Nights With Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Sophia Grace

  A torrent of feelings overcame her. Darcy’s lips on her skin, his finger coaxing sighs from her, was all too much to bear. When he entered a finger inside her, she cried out again. It was the most wickedly delicious feeling she could imagine. He circled his finger all the while pushing it in and out of her wetness. Her legs trembled as if the earth was shuddering beneath her. He increased his motions, driving Elizabeth higher and higher up the bookcase. Her breaths came quicker and harder. Heat bloomed between her thighs, increasing in sensitivity as he worked her into a state of frenzy.

  When she could not take it anymore, she screamed out, “Fitzwilliam,” and then she fell over a glorious edge of relentless pleasure. It swamped her from head to toe. She stumbled forward into his arms and he caught her, glowing with love. He caressed her temples and whispered sweetly into her ear as the the feelings subsided.

  Still hard against her, Elizabeth reached out tentatively toward him. He twitched, and growing more bold, she seized him in her hands.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmured.

  She touched and explored him through his breeches until it was not enough for him. He undid the buttons and released himself to her full touch. He clasped his hands over hers and showed her how to give him pleasure. She ran her fingers down the length of his shaft and back up again. The quicker she did this, the more out of breath Fitzwilliam became. She worked in earnest until he could not take it anymore. He took her hands and pinned them above her head. With his other hand, he guided his cock to her entrance. Elizabeth accepted him readily, eager to feel her love’s affection.

  She pitched her hips forward and he slid mercifully inside. They both cried out together. “Oh, Elizabeth,” Darcy said. He moved inside her. As soon as his movements began, he could not control himself. He became frantic with want and need. He slammed his hips into hers again and again. With each stroke, he climbed higher and higher toward the glorious ending.

  Elizabeth grasped the bookcase behind her, overcome with his need. She felt it, too. The more wild he became, the more she urged him to come inside her. “Please, Fitzwilliam,” she called out. To know that she could spend a life like this was too much to bear. And with that thought, her body spasmed around him once more.

  Fitzwilliam, eager to ride her pleasure, pushed himself further, relishing in the hot, wet feeling of his soon-to-be wife. He moved inside her more urgently until he too lost all thought and he released his seed inside Elizabeth.

  They stood together, chests warring, vigorously taking in air.

  Too soon, Fitzwilliam slid out of Elizabeth and grasped her shoulders. “You will make me a very happy man.” He kissed her cheek and helped her arrange her skirts.

  “And you have already made me a happy woman.”

  THE END

  Stolen Virtue

  Stolen Virtue

  A Pride & Prejudice Sensual Retelling

  Chapter 1

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman’s reputation, though beautiful, is brittle when it is called into question. Elizabeth Bennet found out in one of the hardest ways imaginable.

  The day after the Netherfield Ball, Elizabeth decided on a walk down the Meryton Road to clear her thoughts. The events of the previous evening were almost too unbearable to think on. Not only did she have to dance with her cousin, Mr. Collins, for the first two dances, but he had made a misstep and embarrassed her in front of everyone in the room. Then, she later danced with Mr. Darcy, even though she promised herself she would never dance with him, and all they did was quarrel. She could never forgive him and his treatment of poor Mr. Wickham. To add to the others, there was the improper behavior of all her family, excusing Jane, of course.

  She ran the scenes from the previous evening through her head so much she developed a headache. What must their neighbors think of them now? Why did the memory of the argument with Mr. Darcy pain her? She said nothing he did not deserve, and yet, she felt as if she should have held her tongue. Never in her life had she supposed her family would expose them all to ridicule to such a degree as last night. It was troubling, and her body was paying the price for it this morning.

  Her fears were expounded when Jane received Caroline Bingley’s letter this morning informing them that the whole party were to have left for London. Her poor sister. How she felt it! It pained her to see her so troubled.

