And then he was gone. Elizabeth tried to steady her breath, but here in the dark, she couldn't quite calm herself. She exhaled shakily, and on each inhale the wet fabric clung to her breasts, driving her wild.
"What a beautiful sight," her husband's low voice said. "Come here, wife."
And then he pulled her arm, quickly and expertly, until she tumbled forward. He grabbed her again, moving her hips, her legs, her limbs, until she found herself laying across his lap, her face turned sideways on the leather cushion, and her backside propped up in front of him.
"Is this how Mr. Mills held Mrs. Mills?"
Elizabeth bit her lip. "Yes."
She felt his one, rough hand on her naked calf. He trailed his fingertips up to her knee, up the back of her thigh. She realized as he teased her with this light touch, he also pulled her gown up. Cold air hit her backside and she knew she was exposed to his view, to his touch.
All Elizabeth could hear was the sound of her blood rushing in her ears, her shaking inhalations and exhalations. She shifted, suddenly anxious. Would this hurt? Would he be gentle? Cruel?
And which would she prefer?
She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed in anticipation. And then, Mr. Darcy's hand moved between her legs, finding her core.
"So hot and wet, ready for me. I love how your body is always ready for my cock, my love."
Elizabeth moaned as he pushed one finger delicately inside her. He had done this on their wedding night, preparing her for her first time. But he had not touched her quite so intimately since.
And tonight, he was different. Rougher. Faster. Within seconds he found a spot—the perfect spot—and her legs began to shake.
"That's it, sweet Lizzy. Do you like your husband touching you like that? Are you a naughty girl who wants me to play with her quim?"
Elizabeth pressed her face hard into the cushion. He had two fingers inside her now, both magically rubbing again and again against that spot until she was so wet she could hear herself, hear his hand moving in and out of her.
"I asked you a question, Mrs. Darcy."
And then—suddenly—his hand left her and came down out of nowhere and spanked her. Hard.
Elizabeth's entire body jerked forward. Mr. Darcy's left hand was suddenly there, on her back, holding her firmly against his lap.
Oh, Elizabeth thought. Or said. Maybe she cried out. Her mouth was open, but had anything come out of it? Anything intelligible, at any rate?
Oh my Lord, that hurt, she thought.
But before she could focus on where her Mr. Darcy had spanked her, his fingers were inside her again. She barely had time to focus on the quick bloom of pain before it was fading, and all she felt was her pleasure, rising.
That, and Mr. Darcy's hand, firm on the small of her back.
"What—what did you say?"
"Be more respectful, Mrs. Darcy."
Elizabeth's thoughts whirled. What did he mean. "What—what did you say, Mr. Darcy? Sir?"
"Good girl."
She was rewarded by his wicked, magic fingers. They moved from inside her to her bud, pressing against it, swift and delicious. Now she did moan, her hips twisting and rising of their own accord.
"Yes, Sir, yes," she panted, bringing her hands in front of her, trying to press down on his hand to reach her pleasure faster.
"You're a quick study, my love. And greedy. What a sweet, greedy lover you are. You want to come, don't you?"
Elizabeth groaned. She couldn't answer, couldn't do anything but lay there, a prisoner to what he was doing to her body.
"But not yet. You wrote ten pages about your adventures in the woods. Ten pages of secrets. More than ten days when I could have been pleasuring you, disciplining you, doing everything you dreamed of and more—"
Slap!
His right hand hit her again, this time on the other cheek. She cried out—his name, this time—then Sir.
Slap, slap!
"That's four." Mr. Darcy's voice was low, breathless. His cock felt bigger and harder than ever before. "Shall I actually spank you now?"
"What?" Elizabeth said. What had he been doing up until now?
"I was just letting you become accustomed to my touch. To this," he said. "Now, let us begin."
And then he spanked her, for the fifth time, hard.
"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth cried, her eyes filling with tears. That hurt. That hurt. Her mouth was still open, gasping, the left side of her buttocks stinging. Then he hit her again, and again.
