Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Leonidas' breath came in ragged gasps as he drove into her, his cock thick and unyielding, stretching her with every brutal thrust. Sarah’s nails raked down his back, her body arching beneath him as she met his rhythm, her hips lifting to take him deeper.
Then, in a sudden, wild movement, she twisted beneath him, her lips finding the salty skin of his armpit. The taste of him—musky, raw, intoxicating—exploded on her tongue. His vile, pungent body odor wrapped around her like a drug, making her head spin. She licked deeper, her tongue tracing the coarse hair, drinking in the scent of him like a woman possessed.
Leonidas groaned, his thrusts faltering for a heartbeat before he grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"You are a witch," he growled, his voice rough with something between accusation and awe. "No woman would dare—"
Sarah smirked against his skin, her tongue tracing the salt of his sweat. "I told you," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "I'm not like them."
His grip tightened in her hair, but instead of pulling her away, he yanked her closer, crushing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. His tongue invaded her mouth with the same brutal force as his cock, claiming her, marking her. The taste of him—smoky wine, iron, and something wild—filled her senses.
Sarah’s fingers tangled in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss as her body arched beneath him. The pain was still there, a sharp, burning reminder of his size, but beneath it, something else pulsed—a heat that coiled low in her belly, spreading outward with every brutal thrust.
Leonidas broke the kiss with a growl, his dark eyes burning into hers.
Sarah’s breath came in sharp gasps, her nails raking down his back, leaving red trails on his skin.
They moved together in a rhythm older than time, their bodies slick with sweat, the furs beneath them damp with their combined effort.
The torchlight had long since burned low, casting the chamber in shifting shadows as dawn crept closer, but neither of them noticed—there was only the heat between them, the way Sarah’s body clenched around Leonidas with every thrust, the way his breath came in ragged gasps against her neck as he buried himself inside her again and again. When he finally spilled into her, it was with a groan that tore from his chest, his cock pulsing deep as he filled her womb with his seed. Sarah could feel it—thick, hot, a claim as undeniable as the marks his fingers had left on her hips. She collapsed against him, her limbs trembling, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the last waves of pleasure rippled through her. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, her back pressed against the hard planes of his chest as his fingers traced idle patterns on her sweat-slicked skin.
The scent of their lovemaking still hung thick in the air—musky and raw, the scent of sex and sweat mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood. Sarah could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her shoulder blades, the way his breath warmed the nape of her neck.
Then she moved.
With a slow, deliberate shift, Sarah turned in his arms, her fingers trailing down the hard ridges of his abdomen. Leonidas went still, his dark eyes watching her with a predator’s intensity as she pressed her lips to the sweat-dampened skin of his chest.
*"Let me show you something special,"* she murmured against his skin, her voice husky with promise.
Before he could respond, she slid down his body, her hands gliding over the hard planes of his thighs. The torchlight flickered across his skin, casting shadows that made the scars on his body seem even more jagged, more dangerous.
Sarah's fingers traced the hard ridges of his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as she pressed her lips to the sweat-dampened skin of his chest, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of him.
But when Sarah slid down his body, her fingers trailing over the hard ridges of his abdomen, Leonidas froze—every muscle in his body going taut with something between shock and primal hunger.
Then she did the unthinkable.
With a slow, deliberate motion, she pulled his cock from the tight heat of her body, watching as it glistened with their combined fluids—thick, pearlescent, the scent of sex and iron filling the air. Before he could react, her tongue was on him, tracing the swollen veins along his length, lapping at the slickness that coated him. Leonidas’ entire body jerked as if struck by lightning.
*"Fuck—"* The word tore from his throat, raw and broken, as she took him into her mouth, her lips sealing around the thick head before she hollowed her cheeks and pulled back with a wet, obscene *pop*.
Leonidas’ fingers tangled in her hair, his grip bruising as he watched her tongue swirl around the crown, lapping at the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip. His cock pulsed against her lips, already hardening again, already demanding more.
She *licked* him like a woman starved—her tongue tracing the thick veins, her lips dragging down the shaft before she took him deep, her throat fluttering around him as she swallowed him whole. Leonidas’ breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles locked tight as she worked him with a skill that defied belief. Her fingers curled around the base, stroking in time with her mouth, her thumb pressing into the sensitive underside with every upward glide. Then she pulled back, her lips leaving his cock with a wet sound, and Leonidas groaned at the loss—until her tongue darted lower, tracing the heavy sac beneath, her breath hot against his skin.
