by Delaney Jane
She moaned in answer, reaching between her legs. He smacked her hand away and used his fingers on her, rubbing her clit so hard and fast she buckled against him. Had it not been for him holding her, she would have collapsed.
Fitzwilliam’s hands found her breasts, kneading them. He swore, his body tightening, his cock swelling inside her. She braced for the feel of him filling her, but Darcy lifted her from him, pulling her to the end of the bed, where she knelt. He pushed her head toward Fitzwilliam’s pulsing cock, and she took him in her mouth, bringing him to climax.
He grunted and held her head. She swallowed what he gave her, relishing the warm gush in her mouth. Darcy pulled his cock from her ass and plunged into her cunt, reaching that place deep inside, stroking her where she didn’t need her clit touched.
With Fitzwilliam coming into her mouth and Darcy driving into her, hard, over and over, she lost it. Over the edge and into a darkness bursting with stars. And then Darcy growled, his fingers digging into her hips, slamming into her, his cock throbbing as he spilled his seed into her womb.
She came down slowly, as though drugged. Darcy’s movements stilled, his cock still hard, but Fitzwilliam was spent.
Two men had just fucked her, yet she felt claimed by only one of them.
Darcy pulled from inside her gently. She released Fitzwilliam and stood. For a moment, while Fitzwilliam left to clean himself, Lizzy and Darcy stood together, breathless and sweaty.
She looked up at him, his dark eyes on her, hot and cold, searching and detached. He leaned toward her, hesitating a moment before pressing his lips against her cheek, the gesture so tender it nearly broke her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “I had meant to let him have you, leave you alone. But…” He shook his head. “Goodbye, Miss Bennet.”
He picked up his clothing and left, his gloriously naked body slipping into the darkened hallway without a sound.
Fitzwilliam returned from the small washroom. “Has Darcy left?”
“He has.” Lizzy bowed her head, hiding the burning in her eyes.
Chapter Twenty
A Walk in the Park
The letter had come a week after Lydia left with her new husband. Jane still felt as though the whole affair could have been avoided if she had just spoken up about Wickham’s past. She and Lizzy had spoken at length about it. If they had just told their father, perhaps he wouldn’t have let Lydia go to Brighton. But then, they hadn’t known then.
Perhaps, it was just meant to be.
And this was her thinking when the letter arrived. It had come for her father, and after reading it, he handed it over to Jane without a word.
She’d read the letter and shown her mother and sisters as well, trying very hard to school her features in a look of mild interest, while inside she was a raging storm of emotions.
Only when she took a moment alone, in her bedroom did she allow herself to let down the mask and really freak out.
Charles was coming. He was going to stay at Netherfield.
Oh, that Caroline… She had told Jane Charles would never return to Netherfield. Was he only coming back to see to the sale of it? The letter stated he would be staying there, and he wanted to call on the Bennets if Mr. Bennet was all right with that.
Her father had taken her aside, before she’d made it upstairs, and asked if she would be opposed to the man coming for call on them.
She relaxed her face into unconcern. “Of course, not, Papa. He may do as he wishes.”
He’d eyed her, reading her face, but she had learned from him how to hide her feelings, and finally he nodded, letting her go.
And then he arrived.
Jane had dressed for dinner the next night in the simplest dress she could find. She would not dress up for a man who was promised to another. If what Caroline said was true, he was destined to marry Miss Darcy. And what a pair they would make, if Mr. Darcy was any indication, then Miss Darcy was surely to be beautiful.
It was warm, the scent of baking bread and a cooling hot breeze in the air. While the rest of her family waited in the parlor closest to the door, watching for the arrival of Mr. Bingley, Jane chose to wait out back, where she could gaze out over the fields, watch the horses trot around their paddocks. Out here, she could gather her wits.
He was not coming for her. She had to keep telling herself this, or else she might truly lose her composure.
If he really loved her, he would have written to her, come to see her when she was in London, gotten in touch when the whole debacle with Lydia happened.
But he hadn’t.
And, honestly, why would he want her now that Lydia had gone and soured their family name? It may have been saved due to some quick thinking on her uncle’s part, but their name would still always be looked down on for this incident.
No man of good position in life would want to tie himself to her family.
The commotion inside alerted her to the arrival. She stood, her heart racing, and went in. Her mother was all aflutter, chiding her for having disappeared when she should have been waiting for him by the front door.
Mr. Bingley was in the parlor with his sisters and Mr. Bennet, and with him were Mr. Darcy and, as she was introduced, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Jane smiled and curtseyed and only when she had to, did she meet Charles’s gaze.
Her knees buckled. She grabbed the back of a chair, feigning polite interest, but her stomach took a mighty lurch when those blue eyes found hers.
They said nothing, only stared at one another. She could feel everyone waiting with bated breath, and she would not give them any sort of show.
Finally Mrs. Bennet allowed them all into the dining room for dinner. Charles sat next to Jane, Darcy close by. They enjoyed a chilled summer soup, and Charles asked Jane about her stay in London.
