Mr Darcy's Cottage of Earthly Delights

by Beth Massey

  When he left her bedchamber, telling her he would return in an hour; he had made an odd request. She was to prepare for bed, but leave her hair up. The touch of his fingertips as they had trailed down the nape of her neck had prompted those strange feelings he evoked in her. His voice had been husky with some kind of emotion as he had said, “Please leave it up. I want the honour.”

  She was wearing nothing but the gown she had purchased for this occasion. The yellow silk clung to her ample curves. Her sisters had assured her that the cut and the colour were perfect. She had done as he asked, and there was nothing more to do but wait. Her fingers touched the etched LEH on the back of the brush. She could not remember telling him her middle name was ‘Elaine’, yet the set with the correct middle initial had been waiting for her in the mistress’s chambers. She said a little prayer her marital duties would not be as unpleasant as Wickham’s attentions had been.

  The sound of the connecting door caused her to turn in her seat to see him. Despite his size he moved with such grace and agility. Numerous guests had commented on the pure perfection of their partnering on the dance floor.

  He smiled at her and said, “I see you are ready.”

  Lydia returned his smile, albeit with a look of apprehension in her eyes and replied, “Yes, I am ready.” He was wearing only a robe that gaped and exposed his massive chest as a feast for her eyes.

  As he stood behind her, the warmth of his expression was reflected for her to see. He placed a silver box on the table. It too was monogrammed, and was similar to the other pieces of the set. “This is for your hair pins. I had it made to match. From behind he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

  Catching his eyes in the mirror she murmured her thank you and rubbed her face against his hand in a cat like motion. She could see he approved of her response.

  He began removing the roses and pins one at a time. His movements were slow, caressing and filled with tenderness. As she observed his ministrations, her response—spreading warmth that caused a blushing glow—was reflected in the mirror. His pleasure at her reaction was evident, as he proceeded very slowly with his task. Each rose was used to brush a cheek, her neck, her throat before it was set aside. Each pin was placed in the silver box, before he proceeded to remove the next. When her hair had been loosened from its restraints, he began to brush her long silken tresses.

  His voice had the same husky quality she had heard earlier. “Your hair glistens like a raven’s wing. I know curls are very fashionable, but I much prefer your shimmering waves. There is a sensuous quality to your hair that is like no other. When I first saw you, and took in this ebony silk cloud… framing a flawless ivory complexion… studded with eyes that changed with your mood; it was the stuff of dreams. I wanted you in a way I have never wanted anything before.”

  He brushed her hair for several more minutes. His words made her slightly breathless, and soon she experienced a spasm deep within her and she began to shiver with each downward stroke.

  “Are you cold, precious one?”

  “No, I am actually feeling quite flushed… but it is a pleasant sort of warmth. The shivering I believe is some form of anticipation. Your touches and words cause me to have feelings.” She pointed between her legs. “There. I never felt that with Wickham. Do you know what the sensations mean?” Once again, she saw in the intensity of his gaze, an appreciation for her reaction.

  “Lydia, it is time to take you to bed. When I held you on my lap on Tuesday, you seemed to savour the closeness. I was afraid you would fear what we are about to do because of Wickham’s disregard for your comfort. Tonight, you display no distress, and instead you tell me of your body’s urges to join with me. Precious love, let me make you soar with pleasure.” With those words, his hands dipped to her breasts and he began playing with her nipples.

  The sensation left her breathless and her speech ragged, “Jon, I appreciate that you want to make this night enjoyable for me.” A moan interrupted her words. When she spoke again she choked out, “Ooh that feels so good. I want you to make me… as you say… ‘soar with pleasure,’ but I must have my part. More than anything, I want to thrill you with my touches.” She rose from the bench, turned toward him and placed her arms around his waist. Her mouth found the exposed skin of his chest and she planted kisses in imitation of those he had dispensed the other day.

  It was not long before Jon decided she was ready for more. He lifted her from the floor; her legs intuitively encircled his waist while his hands began caressing her bottom.

