Page 33

“ I have a question for you,” Lucretia said as she joined Felix for another dinner.

They’d eaten first this time and spent the whole dinner talking.

Felix had explained the route he and Marcus would take on their journey to Cyrene, coming up in three weeks, which led into a discussion of which wares were better acquired in Cyrene versus Alexandria.

But now, as their plates emptied, her mind turned to a different subject.

“Oh?” Felix said, tipping back his cup to drink the last of his wine.

“You have been excelling in your lessons,” she began with a smile.

He shot her an intolerably smug grin. “I have, haven’t I?”

She rolled her eyes. He was getting almost too good at pleasuring her, and he knew it. But this next thing she wanted to broach would no doubt require more instruction.

“I wondered if you might…that is, I’m not sure if…we haven’t yet tried…” She flushed as the words tangled themselves in her mind. Why was she getting so flustered? She was the experienced one. She should not be rendered stammering and hesitant by the simple mention of…

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

She took a deep breath and forced the words out. “If you wish to, er, attempt copulation, I think we could try that.”

His pupils dilated, darkening his eyes to charcoal. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not the virgin here,” she rejoined shortly. “It’s nothing to me, so of course I’m sure.”

It’s nothing to me . That was a lie. Doing this with Felix would be much more meaningful than she let on.

After all, Cornelius was the only man she had ever lain with, and that was a matter of protocol.

It was right and proper for a husband and wife to lie together, to share the marital bed and conceive children.

But if she were to lie with Felix, that would have nothing to do with propriety. It would be entirely about want, about desire. It would be something selfish, something for her alone.

“In that case,” Felix said, “I would be pleased to attempt copulation with you, Lucretia.” A small smile played around his lips. “Though I hope I’m suitably experienced now that the stipulation of ‘attempt’ is not necessary.”

“It’s a different skillset,” she warned him. “And for this, we may be better served in a bed. We’ve defiled these couches enough, I think.”

He snorted. “I’ve had to start taking my other meals in the atrium due to all the associations this room has taken on.” He rose from the couch and extended a hand to her.

She allowed him to help her to her feet. The firm press of his hand on hers sent a shiver down her arm. “I hope you won’t have to start sleeping elsewhere after this.”

With a chuckle, he led her from the room.

Felix’s heart pounded as he escorted Lucretia to his bedroom. How many times had he longed for her in his bed, thirsted to be inside of her, for her to fully consume him?

He could hardly believe it was about to happen. Surely, at any moment, she would change her mind, think better of her plan.

But they reached the door to his bedroom without incident, and then he was closing the door behind them and she was still next to him, her hand in his. She hadn’t disappeared in a puff of smoke or turned into a bird or otherwise escaped.

He lit a few lamps to brighten the space as she looked around.

There wasn’t much for her to see, as he spent little time in here: a comfortable bed against one wall, made up with a blue blanket and an assortment of pillows.

A chest of drawers by the opposite wall, and a table and single chair which he used to shave.

She inhaled deeply, then walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the top one, in which lay several neatly folded tunics. She reached in and withdrew a dried green sprig of herbs. “Marjoram,” she said, holding it up. “I was right. I thought I smelled that on you from time to time.”

She noticed my scent? “Do you like it?”

She brought the sprig to her nose and took another deep breath. “I can’t smell it without thinking of you.”

Warmth bloomed inside him.

She returned the marjoram stem to the drawer and closed the distance between them. She glanced up at his face, then down, then around the room, shifting from foot to foot. Was it possible…could she be nervous? Despite her indifferent words in the dining room?

If she was nervous, that made two of them.

As much as he wanted this, as much as desire was already coursing through him, he couldn’t seem to steady his breathing or quell the tremor in his palms. It wasn’t just the physical act that made his stomach tighten.

He felt as if he were about to give her something he’d never be able to retrieve, a piece of himself that would be hers forever.

It was an unaccustomed feeling; he’d made a career out of exchanging, negotiating, trading one thing for another. Money for ships, one shipload of goods for another. Never before had he given part of himself with no hope of getting it back.

