth to my ear, even though he knows I can hear perfectly fine through the earbud. “A poor depiction. Pictures of the forum should be gritty, should let the viewer smell the stench. This is too…”
“Fanciful? Romantic?”
“Ah.” He nods, making sure his warm breath grazes the vulnerable column of my neck. “Yes. Romantic.”
He can be subtle when he wants, my gladiator. He uses his next step as an opportunity to change his grip just slightly. Just enough so his thumb presses the side of my breast. If it happened at another time, there would be nothing erotic about it. But because I know what’s coming next, it pulls my attention straight to my hardening nipples.
“And this one?” He uses his free hand to gesture at two quadrigae in a race in the Circus Maximus. “If you listen closely, can you hear the hoofbeats, the cheers of the crowd?”
There was no reason for him to bend closer, to ease into my space, to place his lips so close to my ear that he made me shiver.
“You must have been very good in the arena,” I scold. “You have an instinct for…” I stop myself mid-sentence, not wanting to trigger any bad memories.
But he finishes the sentence for me. “Knowing right where to thrust ?”
Oh, my God. Those words went right to the heart of me. No. Lower .
It’s late, and the hotel lobby is almost deserted except for the sleepy clerk behind the desk. Thrax drags me down an unused hallway where we find older, smaller paintings. He’s freer with his hands here, letting an elbow gently graze my puckered nipple, a palm rest on the small of my back, then drift downward to cup my ass.
Two can play his game. I clear my throat when he places his hand across both cheeks, one finger pressing far deeper than it needs to.
“My apologies.” Funny. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. Then he reaches to my hip and tugs me closer. When I don’t protest, he turns at my side to face me, making certain to swing his hips so his erection grazes my abdomen.
I’m burning for him now. It’s just that I don’t know if I’d rather continue this teasing game on our little art walk, or hurry to our bed.
“It must be a burden,” I say as I point out a little pub scene with a phallus carved above the door. “Having such a big phallus that it rubs against everything.”
“Yes. Some men just can’t keep their affections hidden.” He’s not even pretending to look at the picture.
The next painting we approach depicts a dimly lit banquet, the table laden with food.
“This makes me hungry,” I say sweetly. “There’s one particular taste I’ve been in the mood for. Been wanting it for weeks now.”
“Roast pig?” He asks brightly as he nods toward the suckling pig in the center of the picture.
“No.”
“Tiramisu? You enjoyed it for dessert.”
“No. For my second dessert, I was thinking of something warm… a bit of sweet, a bit of savory. Served fresh. Piping hot. ”
I don’t look him in the face, preferring to step back far enough to watch his huge cock twitch under the slacks he bought earlier today.
“That’s enough,” he says through gritted teeth as he lifts me up and tosses me over his shoulder like a caveman.
“Stop!” I whisper. This place is so full of marble, every step, much less every word, echoes from one end of the hallway to the other.
“I watched earlier. I know which button to hit.” He strides from the deserted hallway to the lobby, which now has a party of late arrivals gathered around the desk.
I’m mortified, so it’s a good thing my face is basically pressed against the finest ass in Italy—past or present.
The elevator dings. He strides into it, and his chuckles make his whole body—and me—heave with his happiness.
“You’re an ass!”
“You’re a delight.”
“You’re a sadist and in case that doesn’t translate, it means you’re mean.”
“And you’re the sweetest woman I’ve ever known.”
“You’re full of yourself and in case that doesn’t translate, it means you think too highly of yourself.”
“But I think very highly of you, Skye.”
With that, the doors open and he carries me down the hall with such a sense of purpose, I imagine no one could stop us if they tried.
My two-thousand-year-old man manages the key card just fine, but even when we’re in our room, he doesn’t release me .
“You want down?” He’s so damn calm I want to wipe what I know has to be a smirk off his face, although I’m still ass over teakettle on his shoulder.
“Yes! Down!”
“For a kiss.”
I consider fighting, being like one of those women in the forties movies who pummels the man in this situation. But damn it. I want his kiss. I crave everything those sensual touches in the lobby promised.
“Okay. Just a little peck, though.”
He laughs. God, I love this side of him. I’ve never met it before. It’s fun and sexy and tells me he’s not the man I met over a month ago. We joked about the arena a few moments ago and he didn’t bat an eye.
He slides me down the length of his body, my nipples brushing every sculpted inch of his chest in a tantalizing glide. By the time my feet hit the floor, he’s not laughing anymore. His gaze is riveted on my lips.
“By Jupiter, you’re the most amazing thing on this planet, my Skye.”
He lifts me again, but this time it’s so my lips are at the same level as his. When his mouth descends on mine, the kiss is soft and sweet. The long kiss ends in a flurry of quick ones. Then he peppers kisses all over my face, as if he’d vowed to kiss every inch of me.
“Is this the little peck you wanted?”
His voice is like soft velvet and I’m overcome with so many emotions I don’t know what they are.
“I want pecks and kisses and you, Thrax. Dear God, I want you in every way I can have you. I want you to look at me as you’re looking at me now, and I want it forever. I want my body to burn for you like it does now, and I never want it to stop. I want this urgent, desperate feeling to have you inside me. I want to taste you. Tell me, how have I managed to wait to discover how you taste?”
His eyebrows flash. Perhaps this stunned him, but I can’t stop spilling my thoughts and desires. This isn’t my usual anxious word vomit. It’s the opposite. My thoughts are so important, it’s urgent that I tell him every single one.
“I want you inside me. I want to make you feel good. I want…” I need to stop, but there’s one more thing. Not something I want, but something I need . “I need to hear it again, Thrax. I need to hear—”
His eyes soften and seem to sparkle in his beautiful face, but he doesn’t hesitate. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Skye. You’ll never need to ask. I’ll beat you to it every time.”
Yes. That’s what I need.
Perhaps because I just told him everything I want, I got clarity on what should go to the front of the line. I’ve been one orgasm up on him for days. I need to return the favor.
“Need help with that zipper, gladiator? Because if those pants aren’t down around your ankles before my knees hit the floor, I’ll tear them off you.” Well, that’s one way to get things started.
He huffs out a surprised puff of air, but I’ve never seen him scramble so fast.
I ease to my knees, my eyes on his cock the whole time, so I get a bird’s-eye view from all angles.
“That’s one pretty cock. Thrax.”
He looks confused and I realize he must think I’m talking about barnyard fowl.
“Phallus,” I correct. “That’s one thick, dark, pulsing, magnificent phallus. And oh, it’s dripping. Let me wipe it off for you.”
Leaning closer, I use my tongue to swipe the drop of pre-cum from his tip. My man doesn’t disappoint. He grips my shoulders— a bit too hard, though I love it—and moans at that swift little touch. Oh, sucking him off is going to be fun.
I flick my tongue in his little slit and he hisses with pleasure, then widens his stance. Okay. I’ll take that as a hint.
Bending lower, I lick down the underside of his cock in one long, slow line, then breathe on his balls. He locks his knees, loosens his death grip on my shoulders, and I assume he’s going to hang on for the ride of his life.