Her eyes were closed in delight, hands clutching the edge of his jacket, and mouth parted. Mesmerized, he played lovingly with her chestnut mane as he scrutinized her expressions, groaning and briefly losing all control when the tiny tip of her moist tongue appeared to lick dry lips. He bent and kissed her unrestrained, tongue thrusting deeply, and hoarse moans caught in his throat. Blissful minutes passed, both succumbed to raging sensations. It was a singularly sharp squeeze to his derriere that jerked him to reality.
“Elizabeth!” He gasped. “Wait, please. It is my reward owed, you recall? I have a plan.” He kissed to her ear, taking the lobe into his mouth for gently suckles. “We have hours and hours, best beloved. Trust me, we shall be satisfied.” He pulled away to meet her glazed eyes.
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “I want you…”
“You shall have me, lover,” he interrupted. “I can promise you that. All night, languidly and wholly I shall love you. This is my wish. Wait here.” He pecked her nose, smiled, and left for his dressing room.
He returned quickly with a bundle in his hands, blushing faintly. “I brought this. It is my favorite. Will you wear it for me?”
Lizzy laughed, recognizing what he held. “William, you truly are too cute. Of course I shall wear it.”
When she later returned from her dressing room, her husband was garbed in a figure-hugging black chambray banyan with borders of sage green satin. He was bent over the cozy table in the corner, now laden with several covered trays, lit candles, two place settings, and a vase of roses. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a bucket nearby.
“What is for dinner?” Darcy pivoted, eyes grazing his wife head to toe as a grin of purest lust gradually spread over his face.
Approximately a month earlier Lizzy had woken with a pressing need to visit the water closet. It was nearly dawn, the faintest traces of light filtering through the curtains of their bedchamber. The room, however, was yet very dim and there was a slight chill to the air at odds with a Derbyshire morn in mid-August. Lizzy, naked as always and blessedly warm snuggled next to the inferno that was her spouse, had been struck by the cool room and blindly groped for the first garment she could find in the scattered piles of discarded clothing hastily tossed the previous evening. It was Darcy's shirt of finest spun silk with pearl buttons down the front. She drew it on, fastening the middle three buttons absently as she rushed from the room. Minutes later she returned, sleepily rubbing her face, and was brought up short by an audible gasp from the bed. Darcy lay propped on an elbow, eyes wide as he stared at her, an expression intimately familiar to her growing as was the evidence of his desire.
“You are wearing my shirt,” he said unnecessarily, voice huskier than she had ever heard it and eyes aflame. “Come here.” It was a curt command uttered in a tone that brooked no argument, not that it occurred to Lizzy to do so. What followed was a session of lovemaking closely rivaling, if not transcending, anything prior. The shirt stayed on throughout. Since then he had politely requested of her to wear it twice, amusing Lizzy as she would happily grant him anything especially as they were mindlessly aroused each time for reasons that neither could articulate.
The effect had not waned, Darcy now ogling with fists clenched at his sides. “Elizabeth Darcy, you are surpassingly sensual. Suddenly I am not certain how wise my request as I honestly do wish to proceed leisurely. God, how you tempt me!”
She approached, running one hand over the satin border draping his muscular chest. “As you declared, William, we have all night. Much can transpire in that amount of time. Of course, you are the master of the evening as the winner of our wager. I am at your disposal.” The last muttered faintly against his lips while her hands moved freely over the quivering flesh of his torso.
Forgotten was dinner and champagne. Forgotten were preconceived notions of lazy loving. In a burst of energy he clasped her bottom with both large hands, lifting bodily, and aided by her wrapping arms and legs about him. Swiftly they were at the bed where Darcy knelt with Lizzy yet entwined. He ran seeking hands roughly over the voluminous silk swathing her lithe frame, even the swell of their child not filling the space. Why seeing her encased in his shirt thrilled him so he could not say precisely. Partially it was the way it fell to the middle of her rounded thighs leaving her long shapely legs completely bared. Additionally the shoulder width was nearly twice hers so the gaping fabric displayed tantalizing glimpses of her collar and breasts. But primarily the reason was indefinable, Darcy only aware of a visceral surge of primal eroticism in the vision before his rapacious eyes.
It was fortunate that Lizzy unerringly responded to her husband's miraculous touch with alacrity as Darcy was frenzied in his thirst for her, extended foreplay no longer an option. He captured her breasts through the fabric, suckling and squeezing while gently lowering her to the bed, pelvis pressing harshly against her. Practically ripping the robe off his body, Lizzy's hands instantly roving and trailing fire, he joined with her in a heated rush. They loved furiously, gazes acute and ensnared. Another protracted, consuming kiss ensued, ending when a harsh growl erupted from Darcy's chest.
“Lizzy! I need to feel all of you! Oh Lord, I love you so!” His voice faded into unintelligible articulations of glory as they plunged over the edge, blissfully united in their pleasure.
He collapsed into a slump, instinctively avoiding crushing her belly as his upper body fell to the side over her thigh. Gradually he peered up at her shining face, brown eyes slitted as she watched him and lazily played with his hair. “I love how you call me 'Lizzy' in your rapture.”
“Would you rather I call you 'Lizzy' all the time?” His voice was yet harsh, naturally resonant tones always deeper in passion. Their son was rolling and kicking as he often did after they made love, Darcy absently chasing the movements with a hand.
“No. 'Elizabeth' is somehow proper coming from you, and I adore how your voice caresses my name every time. You never address me that it is not bathed with adoration and sensuality. You always have, if only I had had the ears to hear it. 'Lizzy' is uttered when you are completely undone, hence why I love it.” She stroked over his perfect nose, resting on the dimple in his chin. “I love you, William.”
He rolled, lying next to her and encasing her in strong arms. He did not speak for a bit, caressing tenderly and kissing through her hair. Finally, “I love you, Elizabeth. My Elizabeth, my wife.”
After a time of cuddling and brushing kisses, she unexpectedly giggled, looking up into his eyes. “Well, now that we have that out of the way, perhaps we can proceed with the leisurely unfolding of the evening as you requested for your victory over me. Starting with dinner, as I now have heightened my appetite.”
“I shall never consider making love with you as something to get 'out of the way'; however, food does sound appealing.” He fingered the edge of his shirt where it lay over her thigh. “You will keep this on for me, dearest?”
“What if I become cold?”
“I shall start a fire.”
“If I spill on it?”
“It can be cleaned.”
“It is rather large, William. It may fall right off my shoulder into the plate!”
“You are filling it out better, Elizabeth, so I daresay that will not happen.”
“It has a strange effect on your senses, love. Can you control yourself throughout the meal?”