by Jane Austen
Elizabeth’s breath quickened and she looked down at their joined hands, unsure of how to respond. She had enjoyed it immensely, of course, but she did not want to own to it. What sort of a lady would it make her? How could he have any respect for her if he knew she thought often of his hands roaming over her body and wished for their firm caress once more? What would he think if he knew she wanted his mouth on her again, wanted more than she had experienced thus far? Much more. She wanted him inside her. Elizabeth knew there would be no going back from such an act, but what did it matter? They had already crossed the lines of propriety. Just this once she wanted to forget about what was right and proper and give in to her desires. She was tired of playing by the rules of society. If nothing else she knew she could count on Mr Darcy’s discretion.
“I do believe you are at a loss for words, Miss Bennet. I am sure I never imagined I would see that day.”
Darcy relinquished his hold on Elizabeth’s hand, but instead of moving away he placed both palms on her knees and parted her legs before trailing his fingers along the inside of her thigh. Elizabeth could feel the heat radiating from his hands through the thick cotton layers of her dress and a rush of excitement shot through her body. She drew in a sharp breath as shivers raced up her spine and a surge of need blossomed in her core. How could she deny him anything? She did want this, though she knew she should not.
“I would say you enjoyed what I did to you tremendously and you would not be opposed to a repeat performance.”
Darcy’s words permeated through Elizabeth’s fog of lust and she snapped her head up to meet his gaze. “If that is what you would say then that would make you impossibly arrogant,” she remarked.
“Arrogant, no. It was a most logical conclusion.” He leaned in close. “Do you deny it?”
Yes. “No,” she whispered.
Though she hated the way her body responded to him, Elizabeth did not object when he knelt on the floor in front of her and lifted the hem of her dress. Unconsciously, she opened her legs wider to accommodate his hands. They slid up her legs with aching slowness and she was entranced by them. Her skirts were pushed to the tops of her thighs, and then Darcy simply looked, the hunger in his eyes fuelling Elizabeth’s own. The sexual need between them roared until Elizabeth felt her sex swell and grow wet. Darcy kissed the inside of her thigh, then trailed his tongue higher, a small moan escaping his lips. He looked up and met her eye.
“I want to taste you again,” said he, his voice husky and low, dripping with untamed desire. “Would you allow it?”
“I believe you already know the answer to that question.”
Darcy got to his feet and held out his hand. “Take me to your room. I think it would be better if we were not interrupted.”
Before Elizabeth could form a reply, Darcy leant down and kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. He took what he wanted without remorse. It was undeniably erotic. When they separated, Elizabeth got to her feet and with an outward courage she did not feel on the inside, she took his hand and led him from the room.
Fearful of meeting the servants, Elizabeth hurried them along to her chamber. As soon as they were inside she closed the door and opened her mouth to speak. She did not get the chance. Darcy was on her. Enveloping her in his arms, he attacked her mouth and Elizabeth could do nothing but hold on for the ride. She kissed him back with fervour, her body strung tight with desire. She lifted her hands to his hair and held him in place as his hips ground wildly against hers. He was hard, and Elizabeth knew without having to question herself that this time she was going to have him, going to welcome him inside her body without pause or hesitation. She needed this. Darcy’s actions were practically desperate. His hands touched every part of her they could reach. They gripped her buttocks then cupped her breasts, moved down her waist and rubbed at her sex, and through it all Darcy kissed her, long and hard until Elizabeth was lightheaded from the overload of sensations.
When the need to touch him became too much, Elizabeth ran her hands down Darcy’s firm chest and kept going until she reached the hardness in the front of his trousers. She squeezed lightly and Darcy gasped. Separating from her mouth, he let his head fall back and a strangled, coarse-sounding moan escaped his lips.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Touch me.”
Elizabeth did, rubbing her hands up and down his sex. The desperate plea in his eyes convinced her to take things further. She looked around, and this time it was her who suggested they move to the bed. Darcy was quick to comply with her request. Keeping her eyes on him, Elizabeth undid the sash on her dress and threw it on the floor. Taking her lead, Darcy removed his jacket and placed it on the dressing table, but instead of taking off any more of his clothing, he waited for her instruction. She knew without question that he would not press her if she changed her mind. But she had no intention of changing her mind.
“Undress me,” she directed, turning so that he could open the delicate buttons that ran the length of her dress.
Darcy did not hesitate, and with each button he undid, he kissed the skin that became exposed, his tongue tracing her spine with delicate sweeps.
“Your skin is so soft,” he moaned against her back.
