by Enid Wilson
When she began to pant and squirm hungrily again, he resumed his movements in her. He raised and lowered his body, slowly at first, coaxing until she reciprocated the same actions. He thrust and she squeezed. He withdrew and she raised her hips. Their intimate slow dance turned into quick steps very soon. He pounded into her, impaling her, with the eagerness of a thirsty man who has travelled across the desert without water and finally found the oasis. He drank in her scent, her juice and her essence with every frenetic thrust of his shaft.
But Darcy stopped as she neared the peak, and allowed her to slide back to a calmer plateau. Then he repeated the journey and brought her to the brink again. Her nails dug into his back as he lifted her up and down, raging through the valleys and mountains of sexual exploration again and again.
It felt as if the journey took ages. Elizabeth was at the sixth or seventh near-peak when she took control, tracing her fingertips along his spine and down into the crease of his butt, thus pushing him over the edge. She rode him, pulsing and shivering, and reached her peak at last.
They convulsed and vibrated in unison, crying aloud in ecstasy as he spilled his boiling seed into her, sealing their love.
***
Once Dragon Darcy was freed of the curse, there was no holding him back. He retained his intelligence and integrated into modern society with Elizabeth’s help. Elizabeth, in her turn, found that she didn’t want him to be her pet or servant. They soon married, and he joined the galaxy army, as well. Within two short years, husband and wife reached the rank of General together.
Lieutenant Colonel Caroline Bingley had tried to discover where Elizabeth met her magnificent husband. But she never uncovered the truth, beyond the simple fact that they had met during the galaxy Christmas bargain sales.
After several failed attempts to seduce Darcy, which resulted in her being humiliated by the silent treatment of the couple, she finally gave up. She lived alone, accompanied only by her pet dragon robot Wickham. She lamented, after all, that she had not really found so fine a bargain as had that annoying Eliza.
Modern
Three Inches
What if Mr. Darcy had an odd friend?
Looking through window at the pristine snow, Elizabeth Bennet gave a deep sigh. The tranquility of the natural scenery didn’t ease her mind. It was her fifth day of work at Pemberley Ski Resort, near Wilder Kaiser in Austria. She knew she shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t make herself to leave. After all, what was the chance of her meeting him ever again, even though this was one of his most famous business ventures?
She thought about their roller coaster “relationship”. Did we actually have a relationship? she asked herself.
William Darcy and she had met in a tennis class in Sydney. Staying there to oversee a business merger for a few months, he had taken time out in the evening, joining the local suburban tennis class. The facility and the coach, though not first class, seemed quite professional to Elizabeth.
But she overhead him talking to his friend, Charles Bingley, snickering at the sub-standard coach, the poorly maintained court and the hopeless fellow players – like herself. “She’s tolerable, I suppose,” he said, “but not good enough to play a mixed double with me.” Those had been his exact words. Who did he think he was? Rafael Nadal? Roger Federer?
To her utmost satisfaction, she’d had a great time showing him how good she was, playing a mixed double against him. Wickham and she demolished Caroline Bingley and the arrogant man in a 6-2, 6-1 win. Since then, Darcy had been glaring at her, eavesdropping on her conversations with others all the time.
Besides seeing each other in court, Charles was dating Elizabeth’s sister, Jane, and so Darcy and she saw each other frequently. She soon learned that his sneering attitude extended to her mother and younger sisters. He found them noisy, crude and vulgar.
Offended by his pompous manner, she took every opportunity to taunt and tease him. Busily triumphing over her success at goading him, she was utterly unprepared, one night soon after the match, for his sudden declaration of love and lust.
They were trying to recover a lost ball in the bushes besides the tennis court when he suddenly pressed her against a tree and kissed her senseless. His tongue and hands were like magic, setting her whole body on fire. Forgetting about his conceited behaviour, she responded passionately to his advances.
When they stopped for air, he declared himself to have been madly in love and in lust with her since their first meeting. He asked her back to his place to continue the “mutual groping”. At that, her wit returned, and she lashed out at his arrogance, conceit and haughtiness. She told him that he would be the last man she would shag, especially since learning about his involvement in persuading Bingley to dump Jane, and about his mistreatment of Wickham, his old friend.
In anger, she tried to leave, but he grabbed her arms, wanting to explain. She ended up shoving her knee against his balls, leaving him to cry in pain.
A few days later, however, it was she who was crying, for having misjudged him.
He retreated to London and sent her an email to explain everything: He had talked to Charles and found out what happened. He did ask his friend to cool down the fast romance and make sure of where his heart was. He didn’t know that Charles’s sister Caroline would spread vile lies, persuading Charles that Jane had moved on to a bigger fish.
He also explained his dealings with Wickham, who was involved in drugs, women and gambling. He even provided evidence of how Wickham had schemed money from Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, and broken her young and innocent heart.
A few weeks after Darcy’s explanation, Bingley had returned to Sydney and made up with Jane. Elizabeth also berated herself for listening to Wickham, a mere casual acquaintance she had met at the tennis club, over someone she had grown to know much better over more than a month’s time.
