Chapter 23 #3
“No indeed, I practiced only a few times because Cassandra forced me. I do not need to practice too much in order to be proficient,” he said with a laugh, and she narrowed her eyes, still incredulous.
“Elizabeth, I never danced the waltz in public except with you at the Netherfield Ball,” he continued, more seriously.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
On the small settee, near the peaceful warmth of the fire, they took each other’s hands and their fingers entwined in a tender caress; the box was in Elizabeth’s lap, and still holding her hand, Darcy opened it again and the sound of music wrapped them anew. Her eyes sparkled with emotion and love.
“You know, William, that evening in London at Cassandra’s ball, when you asked me to dance with you after you had just refused Cassandra…”
“Yes?” He turned to embrace her closely, his lips resting on her temple.
“Oh, nothing. Let us not speak of that now.” She abandoned her idea, but he would not.
“You must tell me once you started, Elizabeth.”
“I will…tomorrow,” she replied and then turned her face so their lips almost touched. Darcy was tempted to insist, but the sweetness of her lips was too appealing—so he tasted them and forgot what he wanted to ask.
Her mouth parted with loving abandon while his hands travelled along her arms and lingered on her shoulders, then gently unfastened her night robe and removed it. She shivered—not from chill but from the touch of his burning fingers on her skin.
“Elizabeth?” he said breathlessly, their mouths unwilling to separate.
“Yes,” she barely managed to speak as she struggled for air.
“Can we postpone the waltz lessons for another evening?”
Elizabeth laughed only a moment before his lips captured hers again; suddenly, the music box became an obstacle, and she put it down as gently as she could.
As though that was the sign he waited for, she felt herself lowered to the settee, his weight almost crushing her and his kisses becoming more possessive.
The settee was small, and he was so tall and heavy that Elizabeth was certain she would faint from lack of air.
However, just as she was pondering this, she felt free, though her lips were still engaged with his.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw him kneeling at her side.
Darcy withdrew from her enough for their eyes to meet; his fingers tenderly removed a lock of hair from her forehead and then brushed over her red, swollen lips; she caressed his face, and then her hands sneaked into his hair.
Slowly, he leaned closer to her again, but this time his mouth travelled down from her chin along her throat; each spot of her bare skin shivered under his intoxicating exploration while his hands carefully lowered the gown from her shoulders.
She knew—she hoped for—what would follow, and the wait was unbearable.
Although she was anticipating it, the gentle, tentative touch of his fingers over her breasts startled her, and she moaned loudly as her back arched toward his touch.
His caress, shy at first, became daring and more passionate, tracing torturous circles until his palms possessively cupped their roundness and rested there.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and she moaned again, turning her head in search of his lips.
Yet, he avoided the kiss; instead, his mouth resumed its journey and one of his hands withdrew from its smooth captive, to allow his mouth to satiate its hunger.
His lips traced a burning line over her skin, exploring and tasting with passionate urgency.
His hand was now free to conquer the last unrevealed parts of her body; the thin silk fabric of her gown was soft, and his fingers, strong yet gentle, stroked her legs and then travelled up, pressing gently against her skin.
Instinctively, her thighs locked together, but his hand continued its conquest; with tender care, his strokes tantalised her legs and parted them daringly.
Soon, no opposition remained and, to Elizabeth’s shock, his hand moved a little higher.
She could not suppress a cry, and shocked, she tried to clasp her thighs again.
She heard him whispering her name and wished to understand his words but could not.
His mouth hungrily captured her other breast and she exclaimed again as her entire body arched.
For Elizabeth, every sense was divided between the sweet torture of his lips on her skin and that most intimate part of her body, where his fingers began an intoxicating exploration.
This cannot be happening—a vague notion—but an instant later, any reasonable thought vanished; she cried his name and her voice sounded so strange to her.
Then, a few moments later, she heard nothing as waves of pleasure violently exploded in her body and everything turned dark around her.
It took some time before she could—and dared—open her eyes and was able to distinguish his face in the dim firelight.
