Nights With Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Sophia Grace

  Mr. Darcy’s lips trailed over her chin to her neck. When he kissed behind her ear, she gasped. It was such a sweet, lovely course to have her kissed in such a way. She cupped her hands around his cheeks and smiled at his half-lidded, warm expression. “You have delighted me more than you may ever know,” she said.

  He put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “Miss Elizabeth, I find I cannot control myself around you any longer.” His lips descended upon hers once again and devoured them. He pressed her up against the fence post, expertly maneuvering his knee in between her legs.

  Heat settled low in her stomach at the intimate touch. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, breathless, as his kisses moved down her throat to her collar bone. He kissed a path across her chest, leaving his masculine scent behind. Her senses were overpowered. His touch, his kiss, the smell of him on her skin thrilled her and she lost herself.

  On instinct, she pitched her hips forward and met with Mr. Darcy’s hardness. They both moaned. “Elizabeth,” he said, trailing his hand up her leg, bringing her skirts with him.

  Her heart beat furiously. She was so caught up in his attentions that she did not notice the first drops of rain that had descended upon them. It wasn’t until one landed on her eyelid as she stared up at the darkening sky in awe of Mr. Darcy’s skilled fingers that she broke from the spell.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said, grasping his shoulders as he took the lobe of her ear in his mouth. “It is raining. We are about to be soaked through.”

  He pulled away to look up at the sky as if he did not believe her at first. He found her stare once more with the most earnest, impassioned expression she ever saw. “Do you trust me, Miss Bennet?”

  Trust him? Her mind was studiously against it, but her heart, oh, her heart had other feelings. She nodded, and he pulled her at once toward his horse. Before she could even protest, he picked her up by the waist and saddled her on his spotty white mare. “Grab hold, Elizabeth,” he said, using her Christian name in affectionate earnest. “We have not a moment to lose.”

  The skies overhead turned a rather dark, angry color. The clouds looked as if they would soon open and drench all her worries on her. She grabbed the reins and held on as Darcy led his horse along the tree line of an open field. The rain quickened and soon Elizabeth’s hair was matted to her head as she had also run straight from the house without her bonnet. If it weren’t for Mr. Darcy’s coat, her own dress would be clinging to her wet skin.

  “Where are we going?” Elizabeth asked. She looked toward the East, toward Longbourn and knew she did not wish to go back there, even to save herself from a downpour.

  “Bingley’s hunting cottage. It’s just there.” He pointed ahead and Elizabeth followed his direction. Set just inside the tree line was a well-maintained, small cottage. She knew it. She’d explored it as a child when under the ownership of the previous tenant. The sight of it, and the continued dousing of rain and winds, hurried Mr. Darcy’s pace.

  When they pulled up to the cottage, he helped her down from his horse. His clothes were wet to the touch and she frowned at him, hoping he would not catch a fever on her account.

  Mr. Darcy quickly tied up his horse and led Elizabeth inside. She shook out her skirts and pulled his coat tighter around her as he went straight for the hearth to start a fire.

  He turned once the blaze ignited and stared at her. His countenance switched back and forth from strangled happiness to injury. “I’m sure you think me highly improper. I beg your forgiveness. I found I could not think when I saw you so distressed by the side of the road. I hope I am not too far out of line to implore you to reconsider your engagement to Mr. Collins. You simply cannot marry him, Elizabeth.”

  Lizzy blinked. She inched toward him under the pretense of needing to warm herself by the fire. Quietly, she hung his coat next to the fireplace and faced him. The fire warmed her back though her front was already heated with embarrassment. “And I must beg your forgiveness, Sir, for my own conduct. If I am to be attached to him, I found that…that feeling you embrace me gave me much comfort. I even thought that it would be nice to feel the kiss of a gentleman before I am to be so disadvantageously connected to a man I cannot bring myself to feel anything for except disgust.”

  Mr. Darcy took off his hat, set it on the small table, and strode toward her. “You sought my touch as much as I did yours?”

  His fingers on her chin allowed just the tiniest of nods. “More so, I believe, since I am to not feel anything like it again.”

  The thought of Mr. Collins embracing her as Mr. Darcy had turned her stomach. She tried to look away, but he held her in place. She swallowed. “Thank you for saving me from the rain.”

  Mr. Darcy made a noise low in his throat before his lips were on hers once more. She gave into him, relishing in the moment, imprinting it on her brain to conjure whenever she may need it in the future. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and she gasped before returning the favor. Surely there could be nothing better than this. His hands traveled down to her waist and then up again to cup her bosom.

  A low moan escaped her as he trailed his thumb over the outline of her breast. She shivered under his touch, which only spurred him further. He took off his suit coat and boots. Even his white shirt was plastered to his skin from the rain, allowing Elizabeth an easy gaze at his taught muscles.

  A fire started in her belly, flaming her courage. She stepped toward him and put her hands on his shoulders. She started with his chest, exploring until she was sure she could remember every hard line and dip, then she traveled south to his abdomen, soaking in the ridges of his stomach. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen.

  Mr. Darcy reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head. His skin was bare before her and she couldn’t help the instant flush to her cheeks. She had never been in such an encounter as this.

