Darcy stopped. “Oh, Lizzy…Elizabeth. It cannot be helped. Shall I withdraw?” Only his swollen manhood suffered no misgivings.
Her decision was the work of an instant. Darcy was perfectly still, and although it continued to sting, Elizabeth willed herself to push down upon his upright member, forcing him deeper within her. She slowly exhaled against the pain, and found doing so beneficial, like breathing against the cramps she occasionally endured during her monthly courses.
Darcy was astonished at her fortitude. She was distractingly tight, and he longed to give himself free rein but continued to remain stoic as she pressed herself onto him.
Elizabeth’s forehead had dropped against his shoulder, but now she looked at him, her deliciously bruised lips forming a line of temper. Her eyes were intense as they met his. “My virginity will be offered to you only once, sir, I think one of us should enjoy the taking of it. Or are you going to just sit there?” A tense smile started to play upon her lips.
His hand slid down to the depression at the top of her derriere as he began thrusting slowly and gently, watching her. Elizabeth closed her eyes, determined to hide any evidence of pain he might see there. She leaned to his face, kissing his firm cheek and then found his mouth. She kissed him to offer encouragement; she kissed him to distract herself.
Once Elizabeth was kissing him, Darcy could not hold his animal desires at bay. His tongue explored her lips as he repeatedly drove himself further inside and gave himself over to wonder and eagerness. This woman was Elizabeth Bennet — now and forevermore, she shall be mine, Elizabeth Darcy. “Elizabeth Darcy,” he repeated aloud between their kisses.
Despite relieving his urges during his bath, he knew taking Elizabeth would not last as long as he hoped — although, undoubtedly, the sooner it was over for her, the better. He ceased to care, and finally thrust with abandon, allowing himself to enjoy her thrilling tightness. She spread her thighs and he had the odd feeling of falling into her, even though he was pushing upward.
Elizabeth, too, was experiencing odd sensations, and she wondered vaguely whether this was akin to riding astride a runaway horse. She was breathless. The pain was easing, and she could feel, from the ardency of Darcy’s kisses that he was giving himself over to pleasure. It seemed the discomfort she felt was lessened if he were more deeply within her, and she squirmed as best she could to open herself further. In a moment, she knew she had done the correct thing. Darcy ended the kiss and began softly calling her, both as Elizabeth and Lizzy, in a most insistent manner in her ear, reverential yet lost to reason.
Quite suddenly, his hands were on her waist, and he pressed her down forcefully as he pushed inside. He growled, “Elizabeth, my god!”, and she could feel his warm seed filling her, then spilling from her as his thrusts continued. She knew he had taken the gratification he needed, and they were now completely husband and wife.
Darcy’s pinnacle ended with one last sharp thrust, and Elizabeth felt it as an awakening, as if his potency unlocked a deeper core of desire lying secretly within her, waiting to be found. The spilling of his seed soothed the stinging of her stretched flesh, and she began stirring herself upon him.
As his wits returned, he realized his member had not slackened — maybe it was a good idea to sate myself before — and his wife seemed to be finding new satisfaction in it. Her panting breaths returned. Given what pleased her before, he knew to suckle her closest breast, tugging at her as he continued rocking her with his hips. Her back arched, her hands buried in his hair, and his lips teased her.
“Fitzwilliam, yes! Oh yes! Please, please…” She became incoherent. With one final flex of her thighs, she impaled herself as completely as possible, shuddered, and rolled her hips against him, slowing until she was still.
Darcy was grinning, although she was entirely unaware of it. Elizabeth’s head was on his shoulder, looking away into space, and she was smiling. Her arms were around his back, embracing him tenderly. She did not notice or respond as his spent member slipped out of her. Darcy realized the evidence of their consummation was now besmirching his lap and the inside of his robe upon which he was still sitting.
“Lizzy?” he whispered, stroking her hair.
“Hmm?”
