[This is erotic fiction and is meant for mature readers only.]
As Duncan watches Gianna twirling about the piazza, he thinks that he’d rather have just her than be a Caesar back in ancient Rome and have the power to bed a bevy of beauties.
There are two competing visions.
The real one: Gianna twirling with her arms outstretched, her face lifted upward, as she loves the sun drenching her with its light and warmth. Her long, loose, white peasant skirt swishing about her ankles. Her face a complete delight. Her dark hair clasped at the back of her head, and coursing down to her shoulders, which are bare except for the two straps of her Mediterranean blue top.
The imaginary one: Duncan, standing tall and powerful, his toga draped down to his sandaled feet, looking on as the line of women are led before him. These are women brought in from all over the Empire. All have been collected for his pleasure. He can choose one or two or however many to bring back to his chambers and lounge in the hot bath of their exotic skin, their luscious woman-ness, their mission to focus on his bliss.
No contest here. Duncan chooses the real vision.
His choice is confirmed as the day unfurls before them. The ease of Gianna clasping his hand in hers as they walk toward the Pantheon. How, as they stand and gaze upon the statues of the Trevi fountain, she rests her head on his shoulder. She eases against him, and he replies by resting his hand on her ass. A light touch, not an taunting firm squeeze. How her ass reminds him of the statues in the fountain, it feels nice and firm under the fabric of her skirt. Duncan imagines that the central statue in the fountain, of bearded and muscular Oceanus, looks at them and approves.
During dinner, they flank a small round table at a sidewalk restaurant, sitting among other couples soaking in the romance. Gianna’s eyes dance in joy as they take in him and the lovely scene around them. The way her lips purse as they touch the wine glass, and then the red wine tilting in the glass and sliding down to meet her lips. Her eyes, her lips, all happy.
Then, as they enter their hotel room, Duncan tells her about his choice of having her over him being a powerful Caesar who could have his choice, night after night, of a line of beautiful women.
“Oh?” she says. “Are you sure?” Her expression looks like she’s ready to play.
“Completely sure,” Duncan answers.
“Aren’t you worried of getting bored of just me?”
“I haven’t yet,” Duncan answers.
“Wouldn’t you want that power, though? To do what you wanted to me?”
“I already have that. I’ve already done it.”
Her eyebrow raises. A question. Like a hand raised, paused, not evident if it is about to spank or caress. His hand has done both of those things to her.
Gianna says nothing. No arguing back at him. No acquiescence either. Just that questioning raised eyebrow. Questioning to see what he is going to do next. Duncan looks left then right at the hotel room, searching for ideas, but nothing jumps out. No ropes or clamps or blindfolds. This isn’t something they usually do, and he feels at a loss for inspiration.
So goes with the only thing that comes to his mind and says, “Take my clothes off.”
Her other eyebrow doesn’t raise in surprise. Her lifted eyebrow lowers. Her face does not offer any anger or enjoyment over his order. But she does comply. Patiently, she complies. Her hands don’t rush in undoing the buttons on his shirt. Nor in tugging off his sleeves. In unbuckling his belt. Untying his shoes. Pulling them off as he raises his leg. In tugging off his pants and boxer shorts.
She takes his cock in her mouth, sucks on it for a few seconds, then lets it go. “Is that what you wanted, Caesar?”
Duncan enjoys this, that she’s playing along. “Yes. Now take your clothes off.”
Gianna removes her clothes slowly, deliberately, and does not dance as she does so. This is no bump n’ grind. It doesn’t need to be one to turn on Duncan even more. His excitement builds as more of her flesh is revealed, of her lithe firmness that her tank top had suggested, and her loose peasant skirt had offered nothing about. He almost tells her to pause when she just has her underwear on, as she looks incredibly elegant and gorgeous with the lacy underwear that’s the barest of blue. But he doesn’t stop her and lets her move on, to become fully nude.
“Lie down,” he orders.
to be continued…