His entire body jerked when she took one of his balls into her mouth, rolling it gently with her tongue before moving to the other, her fingers still stroking the thick base of his cock. The sensation was so intense, so *wrong*, that his muscles locked, his breath catching in his throat.
*"Sarah—"* His voice was a broken growl, but she didn’t stop.
Her tongue dragged up the length of him again, this time circling the swollen head before she took him deep, her throat fluttering around him as she swallowed. Then, with a wicked glint in her eyes, she pulled back just enough to lick the underside of his cock, her tongue tracing the thick vein that pulsed with his heartbeat. She tasted the salt of him, the musk of their sex still clinging to his skin, and when she reached the base, she didn’t hesitate—her tongue dipped lower, pressing against the tight ring of muscle between his cheeks.
Leonidas’ entire body locked, his breath stopping in his throat as she licked him there, slow and deliberate, before returning to the thick shaft in her hand. She pulled back the foreskin with her lips, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head, savoring the slickness that beaded at the tip. He had never known a woman like this—never imagined such pleasure existed.
When Sarah pressed him onto his stomach, Leonidas hesitated for only a heartbeat before complying, his warrior’s instincts warring with the unfamiliar submission. The rough furs beneath his chest felt abrasive against his skin, but his muscles tensed as he felt her shift behind him, her breath warm against his bare back. Then her tongue—soft, wet, insistent—traced the sensitive crease between his thighs, and his entire body locked in shock.
The sensation was electric. No woman had ever dared touch him there, let alone with such shameless hunger. Her tongue swirled against his skin, delving into the hidden cleft with slow, deliberate strokes, tasting the salt and musk of him. Leonidas’ fingers clenched into the furs, his breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure unlike anything he’d ever known coiled through his gut.
The sensation was obscene, forbidden—her tongue, warm and insistent, tracing the most intimate of places with a skill that made his muscles lock in shock.
The rough texture of her tongue against his most sensitive skin sent a jolt through him, his hips lifting involuntarily as she worked him with a precision that defied belief. Her fingers curled around the base of his cock, stroking in time with her mouth, while her other hand pressed against the small of his back, holding him in place as she explored him with a thoroughness that left him breathless.
Leonidas had always prided himself on his control, his discipline—but this was different. This was something primal, something that stripped away the layers of civilization and left him raw, exposed.
When Sarah’s tongue pressed deeper, the tip of it slipping past the tight ring of muscle to trace the sensitive folds within, Leonidas’ entire body convulsed—not with pain, but with a pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. His fingers clawed at the furs beneath him, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as her tongue swirled against his most forbidden place, tasting the salt and musk of him with a hunger that left him trembling.
*"Fuck—"* The word tore from his throat, guttural and broken, as her tongue delved deeper, the rough texture of it against his inner walls sending sparks of sensation shooting through his body. His cock, already hard, pulsed against the furs, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip as his hips lifted involuntarily, pressing back against her mouth.
Sarah’s fingers dug into his thighs, holding him steady as her tongue worked its magic, tracing the sensitive ridges inside him with a skill that made his vision blur.
Leonidas had never felt anything like this—never imagined a woman could reduce him to this state of helpless, trembling ecstasy. His muscles locked, his breath coming in ragged gasps as she worked him, her tongue swirling, tasting, exploring every inch of him with a hunger that left him shaking.
Then, just as he was about to lose himself completely, she pulled back, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.
*"You taste like war,"* she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.
*"Like iron and sweat and something darker."*
Leonidas couldn’t speak. His fingers were still tangled in the furs, his knuckles white from gripping so hard. Every muscle in his body was locked tight, trembling with the effort of holding himself together. He had never felt anything like this—never imagined a woman could reduce him to this state of helpless, trembling ecstasy.
Sarah’s fingers traced slow circles on the back of his thighs, her touch light but deliberate. She was watching him, studying the way his muscles tensed beneath her hands, the way his breath came in ragged gasps.
Leonidas had never been touched like this—not by any woman, not in all his years of war and discipline. The Spartan way demanded control, demanded strength, but Sarah had stripped him of that with a few deliberate strokes of her tongue.
The air between them was thick with the scent of their bodies—sweat, salt, the musky tang of sex. The torchlight flickered across the hard planes of his back, casting shadows that made the scars on his skin seem even more jagged, more dangerous. Sarah’s fingers traced the raised lines of old wounds, feeling the way his muscles twitched beneath her touch.
