Maybe exhaustion had dulled my senses, blurring time until a fierce, burning ache ignited between my legs. It wasn't just pressure. It was a tide, relentless and rhythmic, like waves crashing and retreating, licking and lapping with an urgency I couldn't resist. The ache was clawing at my control.
My fingers clawed into the pillow, nails digging deep as the sensation swelled, unbearable now. I forced my eyes open, only to be greeted by the stark, unfamiliar white of the ceiling. My knees curled beneath the blanket, but beneath that warmth, something moved. Pulsing, sliding, alive with the same frantic rhythm.
I lifted myself on trembling elbows, peeling back the blanket, and there he was...Marcus.
His mouth worshipping the space between my legs, his devotion raw and tender, stirring a fire that utterly consumed me.
How the hell was this even possible?
We've already lost ourselves once in the shower's heat, then again by the sink, where he'd lifted me like I weighed nothing and took me hard from behind, rough and relentless. Then, when we'd finally dried off, he laid me down on the bed and buried himself into me, moving slower and softer like he was marking every inch of me.
I had blacked out the second I came, utterly spent.
And now, this.
"Marcus..." I moaned, my fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair beneath the blanket, gripping him like my life depended on it. "Please...Marcus..."
I didn't even know what I was begging for. To stop? To keep going? It didn't matter. All I wanted was to drown in this wildfire, to burn in this raw, endless pleasure, forever.
"I know I should let you rest," he murmured, his voice thick with restraint, low and rough, "but I find I fucking cannot."
He pulled away from between my legs, hovering just above me. His tongue replaced by fingers that slid in and out, teasing, stroking my clit with merciless care.
"You unravel me," he breathed, his voice deep and possessive as I writhed beneath him, desperate and undone. Again. "The way your body hold onto me...as though you could not bare to see me go."
His eyes darkened, burning with need and certainty. "I could not stop," he whispered, almost a growl now, as he added yet another finger, going deeper, harder into me. "I must have you again, Elena."
"Please."
That single word was all it took.
He buried himself inside me once again, the blanket slipping down to his hips as he moved. Slow, brutal, every inch agonizingly delicious.
His lips crashing onto mine, fierce and demanding. His tongue prying my mouth open, deepening the kiss as he drove into me.
My hands clenched against his chest, feeling the hard, slow thrusts that were anything but casual. It was like we were making love, raw and urgent, even if the words hadn't passed our lips yet.
"Elena..." he breathed, his voice low, reverent, trembling with something deeper than control as he pressed his forehead to mine. "I am yours to command. I would bend to every desire, every fleeting whim, if only to remain here, ensnared in this sweetness between your thighs. No force in this world will take you from me."
He pulled back, only to slam back inside me again. The rush was electric, every wet, desperate sound of our bodies colliding like a dark, intoxicating melody in my ears.
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
I closed my eyes, sliding my arms around his neck to pull him down, silencing whatever words, promises he was going to spill.
Marcus seemed to take that as permission. The way his restraint shattered, the armor of control he wore crumbled as his movements grew more urgent. Fierce, like the Roman discipline ad been ripped out of him, leaving only raw need driving him forward.
I shattered first screaming his name, my voice thankfully pressed deep against his chest. My body clenching fiercely around him as my nerves screamed, trembled. Not just from the pleasure, but from the overwhelming rush of everything I felt for him, raw and unguarded.
My breath hitched, ragged and desperate as I held onto him, lost in the fire burning between us.
He didn't slow down. If anything, he drove even harder, deeper, each thrust ripping through me. It was blinding. Tears filled my eyes from the overwhelming pleasure he wrought out of me until I felt him finally break apart with a low, guttural groan.
His head buried in the crook of my neck, his hot release flooding between us, spilling out in waves after waves that left me soaked and marked. A fierce and possessive claim, in the most undeniable way.
We stayed like that. Tangled, skin slick and heavy, our hearts pounding together in a rhythm only we could hear. The silence after was thick with something fierce, something unspoken despite the fierce, unbreakable promise whispered in the heat of our skin.
He gently twisted me until I was resting on top, my bare skin warm against his chest. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close with a quiet strength, one hand steadying me while the other carefully draped the blanket over us, cocooning us in a soft, comforting embrace.
"I have made my decision," he said, his voice cutting cleanly through the quiet.
I forced my eyes to stay open, lifting my gaze to him despite the heaviness that continuously tried to pull me under.
His hands rose to cradle my face, drawing me closer until the space between us vanished, our breaths mingling. "I will return to the world that forged me," he murmured, each word steady, resolute. "To avenge my men. To set right what was broken. To warn my Caesar of the betrayal that awaits him."
Something in my chest tightened. Sharp, unfamiliar, impossible to ignore.
"And I want you to come with me."
The words settled between us, heavier than the silence that followed.
I searched his face, as if I might find doubt there, but there was none. Only that unyielding certainty, the same force that had carried him through war, through time itself...and now, to me.
My fingers curled weakly against his tunic, my thoughts slipping through my grasp like water. This wasn't my world. He wasn't mine to follow.
And yet—
My heart betrayed me, aching in a way I didn't yet understand.
"I..." The word faltered on my lips, unfinished, uncertain.
His thumb brushed lightly against my cheek, not urging, not demanding, only waiting. As if he already knew...that whatever answer I gave, I was no longer untouched by him.