by Sophia Grace
Contents
Nights With Fitzwilliam Darcy Series
Fitzwilliam’s Bed-Chamber
Chapter 1
An Offer of Impropriety
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
His Good Opinion
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Happily Diverted
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Awakened at Pemberley
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Stolen Virtue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
A Love Requited
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
A Journey Unto Love
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Darcy’s Headstrong Girl
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
A Peculiar Regard
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Love By Mistake
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Darcy’s Contrived Betrothal
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
False Presumptions
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
A Different Season
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Author Notes
2. More Sophia Grace Titles
Nights With Fitzwilliam Darcy
A Collection
Sophia Grace
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the late Jane Austen’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Sophia Grace. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact Sophia Grace.
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition January 2019
Nights With Fitzwilliam Darcy Series
Short, spicy standalones!
Fitzwilliam’s Bed-Chamber
An Offer of Impropriety
His Good Opinion
Happily Diverted
Awakened at Pemberley
Stolen Virtue
A Love Requited
A Journey Unto Love
Darcy’s Headstrong Girl
A Peculiar Regard
Love By Mistake
Darcy’s Contrived Betrothal
False Presumptions
A Different Season
Longer stories with the same spice!
Darcy’s Hidden Heir
Posing at Pemberley
Fitzwilliam’s Bed-chamber
A Pride & Prejudice Sensual Retelling
Chapter One
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a just-married couple would look upon the marriage bed with varying degrees of knowledge. Such was the case for our happy couple, Darcy and Elizabeth. One knew more for the simple fact that he was a man, and men were known to talk about things from time to time when necessary. Lizzy, however, knew nothing except for the words shared with her by her mother and her youngest, most silliest sister, Lydia.
Mrs. Bennet, on the morning of the weddings, told both Elizabeth and Jane that it was their duty to pleasure their husband and that nothing else could be done about it. They must acquiesce to the demands of their husbands whenever they fancied. More strangely was the paragraph in the congratulatory letter Lydia sent that spoke of the wedding night as “all in good fun”, even though Elizabeth was sure that her youngest sister had succumbed to forfeiting her purity before her own wedding night.
One spoke of duty, the other spoke of fun. For Elizabeth, she thought she might not take the advice of either her mother or her younger sister very seriously. Neither of them had the type of marriage she so longed for her and her dearest Mr. Darcy. For it was well known that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet didn’t even respect each other let alone love one another while Lydia was too quick to fall into traps of fancy.
Jane and Elizabeth, with nothing to go on as far as the actual events of the wedding night, decidedly agreed to share any tidbits that they could following in a letter as soon as was manageable. With both becoming mistresses of fine houses, neither was sure of time constraints or how soon they might be able to write one another. With that, and all the positive happiness of wedded couples, Elizabeth and Darcy set out for Pemberley as soon as the vows were shared, and Jane and Mr. Bingley to Netherfield soon after.
The Darcys’ journey struck nerves in the pit of Elizabeth’s belly. Sure, she’d seen Pemberley before during the visit to the lake country with her aunt and uncle Gardiner, but it was one thing to be a guest, and another to know that you would be mistress of the whole estate. Then of course, there were some parts of the house that she had not been admitted when just a mere guest. She had not seen any of the family’s private chambers. Mr. Darcy’s was of great interest to her. Even now, with their hands intertwined on the bench between them in the carriage, she felt the heat low in her stomach that had been her dear friend for much of their courtship.
She’d looked forward to days of just her and her husband. She’d spent the last few months interfering and jockeying her soon-to-be betrothed from some of the more vulgar members of her family such as her mother, Aunt Philips, and indeed even Mr. Collins when he and Charlotte traveled from Kent to congratulate the couple. It was tiring business to spare her Darcy and more often than not, she would arrange for a solitary walk so that they might find a corner in the garden to discuss their upcoming marriage life. During those times, it wasn’t uncommon for them to give in to their love and want for one another. Kisses were stolen. Touches were made. Heat had formed between the two. A feeling Elizabeth had never experienced deep in her belly, nay even between her legs, had built that persuaded her that the wedding night would be interesting to say the least.
When they arrived at Pemberley, the most beautiful estate she had ever beheld, Fitzwilliam helped her from the carriage and immediately brought her to freshen up from their long journey. She longed to walk outside, to become acquainted with every aspect of the property, but as the sun was setting and little could be seen at that time anyway, she gave herself over to the servants. Her maid primped and prodded so that when Elizabeth emerged from the room, she felt as if she’d never been so clean in her life.
