by Delaney Jane
Willing herself brave, she met his dark, intense eyes. “Why?” she whispered.
One of his hands moved, slowly, toward her sex, ghosting along her inner thigh. Elizabeth’s hand tightened over it, but whether she was pushing him toward or pulling him away, she wasn’t sure.
“You want to prove you are not after my money,” he said. He leaned forward, whispering into her ear. “And I want to see how far you are willing to go to do that.” He licked her ear, and Elizabeth gasped.
None at the party seemed alerted. The party went on. Darcy was watching her again, his fingers gently pushing between her thighs, her sex just inches from him.
“Yes or no, Miss Elizabeth.”
She should say no, but she had never been one for doing as she should. Releasing his hands, she pressed her palms into the wall behind her.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice choked.
Above her, he cocked an eyebrow, his mouth quirking slightly. He kicked her feet apart, and then his hand moved upward. He plunged his fingers into her soft folds and into her aching sex. She opened her mouth to scream, but he slapped a hand over her lips, silencing her.
She clutched the front of his jacket to keep from falling, as her legs buckled beneath her. He’d bent, giving himself better access, his eyes intent on hers, as his fingers moved within her. He moved them slowly and deeply, two of them, and then he added a third, her body stretching to fit them. Tears leaked from her eyes, but the pain only added to the pleasure.
“You’re not trying to run away,” he said. “Perhaps your desires are not so unlike my own. Let us see what else I can do to you.”
The slow, almost lazy speed with which he was pushing his fingers into her doubled. Elizabeth threw back her head against the wall, his hand still pressed firmly over her mouth, his fingers making dirty sounds as they slammed into her.
Her hips moved, and she bore down on him, meeting his thrusts. He smiled, and slowed his pace, focusing his movements on thrust, slamming into her deeply and pulling out slowly each time.
She could not have screamed if she wanted to. Her breath was caught in her throat, yet somehow she was panting against his hand, the scent of him under her nose. Daring and curious, she flicked out her tongue, running it against his palm, tasting soap and salt and leather. She was rewarded with his slight gasp, his lips parting.
“Pull out your breasts,” he said, his voice rougher than before.
She stared at him, unable to speak with her mouth covered.
“Do as I say.”
Elizabeth was not good at doing as anyone said, but when he spoke, she obeyed. She released his jacket, standing on shaky legs, and reached into the bodice of her gown, her hands cupping her soft breasts, and she pulled them out. He admired them, his fingers still driving deep into her. And then he dipped his head, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth.
She moaned into his palm, clutching his jacket again, as the moist warmth of his tongue found her nipple. He lathered her nipple and scratched it with his teeth, and then he lifted his head and blew on it, before sucking into his mouth again. He did the same to her other breast.
Elizabeth was panting, grasping at his jacket, pulling him closer, needing more, but not knowing what more was. The slow thrusts and his mouth on her breasts left her shaking with need.
Finally, he lifted his head, and met her eyes. There was a light in his she hadn’t seen there before, a playful desire she was sure was reflected in her own. And then he knelt before her, wrapping her hands around the hem of her gown. His fingers inside her moved slowly, his other hand reaching around to grasp her buttock. And then he leaned forward, his breath cool against her heated, wet sex.
Realizing what he meant to do, Elizabeth covered herself with her gown’s hem. “Wait,” she gasped. He looked up, his hands moving slowly, one inside her, the other palming her ass. “I—I will scream.”
“Is this where you draw the line?”
“No,” she whispered, her face reddening. “If you do not cover my mouth, I will scream. It will draw attention.”
“And you wish not to be heard?”
She shook her head, swallowing past the knot in her throat, her stomach twisting at the sight of his lips so close to her sex. He stood, removing his hands, leaving her feeling empty. He reached into his jacket and pulled from a pocket within a strip of leather and a black cloth.
“Open you mouth,” he said.
