Bee Among the Clover by Fae Sutherland, Marguerite Labbe Page A

fraction of an inch and claimed the slave’s lips in a torrid kiss that dragged a whimper from Roman and a groan from himself.
Aron felt Roman’s stiff resistance at first, but then he whimpered again and trembled lightly as his mouth softened underneath Aron’s, and Aron tasted Roman’s submission to him. Blazing triumph seared through his veins, and he raked his hand through Roman’s dark hair, fisting it, while he caught his arm around Roman’s waist and hauled the trembling slave closer to him. He felt Roman’s hands come up to grip his biceps as the slave molded himself to him.
Aron slid his hand from Roman’s hair long enough to unclip his own leash to join the other on the floor before his fingers again buried deep in the silky waves that tumbled down the slave’s back. Roman whimpered again and clung to him, and Aron reveled in the immediate response.
Aron groaned at the sweet taste of his lips, but even sweeter was Roman’s surrender, the submission that Aron had fantasized about for longer than he cared to admit. His arm tightened around the slave’s waist, and he lifted Roman off his feet to take the few steps to the bed, pressing him back onto it and crawling up over him. In some distant part of his mind he registered Wulfgar’s presence, but he dismissed him from his mind in favor of giving his full focus to the dark, beautiful creature beneath him.
Aron couldn’t keep his hands off of him, roaming, stroking, and mapping out every perfect contour of Roman’s lithe, lean body. His. The thought startled him, and he broke the kiss, staring down into dazed, almost black, eyes.
No… he wasn’t. Roman belonged to Wulfgar. But even as his mind reminded him of that fact, another part of him hissed silently: Mine . The force of his sudden surge of possessiveness was almost frightening, and for an instant, he was struck with the urge to shove away from him, toss him at Wulfgar’s feet, and never touch him again.
He couldn’t, though. The desire to claim Roman, to mark him as his own, even if only for this night, was too strong. He brought a hand up to Roman’s cheek, tracing the elegant bones, the soft skin, seeing the confusion in his hazy eyes, shaking himself out of his own reverie. He wasn’t going to think about it, he was just going to feel.
And what he felt surpassed any pleasure he’d ever known. Seeking more of that, he dipped his head, mouth latching to Roman’s slender, graceful throat even as he slid one hand between their tightly pressed bodies and between the slave’s thighs to close around his cock, glorying in the ragged moan the touch earned him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against Roman’s arched neck, breathing in the sweet scent of his skin, his silky hair. Why was one man so beautiful? Aron had never known anyone like Roman. He was intoxicating and mesmerizing even when doing nothing more than reading one of his scrolls. Maddening, that was what he was. Absolutely maddening, and for once Aron was going to succumb to the madness and revel in it without hesitation.
Aron groaned as Roman’s hands feathered over his shoulders and traced down the curve of his spine, those elegant fingers stopping, brushing the top of his buttocks before sliding back up his sides. Aron lifted his head, looking down at Roman, whose eyes were closed, his lashes a dark crescent, his face a mask of pleasure, his lips parted and swollen from the bout of kissing earlier. Aron couldn’t resist another kiss to those lush lips before breaking it.
He sat up, straddling Roman’s thighs, his hands possessive as they dragged down over the slave’s chest, watching in fascination as Roman’s body arched upwards into his hands. Every move that Aron made, Roman reacted to. It was powerful to experience and made him want to touch the other man everywhere, in every way, just to see how he would react. Aron plucked Roman’s nipples, his eyes intent on Roman’s face as the slave’s mouth formed an