The Passion of Darius

by Raine Miller

  They thrust together wildly. Back and forth, advance and retreat. She felt the spasms starting and bore down to squeeze tightly around him. Her shuddering cries must have told him she was climaxing, triggering an explosive release in him.

  “Ahhh…ohhh…God, I’m going to come!”

  She felt Darius get impossibly harder, just before he spurted his seed. It shot up deep, and she could smell the earthy scent she remembered from before.

  He worked her fast, up and down, one last burst, his fingers gripping into the seam of her bottom. One final thrust finished the frenzy, and he crushed her to his chest, his cock jerking spasmodically.

  He choked out roughly, “Bellissima, you are most splendid…”

  Easing down from fulfillment, they stroked each other. Marianne rubbed his back and kissed his collarbone. Darius kissed his favorite spot on her neck and caressed low on her hips. They stayed locked together for a long time.

  Marianne felt his erection slowly soften inside her.

  Eventually he roused them up to standing again. Helping her up, Darius kissed her deeply on the mouth and swept her into his arms, never breaking contact with her lips.

  He carried her that way back to the bed, whispering through soft kisses the whole way. Cradling her head carefully, he laid her out, down on the bed. Darius was so gentle and tender in the way he touched her, it nearly caused her tears to return.

  “Responding so sweetly to me, your skin touching mine is blissful, my Marianne.”

  Being drawn close, Marianne indulged in the comfort of his sculpted body next to hers.

  They stared at one another, lying on their sides, eyes each studying the other’s features. Marianne memorized every line, ridge, and hollow of his handsome face.

  “I am glad, Darius, that I please you,” she finally spoke, sighing into the security of his embrace, relishing the solace of being cherished. “I want to. It makes me feel…better. You know what I need.”

  He stroked over her hair. “I do know, Marianne, and I will always give you what you need. It is my duty to care for you and protect you now, and it gives me great pleasure to do so. Precious—that’s what you are. You are precious and perfect to me, Marianne.”

  Far, far from perfect, Darius!

  1st July, 1837

  I have learned of the pleasures of belonging to another. He makes me burn when he touches me. The discovery has been a revelation, and he is always kind. Demanding, but gentle with me, and done in a way that I adore. Darius always knows exactly what I need. I trust him. I want to be a good wife for him, but worry the day will come when I disappoint him.

  MG

  CHAPTER 10

  The Realization

  DARIUS paused to look at Marianne, still sleeping in their bed. Her shining hair flowed out like a glossy halo upon the pillow. The sheet had slipped down, exposing one beauteous breast. Darius felt his breath catch at the sight of her. So beautiful. The stab to the gut that followed upon the heels of his admiration was so powerful, he widened his eyes at the sensation of pain. He wondered how unrecognizable he had truly become from the man he used to be. The past month had changed him. Marianne had changed him.

  As the new mistress of a large estate, there had been much to acquaint her with. The house was named Stonewell Court, due to the light gray stone of which it was built, and stood along the southern coast. The sea could be viewed from the back of the house, which delighted Marianne. She’d told Darius so, and he didn’t forget details like that.

  There were an abundance of servants to introduce. Mr. and Mrs. West ran most business about the estate and house¸ Mr. West as Darius’s steward, and Mrs. West as the housekeeper.

  There were also the dogs. Darius had two wolfhounds, Brutus and Cleo, who took a great liking to their new mistress. If Marianne was outside, they were sure to be with her. When they were allowed inside the house, both were liable to be stretched out at her feet. Marianne told him she didn’t mind. Darius had teased, saying she’d quite stolen away their loyalty to him, but secretly he was glad she did not mind the dogs, for their guard eased his worry some.

  Upon this day though, Darius had business calling him away for the morning, and thus the reason for the stealth in observing his wife’s womanly charms while she slept.

  His breath caught at the sight, when she opened her eyes. So blue.

