Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(96)

“No, what’s interesting is that this scene where a robed mystery woman enters the dungeon and tries to talk her way into the gladiator’s good graces so she can harvest his superior genes for her future child takes place in the first chapter. What the bloody hell happens in the rest of the book?”

“More of that. Except later, he breaks out of the dungeon to find her because he’s madly in love with her by then.”

Quinn looks down at the book. “She had him blindfolded by the guards before she entered the cell. How did he know who to look for?”

“By the sound of her voice.”

He glances back up at me, and now his tone is droll. “I see. So he breaks out of a dungeon to search all of Rome for a woman he’s never seen before. Excellent plan. Your gladiator is an idiot.”

I feel unreasonably smug to inform him otherwise. “But he found her, so he’s not.”

Exasperated, he says, “How did he find her? Telepathy?”

“He was in the market and overheard her talking to the tomato vendor.”

When he stares at me in disbelief, I smile. “So, Maximus Aurelius Tiberius…how strong is your sperm?”

His eyes sharpen. His energy charges. I swear I see his canines elongate.

Setting aside the books on the bar counter, he says gruffly, “If you want to harvest it, Antonia Octavia Flavius, you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

I sashay toward him, holding his predatory gaze. “But I brought this special terra cotta urn to collect your seed in, gladiator. I’m married. I simply couldn’t betray my wedding vows.”

As soon as I’m within arm’s length, Quinn reaches out and grabs me. He pins my arms behind my back, pulls me against his body, and stares down at me with blazing eyes.

“If your husband is too old to fuck you properly, your wedding vows are already broken.”

I coyly bat my lashes. “But sir, I’m a lady of the upper class. I could never fornicate with a mere soldier. A vicious criminal. A man condemned to death for his crimes.”

Looking at my mouth, he licks his lips. “You can’t have my seed unless you do.”

When I wriggle against him, rubbing my breasts against his chest, he growls. His eyes darken. His growing erection presses against my hip.

I’m not sure who likes this game better, him or me.

I say breathlessly, “You’re supposed to be tied to a chair and blindfolded.”

He looks around the room. Releasing me, he strides over to a desk on the opposite wall and pulls the chair out from under it. He sets it in front of me, sits down on it, whips off his tie, and holds it out.

When I take it, he rips off his suit jacket and dress shirt and flings them to the floor. Stripped to the waist, he sits there staring up at me in fiery intensity with his chest rising and falling and all the tendons in his neck standing out.

“Hands behind your back, gladiator.”

He instantly clasps his hands behind the chair.

I might lose consciousness from excitement.

Stepping behind him, I wind the tie around his head, covering his eyes, and knot it in back. I bend down and kiss his neck, whispering into his ear, “Will you be a good gladiator and keep your hands behind you, or do I need to find something to bind them with?”

“I’ll be good,” he says, practically panting.

As a reward, I kiss his neck again, gently biting him, then licking the sting away. He groans softly, fidgeting.

When I straighten, I feel light-headed. I walk around to his front and straddle his lap. Between my legs, his erection is enormous.

Scratching my nails lightly over his shoulders, I whisper, “You’re the most gorgeous gladiator I’ve ever seen. So strong. Look at all these beautiful muscles.”

He leans forward, blindly hunting for my mouth. I give it to him, thrilling at the animal sound he makes when our lips meet. We kiss deeply, until my nipples are aching for his mouth and the throbbing between my legs is unbearable.

I stand, unzip my dress, and shimmy out of it. I remove my panties and kick off my heels. Then I kneel down in front of Quinn and unbuckle his belt.

When I’ve got his zipper down, his hard cock is proudly jutting out from the top of his briefs.

“Ooh, gladiator. You’re as talented as I’ve heard.”

I spread my hands over his thighs and lick the engorged crown.

He moans, flexing his hips. All the muscles in his stomach clench.

I take his cock in both hands and lick it all over, swirling my head around the crown and sucking on it, then trailing my tongue up and down the pulsing vein underneath. When I’ve got him good and slick, I straddle him again, pressing my bare breasts against his chest.

His hard cock is trapped between us, wedged in my wet folds. I slide back and forth on it, barely moving my hips.

He says through gritted teeth, “More. Inside.”

Kissing his neck, I smile. “You’re not in charge here. You’re a prisoner, remember?”

“Fuck.”

Flexing my hips back and forth, I take his face in my hands and guide his mouth to my breast. He latches onto a nipple with a sound of relief, sucking so hard, his cheeks hollow.

“That’s so good,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his hair. “I love your mouth.”

I give him my other breast and he does the same thing, licking and sucking greedily. Every pull of his lips is an arrow of pleasure shot down to my pussy. I’m so wet, the friction so delicious, I moan as I glide back and forth over the length of his rigid cock.