He was smiling, and she forced a smile in return; with mortification, she realised he was still kneeling beside her, one of his hands resting on her breast as the other gently caressed her inner thigh.
She wanted to move, but he would not allow it; he covered her face with small kisses while she averted her eyes.
Her mind told her that what happened was mortifyingly improper, while her senses confessed that nothing could possibly exist more blissfully pleasant than what she had just experienced.
“You are more beautiful than I have ever dreamed, Elizabeth,” he whispered. “And you are all mine now…”
She looked at him puzzled, her cheeks flushed. “Is it…is it all done then?”
He laughed, and she averted her eyes again, even more embarrassed.
“No, my love, it has only begun. We should move to the bed now.”
Her nightgown was discarded; she felt herself being lifted in his arms and carried across the room.
Darcy laid her on the bed, and she instantly nestled beneath the sheets to conceal herself from his intense stare.
He slowly removed his nightshirt; her cheeks coloured as her eyes desperately tried not to look at his intimidating figure.
His naked body protectively touched hers under the silky sheets and his arms enfolded her.
“What is wrong, my love?”
Her head cuddled on his chest and she sighed when she could hear his heart beating. Her hands moved to encircle his waist but his skin –so fully exposed to her touch—made her shy, and her hands dared go no further.
“Nothing is wrong. It is just…”
“Yes?”
“I never thought…Everything that happened was so…”
She struggled to find the words as she fought against her own embarrassment.
“My love, you worry me. Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, no! It is just that I never imagined you. . . It was so unexpected…”
“I see.” His voiced changed instantly, and a warm whisper close to her ear made her shiver.
“So…may I dare presume you found it unexpected…in an enjoyable way?”
His tongue shamelessly tantalised her earlobe and she shivered with nervous delight.
“Oh please stop. I cannot possibly speak of that. It is so embarrassing!”
“This is quite astonishing, Mrs Darcy. I used to believe you could speak easily on any subject, and I thought we clarified the matter of embarrassment earlier in the carriage, but it seems you have already forgotten our agreement. I am truly disappointed to discover that so soon after our wedding.”
Darcy’s voice could barely conceal his mirth as he scolded her with mocking sincerity. Elizabeth lifted her head slightly to meet his eyes and cast a sharp glance at him.
“You are a cruel man, sir, to trifle with me in such a way. I would not expect that of you. You should know this is not a proper time for teasing.”
“I might be cruel sometimes, I will admit that. It is unfortunate, too, that you discovered my cruelty after the wedding.”
“It is, indeed.” She was forced to regain her spirit as their mocking argument continued.
“There is little either of us can do now, Mrs Darcy, except to reconcile with our mutual disappointment and try to reach some sort of understanding. I will start by agreeing with you on one important point: this is not a proper time for teasing.”
They were his last coherent words before he assaulted her with renewed passion and desire, and Elizabeth surrendered completely; every touch, every kiss, every stroke seemed even more irresistible, as this time she knew what they would bring.
Her body seemed to possess a will of its own, and every reaction was a plea for more.
For a while, she tried to keep the covers around her, but his greedy hands kept pushing them away.
“I want to see you, Elizabeth…please,” he begged.
Her inner battle between reason and passion was won by the latter.
When his hand intimately stroked her thighs again, they parted with welcoming desire.
His caresses climbed along her legs again, and she moaned loudly, imagining what would follow.
Yet, what followed was not what she anticipated.
In disbelief, she felt his lips travel down from her breasts to her flat stomach, amuse themselves with her navel, and continue until his mouth nipped lightly at her inner thigh.
With shocked astonishment, her head spinning, she felt her legs parted, and his burning lips traced a line of fire along her thighs as his voice, hoarse with passion, said, “I want to taste every inch of you, Elizabeth.” She was not certain of his meaning until his kisses moved closer and closer, and at that moment, she stopped breathing.
Her mind was screaming that he must stop whatever he was doing.
Yet, the voice of her mind was a weak whisper compared to her body’s demand for more.
The sensations she felt when his mouth replaced his fingers were astonishing and the world collapsed around her.
There was nothing except him and the storm of pleasure into which he threw her once more.