Oh, torture me, you beautiful thing
Without further ado, as promised, here’s the follow up *wink* to my post from yesterday. Ladies, I give you Darius Santiago from Gaelen Foley’s Princess, one of my favorite tortured heroes. *sigh* Enjoy!
“Darius,” she said again, breaking into his thoughts.
“Yes, Your Highness?” he asked absently.
She didn’t even glance at him. “Take off your shirt.”
He paused, not sure he’d heard her correctly. ... His tone was carefully amused. “Excuse me?”
“Take off your waistcoat and shirt, please.”
“Ahh, Your Highness,” he said lightly. “Believe me, I’m flattered but I’m not in the mood.”
She jerked her lovely face over her shoulder to scowl at him. “I’m not propositioning you, Santiago. For heaven’s sake! Don’t just sit there bleeding like a dolt. Undress. Now.”
For about two seconds, he considered obeying, then he merely watched her march across the room to another door, relieved to see at least she had the decency to blush. Most of the women he knew lacked that charming ability, or lost it, at any rate, by the time he was through with them. ...
When she came back into the sitting room, she had some hand towels draped over her arm, a sewing basket in one hand, and a bottle in the other of what appeared to be a whiskey. She set everything on the floor near his chair, then dragged the ottoman over and sat down on it across from him.
“Is there a problem, Santiago?” she asked, folding her graceful hands in her lap.
He stared at her.
“This will not do. You still have on all your clothes.”
Isn’t that my line? he thought, regarding her suspiciously.
Lifting both brows, she gave him a bland smile of waning patience. “Why do you prefer to suffer?”
“Because then I always know what to expect,” he replied with his most arrogant smirk.
She ignored it. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
He eyed the sewing basket, then glanced at her. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I’d rather not serve as the royal pincushion.”
“I know what to do,” she said. “I help at the pensioner’s hospital once a week.” ...
“If I needed stitches,” he told her, his heart pounding suddenly, “I’ll do it myself.”
“You said the cut runs over your shoulder to your back. Use your head. How do you intend to reach a wound that’s on your back?”
“I’ll see the surgeon.”
She gave him a smile of sugared treachery and reached up to tap his chin fondly with one fingertip. “Don’t tell lies, Santiago. I know you won’t see him. Don’t you trust me?”
Was she deliberately being obtuse or tormenting him just for fun? he wondered, inching back in his chair away from her. Maybe an aged pensioner of seventy could endure the touch of those silken hands without ravishing her, but he wasn’t half that old yet. ...
“I really don’t have time to play doctor with you.”
“Don’t make me pull rank on you,” she advised him. ... “If you refuse, I shall have to make it an order. Strip, sir.”
He didn’t move. He couldn’t suddenly. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t find his voice.
Done threading the needle, she set it carefully aside. She laid both hands on her thighs, gazing up at him.
He stared down at her, feeling increasingly cornered, unable even to spit out the words to explain his protest. What was he to say, Don’t touch me? He wasn’t that skilled a liar. Truly, over the past few years there had been moments, desperate moments near the edge of his solitary endurance, when he wanted this girl so much he quite despised her. He could not be fire for her, so he had chosen to be ice.
Now she was gazing at him as only she ever did, as if she saw things in him no one else could see, those unforgettable violet eyes looking too deeply into him, her gaze like a flash of lightning, illuminating landscapes within him he preferred to keep dark.
Save me, the thought trailed to his mind, he knew not why. He could only sit there, captivated, immobilized, half-terrified. Someone wanted to help him and he didn’t know how to react. Not just anyone.
Serafina.
The only living thing he ever trusted.
The only one he couldn’t have.
“Darius,” she said again, breaking into his thoughts.
“Yes, Your Highness?” he asked absently.
She didn’t even glance at him. “Take off your shirt.”
He paused, not sure he’d heard her correctly. ... His tone was carefully amused. “Excuse me?”
“Take off your waistcoat and shirt, please.”
“Ahh, Your Highness,” he said lightly. “Believe me, I’m flattered but I’m not in the mood.”
She jerked her lovely face over her shoulder to scowl at him. “I’m not propositioning you, Santiago. For heaven’s sake! Don’t just sit there bleeding like a dolt. Undress. Now.”
For about two seconds, he considered obeying, then he merely watched her march across the room to another door, relieved to see at least she had the decency to blush. Most of the women he knew lacked that charming ability, or lost it, at any rate, by the time he was through with them. ...
When she came back into the sitting room, she had some hand towels draped over her arm, a sewing basket in one hand, and a bottle in the other of what appeared to be a whiskey. She set everything on the floor near his chair, then dragged the ottoman over and sat down on it across from him.
“Is there a problem, Santiago?” she asked, folding her graceful hands in her lap.
He stared at her.
“This will not do. You still have on all your clothes.”
Isn’t that my line? he thought, regarding her suspiciously.
Lifting both brows, she gave him a bland smile of waning patience. “Why do you prefer to suffer?”
“Because then I always know what to expect,” he replied with his most arrogant smirk.
She ignored it. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
He eyed the sewing basket, then glanced at her. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I’d rather not serve as the royal pincushion.”
“I know what to do,” she said. “I help at the pensioner’s hospital once a week.” ...
“If I needed stitches,” he told her, his heart pounding suddenly, “I’ll do it myself.”
“You said the cut runs over your shoulder to your back. Use your head. How do you intend to reach a wound that’s on your back?”
“I’ll see the surgeon.”
She gave him a smile of sugared treachery and reached up to tap his chin fondly with one fingertip. “Don’t tell lies, Santiago. I know you won’t see him. Don’t you trust me?”
Was she deliberately being obtuse or tormenting him just for fun? he wondered, inching back in his chair away from her. Maybe an aged pensioner of seventy could endure the touch of those silken hands without ravishing her, but he wasn’t half that old yet. ...
