The Passion of Darius (Somerset Historicals 1)

“Hmmm… But things are as they should be, my beauty.” He turned toward her, cradling her face up to his with both hands so she could see him when he told her the rest. “It was my joy to show you. I adore making you burn.” He kissed her softly, teasing her lips with his tongue. “I will continue to do it again and again because I know I cannot stop. You are too addicting, Marianne. And you make me burn like fire, just as hot.” He kissed along her jaw and then her throat. “This is only the beginning, my bella. I have dreamed of you like this, discovering every part of you, mia cara—my dearest one.”

“D-ariusss…” she breathed, her lips trembling, emotion clearly giving way to her usual reserve. He loved having her undone like this, naked and tangled with him, still flushed from her climax, soft and yielding against him.

So Darius showed Marianne again, and while he did, the same word continued to come to him as their bodies moved together. Mine.

CHAPTER 9

The Lesson

DARIUS woke in the night. The wind blew hard outside, rattling the trees against the house. Something wasn’t right—she was not next to him in the bed. “Marianne?” He was unable to thwart the edge of panic escaping in his voice. Even he could hear it.

“I am here,” her soft voice answered.

He followed the sound to the fireplace where she sat before the fire, hugging her knees. She had put her gown back on. The diaphanous thing trailed over the rug. Her long, dark curls rioted over her shoulders and down her back.

She looks like a goddess. And she is mine now. Truly mine.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “What are you doing down there?”

“Thinking.”

“Of what, my darling?”

“Many things.”

“Are you well, Marianne?”

She looked over at him then. Her eyes looked full of mystery and understanding at the same time. “Yes, Darius.”

He shrugged into his robe before coming down to the rug, sitting back on his knees, facing her. For long minutes he stared, enjoying the view.

Gorgeous.

Marianne held his gaze and waited.

“You are so lovely. Your body is glorious. I want to see you. Take off your gown. You want to take it off for me, don’t you?”

“I do,” she answered.

He watched as she got to her knees and sat back before lifting the hem of her gown up over her head.

A woman of splendid form—that’s what Marianne was. Breathtakingly fine. Delectable breasts with dusky rose nipples hardened immediately under his desiring gaze. They were marked all over with the feathery love bites he had made earlier. A flat stomach, slender waist, and the flare of lush hips framed the dark V of curls at the top of her thighs. That mysterious place he desired to know evermore. He wanted inside her again. No, he had to be inside her again!

Those eyes of hers, waiting…waiting…always waiting, looked to him for direction.

DARIUS opened his robe. His body was more beautiful than hers, Marianne thought. A beautiful man. Superb in physique. Smooth golden skin, rippled muscles on his lower chest and abdomen, the trail of dark hair that dipped low to encircle his cock. Sitting before her boldly, his shaft hard, needing her again, with no unease in his nudity, Darius wanted to take her again. Marianne knew all of this.

She thought about how it had been with him. Intimate, raging, tempestuous. He’d been inside her, pulsing and thrusting wildly, going deep. He’d filled her up with his seed and given sensations like she’d never known.

Once he’d told her she was beautiful when she took her pleasure and he’d loved watching it happen. She now understood what he’d meant. The beautiful part. Darius had looked beautiful to her when he had spilled inside her and found his release. His neck and arms rigid, looming over her, the weight of his hips, his eyes glowing down at her, his mouth working soundlessly before choking out her name. All of it beautiful to look upon.

Knowing she was giving him his pleasure was like a drug, and it had affected her strangely. Marianne hadn’t meant to cry like a baby, but when it was done, her emotions had bubbled up, overflowed, and out everything had come. She’d broken down and knew why. She felt guilty for having such joy. Surely this couldn’t be fair for her to have so much. Jonathan got nothing but death.

Darius had been ever so sweet with her, though, holding and caressing. He was very good to her. He’d insisted on letting him cleanse her with a cool cloth. His hands so gentle, taking away the traces of her virginity and his seed. I’m no longer a maid, she thought, and felt great relief, glad the experience was behind her and not the ordeal she’d feared. Far from it. It was good. Being taken. It felt glorious with him.

Darius kept on staring at her boldly, his cock hard and jutting in her direction, looking like it wanted in her again…badly. Marianne wanted to touch it and kiss him there, in the way he had done for her, but she waited for him to tell her. His voice was everything. The words directed, but the pitch of his voice, the silky croon, bewitched her in totality.

“Touch me, Marianne. Put your hand around it and stroke up and down.”