  “Good morning, beautiful wife. I s’pose you’ve caught me leering at you before I must go.” He reached out his knuckles to trace over the creamy, rounded flesh, her nipple hardening in response.

  Catching his hand, she brought it to her lips. “You are leaving.”

  He nodded, loving the fact she’d kissed his hand. “Solicitors first, then some business with Greymont on a matter he’s asked for some support.”

  “When will you return?”

  He smiled at that. “Will you be missing me today, my sweet?”

  She gave him the tiniest of nods and then a look.

  “Did you want to say something, Marianne?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me then. Say what you want me to know.”

  She hesitated before answering him. He could tell she struggled with her choice of words. “I am glad you stayed to wish me farewell. Please never leave me without a goodbye, Darius. I need that from you.” She regarded him solemnly, her face a mask of intriguing beauty.

  “Of course, my darling.” He bent and kissed her lips, her neck, and finally her bared breast, covering the nipple and grazing with his teeth. “You taste so good,” he moaned. When she arched into him he had half a mind to crawl back into the bed with her.

  She did that to him. The need to have her was incessant. Morning, afternoon, night…didn’t matter. The merest glimpse or gesture from her and he was lost. His cock was greedy when it came to Marianne. Darius wondered if his need for sex would ever abate. The more he had of her, the more he seemed to crave. And it wasn’t the sex—it was her that drove him.

  “What will you do today, Marianne?”

  “I thought I might ride over to Papa’s for a visit.”

  “Very well,” he said quietly. “Please take the dogs with you, and don’t stay too long. Remember we have dinner with the Rothvales tonight.”

  “I’ve not forgotten about it.”

  Darius was puzzled as he left though. Marianne had asked something of him for the first time. She never asked him for much of anything. He had to be extra vigilant to make sure she wasn’t in need of something, for usually she would never ask on her own.

  She was resolute about some things though. Marianne had continued to care for her father even after the wedding. She would go and keep company with him at her old house, a house which now belonged to him. Darius did not wholly approve, but he allowed her to do it. She was a dutiful daughter. Dutiful in all aspects as it was her nature. He sensed, and rightly so, that she needed to continue caring for her father. Being a dutiful son himself, he understood.

  Darius tried to be an attentive husband. Frankly, he couldn’t keep away from her for very long. He knew he was demanding of her. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. The bedsport was magnificent, but it was Marianne’s acceptance of him that was so sweetly given.

  And every time was so good with her.

  Desiring to have Marianne close, as well as to touch her, all the time, was his typical response. He was hard pressed to keep away if she was within his reach, and it wasn’t always for the sex. He sought the comfort of being intimate with her in any situation. Marianne’s generous nature only made him want her more. And Darius knew why, too. He’d desired her for years, but now he knew his feelings were more than just desire. Much more.

  He had fallen completely and utterly in love with his wife.

  UPON his return, Darius hunted Marianne down. He found her in the library. She looked lovely standing at the window, reading a book in the light that the panes allowed in. At the sound of his steps, she turned. “You are back.”

  Darius nodded, leaning in the d
oorway, feeling wild, his cock flaring to life when she smiled at him, her blue eyes glittering, taking in the sight of him.

  His breath grew heavy, moving his chest. His cock lengthened, struggling uncomfortably in his trousers. He bolted the door.

  “You look fretful, Darius. Are you?”

  He nodded again, stalking forward.

  “Why are you fretful, Dar—”

  He pounced. Like a wolf upon a rabbit, covering her in possession. The book fell to the floor with a thud, echoing off the walls. Pinning her against the window, only one thought ran through his mind. Because I need to fuck you.

  “Sorry, bella, I’ve thought of you all day, and I need to get my cock inside you right now.”

  “Ahhh, Darius!” She yelped as he picked her up and set her on the writing table.

  His frank declaration served to fuel the need for her to unimaginable heights. Sweeping her skirts aside, he spread her wide before him, released his straining prick, and seated himself to the hilt. Looking down, he watched it disappear into the dark pink folds of her pussy. So hot. So stretched. So exquisite, his chest got tight from the knowledge. When he pulled out, his shaft shone, slick and wet from being inside her.

