Nights With Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Sophia Grace

  She stood, drawing his attention. “Mr. Darcy.”

  He stopped and turned to her, cocking his head. “Elizabeth, you may call me Fitzwilliam now.”

  Her heart picked up the pace again, but she would not let herself believe that they could go on living so amiable when this was all forced. “Perhaps I could,” she said, her chin lowering. “But I find it hard to bring myself to do that since you were made to marry me, Mr. Darcy. I dread that I have put us in this position. I should never have gone off unsupervised, and Mr. Collins—”

  Mr. Darcy put his hand up to silence her. “Mr. Collins is a twit. If it were not for his mouth—”

  “Exactly,” Elizabeth cried. “If it were not for his incessant talking about something he knew nothing of, we would not find ourselves here. For what it is worth, I apologize.”

  “It was not your fault,” Mr. Darcy said, coming closer to her. “You could not force sense into him even if you had wanted to. It does not take with some people.”

  Elizabeth bit back a smile. She could not agree more, but that was not the point of this conversation. “If he had not told everyone what he saw, we would not be in the predicament we are in.”

  “What predicament is that?” Mr. Darcy asked, his eyebrows raising.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Did she need to remind him of what she was doing in his house? “Husband and wife, of course. A wife you do not want. A wife who only out of the laws of fine society do you find yourself with now.”

  Mr. Darcy fretted over his lip before a coy smile worked its way across his face. “Who says I have a wife I do not want?”

  Elizabeth’s gaze narrowed. “Do not play with me, Mr. Darcy. I know you do not like me. I know my family’s situation, and it is not akin to your own. You have disliked me from the moment you met me.”

  “You have disliked me from the moment you met me.”

  She could not argue with that. He was aloof and uncaring. “I find it hard to care for those who find themselves far above their company.”

  He shrugged. “So, now you fancy you are far above your company?”

  Elizabeth recoiled. “But of course not. You are my husband.”

  “Out of necessity?”

  “As you see,” Elizabeth said. Why did it seem they were even quarreling about this? Their opinions must have been the same on this issue at least. Could they find nothing to agree on? “I wish only to make amends for my part in this situation, Mr. Darcy. Please do not make fun of me for it.”

  Mr. Darcy paced in front of her again. He paced so long Elizabeth thought that he might have decided he wasn’t going to talk about this anymore. At last, though, he whirled on her. He came toward her in three easy steps until he grabbed her face. “What if I do not need you to make amends, dear Elizabeth? What if I find myself quite content with my situation?”

  Chapter 4

  Elizabeth almost stumbled backward. His grip on her cheeks was fierce, but not painful. It made her insides ache with want.

  She tried to push him away. She hated the way he was making her feel when she knew to her very core that he could never feel anything for her. “You do not mean that.”

  His grip tightened. “Please do not tell me what I mean.”

  There was the Mr. Darcy she knew. Stubborn, and angry. “I beg you to take your hands off me.”

  His gaze lowered to his grip on her, but he did not release her. “You are my wife, and tonight is our marriage night. I will not take my hands off you.”

  Elizabeth’s jaw hardened as she took in his words. She had no idea he meant to consummate the marriage. She did think of it. She thought that perhaps over time they could grow to stand one another. Perhaps then they could lie with the other without displeasure, but not until then. “You do not want me,” she said, her voice hard.

  “Again, telling me what I do and do not want. You are Elizabeth Darcy. You’re mine.”

  Elizabeth sucked in a breath. Her thighs quivered. Alien emotions swept through her as he stared into her eyes. She pushed at his chest, but he did not give her up. “Let go of me!”

  Emotions tore through her. How cruel it was of him to make her want him when he did not feel the same way? Anger called tears to her eyes.

  Instead of letting her go, he pulled her to him. He crushed his lips to hers in a fierce kiss.

  Elizabeth gasped as their mouths melded together. All the hate, all the uncertainly about their lives together spiraled toward the edge. He parted her lips, sweeping his tongue into her mouth to kiss her more deeply. She moaned, and Mr. Darcy took that as an invitation to move her back to the wall. Finally, he let her face go, but he moved his hands to her waist instead. He yanked her forward, his hips slamming against hers. She made a choked sound when she found the evidence of his pleasure thick between them.

  His cock was hard and lengthened.

  He pulled away. “You feel what you do to me, Elizabeth? Would I behave like this if I did not want you with my entire soul? Everything in me wants you. I did not ask for your hand out of some unfounded societal rule. I asked for your hand because I love you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He looked at her hungrily, so she answered him in the only way she wanted. She kissed him back.

  He pressed her into the wall, his hips pumping into her. Even through her layers of clothes, she could feel how ready he was for her.

  Shocked wasn’t even the word to describe it, but Elizabeth found herself welcoming of all the emotions flooding herself now. Mr. Darcy wanted her. She may not have believed it if he’d only said it, but his stiff cock was better evidence.

  “I want to empty my seed inside you, Elizabeth.”

  She let out a short cry.

