I took my time, savouring the welcome feel of her tongue swiping my own. My hands tightened on her waist, pulling her forward until her centre was directly lined up against my growing length.
Slow down, boy. Savour her. Feel her.
Pulling back, I was caught by her all-knowing gaze. Micah was right there with me, fully present and consumed in the essence of us, as an overwhelming necessity of electrifying static sparked in the space between.
Within her, I found all the answers. Everything I’d never asked or searched for…yet, everything I’d ever want or need.
My survival. My lifeline. My home.
MICAH
August stood frozen as I peeled his shirt up over his head and traced the tattoos laden over his chest.
The distinct gladiator helmet stamped over his right pec, displaying his allegiance to the Ludus Maximus. The rest was a transient montage of tortured wraiths and faceless ghosts, each on the verge of death from a specialised weapon. Anyone would find the images disturbing, whereas I found a certain kinship with them. Death, a regular visitor who always welcomed me with the fondest hospitality.
“What do they mean?” My mouth pitched forward in gentle exploration, his warm skin heating beneath the light pressure of my lips. “They look like screaming souls begging for mercy, begging for their lives.”
August’s rib cage expanded beneath my hands. “That’s because they are. What do you know of the Gladiator Games?”
“The Games are a biyearly event that the Ludus Maximus are renowned for. Only one survives. And you, Psycho, are the most famous gladiator of all.” My tongue flicked against his nipple, sucking it between my lips. He surrendered a shudder and I repeated the process on the other side, his restrained growls nowhere near close enough to what I desired.
I needed it, fucking craved it. To make him act as crazy as he made me feel.
My head tipped back to catch his stare. “Each person can choose one weapon to take into the death match. What was your weapon of choice, Psycho?”
Without a word, he lifted his hands to bracket my neck, fingers constricting around my throat. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, his gruff voice intoxicating my mind.
“Observant as ever, baby. I have a tattoo for each gladiator I defeated in the arena. I never needed a weapon, ‘cause I killed them with their own.”
“I wonder…did you kill them out of mercy, or power?”
“You’re cute to think I ever had an option. Only one person makes it out alive, and the finale always comes down to Maximus or a special guest. I only ever saw one signal from my time in the games.” He lifted a fist and tilted until his thumb was pointing down.
The mark to kill.
“I chose this path. I chose to take life to compensate for the protection of me and mine. If I had to do it all over again, I would still choose to be exactly where I am right now. With you.”
August and I were marked by the greatest sin, death’s willing companions, overrun with darkness and immorality. His words washed over me with purpose, holding no remorse or regret.
We were truly aligned.
Pushing him to step back, I slipped off the counter, his thumbs stroking against my jawline.
I kissed the centre of his chest as my hands settled on his waistband. “I want to see,” I whispered, pulling his pants and trunks to the ground, his body left open and on display.
August hissed at the sudden exposure, but he didn’t stop me.
I gathered to my knees, his dick beautiful, long and hard, begging for attention. Shifting my focus, my eyes and fingertips traced over the expansive tattoos that lined his muscular legs.
Too many souls to count.
My fingers stilted upon a disguised tattoo on the side of his knee. “Don’t tell me, is that a—”
“Yep, it’s a dildo,” August snickered. “One challenging gladiator thought he’d be funny and chose a huge plastic dick as his weapon. To ‘fuck me up the ass,’ he said, or something along those lines.”
“I can’t believe you got that tattooed on you,” I huffed, half in amusement, half in disbelief.
“In spite of his foolhardy boast, he fought hard. Simply not hard enough to beat me.”
“Did you use his own weapon against him, then?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want an answer to.” His tone altered from teasing to straight masculinity, his eyes shifting to a hunter’s gaze. “What about you? What’s your weapon of choice, Golden Girl?”
I refused to look away, raising one hand to settle around the base of his cock as I proceeded to lick the precum leaking from his tip. The appetiser lingered on my tastebuds, inflaming my ardour within.
My tongue stroked up his shaft, exploring, playing and searching until my lips wrapped around his balls, massaging the aching spot with my salivating mouth.
“Fuckkkkkk.” August’s thigh muscles spasmed beneath my hold as he hyperventilated, his features swimming in wonder and desperation.
“Micah,” he choked. In warning or encouragement, I didn’t know. Either way, I was ready to give him what he needed. What we both needed.
Humming in satisfaction, I suckled the head before guiding his length into my wanting mouth, his unrestrained groan sending waves of lust directly between my legs. I was stretched wide, his girth large and imposing, filling me to the brink.
With renewed hunger I pushed forward, adapting to his size as it hit the back of my throat. Our moans and sighs tangled together as my core throbbed in perfect synchronisation with his thrusts.
August continued to curse under his breath, never quite finding the words he was looking for. When my throat muscles relaxed and his cock fully settled inside me, his expression transformed into a feral monster, eyes predatory and savage.