Six. Seven. Eight.
But Elizabeth soon realized, he never spanked the same flesh twice. He moved to her upper thighs. The resounding sounds of his hand on her flesh filled the room. Up, and down, left and right.
And then, with a curse, he moved her, and then he wasn't under her anymore, and then he was behind her—
And then he was inside her, slamming in to the hilt.
"Oh, God!" Elizabeth cried. She was on all fours now, on the couch.
Still blindfolded, her entire world was narrowed down to this: to his hands on her hips. To his cock, deep inside her. To the momentary pain when he bottomed out, but then—oh then—the pleasure as he pulled out slowly, then pushed in again.
And again.
And again.
"Lizzy, you make me lose control," he growled.
Mr. Darcy set up a steady pace, moving inside her so fast and hard she began to cry. It. Felt. So. Good.
He felt so good.
And everywhere he had hit—the pain was gone. Instead, her flesh felt tender, heated, alive.
"Is this what you wanted, wife? To know I can't refuse you anything?"
Elizabeth sobbed, on the verge of coming.
He moved faster, and she began to shout. She dropped down, burrowing her face in the cushion, screaming in pleasure. Then slap! Nine, ten.
Eleven, twelve.
"Yes," Elizabeth whispered.
"You want more?" His voice dark and on edge, from somewhere high above, behind her.
"Yes," she sobbed.
And then he tightened his grip, spanked her hard on her right side, five more times before reaching around to her bud. He fucked her and teased her, and then he bent his great, heavy body over her, and whispered in her ear:
"Come for me. Now."
And on the next thrust, she did, her eyes rolling back in her head, her voice crying his names, all his names.
Mr. Darcy. Darcy. William. I love you.
And then he was on her, pressing her into the cushions, still fucking her and telling her, over and over, that she was beautiful, and perfect, and the love of his life.
And that he'd make her come ten more times tonight.
Elizabeth
After they recovered, Darcy slipped the blindfold from her face.
There was a question in his eyes. A hesitancy. Finally he said, "Are you alright?"
Elizabeth couldn't help it. Tears began to fill her eyes—then she saw how devastated her husband instantly became.
"No, my love, no—I was only crying because that was—that was beyond wonderful."
Darcy stopped, drew back, and then began to laugh.
"You are a complicated woman, Mrs. Darcy." He kissed her, softly this time.
"As are you, Sir," Lizzy whispered back.
She kissed him, then marveled in her own daring as she climbed up on his lap, moving as Mrs. Mills had done. Darcy seemed to like it, because he did that wonderful growling noise, deep in his throat, and then moved her hips against his.
Amazingly, he began to grow hard again.
"I want you. Like this," she whispered.
His answering smile was all she ever needed.
"I'm taking you back to our rooms first," he said.
Darcy led her back to their chambers, moving them swiftly and silently through the shadowed halls. They'd made it through the great hall and up the stairs, but right before they reached the upstairs landing, Elizabeth fell.
She'd cried out, expecting a h
ard jolt once she landed—instead, he caught her. Darcy's strong arms rescued her, lifted her up.
"Shh," he soothed her, kissing her forehead as he carried her toward their bedchambers.
He seemed to decide that he liked her there, in his arms, at his mercy, so he carried her the rest of the way.
When they reached their chamber's doors, he set her down and she waited, expectant and compliant and breathless, for him to open the door. But instead, he pushed her, suddenly, up against the wall. He grabbed both her wrists in one hand, raising them up above her head, and she found herself suspended and awaiting his touch.
"What are you doing?" she whispered. "Anyone could walk by and see us here."
Her breasts ached against her chemise. Her body ached, her skin felt heated, and she moved her thighs together in frustration.
"Darcy," she moaned, as he just stood there, studying her. "What are you doing?"
