Page 44 of Desired By Mr Darcy
She toyed with the collar of his shirt next, her fingers tracing the crisp fabric with a mixture of curiosity and intent. He fought to keep still, though he could feel the fine tremor in his own hands, his restraint hanging by a thread. That thread was tested even more as her fingers slipped beneath his collar. Her touch sent sparks through him as she explored the sensitive skin. Who could have thought such an ordinary place could feel such sensations?
“Elizabeth,” he murmured, his voice rough.
She paused, tilting her head slightly, her fingers still caressing his neck.
“Yes?”
He hesitated, and then caught the hem of his shirt in his fingers. He began to draw the material up, exposing his skin inch by inch. Elizabeth’s gaze was burning into him. Somehow, it did not frighten him to be under such close scrutiny; rather, it emboldened him. He pulled his shirt off without further hesitation, allowing it to fall to the floor beside his discarded cravat.
Her hands were on him in a moment, palms flat against his chest.
“You were right,” she murmured.
“About what?”
“You said that you run hot. It is as though a fire burns beneath your skin.”
“Oh.”
“You shall keep me warm on winter nights,” she teased, her fingers dancing upwards. “I have never seen the male body at such proximity. It differs greatly from my own.”
“I…”
“You have hair, for example, where I do not.”
He looked down, looking at the dark hair that scattered his torso.
“I am sorry if you find it to be vulgar.”
“Vulgar?” she asked with disbelief. “How could anything about my beloved husband be considered vulgar? You are beautiful. I did not expect you to be so muscular.”
“I ride often,” he said by way of explanation.
She ran her palms over his shoulders and down over his arms, concluding with lacing her fingers through his as she looked up at him adoringly. He was sure he had done nothing to warrant such a gaze, but he basked in it all the same.
They stood in the quiet, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire. She did not look away, and nor did he. In that charged stillness, Darcy felt utterly lost to her. Desire coiled tight within him, an aching need to touch her, to close the space between them, to shatter this unbearable tension. And yet, he hesitated, suspended between longing and restraint, uncertain of how to begin when all he wanted waseverything.
He wanted to touch her everywhere, kiss her everywhere. He had had a taste of her, and he was a starving man desperate for more. Damn propriety, damn his own mind restricting him from what he so desperately wanted.
He surged forward, taking her in his arms and crushing his lips to hers. She moaned against his lips, and he swallowed the sound eagerly. Hours could have passed and he would not havenot known it, for he was utterly consumed by his bewitching wife. Her lips seemed to fit his perfectly, her tongue dancing over his with such skill as to weak his knees. His mind was silent for the first time in his life; desire was all he had now, his body moving of its own accord.
“Take me to bed,” Elizabeth panted against his lips as they parted. “Take me to bed. Cease this hesitation. I want you, all of you, and I grow impatient.”
They stumbled to the bed in a tangled embrace, Elizabeth meeting the edge of the bed with a thud. She threw herself backwards, quickly moving up the bed so she lay once more on the pillows. He caught the hem of her nightgown, tugging it upwards. She only nodded breathlessly as he dove between her legs, his tongue meeting that sweet nectar once more.
Her fingers were tight in his hair, tugging him closer as her moans filled the air. They sounded even sweeter now, for there was not a soul on earth who could bring Darcy to ask her to be quiet. He would take every sound and commit it to memory.
“Oh, my…” she whimpered, her legs spasming beneath his splayed palms. “More, love, more, please!”
He possessed no skill, only enthusiasm, but he recalled that dreadful book making mention of the clitoris, a small bundle of nerves that provided a woman with the greatest pleasure. He located it with his togue, feeling the intimate rise of flesh, and swirled over it with purpose. Elizabeth bucked against his mouth, her cries growing louder.
Suddenly, her back arched, her fingers clawing at his hair with such ferocity he winced, though his ministrations did not slow. Her ragged breaths replaced blissful cries, and she pulled him away from her. He stared up at her, his heart hammering as he feared her disapproval.
“Oh,” she panted, staring down at him with awe. “Oh, my word. It is too much, my love. What…what was that?”
“I am no expert.”
“And yet you seem to know what to do far better than I. How?”
