Darcy's Undoing

by Delaney Jane

  Darcy’s cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam was with them as well, which was the only reason the dinner wasn’t a complete disaster as far as Lizzy was concerned. Her family watched Bingley dote on Jane, the two of them staring adoringly into each other’s eyes and talking of anything and nothing. Darcy had seated himself far from Lizzy, even though there had been a seat open beside her. When he did not take it, Fitzwilliam sat, smiling, and kept her from staring at Darcy too much during the meal.

  This meant that instead of staring at him throughout the entire meal, she stared for only about half of it.

  Fitzwilliam was a perfectly nice dinner partner. He spoke of what he had been up to since they last saw each other and asked after her. She told him about traveling with the Gardiners and visiting Pemberley. He asked how she liked it, and she told him it was beautiful, which it was.

  After dinner, it was still light enough outside to take a walk, so everyone went save for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and Mary.

  Jane and Bingley walked ahead, meandering through the fields surrounding Longbourn. Lizzy walked with Fitzwilliam who spoke with Kitty, Darcy just in front of them. She would have gone back inside had it not been for a slight chill driving Kitty along the path toward home along with Bingley and Jane. Fitzwilliam smiled at Lizzy.

  “Care to keep walking, Miss Bennet?”

  She smiled up into his handsome face and took his arm. Ahead of them, Darcy continued walking on his own. As the sun fell behind the distant hills, his dark jacket and hair were swallowed with the coming night. When it was only Lizzy and Fitzwilliam on the path, he sighed heavily.

  “Are you all right, Colonel?”

  He bowed his head, his smile sheepish. “Yes and no. I am to be married soon, did you know that?”

  She shook her head, truly surprised. “Is she a pleasant woman?”

  He chuckled. “She is. Very pleasant, actually. From a good family, respectable, the sort who give to charity. My Aunt Catherine chose her for me, saying that a man in my position ought to be married by now.”

  Lizzy frowned. “If you do not wish to marry—“

  “Oh no,” he said, smiling through his interruption. “I do wish to be married, truly I do. It is only that I spent so long as a soldier and then working my way up the ranks, becoming a colonel, I feel as though I missed out on some things. So many men my age have such experience with women. They speak of it in the barracks, but I have no stories to share. Early ones, yes, from my youth, but none since becoming a man, none from being with a woman.” He met her eyes and then he blushed deeply. “Forgive me for speaking in such a manner.”

  “It’s quite all right.”

  He shook his head. “No, it is not. You are spoken for, and not by me. It is not my place to speak to you in this way.”

  She frowned. “Spoken for?”

  His cheeks blushed even darker and he would not meet her eyes. He tried pulling his arm from her grasp, but she held tighter. “Forgive me,” he said again. “I should get you back home.”

  She stopped and forced him to stop as well, though he still wouldn’t look her in the eye. “By whom am I spoken for?” she demanded.

  “I should not have said anything. I only saw… and then when I asked him, he did not actually say you were his, but I assumed.”

  “Colonel,” she nearly growled.

  He sighed and met her eyes finally. “Mr. Darcy. I saw the two of you in the Collins’ parlor when you were at Hunsford. Darcy is not the sort to take just any woman, and you seem so taken with him… I assumed you were his.”

  She did not burn from embarrassment at being caught, as she should have, but she felt a slick heat rush over her body as though she had been caught staring at a naked man. He sensed she was taken with Darcy. Was she so transparent? Did others see it that way?

  She set her jaw. “I am not spoken for, Colonel. I am not his.”

  “But you… you were together.”

  She smiled, slightly, to hide the sour taste in her mouth. “I am a woman of certain tastes,” said she. “And Darcy understands this. But I will not marry him, or anyone else. In fact,” she took a discreet breath, building her courage and stuffing down her better sense. “If you wish to have an experience with another woman before you are married, I would be happy to be that woman.” Her hands shook as she met his eyes.

  Fitzwilliam gaped at her as though seeing her for the first time. He shook his head and stepped back a bit. “I couldn’t.”

