Tale of Obsession: Courting Daphne Ch. 10

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Home and trials; love and confessions.
5.7k words
4.69
18.8k
9

Part 10 of the 11 part series

Updated 08/31/2017
Created 03/06/2010
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dedicated to the amazing readers who took time rating, commenting, and sending feedbacks on Courting Daphne, and to those who generously added me or any of my stories to their favourite list. Thank you very much for the support. My love goes to you always, SF.

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The silence of the night was broken by soft, childish giggles accompanied by gentle sounds of bare feet walking on lush carpet. Then, there was the silent chuckle of a man, muted at once by a pair of soft lips from which came a contented sigh.

On the other side of the door where the man and the woman leaned, wide-eyed ladies-in-waiting stared at one other, frozen in their seats around the gaming table.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?" Leander asked as he pulled the woman close to his body.

Daphne pouted and lightly pinched his side. "I didn't even get to drink what I wanted. Besides, why should I ever want to get drunk, huh?"

"Three reasons," Leander whispered, kissing the part of her neck closest to her ear. "One, you're home again after three years." He ignored Daphne's groan of exasperation, continuing, "Two, the war against Elgeshore is over, with the crown of victory resting on the heads of Thersalians. And, three..."

"And three what?" the lady asked when he said nothing more.

The general broke into a grin and gave her a peck on the cheek. "You're with me."

Daphne once again giggled, pressing her body close to that of Leander. "You cite very good reasons to drown myself in wine, but a proper lady doesn't drink too much alcohol, especially when the party she's attending is a celebration of men."

"Don't tell me that you're going to start saying that a proper lady drags a man away from his comrades so that she can have fun with him inside her bedchamber?" a chuckling Leander teased.

The lady, too, chuckled softly, before winding her arms around his neck. "A proper lady doesn't do that, but I'm hardly a proper lady. Or, at least, I don't plan to be one tonight."

Their mouths met. Both hungrily devoured the other. As if nothing else in the world mattered. As if there were no scandalized ladies trying hard to ignore the noises they were making behind closed doors.

As their passions began running high, Daphne decided to finally open the door, dragging Leander inside. The room outside her private bedchamber was in total darkness, but she knew that her ladies-in-waiting were all awake, possibly sitting around an unfinished game of cards. They were, thankfully, all smart enough to blow out the candles and pretend that they were not witnesses to their mistress's scandalous behaviour.

As if Daphne cared. Three years of not living in her father's house meant that she did not even know half of the women serving her. She had wanted the same bunch of ladies who served her before, but most of them politely declined and offered their daughters instead. Daphne, of course, took the younger girls in. There could be no better companions than silly girls who could be frightened into silence by one glare.

In stark contrast to the previous room, the inner chamber was illuminated by numerous lanterns hung on the walls. It seemed that nobody has forgotten Daphne's dislike of darkness. Even after three years...

But the lady was not interested in such sentimental thoughts right now. Her attention was focused only on the general who brought her back to her father: Leander Van Halen of the Army of the Black Wolves -- celebrated general, distinguished warrior: her protector, her lover.

Not a word passed between them, but they were already moving in harmony. It was as though their bodies shared a secret language of passion and desire: mouths claiming possession of every inch of their partner's skin; hands busily stripping away pieces of clothing on their way; breaths meeting and mixing, feeding the fire that was slowly consuming their souls.

Once both of them were fully naked, Daphne pulled Leander to the bed. Her first night back home, and she wanted to spend it in his arms. She had thought of it for days; nobody could have stopped her from sneaking Leander into her room so that they could make love all night. Not even the Duke of Wildercross, her own father.

Locked in each other's arms, they started rolling on the bed. Neither one wanted to give the other the distinguished position of being on top.

"Oh, Leander, be a gentleman!" Daphne murmured against the general's lips as he rolled on top of her.

"I am, as always, your loyal servant, my lady," Leander replied, chuckling. "I will indeed be gentle with you tonight."

Daphne softly laughed. It had been almost three months since they were last together; how could he promise to be gentle? But she was not insane enough to doubt her lover's promise. She, of all people, knew that Leander always did as he said he would.