  “God! You’re so wet and ready for me!” That she was so responsive provoked him. “You’re always like that, Marianne! God, it’s so good—having—my—cock—in—side—you!” He punctuated each word with a thrusting stroke as he fucked into her. Hard.

  He knew his wicked talk would incite her, too. Marianne liked it a little rough.

  The sex pounded on, both of them lost to the cravings. His cock drilling into her tight grip, he felt her stiffen, readying herself for that delicious reward of the twisting coil of orgasm. Crying out his name as the sensations reverberated; she rode it out, looking wild and otherworldly in his arms.

  Watching her come was a most beauteous thing, Darius thought. Seeing that moment of pure awareness in her expression was the fuse in bringing him to his own explosive release. Feeling her inner muscles squeeze tightly around his cock, he finally had to let go.

  As he spilled out his release, he relished every spurt of spunk that washed into her, working it deep inside, sending it where it needed to go. He liked knowing she had his seed in her. He rationalized that it satisfied some primal male need to mate with her and produce his heirs. He wasn’t sure if that was the reason, but regardless, he needed to put his seed in her, and the more of it the better.

  MARIANNE did indeed thrill at his coarse words and the forceful sex. She loved the way Darius made her feel when he wanted her like this, like he needed her to live, to sustain his life. Like she was the only one who could satisfy his burning desires. At least that was how he made her feel. Even if it wasn’t true, she would still embrace it for the pleasure it gave to him and to her.

  Finally stopping, he came to a rest, covering her as she lay atop the table.

  “Mia cara…ti amo.” He whispered the words under his breath.

  Despite his whispering, Marianne still heard him. She also knew what his words meant. Marianne was not fluent in Italian, but she knew he’d said, “I love you.”

  She stiffened underneath him and felt her newfound peace break apart like nest full of eggs hit with a stone.

  Marianne waited for it. Waited for Darius to tell her to say it in return. She thought he might, but prayed he would not. She didn’t think she could form the words from her mouth. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest and she felt the need for air.

  Darius did not tell her to say it back. That command never came, and Marianne knew relief as the minutes wore on.

  So, she did not offer the words back to him.

  Powerful little words.

  Marianne had to pause and wonder if Darius was aware of what he’d said to her. And if he was sincere, or rather succumbing to the passion of the moment. Marianne was finding that the sex had a way of breaking down reserve in the most powerful way.

  At least for her it did.

  12th July, 1837

  Today my husband said he loved me. He spoke his words in Italian, and in the heat of passion to leave me unsure if he was fully aware of what he said. I expected him to tell me to return the sentiment, but he never did. I am left with the incredible idea that he must feel more for me than he should. How is it possible for Darius to love me? How can that be? I know I shouldn’t covet the idea, but I do…

  CHAPTER 11

  The Ravishing

  SO, my dear, have you kept up with your sketching?” Lord Rothvale asked her at dinner.

  “Yes, my lord. I try to put some time into it at least once per week,” Marianne answered.

  “Well, I’ve seen your work, and it’s very good. Have you ever considered formal study?”

  Marianne shook her head. “No, sir. Your Byrony is the real talent. Her portraits are so intuitive. She will know fame one day, I predict. For me, I just enjoy the sketching as a creative activity, and I only seem to want to paint the sea. It’s the one subject I come back to over and over again.”

  Lord Rothvale gently patted her hand. “That’s understandable, my dear,” he said kindly. “When Mr. Mallerton comes for his yearly holiday the two of you should collaborate. He enjoys seascapes as well.”

  “I would love to meet him, my lord. The great Mr. Mallerton, here in Somerset, working alongside me? I would be so enamored and dazed, I doubt I would be able to speak, let alone draw anything.” Marianne couldn’t imagine the scenario, but would be so honored to meet the great master himself. Lord Rothvale and Tristan Mallerton had gone to school together and were the best of friends. Moments like these made her wonder if she was indeed dreaming.

