Chapter Thirteen #2
Yes, in some ways, it would always be her and Wickham on one side and Darcy on the other. He was the one in charge, after all. They were here to serve him.
When she met Wickham’s lips again, her kisses were a bit desperate.
She could not lie to herself and say that she found the situation unappealing or that she was being coerced in any way.
No, she was aroused by the idea of being her husband’s property, of being given here to be fucked by another while her husband watched. It excited her.
It was, however, rather terrifying, somewhere deep in the center of it.
She decided not to focus on that, however.
Wickham undressed her carefully. He spent a great deal of time with her lying on the bed, half dressed, her stays pushed down, her breasts on display. He touched them and he put his mouth to them. He turned his face to Darcy as he did so.
When she stole glances at her husband, he was quite enjoying himself, his expression pleased and open. He had undone his trousers, and his prick was out. He was languidly rubbing himself and greedily taking them in.
But when Wickham slipped inside her, he focused only on her.
He did not turn to look at Darcy once. He didn’t pleasure her, either, something he usually did.
He didn’t touch her between her thighs. He pressed into her, claiming her lips with ferocity, and he fucked her relentlessly, gasping and panting into her mouth, looking at her, gazing deeply into her eyes.
He spilled inside her, moaning, and then retreated, pulling out, collapsing in a heap between her spread thighs. He reached out to thumb her clitoris, panting. He looked at Darcy. “Now I’ll finish her for you?”
Darcy got out of his chair and came over. His fingers were warm on her thighs as they crawled around to find her clitoris. “I shall finish her.” He found her gaze, smiling at her, and he began to make circles around her, the way she had taught him last night.
She shut her eyes.
“Look at me,” said Darcy, his voice gentle, a request. “I want to watch your face when I make you come, Lizzy.”
She held his gaze.
“There we are,” he said. “You’ll lie here just like this with George’s spend inside you and come on my fingers, and belong to us both, will you not?”
She moaned, “I shall, yes, I shall.”
“Good Lizzy,” he crooned. “Say it, then, say who you belong to?”
“Yours,” she said to Darcy, and she met Wickham’s gaze, where he was panting as he looked at them both. “Yours,” she said to him.
Wickham wrapped a hand around her calf. “Mine,” he said in a ragged voice. “My Lizzy.”
Her pleasure built like a wall of bricks surrounding her, holding her inside this courtyard of sinful pleasures she’d constructed for herself. It went higher and higher, stacking on top of itself until she brushed the sky itself and she went to pieces, raining down in a shower of clenches.
LATER, SHE WAS back in her drawers but naked else and pressed between the both of them in the bed. She had her back to Darcy and her face to Wickham. They were both sleepily planting little kisses here and there—on her shoulders, her forehead.
“How long do you bleed, then, Lizzy?” said Darcy to her. “Five days or something like that?”
“I shouldn’t spend in her towards the end of it,” said Wickham. “I know of a woman who says it can lead to a child then.”
“Oh, there are always tales of women who claim to have been gotten with child when they could not have been,” said Mr. Darcy.
“The body is strange,” said Elizabeth. “It does not always follow nature’s rules.”
“That’s true enough, I suppose,” said Mr. Darcy. “But we have a few days of this, of George having you? Would you two like a night on your own, just the two of you?”
Wickham stiffened.
“What?” said Darcy. “Do you not want that? It is only that I am with her alone, and you seemingly never are. I was a bit jealous of whatever you had with her at the beginning, I think, and perhaps I resisted it before, but the jealousy is all madness and idiocy at this point. I was quite stupid not to ask her to teach me how to please her. I was quite stupid to think it was going to be so complicated.” He paused, thoughtful.
“Though, I have to say, I don’t see how my prick is ever to bring you, Lizzy. ”
“Oh, that’s rare,” said Wickham. “For it to happen from just fucking, you mean?”
“It can’t be rare, because half of the time we’ve been with—”
“Whores are faking,” said Wickham perfunctorily.
