Darius: Lord of Pleasures

“I’ll tell you later. Touch me, Vivvie.”

She knew it was probably not what came next, but she put her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his flat stomach. Yes, she could feel him, feel the soft mass of his genitals against the rise of her breast, but she hadn’t the courage to do more than hold him, hiding her face against his ribs.

His hand came down on her hair, starting a slow massage at the back of her head, and she realized he’d give her all the time she needed to find her way through this.

She realized something else: All night wasn’t going to be nearly long enough.

* * *

She was throwing him completely off stride, with her modesty, and her… inexperience. For a lady married five years, Vivian had no sense of herself as a woman, and Darius felt a passing irritation for her. Older men might lack resilience, but they were experienced, for God’s sake. William should have been considerate enough out of sheer gratitude to have given Vivian some confidence.

But here she was, twined around his waist in an embrace so odd and dear he didn’t know quite what to make of it.

And having her wrapped around him was arousing. Usually, his degree of arousal was completely within his control, a matter of willing a response to occur, or willing it not to occur. Some men could throw darts with deadly accuracy, others sang beautifully even when sober; Darius could muster a cock stand on command.

Or not.

He bent over her and tugged on her hair to bring her face to where he could kiss her on the mouth. She slid her arms around his neck, urging him closer, and the shy command in her behavior made him smile against her lips.

“Get into bed, Vivvie,” he whispered, “where you can have your way with me.”

He pressed his cheek against hers for an instant, wanting to feel her blush heat his skin. She scooted back and was under the covers before he could peek at much of anything, but he’d seen enough already to have his cock on the rise.

And for once, he hadn’t had to think his way to an erection. It was just there, along with a growing sense of happy anticipation.

Until he recalled: he was being paid for this.

“Now what, Mr. Lindsey?”

“Whatever you please.” Darius followed her onto the bed. “The kissing was just getting started.”

“You like to kiss?”

“Hmm.” He kissed her again, lingeringly, loving the way her arms came around him of their own accord and her fingers got tangled in his hair to tug him this way and that for her delectation. “I might.”

With her, he did, and there was a small shock in that. He used his mouth on Lucy, frequently, and occasionally on Blanche, and they certainly put their mouths on his body and each other’s, but he didn’t kiss them on the mouth. An unspoken rule, one he hadn’t understood at the time he’d made it.

He understood it now. Kisses were to be given, not bought.

“I like kissing you,” he admitted, seaming her lips with his tongue. “I like it a lot.”

“Mmm.” Which, he supposed translated to “As do I” when considered in conjunction with the way she was sighing into his mouth. He angled his body half over hers, half along it, and slipped an arm under her neck. She paused in her kissing and turned her face into his shoulder.

“Now what?”

“Do you think there’s a list somewhere, Vivvie?” He slid a hand down her thigh and tugged her leg over his hip. “Kiss three to five minutes, fondle at least two minutes. Mount, thrust, spend, wait nine months, name baby?”

She blinked up at him in the firelight, and he could see her trying to think. The way passion slowed her busy brain and softened her eyes was lovely.

“Here’s my list.” He nudged at her belly with his cock. “Kiss her until she’s mindless with it, feast my hands on the glory of her body until she’s begging for my cock, swive her until she explodes with pleasure more times than she can count, repeat steps one through three until she lies sleeping and sated in my arms.”

“Begging?”

“Begging.” He kissed her temple, more than a little surprised that all this blather was the honest truth. “Pleading, demanding, praying for me to give her what she craves.”

“Gracious, everlasting God.”

“Kiss me, Vivvie,” he whispered in her ear then drew her earlobe between his teeth. He shifted so he was over her, but kept his cock off of her lest she become too… rushed.

Hell, lest he become too rushed.

And, by God, she’d gotten the knack of kissing him. Her tongue was bold and teasing, and just when he thought maybe it was time to slide down her body and show her what else a mouth could do, she bit his earlobe, and then his neck, and he had to retaliate by slipping a hand over her breast and tugging at one ruched nipple.

“Darius.” She whispered his name on such an exhalation of longing that Darius heard it in the throbbing tip of his cock. She laid her hand over his and closed her fingers. “More, please.”

Please was not begging, but it was importuning of a sort. He obliged, experimenting with the pressure and grip she liked, until she was arching her back and rolling her hips against him.

“Tell me what you want, Vivvie.” He levered up and twisted to get his mouth on that nipple.

“More, please, Darius… God.” He suckled the one and kept his fingers busy at the other, and she shifted restlessly beneath him, her hands trailing along the muscles of his back, into his hair, over his face, over his nipples.

He’d wanted to make her come a few times before they joined, out of pride, some, but also out of consideration for her. She’d been hesitant, and nothing overcame hesitance like pleasure, except his first plan didn’t seem quite… necessary.

“Darius?” She’d arched up against his cock and gone still, then he felt her hand, carefully shaping him.

The expedited approach was going to have to serve, pride be damned. He moved over her, nudging at her damp sex with his shaft.

“Kiss me.” He lowered his head, but she’d turned her face, so he concentrated on finding the entrance to her body.

“I’m not sure…” she began when he’d settled his mouth on the side of her neck, a spot he already knew made her melt, and her words trailed off until he’d found his target.

“Just relax, Vivvie,” he said, because she’d gone abruptly tense and silent. “Relax so I can bring you pleasure.” He pushed against her gently, feeling the sweet, wet warmth of impending bliss. The urge to thrust hard, to go home in her body was strong, but she tugged stoutly on his hair.

“I don’t think…” She inhaled again and held her breath, waiting.

He wasn’t hearing “no,” so Darius pushed again, more gently, and she stiffened even more.

“Darius, wait. I can’t…”

“Vivvie?” He rested his forehead against hers, his intellect telling him very clearly the lady was having second thoughts, while his body shouted with equal certainty this was no time for thoughts of any kind.

“I can’t do this.”

Well, of course. Last minute nerves, conscience, whatever. This was Vivvie, and nothing was simple with her.

“Am I hurting you?”

“You’re going to.”

“You’re not comfortable?”

“I’m very uncomfortable.”

“Here?” He gave a small but productive thrust, gaining him the first real increment of penetration. She yelped, and her body closed against him.

And not in passion.

“You see?” she muttered, teeth clenched.

He realized as he stayed poised just inside Vivian’s body that William’s disservice to her went deeper than