But did she really know Darcy better? How could she not have noticed that he loved her? How could she forget his gaze, his tolerant smile over her teasing, his subtle catering to her wishes when they were together, and his occasional brushing of his hand over her arms, her fingers, her back? Looking back, they all made sense now.
She regretted not staying to hear him out and to resolve her misunderstanding. She was sorry for hurting him, both physically and mentally. He had confessed that he had been an awkward teenager, and that he hadn’t expected to grow tongue-tied and feel a lack of confidence again when he fell in love with her. He was sorry to have forced his passion on her, and he understood why she found him lacking...
Elizabeth found that she could read his anger, sadness, love and resignation in his email.
Did she regret him? Certainly he was smart, tall and sizzling hot. But those were simply external attributes. Could she truly fall for a stuck-up snob who looked down on everyone?
As a result of those questions and uncertainties, she had never replied to his email. But now, up on the mountain, she was finally receiving her answer.
Darcy was no snob. He had been a caring brother and compassionate soul to everyone at Pemberley Ski Resort and in the surrounding little villages.
He had come here in his early twenties, and had happened upon a devastating avalanche. Several villages were covered by the snow, with lives lost and businesses destroyed. He helped Mrs. Reynolds, who lost her entire family in the accident, to rebuild her home. He donated a great deal of money and devoted many weeks each year to helping the community. He opened his resort here as a means of regenerating growth in the area. And he did it right. The place was prosperous and full of happy laughter now, and nearly everyone Elizabeth met had a glowing story to tell about Mr. Darcy.
She had no chance of seeing him again; indeed, Mrs. Reynolds said that he was not expected at the Resort for the remainder of the winter. Isolated from him, however, Elizabeth understood for the first time that she might actually have been attracted to him, right from the beginning. That would explain her indignation over his slight, as well as her constant atte
mpts to tease him in an attempt to spark a reaction from him. It also explained why she liked being with him, and why she had kissed him back so passionately.
She sighed again, then decided to earn her keep by opening the letters that had just been delivered by the postman: bills, junk mail, bookings and more bills. None of it interested her…until she came upon a pink envelope with a card inside, addressed to Mr. William Darcy and marked ‘private.’
Tomorrow would be Valentine’s Day. Could this be a Valentine’s card from his present girl friend? Did he have a lover now? Why had it been sent here?
Elizabeth racked her brain, thinking hard. She had been feasting on gossip magazines since she arrived, but she hadn’t seen any recent photos of him with any women.
“Private, but not personal. I’m the secretary here…” she murmured. Curiosity was killing her. After a few minutes of deliberation, she decided to open the card.
It was a cheap, bland Valentine’s card with a red heart on the front. Inside were a few short sentences of nearly illegible writing, marred with many blots:
My dear Darce,
I t’s time of the y ear. Get your 3 inches out and s hag
some girls wit less.
Ig ore their comp ains and en joy yourself!
Your best friend
B
“Shit!” Elizabeth dropped the card and swore, “What did Bingley tell him to do?” She picked up the card and read it again, with growing indignation. “Get your 3 inches out and shag some girls witless? Ignore their complaints and enjoy yourself? What sort of best friend is Bingley? Should I tell Jane about it? Why would any girl want to complain if Darcy shags her? I certainly wouldn’t complain. The man is scorching hot! But hang on! 3 inches! What does he mean, 3 inches? How many centimetres is that?”
Elizabeth scratched her head and wished she had done better in class with mathematics. She hated the imperial system. Luckily, Google was right in front of her. She typed in “length converter” and clicked on the first website.
Three inches = 7.62 centimetres.
She looked at the ruler on her desk, right in front of her eyes. Surely that couldn’t be! Such a hot guy couldn’t be so badly endowed. He was tall, and his hands and feet were big. His shoulders were broad, his biceps strong. She thought back to their tennis lessons. He usually wore loose sport trousers, so there was no way she could tell about…other measurements. Anyway, she had not ogled him. Well…that wasn’t entirely true. She might have ogled him a little bit – his legs and torso. But not there!
I understand why you found me lacking...
She thought back to what he had written in his email. Could it be true? “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Darcy!” she whispered in sympathy.
“What are you sorry about, Elizabeth?” asked a deep voice from behind her, making her jump.
Elizabeth shoved the card into the pocket of her jeans, turned and saw Darcy’s big frame silhouetted in the doorway. He was encased in a thickly layered ski suit, but she could still see his muscular physique, handsome face and soulful eyes.
“I…,” She gasped, then gathered her courage and gave him a bright smile. “I didn’t find you lacking. Will you give me a second chance? You know…for the mutual …groping.”
His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. Taking her hand, he led her out of the office to his room, at the far end of the resort.
While they walked hand in hand, she vowed to show him her love and to make certain that he enjoyed himself, despite of his deficiency.
He led her into his room, pressing her against the door the moment they were inside, not sparing any time to switch on the light. He gave her a sizzling hot kiss, nipping at her upper lip and then thrusting his tongue against hers. It traced an erotic path along her inner muscles, making her blood flow rapidly through her body and pool at her apex.
On and on, he caressed her mouth, pouring his longing from the past few months into the kiss.
