Nights With Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Sophia Grace

  Elizabeth’s chest squeezed. She had never felt so much at one time. Her heart was bursting with joy…and love. Her voice failed her again, but she nodded. She nodded until she felt the wetness of a tear streaming from her eye.

  Mr. Darcy looked around. He caught her hand and then pulled her into an enclosure that would have led to a staircase had the castle still been intact. In here, they lost the view of the outside world, but had just the two of them to take comfort in, which was all they needed.

  He reached out for her again and this time took her hands in his own. “Elizabeth?”

  She knew what he wanted from her. Inside, she was cursing herself for being too wrapped up in emotion to talk, to give him the reassurance he needed.

  Instead, she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and brushed her lips over his. It was a sweet gesture. The feathery light touch only silenced Elizabeth’s spinning thoughts. She stayed there, her lips barely touching his. There was a mere breath between them. Everything that was left unsaid danced there as their hot breaths mixed. Finally, Elizabeth swallowed them, firmly placing her lips on Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s.

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth may have initiated the kiss, but Mr. Darcy took control over it. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. His lips were soft, but unyielding against her own. He took from her everything she wanted to give. Every last breath, every last sigh, every last moan of content, he drew out of her with his artful lips.

  She was lost in him.

  Mr. Darcy groaned and pitched his hips forward. Elizabeth immediately gasped as his hardness met her hip.

  Darcy pulled away. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. You have no idea how long I have thought of this. How often I would think of you while I was in my bed at night. I do not know what you have done to me.”

  Elizabeth wound her arms around Darcy’s hips and again pulled him forward. “What I have done to you?”

  She swallowed any response he could give with her lips once again on his. He pushed against her and she let him. His thick hardness created feelings her body had never known. The bottom of her stomach tugged and the area between her legs burned with want. She was not so naïve as to know what her body wanted, what she wanted. She also knew Darcy, her Mr. Darcy, was in search of the same.

  Could they give in to what they really wanted? Here?

  Elizabeth moaned as Darcy’s lips lowered to her neck. He kissed a trail down her side to her shoulder and then back up again. Goosebumps sprouted over her arms in a wave of pleasure. Every touch, every sensation, rooted itself into the apex of her thighs. She groaned in blissful confusion. Her body demanded her one thing, but her mind another. Society restrained her, and one that she wished to keep herself master of. Though he told her he loved her, Darcy had not even offered himself to her yet.

  He pulled away, his thumbs massaging her cheeks. “Oh, how I want you, my sweet love. I ache for you.” Understanding coursed through her and she nodded. His eyes widened. “Do you feel it too?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You find me quite out of sorts, Mr. Darcy. Unable to know what to do with myself. I love you,” she said finally. “I love you. I can feel it everywhere. I can feel the need to act as partners do, but—”

  He lowered his forehead to hers. “You love me?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Like you, I do not know when it started. Perhaps I only acted so abhorrent toward you because of the feelings you awoke in me. I do not know, but I love you so very dearly now. I hardly know how to explain it.”

  Gone were all her prejudices toward this man. The man before her was not the same man she once thought so ill of. He was not the man Mr. Wickham had spoken so plainly of. She trusted her heart and her heart wanted this man so wholly that he had to be true.

  He tilted her head up with his finger and kissed her again. This kiss, she felt to her core. This kiss, was truer and more honest than any thought, touch, or feeling she had ever had. Mr. Darcy deepened the kiss, obliterating Elizabeth’s thoughts. He pushed her against the rock and settled her head gently upon it. He caught her gaze and held it. “You will be my wife, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  He swooped in, mastering her lips on every level. When he took, she gave, and when she took, he gave unabashedly. Before she even realized how far they had gone, her skirts were pulled around her hips and Mr. Darcy’s touch met Elizabeth’s soft wetness between her legs.

  She gasped and tried to stay his hand. He pulled just far enough away to lock eyes with her. “I swear to you, you are mine, Elizabeth. I will stop if you wish, but the bounds of propriety cannot push away two who are so in love such as us. I promise you with everything that I have—”

  Elizabeth did not wait for him to finish. She let go of his hands and tamped the moan that threatened to escape from her throat as soon as his fingers worked on her. He slid his finger inside. She hid her face in his shirt as he held the back of her neck and whispered lovingly into her ear. He urged her legs wider, and she did so. The spike of heat that followed and the resulting moan could not be held back. If his finger felt this good inside her, what would his cock feel like?

  Mr. Darcy pitched his hips forward and groaned. “Elizabeth, I long for you.” He undid the buttons on his pants and lowered them, revealing his thick hardness. She barely got a glimpse of it before he moved forward and she felt it at her entrance. “I love you.” He picked her up and pinned her against the wall before pushing inside her.

  Elizabeth tensed at every inch he reached inside her. Her Darcy was inside her. He moved ever so slightly and she sighed in pleasure. This was unlike his finger in every way. His cock consumed the inside of her. There was no space between them, only feeling.

  He pushed into her further and it started to pinch. She pushed her palms against his shoulders.

  He looked up at her. “Have I hurt you?”

  “A little,” she stammered out, her voice barely working.

