Dion's Desire

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Her sigh gusted between them and he grinned, aware he was being played. “You don’t have to do that, hriso mou.”

  “Then where will I go for the night?”

  He had to act or explode. In one swift, almost savage move he pulled Chablis into his arms and kissed her hard. Her lips parted beneath his and he rammed his tongue between them, deep into her mouth. Despite his irritation, her soft mouth fired him with unholy passion. She tasted of his wines, the fruit of his vineyard, and product of his hard labor. That intensified his desire. Heedless of anyone present who might notice or comment, Dion did his damnedest to put his mark on her. If any of them dared protest or make comments, they could follow Seth back to Los Angeles.

  “You sleep with me,” he told her when he paused to breathe. “You’ll share my room, Chablis LeBlanc. I’ll have your bags moved there.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  The woman amused him, delighted him, got under his skin, and he wanted her with an aching need he had never experienced. “Dionysus Bacchus doesn’t ask,” he told her. He spit out the full, formal name he used. “I take what I want.”

  “Then take me.” Chablis whispered the words.

  “Oh, I intend to, hriso mou.”

  Dion lifted her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. Without caring what his staff or the few thespians present might think, he carried her from the room and up the staircase to his tower room on the third floor. The rest of the top level consisted of small servants’ rooms and attics for storage but his tower was his favorite room in the house.

  “This is awesome.”

  Chablis walked to the vista of windows overlooking the property, her face lit with appreciation and delight. Dion followed. “Yes, I think so too.”

  In the distance, the mountains on the horizon appeared rugged and beautiful, much like those in Greece. He lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck, his cock tight against his trousers. Behind them, his custom made bed, larger than king-sized, loomed, the vivid purple satin sheets turned down in invitation. Large pillows, some the same purple as the sheets, others in a contrasting green, rested against the head. When first ordered, Dion thought he might one day enjoy an orgy with multiple partners within the space but he never had. He brought few of his conquests to his private quarters and he could count the women he’d taken to his bed on one hand. None had ever spent the night, but he planned to keep Chablis with him tonight and for the remainder of her weeklong stay. Seven days had never sounded so short, he thought, then dismissed all thought of time in the wake of his increasing passion.

  His lips against her satin skin enhanced his desire, his mouth hot against her cooler flesh. Dion’s restraint vanished. He turned Chablis to face him and savaged her mouth with his. She moaned and kissed him back. His fingers tore away her blouse, fabric tearing in his urgent haste. They grappled together, hands roaming, mouths connecting, until both stood bare as birth. Dion savored her taste on his lips and delighted in her soft flesh.

  He bent his head to kiss the hollow in her throat and let his hands stray to squeeze her full breasts. Each nipple became as full and ripe as grapes at harvest, so he suckled them as her breathing increased into frenzy. Chablis’ hands rubbed his back, her nails becoming claws to slash with impatient passion. Gods above, he welcomed the stinging wounds and they fired his passion to greater heights.

  Dion backed her to the bed and they collapsed onto it in tandem. Greed coupled with need unleashed his true nature and he took her with the force of the old deities, like the god he had been and remained. He used fingers, tongue, even toes to experience her body in every carnal way he could imagine. When she realized the power of his onslaught, Chablis struggled for a few brief minutes before she yielded to him, her cries wordless and shrill.

  Once he finished his tour of her body, he mounted her and entered. His cock had become harder than diamonds as he slammed it into her pussy. Chablis whimpered as her cunt took him all the way into her, shivered as the inner walls closed around him with the sure fit of a tailored glove and Dion gloried in it. Pure sensation induced spirals of delight to begin at his crotch and expand outward until his body rocked with them. They became a beast with two backs, a phrase he hadn’t heard nor used in centuries, and hammered each other hard. Their legs and arms were so intertwined he had trouble figuring out which were his, which were not. He pounded her with his torso, his dick growing more impatient with each thrust. Her slick warmth played havoc with his desire to make it last as long as possible and the tension built until he gave way to ride it into oblivion.

