Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One
Page 38
Lizzy laughed at his stammering opposition. “I want to love you, Fitzwilliam, any way you desire. I crave your touch on my skin and your body on mine. I hunger to bring you pleasure and show you how ardent my love for you.” She kissed his eager mouth passionately, overwhelming senses with her breath and insistence. Pulling away finally, she whispered, “Take me to bed, my lover.”
He stared into her eyes for a moment longer, searching carefully for any residual pain or fatigue, but only sheer desire and love shone forth. With a sigh, gripping her securely in strong arms, he stood and entered their bedchamber. The inn’s bed was not as large as Pemberley’s ,or as fine, but it was comfortable. Darcy sat on the edge, lying his wife gently back onto the downy comforter while kissing her lovely mouth.
Pulling back mere inches, he stroked the hair from her face, twining silky tresses about his fingers as he gazed at her. “Elizabeth, you are incredibly beautiful. With each day your loveliness increases. I do not comprehend how it is possible, yet it is true.”
In typical Darcy fashion he alternately caressed, kissed, and nibbled over each delicate facial feature, all the while murmuring endearments and praises for the beauty of his wife. Lizzy’s eyes were closed, her senses reeling with her husband’s words of devotion and heated touch. Darcy paused at her lips, running feathery fingertips over her flesh, observing her rising passion with tremendous satisfaction and indescribable happiness. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, “my wife, my lover.” He slid his tongue over her lower lip as she sighed. “Mine forever, beloved…Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth had long ago succumbed to the amazing reality of her husband, but the magnificence of his physique never failed to overwhelm her. His potent masculinity and virility and stamina continually stunned her. The sensations they roused in each other at the tiniest touch, or even at a look, staggered her still, yet she embraced it as a heaven-gifted expression of the extraordinary bonding love they shared. After nearly six months of marriage, their passion only grew stronger, their lovemaking as necessary as breathing, with rarely a day passing without gratifying release and blissful devotion to the other achieved, often more than once. They occasionally purposed to experiment with some new technique from the books or a fantasy, yet usually their movements simply evolved naturally at the moment. Opportunities arose spontaneously and were latched onto with zeal, neither hesitant to try something new. Trust was unwavering, love unmatched, and desire to please the other first of paramount importance. Selfless giving was the central goal.
Tonight was different only in Darcy’s residual apprehension, which induced him to proceed in a reserved manner despite Lizzy’s clear desire for a wild interlude. In the end, she would not care, as their mutual rapture was as blissful and blinding as always.
Slowly reality and strength returned to them both. Lizzy moved first, turning in his arms and encircling his shuddering, damp skin, and bestowing a lingering kiss. “I love you,” they said concurrently and then chuckled, kissing one another tenderly.
Smoothing the tangled hair off her forehead, he kissed a perfectly arched brow. “Are you well, my love?”
“I am divine but sleepy. Hold me, William?”
“Forever, Elizabeth. Forever.”