The world narrowed to the space between us as Lucretius began to lift my skirt, the fabric whispering against my skin in the cool night air.My breath hitched, a sharp, audible intake of anticipation as I watched him lower himself to his knees before me. The powerful, indomitable man who commanded armies and senates was now kneeling at my feet, an offering of utter devotion.My fingers found their way into his hair again, gently clutching the dark strands, grounding myself against the overwhelming swell of emotion and desire. He looked up at me, his gaze burning with an intensity that promised both worship and ruin. He held my eyes as he reached beneath the hem of my skirt, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path up my thigh until they found the flimsy lace of my panties. There was a pause, a heartbeat of suspended silence, and then with a sharp, decisive tug, he tore them. The fabric gave way with a rending sound that was shockingly loud in the quiet garden, and a sharp gasp es
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