  When his orgasm began, Dion thought it might tear them both apart with the sheer force. With his powers unleashed, he wasn’t gentle and he feared he might damage Chablis but he couldn’t stop or temper it. His body trembled like an earthquake, the roar of the seas filled his ears with noise, and he went blind as if he stared straight into the sun. Exquisite pleasure consumed him and he drowned in it until at last, his cock fired into her with all he had. He shouted out in Greek and she shrieked. They came together, hot and fast and hard, then sagged into weakness, their bodies a mass of sweat and cum.

  The sheets on his great bed were tangled, the mattress awry and the pillows scattered. Dion slumped against her, his heart pounding and breath short. He tingled from head to toe with a rich and pleasant reminder of the most fantastic orgasm he’d ever had. Aftershocks rattled through his limp limbs and Chablis relaxed with a long sigh. She sounded satisfied, he thought, and pulled her into the circle of his arms.

  He said nothing. Mere words could not begin to describe what they had experienced, so he savored the easy silence between them, and to his total surprise he slept until after dawn’s first light illuminated the horizon with soft gold.

  Chapter Four

  Dion stirred with languid lethargy. A deep happiness he hadn’t felt in years permeated his mind and body. Every intense moment of the previous night flashed through his brain and he opened his eyes on Chablis’ sleeping face. Golden hair snarled and gone wild framed her exquisite face, her lips soft and slack in repose. He could watch her sleep for hours, he decided, but he leaned forward to kiss her, first sweet and slow, then with a growing intensity. Tenderness washed over him in waves and tempered his desire with a gentle emotion he had never experienced toward a woman, mortal or otherwise. Dion ached to cherish Chablis, to protect her and keep her.

  “Good morning, beautiful lady,” he said. One finger traced the line of her cheek, and then touched her mouth. “The day awaits us.”

  And he knew it would be busy. The festival always was hectic and harried, the first day most of all. Dion longed to linger, to play with Chablis but he couldn’t. His mental to-do list loomed large.

  “I’ve got a thousand things to do!”

  Dion smiled. “So do I, but you can stay for breakfast with me perhaps?”

  “I guess I can spare a few more minutes.”

  “You can.”

  They showered together in his huge bathroom, part of his suite. The wide windows opened to the sky but were so high there was no chance any curious eyes could pry. He took her with swift delight in the shower, unable to resist, then they emerged, clean and sated. His staff delivered a tray laden with traditional Greek breakfast dishes, the kind few tourists ever tasted. Dion nodded his approval at the galatopita, the rich custard dish often called a milk pie and the omelets rich with graviera and feta cheeses with smoked pork. He poured two cups of strong coffee as Chablis dressed and savored the flavor. When she joined him at the round table in one corner where he ate each morning, she inhaled with interest.

  “It looks fabulous,” she said.

  He liked her comment. “It will taste even better, I promise.”

  After she finished, she blotted her lips with a napkin. “If I ate like this every morning, I’d gain so much weight I’d never fit into any of my clothes. You mustn’t or you wouldn’t be so lean and trim.”

  Dion did. The metabolism of an immort
al could handle any amount of food without putting on pounds, but he didn’t think this would be the time to offer an explanation. He spread his hands wide and shrugged. “I get my exercise around the vineyard,” he said. “And I’m late already. I must go.”

  Chablis nodded. “I should, too. I’ve got to get the troupe together, run through the plays, and be ready for the first performance at two. Will you be there?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he said. “Kiss me?”

  She rose to meet his lips and the kiss flared into a powerful heat. He craved her body again but he resisted. He had no time, not now. Dion hummed as he headed downstairs to the office to confer with Constance before he headed into the fields. Graciela glanced up from her computer screen with a smile. “Good morning, boss.”

  “Hello, Graci. Is Constance busy?”

  The young woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, but she wants to see you.”

