Chapter Twenty
THEY COLLECTED ELIZABETH in the mid afternoon one winter day. They appeared downstairs at the servants’ entrance, the both of them like scheming, mischievous schoolboys asking her to run off with them.
She had not even known her husband was back, let alone that he’d brought Wickham with him.
She could not touch either of them, not with the servants looking on, so she simply went with both of them.
They had a carriage. They helped her inside and shut the door, and she wanted to slap Wickham’s face and she wanted to kiss him and she decided she must settle for the latter, so she did.
He cupped her cheek with one hand, gazing deep into her eyes. “Ah, Lizzy, it is good to see you again.”
She looked at Mr. Darcy, and she thought she might like to slap him too, but he seemed so pleased to be watching the two of them that her heart melted a bit.
They went across town to a smaller house in a much less fashionable part of town.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“This is my house that I am renting,” said Wickham. “I have been convinced to upend my pursuit of being a Scottish lawyer to practice law here, though I have a past and a reputation to contend with here. But other things are here, too.”
“You are renting a house yourself,” said Elizabeth.
“So he is,” said Darcy. “Our George is changed.”
“You are both changed,” she said, looking between them. “I am entirely the same.”
“Yes, and you must stay entirely the same always,” said Wickham, kissing her again. “God, but I had forgotten how beautiful you are.”
She was gratified by that, she had to admit.
She wasn’t surprised that they took her immediately to a bedchamber or that the two of them were tugging her back and forth between them, one holding and caressing and kissing her before the other pulled her away to do much the same.
“Lizzy,” said Wickham, “I understand that you are quite busy with trying to marry off your sisters and Fitz’s sister besides, so we shan’t keep you long.”
“Oh, no?” she said. “Going to be quite quick with me, are you?”
Darcy pressed into the both of them and then kissed Wickham’s jaw, and the sight of that shocked her.
Wickham turned and captured the other man’s lips with his own, and she let out a little noise in the back of her throat, watching that, watching them kiss.
She could not look away from the sight of it, their masculine hardness softened by the action, the look of them both, opposite in their way, Darcy dark and Wickham fair. They were beautiful like that.
They turned to look at her, smiling.
“She likes that, I think, Fitz,” said Wickham.
“Mmm, good,” said Darcy.
“I do,” she gasped. “I very much do. You may do that as often as you like, if you please.”
Wickham chuckled. “I think we shall. We have been doing that to each other rather a lot since we left Scotland.”
“But we missed you.” Darcy’s arm snaked around her waist.
“Yes, and we have been stroking each other and suckling each other and talking of what we wish to do with you,” said Wickham, “and we are going out of our heads, so we could not stop ourselves from collecting you in the midst of the afternoon.”
“Apologies, pretty Lizzy,” said Darcy, kissing her earlobe.
She smiled at the both of them. “I shall think about forgiving you. What is it you wish to do with me?”
Wickham’s smile was wicked. “Breed you, of course.”
She swallowed, because she had told Mr. Darcy that she wished to wait to be gotten with child, but there was something about the way he had said it, something about that word, that had gone through her in such a way that made her tingle between her thighs.
“Now, now, George, I told you she says she might like some time,” said Mr. Darcy. “You cannot get her full of your seed just yet, not if she is not ready.”
She turned to Mr. Darcy in shock. “George’s seed?”
“Mmm,” said Wickham, reaching out to fondle her breasts through her clothes. “I am to father the Darcy heir, you see, and I should like to get started on that as soon as possible. Are you certain you do not want me to get you with child, Lizzy?”
She gasped, quite aroused by this, she had to say. “Oh, I see. I think I see.”
Darcy pressed into her from behind and she could feel her husband’s erection. “When you are ready, Lizzy, when you say you wish to be gotten with child, then I shall swear off your cunny and only George will make use of it.”
“Yes,” said Wickham, still fondling her. “I shall bury myself in your sweet tight wetness again and again while Fitz spills in your mouth and on these lovely breasts of yours and perhaps, if you are still willing, in your arse.”
She gasped, remembering that and wanting that. “Oh, let’s do that now,” she moaned.
“Now?” whispered Mr. Darcy at her ear. “Are you quite certain?”
“You do want me to get you with child, do you not, Lizzy?” said Wickham, kissing her jaw, and then her cheekbone.
“You want to be filled to the brim again and again, just overflowing with my spend. You want my babe growing in you.” His hand moved to her belly.
