Married To Darkness-Chapter 351: Taken By Him

Her eyes, heavy with unshed emotion, locked with his as she hesitated only for a heartbeat before whispering, "Undress me."

Enid’s response was immediate and unyielding. With a barely perceptible rasp, he guided her hands as she stripped away the remnants of her lace dress. Their bodies moved together with a slow, passionate urgency—every kiss, every gentle nibble and caress weaving a tapestry of both longing and relief. "Now I need a taste of your love, a taste of what’s mine," he declared in a voice dark with desire. With a sudden, fervent motion, he tore her dress in two, discarding it like an unwanted barrier, and his lips found her bare skin. He trailed kisses down her neck, then further, exploring her with a measured hunger that left her gasping.

Their passion deepened as Enid’s hands roamed, his fingers tangling in her hair and drawing her closer. "Is all of this for me, Gen?" Genevieve whimpered as his touch grew bolder. In response, Enid’s gaze burned with an intensity that sent shivers racing along her spine.

He whispered, "I’m yours. I’ll take away all your pain, if you let me." With that, he continued his slow, relentless exploration, each stroke and thrust both a promise and an admission of desire that bordered on desperate need.

As the night advanced and the intensity built to an almost unbearable crescendo, Genevieve’s body shuddered beneath his touch, each moan a declaration of her surrender and need.

Enid’s pace quickened as passion transformed into a fierce, mutual urgency, until their lovemaking became a wild dance—a torrent of heat and desire that left them both trembling in the aftermath. In the soft glow of the candlelight, with their hearts still racing in unison, Enid gathered her close, his whispered reassurances mingling with the quiet sounds of their shared breaths.

Later, when the fevered intensity finally ebbed away, Enid tenderly lifted Genevieve into his arms. He brushed a gentle kiss along her forehead, murmuring, "This will hurt if I could take away your pain, I will—but tonight, let me make love to you, so you can find your release." In that moment, as they lay entwined in the quiet afterglow, Genevieve’s soft, heartfelt "Take me, Enid. please," was both a surrender and a defiant proclamation. Their bodies, still slick with the evidence of their passion, relaxed into each other as the world outside faded away—leaving only the intimate promise of a love both tender and fierce, a love that, for a few precious hours, transcended duty, guilt, and the weight of royal obligations. freēwēbnovel.com

Enid’s voice softened into a low murmur as he pulled Genevieve close, his eyes dark with possessive longing. "Relax, I have no expectations from you tonight," he promised, his tone both gentle and commanding. With his free hand, he reached for the delicate lace of her top, gathering it into a soft, ruffled fold above her breast. Genevieve drew a deep, shuddering breath and, through a mix of pain and pleasure, managed a whispered, "You look just perfect."

Slowly, Enid’s warm mouth descended onto her skin. He captured her nipples tenderly, eliciting a soft moan that vibrated against her sensitive flesh. His lips, tracing gentle paths, roamed over her skin as his teeth pressed lightly in a teasing, almost playful manner. Genevieve’s back arched involuntarily against the bed, her body responding to each measured caress even as a part of her shivered with conflicted desire. He repeated the tender assault on her other breast, each movement drawing forth a mixture of moans and murmurs that filled the quiet room with a raw, sensual rhythm.

"I want you so bad," he growled huskily, the intensity in his voice cutting through the charged silence. At that moment, Genevieve reached for him—her trembling hand seeking the heat of his body, the assurance of his touch. Her eyes, heavy with unshed emotion, locked with his as she hesitated only for a heartbeat before whispering, "Undress me."

Enid’s response was immediate and unyielding. With a barely perceptible rasp, he guided her hands as she stripped away the remnants of her lace dress. Their bodies moved together with a slow, passionate urgency—every kiss, every gentle nibble and caress weaving a tapestry of both longing and relief. "Now I need a taste of your love, a taste of what’s mine," he declared in a voice dark with desire. With a sudden, fervent motion, he tore her dress in two, discarding it like an unwanted barrier, and his lips found her bare skin. He trailed kisses down her neck, then further, exploring her with a measured hunger that left her gasping.

Their passion deepened as Enid’s hands roamed, his fingers tangling in her hair and drawing her closer. "Is all of this for me, wife?" Genevieve whimpered as his touch grew bolder. In response, Enid’s gaze burned with an intensity that sent shivers racing along her spine. He whispered, "I’m yours. I’ll take away all your pain, if you let me." With that, he continued his slow, relentless exploration, each stroke and thrust both a promise and an admission of desire that bordered on desperate need.

As the night advanced and the intensity built to an almost unbearable crescendo, Genevieve’s body shuddered beneath his touch, each moan a declaration of her surrender and need. Enid’s pace quickened as passion transformed into a fierce, mutual urgency, until their lovemaking became a wild dance—a torrent of heat and desire that left them both trembling in the aftermath. In the soft glow of the candlelight, with their hearts still racing in unison, Enid gathered her close, his whispered reassurances mingling with the quiet sounds of their shared breaths.

Later, when the fevered intensity finally ebbed away, Enid tenderly lifted Genevieve into his arms. He brushed a gentle kiss along her forehead, murmuring, "This will hurt if I could take away your pain, I will—but tonight, let me make love to you, so you can find your release."

In that moment, as they lay entwined in the quiet afterglow, Genevieve’s soft, heartfelt "Thank you, Gen, now I’m never letting you go," was both a surrender and a defiant proclamation. Their bodies, still slick with the evidence of their passion, relaxed into each other as the world outside faded away—leaving only the intimate promise of a love both tender and fierce, a love that, for a few precious hours, transcended duty, guilt, and the weight of royal obligations.