  His breathing labored as he stared at her. “It is your turn.” He moved behind her and undid the buttons at her back. She helped him pull the dress to the floor and slip out of her shoes. Her petticoat was next. It dropped to the floor. Her stomach knotted as she waited for him to lay eyes on her front. She stood before him in her shift. He reached up and let her hair down. It fell to her shoulders in a wild mess of black.

  He came around and stared at her. Everywhere his gaze landed, her skin sparked and goosebumps spread. He came forward finally and touched her cheek. “You are to be revered, Elizabeth. I am sure nothing he said to you in his address was as much as you deserve. You are a beautiful creature with wit and accomplishments. I beg of you to let me touch you.”

  “Yes,” she said. His heat enveloped her as they embraced. Her nipples grazed his chest and she arched against him, longing for the sensuous touch. His hand explored her back and then dipped to her backside where he cupped her. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him. His hardness settled where her heat had sprung to life. He groaned and tipped his hips forward.

  His hard body rubbed against her and she gave a startled cry. She’d never felt something so deliriously pleasureful in all her life. “Again,” she said. He did and she met him this time, grinding her most private part against his pants.

  “Oh, Elizabeth,” he said, smashing his lips against hers. The kiss was heated in a way their others weren’t. It was impassioned and earnest, they were broth struck with the want—nay, need—for more. Mr. Darcy walked with her to the lone bed in the cottage and laid her down. He pulled his pants off and she gasped at the sight of him.

  “I must possess you,” he said.

  He lay next to her, pulling her shift to her belly button. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Without wasting time, his hands explored her long legs as they ran up her thigh. The closer his touch moved toward her hips, the more frantic for his touch she became. An ache had started between her legs and she knew on instinct that was where he was headed. She let her knees slip apart as he reached her apex. His finger caressed her and she came off the bed with an excited moan
.

  “You are wet with want,” he murmured, his finger stroking her center, all the while he locked eyes with her. She moved with him, enticing him only to touch her more. Deeper he explored and Lizzy threw her head back on the bed as his finger slipped inside her. She cried out as her insides closed around him.

  “Please,” Elizabeth begged.

  He dipped his finger in further and she succumbed to the heady rush of feeling his internal caresses made. He teased her, pulling his finger in and out in a steady rhythm that made Elizabeth sick with want. With every massage, she begged for release. The fire solidified in her core and she felt drops of sweat on her forehead.

  With his other hand, Mr. Darcy pulled her shift down revealing her breasts. Her chest heaved, her nipples pointing toward the ceiling as if calling him. With his gaze still focused on her, he bent over and took one of her nipples in his hot mouth. Elizabeth cried out again and thrust her hips upward, eager for more.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said, as his attentions to her quickened. “Yes.”

  He pulled and kissed her nipple like a man starved with want. His tongue lashed out at it, driving her mad. He quickened his finger strokes, driving her higher and higher. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured into her skin. She tipped her hips just as he pushed inside and her vision blurred. An eruption of all sensible thought blasted through her so there was only pleasure. She called out his name as she rode the feeling away.

  Breathless, Mr. Darcy kneeled between her legs and pushed her knees down. She looked up at him through her lidded eyes. She understood then how respectable women could want to run away. She would give anything to spend her life like this with a respectable man instead of—

  Darcy’s cock pushed at her entrance. He was solid and warm, thicker than his finger, and most definitely longer. He waited as if for her permission which she readily gave. “Please, Mr. Darcy.”

  He closed his eyes and pushed further. With a quiet restraint, he pushed deeper into her with every stroke. There was only a moment of pain on Elizabeth’s part until he was finally snug inside her, sheathed to the hilt. He stared down at her fondly and moved her wet hair from her forehead. “Call me Fitzwilliam,” he implored. “Please, while we play out our fantasies I wish to be your Fitzwilliam.”

  She sighed at the thought. Her Fitzwilliam? She adored the sound of that. “Fitzwilliam,” she said, cupping his face. “Possess me. Please.”

  He shifted his hips and Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Such an obscene amount of pleasure had never been felt before. Fitzwilliam was inside her. His strokes were long and languid as she succumbed to him. They were teasing, drawing out every sigh and moan of pleasure.

  He bent over to take her other breast in his mouth. He kneaded it, licked it, explored it with his kisses so that Lizzy was furiously panting when he finished. Her sounds of encouragement impassioned him. His strokes became quicker and harder. Lizzy reached up to explore his back. Her own need was building inside her again. His movements became frantic as he pumped inside her. She grabbed his backside for something to hold on to for she dreaded losing the touch of him.

  “Yes,” she cried, as his cock hit at the very core of her. “Yes, Fitzwilliam.”

  With a handful of his backside, she thrust her hips upward, craving that shock of pure ecstasy. He came forward two more times as she met him again and again until she cried out, the shockwave of pure gratification consumed her body. She had once again fallen into the snare of Mr. Darcy’s delights.

  Hearing her succumb to her passion, Fitzwilliam left his movements unchecked. He allowed himself the satisfaction of her body around his until he also groaned his pleasure into her. Elizabeth welcomed it, soaking up his hot wetness, unsure if she would ever feel this way again.