Then, with a growl that vibrated through the chamber, Leonidas surged forward, his massive frame pinning her beneath him in one brutal motion.
His cock, already hard and slick from her mouth, found its way home with terrifying precision, driving deep into her in a single, relentless thrust. Sarah gasped as he filled her completely, her body arching instinctively to meet the invasion.
*"Tomorrow,"* he rasped against her throat, his voice rough with possession, *"we stay in this bed. I will spend the entire day tasting every part of you."* His hips rolled forward, grinding his pelvis against hers with deliberate cruelty, making her whimper as he hit some unbearably sensitive place inside her. *"You think you know my limits? You don’t. But by the time I’m done with you, you’ll know them better than you know your own name."*
Sarah’s fingers clawed at his back, her nails drawing blood as she struggled to accommodate his size. The pain was sharp, almost too much—yet beneath it, something darker, hotter coiled in her belly.
Sarah’s breath came in ragged gasps as Leonidas’ weight pressed her into the furs, his cock buried so deep inside her that she could feel the pulse of his heartbeat against her womb. His scent—sweat, iron, and something wild—filled her senses, making her head spin.
*"You’re mine now,"* he growled against her ear, his voice rough with possession. *"Every inch of you belongs to me."* Leonidas’ growl still echoed in the chamber as the first pale light of dawn crept through the cracks in the stone walls, painting the furs in shades of gold and rose. True to his word, he hadn’t left the bed. His massive body still pinned Sarah beneath him, his cock buried deep inside her even as sleep had claimed them both. The air smelled of sweat and sex, of iron and something darker—something that clung to her skin like a brand.
When Sarah stirred, it was to find Leonidas already awake, his dark eyes burning into hers with a hunger that hadn’t dimmed since the night before. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, possessive and rough, as if memorizing the shape of her. *"You’re still here,"* she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
*"Where else would I be?"* His voice was a low rumble, his breath hot against her ear.
"You think you know my limits?"*
Sarah’s fingers clawed at his back, her nails drawing blood as she struggled to accommodate his size.
Leonidas had promised her an entire day of this, and she could already feel the truth of it in the way his hips rolled against hers, the way his cock pulsed deep inside her, stretching her with every brutal thrust. His scent—sweat, iron, and something wild—filled her senses, making her head spin as she arched beneath him, her body betraying her with its hunger.*
*True to his word, Leonidas hadn’t left the bed. The furs beneath them were damp with sweat and sex, the air thick with the musk of their bodies. When Sarah stirred, it was to find him already awake, his dark eyes burning into hers with a hunger that hadn’t dimmed since the night before.
Leonidas’ fingers traced the curve of her hip, possessive and rough, as if memorizing the shape of her—his way of staking claim before the day even began. The furs beneath them were still damp with sweat and sex, the air thick with the musk of their bodies. His hand slid down her thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh as if testing its resilience. *"I told you last night—we stay in this bed. No training, no duties, no interruptions."* Leonidas' voice was rough with command, his fingers tightening on her hip as if to emphasize the point. The morning light filtering through the cracks in the stone walls painted his face in sharp relief, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the dark intensity of his gaze.
Sarah arched a brow, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. *"And what if I have other plans?"*
Leonidas' lips curled into a dangerous smile. *"You don't."* His hand slid up her thigh, his thumb pressing into the sensitive spot just below her hipbone. *"You're mine today. Every breath, every sigh, every sound you make—I own it."* Leonidas' voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into her hip with possessive force. The morning light through the cracks in the stone walls painted his face in sharp angles, highlighting the scars that mapped his warrior's life. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that made Sarah's breath catch.
She arched a brow, tracing lazy circles on his chest. *"You sound awfully sure of yourself."*
Leonidas' lips curled into a dangerous smirk. *"Because I am."* His hand slid up her thigh, his thumb pressing into that sensitive spot just below her hipbone."* Leonidas' voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into her hip with possessive force.
---
They made love until the sun hung high in the sky, the chamber growing thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the furs beneath them damp with their shared exertion. When Leonidas finally rolled off her, his chest heaving with exertion, he let out a low, satisfied growl before pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
The afternoon sun slanted through the cracks in the stone walls, gilding their sweat-slicked skin in warm light. Sarah’s limbs felt boneless, her body still humming from the relentless pace he’d set—one that left her breathless and aching in the best possible way.
