Yearning For You: A Pride and Prejudice Novella (A Blissful Mariage, Book 1 - Hot Mush Series)

by Lory Lilian

  Elizabeth blushed, and Lady Matlock nodded in approval.

  “You should do just that,” Georgiana replied. “We have spent such a lovely time with Elizabeth, but we shall leave now.”

  “Thank you—I appreciate your concern,” Darcy spoke readily. “We shall call on you soon.”

  “I talked to Elizabeth about the opera,” Lady Matlock added.

  But Darcy interjected rather unceremoniously, “Dearest aunt, I deeply appreciate your support and your care. We shall do everything you suggest. For now, I must retire. Have a good day,” he ended with a meaningful glance at Elizabeth.

  Flustered, the new Mrs. Darcy mumbled something until her guests finally left. Then, she informed Sarah she would not be needed until further notice and hurried upstairs to her chamber, closing the door after her.

  Her heart, filled with love and gratitude for seeing her husband home safely, beat wildly. She pressed her hand to her chest to temper her breathing.

  Then she sat on the bed, waiting a few minutes until she realised the moment had come and she should be prepared for it—and for him.

  Chapter 9

  Half an hour passed before Darcy—freshly shaved, bathed, and wearing only trousers and a shirt—entered his wife’s room. Sitting on the bed, Elizabeth wore a nightgown, her hair loose. His admiring gaze told her he was delighted with the sight.

  “I locked both apartments,” he said, moving towards her. “And I instructed Stevens to feign amnesia about the location of our rooms. Unless someone is dying, I do not wish to see or hear anybody.”

  Elizabeth laughed nervously. He looked so handsome and powerful as he came towards her that her mouth became dry.

  He sat beside her and kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, her forehead, her eyelashes, and her lips again.

  She barely murmured, “I missed you so much it hurt. I never imagined that longing could be so painful.”

  ”I know, my love, as I have felt it even longer. Your lips are sweeter than I remembered.”

  “And your scent is even more intoxicating,” she replied. “Are you not tired? You must be exhausted. Should you not rest a little? We have all the time in the world…”

  “All I should do—all I need to do at this moment—is to love you. I do not trust time or fate anymore,” he teased her. “I am not at all tired.”

  “So you deceived your aunt and sister?” she inquired laughingly as her lips became trapped in his kiss.

  “I did, and I am not even ashamed of my behaviour. I would do anything to be with you. Inside you,” he whispered hoarsely.

  She shivered at his words as her body warmed inside. Then she ceased speaking and surrendered utterly as he assaulted her with renewed passion. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke was more enchanting than before, as this time she knew what they would bring. Her body seemed to possess a will of its own, and every move was a plea for more.

  The room was bathed in daylight, and she wondered what he might think of her so thoroughly exposed to his gaze. She tried to hold the covers around her for a few moments, but he gently pushed them away.

  “My love, I want to see you…will you allow me?” he pleaded.

  Her passion won the battle with reason, and when his hand stroked her thighs, they parted to welcome the delight. Yet, what followed was even more breathtaking. In astonishment, she felt his lips travel to her breasts, linger tenderly, then move lower, tantalising her navel, then further until his mouth nipped lightly at her inner thigh.

  Her head was spinning as she sensed her legs parted; his burning, eager lips traced a line of fire along her thighs, and his husky voice spoke through his moans.

  “I want to savour every inch of you, my love.”

  His kisses moved closer, and she stopped breathing though her body begged for more. When mouth replaced fingers, the world collapsed around her. Her heart beat wildly, and the heat within intensified the thrills that made her tremble. The rapturous feeling of being kissed, tasted, and savoured seemed to last forever, as did the pleasure that shattered her repeatedly while time stood still.

  “My beautiful wife”—she eventually heard words of love tickling her ear—“please look at me.”

  Elizabeth tried, but her eyelids were heavy, her entire being spent.

  Darcy was lying atop her, and his warm breath bore the scent of her own passion. Between her legs, he supported himself on his elbows and watched her adoringly. She understood the moment had come, and her arms closed around him while she smiled with loving abandon and welcoming desire.

  “The first time will be painful,” he said with gentle concern.

  “It might…but I want nothing more than to become your wife…in every sense. Any pain is worth that.”

  “I shall be gentle and patient…even if it kills me,” he teased her, and laughter flew from her lips before he captured them. In his dark eyes, obvious care for her comfort united with barely restrained desire.

