Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (38 page)

“Bless your mother.”  He breathed and raked his eyes over her. 

“That is likely the first and last time I will ever hear that from your lips . . .” Elizabeth gasped when he strode forward and kissed her.  “Ohhhh.” 

“I had to . . . I had to . . .” Darcy regained some semblance of control and led her to the sofa.  He sat beside her, darting glances at the nearly nude woman with the cascading curls by his side, and trying desperately to calm his racing heart.  “Wine, my . . . Elizabeth?”

“Yes, thank you.”  She was intensely aware of his every move, and his eyes taking in her figure.  She bit her lip and he groaned, and quickly busied himself with the bottle, nearly spilling the wine as he poured.  Accomplishing the task, he handed her a glass, then took a long drink from his own before sliding back beside her.

“What is this?”  Elizabeth sipped her wine.

“Too sweet?”  And seeing the vintage colouring her lips, took the glass from her hand and set it down.  “Here, let me taste it.”  Tilting her chin up, he traced his tongue over her mouth.

“ohhh.”  A shiver travelled her body.  Darcy kissed her softly and drew away only far enough to read her eyes.  She swallowed and he caressed her hair.  “Fitzwilliam?”

“Your eyes . . . dearest, they tell me everything about you.”

“What are they saying?”  She read the struggle in his expression and rested her head back against his chest.  Darcy said nothing, only wrapping one arm around her while taking her hand.  He kissed her temple, drinking in the perfume, and rubbed his thumb over her wedding band while she watched.  In time, they both calmed.  “It is beautiful.”

“It was my grandmother’s.” 

“Not her wedding band?”

“Yes.”  Smiling, he looked at her.  “What else would it be?”

“It seems pristine, how long was she married?”

“Oh.”  Darcy thought.  “Well, I believe that she was . . . at least fifty when she died, so that would have made her married about seven and twenty years.”

“It was no love match, was it?”

“Well, it was an arranged marriage.  No, not a love match.”  He spoke softly.  “Why do you ask?”

“The engraving, the ring itself, everything is so perfect.”  Elizabeth traced over the pattern.  “Your grandmother never lifted a finger to do anything for herself, and she certainly never had a husband who enjoyed sitting with her and caressing her ring . . . like you are.” 

“So . . . do you mean that in seven and twenty years, your ring will be misshapen and the engraving worn away?”  Darcy smiled and kissed her fingers. 

“I certainly hope so.  I have definite ideas of what I want my marriage to be, and if I did not feel in my heart that you felt the same, I would not have said yes when you proposed, or would have refused you when I had time to think clearly.  This is our wedding night, and I hope that in . . . seven and twenty years we will look back at this night with memories of the beginning of a very happy union.”  Their eyes met and Darcy leaned down to kiss her lips in the slow, passionate way he had demonstrated to her that first day, only now she knew exactly how to respond.   She reached up to slide her fingers into his hair, and drew his head down just as he held her closer.

“Elizabeth . . . You must not kiss me like that.”  Darcy breathed before kissing her just as deeply again. 

“I will always respond to your lead, Fitzwilliam.”  Elizabeth whispered. 

“That is dangerous . . . I am relying on you to keep me at bay . . . help me.  You know what we must do, and I know that you do not want it.”  Darcy lifted her chin and stared into her eyes.  “I do not want it either.  I want the long happy union, the memories of this night, just as badly as you do.  I want to be your husband so very much.”

“Then kiss me again.”  Elizabeth whispered.  “Kiss me as a husband should.”

“In our bed?”  He asked huskily, and not waiting for an answer, stood and scooped her up and into his arms.  “I do not want to spend our wedding night alone, Elizabeth.  There is only so much I am willing to do for my sister.”

Laying her down on the bed, he kissed her, then removed his robe and without thought, snuffed the candle with his fingers.  The glow of the fire gently filled the room and he stood next to the bed, caressing her face.  “So beautiful.”

“Fitzwilliam . . .” Elizabeth sighed as his hand traced down her throat.  Darcy pulled the ribbon on her nightdress, and drew back the fabric to expose her breasts.

“Ohhh . . .” As his warm palm moved over them, he watched the softly blushing flesh mould into his hand.  “Do you know how I have imagined you?  How many times I wondered . . .” He rested one knee on the mattress and bent to hold her shoulders.  His lips brushed down one breast, and he took the nipple into his mouth.  “Sweet.”  He moaned and suckled on the impossibly hard bud as his other hand fondled and squeezed the other mound.  Elizabeth’s sighs at last gained his attention, and he kissed his way back up her throat to her mouth.  Her hands caressed over his back, and they became lost in the feeling of their growing passion.

