Chapter 413: Eating Fulvia (1) *

Fulvia’s juices poured out in sudden pulses, slicking my face, and I lapped them up greedily, tasting her like nectar, like ambrosia, moaning low in my throat as I sucked every last drop, tongue exploring her trembling pussy, slow now, tender, savoring her flavor.

Her legs fell open limply, her breath ragged, chest heaving, lips parted. She looked utterly wrecked, her face flushed, eyes glassy.

"I... I’ve never felt anything like this before..." Fulvia whispered breathlessly, her voice trembling with a mixture of shock and sultry delight. A shudder rippled through her body as she leaned back against the cushions, her legs quivering, her breath shallow. The climax had hit her like a crashing wave, leaving her disoriented, vulnerable, and glowing with post-pleasure warmth. Her mind, once so guarded and composed, now unraveled in a haze of ecstasy, undone by the intimacy of lips and tongue against the most sensitive parts of her.

The expression on her face said it all — wonder, disbelief, and a hint of shame, all wrapped together in the heat of lust.

"I had a feeling you might react that way," I said casually, my face still inches from her glistening pussy, the scent of her arousal lingering in the air. I looked up, meeting her dazed eyes with a knowing gaze.

"You thought that?" she asked, glancing down at me, her cheeks flushed with the dual fires of passion and confusion.

"You said you were once betrothed to Marcus Antonius," I reminded her, tilting my head. "A man known for his appetites — in war, in wine, and most certainly in women. I just assumed he would’ve already... taken you."

Her expression hardened just slightly, lips pressing together before she exhaled sharply through her nose. "Perhaps. But do you take me for a woman so easily swayed? Even Marcus knew better than to force himself on me. He was already drifting toward betrayal — aligning himself with Caesar, whispering secrets in the wrong ears. I think... even he feared the consequences if he defiled me. Especially if he left a child behind. That could’ve been his undoing."

Her voice dropped to a murmur, almost more to herself than to me. "I suppose... preserving my virginity from that arrogant bastard was the only good decision I ever made in that mess."

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "And yet you say you’re not easy," I teased gently before leaning in to draw another quick, deliberate stroke of my tongue along her folds. Her body answered before her words could.

"Haahn!" Fulvia gasped, her hips twitching, her sensitive flesh clenching in response. Her back arched instinctively as another burst of pleasure shook her.

She had let me — a man she had barely just met — lay her bare and taste her untouched pussy. That contradiction hung in the air between us, ripe with implication.

Still panting, she looked down at me, her eyes shining with defiance even amid her haze. "I make my own choices," she said firmly. "I told you — I can still think clearly."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then tell me — what are you thinking now?"

Her gaze didn’t waver. "I want to have sex."

I blinked. "Just like that? After holding back all this time?" I asked, raising myself up slightly, wiping her wetness from my lips with the back of my hand.

Fulvia didn’t look away. Instead, she lifted her chin, a flicker of something deeper — sadness, maybe desperation — flashing in her eyes.

"My family has arranged a new marriage for me," she said quietly. "Since Marcus Antonius’s betrayal, they’ve wasted no time. My father found someone wealthy... powerful."

"That sounds like something to celebrate," I said, though the sarcasm in my voice was clear.

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. "He’s three times my age, and at least twice my size. He spends his days drinking himself senseless and his nights rutting with his slaves like animals. He reeks of wine, sweat, and something worse... and I’m supposed to smile and lie still under him for the rest of my life."

Suddenly, everything about Fulvia — the way she had drunk herself silly earlier, the sharp barbs she had aimed at Marcus, her recklessness tonight — began to make sense. Her dreams of love, ambition, excitement... all of it had crumbled. In its place, there was only duty and quiet despair.

She was the daughter of a powerful house, yes. But in truth, she was little more than a pawn on a marriage board. I could see it now — she wasn’t refusing her family’s choice. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t dare.

Was it out of loyalty? Fear? Or simply the crushing reality that there were no other options?

Fulvia closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at me again with burning intensity. "So tonight, I choose something for myself."

"Won’t your parents be... absent, if they find out you gave your first time to a mere mercenary?" I asked, watching her from the flickering shadows thrown by the brazier. My tone was curious, not mocking, but edged with something darker, more possessive. There was tension in the air between us—tangible, electric. Her skin glistened faintly under torchlight, that patrician blush in her cheeks deepening not with shame, but anticipation.

Fulvia scoffed, eyes rolling, chin held proudly. "They already think I’ve fucked both Marcus Antonius and his brother, so what does it matter?" Her fingers toyed with the gold band at her wrist, but her gaze never left mine. "I went to that party because I wanted to feel something. I was bored of painted Heroes and golden boys with soft hands and empty talk. Then I saw you—leaned against a pillar, sipping wine like you didn’t care who stared. I knew." Her voice dropped a note lower, almost a purr. "You were the one. Perfect for my first."

