“That’s right, Lizzie. Say my name.”
“Darcy!” I gasp.
“Scream it, you whore.”
That’s what does it.
Those two words: you whore.
That’s what makes me undeniably lose my mind.
I come.
“DARCY! OH MY GOD! WILL DARCY! FUCK ME! DO ME! LICK MY FUCKING CUNT! YES! YES! YE—”
Suddenly, he’s behind me. One hand wrapped around my waist, holding me against him. The other, wet with my juices and his cum, is clapped over my mouth.
“You’re going to get me in trouble, Lizzie,” he laughs, pulling me close.
I consider the ramifications of my actions and decide I don’t care.
I lick his fingers until he slips them into my mouth. Once I’ve sucked them clean, I relax against him, my lips slick and smiling.
“You’re good at going down, Will Darcy. The whole city ought to know.”
“And now they do. Christ. Your neighbors are going to hate me.”
“They live next door to a sex mansion. They knew what they were getting into.”
The night is cool, but his body is warm. I press my back against him, just relishing the way he feels. Normally, when the sex is over all I can think about is how I’m going to get my partner out of my bed. But Darcy…Darcy’s different.
Darcy, I just want to get into my bed.
It’s not until we’re on the front steps of the Bennet B
abes mansion and he’s kissing me goodnight that I realize the night is finally over.
Worse…I realize that I don’t actually want it to end.
Lizzie
“Yeah, just come on in. Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
Jane’s busy kitting a steel-grey scarf in her famous jet-black rocking chair. She is not a fan of my barging in without knocking.
Despite her sarcasm, I do make myself at home by plopping down on her deep violet velvet dining chair. I throw my head back and let my hair fall over the back of the chair. She simply shakes her head and gets back to work. I sigh loudly.
“Lizzie, just say it.”
She’s not having any bullshit, as usual. She slurps a sip of her Earl Grey tea.
“Say what?”
I have so much to say, but I just hold it in for a while, listening to the jazz station playing gently through Jane’s ancient, tube-powered radio. The soothing sound of soft electric piano drifts through the air. I feel the music wash over me, making me feel even more ecstatic from head to toe.
No garden variety bullshit daydreams for me—this is the afterglow of a fantasy brought to life.
“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever.”