by Beth Massey
With his voice stilled by exhaustion, Lizzy had time to reflect. The first thought that came to her was, ‘Hmm poking. I quite like it!’
Hoping she would be able to nap as well, she lay in his embrace and considered all that had changed this day. This enchanted cottage he had created added to her feeling of contentment. The proof of his ardent love was obvious in so many details—most particularly in his dedications. The agony of Hunsford seemed firmly behind them. A sigh punctuated where her thoughts went next. Finally securing his agreement—with the power of her bare bottom—to make love with her, transformed the sigh into a smirk. The experience had been so very… beyond her expectations. The memory of how much he had loved devouring her peaches and raspberries caused her to chuckle. As she closed her eyes to slumber, her expression settled into a smug smile, but a moment later they popped back open. ‘Did he really have a helmet?’ This prompted a much more important question… ‘who had told him it only hurt once?’
That thought prevented her from following Will into sleep. Her mind became a jumble of dread, determination, doubt and desire; all succeeding in disrupting her ability to doze. Her alliterative musings settled into deciding how best to accomplish marriage without her parents becoming suspicious of the need for speed. Now that she had sampled the physical pleasures of being Mrs Darcy, she needed to make that state her reality as quickly as possible.
The tour of Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle would not be concluded for five days, and then it would be another four days before she arrived back in Hertfordshire. An interview with her father, as well as one for Will, must be accomplished immediately upon her return. Indeed, Papa was the secret to their success. Convincing him to expend his energy toward managing her mother’s nerves would be crucial to accomplishing her goal. So often, he did not seriously attempt to rein her in; his enjoyment was mocking his wife. Elizabeth was certain Mrs Bennet’s natural inclinations would cause her to insist on an elaborate wedding, the better to flaunt her newly acquired importance to all the prominent families of the county. That would take too long.
Agony at the thought of not being here, in this cottage, in this bed, with him within a month threatened to bring back the tears from earlier in the day. The enormity of her task, and the potential for disgrace if she appeared too eager, caused her to return to fretting.
If she told her father of the proposal in April, of both their mutual attraction and their disagreement it might speed things along. His demeaning words at Hunsford about her family and Jane and Bingley should not be revealed—that would unduly complicate the issue. Instead, she would stress the conflict over Wickham as grounds for her refusal. Still, her disclosure must be crafted to protect Georgiana’s privacy while at the same time overcoming her papa’s natural prejudice toward haste.
Her ploy with her mother would be to stress the bragging rights she would gain among the four and twenty families around Meryton. The prominence of having a daughter marry a man who was both rich and the master of a great estate was sure to please Mrs Bennet. Then she would switch her tactics and stress Mr Darcy’s desire to marry quickly. She would use that incentive to persuade her mother of the need to keep in the good graces of her future son-in-law. If she wanted to visit Pemberley with any regularity, she should be encouraged to allow him his say. Lizzy again chuckled to herself as she thought of how to prepare Will for her mother’s vulgarity about his wealth, and became aroused while planning an appropriate special reward she could promise for his good behaviour.
The concept of employing sexual favours was new to her, and prompted her to look at Will to confirm her changed reality. He had pulled himself from her in order to be more comfortable and was now sprawled on his stomach, arms stretching out with little thought to sharing the space with her… so much for his concern for her comfort. The idea pleased rather than angered. There was something so natural about his action rather than the studied approach he had taken to orchestrate her first seduction. As she smiled at his sleeping form, his backside beckoned to her—so firm, so muscled—no fruit came to mind for what lay before her, but nibbling still seemed exciting. His travelling and their activity must have been the cause of the poor dear’s exhaustion. His part had been quite strenuous. He had seemed to demand she be passive and pampered as he poked her. Recalling their activities of a few minutes earlier, the same smile of delight from earlier crept back.
Lizzy’s desire to touch him grew stronger by the minute. ‘I could touch his hair without disturbing him,’ she thought. ‘He has such nice hair. It is delightfully messy and there is so much of it. From the first moment I met him, it seemed to beg me to run my fingers through it. I wonder what Caroline Bingley would have done, if I had indulged my desire while at Netherfield?’ Lizzy, once again, laughed quietly at the visual image of Miss Bingley’s shocked look had Miss Eliza taken liberties with her Mr Darcy… and what would she think of the liberties Lizzy had taken today with the object of her pursuit.
She was making herself giddy with her thoughts. She caressed his hair, and then with the lightest touch she followed the same path he had as she moved down his back to caress his tight buttocks. Perhaps she could devise a way to allow him to be passive and pampered. The giggle her musing elicited was impossible to suppress.
Darcy heard her laugh, and felt her touch. He was aroused but disoriented. Then he remembered where he was, and what had happened just before he fell asleep. This quixotic being was once again astounding him. When wives were discussed at his club, they were most always described as begrudging in their wifely duties. Of course, the information was usually given as a justification for a husband taking a mistress. This first time with Lizzy had informed him she was far from reluctant. Now he was experiencing an Elizabeth bold enough to take the initiative. He marvelled at his good fortune, and though he could not see her face, he determined her desire was for a second go.