As Daphne began using her hands to stroke the muscular male body she knew and loved, Leander pried her legs apart. His hands settled themselves on her thighs, stroking gently. Daphne caught her breath. She needed no further stimulation down there. Even without the foreplay, she knew she was more than ready. After seeing him again, touching him again at the end of the three months they were apart, who would not be?

If she has had her way, she would forget about foreplay and get down to business as soon as they were in bed together. Leander's tool has been hard for as long as she has been wet. Clearly, his cock was eagerly waiting to be buried inside her warm hole; there could not have been any complaints if she had impaled herself on it and not prolong the wait.

But Leander did not want her to lead tonight. And, quite maddeningly, he did not want to take her as quickly as possible. Not that she would object to his chosen path. In truth, she was looking forward to feeling the magic of his touch again before she surrendered her whole self.

So, with eyes closed, she took pleasure in his touch. There was no better way to feel how much he respected her than when he was making love to her gently. He held her and caressed her as if she was a rare porcelain vase, too fragile to hold with reckless abandon, too precious to break.

He would drive her crazy, she knew. Maybe he already had. Daphne could still remember a time when she considered the norms of propriety every time she would say or do something. The memory seemed to come from a very distant past, striking a nearly-nonexistent cord that would sooner or later fade into nothingness.

His caresses and kisses were driving her madder to have him inside. Her breaths were starting to come in gasps, and she all but grabbed Leander's cock and lead it into its waiting destination.

Just when she was certain she'd die of not being one with him, her prayer was answered. She felt him easing his cock into her, gently stretching the opening of her wet core. Her body let him in without difficulty, as her hole was practically flooded with lubricating juices.

"Open your eyes, little one," Leander whispered. "Savour the moment."

His invitation was accepted, and as Daphne did as he advised, she felt the most tremendous feeling of satisfaction slowly engulfing her. Suddenly, she was more aware than ever of the gift Fate had delivered to her door right after endless restless nights of worrying for Leander while he was fighting in the battlefield. Leander was here, for real, staring into her eyes while they made sweet, passionate love. Here with her: alive, breathing, loving. She was almost overwhelmed.

She pulled his face down to hers and planted a kiss on his mouth. He tasted of the wine he had been drinking before she dragged him away -- the best wine that could ever be found in this part of the world: fine, smooth, intoxicating. She pushed her tongue deep into his mouth to further acquaint herself with the taste, not merely of the wine, but also of him.

Leander's tongue met hers, swiftly changing the pace of her exploration. With deliberate gentleness, he played, arousing her even more. Daphne groaned, arching her back so that her hips pushed upward to meet his gentle strokes. But Leander placed his hands on her hips, restraining her movements.

"I want to enjoy you," he murmured against her lips before she could even complain. "Slowly..."

Groaning, not much out of disappointment as out of longing, Daphne ceded all control to the general. Leander moved his face away from hers, staring into her eyes as he continued their slow, sensual dance. Looking into his eyes, Daphne finally understood why people said that the hottest flames are blue.

Eventually, Leander began moving his hips in different directions. He even changed the pace of his strokes -- sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Daphne could do nothing but groan, louder and louder with each passing second. The feelings that assaulted her from the very pits of her being served to emphasize that the general was doing everything right.

Leander slipped one hand between their bodies and began touching her clit while he continued to stroke his flesh in and out of her. Once again, Daphne's breaths were coming in gasps, and as her body started trembling, she finally closed her eyes again, giving herself up to a deeply fulfilling orgasm.

The general did not stop then. He began pounding on her with enthusiasm. Daphne groaned, urging him on. Another climax hit her as Leander played with her nub of pleasure. Her groans and whimpers got louder. Repeatedly, she climaxed, as the general never really stopped stimulating her clit.

Her head was spinning with unimaginable pleasure. Nothing else existed but herself and the orgasms that hit her one after the other. With no other choice, Daphne gave in to the successive, seemingly endless waves of bliss that washed over her body. Again and again, she reached the peak, each one bringing her higher than the last.