“Come to bed.”

“I fear that if I do . . .” Darcy stopped and kissed her deeply while drawing his hand down her body to rest between her legs.  There he rubbed, feeling the warm wetness soaking through the sheer nightdress.  Elizabeth moaned into his mouth and her legs spread wider.  He lifted his head and looked down to his hand, watching it move.  Her hands turned his face, bringing his mouth back to hers.  As their tongues and lips slipped together, she embraced his shoulders, drawing his chest down onto hers.  “Ohhhhh . . .” He panted, feeling her breasts, so ripe and soft, flattening under his weight.  “I need to feel you.”  He moaned, lifting away and pulling the gown and robe down her shoulders to her waist, exposing her to his hungry eyes.  “Beautiful.”  He whispered, again stroking his palm over the warm flesh.  Their eyes met and Elizabeth tugged at his nightshirt, and Darcy swallowed, shaking his head.  She tugged again, this time raising the fabric and slipping her hand beneath to slide up his muscled thigh.  “You do not know what you are doing, dearest.  I only have so much control and it is waning alarmingly.”

“Come . . .” She whispered and saw his eyes widen when her hand found his arousal.  Without hesitation she stroked, as if she had always known exactly how to touch him.  Elizabeth was not afraid; somehow this seemed so natural, so right.  “Come to bed.” 

Darcy could not look away from her hand caressing over him.  He watched, and found his hips rocking into her strokes.  How he remained standing was a mystery, but stand he did.

“Dearest Elizabeth . . .” He tore his gaze from the fascinating sight and reached for her nightdress.  She lifted her hips and it was pulled and tossed away, leaving her completely nude before him, and his nightshirt soon joined hers somewhere in the room.  Again his hand moved between her legs, and he rubbed, feeling the wetness spread over his fingers, and looking to her eyes, he slowly slid one long finger inside.  Elizabeth’s eyes widened and he leaned down to kiss her.   “How does it feel?”  He whispered and kissed her again.

“Lovely.”    

“Yes . . . oh yes it does . . .” 

“Come to bed . . .” Elizabeth returned to her steady caress while he matched her strokes.    Her eyes closed and she pressed her hips up against his palm.  “Please . . .”

“There is nothing in the world I want more . . .
nothing
.”  Darcy licked his lips and groaning, scooped her up so that she kneeled on the bed before him, and held her against his chest.  “I want you . . . do not think for a second that I do not want you.”  He roughly brushed back the mass of curls that fell over her face.  “But if I give in now . . . I will have tasted heaven . . . and then . . . I will never be able to resist again.”  Burying his face against her throat, he held her fast.  Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, and she clung to him, rubbing her hands over his bottom as she felt his arousal press into her belly.  Darcy felt her tears on his cheek and held her tighter as her shoulders started to shake.  “I am so sorry.”

“I should not have tried.”

“No, no . . . shhhhhhhh.”  Darcy lifted his head.  “Never stop trying.”  His eyes were as bright as hers.  “We will find a way, we will.”  Kissing her, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.  “Maybe I should . . . go to the other room . . .”

“No.”  Elizabeth lifted her chin.  “My husband does not sleep alone.”

His little smile appeared.  “Most husbands do, Elizabeth.”

“None of mine do.”  Her eyes snapped.

Darcy kissed her and whispered, “None of yours?  How many have you?”

“One.  One Fitzwilliam George Darcy.  And he has always slept with me.  From the very . . .” She started to sob.  “. . . first night.” 

“Shhhhhhh.”  Darcy let go and quickly climbed into the bed, drawing her down and into his arms, and covering them with the comforter.  “There.”  He spooned his body to hers.  “How is this?”

“As it should be.” 

“Why are you not afraid?”  He rested his face on her shoulder.  “You are so amazingly comfortable.”

“You would never knowingly hurt me, Fitzwilliam.  I know that.  You promised me the day you proposed.  You ask me to trust you, and I do.”  Elizabeth took his hand in hers and placed it over her breast.  Darcy sighed and snuggled in, pressing the still-ready erection against her.  “Are there ways to express affection without . . .?”

“Yes.”  He kissed her throat. 

