Page 47 of Desired By Mr Darcy
Elizabeth
As the sun rose on her first morning as Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lizzy hummed happily in her husband’s embrace.
“Good morning, my love,” he said, his voice rumbling through him, vibrating against her cheek.
She smiled, snuggling closer as she pressed a kiss to the soft hair of his chest.
“Good morning. Must we rise?”
“It is early yet,” he said softly. “Though we must leave by ten at the very latest if we are to make the inn by nightfall.”
She groaned.
“I should like to stay here, in this bed, forever.”
“Once we are safely arrived at Pemberley, we do not need to leave our chambers for as long as you wish,” he promised, kissing her shoulder. “In fact, I insist upon it.”
They had spent the night tangled in one another, hands and lips exploring as they grew more comfortable with one another. Lizzy was not sure how she would ever do anything else; reading, writing, even her beloved walking seemed utterlyboring compared to the delicious time spent exploring her new husband.
Her body was pleasantly sore, muscles aching as she stretched out like a contended cat. The covers slipped down as she did so, and she did not miss Fitzwilliam’s gaze on her chest. She smiled, rolling over and kissing him soundly.
There was a knock at the door, and they both groaned at the interruption.
“Good morning, sir, ma’am,” Darcy’s valet’s voice came through the door. “I am afraid we must begin readying for the journey.”
“Very well,” Darcy called out. “A moment, please, and see that Mrs Darcy’s lady’s maid attends to her.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I hate you,” Lizzy mumbled against his neck. “You ought to have told them to leave us alone.”
He laughed, a sound she savoured all the more for its rarity. He kissed her forehead and prised himself from the bed. Lizzy could not help but admire him as he searched for his clothes; in the daylight, the lines of his lithe body were even more impressive. He turned, his face flushing as he caught her hungry gaze. She could not bring herself to be embarrassed, nor ashamed; indeed, she felt most bold in her adoration for him.
It had been quite unlike her mother’s description. Their marriage bed was no place for sufferance. Fitzwilliam had made every endeavour to see to her own pleasure, and had treated her with such tenderness that she could not even recall why she had ever been afraid.
“Here.”
He offered her the discarded nightgown, and she could see it was badly creased. Her cheeks heated as she recalled throwing it carelessly to the floor.
“Thank you.”
She stood, straightening out the crumpled garment. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt Fitzwilliam’s body press against her, his cock hard against her backside. She shivered, shamelessly pushing against him.
“You are sure we must ready for the day?” she asked, whimpering as his hand trailed over her hip bone and down between her legs. “Fitzwilliam, you mustn’t tease.”
“But you are so fond of teasing,” he murmured darkly into her ears. “We must be quick, but…”
There was another sharp knock, and he groaned.
“A moment, please.”
“Tell them to go away,” Elizabeth moaned, his fingers dancing over that little spot just so. “You are their master, and I their mistress. We are busy.”
Another knock.
“Go away!” Darcy called out, slipping a finger inside her. “We will call when we are ready.”
“I did not mean it!” she gasped, moaning with pleasure as he began his ministrations. “Oh, yes. There, please.”
