Page 36 of Desired By Mr Darcy
She nodded, and her back bowed as he resumed his ministrations between her thighs. Each swipe of his tongue drove her higher, her fingers clawing the chaise beneath her to try and ground her. She felt as though she were flying and falling all at once, and then…
The tension building within her snapped, her body aflame as sharp pleasure consumed her. She panted, her hands reaching for Fitzwilliam as his tongue upon her sensitive flesh became too much to bear.
He looked up at her with heavy, lust filled eyes. He looked utterly dishevelled, his mouth gleaming sinfully, and she had never been more in love with him than in that moment. He was panting too, and he rested his head upon her stomach.
“Forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” Lizzy asked breathlessly. “No, no more of that. I love you. May I touch you again?”
“We have lingered too long. I fear we will be discovered. Your whimpers were growing increasingly loud, my love.”
She laughed, though she knew at once even that innocent sound was far too loud at this time of night. She pressed her hand to her mouth, her elated giggles still seeping through. Fitzwilliam smiled up at her fondly, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her stomach, before pulling her nightgown down and standing up. She could see that his own problem still persisted, and she reached for him. He turned away, gently taking her wrist and setting her arm back down beside her.
“No, my love. I am quite well. You must return to bed before anyone stirs.”
“I do not want to leave you,” she whispered, sitting up and rearranging her skirts. “I know that I must, but I do not want to. Promise me, once we are married, I will never spend a night alone in our bed.”
“You would share your bed with me?”
“I would share everything with you.”
Chapter Twelve
Darcy
Elizabeth slipped away from the study with a breathless kiss and a whispered goodbye, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room. Darcy remained motionless for a moment, his pulse still thundering in his ears, his breathing shaky and uneven. Then, slowly, he sagged into the chair, running a trembling hand over his face.
He could scarcely comprehend what had just transpired. The silk of her skin still lingered like a ghostly imprint beneath his fingertips; the taste of her, warm and intoxicating, remained upon his lips. She had undone him completely, reduced him to a state of dazed yearning, where every rational thought crumbled beneath the force of his desire.
Yet his body was not yet sated. His arousal still ached, insistent and urgent. He would not - could not - debase himself in a public room again. With a sharp breath, he pushed himself to his feet and strode to the lamp, extinguishing it with a flick of his fingers. The study was swallowed in darkness.
Darcy moved swiftly through the silent halls, his footsteps measured, though his restraint was fraying at the edges. Every brush of his clothes against his skin only served to remind him ofher - of the way her body had yielded to his touch, of the quiet, desperate sounds she had made against his lips. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself forward.
At last, he reached his chambers, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. The latch clicked into place, sealing him in solitude. The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the room, but he paid it no mind. He needed relief. Desperately.
His hands trembled as he undid the buttons of his waistcoat, Elizabeth once more consuming his mind. Elizabeth - how she had looked in the dim glow of candlelight, the flush on her cheeks, the parting of her lips. A groan escaped him, rough and unbidden.
He had never known such exquisite torment.
He had felt so ignorant of her body, knowing little of what brought a woman pleasure. He did not know what possessed him to bury his face between her heavenly thighs, but he had enjoyed it almost as much as she had seemed to. He would spend every moment there if etiquette allowed.
He shed his clothes, slipping beneath the covers. His whole body ached, the tension of being so near release for so long too much to bear. He wrapped a hand around his cock, squeezing tightly. His hand felt coarse and unwelcome as he thought of Elizabeth’s hand, so soft and so gentle, touching him with such reverence. Though inexperienced, she seemed far more confident than him; a siren, luring him to her body. A woman, desiring the man she loved.
He groaned, each movement of his hand bringing him closer and closer to the release he so desperately craved. He was lost to her, her name on his lips as he spilled, her touch burned into his skin, her love carved into his heart.
∞∞∞
The next morning, he woke once more feeling a deep sense of regret. He was drunk with love, it seemed, the setting of the sun stealing his senses. In the cold light of day, he saw the true danger of what had occurred last night. Being alone together was no longer possible, for he could not control himself. That was a lie, of course – he could control himself, and he would never ask anything of Elizabeth that she was not willing to give. Indeed, he was not sure he had actually asked for anything the night before; Elizabeth had made the demands, Elizabeth had held all of the power, and he would have it no other way. He was hers to command.
He allowed his valet to ready him for the day, and he went downstairs for breakfast. The breakfast room was blessedly empty, and he took his coffee in silence as he read the morning news.
“Fitzwilliam?” a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Lizzy,” he rose to his feet at once. “You are awake early.”
“My mother and sister will join us shortly. I thought Colonel Fitzwilliam or Georgiana would be here with you.”
“No, it is just me.”
