The Passion of Darius

by Raine Miller

  Marianne went back inside to wait. As soon as she stepped through the balcony doors strong arms enfolded her from behind, trapping her securely against a hard, muscular chest. And more than just his chest was hard, too. She could feel every inch of the long, thick length of his cock pressing against her bottom. Marianne couldn’t see Darius because he was behind her, but he was definitely naked, definitely aroused, and definitely intent on having her.

  “Darius,” she gasped, “you surprised me.”

  He nuzzled her neck, warm lips lingering over her pulse, his teeth nipping gently. Big hands drew up and down her bare arms, slowly and possessively. “You surprised me standing out there in this gown, looking like an angel. I was speechless, so I just watched you and thought about what I’d do when you came back inside…”

  “What are you going to do?” She panted against him, her body heating up from the press of his erection and the whisper of his voice.

  “Do you trust me, Marianne?” He swept his hands up her sides, over her ribs, and stopped just under her breasts.

  The anticipation of his hands so close, but not touching, made her arch into him in an attempt to meet the distance. “Yes, I do, Darius.”

  “Good girl.” His hands engulfed both breasts and squeezed. Her nipples budded up hard and tight, and he tweaked them through the thin silk. Sparks of pure pleasure pricked her skin, and she had to swallow the cry on her lips, knowing this was her reward for entrusting her pleasure to him. “Keep trusting me, Marianne. Trust me…and just feel.”

  Marianne shivered, wondering what he would do. It was always the anticipation that got to her. Darius knew how to arouse her until she could do nothing or want nothing but what he could give her. He made her needful.

  “I will. I do,” she whispered. And then he draped a silk sash in front of her face and lowered it onto her eyes. He tied it in a knot. Her blindfold was secure, and she could see nothing. Just feel. That’s what I am going to do.

  DARIUS stepped back and admired from behind. The scanty gown she wore was lovely, but it was time for it to go. He bent, took the hem in his hands, and drew it up, over her head and off. He sighed in contentment. Naked at last. He knew what he did was scandalous but couldn’t imagine having Marianne any other way. Making love with her fumbling in nightclothes in the dark would be a travesty. That luscious body was meant to be devoured with his eyes when he took her.

  He cupped the twin globes of her arse, lifting and forcing her to spread her legs a little. “Such a pretty arse you have, so round and smooth.” He squeezed each cheek from the bottom, the fingers of both hands meeting at her cleft and the slippery wet that drenched it.

  She shuddered when he fingered her quim and moaned a little in that breathy, sexy way. God, when she made that sound it drove him wild, gave him crazy impulses, turned him into a sexual fiend. The need to penetrate her body shouted from inside his brain.

  “I love that you’re wet for me. Soon, my beauty, soon, I’ll be driving inside your sleek, wet quim and making you scream. And then I’ll do it over and over again. All night long until the sun comes up.” She whimpered in protest when he took his fingers away. “Walk for me first. I want to see that beauteous arse. Go on. Take about ten steps straight forward and you’ll get to the side of the bed.”

  She took a tentative step, and then another, and another. She walked her pretty arse over to the edge of the bed and stopped. He groaned from the sight of her muscles flexing and shifting as her long legs moved across the distance. She turned to him even though he knew she couldn’t see him through the blindfold.

  “What do you want, Marianne?” he asked.

  “I want you.” She trembled with need, her breasts vibrating, her nipples hard and peaked.

  “How do you want me, my beauty?”

  “Inside me. I want your cock inside me.”

  Her pleading voice flipped something in his brain. Any control he had maintained throughout the evening simply evaporated all in an instant. He was on her before he could suck in another breath, his hands pushing her torso down on the bed and then gripping to frame her hips. Going at her from behind this way made his cock jerk, like a leaping stallion trying to mount a mare. He became a beast of sorts, wicked and decadent and primal.

  Marianne’s breaths were labored as he split her legs further apart. He could smell her tangy essence blooming for him, wet and hot and ready to receive him. Guiding his cock to her entrance, he sheathed himself to his bollocks in one claiming stroke. The sweet, tight grip of her cunny was so good he thought it a kind of pain, but one he could seek again and again and again. Her heavy breaths stopped when he impaled her, in shock most likely, but she took him all the way to the root without complaint, and then ground back as if she could take even more.

  She’s so damned perfect!

  He had her hard. No doubt about it—this was a hard fucking. But right now, he needed it. Later he could be gentle and slow, but first he had to feed the beast in him. There was only one thing on the menu for the beast, and it was sweet and pink and situated right between Marianne’s thighs. He could get inside her deeper in this position than in any of the other ways. Oh, fucking hellfire, he thought, please never let it end!

  Pumping fiercely, he ground into her like a madman, time slipping away behind a veil of carnal sensation. He had no idea how long he fucked, if it was a second, a minute or an hour, who knew?

  He reached down a finger to glide over her clit, and the second he did, she came, all at once, clenching and shuddering beneath him. Her orgasm ignited his own release. It was nirvana to pleasure her, to feel her body tense up, to hear her cries. He felt his own need bubble up and overflow like wine from a cask. Her glorious response pushed him over the edge where he could embrace the end he sought so desperately. With a shout and a hiss and a gush of hot seed he melded into her and, for one brilliant instant, knew absolute heaven.

