by Delaney Jane
She had made up her mind that it did not matter what Darcy’s story was, she was sure that someone as cold and prideful as he could do such horrible things as had been done to Wickham. Just as she had made up her mind and told Charlotte so, Mr. Darcy, as imposing as ever in his dark suit and wolf’s mask, stopped her in one of the halls and asked that she give him her next free dance.
Too shocked to think clearly, she said yes, and he went away with no more to say.
Elizabeth spent an entire dance fretting and hiding with Charlotte, only to stuff it away and accept Darcy’s hand when he came to claim it.
They took their places in the dance and received many looks of surprise at their dancing together, perhaps even more surprise from the fact that he was dancing with someone other than Miss Bingley.
They began the dance in silence, and she would have left it that way, too angry to speak to him, but her curiosity was strong. Though she could not think how best to broach the subject.
They spoke for a time about the dance, the couples, the costumes. He was not good at small talk, and she was growing irritated. She wanted to know, now, his story of what happened between Mr. Wickham and himself. The opportunity came when he asked if she and her sisters often walked to Meryton.
“We do,” said she. “And when you saw us, we were in middle of making a new acquaintance.”
His features darkened, his lips thinning.
He did not speak for a time and, Elizabeth, dancing among the crowds of fairy tale animals, wished only for some way to bring up the subject once more.
Darcy spoke, granting her wish. “You may have noticed that he has such charms as to make it quite easy for him to make friends. It is another story, however, that he actually keep any.”
“I’ve met quite a few people here who enjoy his company. And while it may seem no great loss, he has been so fortunate as to lose your friendship. Suffer though he may, for the manner in which it was lost.”
He frowned behind his mask, but said not a word. They danced for a time in silence, his hands, once or twice, daringly brushing her hip and her breast as they moved. With each touch she felt her body react, and she grew angrier each time.
“What think you of those books?” asked Darcy at long last.
Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured. She cleared her throat. “I found them interesting.”
His dark eyes found hers. “I had hoped that tonight, later perhaps, we could bring some of those scenarios to life.”
Her traitorous body reacted, and on his next pass, his hand brushing across her breast, Mr. Darcy could feel her hard nipple. He smiled.
“No,” said Elizabeth, heated. “I said I found them interesting, I did not say informative,” she lied.
He stared at her as they danced, and she turned her eyes away, afraid he might see something in them she did not wish him to.
“I have other books, if those were not to your liking.”
“I do not wish to speak of books at a ball, Mr. Darcy. It is far too lively to hold such conversations.”
“Perhaps you wish to speak of other things?”
She breathed out of her nose, containing her irritation while among so many people. “I believe there is much about which I would like to speak with you, but it would be improper to do so now. I suppose I could comment on your lack of friendships being due to your caution.”
He stared down at her. “I am cautious.”
“With good reason, of course?”
“Of course.”
“Perhaps I ought to have taken your lead and been more cautious upon meeting you.”
He cocked his head. “Unless you have come to fear what I’ve done with you when we are alone, you have no reason to feel that way.”
Her cheeks warmed. She glanced around, fearful of the proximity of the other dancers, but none seemed to be paying them any more attention than to note that they were dancing. “The only thing I fear about you, Mr. Darcy, is the coldness with which you treat those who seemingly wrong you.”
“Seemingly? Miss Bennet, I thought your interest in me went no farther than a darkened bedroom. Why are you concerned about my life outside of that? Have you changed your mind in terms of what you want from me? Perhaps you see yourself settled at Pemberley after all?”
She hissed at him to be quiet and lowered her voice when she answered. “I do not wish to know you outside of that, nor do I see myself as the lady of Pemberley, but when your cruelty concerns those I care about—”
“You care about Mr. Wickham?” He slung the words at her, but he left her no time to answer. “Miss Bennet, if you wish to know me better, to know why I have done certain things, to certain people, it will come at a price.”
Elizabeth stared up at him and swallowed. “What price?”
He glared down at her. “A private dance in my apartment,” he whispered as they passed, his lips ghosting over her hair.
The song came to an end, and they drew close for the final move, his eyes burning behind his mask.
Swallowing, Elizabeth gave him the slightest nod.
“When all seems clear,” he said, “I will come for you.”
The final chords played, and the pair parted.
Elizabeth, her stomach full of fluttering, and in need of some comfort, went in search of her eldest sister. She found her happily engaged in conversation with Mr. Bingley. She could not find it in herself to interrupt the happy pair, so she instead went in search of Charlotte.
As she wove through the crowd she felt as though she were being watched. Glancing around, she found him. On the other side of the dance floor, matching her pace, his face hidden by his mask. Darcy prowled among the guests, stalking Elizabeth.
The very hairs on her neck rose. She found a passing waiter and took a glass of white wine. In one swallow, she finished it and took another. It was odd to be feeling so jittery after all of the time she had spent with Darcy already. The atmosphere, the masks, the anger in his eyes at the mention of Wickham – all of it lent to this feeling of anxious excitement.
