by Delaney Jane
His dark eyes were half closed, a smile ghosting his delicious mouth. “Tell me,” he whispered.
She knew what he wanted to hear, and she smiled. “I am yours.”
He lowered her, pushing a little more of himself into her. This would not do. Lizzy leaned forward, bracing her hands on his shoulders, trying to force herself down, but he was much stronger, and she didn’t budge.
“Show me,” his voice was strained with the effort of holding back.
“Let me fuck you,” she said, her voice deep, wanting, and he groaned, lowering her a little more.
She leaned back, pushing all of her weight on his hands, hoping to make him too tired to keep her from him. His fingers dug into her ass. She trailed her fingers over her nipples, watching him all the time. He growled, his arms letting go finally, and she sank down onto him, his cock pushing deep in her belly.
Lizzy moaned, leaning back farther, bracing her hands on his thighs and rocking her hips. His knuckles pressed her clit, and he moved them back and forth against her so fast that she buckled over him. She threw her head back, fucking him as his hand brought her closer and closer.
Finally stars burst in the bright summer sky, and Elizabeth screamed his name. He drew it out, long after she finished, until she fell over him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and turned her so that she lay beneath him on the grass.
Darcy lay atop Lizzy, growling into her ear as he thrust his cock deep inside her over and over. She held him, her lips against him anywhere she could reach, her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper.
She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered words she had longed to say for months. She told him again and again, until another orgasm stole her breath.
He swelled, slamming into her one final time, and then pressing deep as he came, filling her. She pulled his face to hers, kissing him. She smiled, holding him close.
“I am yours,” she whispered again, her heart singing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A Most Happy End
She looked forward with delight to the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing to wither, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at Pemberley.
It was a strange few days after Darcy asked Elizabeth to marry him. They first had to speak with Mr. Bennet, and while Darcy went in first, Elizabeth stood in the parlor with Jane. She had spoken to her sister the night before about how much she loved Darcy, always had, and she even entrusted her sister to know the truth about her and Darcy’s past for the last year.
Jane had been shocked but she was too kind to say so. Once she realized Lizzy truly loved the man, she hugged her sister tightly.
Mr. Bennet was another matter. Darcy had come out of the office looking shaken, which did not set Lizzy up to feel brave as she met with her beloved father. He wanted to know how this came to be, for, as Lizzy feared, he was thinking that she was only marrying him to advance her station in life.
“Papa,” she said, scolding, “Do you think me so small-minded as to marry for anything less than love?”
He steepled his fingers, pressing the tips to his lips. “I did not think it possible, but as far as I knew, you and this man hated each other.”
Lizzy had taken a breath and launched into a tale of misunderstandings. She, of course, did not divulge to him the intimacy with which she and Darcy were already comfortable. But she did tell him about Darcy paying off Wickham. Mr. Bennet wanted to repay the man, but Lizzy absolutely refused.
It did not take long to convince her father that she really and truly loved Mr. Darcy.
After that there were tears and hugs. When Mrs. Bennet was told, there were screams of joy and tears of happiness that only a mother can have when she is to see two of her daughters leaving her home for happy marriages, in well to do homes no less.
Not that either Lizzy or Jane cared about the state of the homes they were going to. It was the men that they loved.
There was a celebration. The Lucases came, Mrs. Phillips, the Gardiners, and the Collinses. Lydia wrote to Lizzy and sent her congratulations, but said they could not come for Wickham had just begun settling in at Brighton.
Darcy had finally confessed the rest of the truth as to why he’d paid off Wickham. It was the day after he proposed, and she was pestering him questions about it, wanting to know how Wickham had begged for forgiveness, and being disappointed to find that he hadn’t begged at all, but had admitted to knowing about her and Darcy and threatening to expose them.
She raged at the indignity of him, until Darcy pulled her into his arms, silencing her with kisses. He told her that he had only given Wickham so much to protect her.