  He caressed her face tenderly, and Elizabeth’s soul melted in the touch while her body opened to him, her own desire matching his with complete, unconditional trust in her husband. She offered herself to him, knowing that whatever came would be marvellous because it was shared with him.With tender passion and restrained eagerness, he entered her. A brief, sharp pain was soon forgotten when she felt him inside her, possessing her body as he had possessed her soul for so many months. Every astonishingly delightful move tore through her—unbearable pleasure and pain. Her heart was filled with love, and her body was filled with passion—theirs together.

  Moans and cries became an intimate duet, and waves of fulfilled desire shattered them. Elizabeth’s hands embraced him forcefully, and his lips covered her face with kisses. Only the sound of their wildly racing breaths could be heard in the chamber; the rest was silence and rapturous happiness.

  No words were needed to express their joy at the long-awaited consummation of their love. The powerful sensation they experienced was overwhelming to both.

  Moments passed before their reason slowly returned.

  ***

  Elizabeth’s soft hair smelled of jasmine, and her silky skin smelled of love—the most intoxicating scent Darcy had ever experienced. He could not release her from his arms; she might be just another dream that would vanish.

  She rested as he embraced her from behind, her hair caressing his chest. He would like to read in her eyes—in her soul—what she felt in those moments, but she faced the fire and seemed to avoid his gaze.

  Darcy hesitated to speak or move in his concern for her. His body was still unsatisfied, and he was angry with himself for this lack of control. He feared he had not been as patient as he promised. He imagined that his pleasure must have been painful for her. He was also concerned that he must have frightened her with his wild behaviour as he himself was amazed by some of his more intimate gestures.

  He cared for no boundaries—no rules. He kissed her everywhere in a way he had never done before nor ever imagined he might do. But touching Elizabeth, kissing her, caressing her seemed the most natural thing in the world, and his pleasure came from hers. He never hesitated a moment; he had been merely thirsty for her and impulsively slaked his thirst. Was she upset? If he could only see her eyes and read his answers there.

  She did enjoy herself; he was confident of that. He vividly recollected the expression of her beautiful face the moment she reached the peak of her pleasure. But she was in pain too. He also clearly remembered that moment. What was she feeling now?

  “Elizabeth? Please speak to me, my love.”

  She slowly turned in his arms. Her warm, soft breasts brushing his were a sweet, torture that aroused his desire even further.

  “Was it painful, my love?”

  “It was painful but most pleasantly so,” she confessed unexpectedly, and he start
led.

  “I am sorry…I apologise.”

  She chuckled. “You have no reason to worry, my dear husband. Becoming your wife was less distressing than I expected and more blissful than I hoped.”

  “I am thrilled to hear that, Mrs. Darcy.”

  There was another moment of silence before she turned her back to him again, cuddling against him.

  “May I ask why you avoid looking at me?” His voice was husky, and his lips were placing soft kisses along her ear.

  She quivered and laughed. “I do not; I just prefer to lie like this.”

  “Are you upset with me?” he asked, still worried.

  “No indeed—quite the contrary. I find it very pleasant to be held like this,” she admitted lightly.

  ***

  The torment of waiting for the moment of completion had passed, and Elizabeth’s spirits returned to their usual gaiety. Her happiness was now complete; she felt perfectly content in her husband’s arms, teasing him and allowing herself to feel and speak without restraint.

  “Oh, now I see. Then please, do not turn. I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours, Mrs. Darcy,” he replied, and she laughed.

  His fingers moved the hair that covered her ear and continued to caress her soft skin tenderly.

  “You were not really pleased the first time I told you that,” he continued.

  “I remember. It was a time when you were not my favourite person, I confess.”

  “I know. Although back then I believed the opposite like the fool I was. But there is something I have long wanted to ask you. About Wickham…”

  She tensed in his arms. “What could that be?”

  “I have wondered how partial you were to him. If he had a comfortable living—if he were a clergyman or something—would you have been tempted to accept his pursuit? Would you have considered marrying him?”

  Darcy’s voice was now grave and hesitant. Elizabeth slowly turned to look at him in earnest.

  “My beloved husband, I shall not attempt to deceive you with a comfortable answer. The truth is—I do not know because I never thought of a future with him. I did enjoy his company and his manners. He had all the appearance of goodness, and I thought him handsome enough. The more partial he appeared to be towards me, the more I was tempted to believe his falsehoods about a man I thought despised me and ruined my sister’s felicity. I was flattered by his attention. But my heart was never touched. I did not care when he began to court Mary King. I never missed his presence when he was away. I was never in the position of wondering whether he might make me an offer, so I never gave it any consideration. If he were different, if the situation were changed—well, that would have been another story entirely—one I cannot and do not want to waste time imagining.”

