Darius: Lord of Pleasures

recovered from your lying in, you have only to say so, and I would not want you to think—” Not think he’d desired her every minute he’d been with her and every minute he hadn’t? “I’m sorry, Vivvie, but William is dead, and we are not, and I just—”

He brushed his mouth over her nape. “Please, Vivvie—for the love of God, say something.” He was glad she couldn’t see his face, though he desperately wanted to see hers, so he rearranged them on the mattress, facing each other.

“Darius Lindsey, I will not allow you to make love to me.”

She sounded damnably determined on that point. Woe unto him who seeks to turn a lady into a lioness, and yet, he could not quite turn loose of her. She had invited him into bed, after all.

“Of course, you won’t.” He managed not to sound as emotionally strangled as he felt. She wanted him in her bed, but she did not want him intimately. This was what he deserved, for getting into so many beds where all that was wanted of him was a casual romp.

While he tried reciting the royal succession in the interests of his composure, Vivian wrested herself from his embrace, pushed him to his back, and straddled him.

God in heaven, she was magnificent. Mother, goddess, lady—and something more than all three rolled into one, and now—now—she was refusing his overtures.

Comfort for her, torment for him. A fair enough bargain.

Her lips grazed over his mouth. “You may not make love to me now, but I should be very pleased to make love to you, Mr. Lindsey.”

The sense of her soft words, emphasized by that sweet kiss, sank in, and joy flooded his being despite the looming difficulties, despite all that remained unsettled.

I should be very pleased to make love to you, Mr. Lindsey.

Very pleased.

For the first time in his life, Darius was going to be intimate with a woman he loved, a woman he adored, and could come to as a whole man, offering himself to her without conditions, reservations, or hesitation.

For a succession of moments, he was content to hold her, and she—wise lady—allowed it. She wore the scent he’d had blended for her. The realization was very pleasing to him, even as the subtle, spicy fragrance wafted into his awareness. Other impressions came to him, impressions he treasured because they marked a moment he wanted always to remember: her body under his caressing hand was different, of course, rounder, softer, and more lovely.

The room had grown cozy, which was good when two people were likely to toss back the covers and make passionate love in the next moments. The hour was well past dark but not late, and that was good too, because the baby—their son, Will—would give them time to pursue their passions at length and at leisure.

Desire for her flared up as she kissed him again. “Will you allow me to make love to you, Darius?”

“You must do with me as you wish, Vivvie. I am your willing slave.”

To be able to say those words, to let them occupy a place of uncomplicated flirtation between him and a woman who was intent on having her way with his person took a weight off his heart, and yet, Vivian shook her head.

“Not slave, Darius. Neither of us should be enslaved to the other, not ever. You are my love, and I am yours.”

“Your love.” The term was ardent, simple, and accurate. The last part of his heart, the part that had been trying to maintain some hold on sense and perspective, to think not of the night’s passion but the cold possibilities of the coming dawn, tumbled into Vivian’s keeping for all time.

She caressed his cock with her damp sex.

“Vivvie, I won’t survive—”

Her smile as she used the end of her braid to tease his nipples was pure female mischief. “We’ll get through this, Mr. Lindsey. You have my promise on that.”

Her promise in exchange for his hands on her breasts. The bargains were improving.

Her breasts, lovely before, were fuller now. Her figure had gone from perfect to the proportions of a goddess, and most spectacular of all, she was allowing him to gaze his fill, to note each change and all that was so wonderfully familiar.

“I have never, not ever, beheld so much beauty at once, Vivian. You are—”

Words failed. He was new at this, at making love as opposed to having relations. Oh, he’d made love to her before—from the first he’d been making love to her—but now she was to make love to him.

She leaned close enough to kiss his cheek. He used her braid to bring her down onto his chest, where he could hold her for a moment and catch his emotional breath.

He was nervous, as anxious as he was aroused, and yet, there was no reason for it. Vivian wanted only to give to him, and he to her. This was not a realization; rather, it bore the luminosity of revelation.

“You mustn’t be too fierce with me, Vivvie. Be careful and tender. There’s time for unbridled passion later.” He prayed there would be, but a man didn’t presume, not when his name was Darius Lindsey, and Thurgood Ainsworthy was lurking like the bad fairy in a child’s storybook tale.

She levered up to eye him curiously. “Because it’s the first time after the birth?”

He answered a question with a question. “I was your first, wasn’t I, Vivvie? Your very first?”

He dreaded her reply—hadn’t ever wanted to ask her for this truth because either answer was fraught with emotional peril.

“You were, and I’m glad you were. Very glad.”

He loved her, he trusted her, and he’d asked for her trust in return. He shifted to lay his hands on the pillow on either side of his head, to be vulnerable. When she laced her fingers with his, he had to close his eyes. “I’m glad too, because this is my first time. Right now, with you. My very first.”

He did not dare open his eyes for fear she was laughing at him. The notion was ridiculous, that he could be unsullied by his past, but she didn’t laugh. She didn’t tease or mock. Darius felt her hand smoothing over his heart like a benediction. “You have the right of it, Darius. We will be tender with each other.”

As many different ways as he’d made love with her the previous year—every way he’d known how to, and a few he’d stumbled upon only with her—this time was different. Vivian kept him on his back, the position in which he had the least to do, except to use his hands, and mouth, and body as he pleased.

He mapped her treasures with his fingers and palms, then again with his mouth. He gave her all the soft words and silly promises; he teased and even tickled, though that came to a halt when she tickled him back.

They were unhurried, and while shadows lurked in the room, they weren’t the shadows of a permanent parting, or of guilt, remorse, or self-loathing. They were shadows many couples faced: the unknown, the challenges lying between them and a happily ever after, the worry any parents would feel for their child.

Vivian straddled Darius’s hips and took his swollen shaft in her hand. “You’ve stalled long enough, my love. I must have you now.” Her eyes had a feline glitter, determination and tenderness combined.

“Then put me where you want me, Vivian. Put me where I need to be.”

Her control was impressive—also damnably frustrating. She braced herself over him, joining their bodies by the merest lazy increments. Darius watched himself disappearing into her heat and felt his sanity evaporating as they became more and more intimate.

“Faster, Vivvie, please.”

She complied, though not by much. From some reserve of female wisdom, she was going to hold back, and hold back, until—

He did not groan, he shouted, the hoarse surrender of a man thrown headlong into pleasures of a nigh terrifying depth. While Vivian rocked and keened with him, Darius felt as if his body were becoming weightless, a pure light that merged with Vivian until they were one incandescent being, without end, without name, without limit.

And very nearly without breath.

As he panted in counterpoint with his lover—his lover—Darius had the satisfaction of realizing she was as wrung out as he was. And yet, they’d been tender—excruciatingly, wonderfully, miraculously tender. A whole new variety of tenderness formerly beyond his ken, one he never wanted to lose his grasp of.

He kissed her temple. “Are you all right?”

She swiped her tongue over his nipple—just the once. Yes. While Vivian fell asleep