Chapter 20 #2
She arched into him, wanting more. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair, holding him where she wanted him. “So good.”
He took his time, laving and nipping and learning her body. Just when she thought she could bear no more, he turned his attention to her other breast. She wriggled beneath him, her senses heightened, each caress a revelation.
“I want to taste every inch of you,” he said. “Will you let me?”
“Please,” she said, pulsing with desire, unsure how to ask for what she wanted, but confident that Darcy would give it to her.
He moved lower, kissing her belly and licking the hollow of her hipbone. His hands explored the shape of her thighs, exposing her intimate places to his eyes, scenting the air with her feminine musk.
He touched her with reverence, with growing certainty, coaxing from her a shiver, then another, until her fingers tightened around the sheets.
Then, his mouth was on her, his clever tongue finding the tender bud at the apex of her sex. She squealed and panted, equal parts shocked and aroused. She thought to protest, but…
“Oh, Darcy, that’s so good.”
“Tell me what you like.” His tongue dipped inside her. “I want to give you pleasure.”
“That. Everything you’re doing. More of that.”
He continued his ministrations with the tip of his tongue, greedily licking and suckling her throbbing flesh. Her need intensified, and she yearned for him in places she didn’t know existed.
Time narrowed to the warmth of his mouth and the aching sweetness he drew from her. She undulated her hips, chasing her pleasure. “That’s it,” she cried as he sucked her throbbing pearl. He doubled down with an energy that stole her control.
She broke on a startled cry as the pleasure crested—so swift, so deep it stole her breath. Wave after wave of bliss rocked her. Darcy rode the trembling swells with her, continuing his rhythm until her breathing slowed.
Then, he kissed up her body, enclosing her in his arms and murmuring endearments into her hair. She hid her face in his neck, burrowing into his heat, boneless and spent. Emotion overwhelmed her. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
His voice was husky, reverent. “We have so much to discover, my love.”
“Speaking of that…” Slowly, she ran her hand down his chest, his taut stomach, and found his manhood. With eager caution, she took it into her hand. He groaned as she explored the flared tip, the satin skin over the hard shaft. “Show me how to touch you.”
His large hand encompassed her smaller one, teaching her to stroke and squeeze him. She loved the sense of discovery, knowing she could evoke such pleasure from him. He captured her mouth with his own and said, “If you keep doing that, I won’t last.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she didn’t protest as he rolled her onto her back. He hovered over her, his sex resting heavily against hers. “It may hurt this first time,” he said. “I’ll be as gentle as I can. We can stop if it’s too much.”
“I trust you.” She cradled his face in her hands and gave him a hard kiss. Her voice was fierce and breathless. “I don’t want to wait.”
He answered with a ragged groan. For one suspended moment, he simply looked at her, his face luminous in the firelight.
He positioned himself at her entrance and slowly, carefully, leant forward. Her body offered no resistance as he inched inside. She gasped at the newness, at the bright, exquisite ache. He stilled at once, every muscle held in check.
“Breathe with me,” he said softly. “I can wait. We have all our lives.”
She did, and the ache melted into a delicious fullness, her body stretching to accommodate him.
He deepened his strokes, and a sudden pinch made her gasp. He eased back, but she arched towards him. Her hands clutched his rear. “Don’t stop.”
He thrust inside until he was fully seated. She encouraged him with a moan of pleasure. “That’s so lovely.”
He pulled back and thrust inside again on a long stroke. In an uncertain tone, he asked, “How’s that?”
“More.” They found a rhythm, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deep.
∞∞∞
Darcy gazed at his wife in awe, his body taut with need. Sliding into her heat was pure decadence. She met him with no hint of shyness, her sighs and whispered endearments magnifying his delight.
When she shifted beneath him, he barely hung onto control. The sensation of her engulfing him was the greatest bliss he had ever known. Her body welcomed him, her hands clutching him greedily. Their gentle rhythm grew more insistent.
“So good,” he panted. “Your body was made for me.”
“Yes, Darcy.” A blush rose on Lizzy’s cheeks as he angled himself to increase her pleasure. “Oh, yes, just like that.”
She ran her fingers along his back. Her hands heated his skin, his muscles tightening. Each kiss was a promise, each caress an answering vow.
He revelled in the sensation of their joining, in the mutual giving and taking. Her dark eyes radiated wantonness and passion. He returned the force of her gaze as she pressed her captivating curves against him.
The movement of their bodies intensified, driven by the raw excitement of discovery and hunger. Darcy’s control thinned as her body clenched around him, urging his release.
His pleasure built—hot, lush, inevitable. Groaning, he sank his teeth into his lower lip. The sudden pain helped him hold on, just barely. He ground his hips into hers. Her body tensed, and he quickened his pace, thrusting deep inside her.
She clung to him, eyes on his, then, cried out and tumbled over the edge. He milked her pleasure as she quivered around him, her vibrations stealing the last of his restraint.
With a cry, he surrendered to the euphoria of their union, his gratification sweeping over him like a rushing river. Calling out her name in ecstasy, he shuddered and poured himself into her, his seed filling her.
He cradled her in his arms, still nestled inside her as she relaxed and melted around him. They were heartbeat and breath and the soft weight of bodies too sated to do more than hold fast.
With a gentle sigh, he pulled out and collapsed beside her on the bed. She rolled to face him, and soon they were entangled with each other. Her fingers traced soothing circles on his back.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, kissing her hair.
“We’re incredible together.” She leant in, her bare skin like silk against his, their bodies tethered by love.
He kissed her forehead like a benediction. Smoothing a curl from her brow, he studied her with earnest gravity. “I cannot fathom what I did to deserve you.”
“You devoted yourself to me,” she said sweetly. “You trusted my sister and helped clear her good name. I’ve never met a better man—or for that matter, one half so good.”
He bent and kissed the corner of her mouth. “For the rest of my life, I shall be grateful that you married me.”
“Then we’re equally matched.” She stretched like a contented cat.
He tucked the coverlet snugly about her shoulders. “Sleep, Mrs. Darcy.”
She touched his lips as if to capture the words, slid her finger down to the dimple in his chin. “Say it again.”
“Mrs. Darcy,” he obliged, his voice low and obedient. He nuzzled her hair. “My Elizabeth. My wife.”
Her lips curved, and her breathing softened into the even tide of slumber. He lay wakeful a little longer, listening to the city settle beyond the window, to the quiet hiss of the fire, to the steady, astonishing rhythm of her heartbeat where it mingled with his own.
Then, he slid down beneath the coverlet and gathered her against him—happily, gloriously married.