Leonidas didn’t let her linger in the afterglow for long. With a sharp command, he summoned a soldier, who arrived moments later with a tray of food—olives, bread, and a thick slice of roasted meat. But instead of handing it to her, Leonidas took the plate himself, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a possessive glint. *"Open,"* he ordered, his voice rough.
Sarah blinked, too spent to protest. She parted her lips, and he fed her a piece of bread, his fingers lingering on her mouth before pulling away.
The taste of honey and salt lingered on her tongue, but it was the way his thumb brushed her lower lip that made her stomach tighten. Leonidas watched her with a predator's intensity, his dark eyes tracking every swallow, every flicker of her tongue. When she reached for the wine, he caught her wrist, his grip firm but not cruel. *"No,"* he said, his voice low. *"You don't need it."* Before she could protest, he brought the cup to his own lips, drinking deeply before pressing it to hers. The wine was strong, sharp—like him—and when she drank, it was his breath she tasted, his mouth she imagined on hers.
Leonidas watched her swallow, his thumb brushing her lower lip again, slower this time, as if memorizing the shape of it.
*"You’re different,"* he said at last, his voice rough with something that wasn’t quite suspicion, but wasn’t quite trust either. *"Not just the way you speak, the way you move. The way you—"* His fingers flexed against her hip, his grip tightening just enough to make her breath catch. *"The way you take what you want."*
Sarah licked her lips, tasting the wine and the faint salt of his skin. *"Is that a problem?"*
Leonidas’ eyes darkened. *"It should be."*
The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken things.
Outside, the training grounds of Sparta echoed with the distant shouts of warriors and the rhythmic clatter of spears against shields. But here, in the dim, sweat-slicked confines of Leonidas’ chamber, time seemed to move differently—slower, heavier, as if the air itself had thickened with the weight of their shared secrets.
Sarah watched him, her hazel eyes catching the flickering torchlight. She could see the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers twitched against her skin. He was a man who had spent his life in control—of his body, his men, his kingdom.
But Sarah had unraveled him in ways he hadn’t known were possible. The scent of her still clung to his skin as he adjusted the leather straps of his armor, the weight of his sword familiar against his hip. The chamber smelled of sweat and sex, the furs still rumpled from their marathon of pleasure. Outside, the training grounds echoed with the rhythmic clatter of spears and the distant shouts of warriors. Sparta never slept, and neither did its king.
Leonidas turned to her, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made her stomach tighten. "I must go," he said, his voice rough with command. "The Persians are stirring again, and I cannot afford to be distracted." His fingers brushed her cheek, a rare moment of tenderness before his expression hardened. "You will not leave this chamber until I return. I have arranged for guards—"
Sarah arched a brow, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the furs beneath her.
"Guards? Or *toys*?"
Leonidas' jaw tightened, his dark eyes flashing with something between amusement and irritation. "You are impossible." He turned to the soldiers waiting outside, his voice sharp with command. "Strip. Now."
The men hesitated only a heartbeat before obeying, their armor clattering to the stone floor as they bared their bodies to her inspection. Sarah leaned forward, her hazel eyes gleaming with interest as she took in the display of muscle and sweat. One was broad-shouldered, his skin marked with old scars, but his cock was disappointingly small. Another had the height she preferred, but his body was too lean, his muscles wiry rather than thick. The third—ah, *now* this one.
He was a brute of a man, his chest a wall of muscle, his arms thick with corded veins.
His cock, even at rest, was impressive—thick and heavy, the head flushed dark with blood. Sarah’s lips curled into a slow, appreciative smile as she met his gaze. His eyes were a stormy gray, sharp with intelligence, and he didn’t look away.
"You may use him however you wish," Leonidas said, his voice low and rough. "Spartan men are yours to command—take what you want from him." With that, he turned on his heel, the remaining two warriors falling into step behind him as they strode from the chamber, leaving the door open behind them.
Sarah didn’t move at first, her fingers still tracing idle patterns on the furs. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the afternoon sun slanting through the cracks in the stone walls, gilding the brute’s body in gold. He stood motionless, his massive frame tensed, his cock already swelling at the promise of what was to come.
She let her gaze rake over him—broad shoulders, thick arms, the kind of body built for war and endurance.
His cock was already half-hard, flushed dark at the tip, and when she met his stormy gray eyes, she saw the same hunger Leonidas had shown her.
