His Perfect Passion
Darius tried to be an attentive husband. Frankly he couldn’t keep away from her for very long. He knew he was demanding of her and that his carnal appetite was great. But she accepted him so sweetly. And it was so good with her. Desiring to have Marianne close, as well as to touch her, all the time, was his typical response. He was hard pressed to keep his hands away if she was within his reach, and it wasn’t always for the sex. He sought the comfort of being intimate with her in any situation. Marianne’s generous nature only made him want her more. And Darius knew why, too. He’d desired her for years, but now he knew his feelings were more than just desire. Much more. He had fallen completely and utterly in love with his wife.
* * * *
Upon his return, Darius hunted Marianne down. He found her in the library. She looked lovely standing at the window, reading a book in the light that the panes allowed in. At the sound of his steps, she turned. “You are back.”
Darius nodded, leaning in the doorway, feeling wild, his cock flaring to life when she smiled at him, her blue eyes glittering, taking in the sight of him.
His breath grew heavy, moving his chest. His cock lengthened, struggling uncomfortably in his trousers. He bolted the door.
“You look fretful, Darius. Are you?”
He nodded again, stalking forward.
“Why are you fretful, Dar—”
He pounced. Like a wolf upon a rabbit, covering her in possession. The book fell to the floor with a thud, echoing off the walls. Pinning her against the window, only one thought ran through his mind. Because I need to fuck you.
“Sorry, my sweet, I’ve thought of you all day, and I need to get my cock inside you right now.”
“Ahhh, Darius!” She yelped as he picked her up and set her on the writing table.
His frank declaration served to fuel the need for her to unimaginable heights. Sweeping her skirts aside, he spread her wide before him, released his straining prick, and seated himself to the hilt. Looking down, he watched it disappear into the dark pink folds of her pussy. So hot. So stretched. So exquisite, his chest got tight from the knowledge. When he pulled out, his shaft shone, slick and wet from being inside her.
“God! You’re so wet and ready for me!” That she was so responsive provoked him. “You’re always like that, Marianne! God, it’s so good—having—my—cock—in—side—you!” He punctuated each word with a thrusting stroke as he fucked into her hard.
He knew his wicked talk would incite her, too. Marianne liked it a little rough.
The sex pounded on, both of them lost to the cravings. His cock drilling into her tight grip, he felt her stiffen, readying herself for that delicious reward of the twisting coil of orgasm. Crying out his name as the sensations reverberated, she rode it out, looking wild and otherworldly in his arms.
Watching her come was a most beauteous thing, Darius thought. Seeing that moment of pure awareness in her expression was the fuse in bringing him to his own explosive release. Feeling her inner muscles squeeze tightly around his cock, he finally had to let go.
As he spilled out his release, he relished every spurt of ejaculate that washed into her, working it deep inside, sending it where it needed to go. He liked knowing she had his seed in her. He rationalized that it satisfied some primal male need to mate with her and produce his heirs. He wasn’t sure if that was the reason, but regardless, he needed to put his seed in her, and the more of it the better.
* * * *
Marianne did indeed thrill at his coarse words and the forceful sex. She loved the way Darius made her feel when he wanted her like this, like he needed her to live, to sustain his life. Like she was the only one who could satisfy his burning desires. At least that was how he made her feel. Even if it wasn’t true, she would still embrace it for the pleasure it gave to him and to her.
Finally stopping, he came to a rest, covering her as she lay atop the table.
“Mia cara…ti amo.” He whispered the words under his breath.
Despite his whispering, Marianne still heard him. She also knew what his words meant. Marianne was not fluent in Italian, but she knew he’d said, “I love you.”
She stiffened underneath him and felt her newfound peace break apart like nest full of eggs hit with a stone.
Marianne waited for it. Waited for Darius to tell her to say it in return. She thought he might, but prayed he would not. She didn’t think she could form the words from her mouth. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest and she felt the need for air.
Darius did not tell her to say it back. That command never came, and Marianne knew relief as the minutes wore on.
So, she did not offer the words back to him.
Powerful little words.
Marianne had to pause and wonder if Darius was aware of what he’d said to her. And if he was sincere, or rather succumbing to the passion of the moment. Marianne was finding that the sex had a way of breaking down reserve in the most powerful way. At least for her.
Chapter Eleven
??So, my dear, have you kept up with your sketching?” Lord Rothvale asked her at dinner.