44. Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Four
S kye
How could I not love giving that man head? He was so enthralled, so expressive. And the noises of pleasure he made when he came? Someone should make a recording of that. It would go platinum in no time.
I want to cuddle. I do. If I were a better person, I’d spend more time kissing his chest and grazing my nails up and down his thigh. But I’m dripping wet. I swallowed all his cum. All the liquid on the sheets? That’s from me. Sucking him off made me desperate.
So I’m not shy about playing with his cock the moment I see the first twitch. It doesn’t take long before the little swordsman is ready to play.
Of course, Thrax has other ideas. He bullies his way between my thighs and laps at me, holding nothing back, not his sighs, or his declarations, “Ambrosia. Nectar of the gods.”
His tongue arrows onto my clit and he proves he has an excellent memory when he uses the same technique that got me off last time. This time, I don’t even see it coming. One moment my desire is building, just like it does at home with my vibrator. I’m predictably about halfway there as I pull my legs up, soles on the mattress, and begin to feel little quivers deep in my pelvis.
The next moment, my orgasm blasts me apart, arriving so hard and fast and without warning that I scream. Not one of those demure little screams either, where you don’t even have to worry about waking the neighbors. This was loud enough to be heard at the Colosseum. Maybe even the Parthenon in Greece.
I gasp and fall back on the bed, trying to gather enough strength to say words. I’m not surprised when his smug, handsome face peeks up at me and he laughs.
“Try harder next time. I don’t think they heard you back in Switzerland.”
I should call him names. At the very least, I should scold him. Instead, I take a deep breath, consult my pussy to see if it’s ready for another round, and then sweetly demand, “Fuck me.”
His eyes flare, and he growls. This big, huge, gladiator actually growls! Luckily, not at me, but in agreement that we should definitely fuck.
Then his predator face disappears from one second to the next and he looks like the man who whittled a dolphin for me and taught me to sword fight and told me I was prettier than all the flowers on Palatine Hill.
“I want to do it like this, love.” He climbs between my thighs. “I want to watch your face when I enter you. I want to see you when you come apart on my cock.”
I nod, too overcome with love to speak.
“I want to whisper in your ear and hear you gasp. Maybe you’ll even say my name.”
He grips his cock, notches it against me, and rubs back and forth, getting himself slick to make it easier for me to take that gorgeous, giant gladiator cock. Then he slides in. Oh, I love this part, that first entry, when you have to breathe deeply to take the stretch .
But he isn’t going for the gold, isn’t in a race. He’s slow as the sunrise peeking over the horizon, watching every micro movement on my face as I take him. I thought only women got emotional at times like this, but my man, my big, strong man has nothing to prove to anybody. He lets me see him, see his vulnerability and joy and ecstasy as he does something he never dared dream he’d do—make love to a woman who thinks he hung the sun and moon and stars.
He finally hits bottom, is in all the way to the hilt. We’re both startled when we hear the quiet slap of flesh on flesh.
“Perfect, Thrax from Thrace.”
“Perfect, Skye from America.”
He doesn’t move, and I want to cry because the moment is so beautiful. Our gazes connect as we share the unexpected gift we’ve been given. Then he nods his head and begins to move. I watch it all on his face—his pleasure, his awe, his wonder, his appreciation, his love. It’s so beautiful I could die happy after seeing it.
He speeds up, canting his hips, watching my face, listening closely, and when he gets the angle just right, I reward him with a surprised little “oh!” as my eyes flash wide. He grins, lowers his body closer to mine, and goes to town.
With every thrust, every withdrawal, he glides along my clit with that thick, veined cock, massaging my channel. I’m clutching his back, feeling the remnants of his scars, losing my focus for a minute as I ache for him, for his pain. Then I picture his tattoo instead. His Goddess, the story of his life—the ups and downs of the Wheel of Fortune, and now his reward—us.
I clutch his meaty ass, helping him press against me even harder as we race to the finish line. He speeds up and hammers into me. Perfect. I’m about to fall over the edge but have to tell him everything I can manage to say even though my brain isn’t fully online.
“Thrax. I love you. You’re—” My body takes over as I come with the force of a thunderclap. I can’t breathe for a moment, then gasp in a gulp of air as every muscle in my body spasms and releases. I gasp again as my hands clench, my toes tighten, and all I can do is scream as my lids clamp so tightly closed that tears burst from my eyes.
Thrax thrusts harder. Once, twice, three times and then he grunts his pleasure, his hips stuttering as he releases inside me.
“Beloved.” How he managed words through that orgasm is beyond me, but he held my gaze as he said it.
He falls to the bed at my side and kisses me. Dozens of kisses are exchanged as we fight to be the giver, then allow ourselves to be the receiver. Back and forth, we conduct our wordless power exchange as to who can give the most kisses.
Soon, we’re laughing and rolling in the remaining sheets—most have already fallen on the floor.
“You’re the best!” I tell him, hoping people three floors up can hear me. They may not know who’s saying it now, but if they see us in the lobby tomorrow, shit-eating grins on our faces, they’ll know.
“No. You’re the best!” He says in English as he presses my shoulders to the mattress and kisses and nips me until I’m gasping.
Then, as if by prearranged signal, we both get serious and simply gaze into each other’s eyes.
“Do I really get this, Skye? Get you? Get happiness?”
What exactly is he asking? We just said our first I love yous a few hours ago. Is he asking for forever? I can’t! It’s too soon. But… why not?
“No, Thrax. You don’t get this.” He looks so hurt that I’m quick to finish my sentence. “ We get this. We get this for as long as we want.”
I don’t say the word forever, but I’m damn sure thinking it.