Page 18 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

M ax woke with his face buried in Volusia’s golden hair. Sunlight streamed into the room, and the sounds of early morning echoed from the tavern downstairs: murmurs of conversation, stools and tables scraping as they were pushed back to sweep the floor, footsteps on the stairs.

He sat up, gently disentangling himself from the sleeping woman beside him. Volusia was sleeping on her stomach, one slender arm raised to pillow her face, the ivory skin of her back left bare by the blanket.

His memories of last night were hazy, and he questioned if they were real, but his cock throbbed as he looked at her. It clearly remembered what being inside her had felt like.

Volusia stirred and rolled over, which exposed her beautiful tits to the sunlight. Unable to resist, he allowed his hand to cup one, his finger coaxing her pink nipple to harden.

She shivered and opened her eyes, giving him a shy smile. “Good morning.”

“It’s a very good morning so far.” He gave her nipple a playful pinch, which caused her to yelp and slap his hand away with a giggle.

He wanted nothing more than to stretch his body over hers and sink into her once more, but the morning light made him remember their responsibilities. Now that they were fed, rested, and had some coin to their name, they had to return to Rome as fast as possible, so their families would know they weren’t dead.

Volusia seemed to be of the same mind, for she swung her legs out of bed and crossed to where they’d dumped their clothes yesterday. She lifted her filthy dress with a frown. “We need new clothes.”

Max nodded. “Agreed. Let me see what I can do.” He threw on his stained and ripped tunic, grabbed a few silver coins, and headed downstairs.

An hour later, he’d bartered for a spare tunic and dress from the tavern keeper and his wife, and had also secured them breakfast, two mediocre horses, and a small supply of food for the journey.

By midmorning, they were off. “How long do you think it will take us to reach Rome?” Volusia asked as he guided the horses down the road away from Genua. Since Volusia wasn’t an experienced rider, Max kept hold of a lead attached to her horse. The brown gelding he rode was stocky, with a lumbering gait—nothing compared to Elephant’s graceful, fluid movements, but he would have to do.

“A little over a week, I think,” Max said. “Maybe eight or nine days. With luck, we’ll only be a few days behind Glabrio.”

“Good,” she murmured. He knew she must be thinking of her son, who would soon believe himself to be an orphan.

Max didn’t know what to say, so he spurred the horses into a canter, which removed their ability to speak.

When the light faded at the end of the day, they made camp in a grassy area a little ways off the road. Max built a fire while Volusia portioned out some of the bread, cheese, and dried apricots they’d packed.

The stars brightened the darkening sky as night fell. While they ate, he became entranced with the way the firelight flickered over the curves of her face, casting shadows across the hollows of her throat and collarbone. Despite wanting to reach Rome as soon as possible, he relished these few days that remained with Volusia. Their paths would diverge once they reached Rome. Volusia would return to her family, and Max to his—and more importantly, he’d set out to get Elephant back.

These could be the last days he’d ever spend with her, and he would savor every moment.

Volusia finished her last bite of bread and washed it down with a swig from the wineskin. She turned her head to meet his gaze, catching him in the act of scrutinizing her. He glanced away, embarrassed, but her finger caught his chin, turning his face back toward her.

She leaned over and brushed her lips against his. Desire sparked instantly at her touch. He slid a hand to cradle the back of her head, pressing their faces closer. Her mouth opened for him, and his tongue delved inside to meet hers.

He eased himself backward to lie on the hard ground, bringing her over him. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable on the uneven ground. Indeed, a twig immediately dug into his back, but he didn’t care.

“You want me like this?” she whispered as she rubbed herself over his already aching cock.

He groaned. His hands closed around her hips, pressing her even tighter against him. “I want you every way I can have you.”

Their hands grasped at each other’s clothes, tugging and bunching and shifting, and a few gasping breaths later, she sank down onto him. He closed his eyes in bliss as her tight warmth enveloped him. His hips angled upward, finding a deeper seat inside her. She braced her hands on his chest and wiggled her hips to settle herself more fully onto him. The movement made him gasp. She grinned and did it again, then struck up a gentle, rolling motion of her hips.

Max reached up to caress her breasts. She was still wearing her dress, bunched around her thighs. He tugged it off her shoulders, needing to see the play of firelight over all of her. The dress slid down easily, as the tavern-keeper’s wife had been stockier than Volusia, and soon her breasts were bare. The dancing shadows from the fire made her look otherworldly, like a forest nymph taking her pleasure from an unsuspecting traveler.

