Temptations

by J L Pearl

  Contents

  The First Temptation of Mr. Darcy

  Lust Wins

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  The Second Temptation of Mr. Darcy

  Fears and clothing will be shed.

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  The Third Temptation of Mr. Darcy

  The Tease

  1

  2

  3

  4

  Author's Note

  The First Temptation

  of Mr. Darcy

  Temptations Pt. 1

  A Steamy Pride & Prejudice Variation

  J.L. Pearl

  Copyright 2019 J.L. Pearl, all rights reserved.

  No portion of this work may be duplicated or distributed without the author’s permission.

  Temptations is a trio of variation stories featuring characters from Jane Austen’s beloved novel Pride & Prejudice.

  Each story is a very steamy romance and as such should be enjoyed responsibly by readers of a certain age.

  Lust wins.

  When Elizabeth Bennet learns that Mr. Darcy has saved the reputations of the Bennet family by arranging the marriage of Mr. Wickham to her sister Lydia, she is overwhelmed with gratitude. When he visits and invites her to accompany him for a walk in the countryside, both are overwhelmed by something else.

  There will be passion.

  There will be love.

  There will be temptations.

  "The First Temptation of Mr. Darcy" is a Pride & Prejudice variation story featuring characters from Jane Austen's beloved classic novel in very steamy situations, and should be enjoyed responsibly by readers of a certain age. This is the first of a three-part collection.

  1

  ___

  Finally.

  Kitty had finally made her excuses and left Elizabeth and the gentleman alone in order to stop and visit Maria Lucas. The poor girl had been silent nearly the whole time so far. She must have been deathly afraid of him.

  Elizabeth felt something like fear, too, but tempered by the very great sensation of pleasure at walking beside him.

  Mr. Darcy.

  He looked exceptionally fine today. His countenance was clear and untroubled, his mien most noble and gracious. His form, tall and manly, wore his expertly tailored walking clothes with ease. Their dark colors complimented his dark hair, and the little curl atop his forehead waved in the warm summer breeze. Elizabeth found him altogether appealing to the eye, she had to admit.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, taking a breath as if to gather himself before making a speech. She cut him off with one word. This was her moment.

  “Wait.” She stopped walking. “Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”

  She stopped herself. She had not meant it to pour out so, like water out of a cracked flower pot. But she had made her thanks known.

  Mr. Darcy, for his part, raised his eyebrows in a gesture of genuine surprise. “I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,” he said, his voice tight with emotion, “that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted.”

  She informed him he had Lydia herself, rather than the Gardiners, to blame for her knowledge of events.

  What an odd thing it was, she thought, that her opinion of a man could change so radically in such a relatively short span of time. When she thought back to how she had felt after that first night, when he had scorned her at the dance, she found those thoughts alien, as if they belonged entirely to someone else. Even now, though she knew she had been hurt at the time, covering it with laughter, she could not help but find the memory of her first sight of him to be a warm one. Pleasure radiated through her body at her current proximity to him. And pride welled within her breast when she recalled that he had once proposed marriage, even if it had been a blundering, awkward proposal, one that she had soundly rejected.

  Oh, how she wished she could take her words back now!

  But if she had accepted him then it would have been for the flattery of the proposal, not for love of character. She had not known his character at the time; not truly. The sketch she had made had been faulty. Only now—now that he had saved her family from ruin, and even encouraged his friend Mr. Bingley to reacquaint himself with her sister, Jane—now she saw him for what he truly was. A spirit of kindness, humility, and generosity, hidden beneath that cold, aristocratic facade.

  “If you will thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.”

  Elizabeth felt heat explode in her cheeks. She was silent, unable to master her own breathing. Her heart thudded in her ears. Why was he saying these things? Why did he sound so gallant, even now? Had she not severed all hope of any greater attachment between the two of them?

  After a short pause, he added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

  Elizabeth’s heart stopped. She looked forward, but Jane and Mr. Bingley were so far ahead, they were nearly out of sight. She looked behind and found that Kitty, too, was long gone. With nowhere left to look, her eyes finally found his. And there, held by his gaze, she came undone.

  2

  ___

  She was looking at him in a way he had never seen before. In some strange way it almost scared him; made him afraid for the both of them. What if he could not control his manly urges, and she could not control her own? That look… it stirred something deep within him. Deep in his heart, yes, to be sure; love, and devotion, and a deep yearning to prove himself through loyalty, tenderness, and faithfulness. But also deep in his loins. A devil awoke in his body, screaming to be let loose.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. A breeze rolled over them, causing a few stray hairs to blow across her brow. Before he could think better of it he had reached up to brush them away. To protect those beautiful eyes. They never left his own.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmured. His voice quavered. Had he the mastery of himself? Elizabeth was a lady, and he had come to respect the dignity of her person a great deal. Surely she did not wish for the same debasement he found himself desiring right now. No. He should maintain control—he must maintain control, and reign in the passions of lust, or he would risk losing his one chance of inspiring love in this creature he worshiped above all others.