  Speaking as best she could with such an assault on her faculties, Lydia managed to make the point she had been deliberating. “This last week has awakened in me a desire to give you pleasure with my caresses and kisses. Will you teach me? I am ready to learn.”

  In answer, Jon traced the outline of Lydia’s lips, “You have wonderful lips with which to deliver kisses. They are so soft, and lush, and full… they are truly voluptuous.”

  Lydia’s eyes were appreciative of his words, but then she remembered something Maria Lucas had told her. “Our neighbour, Lady Lucas, once said full lips are more prevalent among the lower classes.”

  Jon was annoyed both at this woman’s remark in general; but more importantly he despised the tendency of people to cruelly exploit the insecurities of others… particularly the young that had not developed the confidence needed to navigate society. His sister, despite her beauty, had often been hurt by a careless remark about her height. Most of all he felt protective of his wife. He had seen the pain and vulnerability in her eyes as she remembered the remark. “Who is this woman? What does she know about what men like? And she certainly has no idea what I prefer.”

  Lydia sensed disapproval in his voice, and she answered him quietly. “She is the wife of Sir William Lucas. He often goes to Saint James.”

  Jon’s face still registered disdain as she spoke, but when he noticed a flicker of apprehension in his bride’s eyes, he softened his expression. He lifted her chin the better to see her mercurial eyes. “Lydia, you have already become quite skilled at kissing my lips, and I love your adventurous tongue. Please remember, I am the one you need to please… not Lady Lucas. By the time we fall asleep tonight, you will be my expert lover.”

  His smile was the one that always made her melt inside. All she could think to say was, “Yes, Jon.”

  He carried her to the edge of the bed, and untied the ribbons at the neckline of her gown. Once released, the wide neckline allowed the gown to fall easily to the ground. When his eyes saw her body for the first time, he was truly in awe. Even with his many years of experiencing the female form, she was magnificent. Her creamy white breasts were large and firm… her pink tipped nipples begged him to suckle… her waist was narrower than many and her hips wider than most. Between her long shapely legs was a v-shaped patch of hair as black as that on her head. This was no Meissen doll, but the most sensuous flesh and blood woman he had ever seen.

  The look in his eyes gave her more confidence than she had ever experienced at any time in her almost sixteen years. As he stood before her, he dropped his robe. Just as easily as she had succumbed to a surety she could be the lover he craved; her assuredness was lost when she saw what was between his legs. He was at least double the size of Wickham… both in length and girth. If it had been uncomfortable with George, she became certain she would cry out with pain when Jon entered her.

  His lordship had seen boldness take over her countenance as he appraised her form; only to be replaced by a look of terror as she came face to face with his arousal. Now was not the time to hesitate. Picking her up, he effortlessly deposited her on the bed and lay beside her. He whispered into her ear, “It was not the size of Wickham that hurt you, but his complete lack of technique. Trust me.” He reached for her hand and placed it on that which she feared. “I promise this will please you, not hurt. If I am not telling the truth, I will buy you anything you desire.” As he was talking, he was guiding her hand up and down. He moaned
with pleasure and said, “Lydia you are thrilling me with your touches.” She giggled as he used her words. He moved her hand to the tip, and allowed her to feel the milky liquid trickling out.

  “What is happening to you?”

  “It is just a bit of a man’s anticipation of things to come. My body is reacting to you much as your body reacted to me when I was brushing your hair. Both prepare us for joining and any number of things will arouse. The best lesson is to observe what pleases me. You will know when you elicit an appreciative response.”

  He led her hand to his chest. Guiding her… he established the tempo of touches he liked. Soon he left her to tour his body, while he began his own exploration. He kissed her voluptuous lips and encouraged her to explore his mouth. He suckled her magnificent breasts, he stroked her legs from her ankles to her inner thighs, and he kissed her ample bottom. She seemed to love his chest as much as he loved hers. She nipped at his nipples without any instruction, and he moaned appreciatively to encourage more. Her hand travelled back down to the object of her apprehension. Her fingers encircled its girth and she slid her hand up and down. She discovered the sacks beneath and gasped in amazement as they hardened beneath her hand.