There was conviction in her voice, like she’d already lived this moment in her mind and made peace with it. She moved closer, hips swaying, the hem of her tunic dragging across marble.

Then her hand, without shame, without hesitation, slipped between her thighs and brushed lightly over the soft lips of her pussy. The sound of slickness—wet skin parting with each stroke—was barely audible over the crackle of firewood, but I heard it. I felt it like a tremor beneath my skin.

"Tell me... what do you want?" she asked, her fingers lazily teasing her folds, two fingers now circling just beneath the hood of her clit. Her eyes didn’t plead—they dared.

I stared at her, voice low. "I want to meet your father. I want to speak with him, man to man."

Fulvia laughed, genuinely, throwing her head back. Her exposed throat curved like a marble sculpture. "Gods, Septimius, you are a mystery," she said between chuckles, her hand never once slowing. "But if I give you what you want... will you give me what I’ve asked? Will you fuck me like I need you to?"

"You’re drunk," I said, though my voice betrayed my restraint.

"Mmm... and isn’t that better?" she sighed, voice sweet and sin-drenched. "At least this way, I won’t feel the pain. Just the heat. Just your cock spreading me open for the first time."

"If that’s what you wish," I murmured, and stepped forward, slowly closing the space between us.

Her breath caught—but she didn’t retreat.

I reached for her face and kissed her.

Her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden pressure of my lips, her gasp soft and needy—"Hmf!"—as I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. I tasted her, tongue brushing her bottom lip, coaxing it open. Her lips were warm, and beneath the scent of wine clung something even sweeter—honeysuckle, perhaps, or the faintest trace of gardenia oil in her hair. I licked her, savoring her taste, and her mouth answered back, the rhythm of our kiss growing more urgent with each heartbeat.

Still stroking herself, her moans became breathier, more desperate—"Mmmnh... hnnnn~"—her hand gliding wetly over her pussy, lips swollen and glistening.

I let my hands slide to her shoulders, fingers tugging at the strap of her tunic. It slipped down, fabric whispering across her skin until it pooled at her hips, revealing her breasts—gorgeous, full, with dusky nipples already stiff from desire. My breath caught at the sight, and I cupped her left breast in my hand, the weight of it perfect in my palm.

"Haahhhhn❤️~! Y-yes... yes... don’t stop," she whimpered, voice shaking as my thumb brushed over her nipple, teasing it with just enough pressure to make her arch forward into my touch.

I bent my head, lips brushing her collarbone first, then lower, kissing a trail across the swell of her breast. My tongue flicked lightly against her nipple—taunting, tasting.

Her response was immediate.

"Nnhhhh❤️~ ahhh❤️... yes~~ lick them, gods, lick them more~ hmmmnnn~ ❤️"

She gripped my hair, pushing my face harder against her chest, her hips grinding slightly on the bed. I wrapped my lips around her nipple, sucking deep, letting the wet sound of it echo in the quiet chamber—slurp, pop, suck—each pull sending her writhing. I sucked hard, then dragged my tongue over the bud, flicking it until she was moaning incoherently.

"HaaAAHN❤️~~! G-Gods, yes! That—just like that! Don’t stop!"

She was panting now, breasts heaving, her other hand still between her legs. I could see how wet she’d gotten, inner thighs smeared with her arousal. Her whole body shivered as I switched to the other breast, lavishing the same worshipful attention on it, flicking my tongue around the nipple in slow circles before biting gently, watching her twitch in pleasure beneath me.

"You’re beautiful," I murmured against her skin, voice muffled by flesh. "And you taste like wine and summer."

Her hand left her pussy and wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me into another kiss, desperate now, greedy. She tasted like hunger, like longing uncoiled at last. Our tongues slid together, hot and wet, while my hands found her waist and gripped her tight.

She broke the kiss with a trembling breath. "I want you inside me... now."

I looked into her eyes—glass-clear, dark with lust but utterly lucid. "Then lay down entirely."

She did, slowly laying back her upper body, legs parting with ease, inviting me with the raw, aching openness of someone who’d wanted this far longer than she’d admitted.

Her tunic bunched around her waist. Her sex was glistening, wetness smeared across her folds, her clit flushed and begging. I knelt between her thighs, stroking them slowly, spreading them wider as I leaned down and blew lightly on her soaked pussy, watching her shudder.

"Septimiusss~ haaaan~~ please... please... touch me... fuck me already!"