  He kissed her forehead and slid even further. The pinch grew in intensity until he slid past the pain. Elizabeth breathed in a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of him. Then, he started to move even more.

  He pulled partway out of her and then slid in again. Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Then, he did it again, faster, eliciting a gasp from her. He continued his movements until Elizabeth was climbing higher and higher up the wall. His face tethered her. They stared into one another’s eyes as Darcy pushed his hips forward and back. Every look they shared confirmed their love. Every glance deepened their affections.

  Mr. Darcy’s features turned hard in concentration. His movements quickened and Elizabeth held on to him. Inside her, she had started to ache where he massaged her. His quickened movements heightened the sensations pulling at her. Her stomach tightened. Her body froze. In her core, the want reached higher and higher. Her body was setting itself on a destination that Elizabeth was as yet unaware. As soon as she felt the beginning of her climax, Elizabeth returned Darcy’s strokes with her own. She met his hips time and time again until the feelings expounded and Elizabeth shook with pleasure.

  Her body reeled, her mind lost all rational thought. There was only him and her, together, at this one moment. Within seconds of her catapult off the cliff, Mr. Darcy reached his own. He clung to Elizabeth’s body as he emptied his seed in her.

  She embraced him until they regained control over their own breathing. He returned her to her feet and straightened out her skirts. When he looked up, Elizabeth had never seen him happier. He placed his hands on her cheeks. “In case I have not yet made it clear, I wish to marry you Elizabeth.” He fell to his knees and reached for her hand. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  This time, Elizabeth could not control the tears that ran down her cheeks. “Yes,” she said. “Of course, I will.”

  He stood and took her in his arms. Their thoughts ran parallel lines as if they were mirrors of the other. Each could not wait to tell the others of their happy news. He took her hand and walked her away from
their escape and back out onto the walkway. They set their eyes upon the beautiful sight and whispered to the other that they could not wait to spend many days like this—with each other in their arms and their future bright ahead of them.

  THE END

  Darcy’s Headstrong Girl

  A Pride & Prejudice Sensual Retelling

  Chapter 1

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that those without must always bend to the whim of those with.

  Elizabeth never thought she would find herself in this position. It was as if she was in a hallway filled with doors and each one of them was locked. There was no other route. No other path that would lead her to some place she wished to go for she dearly wished to be anywhere—anywhere beside standing in her father’s library, listening to the words that sealed her fate.

  Her vision narrowed, black overtaking almost everything.

  It was much easier to be a young girl as she once had been and dream of your future. She used to talk with Jane about the men they would marry. Elizabeth would describe hers as tall, dark, handsome, who stood fast in his decisions, unless it came to her of course. She would be her husband’s only weakness. Instead, today, at his very moment, she saw her dream of a fine husband crumbling before her and then being put back together in the unworthy shape of Mr. Collins.

  Bile rose in her throat. How was such a thing to be endured?

  Just as everything in her rebelled against the very idea, her veins hardening with refusal once more, the dawning of realization weighed her down. She must do this. She had to. If she did not, they would lose Longbourn and she alone would send them all into despair. With this sacrifice, she could save her family. Perhaps it would not be too bad to marry him. Perhaps it would not be—

  An image of her lying in his bed darkened her mind. Elizabeth scrambled toward the window and threw it open, sucking in air to steady the rolling of her stomach. A hand pressed onto her shoulder and squeezed. Her father’s voice could hardly be heard over the ringing in her ears coupled with the soft tender resignation of his. “I had wished he would fall for one of your younger sisters. I tried to even sway him, Lizzy, I did. Would that I have sent you away like I wanted to, but I am a selfish man. You know I can hardly bear to have you gone for any length.”

  She closed her eyes, wishing she could block out everything he just said. Wishing she could take this all back and start the day over again, but this time with Mr. Collins gone. Away, back in Kent, where he belonged. Just him. Not her.

  She would never belong to Mr. Collins. Never.

  Her father’s hand felt like a smoldering chip of wood on her skin. She brushed him off and moved away. Betrayal coursed through her hot and strong. Out of anyone, he knew her disposition. He knew how hard this would be for her. “You have consented?”

  “I had to. Our situation is more dire than you realize.”

  Of course it was. Because he could not stop Mamma from spending or corral her in any way, she would suffer for it. She would make the sacrifice no one would. “I need not accept him then?”

  “Well, he—”

  Tears threatened her eyes. For the first time since he told her of her fate, she looked at him. Cringing at his sorrowful look, she held tight to her anger. “Please do not make me say it to him. I beg of you. I will do as you ask for my family, but I will not tell him yes.”

  Mr. Bennet’s fingers tapped the wood of his desk as he stared down at his hand. His throat worked under her heavy gaze. He at least owed her this. She would stand at the altar with him. She would listen to the words, but dear God, she could not bear to tell him to his face that she would marry him. It would break her—body and spirit.

  He cleared his throat, choking over his first words. “I—I will arrange it.”

  She nodded and straightened her shoulders. Her immediate reaction was to say thank you, but she bit down on her lip.