  They lay there together for some time longer as the rain still beat against the cottage. He murmured sweet declarations into her ear, and kissed her. By the time the storm had stopped, she thought she might just have enough to go on for the sullen life ahead of her.

  She pulled herself up and changed quietly as Mr. Darcy had fallen asleep embracing her. In sleep, his expression was that much softer than the one he wore around town. She bent down to kiss his forehead for one last goodbye. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You will never know what you have done for me.”

  She straightened herself and was about to walk away, when he caught her hand. His expression hardened as he woke, seeing her back in her clothes and about to leave. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I think I should be going home now. It is late and my parents will wonder what has happened to me. I shouldn’t wish to worry them any longer.”

  Her cheeks heated in embarrassment as he studied her. She almost cowered under his gaze, her ever-present confidence leaving her. For, she found as it had come time to leave, that she detested the thought of it. Even more than she detested the thought of leaving her family stricken and poor. But, to have known love and pleasure, if even for a brief moment, awakened her to a life that could be. It made it that much harder to return to the life she knew she had and do what she must and accept Mr. Collins.

  Her eyes watered and Mr. Darcy frowned at her. “What ever is the matter? Have I hurt you?”

  He searched her body for some ailment, but she shook her head. “No, Sir. I am as well as can be expected with what lays ahead of me.”

  His brows furred and then rose as he recollected her meaning. His voice rose in fervor. “You are not to accept Mr. Collins.”

  Feeling all strength had left her, her shoulders sagged forward. “Then tell me what I am to do, Mr. Darcy?” He grimaced at his name, but she continued. “I have no other options.”

  His face softened as he pulled her to a sitting position on the bed. “Elizabeth, you cannot mean…you cannot think so little of me that you believed I would have seduced you here without my having any serious designs on you. I cannot have injured you that much with our quarreling.”

  A war struck inside Lizzy. His words gave her hope, but she didn’t want to grasp on to them in case it was all for nothing. What else could she believe? She had an offer from Mr. Collins, but none from the gentleman in front of her.

  Fitzwilliam grasped her shoulders. In earnest, he said, “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. If it weren’t for the unhappy accident of learning of Mr. Collins proposal, I was on my way to propose to you myself. Nothing else will do, my dearest Elizabeth. I must have you. Please relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife.”

  Lizzy smiled as she fully let herself believe that his words, his actions had all been because of the truest love, not just fevered passion. He was going to make her an offer. In fact, he had just made her an offer. “Yes,” she said, a smile overtaking her face. “Yes, Fitzwilliam. I long to be your wife.”

  He pulled Elizabeth toward him. They both laughed at their joint happiness. Who could have thought from the events of this morning that the day would have ended in this way?

  “I will speak to your father now,” he said, gathering his clothes. He smiled up at her has he put his pants on. “Don’t worry. I shall leave out the impropriety of my offer.”

  She reached up to kiss his lips. “That is probably best, my love.”

  He took her hand and kissed it. Elizabeth closed her eyes, grateful for the choice she had been given.

  THE END

  His Good Opinion

  A Pride & Prejudice Sensual Retelling

  Chapter 1

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a gentleman so much struck in love will let little deter him from securing the hand of his beloved—even if the object of such affections’ sister is a ninny.

  Elizabeth delighted in the company of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in the lake country. They saw grand estates, took pretty walks, everything was just as it should be. Even the happy mistake of coming upon Mr. Darcy at his Pemberley turned out to be a most joyous occasion, for Elizabeth was soon introduced to his sister, Georgiana. Georgiana,
her brother, and Mr. Bingley were attentive and polite during their stay.

  Little vexed Elizabeth during this time except for the inability to control her emotions. She was unsure whether she wanted to see Mr. Darcy or she didn’t. To own the truth, she wanted to see him more often than not except when her confidence failed her and she did not know how to act around him. He was nothing but affable and pleasant. Gone were his pride and scornful countenance that the residents of Meryton despaired over. He was all eager politeness.

  Elizabeth found her feelings grew warmer each and every meeting between the two. Just yesterday when Mrs. Gardiner and herself called upon Miss Darcy at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy left the gentleman fishing to come to the house and see her. Lizzy couldn’t ignore the watchful eye of her aunt—or everyone in the room for that matter. She was sure her feelings for Mr. Darcy were laid open to everyone for how her face burned in his presence. As if anyone needed more proof, Elizabeth was also stunned to find that sometimes her words failed her when she had never had that problem before in company.

  Even Miss Bingley was jealous of the attraction between the two. She made every attempt at belittling Elizabeth and her connections in front of the great gentleman. At least in that case, Lizzy’s words did not fail her. Her courage always rose with every strike against it.

  Though they had met each other on the few occasions during their stay at Lambton, it was still a great shock to find Mr. Darcy calling upon their party at the Lambton Inn the following morning. The shock did not continue to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner for they saw plainly the adoration in Mr. Darcy’s eyes during every meeting, and they were sure of his affections for Elizabeth though they vowed not to discuss the topic unless their niece ventured to broach the subject.