  Elizabeth felt her head. She was too hot and there was only the slightest of breezes. The sun was full out and there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Looking around, she realized she had walked too far from home. It was no wonder she was on fire and her head was hurting. Also, unbeknownst to her, she had inadvertently turned down one of the main thoroughfares to London. She turned around and walked in haste back toward her country road where it was safer.

  Though she had yet to see anyone, this road was known for being far busier than the ones she usually chose to walk. It held travelers in stagecoach’s, men on horses, and wealthy families in a fine chaise and four.

  Her steps slowed. The exercise only aggravated the pain in her head. Moving to the side of the road, she leaned on a fence to catch her breath. She stood there for several minutes, wishing the material of her dress was a bit thinner. More air would make this walk far more agreeable.

  She heard the unmistakable sound of horse’s hooves pounding the dirt road. Her heart stilled for one beat, then she stepped forward, forcing herself to take one step after the next. She kept her head down and walked as fast as she could toward home. Her lungs burned with every breath and her legs shook from the exertion and fear trembling her body. She should have paid more attention to where she was walking!

  The rhythmic pounding of the hooves moved closer and Elizabeth felt faint. To her utter horror, the horse slowed and at the top her vision; she saw its legs stomp at the dirt in front of her. A man slid from his perch.

  Elizabeth looked up. The man wore dirty clothes which not even when new could have been called fine. His teeth were a disgusting shade of yellow when he smiled wickedly at her. “Do ye need some help, Miss?”

  Ignoring the man, Elizabeth kept walking. She looked to the road ahead and prayed for a familiar carriage or horse to appear at that very moment. With nothing in sight, her chest constricted.

  “I said, do ye be needing any help, Miss?” the man continued, his gruff voice clipped and angry.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath, hoping the voice that followed would be firm and strong. “No, Sir. I am quite well. You can be on your way.”

  The man grabbed Elizabeth’s wrist and pulled. She fought the scream creeping up her chest and tamped it down.

  “It’s not right for a lady such as you to be walking these roads all alone. Risky,” he said, smiling, his putrid breath almost making her gag.

  “Let go,” Elizabeth said. She tried to pull her wrist from his grasp, but he did not release his hold. Her mind swam with something to say that might make him unhand her. What could she say though? She knew very well nothing she could say would make him stop if he was determined to hurt her.

  His finger touched her cheek, and Elizabeth’s whole body went weak with tremors. He laughed into her wide-eyed stare. “I bettin’ you wish you didn’t take this here road for your exercise.”

  He pushed her back toward a fence post and gathered up her skirts. She heard them rip. Screaming, she kicked out and caught the man in the leg. He swore and came at her harder. A violent pain shot up her back as he pushed her toward the post again. “Stop!” Elizabeth cried.

  He laughed and his disgusting breath hit her neck. She struggled against him. She heard another unmistakable tearing sound before her world swam in front of her. Tears gathered in her eyes and spilled over.

  She was ruined.

  Chapter 2

  Dazed, Elizabeth did not know how long she was in the clutches of that horrendous man. She only remembered the feeling of weight being lifted from her. A freedom that felt more precious to her than anything else. Then, there were soft whispers t
hat roused her, “Miss Bennet, are you well? Miss Bennet?”

  She shook her head to and fro when gentle hands clasped it in between two hot palms. Her eyes opened and Mr. Darcy peered down at her. She blinked, and he did not go away. It was really him. She turned her head and searched for the other man. Mr. Darcy needed to be informed of him. He could come back and get her and now him.

  “Shh,” he said. “Do not worry yourself. He is gone. You are well and he will not come back for you. I promise.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. Relief, confusion, anger, and a bone-deep fear all swirled inside her. She looked down at herself. Her dress was in tatters. Her skirts ripped. With trembling hands, she tried to piece her clothing back together. Mr. Darcy helped to cover her and then held his palm to her cheek once more. He ventured a small smile. Though laced with worry that one small act made her feel almost at peace.

