Part 1, NC-17
“My lord, how was your speech today?”
“Elizabeth, I told you not to call me ‘My lord’!” Darcy said as he sat down on the chaise in the bed chambers and started tugging the cravat.
“But you are now the Lord of Peverel,” Elizabeth replied archly and walked behind her husband of 20 years to help him take off the neck cloth. “And today you gave your first speech to the Parliament. I must pay my respect to my lord most humbly.” She could not help herself, curtsied to him and broke out in chuckles.
At the grand old age of 40, she was still as playful as Darcy first knew her. With a loud growl, he stood up, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her down from behind the chair onto his laps. “Well, the new Lord of Peverel wants your homage differently.” He schooled his expression to an arrogant countenance.
She stopped laughing and said, “Fitzwilliam my lord, how do you want to be esteemed?”
“The speech you helped me to draft was a bit too long,” he said with a frown, “and the parliament hot. I am thirsty and in dire need of some refreshment.”
“Oh, I shall ring for a cold drink this instant,” she tried to stand up but he prevented her.
“I have some thing fresher in mind.” He winked and started to pull the day dress off her shoulders.
“Fitzwilliam!” She exclaimed, “The guests will arrive soon to celebrate your debut in the Parliament. We have no time…”
He lowered his head and nipped her lower lip, shutting her up effectively. His hands moved to palm her lush breasts. After breast feeding six children in the intervening years, her bosom had matured to the most voluptuous shape that excited him to no end.
He felt the tiredness from his maiden political appearance completely gone, replaced by a new frenzy. Thrusting his tongue to savour the sweet nectar of her mouth, he immediately met with resistance. His lovely wife pushed his tongue back and forth while rubbing her warm and round buttocks against his thighs fiercely.
Blood pounded in his veins and his arousal grew. He tried to stand up and take her to the bed. But she squirmed and teased his bulge to unbearable hardness. His legs weakened and he lowered her on the floor instead.
Burying his face on her gorgeous cleavage, he licked the smooth creamy mounds that smelled of lavender. His hands pulled up her dress and caressed her velvety thighs.
“Fitzwilliam, the guests…” She moaned.
To be continued in the next post...