When he was finished with the buttons, he stepped back and Elizabeth turned, holding his gaze while she slipped the material off her shoulders and arms, letting it drop in a messy bundle at her feet. She stepped out of the dress and threw it aside, uncaring as to where it landed. Her undergarments were next. Darcy helped remove her corset and while she stood before him, finally naked, there was a small moment of silence as his appreciative gaze travelled over her body, but it was far from uncomfortable. He appeared mesmerised by her and Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot, but she kept her head held high and stood her ground. It felt wonderful to forget about society’s rules and conventions for once. While she was alone with him like this, she cared about no one’s expectations but theirs.
“You are beautiful,” he said breathlessly. “More so than I ever imagined.”
“I am happy you approve, sir,” she said quietly.
“Approve?” he echoed. “How could I not?”
With shaking hands, Elizabeth reached out and touched his chest, her desire to see him without clothing overriding her sense of embarrassment, though she had to concede that it felt deliciously naughty to be standing naked in front of him while he was fully clothed. He leaned towards her and the passion in the depths of his rich, brown eyes caused her breath to stutter.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered into her ear. “Do you desire my mouth on you again?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. When she next opened them he was looking at her expectantly. She found the courage from somewhere within to answer him.
“I want…everything,” she replied. “I want to take you inside me.”
It was evidently the answer he required because a low growl of approval rumbled in his throat.
“Lie down, Elizabeth,” he instructed.
She hastened to comply, stretching out on the bed, her legs parted slightly as she waited for him to make the next move. While Darcy unclothed himself, Elizabeth watched the action with growing interest. He removed his shoes then began to remove his shirt. The powerful chest that was revealed was magnificent—firm, hard lines with a sprinkling of dark hair that led down to a lean, toned stomach. His trousers were next. And when he, too, was finally naked, Elizabeth could do nothing but stare. His manhood was very large, sitting proudly against his stomach with a bead of moisture on the tip. Elizabeth licked her lips, wondering how it would taste, but the size…
Darcy climbed onto the bed beside her and she finally lifted her gaze to his face. “It’s very big. What if does not fit?” She felt silly to voice her concerns, but then Darcy smiled and stroked his fingers along her cheek, calming her.
“It will fit,” he replied. “You will open and stretch for me and when I have fin
ished loving you with my mouth your body will be so wet it will glide in with ease. Though,” he added, “I understand there might be some pain, at first.”
The mention of pain was unwelcome, but she soon focused on the other things he had promised. His mouth on her again. She wanted that had thought of it often.
“I am ready for you.”
His hands stroked softly up her arms and he kissed her quickly before rolling them so that his body covered hers. He braced his arms on either side of her head and Elizabeth gasped as their naked bodies came into contact for the first time. As she wrapped her arms around his broad back, tracing the hard muscles she encountered, he leant down and kissed her again, this time with surprising gentleness. His lips were soft and pliant, but as the kiss went on, it deepened, his tongue dancing alongside hers, caressing every portion of her mouth. As Darcy repositioned his leg so that his thigh rested between hers, she delighted in the weight of him atop her and stroked her hands further down over his lower back, finally coming to rest on his firm buttocks. She squeezed and his hips thrust against her, his hard flesh pressing into the top of her thigh.
When Darcy pulled back from her mouth, he kissed his way down her throat and lower still until he reached one of her breasts and teased his tongue over the stiff peak of her nipple. Shivers raced down her spine and she arched her back, pushing herself closer to his mouth, begging without words for him to lick her again, to take more of it into his mouth. He obeyed, sucking the hard peak, and Elizabeth cried out as flames of lust rolled over her sex. He lavished his attention on one breast, then the other, paying it equal treatment. Elizabeth began to writhe beneath him, her hips lifting up to meet his as if by their own accord.
Moving lower from her sensitive breasts, he kissed his way down her stomach, wetting her overheated skin with his tongue until finally he reached her sex. Elizabeth did not hesitate in offering it to him, parting her legs further to give him more room. For this, she knew what to expect and anticipated it eagerly, nearly flying apart at the first sweep of his tongue. Her ragged breath sounded loud to her ears. The only other sounds in the room were Darcy’s low moans as he tasted her and the creaks from the bed. He licked lower, pushing his tongue inside her again and again, then returning it to the place that produced the most pleasure. Like before, she could feel the urgent build of need and desire in her spine and knew her release was close. She reached down and gripped his hair as she tilted her hips, pushing herself closer to his mouth, demanding more.
“Oh! Yes, do not stop,” she cried.