  Mr. Bennet reached out to her. “Lizzy, my child…”

  She eyed his hand like it was a snake waiting in the grass. What else could he possibly want from her?

  “I— we all will thank you for this sacrifice.”

  She shook her head before he even finished speaking. “No. That is not possible, Father. No one will feel this but me, I can promise you that. Mother will not understand the pains I will have to go through. She is not sensible enough and neither will my younger sisters, as selfish and as ignorant as they are, they will not feel it.” She knew she should not speak so, but her tongue kept moving as thought after blistering thought hit her. “You and Jane might begin to comprehend what I will have to suffer perhaps, but you will not be there day after day while I am living it. When I am removed to Kent, you will not often think of me. You will put it out of your mind along with the guilt. No, Father, I am sure. No one will feel this but me.”

  She turned on her heel and fled from the room. Her eyes trained on the front door as if at shooting practice. Her target. Her relief. There, she would find her prize. Freedom. Outdoors amongst the flowing, untethered wind and the growth of nature. Both things she would not feel as Mrs. Collins. The open space called to her. Perhaps if she could look up into the big, blue sky she would feel at one with it. If she focused on it enough, she hoped she would find herself floating upwards and out of this prison.

  She rounded the corner of the house near her father’s window. A loud, happy exclamation pierced her ears and she fell to her knees. It was her mother. Undoubtedly she had just been told of the news by her father. Another loud rapture rose from within the room and Elizabeth felt a blow to her stomach. She clutched her hands tightly around her midsection as her stomach tightened and tightened within her.

  Inside, her mother spoke excitedly. She called out for Mr. Collins and soon his voice, dripping with misplaced sincerity, joined hers. Elizabeth crawled to the house, laying her head back against the cool stone as she sucked in air. She would have to hear that voice every day for the rest of her life.

  Hands clapped inside followed by her mother’s high voice. “You must announce your engagement tonight at the Netherfield Ball. Oh, how lovely that will be. What happiness it will bring to everyone.”

  “I shall ask Elizabeth at once,” his voice said. His ignorant, nonsensical voice. She cringed.

  “No,” her father’s voice finally rang out. “That will not be necessary. I am not sure a public announcement is called for and you certainly should not bother Elizabeth with this.”

  “Bother Elizabeth, are you mad? Of course, she will want to tell everyone. Yes, yes. An announcement tonight will do wonderfully. How perfect it will all be.”

  “I still believe I should ask Elizabeth—.”

  “No,” Mr. Bennet said resolutely. “That will not be necessary. If you must announce it, do so, but do not bother Lizzy with this.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes as the talking continued. She had been looking forward to the ball at Netherfield tonight. She had already been wrangled into giving Mr. Collins the first two dances, but now it seemed she would have to give up more. She had to give him her life too.

  Tears streamed down her face as the arrangements were made inside. Mrs. Bennet would speak to Mr. Bingley about it first in case there was anything else he would like to announce, her mother’s voice positively dripping with hope for Jane. If Bingley did have another announcement, they would not want to bother with Mr. Collins’s and Lizzy’s engagement.

  She listened to it all as if she was outside herself. Her cheeks became wetter, but she made no move to check her tears. She would give herself this moment of sorrow, this moment to feel and think about all she would be giving up by marrying Mr. Collins, but by the time the ball came around this evening, she would be stoic. She would go through the motions. She would smile when necessary, dance the steps when shown around the dance floor, but that would be it. After this, she would turn her emotions off. She would no longer need the feelings of happiness or sadness or fear or love, she just wanted to feel nothing.

  Chapter
2

  Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy settled himself near the second-floor window that looked out at the front entrance to Netherfield. He told himself he was not waiting for Elizabeth Bennet to show, but he looked out every time he heard a carriage pull up and waited until he saw who stepped down from it enough to know he was lying to himself.

  She had seeped under his skin like a sliver. She looked upon him with vexation more often than not, but he found he quite liked when she did. The fire in her eyes was unmistakable when they quarreled over topics as they had since knowing one another. Since being in her presence, he found he quite liked a sound mind and firm opinions in a woman. Others had said they would prefer a wife who was naturally giving, someone who they could assert their will over, but not him. Elizabeth was the opposite of that and he liked her far better for it. She was sensible and even though they did not agree all the time, he understood how she gathered her opinions. She was smart. She was funny.

  And, she was beautiful.

  Far prettier than any woman he had ever known before with the grace and countenance to back it up. Yes, he was waiting for her. He would not be happy until he danced with her, until he wooed her, until he made her love him. It may be a difficult feat, but that would make the victory all the sweeter. A far less woman would not be able to take on him and Pemberley, but he knew Elizabeth could. He was not too full of himself to know he could be demanding, perhaps even trying at times. Other women looked past that in him and only at his large fortune, but Elizabeth called him out on his shortcomings. She would not stand for it and that was exactly the type of woman he needed standing next to him at Pemberley.

  A carriage rounded the bend and stopped in front of the stone stairs leading to the entrance. Darcy peered out the window, a breath held in his chest. A young girl stepped down and Darcy immediately deflated. It was not her. When the woman looked up though, his breath hitched. It was Elizabeth’s youngest sister.