  He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but feeling the need to answer the unvoiced question. When the words came, simple and clean, they shocked him as much as her. “I love you.”

  Oh, he had told her as much before, but everything had been different then. It seemed a world away and a lifetime ago. Blinded by his pride, distorted by the arrogance bred into his very nature, he had assume she would accept his proposal with gratitude. Nevermind that he had made it with every insult he could have possibly conjured in relation to her family and social standing. How foolish he had been! But he had changed now. He wished it were so; he had to believe it. Could she see it? Would it be enough to change her opinion of him, which, in
light of his mistreatment of her, must have been cemented long ago?

  The woman before him took a deep, steadying breath, closed her eyes as if in a dream, leaned forward, and kissed him full on the lips.

  He returned it eagerly.

  She was soft. Her lips against his, the skin of her face and neck and the feel of her hair in her hand, which he raised—so very soft. But also powerful in the unleashing of her own passion. Willful. Strong. His love seemed to deepen by the moment.

  As did his lust.

  When finally their mouths parted for breath, she gasped, “I love you, too!”

  They smiled and laughed together. Mr. Darcy shot a look up and down the path, only to find they had been abandoned by all their companions. They were, it seemed, completely alone.

  “And I accept,” she breathed. “Mr. Darcy, if you will still have me, you can.”

  “Call me Fitz,” he said, caressing her cheek. She reached up and took his hand in her own, nodding.

  “Fitz. Very well. I am yours, Fitz. All of me.”

  “And I am yours, Elizabeth. Now and forever!”

  They embraced again, their mouths meeting, this time with less innocence and more intention. Mr. Darcy grew aware of the sensation of her body beginning to press against his own.

  It was his first temptation.

  For all the secret hopes and dreams, and even fantasies of their wedding night, he had never considered an opportunity might present itself for him to make love to Miss Bennet so soon. The very thought shocked him. It went against all his sensibilities, and would have even offended his very character, had their love and declaration of such, and her acceptance of his proposal of marriage, not seemed to make such protestations meaningless. She would be his wife, and he her husband. This was now fact.

  And here they were. The day was very fine. They were alone, and it would be so easy to sneak off the path a bit, into the tall grass of the fields to either side, and find a place to lie down together. He would spread his coat down for a blanket, and she would lie back, easy, restful, and press her soft body against him again, with no fear of being seen and no fear of being dishonored, for she belonged to him, and he to her.

  The fantasy shocked him like lightning. The blood thundered in his ears, and his body reacted urgently to her own, pressing and rubbing against her. The fabric of her summer dress was surprisingly thin.

  “Oh,” she said, “I can feel you!”

  3

  ___

  Elizabeth blushed furiously and looked at the ground. What would he think? Surely there could be no confusion about her comment. It was lewd, positively inappropriate, and unbecoming a lady. But she had not been thinking straight. She wasn’t sure she was even now. She had only blurted out, with some excitement, this wonderful thing—that she could feel his pleasure, his arousal, the proof of his attraction to her. She felt it still as she pressed her body against his, and he answered in kind.

  “You do?” he whispered, his lips finding her neck. She turned her eyes skyward, exposing the length of her neck to him. He swept over it with lips and tongue like an artist expertly painting a landscape. She shivered.

  “Yes,” she said, surprised to feel her voice well out of her like a moan. Her legs felt weak and she collapsed against him, letting the weight of her body rest against his strong, able frame. He ran his hands from the middle of her back down over the small of it, finding better purchase. Then one of his hands slid down further still.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she crooned, “I believe you are… seducing me.”

  He scoffed and continued to kiss her neck. “I would say it is you who has seduced me, Elizabeth.” His hand innocently trailed up her back again. But she didn’t want it to end. She liked that he was playing the rake. Finding willpower once more, she grabbed his arm and thrust it down again, till his hand gripped her buttocks through her summer dress. Another thrill swept through her body.

  “Fitz,” she corrected herself. From the corner of her eye she caught him smiling as his face rose to meet her own.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. She closed her eyes and sank against him again.

  The sun was warm on her back. From nearby she heard a bird singing. It sounded high but close, as if above them. She opened her eyes and saw there was a strong, solitary oak tree not far off. A blue jay, perched on a low branch, quirked its head. All around the base of the tree, the tall grass waved in the gentle breeze. It looked tall enough to hide them from sight, were they to lie down on the ground in the shade of the oak.

  She did not hesitate. Not for a moment.