The warmth flowing through her at that admission had her curling her fingers into his hair and pressing her forehead to his.
He’d done it for her. Not just for her family, but her alone. To protect a reputation he would have ruined.
She knew he loved her, but this was just another solid display.
Still not one for socializing, Darcy put on a good front, smiling when he remembered it was polite, thanking everyone for their profuse congratulations, listening and nodding at the endless advice.
Elizabeth smiled through it all, appreciating him all the more for his effort. So much so, that, in a lull in the attention on them, Lizzy took Darcy’s arm and pulled him into the hallway. She put a finger to her lips and led him through the house. They passed the small alcove and went out the door that led to the stables.
They were outside, in the cool, summer night air, hurrying across the grounds of Longbourn. Darcy made no objection as she cut across the fields and headed for Netherfield.
Bingley’s home was quieter, lit cozily, and they snuck in through a back entrance. Darcy took the lead now, pulling her up to the room he used here. Once they were locked away, he pulled her to him and kissed her.
She melted into his arms a moment, savoring the kiss, and then pulled away.
He reached for her, and she backed away smiling. “I didn’t drag all the way out here just to kiss me.”
He cocked his head. Elizabeth glanced toward the secret door behind his bookcase.
A dark look came over Darcy as he came toward her. “We’re not even married yet. Are you sure you want to step into that world?”
She backed away, letting him follow her until she was pressed against the bookcase. When he was standing over her, his arms on either side of her head, she reached for her trousers.
“I told you,” said she. “I am to be your wife. You have my consent. Always.”
“Perhaps,” he said swallowing hard, as her hand slipped into his pants, brushing against the hard length of him. “We should have some code, some word, just in case.”
She smiled up at him, and gripped him in her hand. He groaned, leaning down and kissing her hard.
“If it makes you feel better,” she murmured against his mouth.
His eyes drifted closed as she stroked him. “Tell me the word, and I will open the door.”
She thought about it. What could she say, in the heat of the moment that would stop him should she really and truly want him to stop? She grinned as it came to her.
“I can think of only one thing,” said she, her hand squeezing him, eliciting a hiss. He opened his eyes, dark pools of heat staring down at her. “Catherine.”
He huffed a laugh. “That would surely end my mood.” And he pulled a book away from the shelf. The door clicked, bumped her back, and pushed her toward Darcy. Her breath hitched in her chest as he took her hand and led her through the door.
The room was smaller than she thought, no more than a little study. There were books on the shelves, all erotica, but there were also things she had used with him during her stay at Netherfield all those months ago, and so many other things she had never seen before. There were phalluses; smooth wood, gleaming marble, even soft velvet. Whips, chains, cuffs, clamps, paddles, masks, blindfolds, and more gags than she knew what to do with. All of these lined the walls
in shelves or on hooks. A winged chair and a small table sat beside the empty fireplace.
She turned to find Darcy watching her, watching for her reaction. While her heart hammered in her chest, it was more from excitement than from fear, though there was a good dose of that running through her, too.
Elizabeth smiled up at him, a purr in her voice. “Where do we begin?”
FINIS.
Also by Delaney Jane and Chera Zade
The Mistress of Pemberley
The newlywed Elizabeth Bennet knows little of the ways of married life. She's seen only the bickering nonsense of her parents, or the boring world of her dear friend, Charlotte, and her husband, Mr. Collins.
Yet, when Fitzwilliam takes her to his bed, Elizabeth soon realizes her beloved Mr. Darcy is not entirely the gentleman she believed. He knows how to please her, taking her to new and unimagined heights.
As her days descend into constant lusting for her husband's touch, she soon discovers new desires she'd never imagined, exploring every tawdry whim with her willing and wild husband.
From Lady Carrington's decadent Springtime Ball, to the secret clubs of London's Aristocracy, follow this sordid erotic tale of Elizabeth's journey of discovery and passion, and see just why they call her The Mistress of Pemberley.