Summary:

“Does the Dominus enjoy serving a slave?” Ilya murmured. Shane looked up at him through dark lashes. His mouth was a hairsbreadth away from Ilya’s cock, and Ilya could see the exact moment the last of his composure burned out, shedding, the way a snake left its old skin behind, eyes bright and body underneath already new— —and instead of answering, Shane licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft, root to tip. The law calls Ilya a slave. The mob of Rome calls him their lion, their Gladiator. Senator’s son Shane calls him to his bed. Now Shane wants to call him free, but that means owning him first.