Darcy was moments from breaking. His need bordered on pain. He had wanted Elizabeth's to suffer and doomed himself to the same fate.
But what a fate!
Darcy turned his attention to her other breast, those lovely breasts which had sheathed and held him at the edge of release.
Elizabeth’s lips and skin were flushed, and she struggled in his grip, her body arching towards him.
God, he loved this. He loved her. How could she imagine he could want another woman?
Though admittedly, experiencing his wife as his mistress added spice to their union. Best he think of her as Miss Eliza now, though after, when he made love to her again, he would pull the wig away and run his fingers through her magnificent dark curls.
Darcy ran his palm over her thigh and up, tickling the hair of the womanhood before dipping his finger inside.
So wet for him.
Miss Eliza’s hips hitched as he pushed deeper while his thumb circled the nub at the crest, causing her to let out a delightful mewling sound. Darcy kept his touch light and teasing as she pushed against him and begged.
He knelt, taking her nipple in his mouth again, as his fingers caressed her in long, teasing touches which he knew would sharpen her pleasure but not offer her the release her body craved.
"Please! Fitz— Mr. Darcy! Please!" The next sounds were wonderfully incoherent.
Darcy lifted his mouth from her breast a moment and said, "I am still uncertain.”
“What?”
Darcy smiled, pushing a second finger in and pressing of the pad of his thumb harder against the slick nub of her pleasure. “Have you earned my forgiveness?"
"Yes!"
Darcy alternated light touches with firmer movements, rubbing her nub between his finger and thumb before thrusting them back inside, reducing her to moans and the occasional calling out of his name.
He wanted to taste her, but his own aching manhood could not stand another moment outside her. He pulled his finger out, putting one in his mouth and reveling in the salty-sourness of her juices. She whimpered, eyes fluttering open. Her mouth was parted and her chest heaved.
He straddled her, the tip of his manhood teasing her entrance, and said, "I forgive you. For now."
He slid inside.
The pleasure was exquisite, stealing his breath. He held himself there, sheathed, and then Elizabeth moved her hips, and Darcy could not hold back any longer. He pulled out, thrusting deep again and again. She came apart around him, pulsing, and he rode the wave of pleasure.
Darcy fell against her, his nose against her neck as the release stole his thoughts. They lay together, joined as master and mistress, man and wife.
Elizabeth pulled him closer, caressing his cheek with her thumb. "I suppose Mrs. Dorset was correct in one small thing."
"I do not wish to speak of that woman."
Elizabeth laughed. "But did you not crave novelty? At least a little?"
Darcy could not deny this rendezvous had been enjoyable. "A certain kind," he murmured. “Now stop this foolishness and kiss me again."
"Yes, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth agreed.