Weeping Violet

by D W Marshall

  The air is sweeter than anything I have ever experienced, made sweeter by the mix of fragrant blossoms and the sea. The grass is thick and lush as I walk through it to stand at his side. When I turn to inspect The Chamber, I see that it is every bit of the castle that the interior suggests it to be, with vines and colorful flowers crawling up the sides. The breeze tickles my skin and I suddenly have the desire for it to touch every inch of me.

  Mason is closer to me now, an arm's reach away. I move my hands to my shoulders and slide my dress strap from one shoulder, then the next. My eyes are trained on his as my sapphire sheath dress falls into a puddle on the grass at my feet. He never signals for me to stop, and I’m not sure that I’d listen. Instead he watches my every movement, his eyes giving nothing away. Maybe I see a hint of something…. Longing? I step out of my dress and close my eyes as the air dances across my skin. My nipples tighten from the contact and a moan escapes me. When I open my eyes, Mason is staring down at me in awe.

  He closes the distance, his fingers are unsure as they make contact, touching my cheek, running a trail down my throat. He draws slow circles on my shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine. My breath catches in my throat. Who is this shy man? From what I’ve heard from the other girls, he was rough and aggressive, not smooth and tender.

  “Where did you come from?” His voice is soft.

  “New Jersey.”

  His lips crash into mine. It is dizzying how he takes his time, tasting my lips, sucking and pulling them into his mouth, before parting my lips and sinking his tongue inside. Our tongues dance together to music that isn’t there. His hands never wander, no matter how badly I want them to. He pulls me closer, and my bare body presses against his clothing. Hidden muscles reveal themselves as they collide against me. My thighs ache from squeezing them so tight to suppress the yearning between my legs. I break the kiss to take a breath and I am delighted when his lips find mine again. Who knew a sweet kiss could feel like this? I have never done “sweet” before. I have had sex with all of the thirty-five lottery winners since my arrival months ago, and I have not felt satisfied. But somehow this kiss is more satisfying than anything I have experienced to date. How can that be?

  Before I get lost in his kisses, he breaks contact. He locks eyes with me, his expression cautious and frustrated. His breathing is fast and hard, matching mine. He is forcing himself to resist me. I can see it there on his face—lust and desire at war with restraint and trepidation. Why?

  He leans down and snatches my dress up from the grass, then lets out a long breath. When he reaches for my hand I give it to him freely, and we walk back into his room. I am hopeful that we are heading straight to his massive bed. Once inside his demeanor changes, and caution gives way to irritation. Mercurial Mason. Since arriving at his chamber, he has been sweet, nervous, almost shy, and lustful. Now he’s angry? Way to keep me off balance.

  He hands me my dress. “Please get dressed, Emmanuella,” he says, but doesn’t look at me.

  “I thought I was Sapphire—” His glare cuts me off, causing my heart to crawl into my throat. What’s left of my usual confidence and swagger oozes through my pores, chilling my body. This is so weird. He has had sex with all of the other chambermaids, some more than a few times, and after a simple kiss and barely a touch, he won’t even look at me. What’s so wrong with me that the man who created a sex chamber would want nothing to do with me?

  Tears balance on the rim of my eyes as I work my dress back on. Do not cry, Em, not in front of him. I focus on my breathing, and take slow measured breaths. I can’t show this man how important this moment is to me. My hands shake while I’m dressing. He gives me the impression that he favors strength over weakness, but after today, who knows? He has me so confused. Once dressed, I cross my arms in front of my body, hugging myself and attempting to calm my emotions. The energy between us is another entity in the room—colliding with me, causing my heart to race, breaths to turn shallow, and the tiny hairs on my skin to stand tall.

  Our glances go from outright stares to avoiding each other altogether. A chime echoes through the room and Mason jumps to attention, as if he was in a daze. I watch him walk hastily across the room. He opens the door and greets our visitor, a man dressed in white serving attire.