  Dion didn’t bother to knock as he strolled into Constance’s office. She lifted her chin in greeting but gestured to the phone held at her left ear. He nodded and sat down in a chair to wait. “Yes, yes,” she said into the telephone. “I understand. Today is the first day of the festival, however, and so we need tight security on the gate. And no, he shouldn’t be given access. Yes, Mr. Bacchus agrees. In fact, he’s right here. Did you want to speak to him?”

  Apparently they didn’t because she finished the phone call within seconds. “Everything is on schedule, Dion,” she said. “The weather forecast is for sunshine and perfect temperatures, the vendors are all here and setting their sites up near the theater, and as far as I know, The Masques are ready to perform.”

  “They are,” he said. “Who was on the phone?”

  Constance frowned. “There was a small fuss at the main gate with someone who wanted access.”

  Something in her tone warned him. “Who?”

  “Seth Burnett,” she said. “The man who…”

  “I know who he is,” Dion said. “And that’s correct. I don’t want him on the property. What I wonder now is what he wants.”

  She shrugged. “There’s no telling but it’s no longer an issue. Dmitri said if he won’t go on his own, he’ll have the sheriff take him into custody.”

  Dion smiled but it wasn’t a joyful expression. “That’s excellent,” he said. “Now, let’s check the schedule together to be certain we haven’t missed anything.”

  He found everything in order and the festival began without a hitch. The Saturday sunshine had never been brighter or the vineyard so lush. Dion used his vintage pickup to drive to the theatre to check the vendors. Their encampment of vivid tents and awnings in every shade made an open-air market that reminded him of the ancient days. Some of the offerings were generic, offered at every event from Highland games to county fairs. The cotton candy, the kettle corn, and the turkey legs were tasty enough but had nothing to link them to ancient Greece or theatre. Jewelry, collectibles and of course, everything related to theater from drama masks to bound copies of the plays were also available.

  The gates opened to the public at ten and long before two, crowds lined the open-air seating waiting for the first play. Dion stood in the shade and watched as Chablis and her troupe practiced their lines. He ogled her as she got into costume and although he had other duties, he took a seat stage left to watch the performance. It was exquisite, he thought, well played and almost perfect.

  In between monitoring the festivities, Dion conferred with his vineyard managers and his laborers. Both varieties of grapes ripened beneath the California sun, the vines growing so well he could almost hear their progress. He plucked a few grapes and tasted them, their concentrated sweetness delicious on his tongue. He did all the things he had always done, for many years, but his thoughts strayed to Chablis. Dion wondered what she might be doing and as often as possible, he headed back to watch her.

  After the final play, he claimed her and rode her with him on the golf cart back to the house. She sparkled with the afterglow of a great performance, lit from within like a radiant candle. They dined together on gyros and salad, and then finished with a few figs and some of his best wine. “Did you enjoy the day, hriso mou?” he asked.

  Chablis swirled the last of the wine in her goblet and drank it. “I did, Dion, I did very much. I had a wonderful day, almost perfect.”

  He quirked one eyebrow. “Almost?”

  Her smile touched him deep within, in his most secret and vulnerable places. “If you could have been with me all the time, it would have been ideal,” she told him.

  “Ah, woman,” he replied with a groan. “If I could, I would.”

  “I know,” she said. “Make love to me, please.”

  Dion needed no invitation. He removed the Grecian-style gown she wore with gentle fingers and unleashed her magnificent hair from its pins until it cascaded around them. He placed one strong hand behind her head and held her there, his opposite arm about her waist. Then he put his lips against hers, the honey of them sweeter than any wine he had ever tasted, more satisfying than any food. Electricity leapt into being between them and he kissed her until they both stood nude together.

  She fondled him and ran her nails over his back with teasing wonder. When Dion would have put her on her back and taken her, Chablis shot him a wicked smile. “Let me,” she said.

