Page 45 of Desired By Mr Darcy
“I…I was given a book.”
“A book? By who?”
“I do not wish to speak of that wretched book. It was a gift from Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“May I see it?” Elizabeth asked mischievously. “You know I am awfully fond of books.”
“It is not fit for a woman’s eyes.”
“Then I should like to see it all the more,” she said.
He could not help the laughter that escaped him. He looked forward to showing his wife those sinful pages. He imagined her curled up against him, his face buried in her neck as she chose what she would like him to do to her. He would be her humble servant, enacting whatever she chose.
“My sweet, darling Elizabeth.”
He pressed a kiss to her thigh, before rising and pulling down her nightgown. She let out a little noise of impatience.
“Let me touch you. Let us discard these clothes, and be bare before one another.”
He nodded, turning onto his back and fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers hastily. He could not wait to be free of the restriction, his manhood straining against the fabric of his breeches most painfully. He shoved them down, kicking them away. He stared down at himself, his penis crude and ungentlemanly. He wished to dive beneath the covers and hide himself. How could he present himself to Elizabeth in this manner?
When he turned to her, her nightgown had vanished. His Elizabeth lay before him, a bare temptress. He could not help but devour her body with his eyes; she seemed to have been painted by an artist. She had complimented his masculinity; she was the very picture of femininity. She was all soft curves and perfectly round breasts. Her thighs pressed together at his inspection, her hands reaching to cover herself.
“No,” he said. “No, do not hide.”
“Come,” she beckoned.
He joined her on the bed, once more lying side by side. They were atop the covers, the gentle light of the fire and the dying lamp casting their bare bodies in a glow that made her seem magical. How could such a creature have consented to be his wife?
“May I touch you?” she whispered. “Please?”
“Yes.”
“You must tell me if I am asking too much of you,” Elizabeth whispered. “I do not know how a proper wife ought to behave.”
“You are my wife. My wife, whose husband longs for her touch.”
She laughed in delight, kneeling before him with a contended smile. He could not help but admire the swell of her breasts, his hand rising to caress her. Her eyes fluttered closed as he caressed her perfect form, her perfectly pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.
“Husband, you distract me. I believe it was my turn.”
He lowered his hand, allowing it to fall to his side as Elizabeth’s gaze once more swept over his body.
“This is what I felt, then,” she stated, trailing a finger down his stomach and towards his erection, which was flushed and angry at being teased for so long. “Does it hurt, to be like this?”
He shook his head, biting his lower lip as her fingers grazed ever lower. He closed his eyes as she finally touched him where he ached for her. His breath shuddered from him in great gasps as his new wife gently explored that most intimate part of him.
She curled her hand around him, and he saw stars.
“I must confess,” she whispered, “the night I watched you. I went to my bed, and I placed my hand between my legs, wishing it was you.”
“Oh,” he hissed, thrusting helplessly upwards as release threatened him. “Elizabeth, my Lizzy, you must stop, I will embarrass myself.”
She snatched her hand away.
“What?”
“When a man reaches his…pinnacle…he cannot recover quickly. I wish to make love to my wife, if she would have me.”