  In an instant, Darcy pulled her skirts up and out of the way, and then dragged her undergarments down. Her chest heaved in between them as he worked on his own pants. Within moments, she felt the skin of his cock nestled by her apex. Juices slickened her core.

  Intimacy with a man was as foreign to her as another land, but her body temperature rose, and the area between her legs pulsed with need.

  “Tell me I’m your husband, Elizabeth.”

  His fingers reached out to play with her nub. She let out a strangled sound. Moving forward, she went to kiss him again, but he moved just out of reach, removing his fingers as well.

  “Tell me I’m your husband.”

  Her breathing was labored, but eventually, she said, “You’re my husband.”

  “Say you’re my wife.” His fingers reached out again. Her pussy was drenched, and she felt the slickness when he massaged her nub.

  “I’m your wife,” she cried.

  His knelt, his forearms going under her thighs to pick her up. Her legs spread wide open as Mr. Darcy held her against the wall, his cock at her entrance.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Her heart beat like mad in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to have his thick cock inside her, but she looked around the room. “Will a servant come in?”

  He teased her entrance until she did not even care the answer he uttered. He could take her with an audience if he wanted.

  “I told them to leave us.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, as his head dipped inside her.

  No wonder young women were not supposed to know the pleasures of the flesh before they had a husband. The feeling was too good.

  She trembled in his arms and he rocked into her harder until her eyes rolled in the back of her head.

  “Hold on,” Mr. Darcy said. “This might hurt.”

  He didn’t give her time to think about it. He retreated, then plunged inside her again. Pain pulsed inside her as he seated himself fully. He stilled, waiting for it to go away. Reaching between them, he played with her nub until all remembrances of the pain fled. She rocked into him, and he swore.

  “Ever since I first saw you, I thought of this moment, Elizabeth. I ached for it, for you.”

  She was high on his words. He really cared for her, and not because he had to. He’d
liked her from the beginning, but she’d mistook it for the opposite. How stupid she was. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I cannot believe it.”

  He kissed down her neck, sending goosebumps over her body. He bent lower, kissing the flesh on her breasts near the neckline of her dress. Her nipples pulled taut, straining for him.

  He quickened his movements. “Call me Fitzwilliam, my love.”

  Her insides clenched. Quickly, her body went barreling toward an unknown feeling. It drove her higher and higher until he slammed inside her one more time.

  “Fitzwilliam!” she cried. She spasmed around him.

  He leaned against her and the wall, groaning out his release. She felt him empty his seed inside her, filling her.

  His hands trembled against her thighs. Slowly, he lowered her feet to the floor, his hands tracking up her legs and to her waist where they stayed. Finally, his head lifted to gaze into her eyes. “I believe we’ll have to do a lot more of that, Elizabeth Darcy.”

  Chapter 5

  Stretched out next to one another on the settee, Elizabeth and Darcy talked about all the assumptions they had made about one another. He had never once felt she tricked him into marriage, and in fact, was waiting in that roadside shelter for her to pass by. He wanted to make his intentions known, but before they could talk of it, Mr. Collins had walked in on them.

  Elizabeth laughed. She saw Fitzwilliam in a whole other light now. True that he was not the best at conversing in society. He had relented that fact when she brought it up. But viewing things from his point of view made her heart swell. He had loved her this whole time, and now they were married.

  Darcy swirled his hands over her stomach. Fire had returned to his eyes. The fireplace still crackled in the far corner of the room. Darcy had been right. The servants had let them be at his request, and she could not be more thankful for it. To feel her husband inside her was a pleasure she would not soon forget.

  He smiled at her. “I believe you are wearing too many clothes, Elizabeth.”

  She played with his fingers. “Again?” she asked, temptation rising.

  “I would like to try something different.”

  “Different?” she asked. Had they not already done something different? She’d only imagined having sex in a bed and yet, for her first time, they’d done it against the wall, suspended in his arms. “What more could we do?” she asked, her stomach giving a swift tug.

  “Plenty,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips.

  He bade her sit up, so he could loosen the ties on her dress. Then came the shift and all her undergarments. He pulled them over her head and dropped them to the floor. She was bare in front of him. Her heart lurched as he took her in. He reached out, rubbing the rising peaks of her breasts.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured.

  His fingers slipped down, over her belly button to her coarse hair. They slipped to her apex, rubbing a small circle that had her knees dropping open. Her breath caught. “You’re also wearing too much clothes,” she said, her voice coming out in a stammer.

  “I don’t need my clothes off for this,” he said. He slipped down, bypassing one of her legs and situating himself between her knees. His lock of dark hair crested between her legs and a muscle tensed in her stomach.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her knees automatically trying to close.

  He forced them open, giving her a stern look. Though the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, he was still made up like the Mr. Darcy she was used to seeing though she was not used to seeing him jut out between her thighs. “I’m going to lick you,” he told her.

  She tried to close her legs again, but he pushed them open again. He darted forward, not giving her time to think. His tongue tasted the seam of her pussy, following it all the way to her nub where he curled around it.

  She cried out, her hands coming to his shoulders. “Mr. Darcy!”

