Page 8 of Sinister Games

Damn, the kinky thoughts this man inspired!

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I found myself promising in a small, baby-like voice. “And I’m sorry about the cab. I’m still new here and I keep forgetting to look right, not left.”

“We’ll discuss it later. First, I want to get you out of this rain.”

“I was just heading to the museum.”

“Well, let’s see if we can get you there in one piece this time.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask that of you. Really, it’s barely raining now and I promise I’ll look both ways and cross at the crosswalk this time.”

He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head back. “You didn’t have to ask. I’d be honored to escort you to the museum, Elizabeth.”

“Okay,” I answered, as if in a trance. Really, it felt like I was… those eyes of his. They were mesmerizing, especially when you seemed to attract his full attention.

He placed a firm hand against my lower back and began to lead me down The Mall in the direction of the National Gallery. Trafalgar Square was only a few blocks away so it wasn’t worth it trying to get a cab. Besides, I was over cabs for a bit.

As soon as I took a few steps I stopped and looked down in dismay. His beautiful, and probably incredibly expensive, overcoat was dragging along the wet pavement. The man towered over my small frame by at least a foot so it was no wonder his coat was much too long for me.

Twisting my shoulders, I started to take it off.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned.

“But….”

“I said no, Elizabeth.”

“But your coat will be ruined!” I blurted out.

“I don’t give a damn about the coat,” he ground out.

My face fell at his harsh tone. Indecision kept me frozen to the spot.

His mouth lifted at the corner. It wasn’t quite a smile; something told me a man like him didn’t smile often but there was definitely amusement there. “You really are too cute when you pout like that.”

I hadn’t even realized my lower lip had popped out a bit as I gripped the lapels of his coat tighter around my body and tried to think of the polite thing to do.

Just then, he bent and swooped me up into his arms.

“Oh, my God! Wait! You can’t!” I exclaimed as I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold on. Looking down it felt like I was miles away from the ground, he was so freaking tall.

Without answer, he just began to walk in the direction of the museum.

“You can’t think to carry me all the way to Trafalgar Square? It’s too far and I’m too heavy.”

Mr. Darcy scoffed. “You don’t weigh more than a bird. That’s what you are, my little bird.”

It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. His arm was wrapped intimately under my thighs. The tips of his fingers were close to touching the side of my left breast. I couldn’t really feel his touch through the heavy wool coat but just the idea of it was enough to make me want more.

Without even questioning it, I rested my head on his shoulder. If felt natural and right that I would depend on him for protection and help. As I watched the last of the flower beds of St. James’s Park disappear in the distance, I finally asked, “What’s your actual name, Mr. Darcy?”

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