She felt Leander's fingers intertwining with hers, heard him whispering loving words on her ear. She even felt his lips grazing along her cheek, felt the weight of his body pressed against hers. Her whole body was highly sensitized, yet, she barely remembered the details.

Almost nothing registered on her mind as she rode out orgasms after orgasms, until, with a loud scream, everything melded into one mind-blowing, highly-gratifying finish.

*****

Something light and soft was brushing against her cheek. Groaning, Daphne moved her face away. The "something" followed her, though, to her great dismay. It was brushing the tip of her nose now. Somewhat annoyed, she tried brushing it away from her face. Her hand found nothing.

Now intrigued, the lady finally opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a muscle-packed torso. A groan escaped her lips.

"Good morning."

She looked up. Leander was grinning at her. He was leaning against the headboard. Daphne frowned, now puzzled as to what woke her up, until Leander waved a single feather at her.

"Why did you wake me up?" she asked, the frown not leaving her face. "I still feel so drained..."

Leander chuckled just as knocks sounded from the door. "That's why I woke you up."

"Lady Daphne?" a lady's voice was asking from behind the door. "My lady, are you awake? The duke has been asking for you for nearly an hour!"

Upon hearing that, Daphne's eyes widened. She suddenly sat up, looking around. Her room, she realized, was bright not because of the lanterns hanging on the walls, but because of the rays of the morning sun.

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" she shouted, sounding aghast. "He will definitely kill me now!"

Beside her, Leander chuckled as the lady behind the door fell silent. Snaking his arm around Daphne's waist, he whispered, "Actually, she has been pounding on that door for nearly one and a half hours. I'm surprised you never woke up."

Daphne's eyes widened further as she looked at the general, before she whispered, "You jest, don't you?"

But the truth of Leander's words was confirmed by her lady-in-waiting saying that she has been knocking on the door "for a great while."

"Oh no," she groaned, closing her eyes. She would have a lot of explaining to do when she comes face to face with her father. She tried to break free of Leander's hold, but the general would not let go. "Leander, please, I need to go."

Leander moaned, but not in assent. He took a deep breath and pulled her down to the bed again. "No, you don't. Not after you passed out on me last night."

"I don't remember anything like that!" she complained in a whisper.

The general chuckled. "Of course you don't. I told you. You passed out."

Frowning, she tried to remember. Memories of last night seemed hazy at best, and Daphne realized that he might be telling the truth. Still, that did not erase the fact that she would be skinned alive by her own father if she keeps him waiting any longer.

Before she could plead her case again, however, Leander's mouth was already covering hers. Moaning her objection, she tried to push him away. As one of his arms was still around her waist, Leander used his other hand to caress her mound.

Daphne moaned again, although, this time, pleasure mixed with tentative objection. She allowed his tongue into her mouth, even responding to his kiss. Gods, wasn't he addicting? She parted her legs to give his hand better access to explore the centre of her womanhood.

"My lady? Should we tell the duke that you're preparing to meet him?"

At that instant, her lady-in-waiting's question was the last thing Daphne wanted to hear. She moaned her complaint, torn between remaining in Leander's arms and hurrying to her father's presence. The former would be pleasurable while the latter would be intimidating, but she knew her father would hear no excuses.

She broke free from the kiss, asking Leander breathlessly, "Will you stay here while I talk to my father?"

Leander groaned, his hand continuously stroking her now wet folds. "You know I can't. As soon as he is done talking to you, it won't be long before he asks for me."

Again, she groaned, completely torn right now.

"My lady? Shall we have the servants bring in your bath?"

This was getting annoying. Did they really think she would open the door for them when Leander was still with her inside? She finally answered, "Give me thirty minutes!"

The general chuckled and whispered on her ear, "That won't be long enough, my love."

A gasp was torn from her as Leander began sucking on her hardening nipples. She arched her body, pushing her chest toward him.

"Thirty minutes, my lady?" asked the woman behind the door.

"No," she said, her response somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She did not doubt that her ladies would interpret it as a sign of what was keeping her inside the chamber. "An hour."

"An hour, then, my lady," the woman repeated.