“Are you well? You are not too much hurt?”
She lifted her head and met his gaze. Darcy was relieved by what he saw. Her expression was eloquent of affection and praise.
“No, Fitzwilliam, I do not think I am much hurt. You were very kind.”
“And you were very generous. Would you ever be willing to do this again? It was not so terribly bad?”
“Dearest…it was not so terribly bad. After you, uh, had your way…as they say, I was greatly soothed, and so…”
“Yes, you then had your way with me.” He chuckled.
Her hands found their way into his hair, and she studied his face. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, have I ever told you that you are the handsomest man I have ever seen who was not a statue?”
“No, you have not. As it happens, up until this minute, you are the only woman of my acquaintance who has not praised my looks. But now that you are my wife, I would like you to consider it your duty to tell me so at least once a day.”
Her eyes met his, imploring in an exaggerated way and teasing him. “You mean you will keep me, Mr Darcy? It is a decided thing?”
His countenance was full of love and admiration, as she had not seen before, even as they met at the altar of Longbourn church. “Yes, Elizabeth Darcy, it is indeed a decided thing.”
Her smile broadened. “Well then, if we have moments together like this once a day, I will not forget my duty. It will be my pleasure to tell you how very handsome you are.”
“But what if we have moments like this more than once a day? Will you tell me I am handsome more than once a day?”
“Is such a thing possible?”
Darcy shifted his weight under her, pressing his renewed ardent member against her leg. He was pleased with this evidence of his prowess. Never had he been able to restore an erection so quickly. He knew it was due to the years he had waited for a wife, Elizabeth’s tempting body, and the rapture of being intimate with the woman he loved. “Whilst I am a young man, a young man violently in love with his new wife and physically able to do so, I believe we may enjoy many opportunities for you to tell me how handsome I am every day. Will you lay with me, Lizzy?”
“Whenever it pleases you, dearest, handsomest Fitzwilliam.”
* * *
Darcy awoke in the middle of the night to find Elizabeth’s back tucked against his chest, exactly as they had fallen asleep after lovemaking. He suddenly wished to be in his own bedchamber with her. He slid from the bed, noticing in the sputtering candlelight that there was some slight evidence of blood where they had joined the second time. It was not as dramatic as on his robe, which he carried into his bedchamber. A fire had been laid, and after stirring it to blazing, he stood before it with the robe loosely folded. He, in good conscience, could not bear the thought of its being laundered and worn again, which would somehow demean the deeper connection now binding them. Do I put this away and cherish it always as the token of this night, stains and all? Or should I burn it to keep the memory between Elizabeth and myself? Being a fastidious man at heart, Darcy placed the robe on the fire, watching it for a moment before turning to his bed. The servants will see all the evidence they need from her bed. He folded down the counterpane and blankets and returned to the other room for Elizabeth.
She stirred as he gathered her into his arms. “I am carrying you to my bed or, more properly, our other bed. You do not mind?” he whispered.
“Mmm, lovely.” She tucked her cheek against his shoulder without opening her eyes. “Nightgown?”
“No, I think not. After last night, I am quite done awakening with you in a nightgown.”
She sighed contentedly as he carried her. “Most improper.”
“Yes. I hope you will not be shocked by how improper I prove to be
when we are alone.” He smiled.
He laid her onto his bed and stepped back a moment to admire a vision he had seen before only in dreams. She stretched and opened her eyes. For the first time, she took in the full view of Darcy’s naked body in a state of nearly complete arousal. She grew more alert and smiled with a dubious raised eyebrow. “It would appear, sir, that you are wishing me to say you are handsome again. When you said ‘many opportunities,’ I thought you might be exaggerating to impress me favourably with your ardency in case I had any doubt of it.” Her voice seemed disapproving.
