The Passion of Darius

Darius paused to look at Marianne, still sleeping in their bed. Her shining hair flowed out like a glossy halo upon the pillow. The sheet had slipped down, exposing one beauteous breast. Darius felt his breath catch at the sight of her. So beautiful. The stab to the gut that followed upon the heels of his admiration was so powerful, he widened his eyes at the sensation of pain. He wondered how unrecognizable he had truly become from the man he used to be. The past month had changed him. Marianne had changed him.

As the new mistress of a large estate, there had been much to acquaint her with. The house was named Stonewell Court, due to the light gray stone of which it was built, and stood along the southern coast. The sea could be viewed from the back of the house, which delighted Marianne. She’d told Darius so, and he didn’t forget details like that.

There were an abundance of servants to introduce. Mr. and Mrs. West ran most business about the estate and house, Mr. West as Darius’s steward, and Mrs. West as the housekeeper.

There were also the dogs. Darius had two wolfhounds, Brutus and Cleo, who took a great liking to their new mistress. If Marianne was outside, they were sure to be with her. When they were allowed inside the house, both were liable to be stretched out at her feet. Marianne told him she didn’t mind. Darius had teased, saying she’d quite stolen away their loyalty to him, but secretly he was glad she did not mind the dogs, for their guard eased his worry some.

Upon this day though, Darius had business calling him away for the morning, and thus the reason for the stealth in observing his wife’s womanly charms while she slept.

His breath caught at the sight, when she opened her eyes. So blue.

“Good morning, beautiful wife. I s’pose you’ve caught me leering at you before I must go.” He reached out his knuckles to trace over the creamy, rounded flesh, her nipple hardening in response.

Catching his hand, she brought it to her lips. “You are leaving.”

He nodded, loving the fact she’d kissed his hand. “Solicitors first, then some business with Greymont on a matter he’s asked for some support.”

“When will you return?”

He smiled at that. “Will you be missing me today, my sweet?”

She gave him the tiniest of nods and then a look.

“Did you want to say something, Marianne?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me then. Say what you want me to know.”

She hesitated before answering him. He could tell she struggled with her choice of words. “I am glad you stayed to wish me farewell. Please never leave me without a goodbye, Darius. I need that from you.” She regarded him solemnly, her face a mask of intriguing beauty.

“Of course, my darling.” He bent and kissed her lips, her neck, and finally her bared breast, covering the nipple and grazing with his teeth. “You taste so good,” he moaned. When she arched into him he had half a mind to crawl back into the bed with her.

She did that to him. The need to have her was incessant. Morning, afternoon, night… didn’t matter. The merest glimpse or gesture from her and he was lost. His cock was greedy when it came to Marianne. Darius wondered if his need for sex would ever abate. The more he had of her, the more he seemed to crave. And it wasn’t the sex—it was her that drove him.

“What will you do today, Marianne?”

“I thought I might ride over to Papa’s for a visit.”

“Very well,” he said quietly. “Please take the dogs with you, and don’t stay too long. Remember we have dinner with the Rothvales tonight.”

“I’ve not forgotten about it.”

Darius was puzzled as he left though. Marianne had asked something of him for the first time. She never asked him for much of anything. He had to be extra vigilant to make sure she wasn’t in need of something, for usually she would never ask on her own.

She was resolute about some things though. Marianne had continued to care for her father even after the wedding. She would go and keep company with him at her old house, a house which now belonged to him. Darius did not wholly approve, but he allowed her to do it. She was a dutiful daughter. Dutiful in all aspects as it was her nature. He sensed, and rightly so, that she needed to continue caring for her father. Being a dutiful son himself, he understood.

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. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. The bedsport was magnificent, but it was Marianne’s acceptance of him that was so sweetly given.

And every time 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 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, bella, 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 spunk 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 it did.

12th July, 1837

Today my husband said he loved me. He spoke his words in Italian, and in the heat of passion to leave me unsure if he was fully aware of what he said. I expected him to tell me to return the sentiment, but he never did. I am left with the incredible idea that he must feel more for me than he should. How is it possible for Darius to love me? How can that be? I know I shouldn’t covet the idea, but I do… so very much.

MR