Chapter 3.4 #2
She felt his gaze deep inside her, invading her soul; her skin quivered with each word.
“Please do not restrain yourself from anything you want, my husband. It matters little where we are since we are together. I always insisted I would only marry for love, but I never imagined love could feel this way.”
She blushed at the double meaning of her words but continued.
“I mean both in mind, in heart, and in body. There is a flame that burns within me whenever I am with you, so powerful that it frightens me. I have read about this, and I talked to my aunt Gardiner about the felicity of marriage, but nothing compares to what I feel. And I know that decorum requires me to be ashamed of what happened earlier in the carriage. But I am not. All I can think of is what might follow, what else you might teach me.”
“My beloved Elizabeth, you must never be ashamed of anything you feel,” he replied, tightening his arms around her. “You cannot imagine how happy your words make me, just as you cannot imagine how strong, how frighteningly powerful my own feelings are for you.”
“Then show me, my beloved husband. Forget where we are and show me…”
Her gaze deepened into his eyes, and his reason was soon defeated.
“Very well, my love. You will become my wife completely only when we arrive home. But there is more I can show you until then, and many proofs of my passion that I can give you.”
Darcy pulled her against his chest, and his mouth captured hers until both lost their breath.
Even then, the kiss did not break. Elizabeth sensed his hands caressing her legs and lifting her nightgown, and she moaned in pleasant anticipation of what would come.
She wished to tell him to move to the bed and blow out the candles, as her gown was already up to her thighs.
But she could not speak through imprisoned lips. She gasped in surprise when she felt lifted and placed astride his lap. He caressed her spine, her neck, and her shoulders while her breasts brushed his chest.
After some tormenting moments, he finally withdrew a bit, looking at her. He was smiling while her cheeks burned in embarrassment. To her complete shock, he rose, still holding her in his arms; she gasped, clasping her legs around his waist to avoid falling.
He kissed her again, moving with her across the room. She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror but did not dare look further.
Eventually, he sat on the edge of the bed and then climbed into it, never releasing their embrace. He leaned back against the pillows while she struggled to adjust her position. He released her legs and placed her knees at his sides.
“Are you well, my love? Should I stop?” he asked hoarsely.
She silenced him with a passionate kiss of her own in which he readily engaged.
“Would you like to feel how much I desire you, my darling?” he moaned, pulling her against him.
“Yes,” she murmured. Her senses were in torment, and she was not aware of his intentions until she felt his hardness pressing against her inner thighs through the silk of her nightgown and the fabric of his nightshirt.
She cried, but their joined mouths crushed the sound of her delight.
“Elizabeth…” he whispered, biting her earlobe.
His hands held her hips possessively, stroking her body against his.
With astonishment and strange, deep pleasure, she felt him growing harder and stronger, and she continued the torturous movements herself, first shyly, then more daringly, driven by his moans and her own.
“Yes, my love, this is just perfect—please do not stop,” Darcy begged.
Her delight increased, and her restraint vanished as she understood she was pleasing him.
Her strokes became more daring with his every whisper.
He cupped her face and kissed her as he lowered the gown from her shoulders.
She broke the kiss only a moment, helping him take off his shirt.
Her breasts were crushed against his bare chest, and the delicious sensation made them groan and kiss again, more possessively.
He caressed her back then lowered and lingered on her hips and thighs.
His mouth then abandoned hers and moved to her throat. He pushed her backwards so his greedy eyes could finally enjoy her beauty.
“My love,” he whispered as she closed her eyes. Her head leaned back, her hair falling on her naked skin and his. Then his fingers brushed against her breasts, cupped them and caressed their roundness with eager tenderness.
“Please…” It was her turn to beg, and an instant later, his mouth hastily replaced his hands, covering the soft skin with countless kisses—sucking, tasting, savouring. And it was still too little for them both.
She called his name, and her plea only increased his desire.
His mouth did not abandon her breasts; his hands caressed her inner thighs, and inside her a fire was growing.
Her skin was torn between the inner warmth and freezing chills.
His fingers finally touched her core with daring possessiveness, as he did not doubt her desire.
Her body stroked against his hardness, her breasts still bearing the sweet torture of his mouth and her core the tender touch of his fingers.
The storm of sensations she experienced earlier grew even stronger, and suddenly, she could neither think nor move.
As her moves ceased, he kissed her lips again, and with gentle determination, his hands commanded her hips to resume their dance.
With its own will, her body obeyed, and their movements began anew, stronger and faster until loud moans burst from them at the same time, quickly covered by a deep kiss.
A moment later, their bodies shattered together in an exhausting release of restrained passion.
Neither could speak nor breathe easily for a time. Elizabeth’s head rested on his shoulder, and he gently caressed her back and her hair.
He withdrew enough to face her. Their upper bodies were naked, their thighs still united. His fingers glided into her hair, tantalising her earlobe.
“Are you well, my love,” he asked. “You look so beautiful…”
She tried to smile and nodded, and he tenderly kissed her forehead.
“We should change our night clothes and try to sleep a little,” he said, and she nodded again.
He reluctantly pushed her away and left the bed, his back to her. He changed in a dark corner of the room while she held a sheet around her and put on another nightgown, grateful to her mother for purchasing several new ones.
They returned to bed, and Darcy embraced her again, placing the warm quilt around them. Their hands joined, and every gesture was now tender and comforting.
“Will you not tell me what you are thinking of?” he asked.
“Of you…only of you…of what you said earlier, that there is much more. I pray that the storm will end soon…”
“As do I, my love. Let us rest now.”
Darcy knew he could not possibly sleep; their little interlude was real torture for him—although the sweetest one. He smiled, recollecting the glow of her beautiful face and the sparkle of her eyes from the passion and pleasure they shared.
“Fitzwilliam?” Her voice startled him after the long moments of silence.
“Yes, my love?”
“I would like to show you how much I love and desire you. It is my turn. Will you teach me how to do it?”
His heart skipped a beat. Her tender, genuine plea stirred his blood, and he removed the quilt to cool himself. His body craved the sensations hidden within her words, but he kissed her temple and spoke softly.
“I shall teach you all and everything, my love…after we arrive home. Now, please speak no more as you are in danger of not sleeping at all till morning.”
She chuckled and pressed her lips where his heart was beating.
“Goodnight, Mr. Darcy,” were her last words before sleep eventually claimed her.
Darcy remained alert, listening to the rain and her steady breaths. From time to time, her hands moved along his body, caressing him in her dreams.
He too had caressed her in his dreams—awake or asleep—many days and nights.
He dreamed of her rather than trying to pursue her months ago.
But how weak his imagination had been and how poorly did he conjure her passion and desire.
The long delay in the completion of their marriage must be his punishment, he thought with amusement while placing a tender kiss on her hair.