  Elizabeth spoke with such determination that his countenance lit, and any trace of worry dissipated. Darcy kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose.

  “I am a complete fool! Why on earth did I mention the name of another man during these precious moments? I am selfish and inconsiderate because I cannot believe my good fortune. I continue to worry about how easily I could have lost you, and I cannot but see how poor my life would have been without you.”

  “How is it possible to worry about the past, my dear Mr. Darcy, when our present is so perfectly and completely blessed? We have already shared the blame for the things we did wrong. Let us share the merit of the lessons we have learned from our mistakes and the joy in our improved selves. I have said it before, and it bears repeating: neither of us is perfect, but we are perfect for each other.”

  “I promise I shall think only of the present and the future—only of you, my beloved.”

  “Excellent,” she said, stealing a quick kiss and then resuming her earlier position.

  After a while, his hands started to move along her body, now fully exposed to his passionate exploration. She moaned, and he stopped.

  “Shall I allow you to sleep, my love? I know you must be tired.”

  “I am tired…but I doubt I could sleep,” she whispered. Her hand touched and stroked his thigh that was draped over her leg. He groaned and encircled her waist, caressed her belly, and then possessively cupped her breasts. He traced tingling circles, teasing her nipples, which hardened with desire. Her body pressed against his, trapped by his possessive touches. His strong legs entwined with hers, and his hardness pressed against her bottom.

  She felt his desire rising again, and a sense of fear followed by a passionate urge enveloped her.

  “Are you in any pain? Should I stop?” he whispered.

  “No…do not stop,” she begged.

  “I shall—anytime you tell me. Please do not bear any discomfort for my pleasure, beloved. I can wait until—”

  “My love, I am certain no other woman has borne less discomfort and more delight on her wedding night…or better said, wedding day.”

  By now, their movements had become as irregular as their breathing; touches, strokes, and fondles were shared in a profound willingness to reach the other’s pleasure, as well as their own. Whispers were teasing, just enough to increase the enchantment. They played with each other, desire growing into unleashed ardour.

  “To be more accurate, the third day after the wedding,” he said, and she laughed, heart lightened. He gently moved her head to the side to capture her lips.

  “But I am relieved to hear about your delight nonetheless,” he answered hoarsely. “And it is my duty as your husband to do everything in my power to enhance it with every passing day.”

  “I do not believe it can be more enhanced, considering what has already transpired between us. But I shall be perfectly content to remain the same.”

  “You must trust me in this too, my dear wife,” he said, barely able to speak as his lips tasted her skin. “This is quite a new experience for me as well. I never imagined I could love a woman as much—in every sense. And I am quite sure that, the more I practice, the more proficient I shall become.”

  “Undoubtedly!” She laughed at his bold promise just before she cried in pleasure as his fingers touched the heat between her thighs with gentle, tantalising strokes. She wished—she needed—to face him, so she finally turned. Their eyes met only for a moment before his lips briefly tasted her chin and journeyed to her throat then lower to the softness of her round breasts. Her back arched to him, and he understood and obeyed the plea, slowly bringing her to the moment her eyes opened and glowed with pleasure.

  The urge, the longing to feel him inside her again grew unbearable for Elizabeth, overcoming any remnants of fear or discomfort. Brief pain and a wave of fulfilled desire filled her body when he entered her again with renewed passion. He was possessive and almost wild in his thrusts, yet tender and caring, his moves matching professions of whispered love.

  Elizabeth heard little of it, but every fibre of her body sensed what he wanted to prove. Through the waves of overwhelming delight, she wondered that he could be so large and strong but still fit perfectly inside her.

  Darcy was right again: everything she felt was more intense, more powerful, more enchanting with every passing moment.

  His amorous moves suddenly stopped, and he begged her to look at him one more time. Their gazes held fast, and she knew this was only a pause to allow them to connect more intimately.

  “I have been yearning for you so long, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth!” he said, resuming the dance of passionate love inside her.

  “As have I, my dearest Mr. Darcy!” she responded, her body following his in search of another shared expression of how perfect they were for each other.

  The End

  Book Two: Mrs. Darcy’s Fine Eyes, coming August 2018

  Mariage, Book 1 - Hot Mush Series)