Miller, Raine - His Perfect Passion (Siren Publishing Classic), Page 3

  “Darius,” she whispered. Just that short union of lips was shattering, and not nearly enough. He smelled divine, his cologne carrying a hint of exotic spice mixed with fresh linen and…heavenly male. To be so close to him stirred her blood. She let herself be drawn in easily and wondered what else he might ask of her. A shiver brushed over her shoulders and down her spine.

  “Say it again.”

  “Darius…”

  His eyes flared as he descended for another kiss. This time his mouth moved on hers, warm and soft, but commanding. He nipped at her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth partway, like he wanted to devour her. She was going to allow him. Unable to resist, she leaned into his kisses, letting him tug her into his mouth, wondering where this would lead.

  Darius didn’t demand anything more though. At least, not today. He stopped and just smiled, looking pleased when he brought the back of his hand to her face and stroked gently.

  “You are something so perfect, Marianne.”

  No, I am something so definitely not!

  * * * *

  When his elegant carriage came to collect her, there was an envelope lying on the leather seat.

  Dearest Marianne,

  When you go today to be fitted for your wedding clothes, I have arranged for you to select new gowns and assorted garments from the modiste in town. She is French, and will guide you in selecting those items I wish for you to have. Dressing a woman is like framing a beautiful work of art. You, my dear, are the art, and so you must be framed, magnificently. Madame Trulier will have some things ready to take home with you today. Wear them for me, Marianne. I cannot wait to see you dressed as I believe is your due.

  Yours,

  D. R.

  Reading his letter, she became flushed. The thought of Darius picturing her body in want of clothing was very intimate and made her heated. He always did that to her. His words, the looks, the smiles, the barest touch, all served to enflame her until she was unable to think or do anything other than what he asked of her. Darius understood her. Now, when she looked at him, she didn’t see a man that was not for her. Rather, she saw a man she wanted to please. She needed to. Compelled to do those things that satisfied him, she was bound to do what he asked of her.

  Darius made her feel special in a way she had never experienced before. He cherished her in words and in deeds. Giving in to him felt comforting, and more importantly, safe. He would make sure she did the right things. If she followed his directions she wouldn’t be able to make terrible mistakes. Marianne couldn’t afford to make another one. Another mistake, like the one with Jonathan, would be the end of her.

  Measuring tape in hand, Madame Trulier looked Marianne over carefully. Stripped down to her chemise, her body seemed to be met with approval.

  “You are blessed in your figure, my dear. I can see why Mr. Rourke is so enchanted by your charms. We must arrange to show you off to your greatest advantage. Your fiancé was quite specific in what he wants, especially in regards to dishabille dress and undergarments. Mr. Rourke said only French silk for your chemises, stockings, and corsets. We shall please him, hmmm? You will be lucky to have such a husband—one who takes an interest.”

  Marianne chose from those garments suggested by Madame Trulier. There were morning gowns, lounging wrappers, and gorgeous undergarments. Day dresses, evening gowns, riding outfits, and cloaks. Madame insisted on several nightdresses sewn of the sheerest fabrics—beautiful, but capable of concealing little. Marianne felt the blushing heat fill her again when she pictured herself wearing them for Darius.

  “He chose this shawl for you. You will take it with you when you go,” Madame Trulier announced.

  The heavy shawl was a work of art in sea-blue Indian silk, woven in an intricate design, shot through with violet, lavender, and dark purple, iridescent threads. Marianne loved it. The dancing fringe swayed delicately when she caressed her hand over his striking gift. Suddenly swamped with the desire to wear this shawl for Darius, she wanted him to see her wearing it and know she had done it for him, to please him.

  I am unable to resist his allure and he well knows it.

  Chapter Four

  “Mr. Rourke to see Miss George,” Darius told the housemaid.

  Too many minutes later, Mr. George stumbled into the room, announcing that Marianne was not at home.

  “And where has she gone?”

