I Hate That I Love it

Note: This scene is a continuation/alternate ending of the diamond scene with Marc Antony from Chapter 9. The beginning dialogue is straight from the chapter and diverges when they aren’t interrupted this time. This MC is in love with Syphax and is very conflicted.

Atia listens, amused, as Marc Antony shares details from his childhood. He doesn’t seem at all sad or sentimental, almost mocking the inadequacies of his father and then stepfather after him. Maybe his upbringing explains his hardened exterior, or maybe its all an act to mask the pain.

Atia blinks and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Why should his reasons matter to her? She cares not about his feelings or motivations. Atia is here for one reason only, to ensure she remains in Marc Antony’s good graces for any future favors she may need. She already owes him for his help with Syphax, and she’s certain whatever happens tonight won’t count as payment, as he’s already paid Lena currency for Atia’s company. She tells herself to focus on her goal of finding her family and reuniting with her true love Syphax.

“That seems a terrible way to grow up,” Atia muses to see if he’ll take the bait and let down his emotional guard. Not because she wishes to work her way into his heart, but because opening him up will give her the upper hand. Despite his hardness toward everyone and everything, Atia’s noticed she has a certain hold on him she can’t quite explain, be it purely sexual or something more.

“I don’t know. It left me basically unsupervised, which let me develop important skills like this.” Antony carves an obscene image into the wall behind the podium, and Atia doesn’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted by his brutish behavior. “By the time I was fourteen, I was almost completely on my own. I ran wild. Drinking, gambling, whoring… What did it matter? It wasn’t like I had any great future awaiting me.”

“Not surprising…” Atia thinks carefully about her next words – what will hook him and get him right where she wants him. “I would have liked to have met you then.” She grins seductively and joins him at the podium. “You sound like you were a lot more fun.” The words taste like bile in her mouth as she says them. He is, and probably was, anything but fun. This is anything but fun. She is doing only what she has to do.

Antony’s eyes darken, his voice dropping an Octave or two. “Oh, I can still be fun…” He takes Atia’s hand and roughly jerks her closer to him, their lips just inches apart. She stiffens and holds her breath reflexively before reminding herself to relax and act like she wants it. “Now, what was it we came here for…?” He asks, but she’s knows there is only one answer he’s looking for.

A pang of guilt rips thorough Atia, her mind clouded by the memory of making love to Syphax just the night before. Syphax knows this is part of the duty of a courtesan. He’s told her it doesn’t matter what she’s done with her patrons, so long as she loves him and is waiting for him on the other side of all of this. If only it were that simple.

Atia pushes the thoughts of Syphax out of her mind and wills herself to give into Antony. She cups her hands around his remarkably strong jaw, pulling his face impossibly close to hers, daring him to initiate the next move so she doesn’t have to.  In an instant, he’s got her spun around, back against the podium, kissing her. He’s ravenous, and she catches herself matching his hungry mouth with her own. He comes up for air only to focus on her neck, holding her arms back so she cannot resist as he sucks an bites just hard enough there will be marks left behind. A thrill runs through her at the thought of him wanting to claim her as his own, to show others where he has been, and she hates herself for it.

“Atia…” She wants to be be repulsed by his self-important smirk, but it only makes her want him more.

“Touch me…” The words come out likes they aren’t her own and she suddenly resolves to surrender to her body’s desires. There will be plenty of time to punish herself later.

Antony lifts her onto the podium with his muscular arms like she’s light as a feather. Her legs at chest height, she wraps them around him, guiding him to her. Sparks of electricity dance across her skin through the silk fabric of her dress as Antony works his hands down her body.  He kisses her bare navel and traces his tongue along the gold chains. She gasps at the sensations, cool and hard from the chain, warm and wet from his tongue.

“I’ve wanted you since I saw you the day I returned. There is no woman like you, in Rome or Gaul.”

Her core aching with need at his words, she fails to remember how much she despised him then. All that Atia needs to know now is how soon he’ll be inside her. “I want you too.”

She runs her fingers through his hair and traces the laurel leaves with her fingertips, his powerful status making him all the more enticing. She begins to disrobe Antony, unwinding the length of red linen draped over him, her fingers leaving no expanse of newly bared skin untouched.

Marc Antony shivers beneath her touch. “Mmm…” His hands move up her bare thighs, the silk panels of her skirt easily falling away.

“Bet this is the first time anyone’s done this in the Basilica!” Before Atia can reflect on what exactly Antony means by this, he lifts her legs over his shoulders. He swipes a finger through her slit that’s already dripping for him and follows with his tongue to taste her, his rough stubble scraping between her inner thighs.

“Mmmm…” She whimpers as the ticklish feeling gives way to an almost overwhelming pleasure. It’s a first for the basilica and a first for her as well.

Antony swirls his tongue over her sensitive nub while she writhes beneath his touch, not knowing how much more she can take. He clamps his hands around her thighs, adhering her tight to the podium top and probably further marking his conquest. An intense warmth is building within her abdomen until, without warning, she cries out, her whole body trembling as the feeling shoots outward to her fingers and toes. She bucks against his mouth until the rhythmic spasms in her core subside.

Antony stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste even better than you look,” he remarks before a devilish gleam flashes in his eyes and he undresses there rest of the way, standing completely naked before her. “Now, as fun as that was, that’s not all we came her for. You still aren’t completely satisfied. are you?”

Atia looks down at his rock hard length and looks back up to him, eyes hooded with desire as she shakes her head no.

“Say it Atia. Tell me what you want.” He commands.

“I want you. I need you to make me yours.” She purrs.

A deep growl originates from within Antony and he scoops her up of the podium, Atia reflexively wrapping her legs around his waist. He spins around and backs her up against the cold, smooth stone wall. She loosens her grip, sliding down as he guides himself past her entrance. She’s so slick he glides right in, her walls stretched tight in accommodation.

“Atia…the way you feel…If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a virgin, unless…unless you were saving yourself for me.” He clamps a hand over her mouth, bracing himself hard against the wall with the other. “Don’t say anything. Just let me revel in the fantasy.” At the same time she moans into his hand, inexplicably turned on by the thought of it. He quirks an eyebrow in response. “You like that don’t you. I think I’ll keep your mouth covered just in case. I’d hate for another guard or someone passing by to hear a commotion and come in and ruin our fun.

Antony grunts as his thrusts come harder and faster, hitting a sweet spot within her every time. Her scream is barley audible, muffled by the flesh of his hand as she finds her release again. Antony throws his head back and shuts his eyes as her walls pulse around him. “Atia…” he cries as he spills his seed inside her.

Antony sets her down, ensuring her legs don’t give out before he lets her go. She feels a wetness as his fluids run down her leg which jolts her back to the reality of what just transpired, and she can barely breathe.  “I should get back to the scholae, Lena is expecting me.”  She smiles, but doubts it reaches her eyes.

“I could walk you back.” Antony offers. “The streets aren’t exactly safe at night.”

“No, it’s a short walk. I’ll be fine.” She assures him. The truth is she’s confused. She needs to get away from him fast to escape the spell she’s under. She practically runs out before he can protest further.

As soon as she steps outside, the tears stream down her face. Not because she hated it, and hated him, like she thought she would. She cries because she enjoyed it. She got lost in the feelings and lost in him. She tells herself she must get back and wash it all away. If she can cleanse her skin from all traces of him, wash his scent out of her hair, maybe the guilt and feelings of unfaithfulness to Syphax will go with it.  She’ll accept nothing else because it’s the way she needs it to be.