  Almost.

  She clutched his hand, nails digging into his skin. “I must know, Mr. Darcy.” Her voice shook, and she fought for control over it. “Am I ruined?”

  Darcy hastily shook his head. “It had yet to get that far, Miss Bennet. I assure you. Your virtue is intact.”

  She closed her eyes, tears leaking from the sides. “At least I can be grateful for that. Thank you,” she said, blinking up at him. “If you had not come, I do not want to think of what might have happened. I owe you a great debt, Sir.”

  “You owe me no such thing. Let us get you home now. Stay here. I shall bring my horse back and will put you on her.” Mr. Darcy removed his jacket and placed it around Elizabeth’s shoulders.

  She was glad to have it for as soon as he left her sight, her body was racked with tremors. It was as if she were standing outside in the dead of night with cold shivers coursing through her body, but this was worse. They were uncontrollable.

  Within a few minutes, Mr. Darcy tied the horse on the nearby fence and helped her to her feet. Her legs could barely hold her so he took her in his hands and hoisted her on to the tall horse. She grabbed at the reins, holding them with fierce determination.

  In silence, Darcy led his horse forward. The Meryton Road soon came into view and Elizabeth thought wistfully how close she was to saving herself instead of Mr. Darcy having to save her. Her throat burned. It was unnecessary to think those kinds of irrational thoughts. They would do her no good. What was done was done.

  “How came you to be so far away from home?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  Elizabeth swallowed. Her answer would not satisfy the gentleman, and she worried what ill opinions it might give him about her, other than the ones he already possessed. “I do not have any welcome excuse, Mr. Darcy. I merely was lost in thought and walked as I often do to clear my head not realizing I had made my way onto this road. I had just discovered my folly when the man… When the man came upon me.”

  She looked down at Mr. Darcy. His jaw clenched, his countenance strong. “I do not know how to apologize for what you have gone through, Miss Bennet.”

  “It would have been worse had you not come along.”

  He gazed up at her. He frowned, his lips a thin line. “I hope I need not tell you that all men are not vagabonds and worthless scoundrels. I know you do not have the highest opinion of me, but the man you encountered is the worst waste of society.”

  Elizabeth did not know how to answer him. She wished more than ever that she had held her tongue last evening. If she would have known he would have turned into her savior today, she would not have spoken so freely yesterday.

  Wishing to take the focus off her, Elizabeth asked, “Did you enjoy the ball last night?”

  “I did,” he said. Then almost immediately after, he continued with, “Please do not carry on a conversation because it is polite. I am happy to just walk in silence if that should suit you better, Miss Bennet. Do not reduce yourself to what is customary if you do not wish to.”

  Ready to oblige him in that scheme, Elizabeth was silent for several minutes. They turned up the Meryton Road and were closer to Longbourn than not when Elizabeth said, “I wish I did not have to speak of this to my parents. This will agitate my mother and my father, well…”

  Recollecting what Miss Bennet was trying to say, Darcy said, “You and your father are close. This will pain him. It has pained me a great deal and I am of no relation to you. Though I can see how agreeable it would be to not have a discussion known to pain everyone, it is my belief that these types of sensitive topics should be faced head on. Besides,” he said, looking up at her disheveled appearance. “I am not sure how we would hide it even if we could.”

  Elizabeth colored at the reminder of her appearance when Darcy first saved her. She did not know how much of herself showed to him, but it was far more than was appropriate. “I want to thank you again, Mr. Darcy. For your advice and for your actions.”

  “It saddens me to hear you thank me and know you think ill of some of my past behaviors, Miss Bennet. I can deduce from our conversation while dancing yesterday that Mr. Wickham has given you information that is not a true judge of my character. I beg you to reconsider his falsehoods that he forced upon you. I know not exactly what he has said, but I can assure you he is wrong. Wickham is little better than the man who accosted you on the road.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “Mr. Darcy, that is quite a statement. How can that be true?”