She eyed the strap, wary, but did as he told her. He took the cloth, wadded it up, and stuffed it into her mouth, and then he pushed the leather strip into her mouth, pulled the ends around the back of her head, and tied it there. Why he had these in his jacket, Elizabeth could only imagine, and she did imagine, and it only made her ache between her legs.
“Now,” he said, running his thumb over her lips. “Scream as much as you like. No one will hear.”
He knelt again, nipping her breasts as he went. He pushed her legs wider, cupping her ass in his hands, his thumbs pressing the folds of her sex open, and then he put his mouth on her.
Elizabeth screamed, the sound muffled by the gag. She clutched his shoulders, panting, watching his tongue dart out and do wicked things to her. He lapped at her, flicking his tongue against the sensitive nub, and then he drove his fingers into her again.
He kissed her, sucked at her, drew his tongue between her folds and back up to the nub. Elizabeth pulled at him, wanting more. She lifted her leg, draping it over his shoulder, pressing her sex against his mouth.
He groaned, devouring her.
On the floor below them, the ball roared on, the music swelling, feet stomping, laughter rising, bodies moved in flickers of dark against light upon the wooden floor. Elizabeth bucked against Darcy’s mouth, pressing down on his fingers, as they drove in deeper. Something was building in her, from where he touched her it began to spread like fire. It prompted her whimpering and moaning, the gag muffling the sounds.
The fire built until she thought she might explode. And then, she did explode. His fingers drove deep, his mouth planted over her sex, sucking and flicking, and she curled into herself, her fingers digging into Darcy’s shoulders, and then she arched back violently, her hips jerking against him, as she screamed into the gag.
She grabbed at him, pulling him closer, wanting more even as she thought she couldn’t take this a moment longer. Finally he stood and yanked the gag from her mouth.
“Please,” she choked. “I want… I need…”
His breath was ragged. “You do not know what you are asking.” He took his hand from between her legs, and she blushed to see that it was soaking with her juices. He dipped his head and licked his fingers.
“Please,” she said again, reaching for his trousers.
Her grabbed her wrist with a rough hand. “You are asking me to take your innocence, Miss Bennet. You are asking me to fuck you.”
She blushed deeper still and licked her lips.
“If I do, you are ruined. Your reputation as a lady—”
“Damn my reputation,” she shot at him. “You started this game, Mr. Darcy. Finish it.” She swallowed, her face hot. “Fuck me.”
His eyes widened. He growled and spun her around. She pressed her palms against the wall, her legs shaking, as she waited, looking over her shoulder. He opened his trousers, his dark eyes on Lizzy’s, intense and almost frightening. She shivered at the touch of his fingers at her sex once again, but this time she felt the thicker pressure of something hot and hard. She looked around and found his shaft slipping between her buttocks at the same time as he thrust himself forward and into Elizabeth, filling her.
A strangled cry escaped her, and his hand clapped over her mouth again. He froze there a moment, her body stretching to accommodate his size, the pain nearly unbearable. Nearly.
Spurred by some carnal need, Elizabeth pressed back into him, pushing him deeper. He shook, his arms tightening where they held her mouth and hips. He pulled out slightly, and then drove back into her, de
eper. He moved slowly, but it was not what she needed in that moment. She pushed back on him again and again, small movements, but enough so that he began to move in earnest. He stuffed the gag back into her mouth, took her hips in both hands, and pounded into her. She braced herself against the wall, coming off of her feet with each thrust.
Her breasts bounced, heavy and aching. He growled behind her, slamming his hips against her backside, sliding in and out of her with deliciously dirty sounds. His fingers bit into the tender flesh of her hips. Leaning forward, he bit her shoulder, eliciting a scream from her, and then he kissed it, lavishing the bite with his tongue.
Driving himself into her from behind as he was, the head of his shaft stroked, over and over, a most sensitive spot inside her sex. It left her shaking, biting down on the gag, as the fire built again, spreading outward, and finally exploding. She screamed into the gag, her sex clenching tight around him.
