Page 67 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

His cock might as well have been made of flint or steel. The hardness felt almost unnatural. Her body rejected the intrusion at first. Perhaps her folds were not pliant enough, her entry too tight, his cock too thick, or any combination of the aforementioned. But once again, desire prevailed over all opposition. Desire indicated this, above all else, was the path to glory.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

She shook her head. It was tolerable pain. They kissed for several minutes as she cradled him between her legs. At last, his shaft moved deeper inside of her and breached the final wall of resistance. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. She did her best to stifle her cries and did shut her eyes against the piercing pain. She understood now Cleland’s metaphors of weaponry, for surely this was what it felt like to be speared.

He covered her with kisses, as if they could take away the anguish. Angling his hips, he slowly withdrew, grazing his cock against her most sensitive and arousing spot. She shivered. Gently he pushed himself back into her. The pain began to defer to the delightful stimulation of his motions. Her cunnie pulsed about him, now welcoming the invader. She, too, angled her hips so that his hardness could better rub against her nub of pleasure. His rhythmic thrusting both satisfied and amplified her craving.

“Oh…yes,” she breathed as he plunged deeper.

She clasped him harder as the pressure mounted deep within her womb. Her nipples chafed against his chest, but she adored every sensation. She undulated her hips, wanting to maximize the friction, wanting him to fill her as much as possible. It was all so maddening, thrilling, agitating, and glorious.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she encouraged.

He quickened the offensive, making the bed shake with his efforts. Perspiration beaded upon his brow. The sound of flesh smacking against flesh joined their grunts and groans, ehcoing off the chamber walls. In heated desperation, she impaled herself more forcefully upon his cock, attempting to push herself past the precipice. He responded by shoving himself faster and harder at her. Her release came as an eruption, catapulting her into an overload of blinding magnificence. A loud cry tore from her throat. Her body jerked uncontrollably against him. She thought her teeth to chatter as spasm after spasm rolled through her body.

After the apex of her euphoria had passed, she cringed and shuddered. The sensations, now past their prime, became too much. She was spent. Her heart hammered as if she had sprinted against winged gods. Her cunnie pulsed wildly about his cock, which remained throbbing inside of her. And in the warmth of his body, the weight of him upon her, she felt a surprising comfort and strangely secure. She took in a long breath and soaked in the brilliance of what she had just experienced.

*****

After rolling off of her, Darcy folded her in his arms as they lay upon the now sodden bedclothes. Her body was warm and damp from perspiration, her cheeks flushed, her breathing audible. He thought she had never appeared more beautiful. He had had every intention, before he spent, of withdrawing from her, though nothing had ever felt more divine than the wet heat that pulsed around his shaft. But the look of her, the sound of her, the feel of her as she succumbed to the throes of lustful passion, had proven too much.

“My God, what have I done?” he groaned silently after his seed had emptied inside of her.

For one brief moment, he had never felt more glorious, his body having shot into the heavens of carnal pleasure, but the penitence set in swift and deep. What he had done was irresponsible. Unforgivable. She had trusted him, Abby had trusted him, to do right by his student. And he had failed.

His lust for her had proven the stronger rival to his conscience. Even now, awash in misery over his failing, he reveled in the pleasure of holding her. If only he could have her thus for an eternity. Without guilt. Without shame. His to possess by right.

The simple solution came to him then. He could not undo his error, but he could made amends by preventing the worst of consequences from materializing and, concurrently, satisfy his own, heartfelt wish.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

After the effects of the aphrodisiac had dissipated completely, the knowledge of what Nicholas had done angered Lizzy readily. She had felt violated and wished to confront him, but her instructor had forbid any contact with the rogue, promising her that Nicholas would never again cause harm in Trenwith House.

How tender her instructor had been in words and manner yesterday! They had lain for some time in the Temple of Bastet. She had fallen asleep in his arms, as comfortable as a babe in the embrace of its mother. The soreness between her legs recalled the significance of what had happened, but where there ought to have been regret or shame, she was surprisingly calm. As he handed her over to Sally, Lizzy fancied him reluctant to part with her. They had spoken little, and he had seemed preoccupied, but she felt more kindred with him. Afterall, she had allowed him to penetrate her most intimate place.

Remorse, perhaps even panic, would come soon enough in the ensuing days, but for the present, Lizzy wanted only to marvel at carnality’s bliss, for such it was and most wondrous! She felt a little sheepish but also exhilarated by her own wantonness. For at least one day, she would revel in the amazing pleasure her body was capable of. The afterglow lent a lightness to her step, more colour to her sight, and a flush to her cheeks whenever she recalled some part of what had transpired for her at Trenwith House. In such good spirits was she, and convinced of nothing that could dampen her outlook, that she dared to come across Mr. Darcy by taking a walk in the park. But it was Colonel Fitzwilliam who surprised her.

"I did not know before that you ever walked this way."

"I have been making the tour of the park," he replied, "as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?"

"No, I should have turned in a moment."

And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together.

"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she.

"Yes—if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases."

"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy."

"He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence."

"In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

"These are honest questions—and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like."

"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do."