  “That man rarely thinks of anything beyond his own pleasure, Miss Bennet. I implore you to see reason. I fear I may be too late and your attachment to him strengthens by the day.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Though I like him, Mr. Darcy. There is no strong attraction between us.” She decided to venture forth carefully. Mr. Darcy had saved her from a terrible fate, but she pushed forward, hoping to uncover the truth about the two gentlemen. “Mr. Wickham claims you went against your father’s wishes and forbade him the living that was due him. Can you prove that false?”

  Mr. Darcy’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the leather rein. “I can. I offered Mr. Wickham the living my father desired him to have. He denied it and expressed a wish to study law. He asked for a sum of money, which I granted him.”

  “That is far different from the story he told me.”

  “Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, stopping the horse and standing next to her. “There is a far worse objection I have to him than lying about me. Your current delicate situation reminds me of it. It is a pain I would wish to forget. My sister, Georgiana, was preyed on by Wickham. His aim was her fortune of thirty-thousand pounds. She fancied herself in love and consented to an elopement.” He drew in a deep breath. “I happened upon them a few days before they were to escape. When I saw them together, I feared many things I did when I saw you struggling with that man. I thought perhaps Wickham had stolen her virtue, which, thank God, is safe. I worried it was not likely for her to overcome such a terrible thing, but I daresay she has got on terribly well. Though, there are moments when I see her questioning her judgment. I would not wish the same for you, Miss Bennet, and so I implore you to stay away from that man.”

  Elizabeth blinked down at him. His countenance, fervor, everything pointed to his declaration being true. His poor sister! And how stupid was she to trust a man she barely knew? “I do not know what to say, Mr. Darcy.” She swallowed the tenderness filling her throat. “I am very sorry for your sister, and you. How old was she?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. “That is my sister Lydia’s age.” Though she did not speak this part, she could see Lydia behaving much the same as Miss Darcy. Thankfully, Lydia did not have the fortune to entice such men. “Why will you not publicly discredit him?”

  Mr. Darcy turned and continued to lead the horse toward Longbourn. “I do not wish to ruin my sister’s reputation.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth said. “That is of the utmost importance. It is only a shame you could not keep her reputation intact and discredit him.”

  “I have thought about it often, Miss Bennet, and have yet to come u
p with a solution I am happy with. I am forced to keep quiet on the matter and listen to the rumors about me that he spreads.”

  Guilt coursed through her body. She had listened to Mr. Wickham and spread the awful lies about Mr. Darcy herself. “I am sorry for any part I played. Had I known the truth, I never would have.”

  “You are not to blame, Miss Bennet. The blame is all Mr. Wickham’s. And it is something you certainly should not trouble yourself over now. You have greater concerns.”

  Elizabeth looked straight ahead. Longbourn was coming into view. Mr. Darcy quickened his pace, and they soon drew up to the front door. Darcy helped her from the horse. Jane, upon seeing them from the window, was the first to greet them. Her smiling face melted into horror. Her shrieks brought the whole house to the front door.

  Mr. Collins took one look at Elizabeth, his face aghast, and then stared Mr. Darcy down. “You have ruined her.”

  Elizabeth’s entreaties were scarcely heard for a full two minutes before she implored her father to see reason. He allowed them to speak and Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth recounted the terrible event on the Meryton Road and how Mr. Darcy saved her from certain undesirable circumstances.

  Mr. Collins would not relent. His position in this world would not have him hear anything or agree to anything except that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth must be married at once.

  Chapter 3

  The horror on Elizabeth’s face was clear. Mr. Darcy stood resolute in front of them. His opinions could not be fathomed from the look on his face. It was a serene mask.

  “No,” Elizabeth protested. She chanced a glanced at Mr. Darcy and then stared at Mr. Collins. “I will not have you tell me who I am to marry, Sir. Your opinion is of no importance to me.”