Darcy growled, but instead of giving her what she needed, he pulled away quickly and returned to her lips once more as he positioned his body between her thighs.
“I am going to take you now,” he said hoarsely.
Elizabeth was so desperate for the release she had been so utterly close to that she nodded, opening her legs wider to welcome him inside.
“Please,” she begged.
Darcy reached a hand between them and grabbed hold of his sex, guiding it to her entrance. He pushed in slowly and Elizabeth gasped, in awe of the thickness and hardness of him. As he went deeper, she felt a small bite of pain and squirmed, her fingers digging into the flesh of his buttocks. Soon he was as deep inside as her body would allow, his hips flushed tight against her own. He kissed her again, rolling his tongue around inside her mouth, making her forget about everything but the way their bodies were connected. Propriety had no meaning anymore. Nothing mattered but the two of them and the pleasure they could bestow upon each other. There was an urgency to his kiss as though he were starving for air and she was the only one who could provide it.
When he pulled his hips back, they both groaned at the sensations it caused. He moved in and out of her slowly at first, but it soon became evident they needed more. She drove her hips up to meet his thrusts, her body acting as if by instinct alone, reaching for something, for the release she knew was in his power to provide. He plunged into her harder, deeper as he sucked at the hollow above her collarbone, all the while murmuring sweet, sensual words about how good she felt, how beautiful she was.
All too soon, that thrill which she had been earlier denied came rushing forth until it broke the surface of her need. The rapture she felt as her release barrelled through her was unparalleled. Somewhere through her pleasure, Elizabeth was aware of Darcy’s harsh curse above her. He quickly slid out of her body and let out a loud grunt, his manhood emptying its seed, painting long, delicate lines over her stomach. When they both stopped shuddering, Darcy collapsed on top of her, his breath hot and heavy in her ear. They lay together for long moments, wrapped in each other’s embrace.
The reality of the situation came crashing back and they both, reluctantly, it seemed, moved from the bed. Elizabeth used a cloth to wipe his seed from her stomach and below. She was a little sore and the spot of blood on the cloth made her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Are you well?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth nodded, her reply barely more than a whisper. “Yes, quite well.”
Darcy placed a soft kiss on her forehead before reaching for his clothing. They spoke little as they dressed themselves. When they returned to the drawing room and took seats opposite one another, Elizabeth had no idea what to say. Though what they had done together had been wonderful, perfect in fact, Elizabeth could not help but feel a little ashamed of her actions and the impropriety of them. Darcy appeared equally as uneasy.
At the very moment when Elizabeth felt calm enough to meet his gaze, the front door opened. Elizabeth gasped and looked to Darcy, surprised and shocked by her friend’s sudden arrival. They had only just returned from her chamber and could so easily have been caught together. Elizabeth could not begin to imagine what would happen if they had been discovered. The gentleman appeared to experience some change of feeling and drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a colder voice, “Are you pleased with Kent?”
Elizabeth nodded absently and a short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise—and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte and her sister, just returned from her walk. The tête-à-tête surprised them. Mr Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to anybody, went away. Elizabeth was relieved when Darcy finally took his leave, for she could barely lift her eyes to look at him, so intense was her discomfiture. She hated that his cold and aloof manner had returned and contemplated the meaning of it. Was he simply as unnerved by Charlotte’s sudden appearance as she or was there some deeper meaning? Did he regret what they had done? But then Elizabeth remembered how her own behaviour had changed—how awkward she, too, had been under the circumstances—and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear, Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called us in this familiar way.”
Though when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, even to Charlotte’s wishes, to be the case. She might have understood better if she knew what had actually happened between them, but Elizabeth could never utter such a thing even if she had a desire to and to Charlotte of all people. Despite being now married, she was as innocent and puritanical a woman as Elizabeth had ever met and would never understand. No lady would. Elizabeth could barely understand her actions herself. She had been careless and rash. She should never have consented. But when she remembered the earth-shattering release and the way he had felt moving inside her, she could not be overly sorry for it.
After various conjectures, Charlotte could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot always be within doors, and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the plea
santness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended him still more. Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in being with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of her former favourite George Wickham, and though, in comparing them, she saw there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners, she believed he might have the best informed mind.
But why Mr Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips, and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice—a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. Elizabeth wondered if he kept calling to apologise to her and to speak of his regret, but they were never alone together, so he did not get the chance, if that was his true desire. He seldom appeared really animated. Mrs Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her. As she would liked to have believed this change the effect of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself seriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford, but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.
She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea. Mrs Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of raising expectations which might only end in disappointment, for in her opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend’s dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.