Elizabeth dearly enjoyed surprising her husband. Of course explicit visual or tactile inducements were unnecessary, but he knew she would not see it that way. Therefore, his mind was pleasantly wandering. Would she wear the over-sized shirt of his that still drove him insane? Would she appear deliciously naked? Perhaps wearing one of the devilish costumes that her modiste designed? Would her hair be yet pinned up so he could thrill in releasing each lustrous tress? Or down in a cloud of fluid waves shrouding her elfin face and delicate shoulders? Would she splash her alabaster skin with her signature essence of lavender or the special musky jasmine that she wore as a treat just for him?
The musings meandered as he removed his shoes and jacket. Again, it truly did not matter; anything she chose was guaranteed to provoke him into a raging inferno of wanton desire. Merely the thought of her was affecting him and his next sigh was more of a moan as blood rushed in a hot surge through his vessels.
He reached a hand to loosen the suddenly constricting cravat just as the door opened. His breathing hitched and hand halted halfway toward his throat, the brief paralysis broken with a cleansing release of air as his eyes swept over the woman who utterly owned his soul. A brilliant smile illuminated his face as he drank in the vision of Lizzy gliding across the short distance.
Her hair was down, tumbling chocolate curls framing her cheeks and falling to her waist in a lush veil. She had chosen to remain in the creamy tan gown with copper trim that she had worn that day, only without any undergarments thus allowing the sheer muslin to cling to her flesh and offer tantalizing hints of the perfection underneath. The fact that a portion of his brain had been disrobing her from this particular dress all day made her choice to keep it on all the more stimulating.
He extended one arm, palm upward, murmuring gutturally, “Ah, Lizzy. What are you trying to do to me?”
She smiled in return, taking the offered hand and lacing her fingers between his, but moved around the narrow settee until behind him. She leaned down, kissing each fingertip ensnared amid her fingers, only then answering his question with a hot whisper against his right ear. “I think you know precisely what I am trying to do. And that I am succeeding admirably.”
He moaned, dropping his head onto the back of the sofa and gazing into her eyes. “You were succeeding before you entered the room, my lover. Now you are killing me!”
“You can handle the stress, my virile husband.” She moved her hands to his shoulders, kneading through the fabric of his waistcoat.
“That does feel wonderful, but I have to say that my shoulders are not the prime area of my body screaming for your touch.”
Smiling as she lowered her mouth to his, her kiss was every bit as penetrating upside down as it was straight on. Darcy cupped her face in his large, warm palms, preventing her straying away from his lips. Nimbly she unbuttoned the waistcoat and top part of his shirt, fingertips grazing over the hairs and skin revealed in the gap before attending to the knots of his neckcloth.
Lizzy had no proof, and could certainly never ask, but she had come to believe that Darcy’s valet drew some sort of mischievous enjoyment in fabricating new, intricate knots for his master’s cravat. Samuel was just as stoic and professional as on the day Lizzy met him as a new bride, marriage to Marguerite not visibly loosening the strict propriety that encased him, but upon occasion she had seen an odd gleam in his eye when Darcy exited his dressing room. He knew that Lizzy was as apt to undress her husband as he was. Darcy, of course, despite his adherence to proper fashion, was not a dandy and therefore paid scant attention to how his neckcloth was tied. But Lizzy saw the humor in it, delighting in the challenge and added thrill as she deciphered the puzzle, unveiling her spouse’s manly neck to her seeking caress.
Today she only loosened the wrapped silk, leaving the looped fabric around his neck and pulling the shirt collar free. Only then, after sliding her palms down his chest to the edge of his breeches waistband and stroking back up to his flexing shoulders, did she withdraw from the delights of his mouth to pepper soft kisses over his face. Straightening, she looked into his half-lidded eyes and clasped the hands that cradled her face. She kissed each palm before releasing them and moving to stand in front of him at his bent knees. There she paused to run her gaze over every masculine inch of his figure, noting the indications of his fervid desire with rising zeal.
Darcy was breathing heavily, lips plump and ruddy from the pressure of her mouth. His skin was alive and tingling from her caress, his heart harshly pounding and arousal aching. He groaned, shifting restlessly on the couch and pressing anxious palm into his thighs as the need to touch her overwhelmed. His frayed restraint faltered dangerously when she unclasped the two buttons between her breasts and proceeded to inch the gown’s sleeves off her shoulders until the décolletage slipped lower. When she then delivered her special seductive smile and bent nearer, offering an abundant display of her bosom in the process, he knew his control was a breath away from being lost. Fortunately, she grasped the dangling strands of his cravat and tugged upward before he literally took matters into his own hands!
Requiring no further inducement he leapt to his feet, broad hands instantly spanning her slim waist and drawing her tight against his body. “Elizabeth,” he moaned, lips traveling hungrily over her neck. “You do delight in tormenting me.”
A rapid undressing commenced while edging toward the bed. Darcy murmured endearments and erotic phrases as typical while grazing over her bared skin. Lizzy silently absorbed the spiraling sensations, allowing her hands and mouth to express her desire. Until, that is, Darcy reached to unwind the cravat from around his neck.
“No,” she gasped, staying his hand. “Leave it on. I find it alluring.”
He laughed softly. “As you wish, my love. Let me take you to our bed.”
They stretched onto the down coverlet, bodies sinking into the fluffed surface as they eagerly reached for each other. Instantly their limbs entwined, hands stroking and fondling, and kisses vehement. Lizzy twisted one long end of the hanging neckcloth around her forearm, grasped the ruffled knots still intact at his throat, and pulled his body onto hers, welcoming his weight with a satisfied sigh as the established rhythm of loving was initiated.
She kept one hand entwined with the white silk, kissing and licking the exposed skin of his neck as they swayed together. Darcy growled, voice rough against her ear, “Is the effect of my cravat as you anticipated, love?”
“You tell me.”
“Indeed I would answer affirmative. And here I thought it was the removal of my neckcloth that aroused you. How inventive of you to leave it on.”
“I would never wish to be boring.”
“That is absolutely impossible.” He shifted to bestow a scorching kiss, accelerating the undulating pace. “Making love with you shall never be boring. That I can promise.”
“No, I do not believe it shall,” she agreed with a promising lilt and lifted brow. Then without any warning she forcefully pushed against his body, Darcy understanding the purpose and rolling smoothly onto his back with his lover in tow and crushed against his torso. Their steady rhythm recommenced after a brief hiccup, and Lizzy resumed her oral play at his neck.
Darcy closed his eyes and arched his neck, a sonant hum expressing his satisfaction at her antics. He caressed lazily over her silky skin, happy to relax and drift with the pleasurable sensations as she unhurriedly trailed kisses and unraveled the complex ties.
Finally she released the last binding and lifted onto her elbows to begin slowly unwinding the damp material from around his neck. Darcy watched her with interest, noting the arch expression in her feverish eyes that meant she had something else planned.