  “Pierre, thank you for putting this together on such short notice.”

  The man nods to me and his smile is warm and sincere. “Anytime, Mason, sir.”

  I stand rooted in my spot and watch with curiosity as Pierre pulls lid after lid from small serving trays of meats and cheese, fruits and vegetables, and breads. The fragrances lift into the air and my stomach growls with want. Once he has placed the food within reach of an intimate table for two, he reaches under the cart and pulls out a bucket with a wine bottle sticking out, followed by another. He uncorks them and places them on the table with the food.

  I watch the spectacle before me, wondering what Mason’s game is. I steal a couple of glances at Mason and he is watching me. His expression is unreadable.

  “Thank you, Pierre,” Mason says once the table is set, but his eyes are on mine.

  “Will there be anything else?” Pierre asks.

  “That will be all, Pierre,” Mason’s eyes drop from my face and trail down to my bare feet, then back up. “Everything looks perfect.” His lips curve almost imperceptibly upward.

  Pierre makes clanging noises as he gathers up his things. I haven’t broken eye contact with Mason, trying to read him at every turn. What is he up to?

  My mind is saying, please want me over and over on a loop. It’s a strange intrusive thought. I’ve never cared if a man wanted me for anything more than sex, because for me, that was all they were good for, too. I try to block the thought, hoping my expression isn’t dopey and hopeful. I can’t give him anything when he isn’t giving me as much as a hint that he wants to do anything with me except eat a meal.

  Pierre says a final goodbye, and the atmosphere in the room changes the second he shuts the door. My breaths are more shallow than before, and my head swims. I reach for the closest of the chairs because I need to sit down.

  “Please, allow me.” Mason rushes to pull out the seat for me. I will my legs to deposit me into the seat, determined to see this through. Mason pushes my seat in closer to the table, before taking a seat across from me. How am I so bad at this? How is he?

  I watch as he pulls this and that from the serving trays and piles everything onto our plates. I pluck a red grape from the vine and pop it into my mouth, licking the sweet juice from my lips. Mason’s eyes fall to my mouth and his forms a hard line. WTF? I’d expected by now we’d be on our third course of fucking in every position—on the floor, on the bed, attached to some medieval apparatus, his cock buried so deep inside of me that I would taste him on my tongue. But, instead, we’re on a date?

  “How has your stay been, Emmanuella?”

  Again with the Emmanuella shit?

  I look up at him, doing my best to keep my expression neutral. A sharp response is on the tip of my tongue, but I select another. “Delightful.” I pair a square of cheese with a salami disc and take a bite.

  “I must tell you, the lottery winners can’t say enough about how much they enjoy their time with you.” He takes a long draw of sparkling white wine, peering down the glass at me.

  My intention is to smile with my eyes, not in flirtation, but with genuine happiness to be here. I’m not sure which emotion I convey. “Well, it is my aim to please.” I turn my attention to my plate. Between the pleasant conversation, formal table, and so much eye contact, this ruse is wearing me out. Sheesh. I’m betting he is studying me every bit as much as I am him.

  All this “normal” has me off-kilter. Heck, I’ve already gotten naked in front of him, and now I have my clothes back on. This is so not how I saw the night going.

  Mason sighs and causes me to look up at him.

  “Yes. Some of the men have asked for extra time with you.”

  “Really?” I
say, though I’m not surprised.

  One of his eyebrows hitches up and his eyes are laser-focused on mine. “I denied their requests, of course.”

  Interesting. I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Was I incorrect? Should I have said yes? You’d be quite busy if I did.” His expression gives nothing away.

  I shrug and return his focused attention. “I mean, what else would I do with my extra time around here?”

  Mason looks down at his plate. “I see. Well, I guess I could tell them you’re available after all.” When he looks up, he has a crestfallen expression. It’s the first time he’s given me some sort of indication he cares. He wants me to say no, he may even need me to.

