Chapter 28 #2
“The party was lovely…though a little too much,” he said, and she laughed with surprise at such a change of subject.
“Yes…” she replied, swallowing some wine. Her red, moist lips drew his eyes.
“I loathed every moment you danced with other men,” he confessed, and she laughed, almost spilling her wine.
She put the glass down and wiped the drops from her lips with his. Her taste was more intoxicating than the wine, and he could not stop tasting and savouring them.
His left hand slowly touched the fabric of her gown, then brushed over her legs—first tentatively and then more daringly.
“You should put your glass down too,” she whispered through kisses, and he obeyed.
They rested against the pillows, and he lay atop her without releasing her from the passionate trap of his mouth.
One hand played in her silky, loose hair while the other slowly moved along her throat and down to reach the line of her gown, stroking the fine fabric and her bare skin.
“My dearest, all I want from you is to love me and to allow me to show you how ardently I love and admire you. There is nothing to worry about tonight. It is just about us, about our passion and desires…about what we both want and have yearned for…”
His face was only inches from hers, and her eyes delighted in his handsome figure.
He was her husband, she thought, and the notion thrilled her.
All her uncertainties vanished. Her fingers caressed his eyelids, his cheeks, and the contour of his mouth; her lips eagerly followed the path of her touches, hesitant at first, then more daring.
His lips and his soul smiled at the proof of her maidenly passion.
He untied her robe, but she did not even seem to notice, her lips never leaving his face.
He then pulled off the robe, and she stopped.
Her eyes found his, and they silently spoke to each other.
Her hands encircled his neck, and she leaned back, pulling him with her until his weight held her.
She did not want to escape; she wished to surrender completely to him and feel all the heat of his passion she had only glimpsed so far.
She wanted their love to be complete in every sense.
He spread countless kisses from her lips to her cheeks, her eyes, her jaw, and back to her lips again, impatient but gentle.
His hands explored her body; the soft fabric of her nightgown flowed through his fingers, brushing her skin as he slid it down, revealing her to his hungry and adoring gaze.
She had no courage to look at him, so she closed her eyes.
His hands draped her in sweet caresses, and his lips left the sweetness of her mouth and began a maddening exploration of her beauty.
More daring, his hands touched the perfect roundness of her breasts.
He groaned at the exquisite pleasure then greedily cupped the long-desired softness in his palms. He traced tantalising circles closer and closer to the pink centres, which hardened under his touch.
She moaned and begged for more, so his lips blazed a path along her neck, savouring her skin.
A trail of warm kisses encircled her breast until his lips finally closed upon the soft hardness and captured it. He heard her moans grow louder as her body quivered beneath him; her fingers were tightly entwined in his hair, pulling him closer to her as the pleasure overwhelmed her.
Never had he enjoyed a more gratifying sensation than when he taught her, showed her, offered her the complete pleasure a man can give his beloved.
Her body moved under his eager hands, yielding to them, surrendering to his thirst. He wanted to touch, to kiss, to taste every part of her body in those sweet moments before she became a woman—his woman—to keep her maidenly flavour forever in his mind and in his senses.
He whispered his desire to her, and her body shivered in torturous anticipation of his promise. With infinite and tender patience, his ardent love conquered and overwhelmed her. She allowed herself to be overcome by his passion and by her own desire.
Each part of her body begged for his touch while each part of her skin that had felt the exquisite torture of his lips, his tongue, and his fingers longed for their return.
He seemed to know her desires better than she did.
His hand slid with gentle determination to her thighs and rested upon them for an instant.
Then his fingers glided to part them with burning strokes, brushing along them tenderly, drawing all her senses to the place that was still aching for his touch.
His lips returned to her mouth, and hers joined them eagerly.
The kiss grew wilder, their tongues tantalising each other in sensual domination.
His fingers climbed to the warmth between her legs, to the only part of her body he had not yet conquered.
Countless chills ran throughout her body.
She moaned, and a scream escaped against his mouth as her legs gripped his hand.
Every stroke left her wanting more, every daring touch seemed to be the answer to the deepest need inside her.
Every sensation she had experienced before was a pale prelude to what he was offering her at that moment.