  While she was occupied with touching his equipment, he found her nub and began to make slow deliberate circles with his index finger. The sensation must have been quite pleasurable, for her hand stilled in its exploration of his body as she began to concentrate on her own. She rubbed insistently against his hand and pushed her torso forward to position her breasts at his mouth. He accommodated her demands and smiled as he realized just how enjoyable love making with her would be. Her natural boldness came to the fore as he brought her closer and closer to the brink. Without thinking what her action meant, she opened her legs wide and began to rhythmically lift her hips. He acted swiftly upon her invitation. Her wetness surrounded him, and he was actually glad she was no virgin. There would be no distraction from their goal with thoughts of the legacy of pain. His thrusts were welcomed and met as she clasped her muscles around him. She had the tightness of youth and inexperience, but the audacity of a daredevil. It was a heady combination. He slowed to allow her to experience a release. His length allowed him to reach that spot deep within her tunnel. But just to be sure she experienced a climax to remember, he adjusted his angle of entry to also brush her external pleasure spot with every thrust. As he felt her body stiffen, he increased his speed and within seconds he followed her to gratification.

  As their bodies returned to normal breathing and heart rates, she nestled in his arms. “Oh Jon, you are magnificent. I definitely was soaring with pleasure.” Her look was sincerely puzzled when she asked, “Why was Wickham so horrible?”

  “Because he only thought of his release, and cared not about you. The secret to successful lovemaking is remembering that pleasure is derived from both giving and receiving. Wickham lacked your intelligence. You knew before we began that you wanted to thrill me with your touches.” The laughter she had fallen in love with filled the room. “And voila I was thrilled, and then you were able to soar. Many women think they should be passive and play the role of receptacle. You have called me your burly bear… well, today I determined, you are my tempestuous tiger.”

  Her infectious giggle was heard just before she asked, “So how much longer does your tiger have to wait before she can soar again?”

  Elizabeth awoke in Will’s bed to a knock at the door. “Will, Will, there is someone knocking. I am naked and my nightclothes are in my dressing room. What should I do?”

  He mumbled then sounded peevish as he spoke, “Let me sleep. I have already made love to you twice. Are you never satisfied, woman?”

  Elizabeth could not help herself. She laughed at her husband. She had, indeed, insisted on a slower and more sensuous performance by him after their first urgent coupling. They had barely made it upstairs after their waltz in Grosvenor Square. He had cursed the buttons on her dress, and it took all of her ability to restrain him from ripping it off her. She still had three more sittings with Mr. Lawrence. What would he think if her dress was torn? Once their clothes had been dropped in pools on the bedroom floor, he took her quickly in what she had dubbed his ‘stallion style.’ Oh my, she had a husband and what a magnificent lover he was… such stamina. And to think a year ago she had been certain she would be a spinster. As she lay there with the evidence of their love making sessions still clinging to her body, she wondered if she would have ever realized what she was missing had she fulfilled that destiny.

  Suddenly she remembered what had awakened her. The knocking seemed to have ended. Who could it have been? Ah ha, she believed it might have been the fruit they requested. The realization hit her with the hunger Max had predicted. She crawled out of bed and went through to her room.

  When she returned dressed in a nightgown and robe, he was sitting up in bed yawning. In a grumpy voice he asked, “Why are you dressed? I like you best with no clothes.”

  “Are you always so disagreeable upon waking? With all the confessing you did, you could have at least mentioned that character flaw.”

  “I am annoyed because I expected to wake up to a warm body nestled against mine. That has been my dream for years. And the first time I awaken after we marry… there is no warm body… neither nestled nor even anywhere to be found in my bed. When you were confessing, you did not disclose you were not planning to stay with me while we slept.”

  “Will, someone was knocking at the door. I think they were trying to deliver the fruit you requested. What time is it?”

  He pointed to the clock on the mantle and scratched his head.

