Elizabeth stood, completely blown off course. Her lips tingled and her ears rang with Darcy's final words. As swiftly as the kiss had begun, it had ended. But she wanted more. She wanted Darcy to kiss like that again.
She slowly walked upstairs, making no move to fix her disheveled appearance. She sat down at the writing desk and stared at a blank sheet of paper. She would send him a letter, yes. But she couldn't move her hand.
Suddenly this whole situation just seemed folly. There was no way she had enough experience to keep up with Darcy. She'd outright lied about having been with a man. She had no experience in the intimate arts. And yet, that could work in her favor.
One of her most shameful secrets, not even Jane was aware of. It was centered around the completion of her Shaolin training. It was tradition in her temple for graduating monks to divest themselves of all fears - fear of impurity being one of them. Before their training could be finished, they would have to be divested of their "virtue" by an accommodating party.
To her knowledge, her sisters had all completed their training without a hitch. They had all spent their required evenings in the privacy of the dormitories, then gone to confession the next morning after their training had been pronounced complete and been absolved of their sins in the name of protecting the Crown.
Only her father and master knew of her inability to complete her task. She suspected her father had paid the temple a handsome sum in order for her to graduate. Her father had never broached the topic with her, but she wore the shame of incomplete training all the same.
But now, with Darcy, she had a perfect opportunity. After all there was no one else she detested more. If she allowed him to shed her of her virtue, her training would be symbolically complete and then they could part ways and never see one another again. Hopefully he would be eaten the next opportunity the dreadfuls got.
Elizabeth picked up the pen and with quick strokes penned a letter:
Dear Mr. Darcy, enclosed are my conditions.
1. All calls for 'stop' and 'halt' will be respected in the event of the task becoming too much.
2. No permanent harm.
3. No personal feelings.
I will be waiting in the orchard on the morrow. Meet me at your earliest convenience.
E.B.
She entrusted the letter to the footman, handing him an extra hatchet for protection on his way over to Netherfield. As she watched him ride away, her stomach jumped nervously.
If she were to best Darcy in the competition, she would have to learn quite a bit. Research would be required. Elizabeth wiped the ink from her hands. She must to the library, to study her father's forbidden tomes.
Dear Mr. Darcy, enclosed are my conditions.
1. All calls for 'stop' and 'halt' will be respected in the event of the task becoming too much.
2. No permanent harm.
3. No personal feelings.
I will be waiting in the orchard on the morrow. Meet me at your earliest convenience.
E.B.
Fitzwilliam Darcy couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe that a proper Englishwoman, such as he had believed Miss Bennet to be, would have the gall to go through with this... this plan!
His anger was only outmatched by his desire for a challenge...and by his desire for a woman. It had been some time since he'd had his needs met, pride keeping him from overindulging on the cheap whores that frequented the streets outside his London apartment.
No personal feelings... Darcy could do that. He would use Elizabeth's bluster to his advantage, and when she ran out of courage he would be able to disappear risk-free. It was the ideal situation.
But say she didn't give in to the pressures of their game...
He had no idea if she were lying about her experience with men. He knew that students of the Shaolin divested themselves of all anchors, including physical ones. But how much further she had explored was a mystery. If she was a wanton, she hid it well behind her prideful manner.
If she called his bluff instead of the other way around, he would have no choice but to test the final boundary. He had no collusions about allowing her access to his full physical map, he would prove himself steeled against whatever feminine charms she purportedly had.
But even as he thought it, Darcy felt his groin stir with anticipation.
Tomorrow. The orchard.
And there he was in his personal study, hard as a rock. That would not do. He scribbled a hasty reply to Elizabeth, rang for the footman, and attempted to compose himself. His breeches felt godawfully tight.
After the footman left, armed with an extra pistol, Darcy let his thoughts wander again. What sort of things could he teach Elizabeth? What sort of things would he be taught?
Elizabeth looked down at the hastily scribbled note.
7:00. Darcy.
Two words on an awfully large piece of paper. But how they made her stomach turn. She crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fireplace, her eyes returning to the pages of the book she'd been perusing all afternoon.
She turned a page, an illumination from the Kama Sutra causing a flush to creep up her neck and between her thighs. It showed a man with a woman on top of him, his... nether regions penetrating not just her most sacred space, but another place entirely. The thought of it filled her with disgust and curiosity.
She had learned things beyond her comprehension in the small time she'd spent in the library with the book. She longed to steal away and examine herself in the way that the book described, feel the things that these women were feeling... And yet, it was almost shameful what they were doing.
One of her hands slid into the pocket of her skirt, edging along her thigh as she examined the illustration. Her fingers prodded the area between her legs, surprising her with a bolt of warm pleasure as their exploration yielded new feelings. She knew the area down there was naturally wet and covered with delicate hair, and must be kept clean at all times. But she had never delved beyond practicality.
Elizabeth prodded the area again, pleasant feelings shimmering outwards through her body. And again, and again, until...
"ELIZABETH!" Her mother bellowed from the sitting room. She jumped, withdrawing her damp fingers. She wiped her hands hastily and composed herself before closing and returning the book.
Her heart jumped at the thought of the next morning and what was yet to come.
Darcy's hand tightened around his shaft and trying to grind the last few strokes needed to achieve his release. The motions were so practiced from frequent need for relief that he failed to understand why his release did not wax closer, he sighed in frustration.
He had practiced for years the ability to release without, in fact, releasing any seed. A practical notion in these times. But he had grown so used to pulling himself back from the brink of total release that he barely remembered what it felt like. And now he couldn't find release whatsoever. It had been so long.
You want to finish inside her. ON her. A wicked, wicked voice in his head whispered.
"No." He said, letting his hand fall still. His member twitched and began to fall flaccid.
You want to cover her body with your seed, letting it cover her-
"No..." Darcy whined. But the mental imagery was enough. He was growing hard again, aching.
Her pink tongue flicking out to gather up a pearl of his seed, taking it all in-
"Agh!" He felt his orgasm hit like a shock and he barely pulled himself back in time to keep himself from spattering his desk and important papers with his seed. He leaned back in his chair, panting.
He'd gone months without any sort of release, finding neither time nor privacy on the front lines. Now, the image of Elizabeth in lurid sexuality had brought him there in an instant.
His sex ached, and he inwardly damned himself for not allowing himself release. He would have to be extra careful that whatever Elizabeth might do to him the next morning would not incite him to release his seed on her, or god forbid, in her.
Darcy ran his (nonsoiled) hand through his hair and across his face. Maybe Elizabeth wasn't the one he needed to worry about.
Tomorrow they would see.
At the thought of tomorrow, Darcy's member jumped in anticipation, eliciting a loud groan of frustration.