CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
"Shall I bring up luncheon, sir?"Mrs.Carroll's voice carried through the door, carefully neutral.
"No."Darcy's voice held remarkable steadiness for a man currently spreading Elizabeth's thighs wider to watch his essence drip from her."Send dinner when it's ready."
"Very good, sir."
Footsteps retreated.Darcy withdrew his fingers slowly, making Elizabeth whimper at the loss.He turned her onto her back, and she slid boneless from the bed onto her knees, needing to touch him as desperately as he'd needed to touch her.
His member jutted from his open breeches, still hard, wet with his release, glistening with their combined fluids.Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around him, marveling at the heat, the weight of him in her palm.Above her, Darcy's breath caught, his hands tangling in her loosened hair.
"Taste yourself," he growled.
Leaning forward, Elizabeth let her tongue glide along him, learning the taste of their joining—brine and warmth and something indefinably theirs.She heard Darcy's restraint fracture, felt his fingers curl into her hair, caught in that space between guidance and desperation.
"Christ," he managed through a locked jaw."Your mouth—"
She welcomed him deeper, her curious fingers mapping the pronounced swell of his knot, still engorged and burning from his release.The feel of it—textured and alive beneath her palm—enthralled her.His body betrayed him with a forward thrust before he wrestled back control, the sound in his chest more animal than man.
"Careful," he cautioned, his register dropping into territory she'd never heard.He stilled her with his grip, visibly warring with himself."You don't know what you're playing with."
Except she understood perfectly.The evidence lived in his quaking muscles, in the untamed thing rising behind his eyes.Her unpracticed mouth had reduced this commanding alpha to this.Elizabeth increased the suction, claimed more of him, and bore witness to his dissolution.
Every pretense of civility fractured.His grip turned commanding, directing her movements while profanities tumbled free—language she'd never suspected the proper Mr.Darcy possessed.
"Perfect little omega mouth," he ground out."Taking me so fucking well—"
The chamber filled with sounds no lady should make—small, strangled noises when she attempted too much, the wet glide of her tongue mapping unfamiliar territory, those helpless, stifled cries that hummed through her whenever his fingers twisted deeper into her hair.She withdrew once to catch her breath, moisture still linking them, but his hand brought her back before her lungs could fill—her reddened, glistening mouth proving more temptation than his control could withstand.
These noises escaping her would have brought burning shame mere hours before.They merely fed the growing wildness in his eyes.
His knot pressed against her lips, too large to take, and Elizabeth whimpered her frustration.She wanted all of him, wanted to swallow him down until nothing separated them.Her tongue traced the swollen ridge, learning its shape while Darcy's entire body went rigid above her.
"Enough."He pulled her up roughly, crushing his mouth to hers.She tasted herself on his tongue as he'd tasted himself on hers—their flavors mingling until she couldn't distinguish where one ended and the other began.His hands worked at her stays, cursing when the laces tangled.Something ripped—definitely hers this time—and cool air kissed her heated skin.
"Bed," he commanded, though he was already lifting her, carrying her the three steps necessary.The torn remnants of her wedding dress pooled forgotten on the floor.He stripped his own clothing with violent efficiency, buttons scattering across the carpet.
Skin.His against hers.Nothing between them.Elizabeth bit back a sob—relief, recognition, rightness all tangled together.He lowered himself onto her and the world narrowed to this: his weight driving her deep into the blankets, his mouth at her throat, the careful graze of teeth where her blood beat wildest, testing, tasting, claiming without breaking skin.
"Now?"she breathed, tilting her head to bare more skin."Will you mark me now?"
His answering growl vibrated through her bones.
A whine tore from her when he only rubbed his lips against her throat."What must I do to have it?"
"Everything."He pulled back to study her face, his eyes black with want but sharp with control."You must beg prettily.Tell me exactly what you need."
Elizabeth's breath caught.Even now, even naked beneath him with her thighs still wet from their joining, he would make her work for it.Make her earn it.
"Please," she began, but he shook his head.
"Specific, Mrs.Darcy.I would hear my wife speak plainly."
Heat flooded her cheeks—not from shame but from the way he said wife, like it was another word for mine.She squirmed beneath him, trying to find friction, but he held himself just out of reach.
"I need your teeth," she managed."In my throat.Your mark where everyone can see."
"Better."He lowered his head, lips brushing where he would bite, but not yet, not yet."And?"