  Elizabeth moved toward the fireplace to be able to read the time. “It is five minutes past eight. Was it at eight you wanted them to bring the fruit?”

  His tone had softened as he became more awake, “Yes. Are you hungry?”

  “I am. Max was correct. It must have been wedding nerves that kept me from eating. Now that I have had some exercise, and I am no longer tense—thanks to you; I am famished.”

  He smiled at her innuendo, but was not quite awake enough to join her in word play. “Check outside. They might have left it in the hall.”

  When she opened the door, there were actually two trays. One was laden with a bowl of strawberries and grapes and the promised platter of Max’s pastries. The other had bite-sized pieces of Stilton and Cheddar, squares of toasted bread, a decanter of wine and two glasses. Elizabeth was forced to make two trips to bring in the bountiful selection of food and drink. She placed one tray on each of the tables beside his bed.

  Before she joined her husband, she added more wood to the fire and replaced several candles so they could see to eat. To please her disgruntled husband, she removed her robe and gown, and to annoy him she kept her distance once she returned. She sat cross-legged on the bed and popped a tiny éclair into her mouth.

  Will’s sleep fogged brain had finally cleared and he was ready to engage in some verbal jousting with his love. “Mrs Darcy, we are married only a few short hours, and already I learn how talented you are. I believe I may be able to reduce my staff based on your skills. You will be able to take on the tasks of tending the fires and seeing to the candles. As I remember, you are also quite efficient at mending pens.”

  Elizabeth’s tongue lingered as she licked the chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “Mr Darcy, I am but a humble country lass and have many accomplishments at which I excel that are not those to which girls of the ton care to aspire. I believe they were not even mentioned on your list at Netherfield. Now that you have legitimatized me with marriage, I promise to arduously stoke your fires and trim your wick, but I am not sure I have the skills to mend your pen. I believe it was Caroline Bingley that was noted for that accomplishment.”

  He threw off the bedclothes and moved toward her on his hands and knees. She put up her hand and said, “Mr Darcy, your wife needs to eat.”

  He put on a ridiculously false look of contrition and sighed.
“You win, Mrs Darcy. But once I have fed you, you will earn your keep… all night long. I expect you to always be available to stoke my fire, trim my wick and I will teach you how to mend my pen.” He loved the tinkle of her wicked laugh.

  Her face was serene and without a hint of a tease as she said, “Actually I have a suggestion for how we can have our cake and eat it too. Are you willing to try something new, Mr Darcy?” He looked warily at her, but nodded his consent. To the platter of pastries she added some of the fruit, cheese and bread. The platter was placed within an easy distance and she encouraged Will to sit opposite her with his legs open. Once he was in position, her head bobbed down and her mouth surrounded the beginning of his arousal. His sputter of surprise made her wish she was not occupied and could laugh. However, she had begun the ministrations she had been taught by Bella and then had practiced for the past two nights. Her tongue traced the vein from the bottom to the top, and then back down to the bottom several times. Next she swirled her tongue around the head and dipped its tip into the slot inside his folds. She created as much suction as she could and began moving, once again, up and down his member with her entire mouth. His moans told her she was successful.

  His choice of words as he panted out his question made her chuckle, “Lizzy, I thought you wanted to eat. What are you doing to me?” She must have done something he liked because next he said, “Ooh, ooh, ooh, please you must cease or I will not be able to control myself.”

  Elizabeth determined he was sufficiently stiff for her plan to be successful. She removed her mouth and quickly impaled herself on his erection. His stare of amazement resulted in first a mischievous smile and then a kiss from his attached wife. Her legs wrapped around him and her muscles gave him a good squeeze. She licked her lips and her smile now took on a bit of a demonic air. “Oh, but Mr. Darcy you are so very yummy, I would have liked to feast on you for hours, but I guess I will just have to settle for the standard fare.” She looked toward the platter and said, “So what would you like first… a pastry, a strawberry, a bit of cheese or perhaps another kiss… or I do have two very succulent raspberries that are your private reserve.”