  By now she felt something akin to determination welling up inside of her. Wickham was right; she would never be Darcy’s. She had to let him go, but this was a part of her that she did not want to let go. She wouldn’t give this to Wickham, the pig, but she would give it to someone like Fitzwilliam.

  Stepping closer, she pressed hand against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath his jacket. “Do you want me?”

  His breath left him as though he’d been punched, desire burning in his eyes. “Darcy would not like it,” he whispered.

  Lizzy felt him before she heard him, walking up behind her, his warmth and smell engulfing her just as Fitzwilliam looked up, eyes wide like a deer caught in the sights of a predator.

  “As the lady said,” Darcy’s deep voice curled into Lizzy. “She is not mine. If you want her, let her take you. I can assure you it will be worth your time.”

  She thanked God that her back was to him, and Fitzwilliam’s eyes were still on his cousin, as her face burned.

  “Well I… I, um…” Fitzwilliam gave her a questioning look.

  She smiled at him reassuringly. “As I said…”

  Fitzwilliam smiled like a silly fool, his cheeks blossoming into twin roses, and took the hand she extended.

  She turned then and found herself in the shadow of Mr. Darcy. He stood too close. She had to crane her neck to look at him, and when she did, her stomach dropped from the intensity in his eyes. But more than that, there was a challenge in those dark eyes, as if he were daring her to go through with this.

  Well, she wasn’t one to back down from a dare.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said and gave him a slight nod. He held her gaze a moment longer, and then stepped aside, letting them pass.

  “We’re closer to Netherfield at this point,” he drawled. She stopped and turned. He stood where she had left him, watching her and Fitzwilliam. He jerked his head at a path. “Fifteen minutes that way and you’ll be in Netherfield Park.”

  Fitzwilliam smiled. “My room—we could use my room there. And not have, uh, so many people in the house.” His cheeks darkened.

  Lizzy smiled up at him. “I’m known for taking long walks at night. No one will wait up for me.” She spoke to Fitzwilliam, but glanced at Darcy. His dark eyes on her made her shiver. He did not move as the two of them headed along the path.

  Her heart raced until they had rounded the corner and were heading through trees fragrant with the coming spring.

  This was happening, she thought, it was really happening. And Darcy knew it, encouraged it, dared her to do it. No, she was not his, and this just drove that truth home.

  Netherfield was lit up like a beacon. The pair rounded the park to a back entrance and slipped upstairs. They saw no one as they made their way to a room on the second floor. Once inside, Fitzwilliam closed the door. It was a pleasantly decorated room, plain and cozy, a guest suite.

  Fitzwilliam lit a lantern, the fire crackling merrily before they had arrived. He came to stand before her.

  As she looked up at him, she was struck by the sadness she felt that it was not into Darcy’s face that she was looking.

  “All right,” said she. “I’m the last woman you’ll have before your wife. What do you wish to do with me?”

  “I—“

  “No, don’t tell me. Just do it.”

  He took her shoulders, pulling her close. He looked into her eyes a moment, and when she nodded, he pressed his lips to hers. He was a very good kisser once he let himself go. Whomever he was marrying was a lucky woman i
ndeed.

  He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She returned the kiss, giving him time to respond. He fumbled with her dress.

  Pushing aside the disappointment that if this had been Darcy he would have just ripped the thing open, Lizzy shimmied out of her dress, kicking it aside with her shoes and stood before him in her shift. He looked her over, his fingers twining into her hair and pulling it from its pins so that her hair fell around her shoulders.

  He kissed her again, a hand finding her breast and kneading it. He was sweet, gentle, curious. She felt the stirrings of a reaction, but at this rate she would be bone dry when he attempted to take her. This was not what she liked, but she could not expect a man like Colonel Fitzwilliam to take her in the manner with which she preferred. No, that was for men like Darcy, a man who liked it the same way she did.

  Still, she had invited Fitzwilliam to do with her as he pleased. She could not take that from him now, nor could she turn from this. This was what she wanted; to let go of Darcy the only way she knew how. What kind of life was she to expect if she could not even enjoy a man like Fitzwilliam?