  It came out as almost a scolding, but it wasn’t that, not truly. She wouldn’t yell at him for this for the world. Her head fell back on the settee and he moaned. The vibration of his lips heightened her experience. Her fingers tangled in his dark curls, holding him to her. Her body started to reach the same heights, but how it got there was completely different. He suckled her, then reached his hands up to play with her nipples.

  This was out of pure pleasure. This was not laying with a man to make offspring. This was laying with her husband out of pure enjoyment. She rode the waves of pleasure that hit her as he suckled and licked. Her cries lengthened and increased, so much so that she worried she would wake the servants. She tried being quiet, but Mr. Darcy scolded her.

  “Don’t mute yourself. Tell me what it feels like, Elizabeth. I want to know.”

  “But—”

  He pinched the swell of her breast, and she cried out again. “Tell me,” he demanded.

  Her toes curled. “It feels amazing,” she cried. “I want more.”

  He chuckled huskily as his movements quickened. His tongue darted out, teasing, then splaying over her for a completely different touch. He rubbed her nub, swirling his tip over it again and again until sparks fractured her sight.

  “Yes, Fitzwilliam.” She held him there with more force than was necessary, but if he did not make her come apart again, she did not know what she would do. “Yes, lick me. More!”

  Like the dutiful husband, he did as she asked. He stayed where he was, his tongue passing over and over her nub until it was too much. She screamed his name as another shattering pleasure rocked her.

  Her eyes widened as her body carried her on a high. Darcy moved up, dropping a chaste kiss to her cheek. “You are beautiful like this.”

  She shook her head as he lay next to her. “I cannot believe I almost missed this. I hate to say it, but I’m glad Mr. Collins found us alone together.”

  Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows arched. “Scandalous.”

  She laughed into his chest. “Will there be many more days like this?”

  “Too many to count,” he promised.

  Her heart sang. This went from one of the worst days of her life to the best.

  “Now,” he said, picking her up in his arms. “Might I show you to the bedchamber?”

  “Like this?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

  “Don’t worry,” he winked. “I’ll be quick.”

  He ran toward the door, stopping momentarily only to open it. She looked back into the room. “But my clothes!”

  “I’m sure they’ll be back in your possession tomorrow morning when the maid comes in.”

  “Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth cried, admonishing him.

  He chuckled heartily. “They’ll get used to it. I intend to have my wife in whatever room I would like.”

  Darcy bounded up the steps, and she clung to him. She couldn’t think of a more perfect existence.

  THE END

  A Different Season

  A Pride & Prejudice Sensual Retelling

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth's throat constricted. Long had she waited for words like these to arrive.

  Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy back at Netherfield.

  Memories from the past made her knees go weak. She sat at the edge of the window seat, Jane's letter still clutched in her hands. The words she had simultaneously fretted and waited for written in her sister's elegant hand. She stared out at the park behind Longbourn, the green trees blowing in the English breeze. It had been sometime since she realized her feelings for Mr. Darcy. She had despised him, ignored him, but at some point within the last time she saw him, she understood she would forever see him as her greatest loss.

  She herself had been too proud, been filled with too much prejudice to understand from the beginning what her heart truly wanted. She knew it so well now that it tortured her.

  At six and twenty, she was practically an old maid. If she had wanted a husband besides Mr. Darcy, there were none to be had. The once eligible men were all married, living their lives while she still lived at Longbourn with Mr. and Mrs.
Bennet who had not given up their penchant for arguing over nothing.

  Lydia, of course, had married Mr. Wickham. They lived in the north of England with five kids. She had known her foolish sister would never be truly happy with the scoundrel she mixed herself up with. At times, she even thought Lydia was aware of how ridiculous her life was, though the children, and what little money they managed to make, took the sting out of it.

  Kitty had married into a country family. When her husband’s father died, he inherited the farm where they lived comfortably and happily.

  Jane, she thought. Dear, sweet Jane. She married Mr. Bingley as they all knew she would. They were smitten with one another from the beginning and though they had taken a winding path to get there, it did not surprise her in the least when he finally returned to Netherfield and proposed to her.

  Jane was her only solace now. That they lived so close to one another was Elizabeth’s greatest comfort. Though she was at home while the rest of her sisters lived their own lives, she had always said she would not marry without love, and at least at that she had kept her promise to herself.

  Her heart loved Mr. Darcy still. She would not marry unless it was he who stood up with her.

  She folded the letter back into the crisp lines Jane had originally made and reached over to set it on her writing desk. She’d avoided Netherfield during the few times Mr. Darcy had come to visit the place. Not because she didn't want to see him, but because she didn’t know if her heart could take it. Jane, of course, let it slip every time her husband heard from him that he was still yet unattached. No wife. No family. He was as yet what he ever was. Running Pemberley, visiting his sister, Georgiana, who’d married a ridiculously wealthy man and was now living in the south of England.

  Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of herself, the same question begging to burst from her lips that was always there. Why hadn't Mr. Darcy married? She was sure there were enough options for him. Was he too busy in his business? Or, like her, was he in love with someone he could never have and therefore wouldn’t bring himself to marry another?