“I really don’t have time to play doctor with you.”
“Don’t make me pull rank on you,” she advised him. ... “If you refuse, I shall have to make it an order. Strip, sir.”
He didn’t move. He couldn’t suddenly. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t find his voice.
Done threading the needle, she set it carefully aside. She laid both hands on her thighs, gazing up at him.
He stared down at her, feeling increasingly cornered, unable even to spit out the words to explain his protest. What was he to say, Don’t touch me? He wasn’t that skilled a liar. Truly, over the past few years there had been moments, desperate moments near the edge of his solitary endurance, when he wanted this girl so much he quite despised her. He could not be fire for her, so he had chosen to be ice.
Now she was gazing at him as only she ever did, as if she saw things in him no one else could see, those unforgettable violet eyes looking too deeply into him, her gaze like a flash of lightning, illuminating landscapes within him he preferred to keep dark.
Save me, the thought trailed to his mind, he knew not why. He could only sit there, captivated, immobilized, half-terrified. Someone wanted to help him and he didn’t know how to react. Not just anyone.
Serafina.
The only living thing he ever trusted.
The only one he couldn’t have.
Labels: for the love of rakes and rogues, fuckalicious, romance baby
hot dayumn!!!!! ok I am at work and my boss was coming my way. almost had heart attack but man it was totally worth it!!! LOL.
4/20/2006 08:57:00 AM
Harlot, I just don't have words.
Thank you.
4/20/2006 08:58:00 AM
OMG! OMG - Oh. My. GAWD!
4/20/2006 09:04:00 AM
Olé!!!!!
My working day is much happier now!
4/20/2006 11:58:00 AM
HOT DIGGITY DIZAMN! NIIIIICCCCCEEEEEEE!
Thank you Harlot!
4/20/2006 12:36:00 PM
Now, ladies, look all you want but, you know, he's mine. :P LOL *sigh*
4/20/2006 01:38:00 PM
"Whats he holding in the rocking chair? (Isn't that a nursery chair? lol)"
HM here's my guess...
A Condom?
4/20/2006 02:28:00 PM
It's actually a cord he's hooking with his finger. It looks like that thingy you use to adjust the window blinds.
Vixen, i'm the one holding the condom. ;) LOL
4/20/2006 02:52:00 PM
why does he keep looking at his weiner? I don't get, its not hard to remember where it is. Guys don't do this... well atleast not guys who aren't on the sex offender list.
4/20/2006 04:11:00 PM
Welcome rumour :D
Err, babe, i believe he's just posing for photos. :P Besides, men might not always look at their dicks, but they sure do think of/with it all the time.
4/20/2006 04:31:00 PM
God I love waking up in the morning to these posts.
4/20/2006 05:10:00 PM
Oh, I want to do lots of dirty, filthy things to him :P Thanks Harlot.
NOw, is this book Princess an historical? Cos a few of those quotes have a very contemporary feel about them e.g. "isn't that my line" doesn't sound v historical to me. But then I'm picky (as you are all very well aware!)
4/20/2006 05:21:00 PM
Tart, yep, historical. But it's good really. You should try it. :D
4/20/2006 07:02:00 PM
Trollop - you don't like Blondes? Hmm. You know, I don't either but go figure that the BF is a blue eyed blondie :P And maybe I'll try this GF chick - I mean really, a virgin turned blowjob queen! A must read LOL.
4/20/2006 08:11:00 PM
Tart,
Try Gaelen. :D I lvoe THE DUKE and PRINCESS. Don't listen to Trollop. When GF is mentioned, THAT blowjob is the only thing Trollop remembers. Honestly, i think she loves it so much!
4/20/2006 09:04:00 PM
sorry this is me... testing the picture crap.... but i'll comment again... mmmm mmmm good..... hes just like campbells soup.... nutritious and delicious!
4/20/2006 09:31:00 PM
I have to side with Harlot on GF (although, I've only read one of hers). I loved Princess. But Darius is so fucking hot you can't help but love him. Now, the princess is just okay but I don't give a shit about her b/c it's me he's REALLY with. LOL
Thanks HM, I was thinking the same thing about guys calling their dicks "weiners" LMAO
Wow, my language tonight.
4/20/2006 11:10:00 PM
The last one's my fave too. *sigh*
Helena, darling, he's already handcuffed himself to my bed. ;) LOL
Vixen,
Not sure if you saw my question at tagboard as it's already gone LOL. Was just asking when are you gonna see JC for the book signing? :D
4/21/2006 05:17:00 AM
Harlot, love this guy clothed! So I can take it right off...now where do I find him again? He's too yummy for words!
Man, is it hot in here?
4/21/2006 05:26:00 AM
oh...sorry you guys. He's all handcuffed in my basement now.
4/21/2006 06:48:00 PM
HM, what do you mean? Which part of sidebar is the last thing you can see? Where does it cut off?
4/21/2006 07:51:00 PM
HM,
Please refresh. How about now? Can you see the whole sidebar, from top to bottom?
4/21/2006 08:11:00 PM
HM, i'm not sure what's wrong.. I promise to look into it.
Okay, is it just HM who has this problem? Please speak up, so i'll know what to fix. Thanks.
4/21/2006 09:35:00 PM
Well, I've never posted to this blog before and just started reading it tonight, and loved it I must say! You gals are a riot, and sounds like you have some good reading material that I'm going to keep an eye out for now! ;)
But thought I'd put in that I too can only see half on the left pink side bar, and the one with the cbox I can see everything but the part that I could put a comment into. Could just be the screen size though, I'm running on an 800x600 and I've had problems with other sites in the past because of this.
4/21/2006 11:27:00 PM
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