It was half one when the maid slipped into Mr. Darcy's room.
Miss Eliza, the naughty maid, wore one of his wife's frocks. She held a candle in her right hand and a feather duster in her left. Her hair, lustrous brown, was pulled back in a severe knot away from her face. Her belly, five months with child, rounded attractively beneath her borrowed frock.
Darcy smiled. He had been awaiting this maid’s arrival. "Dusting, so late in the night?" he remarked.
Miss Eliza froze. The candlelight flickered over her face as her lips parted. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, and it was almost a moan.
Darcy admired the lush form of her body. The maid’s breasts strained against the bodice of her frock, its hemline too short, revealing the curve of her calf and delicate ankles. Darcy’s manhood stirred.
"Mr. Darcy, I must beg your forgiveness. I had hoped to finish my duties without disturbing you." She looked him over, his sleeping shirt open, revealing a patch of dark hair.
Darcy sat up on his elbow and shrugged the duvet from his hips. He let Miss Eliza see how she affected him. He said, “I cannot say I approve of your performing your duties at such a late hour, disturbing my rest."
The maid’s lips twitched. Her eyes, always dark, seemed darker in the candlelight. A single curl had escaped the knot at her neck. It fell over her temple and brushed her cheek.
Darcy said, "But, if you are diligent, you may earn my forgiveness."
Miss Eliza set the candle on the nightstand, and, feather duster in hand, dropped to her knees at the side of the bed. "Please, Mr. Darcy, my place here means so much to me. How might I earn your forgiveness?" She fluttered the duster over her chest and then pressed a kiss to his ankle.
"Very good," Darcy said. "Put that down, Miss Eliza and come here," he said, beckoning her onto the bed. He scooted back to allow her room, and the maid, abandoning the feather duster, climbed up, placing her palms at the inside of each of his open thighs and pushed them apart.
His manhood thickened as, eyes wide, she looked down at him.
"Touch me," he ordered.
“Where?" She pulled her hands back, running her fingers along the smooth skin of his inner thighs down towards his knees and then back up, grazing the crease where his legs met his crotch." Here?" But instead of taking his manhood in hand, she traced it with her fingers before running them up his belly to his chest, her teeth flashing in the candlelight as she circled his nipple and then pinched it.
Darcy breathed out through his teeth as the brief spark of pain was drowned in a sharper wave of pleasure.
Miss Eliza knew him too well. She said, "You like that." She repeated it on his other side. Before running her fingers through his chest hair and down his belly.
"I said, touch me," Darcy said.
"I am touching you."
The vixen! She pressed a kiss to his belly, and then again further down, circling his navel with her tongue as she flicked her hands beneath the waistband of his small pants and ran them over his manhood.
Elizabeth pressed her lips to his head, kissing him most intimately.
He reached up to push her away, but she slapped him away and hummed, flicking her tongue against the head before taking him deeper. Darcy held his hips still, though he wanted nothing more than to push deeper inside her hot, willing mouth. She took him just past the head, her tongue flat against his base.
Darcy moaned.
He reached down, to take himself in hand, but she pushed him away again and then gripped his base, stroking in time with her mouth embracing a third of his length, up and down.
Darcy gripped the duvet, desperate to hold still. “Yes," he said, his voice rough.
Miss Eliza hummed something and took him deeper.
The rhythm was not enough to bring him to release, but the pleasure of it, in combination with the fact it was his wife—his Miss Eliza—pleasuring him so, inflamed his desire. She had read the folio he had slipped into his room the previous night, and far from being disgusted, she must have studied it.
Miss Eliza stroked and sucked him, cupping his bollocks with her free hand, and he could not stay still any longer. He thrust, hard, disturbing her rhythm.
"I—apologize." He gasped.
She pulled off him with an unseemly pop. "It is I who am begging your forgiveness, Mr. Darcy," she said and licked him, circling his head, while stroking him slowly. Too slowly.
"Come here," he said.
Miss Eliza crawled up, and he unpinned her hair. It fell in a dark wave of silk around her face. He kissed her, hard, and she returned it. In the ill-fitting frock, her breasts pressed against him.
When they parted to breathe, Darcy said, "Very nice, Ms. Eliza. But I would strip this frock from you," he said, weaving his fingers through her hair and then resting between her shoulder blades just above the back of the dress. "But you will need to return to your rooms this evening, and it would be shameful for you to do so half clothed."
"Very shameful.” Ms. Eliza smiled. “I could spend the night."
"The other maids will gossip. I would not ask that of you."
"Not so much if they know you approve, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy said, "Lay down, beside me."
Ms. Eliza, ever obedient, did as he asked, opening her legs and gazing up at him as he settled himself between them, his tongue dipping into her juices. He felt for the small knot that gave her such pleasure. When he found it, her hips hitched. Darcy pulled away and gave her a sharp smack on her thigh. "Be still," he said.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy," she said, gasping as he flicked his tongue inside again, sparking her pleasure.
Darcy teased her a little longer, until her thighs shook. He pulled away. "How naughty you must feel, tempting your master this way."
“Please, Mr. Darcy.”
He licked her again, teasing that knot of pleasure.
Miss Eliza gasped, the slope of her belly obscuring her view. She sat up on her elbows, but the pleasure became too much, and she fell back. She squirmed again, unable to help herself, and was rewarded with another's sharp smack of pain.
Mr. Darcy pulled away, and she whimpered.
“I am very close to forgiving you," he said.
He teased her again, licking and sucking her to the edge of release before pulling away and kissing her lips. She tasted her own juices and moaned, sucking on his tongue as he slid himself inside.
They rocked together, master and maid, man and wife, his every movement bringing her closer and closer to a glorious pleasure until it washed through her, and her inner walls pulsed around him.
Darcy let out a long moan, unable to hold back as he spilled inside of her.
He kissed her hair, forehead, and cheek as he softened.
Miss Eliza asked, "Am I forgiven?"
Darcy smiled against her cheek. "This time," he whispered against her skin. "This once, if you spend the night, we shall call it acceptable."
"Merely acceptable?"
"Let me get you the rest of the way out of that dress, and we shall see what is acceptable, and what is more."
"I love you, Mr. Darcy,"
“And I you, my most lovely mistress and wife.”
The End.