  “Walking along the shore, most likely.”

  “Alone? She goes alone?” Darius frowned.

  Mr. George snorted. “That girl has a mind of her own. I have never been able to break her stubbornness,” he said, chuckling. “You’re sure to have your hands very full with her, Mr. Rourke. She’ll be all yours to worry over soon enough, eh?”

  What a stupid man you are, and not much of a father either. No wonder Marianne is as she is.

  Darius abruptly took his leave, heading for the sea path. The thought of her alone, exposed to possible harm, terrified him.

  At the rise, he scanned the sandy beach down below. There she was, looking out over the ocean. He’d seen her like this before, the wind rippling her clothes and hair forward. It looked as if the ocean worked in tandem with the wind, calling to her, pulling her in. She wore the shawl. Relief washed over him, and Darius embraced it as wonderfully welcome.

  He approached, keeping his eyes trained upon her lovely neck. She must have heard his footsteps because she turned. Her eyes widened in recognition, and then they lit in a look that could only be described as happy to see him. The feelings of relief gave way to ones of sheer joy.

  “Darius.” She held out her hand in greeting.

  He brought it to his lips first. Then he had to touch her. His thumb rubbed back and forth over her knuckles as he inhaled, thinking how her scent calmed his agitation. “I called, but you were not there.” The disapproval in his tone still rang clear, though, as was intended.

  “Yes. I wanted to walk, and think.”

  “What occupied your thoughts?”

  “You. Marrying you.”

  That made him smile. “Good thoughts, I hope? Tell me you were thinking good thoughts of me.”

  “I was, Darius.” She blushed and then looked up. “I was thinking good thoughts of you.”

  He brushed the side of his finger up her cheek. “Marianne, I don’t care for you walking out alone here. There are too many dangers, and I would see you kept safe. So, no more solitary walks along the jetty. Agreed?” She regarded him solemnly. “Say, ‘I’ll not walk alone again, Darius.’ Say those words to me, Marianne.”

  “I’ll not walk alone again, Darius.”

  That’s my girl.

  He rewarded her with another smile. “You are very dear to me, Marianne. If you wish to walk, send a note to the house. I will be happy to escort you.”

  “As you wish.” She inclined her head. “Will you walk with me now?”

  “Of course.” He pulled her arm over his, enveloping her hand in his much larger one. “Your new dress is lovely on you.”

  He looked her over appreciatively, proud to have her on his arm, and feeling irrationally possessive. He didn’t like her out here alone, where anyone could approach her. Kilve had a steady tourist crowd, especially in the summer months. No telling who could be out on the beach. This idea alone, regardless of the natural dangers, made his blood boil. She was his woman. His! And in a matter of days, she’d truly belong to him. Visions flashed through his mind. Scenes of her naked, hair down, splayed underneath him, her body wrapped around his cock—

  “—Thank you, the clothes are very fine and beautiful.” Her sincere words of gratitude dragged him reluctantly out of the erotic reverie he’d dreamed. Shaking his head slightly, he strove to clear his head by focusing on what she was saying. “And, Darius, I love this shawl that you picked for me. It’s very special, so unique, and the most gorgeous gift I have ever received. It reminds me of the sea.”

  “Knowing you are enjoying it thrills me.” He stared at her, unable to look away
. “In this moment, you look so beautiful, Marianne, with that shawl wrapped around you and the wind making your hair dance. The color matches your eyes. When I saw it, I knew it was meant for you.”

  “Thank you for the compliment and for such lovely gifts, Darius.”

  “Do you wear your new garments next to your skin?”

  She breathed in sharply at his question. “I do.”

  “Why do you wear them, Marianne?” he whispered, anticipating her answer.

  “Because…you told me to.”

