Elizabeth struggled against her bonds, her core a pulsing ache of pleasure and need. Her husband stroked her, agonizingly soft and slow as he sucked on her breast, bringing her closer and then retreating again from that peak.
“Please,” Elizabeth begged, feeling utterly lost. She didn’t care that she was begging. She didn’t care that she was wild for his touch. She wanted him inside her. Ached for him.
“Please what?”
Her inner thighs were slick, and she strained against her bonds, trying to get relief. She was so frantic he had to plant a palm against her thigh to keep her in place.
Darcy lapped at the skin of her neck. Then, he bit the tender place where her shoulder met her throat.
Elizabeth cried out.
It was too much, too good.
Another bite, this one grazing the soft flesh of her right breast.
She felt him, hot and hard against her knee, and it was enough to send a fresh rush of hunger through her. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. Wanted him deep inside her body. Not just his fingers, a teasing foreplay that pushed her further than it fulfilled.
The pain and pleasure were a flood of sensation and she cried out, her voice rising as she struggled against the bindings.
Darcy licked the spot, soothing it, and then kissed his way down her dewy skin.
The touch of his lips against her threatened to tear away her control. Elizabeth sobbed in frustration, her body dancing beneath his. The binding on her ankles threatened to be uncomfortable, and his hands on her waist kept her from thrusting her hips in the way she wanted, needed to push her over the edge.
“You are so beautiful,” Darcy said, his face pressed against her belly.
Elizabeth clung to his words and how he spoke them. How his fingers slipped inside, sending sparks of sweet pleasure as he pumped once, twice, three times. Her hips hitched in a desperate rhythm. She clenched around them, trembling, her body focusing on a single point as he pulled the fingers out, leaving her quivering, empty.
Fitzwilliam lifted his fingers, slick with her juices, to his mouth and sucked.
“I love tasting you,” he said, locking her gaze in his. “I love playing with you. Making your pleasure my command.”
Elizabeth’s fingers and toes clenched. She was so close.
How long would he make her wait? How long would he make them wait? “I want you,” she said. “Inside me.”
“I know.” Darcy leaned towards her and pressed a kiss to her thigh.
He didn’t promise to give her what she needed, but his voice, his words, his worship of her body—it overwhelmed her senses, and she felt the pleasure rise again as he lapped at her thigh, as he kissed.
“Fitz!” she sobbed.
She felt his fingers over her right wrist, pulling the knot free by touch. Then her left. She plunged her hands into his hair, loving the feel of it through her fingers as he pressed a kiss to her mouth, his tongue flicking inside in a sweep that made her fingers clench.
Then he was at her ankles, untying them.
Elizabeth wanted to leap up, throw herself at him, but though the physical bindings were gone, she felt lost, trapped in her need and pleasure, craving her husband’s member inside her. To clench herself around it and come apart.
Elizabeth loosened her hands from his hair and ran them down, feeling at the shoulders of his banyan, wanting to tear it free and feel only her husband’s bare skin, the rough hair of his chest, against her. She managed to push the fabric over his shoulders, down his back, and he shrugged it free, shaking it from his arms and letting it fall.
Next went his nightshirt, revealing his full, naked form, the dark triangle of hair sweeping over his chest and down, tapering at his belly towards his now jutting member.
Fitzwilliam locked gazes with her, pupils dilated in passion. His manhood, heavy and thick, rose up from a thatch of dark brown hair, the shaft curving back towards his belly.
Elizabeth stared through the veil of her half-shut eyes, her lips parted as the breath hitched in her throat. She wanted to touch, taste, and have him breech her, split her, and fill her with pleasure.
Fitzwilliam leaned over her, resting his palms on her hips and then in one smooth motion, lifted her up, impaling her on his manhood.
The strength and control should not have surprised her. She might not have known all of his desires, but she’d learned his body in the month since they’d spoken their vows.
She gasped, closing her eyes. She was tight. Too tight. The pleasure was too intense. She threw her head back, thrusting her breasts forward, wanting him to touch her.
Fitzwilliam did, reaching up with one hand and cupping one of her breasts with his warm hand. He squeezed it gently and then let his thumb slide around to tease her nipple.
“Oh,” Elizabeth murmured. “Oh, yes.”
He kneaded her breast, sending tingles of pleasure down to her core. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck as, step by step, he walked her towards the bed, each movement sending shocks of pleasure through her.
Elizabeth was on the brink of release when he laid her down gently, his manhood slipping free.
“No,” Elizabeth whimpered.
Fitzwilliam laughed softly. "I am not stopping.”
Elizabeth looked up at him. His dark hair, usually so well controlled, hung disheveled and sweat stiff over his brow, his lips damp, eyes wide and dark with desire.
Fitzwilliam chuckled and lowered himself on top of her, and his weight another binding. She had no choice but to accept what he wanted. What she wanted.
He thrust, filling her, and Elizabeth cried out, her body arching, meeting him, taking everything, giving everything, enjoying every moment. She lost herself in his smell, his sweat, as he kissed her, his tongue lapping at her lower lip as they breathed together.
Fitzwilliam stroked her hair, kissed her neck, kissed down to her breasts, her belly. She writhed against him, closing her eyes and focusing on his attentions, on the aching hunger inside her.
Fitzwilliam caught her wrists, locking them together in his free hand, pulling them over her head.
His grip was the final piece.
Elizabeth twisted beneath him, her thighs crushing against his, as the orgasm rushed through her, unravelling her in blinding waves.