His cold hands tore at the buttons on her blouse and her front-clipped bra, winning access to her sumptuous breasts. As his fingers puckered her nipples into hard peaks, his tongue drove even more deeply into her mouth. She felt nearly choked by his violent action.
Grasping his shoulders, she dug her fingers into his back. As if sensing her vulnerability, he slowed the tempo. His hands began to shape, palm, knead and fondle her twin peaks tenderly, while his tongue made love to her mouth slowly.
The fluid of arousal flowed through her, and she felt herself reaching the peak. Shivered violently, she climaxed, still standing with her back to the door. As her legs weakened, she nearly collapsed onto the floor.
Breaking from the kiss, he picked her up and placed her on his bed. His mouth moved quickly, drawing an alluring path from her lips down her throat, then between her deep cleavage and on to her navel.
Then his hands made quick work of her jeans, taking them and the panties off in one go. He marveled at her lush body in front of his eyes. Parting her legs, he lowered his mouth and slid his tongue along her folds, while his thumb rubbed her bud.
Her body bucked under his ministrations, but his strong hands shifted to hold her hips on the bed. With his forceful tongue, he thrust into her wet entrance, invading her hot inner core. She squirmed and moaned aloud, begging him to relieve her suffering.
He was merciless in his attack. He suckled her bud and thrust his tongue in and out, on and on until she screamed out in abandon, reaching her second orgasm.
In its aftermath, Elizabeth was in a haze as she noticed him stripping off his thick ski suit. Before she could see his body properly, he settled between her parted legs. She wrapped her hands around his neck, gazed at him and said, with a firm voice, “William, I love you, no matter what. Make me yours.”
He returned her gaze and replied, “I love you, too, Elizabeth.” Then he nudged her legs even further apart and thrust into her.
OMG, he was so big and thick! She nearly blurted out the words.
Even though she was fully aroused and wet to the core, she found her muscles stretched to the limited. She panted heavily as he pushed more and more into her. Every cell in her body was torched by his hot, hard shaft. His hands moved to her breasts again, squeezing them hard as she panted in response.
She instinctively raised her body and wrapped her legs around his waist to accommodate his invasion. With a sudden swift thrust of his body, he pushed right to the hilt, grazing the entrance to her womb with his tip.
Elizabeth’s eyes rolled back, and she believed she was in heaven again. Then he began to move. He pulled away, right to her entrance, then rammed into her hard, pounded into her again and again. The sound from the encounter of their sweaty bodies, their moans and their cries, created a kind of sexually charged music in the room. To her astonishment, she realized that she could reach that higher paradise again. After endless minutes of ardent thrusting, he finally drove into her with such a mighty surge that his tip fitted itself against her very core. At that, she cried out in ecstasy and reached her third peak, trembling and convulsing on and on, until she squeezed him so hard with her inner muscles that he shouted out in bliss. He shivered, poured his essence into her and collapsed on top of her.
When they finally returned to earth, he rolled away from her, then pulled her to lie on top of him. He switched on the bedside lamp, wanting to devour her lovely body with his eyes.
Her eyelids felt heavy but her gaze suddenly snagged on the sight of her jeans on the floor…and the pink envelop spilling out of the pocket.
Bewildered, she raised her head, took a look at his relaxed body, and asked him in wonder, “William, why did Charles send you a Valentine’s card?”
He looked at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“He said you only had 3 inches! But you’re huge!” Then, embarrassed at discussing his size, she blushed and covered her cheeks with her hand.
“Oh. That,” Darcy said as understanding dawned on him.
“I felt sorry
for your...” Words failed her, and she raised her little finger to show him what she meant.
“You asked me to make love to you because you felt sorry about my …?”
“No. I would have made love to you, no matter what. I love you.” She lowered her head and kissed away his concerns.
When they stopped for air, he said, “The card wasn’t from Bingley. It was Billy who wrote it.”
“My cousin Mr. Collins? Why would he send you such a strange card?”
“I knew him in my teens. One year, he came to the Hunsford camp with my aunt. It was around Valentine’s Day. He made out with a girl, one night. The next day, when we were both in the toilet, we overheard the girl outside, laughing about his size with some of her friends.”
“Oh dear.”
“Oh dear, indeed. He took a look at me and burst into tears, lamenting his small size. I comforted him, telling him that size didn’t truly matter. I assured him that he would find someone who loved him for what he was. Since then, he has counted me as his best friend. He sends me a Valentine’s card every year. He said we should encourage each other, in such a lonely time.”
Elizabeth frowned. “But he said ‘take your 3 inches out and shag some girls witless.’ He was joking?”
Darcy’s face turned bright red. “He said, back then, that I looked to be 9 inches. But you’ve seen his writing. He must have blotted the 9 into looking like a 3. I’ve received similar cards from him, in the past, each messier than the last.”
“9 inches? That’s nearly 23 centimetres,” she murmured, and glanced at his lower body.
Their talk had clearly aroused him, for his manhood was standing tall and proud. Elizabeth stretched her small hand out, as if to measure it.
Darcy would have none of that and smacked her hand away. “If you want to measure it, I know a much better method.”