crevice between her legs. It felt good and terrible at the same time.
“What’s the hurry?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“Look,” Jane said irritably, “I have an important meeting that I-“
“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “But in the mean time, check out the view. Relax.”
“Relax? Relax?” Jane threw the phone in her bag and sat back impatiently against the seat. “I am surrounded by idiots,” she mumbled to herself.
The car screeched to a halt. Jane sat up straight. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you stopping?”
Mr. Darcy spoke without turning around. “What did you say?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you just call me an idiot?” he said quietly.
Jane looked at her watch, exasperated. “I’m going to be late!”
Mr. Darcy cut the engine. He opened the door and stepped out of the car. Jane’s mouth dropped open. She watched as he walked around the front of the sedan and leaned against the hood, his arms folded and back to her. Now that he was out of the car, Jane noticed how tall he was, and the way the sleeves of his blue shirt strained over his muscular biceps.
She began pushing buttons on the inside car door to roll down the window and give him a piece of her mind, forgetting that with the engine off, the electronic windows would not work. “Oh!” she huffed in frustration, pulling on the door handle which held fast, causing her to break two fingernails. She pulled her hand back in pain and looked at the ragged nails. She was locked in!
“Hey!” she hollered, as loudly as she could. “Let me out of here this instant!”
Outside, Mr. Darcy leaned against the bumper of the sedan without a care, observing the trees and flowers beside the roadway, his tapered, well-muscled back turned to Jane, seemingly oblivious to her anger.
“I said, let me out of here, you son of a bitch!” Jane yelled. “Do you know who I am? You wait until we get to Merton! You are so fired!”
Jane threw herself back against the seat of the car. What did this jerk-off think he was doing? She picked up her cell phone again and pushed buttons to no avail. What was she going to do? She had meetings! Work!
Outside, Darcy had turned around and was studying her through the window. Jane looked at him and scowled. He walked slowly to the front door and unlocked it with his set of keys. He reached in and popped the locks, and Jane slid quickly across the seat, her skirt riding up to her buttocks, and grasped the door handle, but she was far too slow. Darcy opened the door and slid into the back seat with her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said.
He nodded at her hand. “You’ve hurt yourself,” he said, and put his hand out.
Jane slapped it away. “Leave me alone!” she said, but Darcy just smiled at her.
“Please,”he said, looking into her eyes. Jane felt her anger melting away, even though she fought against it. He was impertinent and disrespectful of her position, after all. But looking up at his handsome face, so interesting with full lips, high cheekbones and the tiniest of scars by his right eye — she found herself extending her hand.
He held her injured hand in both of his — his tanned skin was so warm and smooth, and in the closeness of the back seat, the woody scent of him bathed her. She breathed it in, and it was as if she was all of a sudden transported to an exotic country. His head was bent and he ran an index finger lightly over her wounded finger tips, causing a shiver to run up her wrist. He looked up then, and his face was very close to hers.
“I’m sorry you were hurt,” he said, his brown eyes liquid and showing remorse. Jane looked deeply into them and could barely speak.
She’d been alone for so long, caring only about her work, the business, getting ahead, making money — at night she was exhausted, falling into fitful sleep. It had been so long since she’d even looked at an interesting man, so long since-
Darcy’s lips parted. He ran his thumb up her wrist, then lightly traced his fingers back into her palm, working little circular motions, massaging her hand, ever so gently, the scent of him filling her nose, the heat of his thigh against hers. She saw him glancing down and followed his eyes to see her where her skirt had ridden up, exposing her creamy, smooth thighs. Under her skirt, her silk panties were wet with her moisture and sliding up between the lips of her vulva. His fingers worked between hers, and she imagined them, in that slit where her moist panties rubbed against her little button and she gasped.
She leaned back against the seat, and gently placed his hand on the soft, white skin of her leg. She reached out and touched his face and he looked in her eyes. She gently tipped his chin so he was looking down into her lap, and then slowly parted her thighs.
Darcy shook his head and pressed her legs together. Jane gasped, all of a sudden her cheeks burning with shame. She felt her anger mounting again, and he read it in her eyes. “No,” he said, “You misunderstand. Come.” He reached over and worked the door, stepping out onto the abandoned road. He held a hand out to her. “Come,” he said again. Jane didn’t know what was happening to her — she was always the one in charge, and now here she was passively doing as she was told. She put out her hand and when Darcy touched her fingertips, it was like an electric current was racing up her arm. She shivered and slid across the seat, her skirt riding even further up her thigh, exposing the cheek of her buttock, but she didn’t care.
She put her long legs out and stepped on to the uneven roadway, wobbling a little as she stood up. Darcy caught her in his strong arms, holding her against him, his thigh sliding between her legs. She could feel the heat of him, her wetness making a damp mark on his slacks. She looked up into his face, and Darcy slid his hand up under her blouse, his palm brushing over her breast, her hard nipple poking her bra. The friction of his palm and the cloth on the tender button made her quiver. She looked up and down the roadway. “Someone will see us,” she said, her voice raspy.
“Not on this road,” Darcy said. “Only the cottage owners use this road, and since it’s off season-“ he stopped in mid sentence, his mouth crushing hers. His hot tongue slid between her lips, moving slowly in and out and making her imagine his cock, sliding in and out of her mouth just like his tongue. She moaned, wanting that, wanting to taste him, to have his earthy, woody-smelling skin next to hers, she wanted to breathe him in, devour him. She slid her hands down his hard body to the buckle of his belt, her mouth still on his, kissing, kissing.
Suddenly, his hands were on hers, removing them. Her mouth came away from his in protest. “Why are you stopping me!” she cried, and attempted to undo his slacks again, but he was strong, his hands clamped around her wrists. He pinned her to the car, his mouth going to her neck, causing her another shiver that shot through her body and straight to the core of her, lighting her pussy on fire. “No,” he said, “I have other plans for you. “
“But I want-“ she started.
“Please,” he said in a tender way that stopped her. “Let someone else be in charge for once.”
“What do you mean?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Darcy looked in her eyes. “I saw you there, in the back seat,” he said. “Making and taking calls, making deals, arguing with your staff.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder, his thumb caressing the skin just above her breast. She wanted that thumb on her breast, stroking, stroking her nipple, but he didn’t move from that spot. She bit her bottom lip. He looked up then, around him. The warm breeze stirred the trees, making them sigh. “You didn’t even take one moment to enjoy the beautiful scenery around you.”
“I have a very important position,” she said defensively. “I don’t have time for-“
“This-“ he said, interrupting her, sliding his hand up under her skirt. His fingers snaked into her wet panties, brushing through the tangled mass of springy hair, soft like the moss at the base of the trees here, in the woods that lined the road. Jane’s knees felt weak with his touch, but he wrapped one strong arm behind her and while the length of his index finger worked between the slit of her hot, wanting lips, opening beneath his fingers like the petals of a flower.
There was a thin silver ring on his index finger, old and smoothly worn, but the ridge of that ring caused a pleasing sensation as it glided over her clitoris, which had raised its head up like the head of a tiny mushroom and strained toward his finger. Every time the ring bumped over the silky, little head, a wave of heat washed through Jane, and her honey began to run out onto Darcy’s fingers as they slid with an aching slowness up and down between those hot, wet vulva lips.
The tip of his finger teased in slow circles at the opening of her vagina, which contracted and contracted as if wanting to suck him in, and she moaned and begged him, “Please, inside me, please!” her breath coming hot
