Elizabeth was utterly lost to everything around her save for the man before her, and seemingly without warning, the thin fabric of her shift slid from her shoulders and down to the floor in a cascade of creamy silk, exposing her breasts and hips to his adept touch. It left her gasping as the chill of the room and Darcy’s skilled hands assaulted her bare flesh.
He withdrew just far enough to allow his gaze to devour the vision before him. Elizabeth’s mouth was parted in anticipation of his kisses, her full breasts with their pert nipples heaving, her hips—he dared not think of her hips—so smooth and inviting, waiting for him to draw forth all the undeniable passion burning within her. In the wake of his increasing ardor, Darcy struggled to regain his senses and, so softly he could barely hear his own words, murmured, “My dearest love, you are exquisite beyond my wildest dreams.”
Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes. She had always imagined being completely unclothed before a man would have been, at the very least, disconcerting, to say nothing of embarrassing, but on this night with Darcy, she found it surprisingly natural, utterly pleasurable. His ragged breathing felt hot against the side of her face as he stared at her with a smoldering look in his eyes that she returned with equal emotion. Elizabeth encircled his neck with her arms, burying her fingers in his tousled hair and, standing on the tips of her toes, teased the exposed skin of his neck with her lips and the velvet of her tongue.
A groan rose from the back of his throat, and she felt him shiver as she pressed her naked body against his solid, clothed form. He recaptured her mouth in an urgent kiss, holding her against him with one hand as the other slid along the curve of her spine and around the swell of her hip to insinuate itself between her thighs in the most intimate of caresses. It took her by surprise, and Elizabeth found her senses overwrought by an entirely new sensation. As the tension within her continued to build, her knees weakened, and she found herself moaning her pleasure against his lips.
Darcy could hardly contain his desire as he held her. She was beyond magnificent, a woman surrendering herself completely to her desires, a willing, active participant in his lovemaking. His own arousal was fierce, and he longed to possess her, to bring her to the pinnacle of satisfaction, to make all his dreams a reality. Her breath was coming in fast, shallow pants, and when Elizabeth uttered his name with longing, he begged her for the honor of making her his at last.
She answered him with a smoldering kiss and a breathy “Yes,” and with an inarticulate sound, Darcy lifted the woman he loved in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he made quick work of removing his shirt and breeches before taking his rightful place beside her. Instantly, his lips resumed their ministrations, burning a trail of kisses across her shoulders and neck and the small, sensitive spot behind her ear. All the while, his hands explored her curves in the most insistent manner.
He moved lower, running his wet tongue over her breasts until she could stand it no longer and, with the gentlest touch, barely grazed her nipple with his teeth. Elizabeth cried out as delicious sensations traveled throughout her body.
In an effort to silence her, Darcy returned his mouth to hers while his hands continued to pleasure her body. He ran his fingers lightly along her breasts, over her ribs, her waist, her hips, her thighs, and when her legs parted to allow him entrance to her most private place, he felt a new surge of desire for her and heard her gasp with pleasure as his fingers slid into her moist folds.
As Darcy began to stroke her most sensitive flesh in small, slow circles, Elizabeth lost all sense of everything else, surrendered herself to his fiery touch, and approached the height of her passion.
Darcy lifted his head to look at her. She was beyond exquisite with her hair strewn across the pillows, her eyes closed, her breathing labored, her back arching as he teased her with his finger. When she began to writhe from the ecstasy of his touch, he took her breast in his mouth and suckled her until she cried out for him, as though she were delirious with desire. At last he felt her release. Her body convulsed as wave upon wave of spasms washed over her.
Darcy’s eyes searched hers. In their liquid depths he saw no fear of what was yet to come—only love, fulfillment, and trust. “My dearest, are you quite certain this is truly what you want?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse, all the while praying her answer would be in the affirmative.
Elizabeth reached out to him. Her voice caught in her throat, and she whispered, “Fitzwilliam, make me yours.”
He placed a lingering kiss on her swollen lips, and as he parted her legs with his own, he was very nearly overcome by his desire for her, his arousal hard and insistent as it strained against her warmth. Darcy entered her with care, his eyes never leaving hers, desperately wishing he could gauge her thoughts and emotions. Elizabeth was gloriously tight, lush, and welcoming, and it took every ounce of inner strength he possessed to remind himself to go slowly, so as not to cause her any undue distress. When he met her resistance, he whispered in a strained voice, “My love, this may be painful, but only for a minute,” and in the next moment he thrust deeply, penetrating her last barrier. A small cry of pain escaped her; it could not be helped. He took a great deal of time to kiss her until he felt her body begin to relax around his.
Darcy wrapped her legs around his hips and began moving with slow, deliberate strokes, feeling the delicious heat quickly building to an almost intolerable pitch. He was overwhelmed with the feelings she inspired in him and could not help but marvel at the wonder of her and the tremendous intensity of their love. His need for her increased almost violently, and his motions accelerated to match his insatiable desire.
Elizabeth soon found her initial discomfort replaced by a hot, tingling sensation at her innermost core, and she began to move her body in time to Darcy’s rhythm until, with one final, deep thrust, he sent them both cresting over the edge of their passion, shuddering in a dizzying crescendo of ultimate pleasure.
They lay spent, their breathing erratic, their bodies glistening with perspiration in the waning light of the fire. At length, fearing his weight had become too much, Darcy withdrew to lie beside Elizabeth, pulling the counterpane around them. It was with great tenderness that his lips lingered over hers as his hand played with her curls. “Are you well, Elizabeth?” His voice was filled with love.
She snuggled against him, relishing the communion they had just shared. “Mmm… very well, Fitzwilliam.”
“I am relieved to hear it.” He kissed her again with feeling and whispered, “I adore you.”
Elizabeth smiled contentedly against his shoulder. “I would hope so, after sharing such a profound intimacy.”
Darcy’s voice filled with emotion. “You know not how long I have dreamt of making you mine. Visions of your beauty have haunted my thoughts for months, but none so breathtaking as the vision now before me. Truly, tonight was a gift beyond any I ever imagined.”
Elizabeth allowed her fingers to caress his chest. “Yes. It was very beautiful. I feel as though I am bound to you for all eternity.”
“And I to you, though you must realize my love for you already bound me to you months ago. But I agree. We have become even more, so much more. Nothing can ever tear you from me now, my sweetest Elizabeth.” Their lips met again as they held each other close, their bodies eager to repeat the intricate motions of a dance as old as time.