Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

Delia wrapped her arms around Eric's neck, her body flush against his in the warm, scented water of the bath. She pulled him closer, her earlier hesitation completely gone, replaced by a deep, undeniable certainty that had been unlocked by something she couldn't describe.

At first, Eric was so stunned by her sudden, passionate action that he didn't kiss her back. He was frozen for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with this bold, beautiful woman who had taken complete control. Delia's hand, however, traveled from his shoulder to the sensitive part of his neck, her fingers gently stroking the skin there, a silent invitation that needed no words.

That simple, knowing touch was enough to ignite the fire that was already smoldering inside him. He returned the kiss, his own passion rising to meet hers. With a slow, deliberate movement, he gently laid her down in the other side of the large, claw-footed bathtub, the warm water swirling around them.

He kissed her deeply, a long, searching kiss that spoke of his love, his relief, and his overwhelming desire. His lips then moved from hers, trailing a path of fire down her jawline to her neck. He kissed and gently bit the soft, sensitive skin there, his actions eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure from her. He moved lower, until he took one of her hardened nipples into his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing the peak, making her moan loudly, a sound of pure, unrestrained pleasure that echoed in the steamy room.

Her hands, which had been resting on his shoulders, now dug into his wet, dark hair as she pulled him closer, her body arching against his. After a while, he stopped, his lips moving to the soft skin of her cleavage, planting soft, reverent kisses there. He looked up into her eyes, and he could see how badly she wanted him. Her blue eyes, usually so guarded, were now dark and hazy with a desire that matched his own.

"Delia," he called out her name, his voice a low, husky whisper. His hand was still resting on her breast, his thumb gently stroking her skin.

"Eric," she replied, her own voice a breathless sound. She hoisted herself higher in the water, making sure their bodies were touching from chest to thigh, a clear, unmistakable answer to the unspoken question in his eyes. "You said… you said that if I have needs, I should let you know, right?"

She didn't wait for his answer.

"Well, then I have a very pressing need right now, Eric," she whispered, her gaze intense and unwavering. "Your touch burns my skin. Your gaze scalds my soul. I want all of you, all you can give me, because I know that I will miss you terribly when you are gone on your trip."

That honest, raw confession was all it took to completely turn Eric into a beast. He moved, positioning himself between her legs, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he inserted himself inside her. They both let out a soft sigh of pleasure as they became one. They moved in a perfect, harmonious rhythm, the water of the bath sloshing around them, their bodies creating a dance as old as time itself.

After a while, Delia decided to take control. She pushed him gently, and he, surprised but willing, let her guide him until he was sitting up against the back of the tub. She then got on top of him, taking him inside her once more. She moved up and down, her own rhythm slow and sensual, while Eric's large, strong hands grabbed her waist, guiding her, holding her.

"I don't think," he said, his voice a low, breathless groan, "that I will be able to forget this picture in a hurry."

He looked up at her, at how absolutely perfect she looked on top of him. Her wet, dark hair was clinging to her body, some of its long strands artfully covering her breasts. Her face was flushed a beautiful, deep red, and her moans were loud and clear now, a beautiful, uninhibited song of his name.

"Damn you for being so beautiful, Delia Carson," he said, a possessive, loving growl in his voice. "My Delia."

Delia lowered her head until her forehead was touching his, their breaths mingling in the steamy air. "Harder, Eric," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "Make me unable to think."

"I want more than that," he replied as he pushed deeper inside her, causing her to scream his name in a pure, ecstatic cry.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with an obsessive love. "I want your mind to be so filled with thoughts about me, so filled with thoughts about what we did here tonight, that there is no room for any other thoughts to occupy that beautiful space. Just like how you are the only one who is ever occupying my thoughts." He spoke in between his powerful thrusts. "Just as how I seem to have lost my own mind being so utterly and completely obsessed with you."

Later, after their passion had finally cooled, he stood by the open doors of her balcony, wearing only his trousers. The cool night air felt good on his heated skin. He lit a cigar and smoked, the familiar ritual, a calming one after the storm of emotion and passion he had just experienced.

He heard a soft, whimpering sound coming from the bed behind him. He turned and saw Delia, fast asleep, using her hand to search for him in the empty space beside her, a small, sad sound escaping her lips in her subconsciousness.

He immediately extinguished the cigar, his need for her presence far greater than his need for the smoke. He went back into the room and got into the bed beside her. He covered her sleeping frame with the soft, warm covers and then leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss on her neck. He cuddled her close, her back now tucked safely against his chest.

"I will miss you terribly too, my Delia," he whispered into her hair. He brought his forehead to rest against the back of her head. "I love you," he said, the simple, honest words that seems to echo in the room.