Seduced by the Gladiator(81)

He saw the real me, the one underneath. I had never before been so exposed to someone.

I loved it.

His hands slipped down to cover my breasts, and I arched into the touch. His fingers continued their journey down, tracing the stripes of my ribs, then clasped me around the waist. He lifted me as he stood, and even I, who had trained every bit as hard as he had for years, wondered at his strength. Moving the few steps to the small bed provided by the inn, he placed me down on it gently, making certain that my head was cushioned with a pillow.

I could feel the weave of the woolen blanket against my back. As he kneeled on either side of my hips and leaned over me, the bed dipped beneath his weight. I pressed a kiss to his rib cage.

Then he had my arms above my head, my wrists braceleted in his hands. His full weight was laid evenly out on top of me, and I loved the sensation of being pressed against his skin.

The flame of the candle flickered then and almost died before bursting back into life. It sent shadows flickering over the walls, and as I turned my head, I saw the shadows of our bodies as they moved slowly, back and forth. It was fascinating, seeing us—yet not us—as we moved. I watched his hand reach up to stroke the curve of my breast then I saw my knee bend. My leg lifted to wrap around his waist. I liked the look of that, as it was shown in shades of gray, so I wrapped my other one around him, too. He groaned as I tightened my grip and rocked my pelvis against his stomach.

He kissed me, his tongue probing mine in a momentary distraction, but I turned my head back to the wall immediately to see. His gaze followed mine, and saw what I saw.

We laughed together, breathlessly, and it did interesting things to the places where we were pressed together.

Christus drew me to my knees, and we knelt on the bed, struggling a bit to find our balance on the soft surface. We were perpendicular to our image on the wall, so the profile of our bodies was clearly visible. I liked how I looked there, my breasts exaggerated, my hair flowing loose. If I leaned forward, I could see the shaded outline of his cock. I could imagine from the visual that he was entering me from behind. My figure looked better than it ever had, reflected like that, and I was entranced by the image.

He let me look, encouraged it even, as he placed his hands over mine and guided them down over my breasts. He stopped for a moment to pluck at the peaks of the nipples hard enough that I could see their twin points in the shadow, before moving down farther to span my waist. He grasped my hips and moved a hand to the juncture of my thighs, using exaggerated movements so we could watch.

He pinched my clit hard between his thumb and forefinger, and I saw my chest move with the sharp breath I exhaled as the sensation hit me like a slap in the face. I moved back against him roughly, and the shadows were forgotten as I ground my ass back against his cock, feeling his coarse, curled hairs tickle at my cheeks.

I lowered myself onto all fours and wiggled my ass at him invitingly. I wanted him to fuck me hard from behind, right then. I could not wait any longer—I needed his heat.

Instead, he slapped my right cheek with the flat of his palm so hard it stung. I reared up backward against him, but he was stronger than I was. Using one hand flat against my back to hold me down, he continued to deliver hard, measured blows to the jiggling flesh of my bottom, over and over. My skin became more sensitive with each ruthless smack.

I had never considered that I might enjoy blows to my ass during sex. Christus understood me better than I had ever known myself, it seemed. As I cried out with the smacks that rained over my ass, my cunt, I realized that he did what he did so that I could relax, something that many people would not see.

I did not need to be in control with him. In fact, I found that I liked it better when he controlled me.

My ass was on fire, the skin red and hot, when he suddenly stopped and leaned across me. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but a part of me wondered what pleasures were in store next.

He had taken a bottle of oil and was pouring it into his hands. The smell of it, combined with the tang of our sex, mixed in the air, and as I sniffed, I squirmed.

The coolness of the sweet, cool oil against the inflamed heat of my ass made me gasp, and at the same time brought every nerve in my body alert. When he took his large hands and began to rub it in, the oil became warmer and my skin became cooler. I let out a satisfied sigh.

He rubbed at the fleshy fruit of my buttocks, exploring my crevices front and back. He used far too much of the viscous liquid, getting my skin slick and slippery. He paid special attention to the pucker of my ass, which must have been clearly visible to him at that angle.

When he retreated, I made a whimper of protest, wanting no pause in the sweet sensations.