When the pleasure became unbearable, he gave her more.
His lips left hers and again journeyed to her breasts, kissing them briefly then resuming their exploration lower until they pressed against her inner thighs and his tongue tasted the skin near his fingers.
She quivered and bit her lips to stop another scream; her body was begging with anticipation for what might come while her mind, clouded by desire, refused to believe that something like this could truly happen.
The shock of feeling the softness of his lips on her most intimate place and the unbearable pleasure that followed seemed to last an eternity, throwing her into the midst of an abyss of fire and ice.
When her senses returned, she felt his weight upon her and his body—warm and naked—imprisoning her. His eyes were deeper and darker than ever, gazing at her with unleashed desire. His hand moved to her face, caressing her with a tenderness that melted her heart.
She had often dreamed about the moment she would become his wife—and now the moment had arrived.
He smiled at her adoringly while his body—strong, powerful, possessive—broke the final barrier to their complete union.
Her soft cry cut his heart, and tenderness warred with passion.
His heart ached for her and tried to comfort her.
He knew he should stop, but his body was not listening.
He tried to fight but failed. His body seemed to have a will of its own, demanding the long-awaited completion.
The glorious feeling of being inside her and taking her as his wife was more than he had ever experienced, and the pleasure overwhelmed him.
He managed to control himself briefly, slowing his movements and allowing her to become accustomed to him.
Her eyes were closed, and he kissed them open; he wanted to see them, to read them.
He searched her face, which still wore a faint trace of pain.
She relaxed slightly and smiled at him, her hands embracing him as she moved slowly beneath him.
His body began to move too, as if by itself, despite his struggle.
His lips kissed and moistened her dry mouth, and her moans ceased. He feared he had caused her pain, and he asked her, whispering to her his worry and his love.
She caressed his face. She barely understood his words, but her mind and body slowly relaxed under the comfort of his lips and the warmth of his voice. His kisses travelled towards her lips, her cheeks, her trembling chin while she wondered how such painful, tormenting pleasure could exist.
His love was conquering her; he filled her with his passion, taking her as his wife. She could feel him inside her, joined with her in perfect completion. The pain was stronger and sharper than she had imagined it would be, but the pleasure was also greater than she had dreamed.
Her body struggled to learn the moves of shared passion, tentatively at first. Unconsciously, her legs encircled his waist, pulling him even closer.
With a husky groan, he thrust deeper and harder inside her; his lips captured hers again as the rhythm of their joined bodies grew wildly until the two became one.
It was not him and her anymore, but them.
He finally reached the long-desired moment, spreading warm waves inside her trembling body; his hoarse groans combined with the soft cries escaping her swollen lips.
Some time passed before either could breathe steadily again, but still they did not pull apart. They remained closely entwined, belonging to each other in that moment of blissful felicity.
Words were not needed.
Elizabeth’s head was nestled against Darcy’ heart; her long hair caressed him, and his hands continued tenderly to stroke her smooth back, while his fingers played with her locks. Eventually—exhausted, happy, fulfilled—she fell asleep, listening to her husband’s heart beating for her.
Darcy did not sleep; he could not and would not. Overwhelmed by a delight he was eager to feel again, enraptured by the charm of the woman who just became his beloved wife, and painfully aware of the beautiful body resting naked in his arms and her intoxicating scent, he waited for her to rest.
He wanted nothing more than to love her again and again until he satisfied the hunger that had just awakened.
But he knew he had to wait for that. He now could fight and control his desires to satisfy hers.
He should and would be patient for her. He had all the time in the world—a lifetime—to teach her and to learn together about passion and pleasure.
“My love?” she called him unexpectedly, and he startled.
“Yes, dearest. I thought you were sleeping,” he whispered, kissing the lobe of her ear.
“I am not—yet. I just wished to tell you how much I love being your wife.”
He was surprised—and delighted.
“I hope you will love it even more, my darling wife. But we shall talk more about this tomorrow…and many days and nights to follow.”
She remembered those words from the night of their reconciliation and laughed, placing a soft kiss upon his heart. Then she fell asleep in his arms, confident that she could always trust his promises.