With her dark hair loose and wild about her shoulders, Elizabeth was shown to a large chamber. The maid shut the door behind her as she strode through the room in only her chemise. The bed was the biggest she’d ever seen which made her laugh. It was three times the size of her own bed at Longbourn and much more grand. She couldn’t help but wonder what all that extra room was needed for. She fingered the fine bedding and then retreated to the window. The view was stunning. The lake in the back saw the setting sun just behind it in a haze of orange glow. The reflection from the water warmed her heart. To think that she would be mistress to such a place! And to such a man as Fitzwilliam Darcy. All her prayers had been answered. She wanted so much to marry for love, and to have done it with her Darcy, she could scarce draw breath from being so happy.
The door to the room
opened and Elizabeth turned. She’d only seen her Darcy informally attired once before when she’d accidentally come upon him here on his grounds. Unlike the previous time, she tamped the color from rising to her cheeks. They were husband and wife now. She hoped she’d find a number of times where she would see him thus clothed. His breeches were on, but gone were his waist cost and cravat—only a shirt remained.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you smile at me like that?” Darcy inquired.
“You injure me, Sir. You know I have been smiling like this since you asked me to become your wife.” She blinked up at him, mesmerizing, as she had been trying to do, all the handsome angles of his face. His wide chest and square shoulders. She counted herself a very lucky woman.
Darcy strode toward her and took her hands in his. “How does it feel, Mrs. Darcy?” He kissed her knuckles one by one. His hands were warm on hers.
Mrs. Darcy. What a wonderful name. The sound of it on his lips was like a spike straight through to her heart. She’d never been more happy in her life. “Say that again.”
He smiled. Dropping her hands, he cupped her face. “Mrs. Darcy.”
“I don’t think I shall ever get tired of that.”
“Then I shall never tire of saying it, my love.” He kissed her forehead and then turned them both toward the window, his hand around her waist. With nothing more than the thin fabric of her chemise around her, his touch scorched her body. She leaned in closer to him and he gripped her tighter. The sky was dark now except for the orange wisps of clouds the sun had left behind. “Are you happy?” he asked.
She turned into him, her breasts grazing his chest. A spark of heat swamped her chest so that when she spoke, she didn’t recognize her own voice. “Indeed. I think I shall fair very well here.”
Fitzwilliam pulled her to him. His eyelids heavy and countenance fierce, he struggled for words. Finally, he said, “Dearest Elizabeth, please permit me to touch you as man and wife. I ache for you. Our flirtations and gentle caresses will not suit me today. I long for more. I want to touch your sweet skin. I want to make you mine.”
With this declaration, his hand moved up her side stopping just below the underside of her breast. Instead of shying away, Elizabeth wanted to move toward it. His touch had left a fire in its wake, igniting unknown desires within her. “I confess I have little knowledge, but I want you to take me as your wife. Touch me. Heart and soul, I am yours, Fitzwilliam.”
His mouth descended on hers. This, she knew. His hot mouth against her willing lips. The familiar feel of her tightening belly. Her Darcy had described it as an ache and she felt it too. She longed for something beyond. Something she knew not what.
A caress against her nipple shocked her. She gasped, instinctively pulling away from the unknown, but in the very next moment, she longed for the feel again. She stepped into him deepening their kiss to a most feverish pitch. His hands moved up her hair and they tangled within its strands. She moved her chest against his, longing for that shocking touch once more. Though it felt good, she was restless, nothing quite compared to the touch before. A single caress against her nipple. She wanted it. She needed it. Her knees trembled with want.
“To the bed,” Darcy ordered. Without hesitating a second, he picked her up and walked toward the luxurious bed. Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh as he laid her down reverently. She was in her marriage bed. She was in Fitzwilliam’s bed, and the low fire in her stomach made her bold.
She untucked his shirt from his breeches and slipped her hands under. Her Darcy’s skin was smooth with sprinklings of wiry hair. He was hard, well-cut muscle, and the further she explored, the more tense her beloveds body became. She looked up at him finally and immediately tore her hands away. His gaze was smoldering. “Have I hurt you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “You are destroying me.” He quickly tore his shirt off so Elizabeth could lay her eyes upon which she had just felt. A sharp intake of breath later and she was reaching for him on the bed. Her hands played over his hard muscles from the cut of his shoulders to the firm planes of his stomach.
“May I?” he asked, fingering the hem of her chemise.
