Page 42 of City of Secrets and Shadows
“Or what?” I taunted, curling my fingers just enough to make her gasp. “What will you do, Livia?”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ll find someone who will.”
The possessive rage that surged through me was instantaneous and overwhelming. I growled against her flesh, no longer teasing but devouring, my mouth claiming her sweet pussy with bruising intensity. Her back arched off the bed as I sucked her clit between my lips, my fingers pumping into her with renewed purpose. Her reaction was immediate — thighs tensing around my head, a choked gasp torn from her throat.
I drove her relentlessly toward release, feeling her inner muscles clench around my fingers as she approached the precipice. This time, I wouldn’t deny her. This time, I wanted to watch her shatter.
I felt the precise moment when she surrendered to it — her body going rigid, inner muscles clamping down on my fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She bit down on her own fist to muffle her cries, her other hand gripping my hair painfully tight as she rode out her release against my mouth. My cock twitched rock hard as the flood of sweetness went in my mouth. Fuck, but I loved the taste of her pussy. I didn’t want to stop, I wanted to devour her over and over again.
Livia’s fingers untangled from my hair, pushing at my shoulders. “Septimus, stop—”
With a growl of frustration, I pressed one last kiss to her centre, drawing a stifled gasp from her lips before I pulled away. “This isn’t finished,” I murmured, my voice a dark promise as I rose from between her thighs and left the room, leaving her panting and trembling on her bed. I’d be back.
I closed the bedroom door behind me, my body still thrumming with arousal, the taste of Livia lingering on my lips. The satisfaction of claiming her, of hearing her admit she belonged to me, battled with the frustration of our interrupted encounter. My cock strained painfully against my trousers, demanding relief I couldn’t yet grant it.
“Septimus.” The deep voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.
Tarshi stood by the window, arms crossed over his chest, his unnerving black eyes narrowed in suspicion.
The half-breed gladiator’s presence in our quarters was unwelcome at the best of times. Now, it was infuriating.
“Where’s Octavia?” I asked, making no attempt to hide my irritation.
“She’s gone to find some thread to fix a hem in the stola for tonight.” His gaze dropped deliberately to the obvious bulge in my trousers, then back up to my face. His lip curled slightly. “I stayed behind to ensure Livia wouldn’t be alone.”
“How thoughtful,” I said, moving to the washbasin in the corner. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to regain some semblance of control. “As you can see, I have the situation well in hand.”
“Do you?” Tarshi’s voice was dangerously soft as he approached. “Is that what you have in hand, Septimus?”
I straightened, turning to face him. “Careful, half-breed. You forget your place.”
“And you forget yours.” He stepped closer, invading my space with deliberate provocation.
“What happens between Livia and me is none of your concern.”
“It becomes my concern when it endangers our mission.” Another step closer. “When it endangers her.”
I could smell him now — leather and sword oil and something that spiked my senses in an annoying way.
The proximity should have been threatening. Instead, it sent another pulse of heat to my already aching cock. I hated my body’s betrayal, hated that I noticed how his tunic clung to the muscled planes of his chest, how his lips formed words with such precise disdain.
“Nothing endangers Livia more than her own recklessness,” I countered, refusing to step back despite the uncomfortable awareness growing between us. “I’m simply ensuring she has... proper motivation to be cautious.”
Tarshi’s eyes flashed with anger. “Is that what you call it? You were in her bedroom. You still reek of her.”
The possessive fury in his voice confirmed what I’d long suspected. “Jealous, Tarshi?” I taunted, a cruel smile curving my lips.
His hand shot out, gripping my throat with enough pressure to warn but not harm. The sudden contact sent another unwanted surge of heat through my body. “I have something you will never have, Septimus,” he growled, his accent thickening with emotion. “Honour.”
I laughed, the sound strained against his grip. “Honor doesn’t warm your bed at night.”
His gaze dropped again to my still-evident arousal, his lip curling in disgust that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Or yours, by the looks of things. Maybe you’ve swapped sexual service from Drusus to Livia, and she has no desire to tend to your discomfort.” He grinned. “Or maybe it excites you to have my hand around your throat?”
“What excites me,” I said, deliberately pressing forward against his grip, “is knowing she chose me. That even now, she’s lying in that bed, her thighs still wet from my mouth, thinking about when I’ll return to finish what we started.”
Something dangerous flashed in Tarshi’s eyes. His fingers tightened momentarily around my throat, then released as he stepped back, as if touching me had suddenly become intolerable. “You don’t deserve her.”
“Perhaps not,” I agreed, rubbing my throat where his fingers had been. “But I have her nonetheless. She belongs to me now, Tarshi. She said so herself.”