Behind her, her husband groaned.
“Sorry,” muttered Wickham. “I’m in a mood, and I oughtn’t be. It was perfect and lovely to have her tonight. I wasn’t…” He focused on her. “I’m sorry about the way I did it.”
She shook her head. “There was nothing wrong with the way you did it. You were forceful, perhaps, but you readied me for it, and you were going to make sure I was pleased at the end, so I have no complaints.”
“Yes, this is why you’re perfect,” Wickham said, briefly kissing her lips.
Darcy’s hands smoothed over her back and waist. “She is quite perfect and we are the luckiest of men to have found her. I cannot think of any other woman who would bear this, let alone enjoy it, and she does, she quite does.”
“Well,” said Elizabeth, “I think a number of women might like this, truly.”
“No,” said Wickham.
“Absolutely not,” said Darcy.
She sighed.
“You haven’t answered my question,” said Darcy. “Whether you want a night alone with her, George?”
“Obviously,” said Wickham. “Clearly, I do. And I thank you for it. I’m astonished that you are offering it so easily, in fact.”
“Yes, it might be a bit odd,” said Darcy. “Knowing the two of you are off together without me. What is it like for you, George?”
Wickham didn’t answer.
“Is it awful?” said Darcy quietly.
“It’s fine,” said Wickham. “It’s all fine. I cannot leave her, so we must make it work. I shall take whatever it is that I can have of her and this and you. I shall not be greedy for more. I shall enjoy what I can have.”
Darcy’s hands moved thoughtfully over her skin. He kissed her shoulder again.
“I think you boys should have a night to yourselves,” said Elizabeth archly. “I should take a nice, long bath and read. You could suck each other’s—” She broke off. “If you do that, actually, I should like to watch.”
Darcy chuckled. “Oh, we’ve done that.”
She turned around to look at him. “Truly?”
Wickham was laughing, too. “Truly.”
“But you made such a business about the taste of George’s spend in my mouth,” she said.
“Oh, well, he would never let me finish there,” said Wickham. “I have swallowed him more than once—”
“You always did that on your own. I tried to warn you off, and you would just stay there, so—”
“Anyway, he’s a little squeamish, our Fitz,” said Wickham, but his teasing was affectionate. “I was surprised to see him touching you tonight, especially during your bleeding. I thought he was too disgusted by women’s juices to do it.”
“No!” said Elizabeth. “He was embarrassed, that’s all. He said he—”
“Lizzy.” Darcy interrupted, his voice sharp.
Oh, well, she supposed that she had thought he wouldn’t be embarrassed with Wickham, but she did not understand their relationship, and she was beginning to think she never would.
Now, it was quiet.
Finally, Darcy spoke. “You have these ideas, George, about how it is that I am so far above you in so many ways. But I am not. You have experience that I do not have, a kind of daring spirit that means that you find things out and try things that I will not. You have all manner of things over me. I suppose this is why I hold other things over you, to try to make it feel as if there is a balance.”
“I don’t have experience you do not have,” countered Wickham. “What do you mean?”
Darcy sighed heavily. “I have only ever been with a woman with you.”
Wickham sat up straight in the bed and looked down at him. “You’re lying.”
Darcy shook his head.
Wickham thrust the covers up and got out of the bed and began pacing.
“That’s mad, Fitz. You can’t mean that. What?
” He gestured. “Look at you, with that face of yours, and with being so tall, and those shoulders, and this is to say nothing of the income and the connections to the peerage and the… what?”
Mr. Darcy was entirely quiet.
Wickham glanced at her. “Oh, God, and then I… this is your wife.” He ran a hand over his face.
“It’s as if you don’t see what it is you mean to me,” said Darcy.
Wickham looked back and forth between them. Then, he gathered up his clothing and stalked out of the room without another word.
Darcy flung an arm over his face.
Elizabeth climbed out of bed. “I shall go after him.”
“I should have kept my mouth shut,” muttered her husband, in a miserable voice.