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Darius played her like an instrument, stroking over a swollen nub that shot bursts of sensation each time he drew over it. Slowly, he brought her to life, knowing where to touch and how hard to press. The hot pulses grew higher, more intense, building low in her belly. Nearly out of her mind, her neck straining, eyes closing, she thought she’d surely die
if he stopped all that glorious rubbing. Something was happening to her. Maybe she was dying. She didn’t care though—as long as he kept up stroking her in that most perfect, magnificent way.
“Look at me, Marianne. Don’t close your eyes! Look at me!”
When he commanded her, something unraveled, breaking inside her. Her eyes began to flutter as the first convulsions struck. It was a struggle to keep them open, to obey his command. She tried to. Shudders of explosive current took hold, rushing throughout her body.
Darius stopped the rubbing and pressed the heel of his palm down hard. She felt her eyes welling, and then a single tear tumbled down each cheek as she stared up into his eyes.
The pleasure so powerful, she finally understood the craving Darius ignited in her body when he touched her. This was the culmination of the unearthly feelings he brought about. And it was…magnificent.
“Oh, Darius, you make me feel—” Shuddering into his neck, she panted and rode the wave, unable to finish her words.
“That was a glorious thing to watch, my beauty, you taking your pleasure. You do deserve everything. You deserve what I just gave you, Marianne, and there’s so much more. I will show you everything.” He pressed his lips to the streaks of tears on her cheeks, kissing the wetness away. He nodded slowly. “The next time you feel this same pleasure, it won’t just be my fingers here against you.” Pressing the heel of his hand against her curls and his fingers atop her clit, he elicited an easy shiver and a moan. “It will be this.” He took his hand away and mounted her, thrusting forcefully, his intent as unmistakable as the weight of him upon her.
Marianne felt every inch of his hard cock pulsing against her body, feeling him clearly through their clothes, his hips pushing her legs wider apart. His erection lay flat upon his belly and hit her right at the pubic bone. Instinctively, she offered resistance to his thrust, finding an immediate rhythm in the primeval stroking. He liked that very much, she could tell.
Smiling, he brought the fingers that had touched her to his mouth. She watched him put his lips around them and draw them back. When he pulled them out, he closed his eyes and said, “Like a sweet plum.”
She gasped and clamped her eyes shut. The sight of him tasting the fingers that had just been between her legs was so erotic and intimate, she wanted to hide. It was as if he truly wanted to devour her. She turned her head away, embarrassment flushing her.
“No, no, no, my Marianne, we cannot have that.” He took her chin and gently forced her right back to face him. “Do not turn from me. I will know all of you. I will. How you look, how you feel, how you sound, how you smell, and even how you taste. Every beautiful part…of you…for me to know.”
And Darius didn’t release her right away after that either. He kept her close, on the blanket for a long time, holding and kissing and rocking against her body, whispering to her. Finally, when she was languid and calm in his arms, and Darius seemed satisfied that she had accepted his declaration—that she deserved everything he wanted to give her—he freed her. His words told her how he felt.
“Marianne, you are so perfect.”
Darius, you are so wrong. I am nothing even close to perfect. I have done something unforgivable.
Chapter Seven
Darius looked around the room and tried to settle himself in the moment as Marianne took up the pen and wrote her maiden name for the last time on their marriage certificate. She looked as composed as she always did, so it was hard to judge what she felt. He knew what he felt though, and it involved just the two of them alone together in his bed.
Their wedding had been arranged as a small affair with just family and a few friends. Marianne had asked Byrony to be her attendant, while Darius asked his cousin, Alexander Rourke, Lord Verlaine, to stand up for him. The Rothvales honored them as did the Carstones and others. Darius, being a respected member of the community, was bestowed with sincere congratulations and felicitations.
It was done. The vows had been given, the documents signed. Marianne belonged to him now, and the idea was a blessed relief. Now, if he could just get her alone and be rid of all these bothersome wedding guests! Well-wishes of family and friends aside, Darius wanted her all to himself and found it a challenge to smile genially and to be patient.
“Mrs. Rourke, you are a vision of loveliness, and I find myself jealous of my cousin’s good fortune,” Alex complimented with admiration. “And I can see by the way he glares at me that Darius will be the possessive sort when it comes to you.”
“Thank you for honoring us this day, Lord Verlaine.” Marianne blushed as she thanked Alex, looking so very delectable Darius felt his mouth begin to water.
“Cousin, you are as astute as you are annoying, but correct as ever. My wife is loveliness personified, it’s true, and I am possessive of her. I’ll readily admit to both of your observations.” He drew her hand up to his lips and kissed it reverently. “I cannot help any of it,” he whispered while looking into her eyes, not caring who saw him.
“Apparently so, Darius.” Alex chuckled wryly. “You read as an open book. But I am happy for you both and wish you all the best on your nuptials. You must bring yourselves to Orangewood soon, yes? When you desire for Town? I am sure Mrs. Rourke can find plenty of the London shops to her liking and she still must meet Gray. My brother sends his sincere regrets he could not come to celebrate the occasion of today.” Alex bowed deep. “Look for an invitation and I’ll not take no for an answer,” he reminded as he took his leave.
Marianne embraced Byrony next. Promises of summer gatherings were made and accepted. Byrony’s father, Lord Rothvale, offered his congratulations. “You are blessed, Rourke, and I wish both of you every happiness together. Now, when you can bear to leave your lovely bride for an hour or two, I want you to come and see me and we’ll talk some more about getting you elected to Parliament. I know Verlaine can vouch for you, being family and all. You’d have the ready support of many. The Commons needs good men like you to take up the cause—”
“Yes, my darling,” Lady Rothvale interrupted her husband with a smile. “I am sure Mr. Rourke has other things on his mind right now.” She turned to Marianne. “My dear, you are a most beautiful bride, and the both of you make a stunning couple. I knew you two were meant for each other on the day of the strawberry picnic. I said it wouldn’t be long before Marianne George got herself a new last name. Mr. Rourke had eyes only for you that day, and he still does. I daresay he made an excellent choice.”
“Thank you for coming today, my lady,” Marianne answered, her face a mask of mysterious beauty, revealing nothing of her true feelings, yet suggesting their presence simmering just below the surface.
It drove Darius mad with desire for her. He wanted to know the woman beneath the quiet, graceful exterior. He couldn’t wait to watch her face when she was lost to pleasure and coming undone in his arms as he made love to her, their skin melded together when he was buried inside her. How much longer?
“Thank you, my lady, I can only agree with you on the excellence of my choice,” Darius answered politely, forcing himself to tamp down the lovely image of Marianne in flagrante delicto with him. All he could envision was her face as she lay on the blanket the day he’d taken her riding—the wild look, the surprise, the fire in her as she rode out that first climax under his fingers. He could remember how soft she had felt and would give just about anything to be back there right now. God, he was going to die right here in front of all these people, mad with lust for his beautiful bride! How much longer? Again he shook off the visions creeping into his mind to attend to the guests in his home. Upon their departure, the Rothvales exacted a promise to attend them soon for dinner.
On and on the well-wishing went. They both kept smiling and thanking the guests for their attendance. All Darius really wanted was to pull Marianne into the closest room with a locking door and commence with the wedding night, but he couldn’t do that of course. He had to maintain decorum and stand patiently by her luscious side, g
rowing hungrier as the minutes ticked by.
