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Summary
He lifts himself, drags a leg over my waist. I try not to glance down at the boot he’s still wearing—the one that holds Lilath’s pouch. I let him keep talking.
“I’d sneak into your tent, still covered in Augustan blood, and ask how you want to take me.”
He climbs atop me, straddling my hips.
“On my back, Imperator?”
Kisses me.
“On my knees, Imperator?”
Lips brush against my ear.
“Or on all fours, Imperator?”
Series
- Part 2 of Your Shape in My War