Half an hour later, Mr. Darcy received a note from his father, stating that the carriage had suffered a minor accident a little distance from Meryton. His father would stretch his legs in the small town for the time being, until the carriage was sorted out. He would arrive at Netherfield in another hour.
Soon, Wickham had Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley drunk. He left Hurst and Bingley in the study and helped the tipsy Mr. Darcy up the stairs in person, not wanting Darcy’s valet to intercept him.
When Wickham arrived at the room he had shared with his lady love, it was almost pitch dark because the curtains were drawn close. A dim light that entered through a gap between the curtains was just enough for him to make out the shape of a woman under the bed sheet. She was lying on her stomach, and her hair was loosened.
Wickham started stripping Fitzwilliam of his clothes. “I have a surprise for you,” he said to the inebriated gentleman.
“What’s…it?” Darcy hiccupped.
“A sensual woman.” Turning Darcy, he pointed to the bed.
“With gorgeous… bosom?” The dazed man chuckled.
“Possibly,” Wickham said, wondering why Darcy’s cravat had to be so complicated. “You’ll have to discover that for yourself.”
“I have not gotten…laid for some years now,” Darcy lamented. “Father keeps…me close and works me hard…ever since you last…got me into mischief…”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Wickham demanded, finally getting the shirt off the half-drunk man.
“She is …willing?” Darcy staggered forward a step.
“Very.” Wickham unbuttoned Darcy’s breeches.
Darcy hesitated, swaying. “I do not sleep with… whores.”
“Her husband is dead,” Wickham lied as he stripped the drunken man naked.
“A lonely widow?”
“A most easily aroused one.”
“She wants…money from me?” Darcy asked stubbornly, not moving.
“Not at all. She only wants affection and warmth.”
“But…I do not…trust you.” Darcy argued. “Are you trying to…trick me? You are always up to…no good.”
Wickham swore under his breath. He had no time for Darcy’s censure. He shoved the drunkard onto the bed, walked out the door and closed it.
“Ouch!”
“Ah!”
Mr. Darcy and the woman both exclaimed as their bodies crashed onto each other.
“I beg your pardon, Madam.” He stood up and bowed awkwardly.
The woman turned over on the bed, had a look at him, laughed and asked cheerily, “Is your apology for … bumping into me or appearing without a… stitch of clothing, in my bed chamber?”
Darcy liked her sound, musical and pleasant. He smiled and looked down at himself in the muted light. “Indeed, I am in all my glory. I do not…know why.”
She sat up, brushed the wayward curls away from her eyes, and took in the sight of his strong frame with apparent curiosity. “You look like a … statue of the Greek god, Apollo,” she said, and hiccupped.
“Your bosom…rivals that of Venus.” He licked his lips and felt a sudden surge of heat rise in his body. Intending to let in some air, he walked to pull the curtains wider apart.
She cast a look at herself. Lit by the bright afternoon sun from outside, she saw that she wore no clothes, either. She remembered feeling oppressively hot, shortly after she went to the bed, scarcely able to breathe. Stifling, she had taken her dress off and then, finding little relief, had shed the rest of her garments before surrendering again to sleep. Now, abruptly awakened, she was covered by nothing but the bed sheet which was now pooled at her waist.
“Thank you, Sir, for the compliment.” She smiled, feeling giddily light-headed beneath the gaze of this handsome young man. She reclined down on the bed again and raised both hands to rub her temples. “But I am not the goddess of love, but simple Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.”
Mr. Darcy felt the room grow hotter yet. The lovely Elizabeth was lying on the bed, with both hands on her forehead, a gesture which pushed her gorgeous breasts higher still. She had the most vivid green eyes, a very fine pair. He wanted to worship her but was not sure whether she would welcome it. He was a gentleman and would never force himself on a woman. The temptation was so great that he felt as if his head might burst at any moment.
He raised his hand to rub his own temple.
“Are you…not feeling well, Apollo?” she asked with concern.
“I am no Apollo, just Fitzwilliam Darcy…of Pemberley.”
“Perhaps you will feel better if you lie down,” she suggested, and patted the space beside her.
It was an invitation he could not refuse. He slipped in besides her, under the bed sheet.
They stared at each other silently for a minute. Then she smiled at him and raised her eyebrows. Encouraged, he stretched out his hand and touched her, drawing delicate circles around one of her nipples.
The cherry tip peaked and she gasped for air.
“You have the most … magic touch,” she murmured.
“And you are very… responsive.”
She smiled widely at his compliment. The whole-hearted grin made her look fresh and carefree, like his sister Georgiana,
Mr. Darcy thought. Elizabeth seemed too young to have been married and then widowed. But what did he really know about such things? Had his own mother not died very young, too, soon after Georgiana was born?
“How old are you?” he asked. His finger continued the exploration of her twin peaks. He loved the texture of her skin.
“Not yet one-and-twenty,” she whispered. “And you?”
“Not yet eight-and-twenty.”
“In the prime of life.” She gazed at his eyes, which were the deepest blue, like the summer sky. He seemed indeed to be a Greek god, calling out for her to touch him. Emboldened, she traced her fingers from his throat down his chest to his navel. His body was virile and perfect.
His mouth gaped open as he felt his skin burn beneath her touch. His arousal sprang up, proud and tall, making a tent of the bed sheet.
Her eyes widened at the unexpected movement. She lifted the edge of the bed sheet, took one quick glance at his magnificent manhood, and dropped the sheet immediately.
“I did not know that Apollo’s…stone could grow,” she remarked innocently.
He chuckled. “Would you like to feel the stone…expand?” He took her tiny hand, which was soft but surprisingly strong, and placed her fingers around his shaft.
“It is…” She swallowed and bit her lower lip. “It is so hot…and so smooth.”
He slid his other hand down to her apex, where he rubbed the soft bush and slid along her folds. “And you are wet and…blazing.”
She could feel the blood draining from her head, seeming to pool and pulse at her sex. The sensations at the juncture of her thighs were raging, causing her to flex her hand instinctively, squeezing his shaft hard.
He let out a cry of pure ecstasy. He knew that he would explode if he did not join with this lovely Venus.
Carefully, he removed her hand from his straining member, then turned to press his body against her. The moment their naked forms touched, they both shivered. Using his elbows to carry his weight, he positioned himself over her and lowered his head to kiss her sultry lips with passion.
When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she sucked at it tentatively, and her sweet response nearly made him come. He pulled back immediately and lowered his lips to worship her creamy mounds instead.
They were alabaster white, soft and bouncy. He licked the skin around the nipples, then moved to the side
