Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 01] Read Free Page A

upper arms, he pulled her against his hard body, wanting her to feel how much she aroused him, wanting to feel the softness of her skin against him.
    Her lips parted in a startled gasp as he ground his shaft against her stomach. Sliding one hand down her back, he cupped her round buttock and anchored her securely against his rigid heat.
    He wanted more. But for now, this sufficed.
    “My beautiful, fearless Celt,” he said in his own language. He squeezed her firm buttock, and she sucked in a shocked breath, even as she squirmed against him. “Would you look at me with such misplaced trust if you knew how much I wanted to rip this gown from your body?” He slid a finger between the crease of her tight little bottom, and her fingernails dug into his chest as she jerked toward him.
    He wound his arm around her waist to keep her from any thought of retreat. His finger delved deeper into her hot crevice and she gave a low moan. “Do you know how much I want you, my little Celtic lady? How I want to bury my cock inside your body until I feel you writhe around my shaft? Would you let me, if I asked?”
    She pulled, perhaps unconsciously, at his chest hair, and the stabbing pain shot straight to his straining erection. Gods, he needed to fuck her. But every word of her barbaric language had fled his mind, to be replaced by images of her naked beneath him as he filled every tight channel she possessed with his hot seed.
    Amethyst and jade eyes stared up at him, dark with passion, devoid of fear. A man could lose his mind and soul looking into such mystical eyes. “Thank the gods you don’t speak my tongue.” He abandoned her tempting buttocks and his palm molded the curve of her hip. “You’d spit in my face.”
    Her fingers stilled in their tentative exploration of his battle-scarred chest. “Roman barbarian.” The words were whispered in Celtic, yet he understood them perfectly.
    His arm tightened around her slender waist, and he wound the end of her plait around his other hand. Silken strands caressed his palm and he barely noticed the sharp edges of the jewelry embedding into his skin. “Rome can teach you much, my lady.” And he would start the lessons here. Now. And when his lust was sated he would take her back to the settlement so she was always readily available.
    “Rome is barbaric.” Her voice was breathless and she shifted against him, rubbing herself over his engorged cock. Again her language failed him, but that was of no consequence. He would show her how much Rome could teach her, and, by the time he finished, she would never wish to return to her primitive life.
    He brushed his mouth against hers. She was so soft. So sweet. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, teasing for entry, pressing against the barrier of her teeth. When she finally opened to him he plunged inside, invading her heat, exploring every secret corner, and tangling his tongue around hers, stroking and stoking the scorching embers.
    She moaned inside his mouth, and the sound vibrated against his flesh, sizzled along his blood and sent waves of fire coursing through his agonized shaft. Still bound by her braid he clasped her head, holding her still for his pleasure as he plundered her mouth as a ravenous man plundered the fields of Elysian.
    Crushed against him he could feel the firm muscles of her thighs, and the exquisite damp heat of her pussy burned through her gown, through his linen robe, and tortured his last remnants of restraint.
    Maximus tore his mouth from her, captured her bottom lip between his teeth. She panted into his face, her eyes glazed with passion, and with a growl of possession he released her lip and nibbled kisses with his lips and teeth across her face before sucking her earlobe into his searching mouth.
    Her nails dug into his chest, and her earring scraped along his tongue. His hand slid up from her waist and cupped her breast, curled his fingers around the tempting fullness and imagined suckling her erect,