Page 55 of Taming the Eagle

And to his delight, Fenella groaned and writhed, soft mewing sounds erupting from her now. Her hands clenched his shoulders, her nails biting through the material of his tunic.

“Aquila,” she moaned.

“Justin,” he corrected her before gently nipping a nipple with his teeth. Fenella’s sharply drawn breath caused his belly muscles to clench in excitement. Gods, he loved the sounds she made.

He wanted to hear more—much more.

Fenella reclined against the couch, bracing her arms along the back of it. Her fingers clutched the edge, digging into the wood.

Reaching up, Aquila pulled the thong off the end of her braid. He undid her hair, letting it fall in heavy, rippling waves over her shoulders. He then focused his attention once more upon her breasts.

His mouth, the way he was suckling her, made her need to grab onto something—and when his lips trailed down the valley between her breasts to her belly, her grip clenched tighter still.

An instant later, she was spread-eagled before him, completely naked while he was still fully clothed.

Aquila stared down at her, at the nest of soft brown hair between her thighs. His lips parted, his chest rising and falling swiftly. And then he lowered himself fully to the floor and leaned forward, his head nestling between her spread thighs.

Fenella’s choked cry filtered across the tablinum. Fortunately, the doors were closed. Even so, anyone walking by on the portico outside would have heard her.

She had little time to dwell on this before the skillful flick of his tongue drove all thought from her mind. And when he suckled her there, as he had her nipples, another ragged cry ripped from her.

“Aquila!”

“Justin.” Once again he corrected her, before his hands slid under her backside, lifting her up against him. His lips and tongue then continued their sensual assault.

The Maiden forgive her, it was too much.

Fenella bucked against him, shattering against his mouth. A delicious, throbbing pleasure rippled out from her loins, breaking over her in waves.

For a few moments, she hung there, panting, until the tide receded and she was capable of rational thought once more. And then her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked at him.

Aquila was watching her with a smoldering look that made her belly flutter.

Anticipation quickened her breathing. Of course, this was just the beginning.

Pushing herself up from where she’d slipped down on the couch, Fenella reached for Aquila.

Their mouths collided, their kisses wet and wild, while her hands clawed at his clothing. She wanted him as naked as she was.

Aquila obliged, undoing his belt and tossing it aside—as she had with her own—before pulling up his tunic and shrugging it off. Underneath, he was naked, save for a tightly fitting loincloth.

Fenella’s attention slid down his heavily muscled torso to his groin, and her mouth went dry.

The loincloth fascinated her, as did the huge bulge in it. Cruthini warriors didn’t wear anything under their trews. Kahina had told her that this skimpy undergarment was called a ‘subligaculum’. Indeed, Kahina wore something similar—she’d even given Fenella one to wear, although she only bothered with it when her moon flow was upon her.

However, the sight of the filmy undergarment encasing Aquila’s loins made her breathing quicken with excitement. Reaching out, she traced a finger over the silky material.

It left nothing to the imagination. She could feel the heat of his skin through it, and as she traced her finger up the length of him, the engorged outline of his rod became even more evident.

Murmuring encouragement, she caressed him, from root to tip, noting the damp patch that now soaked through the straining loin cloth. Her touch was clearly exciting him. Glancing up, she marked that Aquila had clenched his jaw, and he was watching her, his eyes hooded. His chest now rose and fell as if he’d been running.

Slowly, as if she were unwrapping a gift, Fenella peeled back his loin-cloth before pushing it down his thighs.

Aquila’s shaft sprang free, thick and eager. Its head was slick with his need, and when she wrapped her fingers around his girth, she marveled once more at his size and the exquisite silkiness of his skin. Sliding off the couch, she lowered herself, taking the head of his rod into her mouth. The salty, musky taste of him made a groan rise in her throat, and a moment later, she was working him with her hand while her tongue explored the swollen tip.

Growling her name, Aquila tangled his hands in her hair, urging her on.

And then, suddenly, he wasn’t.