Darcy stepped to the bed, leaned upon it with one knee, and did not resist the urge to stroke her thighs, just below the triangle of dark hair that hid so many delights. “Lizzy…darling…” He found himself preparing to beg, or even grovel. He could only think of being accepted by her again. He met her eyes, which revealed she had been teasing. They smiled at each other for a moment.
She reached a hand to him and pulled his hand to cup her breast. “If you will kiss me, here,” she said, “I will not be inclined to object to anything else you might wish to do, I assure you. Your person is far too handsome for me to refuse or even resist.”
Darcy complied, and so, quite willingly, did Elizabeth.
* * *
Elizabeth opened her eyes in the darkness. The fire had consumed itself, but she was still too warm. She was on her side in Darcy’s arms, his sleepy breath at the back of her neck. Slowly and carefully, she slipped out of the bed and crept to her dressing room. After using the water closet and freshening her nether regions with a cloth moistened in lavender water, she found herself not much harmed by the night’s events.
The last time Darcy had stirred from sleep, he had appealed to her for another consummation. He was apologetic but unrelenting, and he guided himself inside her before she had time to express her willingness. His progress was slower, his embrace gentle, and he was most attentive to her comfort. When he had finished, he whispered she should not expect such frequent performances in the future. “I imagine this is all because I have waited so long for you…to have a willing wife,” he whispered. “Thank you, Lizzy.”
She went to peek out the window. The weather was still, and she could see the barest glow of a red sunrise. ‘Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.’ Perhaps I shall just sail back to bed. She picked her nightgown up off the floor as she passed through the mistress’s bedroom, surprised at the ease with which she was adjusting to wandering naked in the dark. She laid the garment upon the long bench at the foot of the master’s bed.
Elizabeth crept back amongst the bedclothes and lay on her back, higher on the voluminous pillows. She pulled the blankets over from Darcy to cover herself to her chest, but he stirred in his sleep. He cuddled next to her, depositing his head on her shoulder and chest, and covered her private parts — they are no longer so very private. I can no longer think of that place as mine; he has taken such possession of it — with the masculine thigh of a bent leg. The bedclothes uncovered her bosom as he moved, and she did not pull at them again.
The sky lightened. Elizabeth realized his first view upon waking would be her breasts, and that would not be a bad thing. She did not wish to dwell overmuch upon those feelings Darcy awoke from between her legs during their conjugal relations, which seemed beyond understanding, but as she lay there, she did wonder at the overpowering yearning stirred in her bosom when he looked at her, touched her or, marvel of marvels, pulled a nipple into his mouth. Her own desires started there, and as his warm breath now washed rhythmically over her bare skin, she found herself hoping he would rouse.
* * *
The first light of morning entered the room though a tiny gap in the dark curtains, illuminating Darcy’s face and Elizabeth’s bosom. His breathing grew sonorous just before he awakened.
Darcy inhaled lavender, which made him smile. He sensed the soft cosy body under him; his head was nestled upon his Lizzy. One arm was under the pillows, the other crossed her waist, and his thigh covered that place where his pleasure was now centred. He could feel her cheek leaning against his head. He was undeniably erect. He opened his eyes and could see only her exposed bosom, milky pink with large relaxed nipples in the day’s first sun.
“Lizzy?” he whispered as his hand stroked her breast. Her nipples immediately responded by forming hard points. He was amazed.
“Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth kissed his forehead. “You are finally awake,” she said, accusingly. “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”
Elizabeth turned more towards him. She wiggled down the bed to claim his mouth and curled her leg around his waist. He placed his member at her entrance and met her eyes. Elizabeth nodded with a smile; she was ready to welcome him, though he had done nothing to stimulate her. What an astonishing creature I have married, he marvelled. She awakens as aroused as I do.
As he entered her, he felt her frisson of pleasure. She looked up at him, not yet delirious enough to prevent speech.
“I awoke thinking how remarkably handsome you are, and how very much I wanted to tell you so.”
“Good morning, then, Mrs Darcy!” Darcy chuckled as he grasped her hips in his hands, pushing further into her as he rolled, holding her in place, onto his back.