Elizabeth, not wanting to miss his signal, turned down dances with officers and kind gentlemen. Once, she had to duck her face and hide as Mr. Collins came looking for something, undoubtedly her.
For a time, Elizabeth moved about the room either hiding from Mr. Collins and his attempts to compliment her, her silly younger sisters, and her mother’s loud talk of Jane and Bingley’s coming wedding.
When she seemed to have escaped all of those, she felt his eyes on her, burning into her. She searched the room. Finally, she saw his wolf mask slip around a corner on the far side of the ballroom.
It was his invitation.
Leaving her family to expose themselves as much as possible, which, she began to think, they had planned all along, Elizabeth left the ballroom in search of the wolf.
Though she could hear the music, it was much darker in the halls, and quieter.
Her white swam gown and mask seemed to glow in the darkness, and every shadow appeared to move until she laid eyes there, and then the spot was empty. Her soft shoes clicked against the hard wood. Cool air blew the curtains in and lifted her hair from her neck. She shivered.
The further she got from the ball, the colder it became, and the more fear crept into her bones. She had nothing to fear, not from Darcy. He would never really hurt her, would he? She did not really know him, so she could not know for sure.
She had gone as far as the library when she finally stopped. How could he have gotten so far so fast? All around her was darkness, only the moonlight coming in through the windows to light the place.
“Darcy?” she whispered.
A swish of fabric. A soft sigh. A tap. Not Darcy, though. A window stood open, the breeze blowing the curtain.
She turned for the door, freezing to the spot as a massive shape darted past in the hall outside. Her heart hammered in her chest.
Swallowing, she made herself move, slipping out the door, her eyes glancing to either side and seein
g nothing, and she ran down the hall and back toward the ball, toward warmth and light and her ridiculous family.
She made it to the wide stairs, the ballroom just a little ways farther, but footsteps above her drew her attention. High above, on the second landing, a wolf looked down at her. He disappeared again just as quickly. Elizabeth lifted her dress above her ankles and hurried up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, breathing hard, Elizabeth searched for him. She took one step and then an arm snaked around her waist, a hand clamping over her mouth. His lips at her ear sent shivers down her spine.
“I am not so cruel as you think, Miss Bennet. Before we dance, you should have the truth, lest you continue to think you lay with a monster.”
She swallowed, nodding. His hand at her waist splayed out, his fingers brushing her between her thighs.
“You want to know why I took Wickham’s fortune and rectory?”
Again, she nodded, pressing back against him and feeling his cock hard against her backside.
“He did not have it due to my father’s love. That man loved no one. Wickham had it because I loved him. And, I thought, he loved me. He was to be mine, always, in secret, but mine. But it was all a lie on his part. He did things, he let me do things to him, all because he wanted what I could provide for him financially. But upon receiving the first of many payments in what would have been a lifelong support from myself, Wickham gambled away the money, and when I visited him soon after learning of his debts, I found him with another. It was then I ended my financial support and took the rectory from him.”
Elizabeth could feel his heart beating hard against her back. She took his hand from her mouth and turned her face toward him.
“Oh, Darcy,” she whispered. Leaning toward his lips, their masks bent together, and his stubble scuffed her cheek. Before she could kiss him, though, he pulled away.
He moved away, walking toward his rooms, but he held her hand, pulling her along after him. In his room, all was dark save for the moonlight and several candles around the room. They were several floors above the ball, but she could hear the music faintly.
They stood for a dance, and Darcy pulled her close, his hands on her hips, his thighs meeting hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and strained close to his lips, wanting to taste him.
He prevented her kissing him with turns and spins and dips as they danced. But it was not due to a submissive nature that kept Darcy interested in her, or her in him.
Stepping away from him on the next turn, she reached behind her neck and loosed the ties that held her dress in place. Once loose, her gown fell from her shoulders, pooling at her feet and leaving her in nothing but her mask and stockings and shoes.
Darcy growled his approval and moved toward her. Elizabeth danced away from him, keeping out of reach. She leaned against his bedpost and trailed her fingers over her breasts. Watching his eyes darken behind the mask, she dropped a hand to her curls and slid two fingers against herself.
“Miss Bennet…” He came for her again.
“If you wish to join me, by all means, touch yourself.”
He stopped his advance on her, his mouth twitching into a smile. She delighted as he opened his trousers and pulled his cock free. He was hard and thick and he slid his hand over himself with slow deliberation.
Elizabeth sucked two of her fingers into her mouth, wetting them, and then traced them over her nipples so that they shined in the dim light.
Darcy removed his jacket and shirt, his bare chest wide and muscled. He reached for his mask.
“No,” said she. “Leave it on.”
He growled. “When I get my hands on you…”
“If I let you,” she purred. He cocked his head. “I lied when I said your books were not informative. I learned quite a lot from them.” And she slid her fingers inside herself, lifting a leg onto the bed to gain better access.
His lips parted as he watched her. She moved faster, tweaking her nipples, breathing hard. He came forward, his hard cock strained toward her. She tried to run, to prolong this torture, but he was much faster and stronger. Catching her around the hips, he lifted her and tossed her onto the bed.
