Timeless Voyage

He set the brass horn down on the table with a clank. Grinning at her boldness, he wondered why a druidess from Ynys Mon would protect him. Yet when he gazed into her green eyes he felt as if he knew her. He trusted her with his very life. A gentle warmth flowed though him. He felt close to her, as if she’d always been by his side. Like she knew him better than anyone. "M’lady, you spared my life. How shall I reward such valiant service?"

"I ask no reward of you."

He stepped closer. "My ship?” His gaze fell onto the ripe pink plums that were her lips. “My cargo?" He watched, breathless, as they parted slightly. "Ah, lady I shall offer you my kiss." He licked his lips.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Kaeso took her face in his hands and leaned forward until their lips met. The sensation of licking flames overcame him. His lips pressed harder against the hot, wet flesh of hers. Smothering her mouth, he devoured its softness. As he suckled its sweetness, his lips parted hers. He thrust his tongue into her mouth. The savage music of her soft mews boiled his blood. His erection swelled at the warmth of her kiss and the fulfillment it gave him. These were the lips he remembered, the taste, the softness of them. The warm, full, honeyed lips he had searched for ever since he began turning his head to take a second glance at maidens walking down the streets of Rome. He tore his mouth away from her swollen lips. His mouth still burned. His heart pounded. His mind swirled with thoughts. How could it be? I’ve kissed those lips before, I know I have. But I haven’t.

His blood soared and his mind burned with a vivid image, a daydream, of flames, a blazing bonfire dancing before him. It seemed so real. He stood nude, with woad symbols adorning his muscular arms and she was there. Standing at his side. How can it be?

He recalled, she wore three daisies in her flame red hair, which fell loose, unbraided. A chain of the spring flowers, with white petals and bright yellow centers, dangled from her slender neck, down to her jutting, pink-tipped breasts. He remembered her gleaming eyes, full of hunger, gazing at him. She stood nude before him. A blue woad symbol of the sun was painted on her shoulder. He recalled the moans and panting sounds of coupling from all the Beltane partners making love before the fire. But he had eyes only for her.