Desired By Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #2)

Epilogue

Elizabeth

L izzy was certain of many things in her life, but her honeymoon had taught her two more things that she knew to be absolutely true.

The first was that her mother had been utterly wrong in her assessment of marital relations. It was no sufferance. In fact, it was quite the best thing she had ever done. It was far more pleasing, and invigorating, than walking.

The second was that books were, indeed, the most marvellous thing in existence. The little black book her husband possessed was like a portal to a new world. She had been shocked at first, to see such illustrations contained within its pages. She had flicked through with fascinated curiosity, aware of her husband’s gaze boring into her. He had been so afraid to show her, afraid of her judgement. She held no judgement at all; she wished only to try as many of these lurid positions as possible.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was, for all his initial embarrassment, a natural lover. He touched her with such reverence that she felt like some goddess far above her own mortality. She had never expected to be the cause of a change in him, but he had opened for her like a flower. Apologies and shame had left their bedroom, for now he touched her as though his only purpose was to bring her pleasure.

Their honeymoon, a rather grand term for three weeks spent in various states of undress and in all manner of positions, was coming to a close. Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam and the Gardeners would arrive tomorrow for Christmas, and their blissful solitude would come to an end. Lizzy was not quite sure that she was ready for polite company; she still felt quite feral with desire for her handsome new husband.

“We could run away,” she suggested as they lay side by side. “You must own property nearby. We could seclude ourselves away until the new year. They would not miss us.”

“The mistress of Pemberley, refusing to host our invited guests and hiding away, all so her husband may spend all his time between her legs?” he teased. “It will not do, my love. There would be a terrible scandal. We said we would welcome them for Christmas, and so we must.”

“I said that before we were married. Now, all I wish to do is stay here, wearing nothing at all and occupying ourselves most pleasantly in something that is most definitely not suitable for company.”

“You are a minx, Mrs Darcy.”

“I am, indeed; your minx. You have made me like this, sir.”

“We are yet alone, my love; let us make the most of the time we have.”

He pulled her closely, kissing her soundly. She smiled against his lips, threading her fingers through his hair. It had grown long in their time together, and she rather liked it; he was becoming less rigid, she thought. Affection came increasingly easily to him, as did smiling and laughter. He was not a changed man, for she would not wish to change him too much, but he was certainly brighter in his countenance.

She hooked a leg over his, tugging him closer with an insistent heel. He groaned as his hardness pressed against her, and she savoured the sound.

“Lizzy,” he said warningly. “I do not like it when you tease.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” she whispered, shoving him quickly so he was on his back.

She jumped astride him, leaning back as she observed his prone body. He no longer shrunk under her gaze, but rather returned it as he swept his eyes hungrily over her body. He was especially fond of her breasts, she knew, for he never tired of caressing them with his fingers and eager tongue. He was somewhat less reluctant to allow her to explore his body; now, she would take the chance.

“Lizzy…” he moaned, as she leaned forward to kiss him. “What are you about?”

“I am taking charge, my love. You please me so often, and so well…would you let me do the same to you?”

“You think you do not please me?” he asked, his forehead creasing in confusion. “I do not know how I could make my satisfaction any clearer.”

She smiled, shaking her head.

“I do not mean that. I mean, I believe I should like to know your body as intimately as you know mine. You have never let me look at you like this. I should like to see you spread out beneath me, and I should like to kiss you everywhere.”

“Lizzy…”

She leant down, pressing a kiss to his sternum. He exhaled sharply as she moved to his nipple, swirling her tongue around it. If she was sensitive in that place, then logic only served that he would be too. She was right; he shuddered against her, his hips rising as she took that little bud between her teeth.

Power was a rather enjoyable sensation when it came to this, she discovered. She had quite happily been led in their endeavours, or they had made discoveries together. Now, she was in charge, Fitzwilliam spread out willingly beneath her. She kissed a trail down his torso, marvelling in the way his muscles spasmed and jumped beneath her lips. His breathing grew ever harsher, his hands curling into the sheets.

When at last she reached his manhood – his cock, as she had learnt it was called in the crudest terms, which she enjoyed using, and her husband greatly enjoyed hearing – she pressed a final kiss on the bone of his hip.

“Lizzy, what…”

His words were lost as she licked a heated stripe up the length of his cock. He tensed beneath her, and she ran admiring hands over his broad thighs as she bobbed forward, daring to take him into his mouth.

“Fuck, my love, oh…”

That was another thing she had discovered; Fitzwilliam, when pushed to it, could swear like a sailor. She revelled in it, knowing that she could entice a man so rigid in his control to curse as she undid him. It sent sparks through her, making her mad with need. She swirled her tongue around him, his breath filling the air as his hips shuddered.

She delighted in her endeavours, taking him in and out of her mouth as he unravelled beneath her. She hummed around him happily, only to find herself pulled away and crushed to her husband’s eager lips.

“You are a witch,” he whispered, breathing harshly as his hand slipped between her legs. He pressed against her firmly, rubbing her in slow, determined circles. “I need you, Lizzy. Get on top of me and ride me, please. I want to see you, to see those perfect tits bouncing. Fuck me, please.”

She pushed him back, wasting no time. She straddled him and took his cock in hand, slipping him inside her. They both gasped, complete at last. The sensation differed from all previous experiences, feeling impossibly full as she rolled her hips against him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lip caught between his teeth as his breath stuttered from him. She had seen him in this way more than once; he was close, and trying desperately to push away the release that threatened him.

“Do not finish before me,” she warned, increasing her pace. “It would be most – oh! – most ungentlemanly.”

His hand slipped between them, and she almost saw stars as he started rubbing circles against that place that seemed to hold the key to her pleasure. She tipped her head back, moving faster as she chased that pinnacle.

“Come for me, Lizzy. You beautiful creature, you…oh, please, fuck, please Lizzy, I need it. Please.”

His pleading unravelled her, and she gasped as her release slammed into her with such ferocity she could do nothing but surrender to it. Fitzwilliam fell a moment after her, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushed her down. She could scarcely breathe, pleasure knocking the very air from her lungs.

She sagged forward, bearing her weight on her arms as she tried to recover. Strong hands slipped round her waist, tugging her towards him as he kissed her desperately.

“Will it just keep getting better and better?” Lizzy asked breathlessly. “What did your book say about that?”

“Fuck the book,” he panted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You are the only teacher I need.”