Continuing with his experiment, he pushed the skirt of her dress up to her waist and hastily pulled off her G- string. He devoted one hand to the continued worship of her breasts while he moved down to enable his lips to settle on the curls at the apex of her thighs. He breathed in her scent, and found that it was heavenly and utterly unique.
When he parted her thighs more widely and lowered his head to trace his tongue along her entrance, Elizabeth felt torched by fire. She arched her back, offering herself.
His hand left her breasts and moved down to part her secret lips. He thrust his tongue in and out, tasting her.
It was too much for her. Within a few scant minutes, she screamed in ecstasy and came.
He raised his head from her womanhood and stripped out of his underwear, then lowered his body onto hers, chest to chest, hips to hips. “Look at me, Elizabeth. I want to be inside you now. I have been thinking of this moment for weeks.”
She tried to fix her gaze on him but she was still on her high and couldn’t concentrate.
He kissed her mouth and stroked her breasts while he slowly pushed the tip of his erection against her wet entrance and then rocked his hips, entering her. That brought Elizabeth back from the other world. His manhood was so much thicker than his finger or tongue! She felt as if her insides were fully stretched, and the feeling was unbelievable. He was very hard and yet irresistibly smooth, creating a strong, silky friction deep inside her body.
He reached down to raise her feet to wrap around his waist. Then he pushed hard into Elizabeth, all the way to her womb. He closed his eyes and let his body savor the sensation. He was tightly enwrapped, intimately squeezed. Blood seemed to have stopped flowing to his brain, intent instead on shoot through other regions of his body like heated missiles.
His body was on automatic pilot. He thrust in and out of her, again and again. His hands pleasured her breasts. His mouth danced a tango with hers. He lost track of time until the missiles burst from his body, flooding her with his seed. Then he collapsed on top of her.
When he finally returned from heaven, he clasped her tightly, then rolled onto his back, moving Elizabeth on top of him. Only then did he notice that she had tears on her face.
“Oh my god, did I hurt?”
“It hurt at first. You’re a big man.”
“And then?”
“And then what?”
“Did it still hurt after the ‘at first’? I’m so sorry – I was concentrating on getting to the heaven myself and I don’t even know whether you came or not.” He was embarrassed. His research had warned that men should give pleasure to their women first.
“You have a one-track mind!”
“Sorry. Researchers are like this. So?” He urged.
“So what?”
“Did you come?”
“I screamed.”
He looked stricken. “Did I hurt you that much?”
“I twisted my body until it ached.”
“Oh, that sounds bad! Did you want me to stop earlier?”
“My body felt torched by fire.”
“Damn!” He felt terrible about hurting her. He covered his eyes with his hand and wished he could bury himself in a hole.
“And then I had a huge climax that went on and on,” Elizabeth whispered.
He dropped his hand and stared at her. “Are you teasing me, woman? I thought you didn’t come.”
Heartened, Darcy was ready to roll her over to “punish” her again. But he saw that she had fallen asleep. Carefully, he slid from beneath her and got to his feet, gazing down at her in wonder…then froze when he saw that there was blood on her bottom.
Then another picture forced its way into his mind. He imagined hearing a high-pitched voice at his dining table – Elizabeth’s mother. She was talking about marrying off her younger daughters to his rich cousins or friends. Meanwhile, Elizabeth’s younger sisters, done up in trashy outfits, were flirting with all of the male members of the party.
He shuddered at the thought of Elizabeth’s coarse family members, and the involuntary movement startled Darcy out of his gloomy reverie. Aware again of his dark studio, he looked down at Elizabeth’s sleeping form and whispered aloud, “Let’s win this competition…and then we will have to talk.”
“Well now, William and Elizabeth, your hair and makeup are done, so I’ll leave you for half an hour to rest and talk about the strategy for your next dance. No one is allowed to disturb you. There are some sandwiches here, if you’d like them. Then, at 8.45, I’ll come back with the costume team to help you get ready for your freestyle dance. Just make sure you don’t mess up your hair and makeup in the meantime. By the way, congratulations on earning four 9's with your rumba!” With that, Louisa Hurst, the production assistant, shut the door and left them alone together.
Darcy saw a high-spirited Elizabeth turn in her chair. With glittering eyes, she said, “That was a great performance! You finally nailed it.”
“Finally, we have a moment to ourselves.” He left his chair, knelt in front of her, took her hands and said, “Frankly, Elizabeth, I liked the private dance we did last night on my couch even better. Our rumba just now has left me hot and unfulfilled.”
“You’ve got nerve mentioning last night!” she said, and he felt her trying to pull her hands from his.
“Why not? You and I both enjoyed it. We could relive it right now, you know.”
He lowered his head and meshed his lips with hers before she could say another word. He parted her lips with his tongue and traced her inner mouth thoroughly for several minutes. He liked the fact that her trembling tongue was playing duels with his.
His hands pushed the bathrobe aside and bared her shoulders and creamy breasts. His mouth reluctantly left her sweet lips and moved down to her delicious breasts. He laved and suckled one hardened nipple while his hand pinched the other one hard.
“Don’t!” He heard her moan.
“Too painful?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this. Someone may come in.”
“We have half an hour to ourselves. Louisa said so.” He stood up and turned away to lock the door.
When he turned back, he saw that Elizabeth risen, too, and turned her back to him. In the mirror on the wall, he saw that she had casually pulled her bathrobe up to cover her breasts, but not all the way up onto her shoulders.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he heard her whisper.
He walked back, wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed himself against her back and traced wet kisses from her earlobe to her neck and down to her bare shoulder. Then he untied the sash of her bathrobe. His hands cupped, weighing and rubbing her breasts eagerly.
He felt her shiver, and he looked into the mirror. His dark hands were a startling contrast to the snowy white skin of her breasts. Her lips were swollen by his kisses. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, half shut. The long hair piled on top of her head was in danger of falling down. This image of a sensually rumpled Elizabeth sent him into full