  Lady Rothvale spoke up, “Marianne, darling, you should have your portrait painted by Mr. Mallerton when he is here. Don’t you agree, Mr. Rourke?”

  “I shall inquire for one myself, my lady. There is nothing I would love more than a portrait of my wife,” Darius replied smoothly. He probably would commission a portrait of her, Marianne thought. The very idea was almost too much to consider, but she knew her husband well enough already to know he would do what he wished on the matter.

  Lord Rothvale directed his next comment to Darius. “What do you think of your wife’s artistic talent there, Rourke?”

  “Well, I think she’s quite accomplished, and I love to watch her at work. The concentration, the furrowed brow, the intensity with which she studies the seascape is fascinating. She’s very hard on herself, though. Never pleased with what she’s drawn when to my eye it looks good enough for your National Gallery,” Darius said.

  Lord Rothvale chuckled. “Getting that thing founded will be my life’s work, I suppose, and much harder than it ought to be, but then, worthwhile endeavors usually are. We’ll make sure to leave a nice wall for her.” He winked at Marianne. “Now if I can just get your husband to consider public service, I imagine how much good could be accomplished with men like him in Parliament. What do you say, Rourke? Make a run for the constituency at Kilve?”

  “I’m thinking about it, my lord,” Darius told him, but he looked at Marianne. There was hunger in his eyes. Marianne knew he wasn’t thinking about politics right now. He was thinking about what he wanted to do to her when he got her all to himself.

  THE staring only got worse on the ride home. Darius sat opposite her in the carriage, his eyes roaming over her body in a ravenous sweep that left no doubts about what was on his mind. She shivered in anticipation, feeling herself go wet between the thighs. Apparently their frantic session in the library before dinner had only whet his appetite for a more leisurely paced encounter tonight.

  “Come to my room this time,” he whispered in her ear when he escorted her up to her chamber. “I’ll be waiting for you, my beauty…and don’t bother wearing much.” He bore the grin of a devil. A very handsome, but lascivious devil.

  Marianne chose one of her new French nightgowns, a Madame Trulier specialty. Very scant, sleeveless silk in ice-blue, low cut and close fitting s
o every curve was emphasized. He’d said not to wear much, and to her eye it certainly qualified. It was a moot point though, because she wouldn’t have it on for long. Darius would have her naked in a heartbeat.

  Pushing open the door to the master’s chamber, she felt the muscles in her abdomen clench and the need for air into her lungs increase. His effect on her was consistent. It wasn’t fear for he never hurt her, but he did rattle her—most thoroughly. When Darius wanted her, she got nervous. Not because she didn’t want the intimacy, but because she did. He was a very skilled lover, taking her body to places she could never have imagined, and made her lose herself in exquisite sensations of pleasure and wantonness so intense that it was a little frightening. The anticipation of what was waiting never failed to make her skittish. And she knew something else, too. Darius liked her a little skittish in the beginning so he could woo her and enjoy her submission when he brought her to ecstasy.

  The room was dim, and she didn’t see him anywhere in it. He wasn’t in the enormous bed, and he wasn’t by the hearth. She thought it odd that she could have beaten him in preparing for bed. Darius was always the one willing, ready, and waiting on her.

  Sighing, she walked to the balcony doors and went outside. The summer air was warm, and the stars shone clear. It was a beautiful night, and she could smell honeysuckle wafting up to her from the vines below. The sweet scent reminded Marianne of her mother.

  Now that she was married, Marianne wondered about her own parents. Had they shared the kind of passion Marianne had in her own marriage? She smiled and shook her head. Hard to imagine. Nothing had really prepared her for the intimacy of sex. Being so close with Darius physically, had quickly broken down her emotional walls. Aloofness was impossible when another person was inside your body and making you cry from the pleasures they gave you.