“It was lovely, thank you.”
He had only taken a bite of his soup. “I was in London at the time as well.”
“Yes, I heard. I saw your sisters.”
He made a face then, something close to anger, but it was gone in a moment. “Caroline told me she saw you. She said your aunt had found you a possible husband.”
Jane nearly choked on her food. But she managed to set down her spoon and meet his gaze. He smiled, though it wobbled slightly.
“She did not tell me this until I informed her I would be coming here.”
Jane was barely able to keep the anger from making her hands shake. He seemed to take notice, for Charles turned his attention to his soup. There were too many eyes and ears at the table, so from them on they spoke only of trivial things.
Once dessert was finished, the tart cleared away, Charles suggested a walk, since it was so nice out. With the others trailing behind, Charles and Jane walked ahead, along the paths that led through the fields.
It was warm, the sky beginning to darken, frogs coming out to sing their songs. Jane thought Charles was walking a bit fast, but she realized his intention when they reached a bend in the path. Once out of sight of the others, he took Jane’s hand, heat singing up her arm from where he touched her, and hurried her along a path that veered into the woods.
He paused at another bend, and listened. Jane did as well, and when they heard the others continue along the original path, they breathed a small sigh.
Now Charles led Jane at a more casual pace, though he still held her hand, and she did not pull from his grasp.
Jane found her words finally. “I don’t know why she told you I was in London for a husband. I never said such a thing. There was no reason for her to even assume that.”
He smiled, giving her a sidelong glance. “Caroline is a selfish woman. When I told her I was coming back to Netherfield, coming to visits the Bennets, she told me I should not waste my time; that you were uninterested. When I said I would go anyway, she told me you were to be married, but I had it on better authority that you were not. So I came.”
“What better authority?”
“Darc
y. He—” Charles took a breath. “He was the reason I left Netherfield last winter. I had gone to London on business, but then he and my sisters followed me. When I tried to go back, he told me that I had better follow my mother’s wishes and find a decent woman to marry. I told him I had found one, and he, somehow convinced me that the right woman was not here.” Charles shook his head. “Darcy can be very convincing, even when he is wrong.”
Jane could hardly breathe. He went on. By now he had entwined their fingers together, holding her hand tightly.
“Caroline was set on my marrying Miss Darcy, but she is so young, and I watched her grow up. She is more a sister than a possible wife. I think Caroline had it in her head that, if I married Georgiana, she would be better able to obtain Darcy as her husband.” He laughed. “But he has already given his heart away.”
Jane would not ask to whom. She was fairly certain her sister had real feelings for Mr. Darcy, and she did not want to hear the name of the woman who would take him from her dear Lizzy.
She mustered up her courage. “Did you not know I was in London this winter?”
A faint stain crept into his cheeks. “I did know, but not until a week before you left. I happened to cross paths with your uncle and he asked if I had seen you. He invited me to call on you anytime before you left, but… I was still under the influence of Darcy, and I was sure you would not want to see me after having ignored you for so long. So I let the week go by, and once I found out you were back here, I spent a few days in the ring with Darcy.”
“The ring?”
“Boxing.”
“Oh.” She took in his lean frame. But not so lean, so noticed standing so close. His jacket fit well, hugging his broad shoulders, the muscles of his arms filling out his sleeves. The idea of him shirtless in a boxing ring, covered in sweat, fighting another man… her face flushed as that sensation pooled between her legs.
But now was not the time for those sorts of thoughts.
“What made you decide to return to Netherfield?”
“Darcy, actually.” He gave her a sheepish grin. They had walked far, the sky a deep shade of purple, stars glittering to life through the trees above. “He confessed something to me, which made me question all he had said to me before about you, and I told him I would not follow his advice a moment longer. He agreed, and offered to return with me.”
He stopped walking in a small clearing, the sky far above, a carved, stone bench off to the side of the path. He sat, pulling Jane down with him.
He hesitated before speaking, his thumb running over her palm.
“I think you would understand when I say that I have been living a life to please others. I have guarded my true feelings in order to appease the will of my mother, my sisters, even Darcy. When I met you last fall, I saw something of myself, the mask, the false smile that fooled everyone. Seeing it in another, it made me brave. And then, you were sleeping in my home, reading my books. You seemed too good to be true.”
She had thought the exact same thing about him. He was handsome, rich, and sweet. How could any man be all three? But Charles was. She laced her fingers with his, edging closer to him.
He took a shaky breath, meeting her gaze in the starlight.
“You are the only person I have ever really let myself be me around. Even if I could only open myself a little, it was more than I had done with anyone in years, if ever. And aside from that, I enjoy your company, your thoughts. I like seeing your shield fall away when you speak with me. If—If you will have me, I wish never to let that go.”
Jane took a sharp breath. “Mr. Bingley…”
“Charles,” he corrected, and then he knelt before her. “Jane Bennet…” He could hardly hear his proposal through the thoughts swirling in her head, but when she said yes, tears leaked from her eyes and she did not care that he saw them.