  About an hour later she was languid and sleepy in his arms—a well-ridden, thoroughly sated, and stunningly sensual woman. Her blindfold long removed, she had crawled up on him, her head at his chest where she kissed and trailed her sweet lips up to his jaw and his shoulders.

  He thought about all that he had known about her before and all that he knew about her now. Darius was happy to realize he’d been correct in predicting the passion in her. His Marianne was a siren in bed. She was also affectionate, and he adored her touches and gestures. After they made love like this, he liked to hold her close against his body, kissing and stroking over her skin. Whenever she did the same to him, his heart swelled. Marianne made him feel victorious, like a warrior, strong and powerful. But there were many facets to her, and in some ways she was more of a mystery now than before. He sensed a kind of darkness in Marianne and that was a concern. Darius knew his feelings for her were growing stronger with each passing day, and with those feelings, the urge to protect and secure her happiness however he could.

  “Cara, why did you seem sad when Lord Rothvale asked you about your drawings?”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes. To me you did. And he even patted your hand to console you a little, it looked like. Why does drawing the sea make you melancholy?”

  She sucked in a quick breath before answering. “I think it’s because the sea is so demanding.”

  “Demanding?” Her explanation struck him as odd. “In what way?”

  “No matter where I go, the sea calls to me, and it has for a long time. I cannot get away from the pull of the waves, and I fear it will always be so. Somehow, capturing one moment of time depicted in a seascape is soothing for me. That’s why I only draw the—” She shook her head and looked at him. “Enough about that. I want to talk about you. Lord Rothvale is serious about you making a run for the House of Commons, and I think he is right. You would be very good, Darius…”

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head, thinking about how she’d just avoided his questions so neatly. Marianne was loving and kind and attentive. He could not fault her a
s a wife in regards to how she embraced her many duties and responded to him. And he believed her sincere. So why then was there this persistent nag in the back of his mind telling him that Marianne wasn’t being completely honest?

  13th July, 1837

  Darius is getting closer to my secret. He wanted to know why I seemed melancholy when Lord Rothvale asked me the question about my drawing. How can I tell him the truth? And if I do, will his good opinion of me be lost? I cannot bear the idea. It hurts me too greatly to contemplate.

  MG

  CHAPTER 12

  The Gift

  A week passed before he said it again.

  Marianne searched in all of the usual places. She’d come to her study to review the housekeeping accounts, but the books weren’t here. Her desk had been rearranged as well. Very odd. She would inquire to Mrs. West and get to the bottom of the mystery. Shuffling through another drawer in her quest, she didn’t hear him come in.

  “Looking for something, my darling?”

  “Oh, Darius. Yes, actually. I came up here to review the accounts, but I cannot find the housekeeping books. They are nowhere in this room that I can see, and someone’s been fumbling around my desk.”

  “Well that’s no good at all. We must find the culprit and see to a swift punishment.” He walked over and pulled her up.

  Marianne knew he was up to something as soon as he started in on the teasing. She could smell it on him.

  “What do you know, Darius?”

  “Only that your neck flushes when you get frustrated.” He smirked. “And you get a little crease, right here, between your eyes.” He brushed the place with his lips.

  “Well, yes I’m frustrated—I cannot find the books!”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll turn up, Marianne. Probably sooner than you think. These things have a way of working out.” He waved a hand in dismissal.

  She observed him carefully. He looked very smug and rather devious. “Did you want…something, Darius? You know, when you came in here?”

  “I s’pose a kiss would be nice, but that’s not why I came to find you. Actually I am in need of your opinion on something. Will you come and let me show you?” He held out his hand, a definite leer of mischievousness above that firm jaw.

  She took his offered hand and let him lead her down the corridor and into the south wing of the house. He stopped them at a door near the end of the hall.

  “What I want you to see is in here.” He smiled knowingly. “Now close your eyes.”

  “Another surprise? Don’t you get tired of surprising me, Darius?” She eyed him warily.

  “Never! Now be a good girl and close your eyes,” he growled.

  She obeyed because it was what she did when he gave her an order. She closed her eyes and heard him open the door. He brought her into the room.

  “You may open your eyes now, Marianne.”

  She looked around the elegant room and fell in love. It faced south and had a picture window with a view of the sea framed in one wall. A lady’s desk was arranged afore the window, for light. There were upholstered chairs in a turquoise silk and a large chaise set before the fireplace. The earthy colors of blue, green, and the dark brown woods appealed to her. The thick carpet was warm and luxurious. This was an absolutely flawless room.

  “What is this place?”

  He didn’t answer as she walked over to the desk. She put her hands on the English oak and splayed out her fingers. What a magnificent working desk, she thought. You could sit at this desk and view the sea anytime you wished. How pleasant it would be to relax in a room such as this.

  “Sit down, Marianne.”

  She pulled out the chair and sat. She looked out the window. The day was gusty, the choppy whitecaps bobbing for miles. A lone merchant vessel sailed by

  “Open the middle drawer.”

