Chapter 2.22 #8
“William, please…” she begged, grabbing the sheets with her fists as her hips began to move instinctively.
She bit her lips painfully when she felt his tongue exploring her core, tentatively at first then more daringly, tasting her with an intimacy that was difficult to accept, but she craved more.
He was gently conquering her inch by inch with an insatiable need until she knew nothing else.
A deep moan escaped her as she struggled for air, and she shattered violently under the countless chills that shivered throughout her burning skin.
Slowly, his caresses returned up along her body; his lips returned to taste her breasts then her arms, shoulders and throat; then he stopped to tantalise her ear.
“Are you well, my love?”
“You are a cruel man to tease me so,” she whispered, her mouth finally joining his. “You cannot possible imagine what I feel…”
“I do not tease you, my beloved; what you feel cannot be more powerful than my own feelings, and your pleasure is mine, too.” He lay atop her again between her parted legs then abandoned her mouth and kissed her closed lashes.
“Open your eyes, my love. I want to see you… I want to watch you become my wife,” he said, and she forced her eyes to meet his.
She felt his hand gently brushing between her thighs, then his hardness pressing against her core; she moaned, a strong sense of fear and happy anticipation making her heart race.
She thought she knew what to expect, and neither her body nor her mind could bear to wait longer—so she opened herself to him.
“You know it will be painful at first,” he said, and she nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
Slowly, gently, he entered her only a little.
She gasped but she held his gaze. He smiled, and his hands grabbed hers, entwining their fingers in a tight grip while a strong, eager, powerful stroke was enough for him to enter her completely.
Her body instantly arched and stiffened from the pain—stronger and sharper than she expected and a deep cry escaped her lips.
“Oh, God, my love,” he moaned, remaining still, trying to breathe steadily, his eyes caressing her face as their hands remained clasped. “You are completely mine now,” he moaned, his lips brushing over hers.
She felt there was not enough air to cool the fire enveloping her. He was completely inside her, filling her with his burning heat, with his powerful passion, and she could feel him pulsing in her. “I can feel you inside me,” she whispered.
“Is it very painful?” he asked, and she silently denied it, trying to smile at him. It was painful indeed, as she felt her body split apart, but the happiness of having him inside her, of finally becoming his wife in every sense, made it worthwhile.
He began to move slowly, watching her face intently. He knew it was painful for her, he could see it on her beautiful face, but he could also see that she was welcoming their first joining.
“I love you so much, my beautiful wife,” he said, fighting an urge that almost overcame his patience, struggling to control his movements and be gentle for her.
She moaned from the painful pleasure building inside her, and her fingers caressed his handsome face. “I love you, my husband,” she replied, her eyes sparkling.
Her body tried to learn the rhythm of their shared love, moving tentatively beneath him but his slow movements soon became thrusts—faster, deeper, stronger—his deep moans burning her skin.
He spoke to her but she could not understand his words.
Nothing mattered but his love overwhelming her as their rhythms grew wildly fervent; ecstasy, possessiveness, abandon, tenderness, and passion seemed to grow every moment in astonishing repetition.
After a seemingly endless time, his moans covering her soft cries, he finally reached his long desired completion; his body shattered in release while warm waves spread inside her trembling body and everything else vanished around them…
Breathless and exhausted in their happiness, tightly embraced, they lay next to each other. A silence surrounded them as peaceful as their complete happiness. He tenderly kissed her hair, and she cuddled in his arms, wrapped in her husband’s love.
“You were right,” she whispered after a few long minutes. He said nothing, so she continued, puzzled. “Will you not ask me what I mean?”
“Hmm…not really…” he said teasingly, fondling her ear and neck. “Please allow me to try to guess your meaning, Mrs Darcy. Could you possibly mean that I was right when I told you there is much more than we experienced two days ago at the inn?”
She was speechless for a few moments then looked at him in obvious surprise.
“Are you reading my thoughts now, Mr Darcy? You must be a ‘man without fault,’ after all,” she teased him, finding a better place to rest her head on his chest. He took her hand and tenderly kissed it then placed it upon his heart.
“As I said before, I am not perfect, my dearest wife. I just hope that I am good enough for you.”
“Of that, you may have no doubts, my love. We are to be the happiest couple in the world,” she sighed only a moment before fatigue finally overcame her.
Late in the night, tightly wrapped in their own happiness, Mr and Mrs Darcy finally fell asleep in the comfort of their own home—at Pemberley.