Crouching on the bed over her, her trailed his wolf mask up her body, his lips catching her belly, her breast, her jaw, but just as he would have kissed her, he pulled away.
His fingers trailed over her collarbones and down over her breasts, her nipples hard. She shivered when he touched her stomach and lower, his fingers reaching her curls.
She held her breath, waiting for him to slide lower, but he crawled back, crouching at the foot of the bed.
“Roll over,” said he. His voice was clipped, cold, hard. His eyes severe and dark.
She did as he asked, lying on her belly. She couldn’t see Darcy, but she could feel him behind her. His fingers traced over her spine and down to her ass. He cupped a cheek in each hand, pulling them apart.
“Spread your legs.” She did. “Wider.” She lifted her ass into the air, her knees planted on the bed. The warm air on the wetness between her legs made her shiver.
Since she couldn’t see him she didn’t know he had bent down until she felt his mouth on her, his tongue spreading her lips to lick her, and then sliding back up, slipping inside.
She groaned into the blanket, gripping the pillows above her head.
He stayed down there, his tongue plunging in and out, sliding down to her clit, sucking it between his lips, and then back up again. She was teetering on the edge, ready for release, when Darcy slid his fingers deep into her, making her choke on a moan.
He took his time on her, his tongue pressing and flicking and lapping at her, his fingers moving with a deliberate slowness that drove her crazy. She panted, shaking and moaning. She could feel the nose of the wolf mask between her buttocks.
His mouth left her. She felt him leave and turned. He disappeared into his small chamber and came back with one of his long, wooden phalluses, oiling it. She wondered whom it was for, him or her.
“I didn’t tell you to look at me,” he said. She grinned into the bed just as her fingers wrapped around leather straps under his pillow.
His fingers, slick from the oil, slid down her body, over her buttocks, and into her aching cunt.
He moved his finger inside her. He slid the phallus down her spine and between her buttocks, parting her cheeks. As he had done so many times before when they had been alone, he pushed it into her asshole.
She shivered at the cold, hard feel of it inside her. The sound of oil slicking over skin brought her attention around and she watched him guide his cock. He pressed it against her, replacing his fingers with his cock in one swift thrust.
She moaned into the bed.
He moved in and out of her slowly, his hips pressing against her buttocks, pressing the phallus deeper into her each time. She felt a painful crack as he smacked her buttock. Her body tightened in response, around him, around the fake cock. He smacked her again. Once more and she moved with a quickness that startled him, pulling him from inside her, and facing him.
Using his shock against him, she pushed him down and lifted his hands above his head. Just as he seemed to realize what she was doing, she slipped the leather straps over his wrists and tightened them. Straddling him, the phallus still in her ass, she took his cock in her mouth. She sucked at him, gulping him down her throat, cupping his balls in her hand. Licking him from balls to tip, she watched as his cock jumped against her tongue. A bead of clear liquid began to drip, and she lapped at it, swallowing him again.
He hissed, swearing at her and pushing his hips against her mouth.
Finally, as his legs began to shake, she lifted herself over his cock and lowered herself down onto him. She moved on him slowly, filling herself until she could feel him deep in her belly. Licking her fingers, she brought them to her nub and rubbed herself.
He growled watching her, his hands working to free himself from the bindings. She had only a limited amount of time
before he tore free. Elizabeth leaned over him, lavishing his nipple with her tongue. He hissed. She moved up and gave his neck the same treatment. She had reached his jaw, moving toward his lips, when she heard the straps tear.
She screamed, startled as he lifted her and rolled her over, settling down on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows, trapping her under him completely. He moved into her, his hips slamming against her, pushing deeper, filling her.
Lizzy wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. His dark eyes stared down at her through the mask, but she was done with this game. Reaching up, Elizabeth took off his mask and her own, tossing them from the bed.
So close she could feel his breath on her lips, Lizzy did the only thing she had wanted to do since she met him, but never let herself attempt until tonight. Lifting her head, she kissed him.
She felt the warm softness of his lips, and he faltered at the touch. And then she pressed her mouth harder against his, urging his lips open. He did as she bid, and she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He groaned his pleasure and moved faster against her.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him, his lips, his neck, his ear. Reaching down, he smacked her buttock, the resounding crack loud in the small chamber, and then he slid his hand between them, plucking and rubbing her throbbing nub.
She kissed him again, and he smacked her ass once more, harder, making her cry out. Each time she kissed him, he smacked her, until finally he gripped her hair, slamming into her, and he kissed her.
He was growing harder and hotter inside her, whispering words into her mouth that she could not understand. Not until he grunted and thrust into one last time, pressing deep into her, did she hear what he had been saying.
“My Elizabeth.” His words filled the room, as he filled her with his hot seed. Her own orgasm was only beginning as he pulled himself from her and slid down her body. His mouth was on her, his tongue flicking at her aching clit. He pulled the phallus from her ass and slid it into her cunt, sliding it in and out faster and hard, his mouth sucking at her until she had driven her fingers into his hair and screamed as her climax rocked her.