His voice became a rasp. “I have been imagining you heavy with my babe the whole way from Scotland.”
Elizabeth’s nipples tingled and there was an answering tingle, more of an ache, really, between her legs.
“I have been imagining it, too,” said Darcy, reaching around to touch her flat stomach as well.
“We have been talking about it whilst we stroke each other, Lizzy, and it makes me quite stiff to think of you bred by him, but it also…” He kissed her temple.
“It makes my heart sore in a sweet, sweet way. We shall do it, but if you are not ready—”
“I want it,” she gasped. “Yes, please, George, please. Get me with child. Give me your spend, please.”
Both of the men groaned against her, and then they were kissing her fiercely and kissing each other and she felt tangled up in a bright skein of thread that was both lust and love and safety and sweetness. She never wanted to get free. She wanted tangled in it forever.
They kissed her as they undressed her and as they undressed themselves.
Wickham took her to the bed and pressed her into it, kissing her neck and her collar and between her bare breasts and then moving down to suckle her nipples and she arched up into him.
Darcy left the room, still in his trousers.
When he came back, he had a tin of something, which he set down on the bedside table.
“Grease, Lizzy, so that I may have you back there,” he told her, and she moaned at the thought of it.
She babbled to them both, “I have been imagining it for so long, being in the center of you, both of you pressed against me, both of you in me, all of us joined. I want it ever so much.”
“Yes,” said Wickham, mouth full of her breast. “All of us joined. Just so, Lizzy.”
“Sweet Lizzy,” said Darcy, lifting her and sliding his body around hers.
He leaned against the headboard of the bed, and she settled against him.
His fingers reached down to cup the cheeks of her buttocks and she gasped and sighed.
He squeezed her there. “George,” he said, “do you think you might put that mouth of yours to use between our lovely wife’s thighs while I ready her other entrance? ”
“Oh, I should love to taste my Lizzy again,” he said, moving his way down her body.
“Ready me?” breathed Elizabeth to Darcy. “What must you do?”
“You need to be greased well,” her husband told her, “so that I may slip into you easily. Also, you are so very small here, my sweet wife.” Another squeeze. “I shall need to stretch you to make room for me in you.”
She moaned. “Because you are so big, hmm?”
Darcy chuckled.
“Oh, that is what you wished to hear is it not?” she said archly.
Wickham applied his mouth to her cunny, one long stripe of his tongue. “Yes, tell our Fitz that he has a very large prick, Lizzy.”
She giggled. “Well, yours are the only two I have seen, and they seem the same size to me.”
“A very politic answer,” said her husband in her ear, reaching for the tin of grease. He moved his hand from where he was cupping her arse cheeks to open it. Then, gathering up some grease, he put his hand back. His finger probed her.
She let out a little noise at the sensation, which was not remotely bad, but was, well, different.
“All right?” whispered Darcy at her ear.
“Yes, yes,” she said.
Wickham’s tongue moved against her and she began to sigh as her pleasure began to mount.
Darcy’s finger slipped into the tight ring of her opening back there, and it felt… invasive. She held her breath.
And Wickham’s tongue made her let her breath out, made her loosen.
Darcy’s voice at her ear. “This part may be a bit uncomfortable, Lizzy, but it gets much better.”
“And how would you know?” she whispered back.
Wickham lifted his face from between her thighs. “Oh, he knows.”
She was shocked. “Without me? You did that without me?”
“Lizzy would like to watch me fuck our husband then, I suppose?” said Wickham.
Darcy groaned at her ear. “I am sorry, my love. It was a long way from Scotland, and we were perpetually erect practically the entire way.”
“It’s true,” said Wickham, putting his mouth back between her legs. “Frightfully uncomfortable, riding horses while aroused. We kept pausing to ease our discomfort, and it wasn’t working.”
“I wondered if it would help,” said Darcy. “If it would make us both a bit more satisfied. Lizzy, I am going to ease another finger into you, you’ll feel a stretch, all right?”
She tensed. “Did it make you more satisfied?”
Darcy’s second finger slid in, and he whispered, “Relax, sweet one, let me in.”
“It did not,” said Wickham. “But we were thinking of you the entire time, Lizzy.” He kissed the center of her pleasure and then gently drew it into his mouth and applied gentle suction.
She cried out. That was lovely, the sweet rhythmic tug as he suckled her there. She was going to crest and come against him if he kept at that. She began to move her hips against him, which had the effect of getting Darcy’s fingers more deeply lodged in her.