“One thing first,” she said, meeting his eyes once more. “I have no wish to risk a pregnancy, so you’ll need to withdraw. I don’t expect you to master the timing right away, so for the first few times, I will be atop you. We will go slowly until you’ve acquired the necessary control.”

Her words were as brisk and pragmatic as when Siro delivered a briefing, but the image of Lucretia riding him, soft thighs clasping his hips, her ample breasts bouncing, sent a burst of heat straight to his cock. “Very well.”

He couldn’t wait another moment before sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “Does copulation usually begin with kissing?” he murmured, lowering his head to the curve of her neck.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “It can.” Her voice trembled.

He kissed her neck, sucking the silky skin of her throat into his mouth until she gasped.

He pressed his body harder against her, which caused them to stumble back, until the wall stopped them.

She knotted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head up, seeking his mouth.

Their lips met in a messy tangle. She wrapped one leg around his, curving her body along his with delicious friction.

“Does copulation usually involve…” He paused to catch his breath, dizzied from the heady pleasure of kissing her. “A wall?” He wasn’t entirely sure how the logistics would work, but his body was issuing a firm demand for him to ruck up her dress and sink into her then and there.

She giggled. “That’s an advanced technique.”

“What about…” Next to them was his chest of drawers, so he grabbed her around the waist and set her atop it. “A chest of drawers?”

She giggled again, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Let’s master the bed first.”

“As you wish.” He lifted her from the chest and carried her over to the bed. He dumped her onto the mattress on her back, which earned him an indignant squeal.

He covered her mouth with another kiss, cutting off the sound, as he climbed on top of her.

His hands worked efficiently to strip her of her dress, and a few moments later she was lying naked in his bed.

He sat back on his heels to survey the sight, burning the image into his memory.

A flush crept from her cheeks over her neck and collarbone, echoing the pink of her nipples.

She looked as tempting as a nymph who had somehow found her way into a mortal’s bed.

He did away with his tunic, tossing the bundle of cloth to the floor. Her gaze roved over his bare body, an amber heat lighting in her hazel eyes.

Her hand traced down her stomach to brush the reddish curls between her legs. “You’ll need to use the skills from our previous lessons to make me ready.”

He grinned, hoping he didn’t look too much like a cat presented with a fat, shiny fish. “With pleasure.”

He slid a hand down her thigh, and her legs parted for him, revealing those plush pink folds already shimmering with moisture. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was well on the way to being ready without a single touch.

But he would not neglect such a pleasurable duty. He dragged his fingers over her, relishing how she twitched and squirmed. “You want to be ready…here?” He pressed one finger inside her.

Her head fell back with a sigh. “Yes.”

“Ready to take my cock?” He slid his finger deeper, then added another.

She let out a soft moan. “I never taught you to talk that way.”

“Some things don’t need to be taught.” He worked his fingers in and out, feeling how her tight muscles slowly relaxed around him. What would that warm, wet heat feel like wrapped around his cock? It seemed inconceivable that he might be moments away from finding out.

He spared a moment to briefly compare the thickness of his fingers to that of his cock, then slid a third finger into her.

“Oh!” Her hips flexed, and he matched the movement, finding the rhythm she liked.

With his free hand, he stroked the sensitive bud at the top of her sex. “Am I meant to make you climax before the act?”

“Not necessarily.” Her voice was breathless, the words garbled.

“Good.” He moved his fingers in a few light, teasing circles.

“I want you desperate. Aching. I want to feel what it’s like to be inside you when you’re frantic with want.

” Like me. He increased the pace and pressure of his movements.

Her muscles gave a spasmodic twitch around his fingers, and he slowed.

“Felix!” she moaned. “I’m ready. I’m ready now.”

He gave her quim a pensive look. “I’m not sure. I think you require more preparation. You taught me not to rush, remember?” He played her with his fingers again, driving her pleasure high and then backing off when he felt her muscles begin to tense.

She let out a frustrated hiss. “I’ve taught you much too well.”

He chuckled, but allowed her to sit up.