  “Perhaps,” said she between kisses, “You would like to try something different? Your new wife may be a virgin, but I assure you, I am not.”

  He pulled back slightly, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  She really didn’t like having to tell him. But then the door to his room opened and there stood Darcy, filling the doorway, his eyes burning her where she stood.

  “She means,” said Darcy, coming into the room and closing the door. Fitzwilliam had frozen as well. “You need not be so gentle with her.”

  The Colonel turned to her looking shocked. “I couldn’t.”

  “By all means, cousin, it is what she prefers.” He closed the space between them and reached for her. She flinched. For this first time unsure of what he might do to her. Taking hold of her shift in both hands, he wrenched until the fabric tore. The mangled shift fell at her feet, leaving her naked before the men.

  Her heart hammered, and that stirring between her legs had become so much more.

  “You can tie her up and do whatever you want with her,” said Darcy, a hand at her neck, running his thumb along her throat.

  “No,” choked Fitzwilliam. “I don’t need to tie her up. I just—I don’t…”

  Darcy stared into Lizzy’s eyes as he spoke to his cousin. “Shall I stay? Like when we were young.”

  She felt Fitzwilliam relax. “I—“ He glanced at her. “As long as Miss Bennet is all right with it.”

  Darcy’s mouth quirked into a quick smile. “Are you all right with that, Miss Bennet?”

  There it was, that dare in his eyes again. She should tell him no, send him out of the room and give herself completely to another, show him she was not his to do with as he pleased. But, her traitorous mouth parted and she said, “Yes.”

  Fire flashed in Darcy’s eyes. “Sit down, Fitz. Miss Bennet is quite talented with her mouth.”

  This was all wrong. Everything he said, did, the way he moved, the way he watched her, it made her hot and breathless. He would not be in control.

  She turned from him, putting space between them and knelt at Fitzwilliam’s feet. She put her hands on his thighs, easing him down into a chair. His legs shook slightly as he sat, and she undid his belt, opening his trousers. He was hard and thick, ready for her.

  He gasped when she took hold of him. Darcy wasn’t touching her, nor could she see him. But she could feel him behind her, watching her. That thought alone turned her on. She felt the wetness between her legs, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

  With a sultry smile at Fitzwilliam, she took him in her mouth. In the same moment, she felt Darcy kneel behind her, his hand coming up the inside of her thighs, his fingers sliding into her as easily as if he had molded her from clay.

  She moaned onto Fitzwilliam’s cock, sucking harder. He gripped the arms of the chair, watching her mouth move on him.

  It was the oddest and most tantalizing sensation ever; having her mouth on one man and her body violated by another; violated in the most delicious way. She wanted to be angry with him, for barging in on them, for knowing her too well. For her wanting him. He was not good for her, why couldn’t she let him go?

  She felt his lips on her back, kissing her spine, his tongue teasing the dimples over her buttocks, his teeth as he nipped at her hip. And then he parted her buttocks, and she felt his face between her legs, his mouth on her, and she arched her back, her movements on Fitzwilliam becoming more urgent. He was bucking slightly now, his hips coming up to meet her mouth as she took him deep in her throat.

  If she kept this up, he would come in her mouth, never having been inside her, but that was the whole point of this; to have another man take her, to have another man in the part of her that only Darcy had been.

  A place where Darcy was now, his tongue doing wicked things to her.

  Fitzwilliam made little whimpering sounds, and she knew it was time. Straightening, reluctantly pulling her body away from Darcy, she stood, ready to settle herself on Fitzwilliam’s lap and take him, let him take her. But a strong arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her, and she was carried to the bed and tossed upon it.

  Darcy stood over her, his glare something to fear. But she knew him and that glare did not frighten her. It aroused her.

  “Come, cousin,” he said, and Fitzwilliam stood beside him. Without a word the men undressed. It was like a choreographed dance, as if they had done this before, and then she remembered Darcy offering to stay, like when they were young. Looking up at the men who looked so much alike and nothing at all, she felt a thrill go through her.

