“No, not that name either.” My lips moved back down her throat and I nipped at her skin. “In this bed, I am always Lucius to you.”
“Lucius,” she echoed. She ran her hands up my sides and over my arms to my shoulders. She tightened her fingers against my skin as I continued moving down her throat with my mouth.
With practiced touch, I found the warmth between her legs with my fingers, and brought forth her moisture as her hips rocked against me. As soon as her breath turned to panting against my chest, I guided my cock to her entrance and delved into her body.
I moved slowly, not just to save my strength or for the sake of my exhausted body, but also to give her the full pleasure of my deep penetrations. Only she saw this other side of me—the gentler man who desired nothing more than her company and her warm sex—and only when we were alone inside the tent.
Moving my hips, I thrust deep inside of her, enjoying her muffled cries of pleasure against my shoulder. I continued back and forth until Aia arched her back. She pressed her head to the sheets as she gripped my forearms and cried out into the cool night air. I followed soon after, muffling a moan against the skin of her neck.
For many minutes, I held her tight against me. I listened to her breathing as it slowed and felt her light touch over my arms. She soothed me, and the memories of battle violence faded from my head as her touch consumed all thoughts.
“I want you to be mine,” I whispered in her ear as I trailed kisses up and down her throat. My hand graced over the swell of her stomach, and Aia laid her hand over the top of mine.
“I already belong to you,” she reminded me.
“Owning your body is not enough for me,” I replied. I moved my hand to the place right above her left breast. “I want your heart, for that is where your true worth lies.”
She looked at me, and her eyes shone with tears.
“It is yours, Lucius,” she said. Her voice broke slightly. “Since the day you first touched me, it has been yours.”
In my own heart, I knew I could never make it more than this—more than her in my bed as my slave and concubine—but I would do everything within my power to make her feel like more. With every touch, I would show her what she meant to me.
Her worth was mine.
~the end~
These Men
Andrea Smith
acknowledgements
Thank you to my Facebook Street Team - each and every one of you for your continued support and reminders that yes, I could write this story, because time and time again, I had my doubts!
To Ashlee Porte, who I can always count on to tell me like it is - love you!
To my comrades in The Erotica Consortium: C.D. Reiss, Shay Savage, K. Bromberg, JA Huss, KI Lynn, Ella James, and Alessandra Torre - you ladies are awesome and I totally love what you write! It was an honor and a pleasure to have my novella introduced as part of "Bend."
And a special shout-out to Author Kennedy Kelly, Janett Gomez, Nicole Duke and Kandace Milostan for beta feed-back! You ladies rock!
Cover Design: Louisa Maggio @ L.M. Creations
Editing: Janell Parque
Formatting: Tami Norman
playlist for "These Men"
"Sexual Thing" - Poison
"My Prerogative" - Bobby Brown
"I Want Your Sex" - George Michaels
"Money for Nothing" - Dire Straits
"Losing My Religion" - R.E.M.
"Waiting on the World to Change" - John Mayer
"Something To Talk About" - Bonnie Raitt
"Who Says You Can't Go Home" - Bon Jovi
"Dreams" - The Cranberries
"We Belong" - Pat Benatar
"I'll Stand By You" - The Pretenders
prologue
I'd been on the road for three days and, to be honest, I was tired of seeing green and white signs along the side of the road, charting my progress, or lack thereof, as the case might be, and staying in flea bag motels because of my strained budget. Traveling across the country sounded awesome until around the end of day two. Now, it was simply a matter of my being impatient to reach my destination.
Here I was, Paige Elizabeth Matthews, 22 years-old, leaving my parents' home in Napa, California to carve out a career and an appropriate life for myself—that was how my father had put it to me. In other words, I was being shoved from the nest for my own good.
It wasn't as if I hadn't been raised or educated properly, because I had. I'd graduated in January from Cal State with a degree that was of little use to me in Napa, but which would serve me well with some government agency such as say, the FBI? Yep, according to my father, that would be a perfect fit for me and my degree.
Yeah, I knew he'd been on the phone several times with my older brother, Trace, who was moving his way up the bureau ladder in D.C. I had relented and filled out the application for an administrative internship at my parents' urging. I assumed my brother had pulled the appropriate strings to get me selected for the program.
Sweet.
I was okay with it; I mean there was nothing to keep me in Napa. No love connections, no attachments with close friends. I'd never been much of the girly-girl who had a flock of BFFs that I shared everything with while we shopped or had our nails done.
In that respect, I was kind of a loner. Truth be told, I related much better with the male species than the female. It was probably because I'd been raised around vineyards, and the fact that vineyards employed a lot of guys made it just that much more convenient. And, to be honest? I enjoyed the attention of men. Actually, craved the attention of men might be more accurate.
Maybe too much.
I knew that was yet another reason my parents were kind of eager to send me off. They weren't always comfortable with my "appreciation" of the opposite sex. The fact that I had been dating several different guys simultaneously had seemed to cause them a fair amount of angst over the last several months, especially when they had gotten their names mixed up time and time again.
They would go on and on about how proud they were that my oldest brother, Easton - who I barely knew - had settled down in the U.S. with his new wife, Darcy, and their baby boy, Weston.
From there, the conversation moved onto Trace, and about how he too, had settled down…and how much they loved his wife, Lindsey, and how proud they were of their beautiful grand-babies Harper and Jackson.
They wanted the same for me—that was obvious. I just wasn't really sure if I wanted that; I couldn’t picture myself living that kind of a life—at least not for a very long time. I hadn't really had any serious relationships and my instinct told me that was because I hadn't found my demographic yet—if that makes any sense at all.
I pulled off at the next exit to fill my gas tank and give Trace a quick call on my cell, to let him know that I'd be reaching their place in another few hours.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I fumbled with the gas cap and got the pump going. It was damp and chilly; the remnants of winter were still in the air for the first of March in eastern Pennsylvania.
He answered his cell, recognizing my number. "Where are you?" he asked, as if he were worried.
"Somewhere in Pennsylvania," I answered, chewing on a nail. "I should be at your place before dark."
"Okay, Paige, we'll be here. Drive carefully, you hear?"
"Yes, Trace," I sighed, rolling my eyes. He could be caring I suppose, but I also knew he was doing this more for Mom and Dad than for me. We just were too far apart in age to be that close.