*"You’re sure about this?"* she asked, her voice low.
The brute nodded once, his jaw tight. *"I live to serve."*
Sarah smirked. *"Then get on the bed."*
He moved with surprising grace for a man his size, his muscles shifting beneath his skin as he climbed onto the furs. The chamber smelled of sex and sweat, the air thick with anticipation. Outside, the training grounds echoed with the distant shouts of warriors, but in here, time moved differently.
The brute’s massive frame stretched across the furs, his stormy gray eyes locked onto hers as he waited. Sarah let her gaze linger on the thick ropes of muscle in his arms, the way his chest rose and fell with each controlled breath. His cock, already half-hard, twitched against his thigh, the veins tracing its length like a map of battle scars.
She slid from the bed, her bare feet silent against the stone floor. The brute didn’t move, but his muscles tensed as she circled him, her fingers trailing over the hard planes of his back. His skin was warm, rough with old scars—some jagged, some smooth, all telling stories of battles fought and won.
Sarah traced them with her fingers, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. When she reached his shoulder, she leaned in, her lips brushing against the salt of his skin. The brute didn’t move, but his breath hitched, his fingers curling into the furs.
*"What’s your name?
*"Dax,"* he answered, his voice rough with restraint. *"Son of—"*
She didn’t let him finish. Her tongue flicked out, tracing the hard ridge of his collarbone before moving lower, her lips ghosting over the sweat-slicked planes of his chest. Dax’s breath came faster now, his muscles locked tight as she explored him, her touch deliberate, her intent clear.
Sarah’s fingers trailed lower, tracing the thick veins of his cock, feeling the way it pulsed against her palm.
The musky scent of him—salt, iron, and something darker—filled her senses, and when she leaned in, her tongue darted out to taste the slickness beading at the tip, she let out a low, satisfied hum. The flavor was rich, almost overwhelming, the kind of raw, unfiltered taste that made her stomach tighten with hunger. She licked him again, slower this time, savoring the way his cock jerked against her lips, the way his breath hitched as she took him deeper into her mouth.
*"You like that?"* she murmured against his skin, her fingers curling around the heavy weight of his balls. They were warm, tight with arousal, the scent of him even stronger here—musky, primal, like the earth after a storm. She rolled them gently in her palm, feeling the way they shifted beneath her touch, before leaning in to press her lips against the sensitive skin.
Dax's breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as her tongue traced slow circles, her fingers still working the thick shaft of his cock. The taste of him—salt, iron, and something darker—lingered on her tongue, making her head spin.
Sarah let her fingers trail down the hard planes of his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch.
The brute—Dax—watched her with stormy gray eyes, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as she explored him. His cock pulsed against her palm, already half-hard and growing thicker by the second.
She leaned in, her lips brushing against the rough skin of his hipbone. "You know," she murmured, her voice low and teasing, "I've never had a Spartan before. Not like this."
Dax's jaw tightened, but his cock twitched against her hand, betraying his hunger. "You are not like any woman I have known," he admitted, his voice rough with restraint.
Sarah smirked, her fingers curling around the thick base of his cock.
"Good. Because I don't want to be like any woman you've known."
The chamber felt smaller now, the air thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. The brute—Dax—watched her with stormy gray eyes, his muscles coiled tight beneath his skin. His cock pulsed in her grip, already hard and heavy, the veins tracing its length like a map of battle scars.
Sarah leaned in, her breath hot against his skin as she traced the thick vein along the underside of his cock with her tongue. Dax's breath hitched, his fingers curling into the furs beneath him. She could feel the way his body tensed, the way his muscles locked in anticipation.
Sarah’s tongue traced slow, deliberate circles around the swollen head of his cock, savoring the salty-sweet taste of him before taking him deeper, her throat fluttering around him as she swallowed. His breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers tangling in her hair as she worked him with a skill that left him trembling.
Then, with a guttural groan, he came—hot, thick, and salty, pulsing down her throat as she swallowed every drop, her lips still wrapped around him. The taste of him was intoxicating, musky and raw, and when she pulled back, her lips glistening with his release, she didn’t hesitate—she crushed her mouth against his, her tongue pushing past his lips to tangle with his, letting him taste himself on her.
Dax groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping her hips with bruising force as she straddled him, her thighs slick with her own arousal. The heat of him pressed against her core, his cock already hardening again beneath her, and she let out a breathless laugh as she broke the kiss.