His smile broke his face, and broke her heart, repaired it, made it swell. He sat beside her again and took her face in his hands. His lips brushed hers gently, a breeze, a lightening strike.
She sighed against his lips, parting hers, her eyes drifting closed. Was this the feeling the books described?
And then he pulled her closer, his tongue sliding past her lips and into her mouth. Jane gasped, gripping his lapels as heat shot between her legs.
But he did not relent. He kissed her harder, pressing deeper, coaxing her tongue into his mouth.
Panting, she obliged, and he groaned, as her tongue slid along his. She clawed at him, needing more, but more what she did not know.
Charles knew, and he kissed along her neck, the hollow at her shoulder. She gasped, clinging to him, her pants becoming moans she did not know she was capable of making. He dipped his head lower, kissing the tops of her breasts, the heat between her legs becoming an inferno. And then he nudged her dress lower, exposing her nipple to the warm night air.
She froze, watching him as his tongue flashed out, flicking her nipple. She bucked, arching toward him. He licked her nipple again, this time lavishing it until it glistened.
Wild with need, she pressed closer to him, pulling him to her breast for more. He smiled, glancing up at her, and though she would have normally hidden her reaction from him, she did not care that he saw how much she wanted him. She wanted him to see her for who she truly was, and to see him.
He latched onto her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth. She cried out at the sensation, the desperate pull between her legs.
She reached down, touching herself and jerking at the violent way her body reacted.
He kissed her jaw, her lips, and then he met her gaze. “Shall I show you what drives those books?”
Sucking in tiny gasps, Jane nodded, clinging to Charles. He took her from behind the knees and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. She felt completely exposed and improper. And then he pulled her dress up to her knees.
She grabbed at the hem, stopping him. Gently, Charles took her hands and put them on his shoulders, curling her fingers into his jacket, and then he pulled the dress to her thighs and to her hips.
Warm air ghosted over her exposed sex, and she was shocked to feel how wet it was.
He watched his fingers move over her thighs and between her legs. He trailed his fingertips softly over her flesh, making her shiver.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
She saw the bulge in his pants, hard and long against his breeches, and she reached down and touched him. He jerked at her touch, and pushed his fingers between her folds, touching what the books had called her clit.
She gasped, clutching his shoulders, holding on as he rubbed her.
“You’ve now idea how badly I want to fuck you, Miss Bennet.”
Her hips moved, finding a rhythm with his fingers. She’d read enough to know what he meant, and her face flushed with her desire to have him do just that.
“But I can wait,” he grinned at her moan. “When we are married, I will take you. Until then, this is satisfaction enough.” And he slid his fingers down between her folds, found the opening of her sex, and pushed into her.
Jane’s mouth opened, but no sound came. She arched back as far as she could, wanting him deeper, but he kept his thrusts shallow, his thumb coming up to rub her clit again. She moved her hips closer, pulling him deeper, feeling a barrier he would not cross. He bent his head and sucked at her nipple.
Jane was lost. His thrusting fingers, his flicking thumb, his lips sucking, she could not have held on for another moment when her world exploded.
She screamed, and he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her scream. He kept up until she was bucking and jerking in his lap, unable to let the sensations fade away easily.
She remained in his lap, resting her forehead against his, panting.
When she could speak, she said, “Let us wait before we tell my family. They will only try to steal the joy of it from me.”
He met her eyes, sadness and understanding in his. “We will wait, and then, we will never have to wa
it again.”
He kissed her, and she kissed him back, sucking his tongue into her mouth, earning a groan in response. She was going to enjoy being his wife.
Chapter Twenty-One
Never Again with Another Man
A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!
It was the worst-case scenario. Elizabeth Bennet sat at the dinner table at Longbourn, her family eating and chatting merrily, all watching with adoration as Mr. Bingley and Jane spoke to one another.
That wasn’t the bad part.
No, the bad part was that Elizabeth was sitting at the far end of the table between Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. She hadn’t planned on seeing them so soon after last night when the three of them had been together.
She could still remember the feel of having both of them inside her, of their touches and kisses, both men between her legs…
Her face warmed and she mentally slapped herself. She was in the company of her family, and the men had been nothing but gentlemen the entire dinner. Of course, her mother had been atrocious toward Mr. Darcy; still ignorant to his involvement of Lydia’s hasty marriage to Mr. Wickham and the money it had taken to make it happen. Money Mr. Darcy had provided.
Lizzy hadn’t had the time, or the courage, to speak to Darcy about it, to thank him for saving her family’s name. She had no illusions that the money had been more to keep Wickham satisfied and silent about his past relationship with Mr. Darcy. She assumed that Wickham had said something to him, when Darcy found them, to convince him into giving him what he thought he was owed. It had nothing to do with Lizzy or her family.
But it still helped them, so she would thank him. At some point.
Not tonight, though. Tonight she sat between the two men, both towering over her at the table. She had tried to engage in her family’s conversations, but she was too far down the table, and they were all too self-absorbed to make an effort.