  A shot of pure lust burned through to his groin, and he felt an erection punch out, instantly hard. Marianne didn’t realize how her gentle surrender enflamed him. And she gave it so freely, and with such ease, that Darius was utterly entrammeled by her charms. Where he was hard, she was soft. He took, she gave. He commanded, she acquiesced. Darius wondered if she knew he was really like a fly, tangled in her web, stuck fast, going nowhere. Marianne was an addiction, and yet, seemed to have no idea of the potency of her allure.

  Stopping her on the path, he leaned down toward her sweet lips. Heat boiled up the instant their mouths connected. This time he would know more of her…

  “Kiss me back,” he commanded.

  He needed to get inside her somehow! So he pushed his tongue along her lips, entreating her to open to him. Slowly, but with firm control, he pressed inside, feeling the returned brush of her soft tongue dueling with his. Tasting. Seeking. Filling. Their tongues mated. The feel of her just about caused him to climax. Having any part of him inside her body was nirvana.

  Finally dragging away from her mouth for long enough to form words, he asked, “I can taste strawberries. Did you eat some?”

  “I did. At luncheon I had some.” She blushed at him again.

  “So sweet you taste. Sweet like a strawberry. I want to feed strawberries to you. I’ll put it right into your mouth.” He imagined holding a ripe, red strawberry to her lips and her biting into it.

  The lovely image gave Darius inspiration of how to get into her in another way. Using his thumb, he brushed over her lips in a circle before pressing against her teeth. She opened against the pressure, accepting his thumb into her mouth, her tongue wrapping around it, sucking lightly. Darius moved his thumb in and out, slowly, her lips stretching outward when he pulled out, and retreating inward when he pushed in.

  God help me!

  Imagining those sweet lips of hers wrapped around his cock instead of his thumb was too much to visualize and maintain decorum. He was on the edge already, hard and hungry for her. Darius had to suggest they return, before he lost his mind and took her right here on the sand.

  Chapter Five

  Darius thought the weather perfect for their ride in the curricle. The clean scent of the June air mingled with the intoxicating fragrance of violets sitting beside him.

  “Would you like to take the reins?” he offered.

  “I would.” She nodded. “You will help me?”

  “Of course.” Reaching one arm around her, he brought her close, transferring the reins into her hands. “Now grip firmly. Use the muscles in your forearms, not just your hands. Direct him. Tell the horse what you want from him.”

  As she followed his instructions, Darius buried his face in her neck, nuzzling his favorite spot. “He wants to please you.”

  “He must be a uniquely accommodating horse!” she sang at him.

  She laughed a melodious sound. Her lovely laugh. It was a rare sound coming from her and he wanted to cherish the moment for the precious gift it was to him.

  “He pleases me. I wonder if I please him as much?”

  “I can attest that you do with certainty, Marianne.”

  They crossed over the ridge that looked down to the sea below. Darius put his hands over hers, assisting in slowing the curricle.

  “This is a good place to get out. Walk with me?”

  He reached up to grip around her slim waist, lifting her easily from the seat and down to the ground. Providing such service to her felt wonderful as did the knowledge that it would be his “right” to do so for her always. He loved the feel of Marianne under his hands.

  After securing the horse, he led her to the edge. He looked out.

  “Right down there,” he said, pointing, “is where I first remember seeing you.” He met her eyes. “You were just a little girl, nine or ten years old. You were collecting fossil curies, and had them arranged in order from largest to smallest. I was with my dog, a great beast of a hound called Caesar. He was rampaging along the beach with boundless excitement, until he pelted through your careful array, scattering your collection. I saw all this happen from a distance. You jumped up fuming, soundly scolding him. Caesar was very repentant, and by the time I got to him, you were patting him on the head and saying, ‘he was a good dog and probably didn’t mean to be so stupid.’ I tried to apologize for him. I said, ‘I hope my dog wasn’t a bother to you.’ I remember that you repeated my words back to me. I’ve never forgotten. You looked up at me so solemnly and said, ‘Your dog wasn’t a bother to me, sir.’ And then you sighed. You must have been very frustrated, but you were so composed and resolute, like a soldier.”

