His Perfect Passion

He pulled back slowly, deliciously, out of her pussy and her mouth, and then plunged back into both at once.

Yes, oh, yes, oh, yes!

That exquisite taste, once sampled, was impossible to hold back, and Darius let himself get lost in her. He thrust deeply but smoothly, relishing each slow, gliding stroke of his cock, knowing he was willing to explore forever that mesmerizing slit between her sweet thighs.

Being mindful of her innocence, he didn’t want to take her too hard, but the urge to fuck overrode all sensibility.

I am not a monster, but I want a proper fucking…with her!

Sweet Christ, she was divine! Darius couldn’t hold back what he was doing to her. In and out he stroked, hands working her hips against his strokes as the pace intensified. Dark moisture glistened on him when he pulled out—her virgin blood. The sight enflamed him even more, as did the knowledge he was the first and only to be inside her.

Watching each penetration spurred him to thrust faster. The head of his prick felt like it was going to burn off. The eruption was building, the need for completion too great to hold back any longer. Feeling his sac tighten in anticipation, he allowed the climax to consume him into oblivion.

“Mariannnnnne!” Hot liquid jetted out the tip of him, pulsating wildly, washing her with seed as he kept on stroking her. He poured all of himself into her before slowing his rhythm and coming to a final rest.

My seed is finally in you…Mine!

Time crashed down after that. Darius was not sure how long he floated in the sensation of extreme bliss at finally claiming her. She shifted beneath him.

“Oh, Marianne…” He rolled off to his side, stroking over her breasts, kissing her shoulder, her neck, and finally her lips. Releasing her hands, he drew her close, embracing her.

His gestures must have sparked something because she immediately began to cry, seeming totally overcome with sensitivity in the moment. She clung to him, pressing close, her face buried in his chest.

The two reactions were not what he expected, nor did they make any sense. She was clearly upset, but at the same time, trying to draw closer rather than to get away.

“Mia cara, my dear one?” he asked carefully, “did I hurt you very badly?”

“You did not.” She sobbed through panting breaths.

“Frighten you?”

“No.” More sobs shuddered through her.

“I am glad for that. My beauty, but why do you cry?”

She shook her head.

“Tell me why, Marianne. You must tell me.”

Her distress stabbed him straight in the heart. Darius didn’t care for her crying. He wanted her happy, pleased, and content. He wanted her to feel pleasure, given by him. To be driven by his touch and to crave it.

He lowered his voice to the pitch she responded to so well and stroked her back. “You want to tell me, Marianne, and you will.”

She buried her head further into his chest and heaved. “You—you make me burn like f—fire! I—did—not—know it would be like this.” She shuddered.

Relief flooded him. Perfection…just as I knew she would be.

“Hmmm…As it should be, my lovely wife. It was my joy to show you. I adore making you burn, and I will continue to do it again and again and again. You make me burn, as well.” He tilted up her face. “This is only the beginning, my beauty. I have dreamed of you like this, discovering every part of you, mia cara—my dearest one.”

Chapter Nine

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.