Chapter XXI Lela
XXI
LELA
It was my turn to take control. Trajan removed his towel and lay back against his pillow, lacing his fingers behind his head.
I lifted myself over him, straddling his cock.
My heart raced, but not with fear. It was nowhere in this room.
Trajan watched me. So did his dragon as I slid down and rocked my cunt over the length of his cock.
His eyes rolled closed on a groan, pulsing his hips gently in rhythm with mine.
I rocked my cunt over his cock, soaking whatever fabric was between us. His grip tightened in my hair.
“Lela,” he breathed—a warning.
His control was slipping, or perhaps gone already. Rather than wonder at the odd realization that I wanted this man inside me, I simply acted.
Reaching down between us, I lifted the hem of the towel out of the way. I stared down, pausing at the sight of him. He was beautifully made. Then I gripped the base.
“Fuck,” he muttered, thrusting up into my hand.
Raising myself above him, I held his gaze as I sank down, taking him inside me. I whimpered at the intrusion, his gaze holding mine, his fingers curling into the flesh of my bare hips under the folds of my dress. The flood of pleasure shocked me, my mouth agape at the foreign sensation.
I’d forgotten what this was like. It had been so very long.
I rose up then sank down again, noting his pupils had slit, his dragon purring a growl.
“Ah.” I released a small cry as I seated myself fully on his thick cock.
His grip on my hips tightened, holding me still. Sitting up, he opened his mouth on one nipple and sucked, flicking his tongue around the tight nub. I squirmed, wanting to move.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, scraping his teeth against my sensitive nipple.
I curled one hand into his muscular shoulder, the other sliding into his hair, holding his head to my breast.
“I want you to move,” I whispered.
He ignored me and tended to my other breast, suckling and flicking, teasing me into a mess of arousal. I tried to rock my hips, but he kept me still, unable to lift up.
“I want it,” I confessed in the dark. Now I was the one pleading.
“What do you want?” He breathed against the base of my throat, kissing up my neck, the bristles of his beard tickling my skin.
It felt so good, I could hardly believe it, my heart hammering fast behind my breast.
“I want it hard and fast,” I told him.
“You need it soft and slow,” he rebutted.
I made a sound of frustration, pulling on his hair. “You’re supposed to let me lead.”
“Trust me,” he murmured.
He then lifted and laid me back on the mattress then eased between my legs, sinking slowly back inside me. He gripped my thighs, spreading them wider. Gently, he pulled out and slid back inside me. It was a slow, sensual grind.
“Faster,” I pleaded, scraping my blunt nails at the bare skin of his nape, the tenderness of his handling too much for me.
“No,” he answered, cradling the back of my head as he lowered his mouth to mine. “You need this,” he said, “just the way I’m giving it to you.”
It was agony and torture and unimaginably lovely.
“It’s too much,” I confessed, my voice cracking as I met his slow fucking, rocking my hips in a circle, matching his tempo.
He stared into my eyes, recognizing the tender emotions I could no longer hide.
“No, it’s not,” he whispered against my mouth. He nipped at my bottom lip then slid his tongue there. “You need a gentle fuck, Lela.” His voice deepened like a rough caress. “And I need you. So desperately.”
I cried out, both in frustration and pleasure, the mounting sensation of a climax feeling wonderfully new with Trajan.
“Yes,” I breathed against his mouth, the short bristles of his beard rasping against my lips and cheek as he swept kisses across my cheeks and back to my mouth again.
We moved in the same rhythm. I welcomed his kisses. I hadn’t been kissed since Jardani. Nor had I taken another man willingly into my body since him. I expected to feel remorse and guilt, but there was none of that. Only the desire to reach the end together.
I wanted my own pleasure, but I also wanted to take him with me. I wanted to see his face when he came inside me. It was a fevered, all-consuming coupling, and yet slow, sensual, and passionate.
He was right. I needed it this way. Yet it hurt in a painful, achingly sweet way.
“I’m coming,” I whispered against his lips.
That familiar purring rumble vibrated in his chest. He scooped one arm across my lower back and pulled me tighter, closer, thrusting deeper.
I cried out at my climax, arching my neck. He kissed and licked my throat, scraping with sharp teeth. Then he thrust one more time and held, his cock swelling as he spent inside me.
How could I want this from a Roman, I wondered? There was no remorse, no regret. Was it simply Trajan himself that I wanted? Because he’d offered some kindness in sheltering me, the only man in Rome who’d protected me. Or was it even more than that?
He panted against my throat, both of us breathing hard. Slowly, he eased out of my body and fell to my side, pulling the covers up over us. I turned to face him on my side as well, both of us panting.
He stared, his expression serious when he said, “I feel an urgency to touch you, to be sure you’re all right.”
“Because of what happened at Fausta’s?” I asked. “I’m perfectly fine from that.”
“Not from that. From having sex with you.”
I blinked away the prick of tears that his tenderness caused. He’d simply made me a storm of emotions. For years, I felt nothing, and now I felt everything.
I reached over and held out my hand, palm up. He pressed his large palm over mine, lacing our fingers, heaving out a sigh.
I couldn’t help noting that I enjoyed the sensual intimacy of simply lying here and holding hands. Another wall crumbled away from my heart.
“A reunion,” I thought aloud, watching the light pattering rain on the terrace. “I didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “What reunion?”
“Something Fausta said before the guards came. She had a sort of premonition that I’d have a reunion. I was hoping that meant I’d see you again,” I confessed, squeezing his hand.
“You have no idea how that warms my heart to hear you say that, darling.” He smiled. “And you’re sure you’re all right after today?”
“It’s only instilled in me that I want to kill Caesar,” I admitted. “He doesn’t deserve to live for all that he’s done.”
“I know. So do I. But it must be done by stealth. He may think himself stronger now that he’s found out about Fausta, now that she’s dead. But he doesn’t have you. And I can promise”—he brushed his thumb over the back of my hand—“he never will.”
I believed him. “We don’t have a way out of the city.”
“We will. I’ll get you out.”
“You will? Personally? You won’t hand me off to someone this time?”
I didn’t want to take my chances with anyone else. And though I couldn’t admit it yet, I didn’t want to be parted from him.
“I didn’t hand you off to just anyone, Lela. I trusted Fausta. Rightfully so.”
“Until the praetorians came for her.”
“Do you mean the guards that you apparently sliced to death?”
“I didn’t do it. The guards did it to each other,” I said flippantly, knowing I sounded like him.
He chuckled, dipping his head closer. “The guards who were told to kill each other by a powerful bloodsinger.”
I narrowed my gaze and opened my mouth, but he stopped any more protests with a kiss. I melted against him and nipped his lip, kissing him with aggression that dragged a growl from his throat.
Suddenly, he broke off and lifted onto an elbow, staring at the bedchamber door.
“Who is it?” I hissed. “Alba?”
His nostrils flared. “No. Koska. I was expecting him. Get dressed.”
He shot out of bed and slipped on a tunic hanging over a chair then headed for the door, stopping Koska in the hallway in hushed tones. I quickly scurried toward his wardrobe and dressed, knowing Trajan already had a plan in motion.