*"You’re insatiable,"* she murmured, her voice rough with desire as she shifted her hips, guiding the thick head of his cock against her entrance. *"Good."*
Dax’s fingers dug into her flesh as she sank down onto him, inch by agonizing inch, her body stretching to take all of him. The chamber was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the furs beneath them damp with their shared exertion. Outside, the distant shouts of warriors and the rhythmic clatter of spears against shields faded into the background, drowned out by the ragged gasps escaping her lips as she finally took him fully.
Dax’s cock stretched her in ways that made her vision blur, the thick ridge of his head pressing against some deep, hidden place inside her that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins.
*"Fuck—"* The word tore from her throat, raw and broken, as she rocked her hips experimentally, testing the weight of him. Dax’s fingers tightened on her waist, his stormy eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. He didn’t move—didn’t thrust, didn’t take control—just let her set the pace, his muscles coiled tight beneath her as if he were fighting some internal battle.
Sarah could feel the tension in his body, the way his cock pulsed inside her, thick and unyielding. His hands slid up her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, and when she rolled her hips again, he let out a low, guttural groan.
*"You’re going to kill me,"* he rasped, his voice rough with restraint.
Sarah smirked, leaning forward until her lips were a breath away from his. *"Not yet,"* she whispered, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of his mouth.
*"But I’ll make sure you remember me."*
Dax’s fingers dug into her hips, his breath coming in ragged bursts as she began to move—slow, deliberate circles that made his cock twitch inside her. The chamber smelled of sweat and sex, the furs beneath them damp with their combined exertion. Outside, the training grounds echoed with the distant clatter of shields and the shouts of warriors, but here, in this dim, intimate space, time moved differently.
Sarah leaned back, her hands pressing against his chest as she rode him with slow, deliberate strokes.
The thick ridge of his cock dragged against her inner walls with every movement, sending sparks of pleasure through her body. Dax’s fingers dug into her hips, his knuckles white from the effort of holding back.
*"You’re too tight,"* he growled, his voice rough with restraint. *"Like a virgin’s first time."*
Sarah smirked, her hips rolling in a slow circle that made his breath hitch. *"Maybe I just know how to make it last."*
The brute’s jaw tightened, his stormy eyes locked onto hers as she set the pace. His cock pulsed inside her, thick and unyielding, stretching her in ways that made her vision blur.
Sarah leaned back, her hands pressing against his chest as she rode him with slow, deliberate strokes. The thick ridge of his cock dragged against her inner walls with every movement, sending sparks of pleasure through her body.
Sarah leaned forward, her lips brushing against the rough salt of his skin, tracing the hard planes of his chest until she reached the damp hollow beneath his arm. The scent hit her first—musky, raw, the unmistakable tang of a warrior’s sweat. She inhaled deeply, her tongue darting out to taste the salt on his skin, the flavor sharp and primal against her lips.
A sudden thought struck her. *Do all Spartan soldiers taste like this?*
She pulled back just enough to meet Dax’s stormy gray eyes. "Tell me about the barracks," she murmured, her fingers trailing down his chest. "When you train—do you wear anything?"
Dax’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. "We train as we fight. Naked."
Sarah’s breath hitched. "All of you?"
"Every man in the phalanx," he confirmed, his voice rough with pride.
"From the youngest recruit to the grizzled veterans. We fight as we train—as we live. No armor, no shame. Only strength."
Sarah’s tongue traced the salty ridge of his armpit again, savoring the sharp musk of his sweat, the way it clung to her lips like a promise. The image flashed through her mind—rows of warriors, their bodies glistening under the Spartan sun, muscles coiled like springs, cocks swinging heavy between their thighs as they drilled. She could almost hear the rhythmic clatter of their spears, the grunts of exertion, the scent of leather and iron and unwashed male flesh thick in the air.
Her fingers tightened around Dax’s cock, feeling it pulse against her palm. "And when you’re not training?" she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. "Do you... *play* like this?"
Dax’s laugh was low, dark.
"We do not *play*," he corrected, his fingers tightening in her hair. "We *fuck*."
Sarah smirked, her tongue tracing the salt of his skin. "Same difference."
The brute’s grip on her hip was bruising, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as she rolled her hips against him. The chamber smelled of sweat and sex, the furs beneath them damp with their shared exertion. Outside, the training grounds echoed with the distant shouts of warriors and the rhythmic clatter of spears against shields. But here, in this dim, intimate space, time moved differently.