“Oh.”

Darcy rested his cheek against her shoulder and thought over the tone in her voice.  “You are disappointed that I know?”

“Why is that?” 

Smiling, he held her tighter.  “I know why.” 

“Will you tell me?”

“No, you will find out for yourself.”  Elizabeth turned over and stared at him, and Darcy gladly looked over the new view.  “Elizabeth, you have the most magnificent breasts.  I could stare at them forever . . .” He bent and suckled her nipple.  “I could savour them forever . . .” Elizabeth moaned and her back arched as his tongue swirled over her and his smiling lips nibbled.  He looked up.  “I think I have found a wonderful new occupation that we both will enjoy.” 

Her hand moved over his stomach and again touched his arousal.  He groaned, and she smiled, caressing, loving the feel of the silky, hard shaft in her hand.  But even more, loving how he seemed to be melting from her touch.

“You are burning . . .” She whispered and he nodded helplessly.  “This is good?”

“Yesssss.” 

“Shall I keep touching you like this?  Or would you rather I kiss you instead?”   Darcy’s eyes opened and by the expression on his face, she knew it did not matter. 

“Both are wonderful, dearest.”  He sighed and kissed her.  “I will not ask for anything you are not willing to give.”

“But do you not understand?  I am willing to give you all of me.”  Elizabeth let go and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him in the slow, open, passionate way he adored.  Without another thought, he rolled and lay over her.  They stopped kissing, and stared into each other’s eyes.  “I love you, Fitzwilliam.” 

His heart swelled, hearing the confession he thought he would never receive.  “Oh Elizabeth, I love you.” 

They remained in the embrace, reading the emotions that played within their eyes.  Darcy could feel the warmth and wetness of her body silently calling him to move forward.  Her breathing was as unsteady as his, her lips; lush and swollen from their kisses . . . And Elizabeth saw the same.  His eyes were dark; the desire that burned in them defied the gentle caress of his fingertips as they travelled over her hip in an endless circle.  They had reached the moment of decision.

“I want to make you mine.”  Darcy said huskily.  She said nothing, only caressing over his body, familiar already with the feel of his skin, his weight, his muscle.  It was in his hands.  Eventually Darcy’s eyes closed and he swallowed hard.  Her answer was given.  Blinking away the tears, she drew breath and gently nudged him.  He rolled off, putting his arm to his forehead and looking away at the fire.  “I am so sorry.  So sorry . . .  I never should have allowed the temptation to go further than the sofa.  I never should have touched you, or kissed you . . .  It is my foolish plan that has left us in this untenable position.  It is my fault we must suffer.  I have ruined what should be the happiest day of our lives.”

“Shhhh.”   Elizabeth curled against his chest and kissed his cheek.  He shook his head and would not look at her.  She felt the tension in his body, listened to his heartbeat, and traced her fingers over the path of soft hair that led from his chest to his erection.  Gently, she stroked down from the head to the base.  Darcy’s eyes closed and he sighed.  “Like this?”

“With your whole hand . . .” He whispered.

“Ohhhh.”  She smiled and encased the burning shaft with her palm and stroked up and down.

“Faster . . .” He moaned. 

Elizabeth’s smile grew and she kissed his nipples.  Darcy jumped and his eyes opened to find hers were sparkling.  The relief that brought him was overwhelming, and taking her face in his hands they kissed.  “You said there are other ways to find pleasure in each other?”

“Yes, my love.  As you seem to have . . . ohhhhhhhhh . . . discovered.”

“Handily, it seems.”  She giggled and he laughed softly.  Letting go for a moment she mirrored his embrace and held his face.  “Even if I am not to know exactly what it means to give myself to you completely yet, I do know that you want me.  If it is enough for you, I can bear it.” 

“It is
not
enough . . .” Darcy said miserably. 

“Well . . .” Elizabeth tiptoed her fingers playfully back down his belly and tapped on the head of his penis.  It bounced and she erupted into giggles.

“Lizzy . . .” He growled as she tapped it again. 

“It is like a spring!”  She laughed and smiled up at him. 

“One day, my love, it will be a piston.”  His brows rose and her eyes widened.  “Think of
that
, Mrs. Darcy.”

Her hand to her chest, she stared.  “Oh my.” 

“Indeed.” 

Elizabeth bit her lip and enclosing him once more in her hand, asked curiously as she started to caress him again, “Is that good, to be a piston?”