And then he pressed himself against her, swift and fast. They were both fully clothed again, but it felt as though they were naked. She could feel his erect manhood on her stomach, feel its heat like a brand on her skin.
Darcy bent down, running his nose along her cheek, the rough scratch of his grown-out beard painful and delightful, all at the same time.
"I'm imagining you tied up, your hands just like this, in our bed," he murmured, kissing her cheek, then her neck, then her chest. "Do you want me to tie you up, and kiss you all over your perfect body?"
Elizabeth had closed her eyes, but she soon realized that when she did not answer, all of his touches, his kisses, even his cock—they all went away.
She'd opened her eyes to find him studying her, unsmiling, hard as a rock—and too far away from her body.
She licked her dry lips. "Yes," she said. But before she could say more, he'd somehow gently but firmly pushed her to her knees.
"I told you what would happen if you licked those plump, pink lips again tonight." His voice was low, strained. "You've held this in your hand before, darling."
Suddenly his manhood was there, directly in front of her face. She could not help but admire the thick, plum-shaped head. She remembered how it had felt when he'd led her hand there, in their bedroom: the hot, soft skin that somehow covered what felt like a thick rod inside.
"Yes," Elizabeth said. She could not…people did not…put it in their mouths, did they?
But, Mr. Darcy had done that to her, hadn't he? On more than one occasion. He had spread her legs, despite her wild blushing, and kissed her gently at her core, making her wet. Making her ready for him.
But this. This.
"Do you want my cockhead in your pretty mouth, Elizabeth?"
She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. They were in the public hallway. Anyone could come, at any time.
"Don't lie to me."
"Yes," she admitted, almost sobbing. "But I don't know how—"
"Say, 'I want to suck on your cock, husband.'"
Elizabeth glanced up at his burning blue eyes. "I want—" She couldn't do this. Could she? Did she want this? Did she want to become…wanton? And wild? And taste him?
"I want—your cock—in my mouth. Husband."
And then there it was, like a treat, like a punishment. He pressed the thick head to her lips, rubbing it against her soft flesh.
"Kiss it," he growled.
And she did. She pursed her lips and kissed it, and was amazed at how suddenly easy it was. At how much she liked it. She opened her lips, just a little, and sucked like she had sucked on his thumb—and was rewarded by Darcy's sudden intake of breath, by a curse that fell from his lips like gold.
She collected those naughty words like treasure.
I made him say that, she thought, sucking harder. He was smooth, warm and salty. I made him lose control.
I want more. I want more of all of it, she realized.
She opened her mouth, and he pushed forward.
"Yes, just like that, sweetling. God, Lizzy, you're wonderful. You're perfect. Yes—God—your hot little mouth—"
And then he was inside her. His cock, his prick, his huge manhood—she couldn't take him all! He surged inside, then back out, and she tingled all over at what they must look like. This is what he did inside her, between her legs.
And now he was—she knew the word he had said—he was fucking her mouth.
Elizabeth groaned, and then he echoed it.
"You're being such a good girl," he said, breathing hard. She felt his hands go to either side of her face, cradling her. "Open wider. Take more of me, my sweet, dirty little girl."
More?! Elizabeth thought. Her eyes flew open. She had thought him all the way inside of her, but not—it was not even half!
Just as she began to panic, his cock was gone and she was back up and in his arms.
"You amazing creature," Darcy said, kissing her so hard her lips throbbed. She kissed him back. She wanted more.
And so she said it.
"I want more," she admitted.
He laughed as he opened their chamber’s door. He lifted her up and carried her to their bed, dropping her on her back. Darcy followed, climbing up her limbs, ripping down her chemise. His lips found her breasts, sucking and biting so that she writhed and screamed. Then he'd soothe her with kisses that drove every other thought from her mind.
"You'll have it," he finally said. "But first, I want more."
He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up into a sitting position. Before she understood his aim, he'd pulled her clothing up and over her head, and she shrieked and covered her breasts as she sat there, naked.
