Chapter 16 If Mr. Darcy Dared

Darcy looked at the door, then at Elizabeth, then back at the door. And he made a decision. “I am going to go lock that door, and what if I could show you that yearning we both feel can lead to a much-needed relief?”

Elizabeth hesitated. She had been taught that to grant a man any favors could leave her with child. And with their wedding months away, even she knew such relief would come with a hefty price.

As if sensing her reluctance, Mr. Darcy explained. “There would be no risk of a babe. There is a long list of experiences a husband and wife can deploy for such delights.”

She gave him a single quick nod, and he dashed to the door to turn the lock. As he walked back, Elizabeth’s eyes stared not at his handsome face, but the other part of his body he had just acquainted her with.

“I can still see that you are . . .” she trailed off as Mr. Darcy did not sit down next to her. Instead, his broad frame towered over hers so that she naturally lay back. He silenced her with kisses as he did not press his full weight upon her. But his knee most decidedly took a position between her thighs, and as she unconsciously began to rub herself, he lowered his hips so that her movements provided the same friction to his member.

Rocking together, they both enjoyed this new closeness while kissing and running their hands over any part of the other they could. Mr. Darcy returned to his care of her breasts and nipples. Elizabeth realized, though her hands could not reach fully, she could lift her thigh ever so slightly and bring an additional groan from her intended. Still, these movements did nothing to absolve the yearning she felt, and before she could ask, Mr. Darcy pulled away, leaving her suddenly bereft which was not what she wanted at all!

Propping herself up on the backs of her elbows, she thought to right her position as he sat at the end of her legs. But his hand grasped her ankle and slid her down the sofa a few inches. She understood he wished for her to remain lying down.

“I promise this will not risk a child, but it will provide a slight approximation of what we can both experience when we join.” His hands waited to see if she protested, but instead, she only tensed with nerves. Slowly, he slid his right hand up her legs, causing her to jostle and laugh.

“Ticklish?” he asked.

“Very—” she started then gasped as he hastened his journey and his fingers expertly moved aside her chemise and cupped her mons of Venus. As his finger stroked the warm outside, his thumb slipped between her folds to find the lovely pearl at the apex. Gently, he rolled his thumb over her sex, dipping further down slightly to touch the pooling wetness his Elizabeth produced for him.

With her eyes closed and her moaning, she could not see Mr. Darcy scrunch his nose as his anatomy twitched and pulsed, aching to enter her sacred space. But today, it could only be his fingers. Watching his Elizabeth take her pleasure inflamed his senses further as his left hand found its place between his legs to provide a modicum of relief.

Naturally, he twisted his wrist as Elizabeth writhed and moaned, her hips bucking against his hand as her body knew without a doubt it needed more even if her lips could not demand such. Gingerly, Fitzwilliam slid a finger into the space meant for him, and she held her breath. He carefully slid his finger out, all while still rubbing her apex with his thumb, then plunged in again, further as Elizabeth moaned his name out loud.

“FITZWILLIAM!” she started, her eyes opening to look for him, her hands reaching up erratically.

“I’m here, my darling, but you must quiet,” he said, furtively looking at the door that was locked. His left hand was still stroking his needs as his right continued the exploration of Elizabeth’s grace.

She took his warning to heart and hastily placed her thumb in her mouth to keep her lips closed. The sight of such a display made Fitzwilliam start and jerk as his completion could not be delayed further. Still, he rubbed Elizabeth’s most sensitive spot and slid a second finger into her folds, finally feeling the tensing and throbbing he desired. Her hips rocked against his hand as his own seed pulsed and throbbed out of his member. Frantically matching her pace, a moment later his hand was covered in her essence that flowed free. Then she stilled and breathed more regularly.

Gently, he pulled his fingers from under her skirts and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe off the excess. He had other thoughts about tasting such a delight but did not wish to frighten her after such a successful first excursion.

“Mm,” she started as she stretched her body like a sleepy, lithe feline. “How do married people ever leave their bedroom?”

Mr. Darcy laughed, and this time Elizabeth rose and laughed with him.

“It is a mystery. Though I believe there is a customary initial period in which no one sees a newly married couple for some time,” he teased back.

Suddenly, Elizabeth grew concerned, and she tucked up onto her knees to look astutely at the fall of Mr. Darcy’s breeches. Gone was the bulge she had seen before.

“What about your needs? I can hardly promise the knowledge to give you such rapture as you’ve granted me. But I also could never deny you such a pleasure without feeling wretched,” she started to reach her hand out to touch where she had before, but he caught it and gently shook his head.

“It is now my place to feel embarrassed. I’m afraid watching you was enough to bring my own spill.”

“Spill?” She wrinkled her nose. “Is that what that delightful feeling is called?”

“Er, no.” Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “I believe in textbooks you will find the words orgasm and erection,” he stopped when her eyes suddenly widened. He considered her for a moment, then despite the discomfort of his own orgasm still needing attention, he asked her a question. “Have you read these words before?”

Elizabeth stood from the sofa and smoothed her skirts before sitting back down as a proper lady might, with no tell-tale sign that she’d just enjoyed such a sexual delight. “There are books on my father’s top shelf. I wasn’t supposed to read them.”

“Ah, but you were curious.”

She turned and looked at him, unabashed that he did not seem to pass judgment. “And you? Is that how you learned?”

Mr. Darcy began to cough. “Some. But we should perhaps save that discussion for later. I must excuse myself to my room,” he said just as a darkened spot began to appear on the outside of his breeches. Elizabeth followed his gaze and stifled her laughter.

“Oh dear, I see, yes, it is different for men, than for ladies,” she remarked.

“In measure, perhaps, but not in pleasure, I believe.”

She agreed with him and smirked as he rose to walk awkwardly to the door. Just as he reached it, she called out.

“Grab a book, Mr. Darcy. Then you might carry it up to your room, and no servant will be the wiser,” she called.

Mr. Darcy grimaced but found her plan to be an excellent one.

He managed to make it to his room and change his lower garments into a pair of breeches of a similar color and wear. It was lucky that he was a man of steady taste and did not take much to the new fashion of various trousers with pinstripes and a variety of colors. He had not even called his man for such a personal situation since Elizabeth was not his wife. He would instead suffer the unspoken embarrassment when his valet collected the clothing for laundry, and leave it as he was a man early to his arrival, but not besmirch her reputation in the least.

Once he had finished putting his last boot on, he checked his reflection in the mirror, then strolled down the hall, past Bingley’s room. He could hear the distinct sounds of two voices, one a lady’s and the other Charles, and Darcy smiled. Where they only had mere weeks to wait, he and Elizabeth must wait months. There could be no anticipation of their vows, not entirely at least.

His smile lasted as he passed a maid on the stairs, and two footmen in the hall. When at last he reached the library, he paused in the middle of the room. There was Elizabeth, fast asleep, with a book in her hands that was slipping to the floor. He jaunted forward to grasp the book, running his thumb over the spine.

Romeo and Juliet.

Opening the book up for his own rereading of the play, he took a seat by the fire where he could easily keep an eye on his slumbering miss and be in the line of sight of the door. By his estimations, luncheon would likely be delayed another half hour, and when they would all finally dine, both couples would feel the need for nourishment after such romantic liaisons.