  The drawer contained engraved stationary for correspondence. Lifting a sheet of the heavy linen paper, she read the engraving, Mrs. Marianne Rourke, Stonewell Court, Kilve, Somerset. A breathy laugh escaped and she brought her other hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound. She could feel Darius had moved. He was directly behind her.

  “Now open the bottom, right drawer.”

  The sound of wood sliding against wood squeaked harshly in the quiet between them. The account books. Her housekeeping books were stacked neatly and ordered just as they should be in the drawer.

  “Oh…Darius…”

  “Do you like your new study, Marianne?”

  She leapt up and spun around. He was right there before her, smiling broadly.

  “Like it? No! ‘Like’ is an unsuitable word for how I feel about this room. Darius, I love this room!”

  She leaned up to kiss him on the lips. She put a hand to his cheek and asked, “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I know how much you like the views and thought you deserved a nice place for your work. A beautiful place for a beautiful woman.” He turned his lips to kiss her palm still resting on his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Deserved. There was that word again. He said she deserved this room, but really she didn’t. Would he still think her deserving if he knew? Still, she wouldn’t hurt his feelings. She’d accept his lovely gift and show Darius her appreciation as a dutiful wife should.

  “You might even be able to sketch up here, the light is good. Anyway, I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

  “I am, Darius. Very much so.” She embraced him and felt his strong arms wrap around her.

  The knock at the door alerted them that the tea had arrived. Both pulled out of their embrace at the same time. Sitting side by side on the chaise they watched quietly as the maid set out the tea for them. Marianne looked at Darius, so dignified and handsome as he waited for the maid to finish and leave them alone again.

  Darius picked up a strawberry from the plate and held it to her lips. “Open your mouth and bite.” His eyes awaited, looking covetous and hungry now.

  She covered the berry and closed her teeth over it. Juice squirted around her tongue, the tangy sweet perfume releasing into the air. She chewed the soft fruit and swallowed slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

  He lunged and was on her in an instant. His tongue pushed deep and swirled over every inch of her mouth, sweeping up traces of the lingering strawberry flavor.

  She felt herself go instantly wet for him. The heat flooded her between the thighs, and she had to clench them together for relief.

  He pulled back, arched his brow, and stared.

  She stared back.

  He touched her forehead gently.

  “What do you think about in that mind of yours, Marianne? So many thoughts you must have. When you look like you do right now…I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

  “Right now I’m thinking I want to do something…for you, Darius.”

  His nostrils flared and his eyes widened. “What do you want to do for me, Marianne?” he whispered with controlled breath.

  She moved from the chaise and knelt on her knees before him. Lifting her face, she pierced him with her eyes and rubbed her lips together.

  Darius opened his mouth in surprise, but no sound came forth. He was a tight as a bowstring and ready to snap, but choked out the command. “Tell me what you want to do. Say the words.”

  She was relentlessly frank with him. “I want to suck your cock, Darius.”

  A kind of whimper came out of him, and she liked the sound he made. She moved her fingers quickly, releasing the buttons that covered him. His cock sprang out proud and hot in her hands. Gripping at the base with one hand, she lowered her mouth. Her tongue licked at the tip. She could smell his musky male scent. He jerked sharply and then arched into her touch as she closed over the head and pushed him to the back of her throat.

  Darius moaned and strained under her onslaught. His harsh breathing just about matched the pace of her sliding strokes. He gripped her head and pumped into her mouth. And she liked every bit of what he did. From the f
irst, Marianne had found pleasuring him with her mouth to be exciting—never unpleasant. He did the same for her, and she loved that, too. He gave her orgasms when he put his tongue to her. But Darius had never allowed her to finish him with her mouth. She wanted to know what it was like when he exploded in passion and her tongue was around him.

  She could tell he was close and doubled her efforts of sucking as he slid in and out. She enfolded his bollocks in her free hand and squeezed the tightening sac. All in a rush it happened. She felt the burst under her hand and heard the gasping above her head. The warm gush filled her mouth, and she held it as he convulsed into her throat, feeling victorious, and strangely happy.

  When she pulled back from him they shared another look. He stared at her mouth. She slowly swallowed the salty tang and smiled at him. His face broke in an expression of near pain, and he answered her in a rush of sentiment, spoken in Italian, the words harmonious and flowing, but nevertheless unknown to her.

  Darius recovered quickly, restored his clothing, swept her up into his arms, and marched her all the way to their bedroom. Marianne’s clothes were stripped from her body the instant the bolt was thrown. He plucked out her hairpins, buried his hands in her hair, and was inside her before she could blink.

  He became a ravening beast who took her wildly, looming over her, his driving hips splitting her thighs as wide as they could go. He suckled her hard, too, leaving fresh love bites on her back when he flipped her and took her from behind, plundering her deep and furious.

  After that wild session, he settled down and slowed the pace. Languid and unhurried, he lapped at her cunny, tasting her, teasing her clit, making her climax again and again. He whispered more words to her in Italian. She still didn’t understand the meaning but found the sound of them to be very wonderful indeed.

  “Your Italian words are beautiful, Darius. Why Italian?”

  He looked surprised. “You do not know about my mother?”