Page 48 of Desired By Mr Darcy
“I do not know who I am,” he whispered against her ear, his hand cupping her breast. “I am lost to you, my Elizabeth. I would have you every moment of the day. I would spend my lifetime between your legs. I love you.”
“I love you. Oh, please…”
“May I take you?” he murmured, drawing her earlobe between her teeth and lathing the flesh with her tongue.
She shuddered, arching against him, his finger sliding deeper. She was on fire, every inch of her alive with sensation, her only thoughts mindless wanting, a desire that could be sated only by him.
“Please. God, now, please.”
He slipped his finger from her, and she turned, crushing her mouth to his. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried them to the bed. She felt her back hit the mattress, a breathless laugh escaping as she admired her handsome husband above her. He knelt on the bed before him, grasping his cock firmly in his hand as he stared down at her with a hungry lust in his eyes.
She could not help but stare as he touched himself there, his large hand in a tight fist around his cock. She had never seen him in the daylight, and she found herself staring at this new anatomy. The skin was flushed and red, the head hidden and emerging with each pass of his hand.
He moved forward, no doubt to slip blissfully inside her, but she stopped him with a press of her hand to his forearm.
“What is wrong?” he asked, his brows knitting together with confusion.
“Show me,” she demanded huskily. “I have asked before, and you refused me. You are beautiful, Fitzwilliam. I am in love with every inch of you. Show me how you touched yourself that night.”
He swallowed heavily, and she watched, entranced, as he knelt back on his heels. He seemed to ask silently for consent, and she nodded. She devoured him with her hungry gaze as he inhaled deeply. She had not expected his muscles to move as they did, his body entirely different to hers in every way. He possessed such power, and he was somehow so gentle with her.
She watched as he twisted his hand gently down the shaft of his cock, moving up and down slowly. There was something hypnotic about the way he touched himself—unrushed, savouring the sensation, lost in the quiet pleasure of the moment. Heat pooled low in her belly, drawn not just from the sight but from the intimacy of it—the vulnerability, the raw honesty of desire laid bare before her.
Her own hand drifted between her legs; such a thing was not a sin now, for she was powerless to do anything but touch the part of herself that burned so desperately. Fitzwilliam stared down at her in awe. They continued for a few moments, their pleasure separate, yet entirely entwined.
“I am too close, Lizzy. Please, let me…”
She nodded, and at once he was over her, kissing her desperately as he slipped inside her.
“Yes,” she hissed, locking her legs around him and pushing him closer with the balls of her feet. “Oh, yes.”
It was quite unlike the coupling they had shared last night; in the light of day, she could see every expression on his face. He was beautiful, pleasure moving over his face as he thrusted into her at increasing speed. There was a desperation to him, a need she had not anticipated. She moved with him, her pleasure building as she felt her muscles tighten. She cried out as her release slammed into her. Fitzwilliam’s hips stuttered, his face buried in her neck as he found his own release.
“You are everything to me,” he moaned against her heated skin. “I am yours, Lizzy. Yours.”
She held him tightly as her breathing began to slow, murmuring her own words of love.
∞∞∞
“There you are,” Colonel Fitzwilliam was seated at the breakfast table as they entered. “I was beginning to think the house was empty. I suppose you are quite exhausted after yesterday’s exertions.”
“Cousin, please,” Darcy said in a low voice.
Lizzy frowned, surprised that he would speak to his dear friend in such away. When she looked closer at Colonel Fitzwilliam, she saw a distinct air of mischief about his countenance. She realised, with a blush, that he was commenting on the lateness of their rising – and no doubt the cause of it. She sat down at the table, unable to meet her new cousin’s gaze.
“Mrs Darcy, how are you?” he asked. “Marriage suits you very well. She is simply glowing, is she not, Darcy?”
She flushed; her maid had struggled to brush her hair this morning, and it rather resembled a bird’s nest.
“Thank you, Colonel. I am quite well. I am most eager to depart to Pemberley.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said brightly. “Ah, here come the other newlyweds! Congratulations to you all!”
Bingley and Jane entered the dining room arm in arm, a pleasantly distracted gaze
“Thank you,” Bingley said with a smile.
Lizzy looked to her sister, who could not quite meet her gaze.