  Before he could guess her intention, she dropped to her knees before him. Her hand grasped his shaft and squeezed. With his cock already tight and hard, the sensation rippled through him with incredible pleasure. He moaned with delight and let his fingers catch in her streaming hair. Chablis laughed, the sound so delectable he almost came and then took him into her mouth. She suckled him with her warm, moist mouth and each motion brought an incredible rush of wonder. When she used her tongue to lick and lave him, he thought he would burst and die but he held back.

  When he could bear no more, he tugged at her hair. “Enough,” he said. “Let me in, Chablis.”

  She removed her mouth and for a moment, he mourned its absence. Chablis fell onto the bed on her back and spread her legs wide in invitation. Without hesitation or restraint, Dion drove his hard cock into her, too desperate to wait or to be gentle. He packed her pussy full and rode her, each magnificent stroke evoking a cry of pleasure from Chablis. His dick radiated with sensation and intense delight. The powerful build up toward climax increased the tension until he released and brought her with him for the ultimate ride.

  They both cried out, voices mingled as they came hard and fast. And afterward, they slept twined together. Chablis fell asleep first and he didn’t think she heard the words he whispered, “Agapi mou.” He didn’t mean to say them but once he had, he knew the truth, which he would never tell her and didn’t want her to know.

  But he meant them and he loved her.

  Chapter Five

  The festival continued, each day as like the next as matched pearls in a strand. They rose together, showered, ate, and then parted. Dion did his daily tasks with increasing distraction and hurried through his chores to get to Chablis. He watched each performance, stole kisses from her whenever he could, and they dined together at every meal.

  Perhaps I should tell her who I am. Let the truth be known and go from there.

  The more Dion considered it, the more he thought he should.

  On the last night of the dramatic festival, he made special preparations and once the performance had ended, he took Chablis to a secret place on the far distant end of the vineyard, a private spot nestled between two hills and hidden to all but the most prying gaze.

  Above them, the skies were bright with a million stars and the moon waxed toward full with a luminous beauty. A light breeze whispered through the wines and brought the scents of night blooming jasmine as well as honeysuckle with it. At the path, which led to his retreat, he parked the golf cart. “We have to walk from here,” he said.

  Dion adored her in the Grecian dress and before leaving the theater, he had insisted she unbin
d her hair. He lifted her into his arms, cradled her close and marched down the narrow path to his temple. Small trees lined the way, branches often meeting overhead. If Chablis wondered where he might be taking her, she didn’t ask.

  They emerged into the clearing and he put her down on her feet. “Here we are,” he said. “Look!”

  His Doric style miniature temple graced the space, the white columns stretching high toward the star-flung sky. A few clouds scudded overhead and blocked the radiant moonlight so he used one hang to disperse them. Pure silver light shone down onto the structure and Chablis gasped with wonder.

  “Oh, Dion, it’s wonderful. Is it a temple?”

  “Yes,” he said. He wondered how much she knew about the reality of temples back in the day. Although sacred to one deity or another, most of the ceremonial events had happened elsewhere and more often than not, the temple space had been used for storage of blessed items. In the main room, however, statues and icons filled the altar, not to worship but collected the way mortals kept family pictures of their dear ones. He wondered what she might think as his pulse raced, odd for a god.

  “You built this?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Her uplifted face caught the moonlight and gave her the beauty of a classic statue. “Why? Are you pagan, Dion? Do you worship the old gods?”

  “Come inside,” he said. “Then we’ll talk and I’ll tell you.”

  He grasped her hand in his and led her into the inner spaces. One candle of those he had lit earlier remained and in the semi-darkness, he flicked his finger to light the remainder. As each one awakened into flame, their soft glow illuminated the marble spaces. The vases of roses he had added everywhere offered up their sweet scent. Crimson roses, yellow ones, pink blossoms, white roses, and every combination in between teemed everywhere because once Chablis had mentioned they were her favorite flower. He had placed soft cushions on a marble bench, one with a back, so that they could sit in comfort and on the stone table before it, chilled wine and two glasses waited.