Chapter 1.23 #5
He felt her breath quicken and her heart beat wildly. She moved slightly in his embrace and turned her head so he could see her face. “Thank you.”
“I love you, Elizabeth,” he said, and again there was silence for a while. Darcy was certain she had fallen asleep, but he was proved wrong a few minutes later.
“It was painful but in a pleasant way,” she confessed unexpectedly, and he startled.
“I am sorry,” he said, somehow distressed, but she chuckled.
“Do not be sorry. Becoming your wife has mirrored our relationship from the moment we met until now.”
“What do you mean?” he inquired, puzzled.
“I mean—quite painful at times, occasionally distressing, but in essentials exceptionally enjoyable. I confess I have no cause to repine.”
She laughed, hiding her head against the pillows, and he breathed in relief. Finally, she was her usual self again. He could not see her, but he could feel her smile through every fibre of his body.
“I am very glad to hear that, Mrs Darcy.” There was another moment of silence before he continued.
“May I dare hope your distress is now gone and you will finally turn to look at me?” His voice was husky, and his lips were placing soft kisses along her ear; she shivered but remained still.
“My distress is gone indeed, but I would rather not turn.”
“You would not? Are you still upset with me?” he asked, quite worried.
“No indeed, sir, quite the contrary. I would rather remain as we are only because I find it very pleasant being held like this,” she admitted.
“Oh, now I see.” He finally understood. His fingers removed the locks of her hair from her ear, baring her cheek and neck, and then continued to caress her soft skin tenderly.
“Then please do not turn around, Mrs Darcy. I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours.”
Elizabeth laughed nervously, suppressing a moan as her skin quivered beneath his kisses.
His hands started to move daringly along her body—so fully exposed to his passionate exploration.
One hand encircled her waist, stroked her belly and then slid down to her thighs, while the other possessively cupped her breasts; his fingers traced tingling circles around each of them, teasing her nipples, which hardened with desire.
Her body writhed and pushed against his, imprisoned by his possessive touches; his arms tightened their grip, pulling her closer to him and gently commanding her to obey his wishes.
She felt his chest against her back, his strong legs entwined with hers and his thighs pressing against her bottom.
She could feel his desire arousing again, and a sense of fear and passionate desire shattered her body.
“Allow me to make you a promise, Mrs Darcy.” She was not certain if he truly spoke or only the touch of his tongue made her dream it.
“Please do so, sir,” she answered breathlessly. Her head turned a little so her dry lips could finally meet his.
“You said that becoming my wife had been sometimes painful and distressing…”
“And exceptionally enjoyable…”
“I promise that being my wife will never be painful—as long as it is in my power to prevent it.”
“I do trust you in that, sir,” she replied, and that shared promise seemed awkwardly serious considering the circumstances.
“And it will also be much more enjoyable than it has been so far—as long as it is in my power to accomplish it,” he added more lightly, smiling mischievously against her lips, which he eventually captured with passion.
“I do not believe it can get much more enjoyable than what has already transpired between us.”
“You must trust me in this too, my dearest wife,” he said, barely able to speak as his lips were more agreeably engaged. “As I already said, this is quite a new experience for me as well. I can truthfully say that the more I practice, the more proficient I become. Would you not agree?”
She would laugh at his shameless promise, but she found herself crying her pleasure as his fingers daringly touched the warmth between her thighs.
The strokes—long, gentle, and tantalisingly slow at first—turned into a wild torture.
She finally turned in his arms to face him, but their eyes met only for a moment as his lips journeyed along her jaw line, briefly tasting her chin before moving to her throat until his hungry mouth reached the softness of her round breasts.
His lips closed around her nipple and she cried again while passion conquered her once more.
Moment by moment, the urge, the longing to feel him inside her again grew unbearable, defeating any remnants of fear or pain—and she pleaded with him, begged him until her longing was finally satisfied.
A brief, sharp pain and he entered her again with renewed, unleashed desire.
As she was thrown into a storm of feelings, wondering how he could be so strong and large—yet fit so perfectly within her—possessive and almost wild in his thrusts, yet so tender and caring, a single thought crossed her mind: he was right again.
Now that she was his wife, everything was less painful and more blissfully enjoyable than ever before.