He doubled his speed, barely coming out of her before slamming back in, deeper than she thought possible, and then she felt him swell inside her. But then he pulled free and turned away. She leaned against the wall, gasping, and watched as he used a handkerchief to catch the juices spilling from his cock.
Elizabeth wondered what it tasted like.
She turned, leaning back against the wall, and pulled the gag from her lips. Her jaw ached. Her sex throbbed. She would have bruises on her backside for sure.
And she wanted to do it again.
He finished, wiped and tucked himself away, fixing his trousers. Running a hand through his hair, he turned and found a dishevelled Elizabeth watching him. Going to her, he gently tucked her breasts back into her gown, adjusting the bodice. He took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and bent, tenderly wiping at her thighs and sex. He arranged her gown about her legs, and then fixed her curls, taking the gag from her.
She stood, letting him take care, waiting for the guilt and shame to come. When it did not, she wondered what that meant.
When he finished, he cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her lips. His eyes, so dark and intense, were heavy now, satisfied.
He smiled down at her. “You might be the woman that undoes me completely, Miss Bennet. I must be careful around you.”
He leaned forward, lightly kissed the corner of her mouth, and then went downstairs, leaving her alone in the shadows on the landing.
Lizzy stayed a moment longer, replaying the moments since he had walked into the ball in her head. As she recounted the moments on the stairs, her breathing quickened, and she hurried downstairs. She needed to find Jane. This was not something she could keep to herself.
But when she found Jane, she was standing, smiling and talking with Mr. Bingley… and Mr. Darcy.
“Elizabeth!” Jane said. “I have been searching for you. Are you all right?” She asked.
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. He was cool and calm, nothing in his face betrayed what had just happened between them.
She could do that as well, could she not? She smiled at Jane. “I am. Why do you ask?”
“Well,” said Jane, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “You seem breathless is all.”
Lizzy grinned. “Must be all of the dancing. Or,” she looked up at Mr. Darcy. He stared stonily back. “Perhaps it is the company, even if some people are only tolerable.”
The slightest twitch of his lips betrayed the smile he was trying so hard to hide. Elizabeth held his gaze while her sister talked to Bingley.
Yes, Lizzy thought, I could be his undoing.
Chapter Two
Two Pretty People
Jane hated for dear Lizzy to go to so much trouble for her, and she had tried to tell her so all while Elizabeth fussed with Jane’s hair and dress, making sure everything looked perfect.
They hadn’t met the man to move into Netherfield Park yet, but their father had, and he’d given the girls a rather bland and boring account of the man, when their mother had heard it from several others that he was quite handsome, very rich, and sweet as a puppy dog.
Jane had never really been in want of attention from men. From a young age she had always caught them staring at her; the pale hair, the rosy cheeks she loathed, the blue eyes she liked, and the body that became a woman’s too soon.
No, she was never in want of a man’s attention, but never had it been a man like Mr. Bingley.
Handsome, rich, and sweet. She had never met such a man.
So, while everyone else seemed to be going slightly crazy about meeting him; her mother talking about how sure she was that he would want to marry Jane at first glance, Jane had no desire at all to meet the man.
She was not exactly in a rush to see the image of this handsome, rich, and sweet man that she had built up in her head tore down by the reality of him. Either he would be handsome, rich, and cocky, or ugly, rich, and mean. But no one with that much money could be handsome and sweet as well. It just never happened.
So, Jane had gone to the Meryton ball with low expectations, nervous as she always was about big events and holding onto Lizzy’s hand during the carriage ride.
They arrived and the Bennets split up, finding their friends. Jane knew a few women her age from previous balls, and she stood with them, smiling and conversing, wishing she were at home instead.
Lizzy had joined her again by the time everyone in the hall quieted, even the music. Jane caught sight of some pretty people standing in the doorway to which all eyes had turned.