He tried to keep his wits about him as his lust mounted. She wasn’t a forest nymph; she was Volusia, and she’d made it clear she didn’t want to risk any consequences from their coupling. He grasped her hips to slow her movements, and slid a hand between her legs, where their bodies joined. She arched her back, pressing into his hand, as he rubbed the spot that gave her pleasure.

Doing this while he was inside her was novel and thrilling. He could feel every twitch and stir of her body, the tiny shocks and quivers that grew stronger as her climax approached. When she finally gave herself over to the tide of pleasure, the clenches of her body around him almost undid him, but he rode it out with her. He drank in the sight of her body bowing and shuddering on top of him, the sound of her gasping cries in the empty forest.

When it finally left her, he gathered her to his chest, their bodies still connected. She was warm and limp and breathless.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. She kissed his neck, drawing a groan from his lips.

He renewed his grip on her hips, his fingers digging into her plush bottom. He thrust upward into her in short, hard strokes. She moaned in his ear, her voice husky and rough.

When the pleasure became too great to withstand, he pulled her off of him, his hand replacing the clasp of her body. Exhilarating spasms wracked him, and he exploded over his stomach.

Volusia curled up against his side, heedless of the twigs and leaves that must be beneath her, and stroked his chest. He turned his head to kiss her, his mind fuzzy and reeling. He’d known pleasure with a woman before, and had picked up some useful tricks from past encounters that Volusia seemed to appreciate. But those encounters seemed the barest shadow compared to what he felt with Volusia. She was everything he could ever want, but he knew their time together was running out.

They made good time on the rest of their journey. Volusia enjoyed traveling with Max more than she had any right to, especially under their fraught circumstances. He was easygoing and confident, always ready with an amusing anecdote to take her mind off her worries.

As they proceeded south down the Italian coast, farms and villages appeared with more frequency, and they had a better chance of spending the night at an inn or in a kind farmer’s barn as opposed to camping by the road. Max asked anyone they encountered if a band of soldiers had passed through recently. At first, the answers indicated Glabrio and his men were four days ahead of them. As the days passed, the time decreased to three days, then two. Max and Volusia could make better time on their horses than the soldiers could, burdened with more supplies. Even so, there was no way they’d beat Glabrio to Rome.

“I think we’ll reach the city gates by midday tomorrow,” Max said as they sat in a hayloft. They’d paid a farmer for a meal and the use of his barn for the evening, and their horses were munching happily on hay in an empty stall below. It smelled of manure, but the shelter was welcome.

Anticipation swelled within Volusia, tempered by a guilty reluctance to part from Max. “That’s good.”

“I’ll take you to your parents’ house first. Then I’ll go to mine.” He toyed with a stray piece of hay. “What are you going to do about Petronax?”

Volusia had spent much of their journey strategizing how to approach the matter, and she had the rough outline of a plan. “I will convince my stepfather to take my evidence before the consuls. He has influence, as a former consul. They’ll have to take him seriously.” The outlandish accusations of a grief-stricken widow would be too easy to dismiss. She needed her stepfather’s voice, and she knew Rufus would be outraged at the danger she’d faced. “Your testimony will be useful as well.”

He nodded. “I’ll do whatever you need. And if you’re successful in bringing Petronax to justice? What then?”

“Of course I will do everything in my power to reinstate you in the army. You could get back everything you’ve lost.”

His gaze remained on the piece of hay he was twirling between his fingers. “And what of yourself?”

She swallowed hard. Talking of the future was more difficult than it should be. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I only know I’ll do whatever I must to secure Lucius’s future. Avitus wanted our son to follow in his footsteps. I’ll make sure he carries on his father’s legacy. I owe it to Avitus.”

At that, Max glanced up, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t owe anything to him.”

“Of course I do,” Volusia said, surprised at his gruff tone. “He was my husband, and the father of my child.”

“He wasn’t a good husband to you.” Max snapped the strand of hay, crushing it in his grip.

“He never mistreated me.”

“Just because he didn’t beat you doesn’t make him a good husband,” Max said. “He didn’t love you. You said as much yourself.”

“He was honest with me from the start.” Volusia’s chest tightened. She didn’t know where this argument had come from. There hadn’t been so much as a sharp word between them this whole time, and now they were arguing about her dead husband, of all things?

“He should never have married you. Not if he couldn’t love you as you deserve to be loved.”

“If he hadn’t married me, someone else would have. Either way it wouldn’t have been you.” The words came out more cutting than she intended, and she bit her lip, but didn’t take them back.

His jaw clenched, a muscle pulsing. “I’m well aware I wasn’t good enough for you.” In a surge of motion, he rose to his feet and paced to the opposite side of the hayloft, the boards creaking beneath him.