  “Come with me,” she said, taking his hand in hers. Glancing up and down the path once more to confirm no one was watching, she ducked low and led him in a wide circle, so as not to leave an obvious trail of trampled grass, until they came to the far side of the tree. There, she knelt, bringing him down with her. He immediately removed his jacket and spread it on the ground like a blanket. She smiled.

  “Show me,” she said. “Show me how much you love me. Why should we wait, Fitz? Show me now. Let’s elope, here in this field, before all the world but hidden for modesty’s sake. Beneath the sun and the tree.” She leaned forward to kiss his ear. “Take me, Fitz.”

  Her own confidence and reckless abandon sent shivers down her spine. She had always been lively, but never before had she so given herself over to passion. She found hidden depths within herself, hidden appetites, and she swore she would indulge them. She would please him.

  “Elizabeth.” He pulled back ever so slightly, his eyes locked on her own. She saw hunger there, too, and passion, and raw, bestial lust. But also tenderness. Love. Kindness. Maybe even concern. “Are you sure, my love? I…” He glanced at the ground a moment, then collected himself and met her eyes again. “I would never do anything to displease you. Or to cause you discomfort. I won’t have you thinking you have something to prove to me, or that you have to do this in order to win my favor.”

  She shook her head. “You are too kind, Fitz. Mr. Darcy. No, I assure you, this has everything to do with what I want right now. I want…” She paused a moment. “You don’t feel like I’m pressuring you into this either, do you?”

  In answer, he drew her close to himself, this time wrapping his arms about her in an intimate but protecting embrace. “No, my love. I am ready to give you everything.”

  They kissed again. Whether he initiated or she did, she was not sure. It hardly mattered anymore. Now their bodies moved in perfect synchronization, just as their hearts beat together and their spirits sang. They were one flesh.

  4

  ___

  Fitzwilliam Darcy’s head spun.

  He pressed his lips against the lips of his beloved and she answered in kind, running her hands up his chest and finding the buttons of his shirt. He began to explore her dress as well, his fingers probing for weaknesses, ways to remove the hindrance of clothing from the eagerness of their bodies. In frustration, he tugged at the fabric, tearing it just a little. He stopped, appalled that he might cause damage to her property or any inconvenience to her. But she only smiled and laughed quietly.

  “It’s alright, my love,” she said. “It’s alright!” She pulled the dress up and off of her body, revealing herself in her undergarments. These she allowed him to tear with impunity, as they would not be seen on their return trip.

  His top half was bare now. The breeze blew chilly without a shirt, but the warmth of the sun combined with the heat of his passion to keep him hot enough that he felt his face burning with blush. He cradled Elizabeth in his arms, kissing her, and lay her down atop his jacket. She succumbed, running a hand over his chest, tracing the outlines of his muscles. His skin tingled at her touch.

  “I would make love to you, Elizabeth,” he murmured.

  “And I to you,” she said, gasping in pleasure as he sank his lips into her neck again. This time he indulged himself and worked his way down her neckline to the cleavage between her barely concealed breas
ts. When he came to the loosely covering undergarment, he teased beneath it with his tongue, thrilled to find her nipple. She shivered beneath him, her pleasure only increasing his own, and pulled the garment away.

  Mr. Darcy pushed himself up with his arms and took in the sight of her. Her long, slender neck led gracefully to a pair of ample breasts, a womanly bosom filled with the fire and passion of youth, adoring a soft, smooth belly. Her skin was like the unbroken cream that has risen to the top of the milk, unsullied, perfect, rich and soft and fair as a winter’s morning. He had to taste her.

  He struggled for one last moment with temptation. Honor, dignity, and the bearing a person of his consequence was expected to maintain absolutely forbade licentiousness. And adultery was right out. But she was his. She was his wife now, in all but ceremony. And he was hers. Passion roared within him, angry at the thought of pulling away now. No. They wanted this. And where there was love—not passion only, but commitment, and honor, and every intention between them—there lust may have free roam, also.

  He dropped back down.

  Her breasts were firm beneath his kisses and caresses, and she gasped whenever he teased her nipples with tongue or fingertip. His own arousal continued to heighten, and soon he had moved down to her belly, planting kiss after kiss upon that perfect skin.

  “I must have you,” he growled against her stomach.

  She gripped him by the hair, twisting locks of it between her fingers. The sting made his breath catch in his throat. “Take me, Fitzwilliam. Take me now!”

  He grunted and tore at the small clothes still covering her beneath her waist. She reached down and slid them off. Now she was completely naked on the ground beneath him. She grabbed his pants and made short work of pulling them off. Then, all in a moment, their naked bodies touched one another, writhing, pulsing, grinding one into the other. Elizabeth moaned in pleasure. Mr. Darcy throbbed, pressing his sensitive member against her soft, perfect skin.