The Passion of Darius (Somerset Historicals 1)

“Yes.” Marianne would enjoy the thrill of riding again, it appeared. If she felt she could embrace the enjoyment she would tell him so, but she did not feel it would be honest.

They traversed inland, skirting over stones and grass until they reached a copse of trees. Darius announced it was a good place to stop and rest the horses. His strong arms reached for her and brought her down to stand on firm ground. He did not release her, but looked into her eyes. “What is bothering you?”

“Nothing,” she said stiffly, knowing her answer would not be satisfactory to Darius. He would demand an explanation from her now. And she knew she would give it to him.

“Yes, there is something. You are melancholy, I can see it clear as day. Tell me.” He rephrased it for her. “You want to tell me, Marianne.”

Feeling a wash of relief fold over her, she lowered her gaze and whispered, “I–I don’t deserve all of this.” She shifted her eyes to rest upon Tempest. “It is too much, Darius. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t—”

“—I think you deserve it, and I’ll help you get comfortable. Say to me, ‘I deserve everything Darius gives me.’ Say that, Marianne.” His voice firm, harder than she had ever heard, commanded her. And she was helpless against his masterful directives.

“I…I deserve…everything Darius gives me.”

“Yes, you do deserve everything, and now I’ll make sure you’re convinced.” He took a blanket from the travel pack and spread it out on the ground. “I know what you need.” He held out his hand to her. “Lie down with me, Marianne.”

She carefully removed her hat before obeying. Marianne held on to his gaze as she lowered herself onto the blanket. Joining her, he stared down, his eyes raking over her, almost reverently, she thought. Darius certainly knew how to impel her, for it was ea

sy to do his bidding.

She saw her eyes mirrored in his dark ones, the reflection easily visible as he descended. He began at her lips. Working leisurely, he used his teeth to scrape over her lips and tongue, gently grazing and sucking them into his mouth. He nipped along her jaw and under her chin. His hard body pressed into her side, then turned her to face him, seeking alignment from head to foot.

They fit against each other well, she thought.

After some time, he pulled back and stared again, focusing in on her face. No, it was above her face. He leaned down again and kissed her hair and inhaled. Whatever he asked of her, she knew she would do.

“Take your hair down for me.”

She struggled to sit up, and he was quick to assist. Then he watched greedily as she removed the pins that held her hair. Darius sighed just before she plucked the last pivotal pin, her dark curls tumbling down in a curtain around her face. He looked happy watching.

Reaching out his hand, he lifted a curl and brought it to his nose. His face, so close she could feel the intake of breath drawing from her and into him. Warm lips came down on her almost desperately, seeking deep entry. His velvet tongue plumbed her as he pressed her back down on the blanket.

Fisting handfuls of her hair, he breathed in the scent, his weight settling back against her side. “I’ve imagined you like this with your glorious hair flowing free, lying in our bed, waiting for me.” His mouth moved to her neck, grazing in the hollows with gentle lips and teeth. “Open the top of your dress. I want to see you, Marianne.”

She did not hesitate. Her fingers moved quickly to tackle the neck cloth and unbutton her jacket. Darius helped. Pushing open her bodice, he was presented with the view of her breasts swelling above an alluring French silk corset. One that he had chosen for her. She knew he had thought of her wearing the garments against her skin. Darius had said. He also saw the pearls he’d given her, and froze. A ragged breath, and then another more controlled one expelled from him slowly, as if he needed to control his response.

“You wore them.” Kissing over the tops of her breasts, he purred, exploring every uncovered inch, with wandering, but determined, lips. He even kissed the pearl crucifix framed below her throat. He had soft lips.

“Bellissima, so beautiful.”

She liked his Italian words very much. When Darius said things to her in Italian, he sounded more intimate, and made her feel very adored. But his next move was bold, commandeering in its way. Cradling one hand behind her head, the other reached under her skirt and swept up her leg. She stiffened and shook her head. He just smiled and kept going, up to the top of her thigh. His hand moved inside, toward her sex. “Open up for me, Marianne. You want this. You want me to touch you. Don’t be afraid, bella. I want to feel you…and so, you want the same.”

Sobbing out a moan, she obeyed, moving her legs apart. She quickly succumbed to tremors as his hand burned on her thigh.

“Your skin is so smooth, like the silk that covers you,” he murmured.

Holding the back of her head, he forced her to look up at him. His long, elegant fingers journeyed on, burrowing in between more silk undergarments to the apex between her legs.

Oh God! He’s going to touch me…there.

Her legs grew rigid, and she tried to close them, but Darius wouldn’t allow it. His touch was firm as his determined fingers found her center and buried into the short curls that covered her cunny.

She sucked in a gasp at the feel of his hand plying her.

His fingers pressed a little harder, the pressure allowing her folds to part. That burning hot gate of entry he sought. It burned as hot as his eyes did, seeking complete surrender from her. One finger forged ahead of the others, pressing deeper still, and delved inside.

Marianne jerked hard when he invaded her, and groaned low in her throat. He was inside her body with his finger!

“Shhh,” he whispered, holding her firmly. “It’s all right,” he crooned at her lips, stroking into her slick cunny with his finger while hovering barely an inch from her face.