  “I remember the dog, and that day!” She looked at him in wonder. “That was you?”

  He nodded. “I remember thinking what an intelligent, unspoiled child you were.”

  She blushed at his compliments, the rosy flush coloring her fair cheeks, making him want to press his lips to them and kiss over every inch.

  “Mr. Simms used to pay a penny per five curies. He sold them in his shop to tourists. I thought myself very industrious, that it would make me a great fortune.” She smiled, caught up in the remembering. “And Caesar? He is no longer with you?”

  “No. He passed on after a full and happy life. But his descendants are. You’ll meet Brutus and Cleo soon—your very own personal guard.” He paused before speaking softly. “That was the first time. I remember the second time, too. It was maybe seven years later. You stood on that rock over there.” Pointing toward the south end of the beach, he said, “The wind whipped your hair back and pressed your dress against your legs. You looked like you were waiting for something, standing there, perched on the rock, staring out to sea. I thought you so beautiful and knew you were the same little girl. I remembered your hair, but it was your bearing and your manner, the way you carried yourself that was the same.”

  * * * *

  All this time?

  Marianne could not have been more staggered by his revelations. How could he have been admiring her for so long?

  “Darius, I had no idea.” She could hardly believe what he’d told her and shook her head in denial. “I still don’t comprehend why you would take an interest—”

  “So I left Somerset. Years passed, and I tried to forget about you while I waited for you to grow up. Tried, but was not successful at all.” He smiled, his thumb caressing under her eye. “It was impossible to forget you,” he said very softly, his eyes boring into her.

  “I–I am…”

  He brought two fingers to her lips. “You don’t have to say anything, Marianne. I just wanted you to know, that is all.” Brightening, he said, “I have a gift for you.”

  “Another gift? You have given me so many, Darius.”

  “I want to give you gifts, Marianne. It pleases me to choose things for you.”

  “I have nothing to give to you,” she told him, saddened by the thought.

  “You’re wrong. You give yourself—that is all I want.” He nodded his assurance. “Come here.” He turned her so her back leaned into his chest. He moved her hair aside, claiming her neck with his lips. “My favorite spot. I love to kiss you here on this part of your neck.”

  His warm skin, the manly scent of him, the weight of his body leaning into hers, felt good. He held her firmly, essentially trapping her in his embrace. She felt him grow hard below the waist, a ridge of iron pressing against her backside. So strong and wanting all at once. Marianne under
stood that Darius desired her, but for some reason, also apparently needed her. He needed her to be soft and submissive. And obedient. He needed her to be the soft dais upon which he could find some comfort. If she thought about it too much, it worried her, so she didn’t. She turned the idea away. What if she let him down? Just like—

  “Do you feel me?”

  “Y…yes.”

  Oh, yes, I feel you.

  “It’s all because of you, Marianne. You do that to me. I get so hard for you, wanting you.” He swept his lips up her neck. “Push back against me. Press your body to mine. You want to!” Pulling her more firmly against him, he ground upward, slowly rocking his erection into her, all the while caressing her neck with his lips. “You make me happy, Marianne. So sweet, you smell like violets. Next to me like this, you are perfection.”

  She let the sensations float her. Wrapped in Darius’s protective embrace, well-being enfolded her. The staff pressing on her felt huge. Marianne was aware of the basic mechanics. She’d heard the stories and had friends who were already married. Darius would put that huge, hard piece of flesh into her. Would it hurt? It was said to hurt the first time. Would it bring pleasure? The sly comments and giggles of her married friends suggested it might. She knew it brought pleasure for the man and was the only way to start a child growing. That men liked to do it often. That’s what she’d been told by her friends at least.

  Right now, the kissing and stroking of his tongue upon her neck gave her pleasure. Still, she was curious and wanted to know more. Darius did that to her. Made her willing to do things she had never dreamed of doing. She would have done anything he asked her to do in this moment. Marianne could not ever remember feeling so cherished.