It was imperative they return soon to the house, but he decided to indulge her one more time. As he lay there feigning sleep, he enjoyed her stroking and felt the stir of appreciation growing beneath him. Perhaps it was that movement that told her he was awake and enjoying her caresses. She quickly became less tentative, kissing, nibbling and licking his bottom just as he had hers—though no comparison to a fruit was offered. Instead she whispered close to his ear, “I have never seen a rear so raw.” Once again, he heard her delightful laugh, but he thought it best to suppress his own. “I mean a rear so rare.” As he listened to her continued giggling, he wondered whether the realization she had never seen any other man’s bottom… neither raw nor rare had entered her consciousness and prompted her hilarity.
Lizzy became bolder as she stroked his thighs and calves, always following her finger tips with her lips. Next, he gasped in wonder as she threw in an innovation not copied from him. She loving stroked his feet and kissed each one of his toes. He was glad he had washed them thoroughly as he had planned his strategy for seduction under the waterfall. As her lips caressed his heel, she sighed and said, “Oh, my poor Achilles, I will protect your vulnerable spot with my kisses. Neither Paris nor Wickham’s slings and arrows of outrageous fortitude will be able to penetrate the armour of my love.” She looked up to ensure he was not angry with her for mentioning Wickham.
In fact, he smiled at her words and again stifled laughter. This time in forming her exuberant compliment, she had managed both a mixed metaphor and the use of ‘fortitude’ instead of the bard’s ‘fortune.’ He had never before noticed her propensity to emulate Mrs Malaprop. He responded with, “Luscious Lizzy, I thank you for your promise of protection. I must now find an appropriate way to reward you for your sensuous shield.”
Her laughter tinkled once again and she said, “I am sure you will think of something. Before, you seemed very wise in the ways of deflowering or was it devouring me.” As her fingers snaked back up his flanks, she massaged his muscles and commented on their promise of strength. Next, her hand dipped between his thighs. This act sent him beyo
nd critiquing her style. He shivered in anticipation of her coming in contact with what was between his legs and growing proportionately with every inch of terrain she conquered. He decided to aid her in her exploration and turned over and watched as she observed his groin—her eyes dancing with delight. His arousal was standing erect and proud, and the sight of it caused a decisive look to cross her face. Darcy’s breath hitched in expectation and wondered exactly what this minx had in store for him next.
He knew from a chess game they had played at Netherfield that Elizabeth was not one to signal her next move. Instead, she blithely continued her exploration and was not immediately drawn to his poking tool. He wondered if she would be annoyed if he forced her hand to do her duty as she had his. Her fingers moved to the top of his head. She separated a lock in her fingers, as her mouth nibbled his ear. He heard her murmur her intent of taking by force a lock of his hair before she left Derbyshire. She swore to keep it in a locket she had and wear it always. Her husky whisper teased his senses. “The locket will hang between my breasts.” With her hands she illustrated her next words. “It will be allowed to graze my bosom at all times and my raspberries will ripen with desire from the feel of it—just as they are now in anticipation of the next time you suckle there.” He watched breathlessly as she caused her nipples to harden. Her next words brought his attention back to her intent. She spoke Pope’s verse from The Rape of the Lock to illustrate her desire:
“From the fair Head, forever and forever
The meeting Points the sacred Hair dissever!”
He sighed in contentment as he imagined the closeness of her as she carried out her theft. A lock of her hair would be a wonderful talisman of their afternoon of pleasure.
Her investigation of his nipples brought him back to her love making. Soon after her feasting began, she had him panting. Gentle kisses claimed them; and once she had run her tongue around their edges, she mischievously proclaimed them scrumptious with a show of teeth. All in all, she seemed less afraid to inflict a bit of pain to enhance his pleasure. His arousal must have appreciated the discomfort she dispensed as it moved in appreciation, and he moaned with real delight. Still, he had the presence of mind to chuckle when she likened them to currants as she studied the effects of his ministrations on his smaller, darker version of what on her were much larger, dimpled and rosy red. A smile of satisfaction took over her face as she stopped for a few seconds and just peered at him with what appeared to be pride. The resumption of her exploration saw tiny hands as the forward guard and a lovely pink tongue bringing up the rear. His enjoyment of her tactile tour was reflected in the quiet guttural sounds that came from his throat.
When she finally arrived at his beckoning member, her actions were undaunted. She began to wantonly caress it with strokes, and even, wonder of wonder, kisses and licks. Was this the same woman who had been mortified when he had stopped to smell the petals of her sex? All modesty gone and with wide-eyed wonder she asked, “Will, what are these drops of milky moisture coming from your…?” At a loss for the right word, she bent her head and lapped up the liquid much like Bice lapped up cream. “It tastes salty.”
First he moaned then marvelled at her audacity. The gentlemen of his acquaintance had never told wedding night tales of brides who were so bold. Perhaps, the lucky ones were those husbands who never commented on the love making of their wives. As he recollected, they were the ones who stood quietly on the sidelines and smiled mysteriously. He said, “That, my love is anticipation of being inside you.”
