Married To Darkness-Chapter 350: Take Me, Enid

Enid had wanted this for years.

But not like this.

Not when her heart belonged to someone else.

To Alaric.

His cousin who always seemed to stand in the center of every storm, even the ones Enid hadn’t realized were brewing.

"Genevieve," he said again, but it was a strangled whisper this time — part warning, part plea.

She stepped closer, the dress sliding down her arms, threatening to pool at her feet.

"I’m sorry," she murmured, her voice breaking. "But if only the council had even a sliver of sense, they wouldn’t have engaged me to that barbarian."

Her bare shoulder caught the candlelight, glowing like polished ivory. Enid’s fingers twitched.

"I’m sorry too," Enid whispered.

Because he wanted her. Gods, he wanted her.

But not like this.

She was beautiful — too beautiful — and it drove him mad knowing she’d never looked at him the way she looked at Alaric. No matter how close they were now, standing in the darkened silence of his chambers, she would always want someone else.

But the scent of her skin. The curve of her lips. The way her breath hitched when his hand finally, finally grazed her waist—

He leaned in, his nose skimming the delicate line of her neck, and he groaned softly against her skin.

"If I touch you," Enid said, his voice hoarse with restraint, "there will be no turning back."

Her hand slid up his chest, splaying over his heart.

She gulped, "I know."

It was seduction.

It was desperation.

And it was a storm; neither of them knew how to survive.

Enid wanted Genevieve, and he’d shown it since, it had been in the way he defended her whenever anything happened with her in the middle.

After Alaric stopped being her friend, he had been the next in line, he would give her fruits and flowers but she always seemed to only see Alaric.

"I’m sorry," Enid whispered, though his voice carried both regret and a fierce longing. He reached out, tentatively at first, then with growing urgency, stroking her exposed arm and drawing her closer. "I’ve waited so long..." he murmured, his voice rough with pent-up need.

Her eyes fluttered closed as Enid’s hands traveled over her skin—first gentle, then insistent. He kissed her slowly at first, savoring the warmth of her flesh, then deepened the kiss, their lips colliding in a desperate mingling of passion and pain. Genevieve’s fingers tangled in his tousled hair as she responded, her moans low and fervent, each kiss stirring memories of forbidden love and silent heartbreak.

"Now I need a taste of you," Enid growled, his tone dark and possessive. With a sudden, decisive motion, he tore her lace dress from her body in a single, savage rip that elicited a gasp from Genevieve. Her skin, soft and vulnerable, was exposed to his searching gaze.

He trailed kisses down her neck, his tongue flicking over sensitive skin, while Genevieve’s hands roamed his chest, desperate to bridge the gap between them. Her eyes searched his, pleading for reassurance, for an affirmation of love that she had never truly felt—only the cruel echo of duty.

"I want you so bad," Enid admitted, his voice a low growl that resonated in the charged silence. "I’ve craved you since forever..." His words trailed off as he pulled her close once more, their bodies pressing together as if trying to meld into one.

Genevieve, trembling and overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, whispered, "I’m ready but this isn’t about love, Enid."

Enid’s eyes darkened with a possessive fire as he murmured, "Then let’s not waste another moment."

Their kiss resumed—slow and sensual at first, then deepening into an almost frantic hunger. Enid’s hands and lips mapped every curve of her body, igniting a fire that neither time nor duty could quell. Their lovemaking was a tempest, a slow, passionate dance of pain and pleasure, of longing and sorrow, until the room itself seemed to pulse with their shared heartbeat.

In the aftermath, as soft sighs replaced the earlier, fevered gasps, Enid whispered tenderly against her ear, "I promise, this will hurt, but I will take away your pain tonight, if only you let me."

Genevieve’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a mix of desire, vulnerability, and an unspoken plea. "Take me, Enid," she breathed. "I want to be yours—tonight." freewёbnoνel.com

For a long moment, they simply held each other, the intimacy of the moment weaving a tapestry of fragile hope and desperate need. And as the night deepened around them, with each stolen kiss and whispered promise, the weight of their forbidden passion pressed them together—a dangerous, beautiful secret that neither could deny.

Her shoulders tightened.

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."