Daphne moaned, combing her fingers through Leander's hair. The general let go of her waist and focused more on stroking her body as he switched his mouth from one nipple to another. His warm mouth around the tips sent tingles throughout her body, snaking downward to pool within her folds.

"I will make it up to you," she promised softly. "This time, I won't pass out."

Leander chuckled and rolled off her, taking her with him so that she was lying face down on top of him. Daphne sat up, feeling his erect manhood pressing against her backside.

"You better not," Leander said. He then let go of his hold on her, spreading his arms in a grand gesture of ceding control. "The floor is all yours, my lady."

Slowly, Daphne grinned, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Leander's mouth. One hour. She would enjoy every second of it.

*****

Daphne lay awake on the bed, staring at the canopy. She was breathing hard. Leander was lying beside her, pretty much in the same shape she was in. There were no knocks on the door this time, but the lady felt something heavy and unsettling in the pit of her stomach.

'Pressure,' she thought, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. 'Because Papa waits.'

She imagined herself getting the sermon of her life. The duke would be furious. She arrived the day before with Leander and his army, having left Elgeshore about a fortnight ago. Her father understood that she was tired from the journey, and so the duke postponed their meeting for one day.

Today, she was supposed to finally have an exclusive conversation with her father. But she made him wait so that she could spend more time with Leander.

"Lady Daphne?"

Perhaps, the silence from her inner chamber was perceived by her ladies-in-waiting as a sign that she and Leander were done with their pleasurable business. Daphne sighed, opening her eyes again and looking toward the window. The morning light was long gone; the "one hour" she promised has already stretched to about five hours, and now, Daphne was sure she would get a long lecture from the duke about the importance of keeping appointments.

"I'm all ready," she answered the call. She sat up on the bed and planted a kiss on Leander's lips. "Give me a moment."

Leander smiled at her as she pulled the covers to his waist. "Afraid that they will find me irresistible?"

She frowned at him, ignoring his comment. "You are so dead, General Van Halen. I believe there's not an easy route away from my chambers."

The general merely laughed. "Won't you help me sneak out, since you were the one who dragged me in?"

"No," she answered, starting to close the curtains around her bed. "You're on your own. That's my revenge for what you've done."

There was a puzzled look on Leander's face. "What have I done?"

She smiled sweetly at him before slipping on the fresh nightgown that was spread on the divan at the foot of her bed the night before. "You're so aggressive that I ended up feeling so sore."

She watched as the man grinned, arranging himself more comfortably on the pillows. She blew him a kiss before finally closing the curtain at the foot of the bed.

There was not a trace of joke in what she said. She was indeed sore in a sweet, special kind of way. It was not something she minds, for it was a reminder of what they have just shared.

Anxious ladies-in-waiting rushed into her room when she opened the door. None of them asked her why the curtains around her bed were not drawn. Servants, too, were ushered in, carrying buckets and buckets of warm water for her bath.

With dizzying swiftness, numerous pairs of hands assisted in washing her body. What should have taken more than one and a half hours was finished in as short as thirty minutes. Once she was dressed, she was ushered out of the room quickly. They did not even give her time to kiss Leander goodbye. Not that she would want to; she had no wish for the ladies to see Leander's glorious body and fall desperately in love -- or in lust at least -- with the general. No way.

So she and her procession of young ladies all but ran along the hallways. Although hurrying, however, Daphne was still able to appreciate her surroundings. She noted that almost nothing changed. The same furniture lent grace and life to the vast structure that was the Duke of Wildercross' house. Mostly the same men and women were in service. The same jasmine scent floated in the air, blending with the peace and quiet of the house.

'I'm back,' she thought, happiness welling inside her. She might have run away from the Duke of Wildercross' estate, but this was still home.

Her moment of reverie was interrupted by the realization that they have almost reached the door of her father's study. Knowing that whatever awaited her behind the huge oak doors was something unpleasant, she sent her ladies-in-waiting back to her chambers.

The duke was seated behind his desk when she entered. The man was deep into whatever document he was reading, but he looked up when he heard the door open.

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