"Don't hide from me," he'd growled. Then he'd winked. "Unless you're asking to be spanked."
"I'm not!" Elizabeth said. "At least, not until tomorrow."
Darcy grinned and pushed her back down on her back. He grabbed her wrists and held them down, on either side of the bed. When had he stripped off his banyan? Elizabeth gasped, her greedy eyes taking in her husband's perfectly formed body.
"The candles are still lit," she gasped as he spread her legs and began kissing his way down her body.
"Because I want to see you," he said, his head now between her legs. He began to lick her at her core, and it was the same—but more—than what he had done before. He was not gentle now. He inhaled her, consumed her. He kissed her the same way he ravaged her mouth. He teased the bud between her legs, pressing harder and harder until she was panting and begging for—something. Anything.
"You want to come," he growled. "Say it. Beg me to let you find your release."
Elizabeth groaned. He was right. She wanted it—she wanted it now! But somehow, she refused to say it.
"No," she said, her voice thick with desire. "I won't beg."
She couldn't ignore the secret glee inside her: what would he do now?
He froze.
Then Darcy sat up, one finger sliding inside her. She watched, awe-struck, as a wicked grin spread across his face.
"I'm glad you won't beg, Lizzy," he finally said, as her hips lifted and begged in their own, silent way. "Because now I get to make you. All night long."
Elizabeth
Darcy was gone when she awoke.
Elizabeth stretched, slowly moving her body and discovering soreness in new and secret places. Darcy had kept her awake for hours. After her first introduction to being spanked, he had moved her on top of him. She clenched her thighs and shut her eyes, lost in the memory.
She did not know how large most men were, but when she was astride Darcy it had bordered between pleasure and pain. Her knees could barely touch the mattress, she was so petite and he so…big.
Everywhere.
But he had wrapped his hands around her hips, moving her when she could not move herself. She had felt off-balance, out of control—and then he took control. Rough, eager, his bottom lips clenched between his teeth, he had—
"That's a lovely smile. What are you thinking about?"
Elizabeth opened her eyes to discover Darcy, b
anyan open, his naked chest drawing her eye—as well as the tray with food and steaming tea. He set it down on the side table and climbed into bed next to her.
"I was thinking that, all my life, I have been terrified of horses."
Darcy raised one eyebrow. "If you had given me a hundred guesses, I would not have been able to name 'horses' as the subject of your current thoughts."
Elizabeth turned in his arms, smiling and letting her nose brush lightly against his. "Well, that is only background to my real musings."
Darcy kissed her, soft and sweet on her cheek. His right hand moved down to grab her backside, kneading it softly. She was amazed; where he had spanked her did not hurt the next day.
"And those real musings are?"
"That you, Sir, have done the impossible: you have taught Elizabeth Bennet how to ride."
Darcy chuckled, a dark, delicious sound, though he did not raise his head from her neck. Indeed, he lowered it, kissing her breasts, her stomach, then urging her onto her back.
"It was my pleasure. Though if you are interested in riding, I believe there are a number of positions we can explore."
Elizabeth's eyes widened, both at his words, his smile, and his manhood as he slowly pushed inside her.
"Sore?" he said, moving gently.
"Yes," she admitted. "But don't stop."
Mr. Darcy kissed her, slowly and sweet. "Never. I could never stop worshipping you, my love. I knew you were the perfect partner for me, as a partner and a helpmate. But my darling Lizzy, I never could have imagined we would be so perfect for each other, in the light of day and the dark of night."
Elizabeth didn't need to smile, didn't need to speak. Her eyes said everything that was in her heart. And then, as her husband gently made love to her, her body said it, as well.
"I love you, Mrs. Darcy," her husband said, watching her as she came apart in his arms.
When Lizzy could speak again, she lay her head on her chest and said, "I love you, too, Mr. Darcy. The dark and the light—I love all of you."
Mr. Darcy's Secret Desires: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 6