Elizabeth held her breath. She wore nothing under the chemise. If she allowed him to pull it over her head, there would be nothing but her. She squeezed her thighs together, a hot need building there warranted it. Unbeknownst to her, a soft moan had escaped.
Darcy’s eyes rounded and filled with passion. He inched her chemise upward, pulling it over her knees. He moved with it over her, stopping to kiss the skin on her thigh. When Elizabeth jerked, he eyed her curiously. Elizabeth shook her head. “Do not mind me. I am well. Very well,” she said breathless.
He returned to his worshipping of her soft skin. He kissed his way up her leg until the hem of her chemise was at the apex of her thighs. He hesitated then and Elizabeth felt and heard nothing but the rapid beating of her heart and quick succession of her breaths. Finally, Darcy pulled the chemise to her belly button, revealing the treasured sight. “Oh, Elizabeth,” he said, pulling her knees further apart. “I have fallen in love with the most perfect woman.”
The chill air from the room caressed her most private parts. If it weren’t for Darcy holding her knees, she would’ve closed them. Such an intimate sight he was surely gazing upon. Her mind told her about the impropriety of it all while her body longed for more. His hands moved down the inside of her thighs. Heat built and built and when he was just a whisper away from where the inferno rooted itself, she cried out. “Fitzwilliam.” She writhed on the bed, but he held her there.
In the next moment, his finger was on her, stroking. She cried out again, but this time in pleasure, not in fear of what lay ahead. Her hips left the bed to meet his finger. “Oh, lovely Elizabeth. I so hoped you would feel what I feel. Please tell me you want it just as bad as myself. For I fear I have been barely able to contain myself let alone my thoughts during these last months. Many nights have I woken in deep sweats imagining the sight of you. The feel of you.”
Elizabeth could hardly think straight. The foreign touch, the feelings that she had never felt before swirled inside her. To think she had never known such a thing existed.
“Talk to me, Elizabeth,” Darcy said, still stroking her.
Talk at this time? She could scarce breathe. She had started to feel a wetness seep from her. Unsure of whether that was natural, she picked her head up and looked at his touch. The sight drove her mad with want. They locked eyes and Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. Tantalizing, scandalizing. She cared not. She only wanted more. “Please,” Elizabeth said, though she was unsure of what she was begging for, only that this feeling might continue. If this was what her mother meant of doing her duty, she would be happy to. She would be happy to do her duty to Fitzwilliam whenever he wanted and however many times he wanted.
At once, Darcy removed his finger, but she hadn’t time to lament its absence when his hot breath hit her center. She almost came off the bed until his arms were there, pinning her hips down. She peered up again, only to find the top of his head blocking her view. His lips touched her most intimate spot, and she screamed and bucked. Darcy was abhorrent though. He never let up. His lips seized hold of her and suckled. He explored, tasting her as if he were dying of starvation. Every time she thought she couldn’t possibly bear any more, he moved slightly to discover another part of her. Her hips came up to meet his mouth as he kissed her for the last time and then stroked her with his tongue. The gentle slide of his hot, wet tongue from back to front sent Elizabeth into a frenzy. She fought for control, for she never knew her carnal nature until then. “Fitzwilliam, I must… I must…”
With a pleasure so deep it was almost painful, Elizabeth lost herself in the moment. Losing her wits, she grabbed his head and held him at her center, pushing his face against her. Pushing his mouth right where she wanted it the most. Her toes curled under as Darcy’s attentiveness quickened. It was almost too much for her to bear. At le
ast, that was what she thought until his finger once again touched her. His tongue swirled and swirled as his finger stroked until it…it pushed inside her. Heat drenched her as her body tightened around him, seizing his finger and not letting go. Elizabeth felt her body starting to build. It was like running up a cliff only to not wish to stop before running right over. And the closer she got to the top, Darcy’s finger moved inside her with more earnest perfection.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh yes.”
Darcy moaned into her and that was all it took to send her over the precipice. Her insides clenched and unclenched around Fitzwilliam’s finger as he continued to enter her time and time again. She started falling. The flight was torturously slow and wild. With her eyes firmly closed and her body still lost in pleasure, she felt her betrothed move on top of her. Hard flesh lay on her leg. In a haze, she gazed down and for the first time saw what made a man a man. She reached for him and her husband guided her fingers over his hardness. He gripped her hand, showing her how she should touch him. She relished in it. She seized her duties with an attentiveness that she hoped rivaled his. She wanted him to feel the same euphoria she’d just awoken from.