Free Seduced by the Gladiator by Lauren Hawkeye Page B

my breath caught in my throat with anticipation. With his eyes on my own, drinking in every nuance of my expression, he inched his fingers up, then up again, trailing them over my inner thighs as the muscles beneath quivered.
    I inhaled sharply when those fingers grazed over the heated skin between my legs. Christus paused as the noise, again giving me time to say no.
    I waited a long moment, my innermost thoughts whirling through my head in a great rush. Sex had been tied up with violence for so long, it had made me feel cheap at best. The idea that I could embrace it for pleasure was strange and oddly thrilling, if I could but take that leap.
    My eyelids lowered, I looked down from the edge of the bath where I still perched, looked at the god of a man who was rising out of the water at my feet. He was golden and sleek and beautiful, and he wore an expression of reverence and of need that looked to be nearly painful.
    It was that exact combination that pushed me that last step. With an exhalation of the breath that I had been holding, I covered his wrist with my hand, holding his hand in place even as I arched my hips to meet his touch.
    “You are certain that we will not be disturbed?” I could not quite believe that I was prepared to accept his word when he nodded—the Lilia of even a day before would never have taken anything at face value, would have had to see for herself.
    But this man inspired trust. Trust, as well as lust.
    For the first time since I had come to the ludus, I decided to embrace the sensations.
    Sliding my hand from his wrist down his arm, over his broad shoulder and up, I burrowed my fingers in the wealth of blue-black hair that was spiked with dampness. I fisted the strands, tugged gently, and closed my eyes, waiting for the touch.
    “Oh. Oh.” I could hear the surprise in my voice as Christus began to gently stroke through the soft hair that covered my cleft. His breath hissed out as I shifted, my hips moving into the touch without thought on my part.
    “Be still.” His voice was firm, and I blinked, part of me not sure that I liked to be told what to do. But if those light, stroking touches felt so good, what other pleasure could he bring to me?
    The featherlight touches increased in pressure just the slightest bit, and then a bit more. I could feel the blood rushing to my pussy, causing terrible excitement to gather there. I tensed with the onslaught, and when he finally worked one finger between my moist folds, grazing it over my clitoris, I gasped, then clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the noise.
    Christus stilled his finger, though he did not remove the pressure. As I perched on the edge of the tub, I stared down at him with panic, both craving more of his touch and terrified that we were about to be found out because of my exclamation.
    He shifted as he knelt in the water of the tub, and the liquid splashed gently.
    “The men are all at their meal. And Darius watches them.” The words were murmured against my inner thigh. Though I was still nervous, the possibility of the pleasure that I had been promised won out.
    “I—I don’t—”
    Christus began to move his finger again, now avoiding my clit, deliberately I thought. Instead he inserted the tip inside my heated channel, groaning aloud when he found me wet and wanting.
    Embarrassed, I ducked my head, feeling my cheeks turn the red of fruit. With his free hand he reached up to stroke over the curve of my cheek, at the same time working his other finger in and out of me just that small bit.
    I could not pretend that I was not excited, even as I continued to blush.
    “It pleases me to bring someone as pure as you pleasure.” When he called me pure, my head snapped back, my eyes wide open, emotions running hot and heavy through my veins.
    “I am not anywhere close to pure, Christus. I thought you understood this.” Memories came with the words, and I fought them away, unwilling to let them taint the moment.
    Christus smiled