They were pretty, indeed. One was tall and dark, but that darkness looked good on him. There was a couple, obviously married if the lusty looks she was giving the man were any indication, they were not as pretty as the others, but still quite something to look at. It was the last two who stilled Jane’s breath a moment.
Both blond, with bright blue eyes and creamy skin. He was taller and she was curvier, but they looked almost like twins. Beautiful, and sneering.
She was, at least, Jane noticed. The woman looked around her as though this place were beneath her, and already Jane had decided these people were not worth knowing.
The party began moving around the room, meeting people, and they passed by Jane and Lizzy.
Jane met the eyes of the blue-eyed man more out of curiosity at what others called sweet than a real interest in knowing him. But she couldn’t deny that he was even more handsome up close. Beautiful was the right word. And she knew him to be rich; it was all anyone could seem to talk about.
Two out of three.
Sweet, though. She could not determine what made a man sweet just by looking at him, and so, she smiled at him, an inviting warmth she had mastered over the years. The smile that made people want to be near her, even when she didn’t want anyone near her.
At once he grabbed one of her friends, someone he must have already met, and they introduced him to Jane and Lizzy.
She curtseyed to him and he bowed. The others did as well, but Jane only watched Mr. Bingley, looking for the qualities that made others call a grown man sweet as a puppy dog.
He smiled at her. A lot. And he asked if she was enjoying the ball.
“Very much,” she replied.
Beside her, Lizzy was grinning. Jane would have liked to tell her that her interest in Bingley was just curiosity, but Lizzy would never have believed her anyway.
Behind Bingley stood his dark friend and his sister. They seemed equally bored with the ball, making Jane sure that someone who kept close with people like them could surely not be sweet or likable at all.
“Well I’m—” Bingley began, stuttering slightly. “I’m new in town. What do you think of the place?”
“I’m quite fond of Hertfordshire,” said Jane. “I grew up here. It’s not so grand as London, where my aunt lives, but it is quiet and peaceful, if you prefer that kind of life.”
He just smiled, shrugging lean shoulders. He was quite tall. Not as tall as his moody friend, but tall enough that Jane had to crane her neck a bit to meet those blue eyes.
Miss Bingley gave
a small cough. Bingley jumped, and offered Jane another smile.
“Would you care to dance with me tonight?”
That actually seemed a perfect way to gage his personality, so she accepted, and then turned to find Lizzy staring not at her, as she had expected, but at the dark friend- Mr. Darcy. He looked away from her quickly, and Lizzy blinked.
And then she smiled at Jane. “What do you think?”
Jane looked around the room, at the eyes glaring at her a moment before finding Bingley as he made his way through the room. She hated those looks. People—women—always seemed to think that Jane was going to steal all of the men away, like she was a succubus just looking for pretty men.
But if they knew her, really knew her, better than even her dear Lizzy, then they would know how laughable that was. Jane could barely speak to her close friends, let alone met she had just met.
She sighed and smiled at her sister, hiding her discomfort as best she could. “His sister is quite beautiful. And his friends seem pleasant.”
Elizabeth frowned playfully. “His sister is the least of my concern, and I don’t care at all about his friends. What do you think of Mr. Bingley?”
Jane wrung her hands. “He was pleasant.”
Lizzy laughed. “Just once, dear Jane, I would like to hear your real thoughts. The dark ones you keep so well hidden.” Lizzy smiled a little sadly, and then pulled Jane to the food tables.
They ate and drank, and then they danced. Their cards were not full, as there were more women than men, but Jane did not mind sitting out a few times.
When it came time to dance with Bingley, she found him winding his way through the crowd. He stopped before her, the scent of wine on his breath and a twinkle in his eye.
It was a fun dance, very little touching. They did not talk much, but they stared at one another. She couldn’t help it. Those eyes were a ridicules shade of blue, and he just smiled at her. Perhaps what others called sweet was actually stupidity.
