thrusting, he finally drove into her with such a mighty surge that his tip fitted itself against her very core. At that, she cried out in ecstasy and reached her third peak, trembling and convulsing on and on, until she squeezed him so hard with her inner muscles that he shouted out in bliss. He shivered, poured his essence into her and collapsed on top of her.
When they finally returned to earth, he rolled away from her, then pulled her to lie on top of him. He switched on the bedside lamp, wanting to devour her lovely body with his eyes.
Her eyelids felt heavy but her gaze suddenly snagged on the sight of her jeans on the floor…and the pink envelop spilling out of the pocket.
Bewildered, she raised her head, took a look at his relaxed body, and asked him in wonder, “William, why did Charles send you a Valentine’s card?”
He looked at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“He said you only had 3 inches! But you’re huge!” Then, embarrassed at discussing his size, she blushed and covered her cheeks with her hand.
“Oh. That,” Darcy said as understanding dawned on him.
“I felt sorry for your...” Words failed her, and she raised her little finger to show him what she meant.
“You asked me to make love to you because you felt sorry about my …?”
“No. I would have made love to you, no matter what. I love you.” She lowered her head and kissed away his concerns.
When they stopped for air, he said, “The card wasn’t from Bingley. It was Billy who wrote it.”
“My cousin Mr. Collins? Why would he send you such a strange card?”
“I knew him in my teens. One year, he came to the Hunsford camp with my aunt. It was around Valentine’s Day. He made out with a girl, one night. The next day, when we were both in the toilet, we overheard the girl outside, laughing about his size with some of her friends.”
“Oh dear.”
“Oh dear, indeed. He took a look at me and burst into tears, lamenting his small size. I comforted him, telling him that size didn’t truly matter. I assured him that he would find someone who loved him for what he was. Since then, he has counted me as his best friend. He sends me a Valentine’s card every year. He said we should encourage each other, in such a lonely time.”
Elizabeth frowned. “But he said ‘take your 3 inches out and shag some girls witless.’ He was joking?”
Darcy’s face turned bright red. “He said, back then, that I
“9 inches? That’s nearly 23 centimetres,” she murmured, and glanced at his lower body.
Their talk had clearly aroused him, for his manhood was standing tall and proud. Elizabeth stretched her small hand out, as if to measure it.
Darcy would have none of that and smacked her hand away. “If you want to measure it, I know a much better method.”
Rolled her onto her back, he thrust inside her again.
And that is how they came to spend the night and all of Valentine’s Day measuring and discussing the relative merits of the metric system.
Bedroom Ability
What if Mr. Darcy expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love might be supposed to do?
Elizabeth Bennet slowly awoke to the sound of a phone ringing, the caress of a man’s strong hands on her breasts, and his growing hardness pressing importunately against her bottom.
One of his hands left her momentarily.
“Yes…No…Yes…Hmm…Ok…Bye.” The sound of the man answering the call roused her from her lingering stupor, for it sounded like…Mr. Darcy!
She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead.
“Shit!” she swore under her breath, for what she saw was his office.
She lowered her glance as his tan, dark-haired arm settled back on her white breasts again.
From the waist up, she was without a stitch of clothing. And his big, hot hands were slowly rubbing and pinching her nipples.
She sucked in a deep breath and squirmed, then swore, “Shit,” again as she felt his firm arousal prod her butt cheeks. She was
The decorations in his office reminded her that it was Christmas. Events and images flashed through her mind: Caroline Bingley, the Human Resources dragon, laughing behind her back, the day before. The orange woman had snickered at her, saying that Elizabeth was a prim and proper tomboy who wore a buttoned-up shirt, trousers and short hair, a boring, fat lad who didn’t know how to have fun with men.
After that, Elizabeth had shopped for the most alluring and feminine frock she could find, to shock the acid- tongue woman at the office Christmas party. With a constant supply of wine and champagne to bolster her courage, she had flirted and laughed with nearly every man in the company.
She remembered that her big boss hadn’t seemed to like her new behaviour. When she saw Mr. Darcy withdraw from the festivities with a frown, she followed him into his office, determined to make her serious boss have some fun.
Actually, she had done a lot more than that. She remembered, after a bit of happy banter, how she had pushed him down to sit rigidly on the chesterfield couch, feeding him sips of bubbly from her own mouth until…
“Elizabeth, my love,” Mr. Darcy murmured, close to her ear. His deep, velvety voice made her shiver. Then his tongue stroked her earlobe, before nipping and sucking on it.
She trembled. Her mind couldn’t concentrate any more. As his hands squeezed and cupped her breasts to sensual heights, she panted and cried out in low moans.
Arching her body involuntarily, she felt one of his legs push hers at an angle. Granted access, his impressive shaft slid along her outer folds from behind, making her apex ablaze.
One of his hands left her twin peaks and travelled down to her pubic hair. His demanding fingers rubbed and tweaked her sensitized nub from the front. The dual attack rendered her instantly afire and soaking wet.
Elizabeth grabbed onto his arms, bracing herself as she felt him position himself at her entrance. When he pushed into her, stretched her tight and tender inner muscles insistently, she let out a loud moan.
This super-big boss of hers was jumbo-sized, invading her in a way she had never experienced before. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut as sensation of friction and scorching heat spread through her core.
He pushed in, inch after inch, slowly, steadily, relentlessly, until at last he reached her hilt. Suddenly, she remembered this ecstasy of his manhood inside her, recalling it from the last time. She had been in control then, straddling him, using gravity and determination as she lowered herself onto his impressive girth. Panting, she had confessed to him she had never before done the deed in any way but the missionary position, on a proper bed. After she took control and fucked him wildly while he continued to sit stiffly on the sofa, she told him it had been the best sex she had ever had.
Now he was invading her from behind, filling her in places she didn’t know could be filled, creating another unforgettable dream. But when he started to pull out and push into her rhythmically, building to a neck-breaking speed, she knew it was a wonderful reality instead.
His sizzling mouth was biting her neck. His burning hands had returned to pluck at her throbbing nipples while his blazing shaft pounded into her with maddening urgency. After endless minutes of amazing sensory assault, her body couldn’t take it any more. She screamed out his name and dug her fingers deeply into his forearms