Elizabeth found herself on top of him, with his potency driving further within her than it had yet been. The summits of ecstasy she reached were far more profound than she had experienced in the night.
As Darcy feasted his eyes upon her, her eyes closed and her mouth opened with cries of passion. His several exertions of the night before were allowing him to last longer. He found a new source of pride in how often he could bring his willing, nay, demanding wife of just two days to further heights of bliss. At last, as she bent over him, murmuring rather incoherently of her love for what he was doing to her, he pulled her shoulders down and captured a lovely nipple in his mouth. He allowed his eyes to close, and amidst her gasps, remembered all of the past when he despaired of ever kissing her, let alone sharing a moment such as this. Even now, he wondered, does she love me, or is she merely overcome with pleasurable sensation?
Elizabeth straightened and opened her eyes, gazing at him. His expression was one of desire and a strange anguish. She willed him to look at her.
Darcy opened his eyes. Her beautiful face filled his vision. He could sense by her movements she was again near another pinnacle, but she held his gaze and started to smile with such love that he could not help but return her emotion in full measure. It was the first time he felt that, though she was transported by desire, she was aware of him, she was truly with him, she loved him deeply, and she had given herself to this profound moment without reserve just as thoroughly as had he. With a shudder and stronger thrusts, his seed released within her. He cried, “Elizabeth!” and found himself laughing for joy when he realized she was crying, “Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam…” with him as she crested a summit of desire.
They grew quiet together. Darcy drew the counterpane over Elizabeth’s back and she snuggled down, still astride him. “I have not told you,” she began, “but the night of the Meryton assembly, as Jane and I readied ourselves, we spoke of our futures, of marriage. I told her I would only marry for the deepest love. Of course, I had no real notion what those words meant. I merely liked the sound of saying it. But it must have been a charm, Fitzwilliam. I invoked some sort of spell and did not know it.”
“You must have been ready to be loved, and I was the first man to lay eyes upon you and recognize it, although it was unconsciously done. But I knew soon enough, irrational though I was to fight it.”
“Perhaps that is why I could not trust you. You were trying to fool yourself. When you said I was not handsome enough to tempt you, I had the singular impression you were expressing an opinion that was not your own.” She lifted her head and laughed at him.
Darcy laughed with her.
Artemisia
“Jest & banter”
Chapter 18
Seven Mo
nths Later
It was mid-June, just at sunrise. Darcy awoke in an empty bed for the first time since his wedding. He heard the sound of water — a bath being filled — coming from Elizabeth’s dressing room. His bleary eyes opened and traversed their bedchamber. No Elizabeth.
This was the room they both preferred as it had the biggest bed in the entire house. The former mistress’s bedroom had been converted to Elizabeth’s dressing room; her former dressing room beyond it was now a pretty sitting room, hung about with botanical drawings and a framed vignette of dried flowers and leaves, Darcy’s nosegay to her from the previous July. The rooms were refitted while the Darcys were in London for six weeks of the Season, as much to-doing in the ton as Darcy could tolerate. There was a small pianoforte in the new sitting room for Elizabeth to play for Darcy alone. The servants laughed to themselves when the mistress never played more than one song through. The master always interrupted a second.
Darcy listened, and he was alerted to what sounded like Elizabeth attempting to stifle sobs. What is this? She has not cried since we married. He flung back the bedclothes and noticed the evidence of blood where she slept. Her courses had come, but this was nothing to Darcy. She is regular in her habits. To him, it meant she was healthy.
Picking up his robe, he stole to the nearly closed door. He paused to rap on it. There was a need for politeness in the air. It swung open at his touch and revealed Elizabeth in her bath with one arm on the rolled edge. Her other hand covered her mouth. Her eyes were closed but tears escaped. Darcy saw there was no maid and tossed aside the robe he had held to cover his tumescent attributes.
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 34