The furs beneath them were still damp with sweat, the air thick with the musk of sex and the sharp tang of Spartan sweat. Sarah’s fingers traced the hard ridge of Dax’s collarbone, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. His cock pulsed inside her, thick and unyielding, stretching her in ways that made her breath catch.
"Sometimes," Dax admitted, his voice rough with exertion, "we test ourselves—who has the thickest cock, who can shoot the farthest, who can strike hardest." His fingers tightened on her hips, his stormy eyes burning with something primal. "We spar with them, like swords—seeing who can stand firmest, who can take the most."
Sarah’s breath hitched, her body arching against his as the image of Spartan warriors locked in raw, primal competition flashed through her mind. The thought of Dax—this brute of a man, his muscles coiled with restrained power—competing in such a way made her stomach tighten. "And who wins?" she murmured, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest. "The one who doesn’t break." Dax's voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Sarah's hips as he lifted her slightly, adjusting the angle of her body to take him even deeper. "The one who can take everything and still stand."
Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she felt him swell inside her, his cock pressing against that deep, hidden place that made her toes curl. "And you?" she managed, her voice husky with need. "Do you win?"
Dax's stormy eyes locked onto hers, his jaw tight with restraint.
"I don't lose," he growled, his fingers tightening on her hips as he thrust upward, driving himself impossibly deeper.
Sarah gasped, her fingers clawing at his chest as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. The furs beneath them were damp with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and iron. Outside, the training grounds echoed with the distant shouts of warriors, but here, in this dim chamber, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the slick, obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh.
The furs beneath them were soaked with sweat, their bodies glistening under the faint torchlight as Dax thrust into her with a relentless rhythm, his massive frame pinning her to the bed. His cock stretched her to the point of pain, each deep stroke sending shockwaves through her body, his balls slapping against her ass with a wet, rhythmic sound. Sarah’s nails dug into the hard muscle of his back, her legs locked around his waist as she met him thrust for thrust, her own body slick with arousal.
Then, with a guttural groan that seemed to shake the very walls, Dax buried himself to the hilt and came—hot, thick, and deep, his seed flooding her in pulses that made her gasp. She could feel it, the way his cock twitched inside her, the way his release filled her, the warmth spreading through her belly as he emptied himself into her womb.
His breath was ragged against her neck, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. Sarah let her fingers trace lazy circles on his sweat-slicked back, feeling the way his muscles slowly uncoiled beneath her touch.
*"等会儿带我去军营看看,"* she murmured, her lips brushing against the rough salt of his skin. The words were casual, almost playful, but there was a sharp edge to them—an unspoken demand that hung in the air between them.
Dax stiffened, his fingers tightening on her hips. *"You want to see the barracks?"* His voice was rough, still thick with the remnants of pleasure, but there was a new tension in his body now. *"That is not a place for women."*
Sarah smirked, her fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the way his heart still pounded beneath her touch.
"Why not? If you Spartans are so proud of your strength, why hide it?"
Dax's jaw tightened, his stormy gray eyes flickering with something between amusement and irritation. "It is not about hiding. It is about discipline. The barracks are for warriors—men who train, fight, and bleed together. Not for... *distractions*."
Sarah arched a brow, her thumb circling his nipple, feeling the way his breath hitched. "And if I want to be distracted?"
The brute's fingers dug into her hips, his voice dropping to a low growl.
"You are playing with fire, woman."
Sarah leaned in, her lips brushing against the rough stubble of his jaw. "Maybe I like the burn."
Dax's stormy eyes darkened as he studied her face, his fingers tightening on her hips. "You understand nothing of Sparta," he said, his voice rough with warning. "The barracks are not some pleasure den. They are where men become warriors. Where they are forged in sweat and blood."
Sarah smirked, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest. "Then let me see how they're made."
A low chuckle rumbled in Dax's chest as he shook his head.
His fingers tightened on her hips, his stormy gray eyes burning with something between amusement and irritation. "But fine. If you insist on seeing the barracks, I will take you. But do not say I did not warn you."
Sarah smirked, rolling her hips against him one last time before pulling away. The furs beneath them were damp with sweat, the air thick with the musk of sex and the sharp tang of Spartan sweat. She stretched like a cat, her body still humming with the afterglow of their encounter. "Lead the way, then," she said, her voice husky with satisfaction.