  I sit up straighter in my seat. “I didn’t say that I wanted to participate in any extracurricular activities with any lottery winners.”

  His eyes grow smaller as he gazes into mine. “You don’t?”

  I shake my head. “Look, Mason. I appreciate how you’ve gone out of your way for me today. The private chambers, the fresh air, the hand-holding, and this spread. But can I ask you a question?”

  His lips curl into a small smile. I do the same.

  “Of course.”

  I let out a breath. “What am I doing here? I mean, like this? You ignore me for six months and when you do finally call upon me, you don’t even want me. Is there something wrong with me?”

  He laughs.

  I’ve asked him the most pressing question, something I have wondered for months as he’s favored the other girls over me. Why am I not enough? And he laughs. If I wasn’t so determined to get my answer, I think I would slap his face.

  “That’s just it, I do want you.” His eyes brighten. “I’m not good at flowery romance shit. I’ve never had to be, and I certainly never wanted to be.” He exhales on a sigh and stares at me for a long time, it seems like his words are hanging on the tip of his tongue. “You scare the shit out of me.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and digest what he just said. “Me? This whole time I thought you were pissed at me and I had no idea what I could have done.”

  He rests his arms on the table. “I want more with you than I ever wanted before. That’s what scares me. But I can’t keep avoiding this…you. I’m not capable of a relationship, you have to know that. But I’d very much like to spend time with you while you are here. I thought if I stayed away from you the feelings would go away. I fought the need and want and it only got worse.” His eyes narrow and crinkle in the corners, suggesting that this is the hardest thing he has ever said before.

  “Wait. I’m confused. So, you’re saying you want to date me?”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand. My body tingles with excitement that is foreign to me. I don’t say anything, hoping that he will continue.

  “I decided today would be the day. To just see. Maybe I was imagining more than what was there. But the second we were alone I knew I wanted more. This is strange for me.”

  “Ha,” I laugh. “Me, too.”

  My blush matches his. Here we are, two sex addicts, skating into unfamiliar territory.

  “What do you say, Emmanuella? You up for spending your free time getting to know me?”

  “I think I can squeeze you in, if you stop calling me Emmanuella.” I say and smile at him.

  He nods. “How about this? We can be August and Emmanuella when we are alone and Mason and Sapphire around everyone else.”

  “That name suits you.”

  We spend the rest of our afternoon exchanging polite conversation. My eyes wander over to the bed and he catches me a couple of times and laughs. I will not get to be sexed up by Mason today, and I have no idea when I will get to explore a day or night with him between my legs. This sex addict, it seems, wants to take it slow with me.

  But he trusted me with his real name. That has to mean something big.

  Continue Reading Shattered Sapphire

  Also by D.W. Marshall

  Read More of The Seven Chambers Series

  Stolen Flame

  Weeping Violet

  Shattered Sapphire

  Poisoned Ivy

  Eclipsed Sunshine

  The Men of the Chamber series

  Dominic

  Door-To-Door Sales Series

  Keep up with D.W. Marshall

  About the Author

  D.W. Marshall is a graduate of Tuskegee University. She is a native of California, but grew up in Las Vegas. If you opened her purse you'd find too many pens for one person, lip balm, and the dreaded receipts that never seem to go away.

  D.W. loves to read dark and sweet romance, fantasy, YA, thrillers, and lives in Las Vegas with her husband, two sons, niece, and her one-eyed Bichon, named Sadie.

  https://linktr.ee/dwmarshall

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a book is a solitary feat. We sit in front of a computer for hours and hours. But, one thing I realized early on is that I’m not alone. There are so many people working behind the scenes that help me in many ways, both big and small.

  God for giving me the love of the written word that has been with me my entire life. My family for listening to my crazy ideas and staying excited for me. To my readers. Thank you. And to my publishing team: The Danielles, Danielle Acee and Danylle Salinas, thank you for keeping me on task because I know I can have “squirrel moments.”