“Ah, good girl, Lizzy,” said Darcy. “Another finger and you shall be ready for me, I think.”
“Give it to me,” she panted.
“Are you sure, because—”
“Yes,” she cried.
And he pushed in and the stretching sensation warred with the sweet tug at the apex of her thighs and the sensations fed into each other, and she climbed high, high into the air to burst like a shooting star. She let out a garbled sound as she came against Wickham’s mouth.
Darcy felt it. “Oh, very, very good, Lizzy,” he breathed in her ear. “Such a perfect, good wife to come like that, so easily.”
She slumped into his chest, gasping, pushing at Wickham’s forehead, needing to dislodge him, because it was too much. “It has been a while, Fitz.”
“Mmm, yes,” he said. “My apologies. And my apologies for not allowing you to watch George deflower me.”
“You’ll have to make do with watching him deflower me,” said Wickham moving up to kiss her mouth.
She sighed, wrapping a hand round his neck. “Yes, please,” she said and kissed him back, tasting herself on his tongue.
“I should like it between you,” said Darcy, “Pressed between you both, just as you will be between the both of us. But that will have to wait until we have you quite bred and George’s child sown well in your womb.”
At this, both men’s hands migrated to her stomach, and she sighed a little.
Their voices grew deep and a bit gruff.
“You will be very beautiful growing our babe,” said Darcy. “I cannot help but picture you that way.”
“Your belly will swell,” said Wickham. His hands moved. “Your breasts too.”
“Mmm,” said Darcy, moving his hand up to touch them as well. “And it will be George who has wrought these changes on you, so I shall look at you and see you both, see the man and the woman I love every time I see your dress stretched against the babe growing there.”
Elizabeth gasped.
Wickham gasped. “Yes, Lizzy, I want it badly.” He lowered his face and kissed her belly. “Is she ready, Fitz?”
“I think so,” said Darcy. “I shall get settled in her here first and then you may situate yourself?”
“And the movement?” said Wickham. “Will you be able to move?”
Darcy shifted his hips against her. “Quite easily. I shall like it to be just gentle rocking, I think. I would not mind it prolonged.”
Wickham groaned. He kissed her belly again. “Going to seed your womb, Lizzy, and get you with my child.”
She shivered. She ran her hands through his hair. “Yes, please, George. Get me with child.”
“I’m going to fill you from behind, Lizzy,” said Darcy. “I may need your help.” He removed his fingers. She let out a gasp. Then she felt the head of his cock against her, pressing, but it just slipped around there, not going in. “Yes, my love, would you help me? Reach back and put me in, please.”
She did, tucking the greased head of him inside.
He let out a garbled sound, pressing deeper. “Lizzy,” he sighed. “Oh, Lizzy.”
She was breathless as he filled her. He felt nicer than his fingers had felt, smoother, sleeker, a better shape. But it was a lot, and she felt very vulnerable here, and letting him in, it unraveled something in her, a layer that made her give herself over to him in a way she hitherto had not.
“You feel divine,” Darcy said in a tattered voice.
“Looking at the two of you is making my prick throb,” said Wickham, his voice strained. “The expressions on your faces, and Lizzy with her legs spread and her high, pretty breasts, and her wet, pink cunny.”
Elizabeth moaned. “It’s yours now, George, yours to fill.”
“Yes, please,” said Darcy. “Please, George, fuck my wife. Fuck our wife. Fuck her with me.”
Wickham lined himself up and slid easily into her.
And she was so full of both of them, crammed entirely full.
The two men took a few moments to get their movements synced up but then they found it, and she writhed between them as they worked themselves within her, kissing her shoulders and neck and jaw line, leaning in to kiss each other from time to time, whispering hushed praise for her, telling her how good she felt, remarking on the way they could feel the other moving inside her.
Darcy finished first and then they both whispered in her ear to prompt her to ask for Wickham’s spend.
“Do you want George to come inside your pretty cunny and get you with child?” said Darcy.
“Yes,” she said, “oh, yes.”
“Beg me for it, Lizzy,” said George. “Say please.”
“Please George, please come in me,” she moaned.
“And what happens if I come in you, lovely Lizzy?”
“You get me with child,” she gasped. “Please get me with child, George, please give me your babe.”
“Yes, good Lizzy, so good, here you are,” he groaned, and he let go inside her.