“Max, that’s not what I meant.” She followed him and put a hand on his arm. This was not how she wanted to spend their last night together. “We weren’t right for each other back then. You wanted to join the army. I wanted to make a good marriage and raise a family.”

He turned to face her, his eyes dark and serious. “And now? Are we right for each other?”

She took a sharp breath. She knew the answer in her bones, and it pained her. No, they still weren’t right for each other. They wanted different things. Max didn’t want to live in Rome, and if he managed to rejoin the army, he'd be forbidden from marrying anyway.

He must have seen the answer in her eyes, or maybe he felt it too, for his shoulders slumped.

But she couldn’t let him go, not yet. She reached up and caressed his cheek. “I only know about tonight, and tonight, I think we’re right for each other.” She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.

His arm encircled her waist, drawing her against his body. His other hand tilted her chin up, claiming her mouth with his. Desire surged within her. She angled her hips against his, feeling the ridge of his cock, already hard. The responsiveness of his body never failed to thrill her.

Together, they stumbled over to the makeshift bed, a few blankets atop a pile of straw. She sank to the floor first, hiking her dress up to bare her thighs. Max shucked off his tunic and braccae, then joined her. His body settled over her. One forearm braced against the straw as his other hand slid down to explore between her legs. She arched her back and opened herself to him.

His fingers brushed over her, slipping in the wetness that had quickly gathered. He pressed one finger inside her gently, while his thumb circled her most sensitive spot. “Fuck, Volusia,” he whispered against her neck. “I love how wet you get for me.”

She clung to his shoulders. He had learned her body well over the past week, and knew exactly how to touch her to make her senseless to anything but pleasure.

“It is for me, isn’t it?” he continued, his voice growing rougher, his breath hot on her skin. “Tell me it’s for me.” His fingers quickened, his gentleness giving way to a firm, demanding rhythm.

“It’s for you, Max,” she gasped. The muscles of her stomach contracted as a tight ball of yearning gathered in her core.

He lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth, and the swipe of his tongue sent her over the edge, careening into an abyss of pleasure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she buried her moans against his chest, though no one was around to hear but some sheep and a few horses.

He pressed her thighs open and slid his cock inside her as she was still quivering. His entrance caused a wave of renewed sensation that was almost painful in its intensity, but she welcomed it. She wanted to wring every last bit of passion from this final encounter.

He hooked a hand behind the crook of her knee and eased her leg forward, so he could push even deeper into her. She curled her other leg around his thigh, anchoring their bodies together. Slowly, he began to thrust, sinking into her over and over again with a delicious rhythm.

Too soon, he withdrew with a grunt and rolled onto his back. She grabbed his hand before it could close around his cock. “Wait,” she murmured.

“Volusia, I’m so close,” he groaned.

“I know.” She positioned herself over him. There was something she’d been wanting to try, but she’d been too shy until now. But there was no point holding back anymore.

She lowered her head until her lips brushed his straining cock.

A shudder ran through him. “Fuck,” he whispered.

She closed her lips around him and took him in, sliding her mouth down as far as she could. She wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this, but she’d heard enough salacious jokes from her married friends back in Rome that she understood the basics. She tried to replicate the rhythm he struck when he was inside her, hoping that would bring him pleasure.

His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding into her hair. His breathing grew harsh and shallow, with another gasped obscenity as she swept her tongue along his length.

“Volusia, if you don’t stop, I’m going to—oh, fuck,” he moaned as she tightened her mouth around him.

She didn’t stop. He’d been so careful, so thoughtful in their couplings over the past week, always interrupting his pleasure to ensure they wouldn’t risk conception, even when she’d abandoned herself to the throes of desire. At least once, she wanted to let him lose himself inside her.

His fingers curled around the back of her head. His hips bucked, pushing himself deeper into her mouth, and he let out a rough grunt. Her mouth filled with warm, salty liquid. She swallowed quickly, then when he released her head, reached for the water skin to wash it down.

He lay against their makeshift bed, eyes half-closed and a dazed look on his face. She curled herself next to him, stretching an arm across his chest. His arm came up to cradle her back, brushing down her spine in a soothing rhythm. “Volusia, that was…” He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.

She smiled, pleased with herself, and rested her head on his chest.

They were silent after that. Slowly, his breathing deepened, and she knew he’d fallen asleep. She savored the sound of his breathing, the warm solidity of his body beneath her, around her. She tried to commit everything to memory. Soon, these memories would be all she’d have left.