  Both large men, the bed sank as they crawled up toward her, lying between her thighs, a leg over each of their shoulders, spreading her legs wide.

  Fitzwilliam bowed his head; his mouth finding her, tentative, shy, soft kisses and fluttering flicks of his tongue. She moved her hips encouragingly; enjoying the slow build while it lasted. He tasted and explored, his tongue moving through her folds, sucking them into her mouth gently; it made her toes curl.

  She closed her eyes, trailing her fingers over her breasts, teasing the nipples into hard peaks. While Fitzwilliam explored at his leisure, Darcy’s warm fingers kneaded her buttocks, his lips grazing the inside of her thigh. She wouldn’t look at him, but she felt him, all around her, that was impossible to ignore.

  Desire flowed through her, slow and steady like a stream rushing toward a fall. She could get there like this. She didn’t need Darcy to bring her to climax, a fear she’d had before now. It may take some time, and possibly some help from her, but she would get there.

  And then Fitzwilliam lifted his head. She opened her eyes, curious as to what he might try next, but in that moment, Darcy caught her eye and slammed his mouth against her.

  He devoured her. She screamed, cutting off the sound quickly. She bucked against his mouth as he feasted, his movements angry, violent. His fingers found her wet and ready, driving into her cunt hard, the resulting sounds deliciously dirty.

  He had only just begun and she felt as though she was going to explode already.

  And then he stopped, abruptly. But Fitzwilliam, encouraged by Darcy’s performance, took up the mantle, taking her with a force he had not yet shown her. It was nothing like Darcy, but it was no longer the sweet, gentle exploration.

  It was still Darcy’s fingers inside her, she knew that, knew how his fingers felt inside her, how he moved to make her tremble. She opened her eyes, shaking and so close to oblivion, and caught him watching her.

  He bit the inside of her thigh. Fitzwilliam moved, and Darcy moved in. They took turns, taking her with their mouths, but all the while it was Darcy’s fingers moving inside her, rubbing her in just the right spot.

  Her climax exploded from her. She pulled a pillow to her face, screaming into it as her body convulsed around Darcy’s fingers, theirs mouths going back and forth too f
ast for her to know who was down there.

  She hadn’t even begun to come down when someone lay beside her and the other pulled her by the legs and lifted her. For a moment she and Darcy were pressed chest to chest, their naked bodies slick with sweat, his cock pressed against her belly. He gazed down at her, the anger gone, and something else there. Desire? Want? Love?

  No. Not love. He did not love her, nor would he ever.

  He moved, turning her to straddle Fitzwilliam. The man’s eyes were glazed, as she lowered herself, taking him into her, filling that sacred space. He was thicker than Darcy, but not as long. Darcy held her from behind, his arms around her waist, his face in her hair, lips trailing over her neck, as she sank down upon Fitzwilliam’s cock.

  She began to move, the tremors of another orgasm shivering through her. Darcy’s hand wrapped around the back of her neck and he pushed her down, flat across Fitzwilliam’s chest. His intention became clear when she heard him spit into his hand, the sound of slick flesh being pumped, and then he pressed his cock against her asshole, the pressure making her gasp. He pushed, ignoring her sharp cry of pain, and then he was inside her as well, both of them filling her completely.

  For a moment none of them spoke or moved, each adjusting to the tighter accommodations. And then Darcy growled, Fitzwilliam took her hips in his hands, grasping them to the point of pain, and moved beneath her, pumping himself up into her. Behind her, Darcy wrapped his hand in her hair, forcing her to arch her neck, her back curved to give him better access, and he fucked her.

  Lizzy gripped the sheets in her fists. It was nearly more than she could take. Nearly.

  Her breath caught and then she gasped as the men found a rhythm, both slamming into her together. Darcy slapped her ass.

  “My God…” gasped Fitzwilliam. He grit his teeth, so close.

  Darcy wrapped his hand around her throat, pulling her back against him, his mouth at her ear.

  “Is this what you want?” he whispered so only she could hear him. “You like this? Being fucked by two men.”