“Anticipation.” She fingered the slit at the end of his member and gave him a reflective look. Her inquisitiveness caused him to wonder whether women gossiped about sexual activity the way men did. She gave him a beaming smile as she continued, “I quite like that image. I also secrete something at the thought of you coming inside to stroke me. Just the thought of you touching or poking me there causes me to become very wet.”
Her verbal description made his ‘anticipation’ flow as he visualized encountering her fluids. He was moved from his moisture laden reverie when she uttered a joyous proclamation. “Eureka, I have uncovered something.” She tentatively rubbed his stones before gently squeezing. He lay there anticipating her exploring them with her tongue and felt them tighten in pleasure when she did. Again, she amazed him with her boldness. She lifted her head and confessed in wide-eyed wonder, “You must explain these large walnut-like appendages you have hidden here. Whatever they are, they seem to delight in being fondled and kissed.”
Will’s enjoyment of what she was doing made Lizzy feel powerful. She had heard his sounds of pleasure increase in frequency and volume as she had explored his beautiful body. While tracing the trail of hair down, down his torso—her fingers stopped inches from what it so artfully pointed toward. She experienced the familiar spasm connected with her own needs, while wondering what his warning signs were that something good was coming. It was despicable that young ladies were not prepared with real information for their first time. Too often, they were merely told it was a duty that must be endured.
Soon, she put the culmination of her plan in motion and climbed astride Will. Then she hesitated, uncertain what to do next. Seeming to sense her indecision, he grasped her bottom and guided her motion. Once a rhythm was established, he slid his hands from her rear to pull her forward and give a kiss filled with hunger. After a significant amount of tongue duelling, he pulled away, captured her eyes and spoke. “Ride me… ride me hard my luscious sensual jockey… take your stallion over the edge. A part of her wanted to giggle, but another found the metaphor exciting. The next thing she knew he began to pant from exertion as though he was indeed racing. She was not much of a horsewoman but she increased her speed and appropriately dug her heels into his flanks.
Now as they galloped together, she delighted in the feeling of common purpose and shared pleasure. Her bouncing bosom seemed to be demanding attention. Deciding to demonstrate for him what she was craving, she began pinching and teasing her nipples while he watched with a decidedly lustful leer. Matching his leer she dangled her torso close to his mouth in invitation. He took the bait and began tasting her raspberries as they rocked—she shivered with desire and signalled her approval when she met his gaze. For the last few minutes of their race both became lost to wave after wave of erotic sensations. His eyes slipped from her scrutiny and rolled back in his head in lustful abandon. Both their bodies tightened in preparation for the finish line. In those final moments, he met her movement with ferocious thrusts of his own. A cascade of convulsive shudders signalled her release. She was followed into this indescribable oblivion—he had now provided for her twice—by a second occurrence of a feral moan and the accompanying explosion within. Before he moved to disengage, she laid her cheek on his chest and listened as the rapid beating of his heart slowed. This feeling of shared completion was a warm reward for the months of uncertainty that had happened since meeting this man.
Even through the curtains they could tell the sun was getting low in the sky. They shared a final cuddle, and then rose to dress and get back to the house and the inevitable questions.
“There is water in the pitcher, and soap and towels on the shelf in the alcove. You should wash away all, eh… traces of our activity. I wish there was time for me to carry you up to the waterfall and take you in for a dip and a shower under the cascade, but alas that will have to wait for another time. Hopefully, we will be back here in a month, and can indulge in a bit of bathing in the pool before it gets too cold.”
A look of panic crossed her face. She said, “Oh, Will, I do not know how to swim. I think I would be too fearful to go in. How deep is this pool?”
His lascivious smile, and twinkling eyes captivated her. “You need not worry. I plan to have you firmly attached before we enter the water.” Once again he was gifted with her mischievous laugh in acknowledgement of his word play.
“Oh, so you plan to have a particular attachment in place… or should I say perpend
icular attachment to me when you introduce me to the pleasures of your pool.”
“Lizzy, I am unable to determine whether it is love making that tied your tongue before or whether you were purposely emulating Mr Sheridan’s most famous character as an enhancement to the throes of rapture.”
“Oh, so you found the use of my tongue inadequate?”
“Hardly.”
“Right you are. My tongue definitely made you harder.”
He gave her a shocked mocking glare. “I am quitting this banter and admitting defeat.”
“Ah, yes, feet. My tongue was quite enamoured with your feet.”
His laughter was loud and hearty, and he picked her up and kissed her hard. When he put her down he said, “I love you, you wild, wanton woman. Make haste. Get yourself clean and dressed. We must get back as your reputation is at stake.”
Elizabeth moved to the dressing table and sat and stared at herself with a perplexed look. How was she to fix her hair with only two hairpins? As she brushed out her hair, he stood behind her looking lovingly at her reflection. His fingers played with her locks and soon he had separated a curl from the others. He opened the drawer and found the pair of scissors he knew to be inside. Once he snipped the curl, he laid it aside and proceeded to cut one from his own head. He wrapped both locks in pieces of the paper engraved with their cottage in the corner.
