26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

M arcus Fabius Varro

The beauty of the music did what nothing else has done before. It cut right to the heart of me. Not training in the blazing sun until my knees buckled. Not being forced to take the lives of men and beasts for the amusement of strangers. Not having to prostitute myself to earn my peculium, which I hoped would one day buy my freedom.

None of those things burrowed under my skin and grabbed my heart the way that simple instrument did.

“ Pulcher ,” I whisper, though the word beautiful doesn’t do that music justice.

“Now for something completely different.” Laura surges off her mattress as though there’s a fire under her. She swipes at the little box’s face and plays music so blaring, so fast-paced, my head spins.

A wide smile stretches across her face as she gyrates, keeping her distance.

“This is more modern by a hundred years than what I just played you. It’s called ‘Can’t Stop the Feeling’.”

She makes sharp clicks with her fingers and sways in no apparent direction, just movement for the sake of movement.

“Come on, Varro. Stand up and move. Just do what your body feels like.”

She translates the lyrics for me, but I soon learn that the meaning of the words is less important than the way the song makes me feel—happy. Soon, I join her and find the joy in letting my body move in the ways it wants. I’ve spent a lifetime forcing myself to do what is necessary, yet I’ve never before danced for pleasure.

Without her needing to touch the box, the next song plays. Some of the words make absolutely no sense, even when Laura translates, but I like that the song says to move, move, move. I find myself laughing out loud. When was the last time I did that?

When another song plays, Laura’s eyes flash wide and she says, “This is my housecleaning playlist. Um. Makes me want to dance, but…”

She’s blushing, which makes me want to understand these lyrics. It’s clear she’s not translating parts of the song.

“Tell me the words,” I demand. She’s made me curious.

Her dancing all but stops as she looks at her feet and mumbles, “ promiscue ,” promiscuous; “ volo futuere ,” I want to fuck you.

When her gaze rises to mine, her cheeks pinker than when the wind whipped at them earlier today, something shifts between us. I wouldn’t be a man if I hadn’t noticed Laura’s lush body and pretty face, but I’ve never thought of her with desire. Desire is something I stuffed deep down over a decade ago—well, two thousand years plus a decade ago. You can only be used by so many people before you turn off your body’s natural responses.

But here we are, overly warm from exertion, a sheen on our skin, and Laura’s face pink and lovely as she stares at my lips with interest. I keep dancing as I decide to test her. If she approaches me, she just wants to use me, like my first Domina and the one after that and the one after that. If we get to the end of the song and she’s still waiting for me to span the distance between us, to make the first move—then I will do just that.

Relief is written all over Laura’s face when the song ends and another song takes its place. This one has happy whistling, and the beat isn’t sensual like the last song. It’s only when she gathers the nerve to look at me again that I decide to follow through with my decision to kiss her. Her intense brown gaze is brimming with desire. It’s underscored when she licks her lips in a guileless way.

Crossing the distance between us, I dip my knees to get close enough to breathe her air, yet still, I hold back, waiting for some sign, though I don’t know what. There are so many differences between our cultures. That we’ve been sharing the same room should be scandalous enough, but she’s an unmarried woman and I am not a blood relative. I know things are done differently now, but I wouldn’t want to offend her; frightening her would be even worse.

It’s only when she closes her eyes and tips her head back that I know for certain she wants this kiss.

Her breath hitches as I lean in. Our bodies are close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her, even smell the sweetness of her skin. Reaching beneath the veil of her golden hair, I cup her nape, waiting one last moment to see if she has any intention of pulling away. Instead of showing hesitation, she leans toward me as though I’m a lodestone, indicating her willingness as she exposes the vulnerable column of her neck.

Arousal flashes through me—a hot spike. A feeling this compelling has never jolted through me before—and I have yet to touch my lips to hers. I don’t know if Laura’s a virgin, though from the music she listens to, I’d find it hard to believe she is. But there’s something innocent about her, so I decide to treat her as though this is her first kiss.

My lips brush hers, soft, just one stroke from left to right. Pulling back, I see her eyes are still closed, a soft smile on her face. I pluck her bottom lip with both of mine, noting the thrill shooting through my body at the intimacy of the act. Breathing in deeply, I catch a whiff of her scent under the odd smell of the heater and the remains of our dinner.

Over the sound of the music and our soft smacking kisses, I hear Laura’s pleasured sigh. Her arms reach around my neck to pull me closer. My body has been the object of others’ lust for decades. I’ve been used as a commodity and at times have turned the table to exploit those who thought they were taking advantage of me.

Never before have I been in an equal relationship.

Laura doesn’t own me, nor do I hold power over her. Although she may or may not be a virgin, I almost feel like one because this experience is so new. Our connection, so innocent yet passionate, is a revelation, giving more joy than our abandoned dancing.

She steps closer until our bodies press together. The feel of her soft breasts and the hard buttons of her nipples make me yearn to yank off her tunic and explore flesh I know will be smooth and warm. That can wait, though. I’m enjoying this kiss too much.

As our lips meet again, I drown in the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her pink, plump bottom lip. Her taste reminds me of the grapes I used to tend in Hispania. Moaning softly into her mouth, I deepen the kiss, needing more of this newfound ecstasy.

Our tongues slide together slowly, tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence as we both realize how right this feels. Her palms glide up and down my back, sending erotic jolts of need through all my bodily humors. Laura’s mouth tastes like a combination of home and new adventure. I could drown in this.

Wrapping one hand around her waist, I tug her closer, testing her response as my pulsing phallus presses against her soft belly. She doesn’t shy from me but isn’t so bold as to reach into my loincloth and grip me. The give and take of our encounter is perfect.

She pulls away far enough to say, “This is…” Her gaze holds mine, but her words falter.

“I know.” Though I may not know exactly what she was going to say, I know a thousand things. I know this is as thunderous for her as it is for me. I know neither of us wants this to end. I know I never expected this powerful connection. And I know one more thing. I deserve something wonderful and this just might be it.