Page 24 of Mr. Darcy's Storm of Temptation

"Can we do it again? How soon can we do that again?" she asked, then blushed at her own boldness.

He laughed, rolling her beneath him again. "My insatiable wife. Give me a few minutes to recover, and I will show you even more."

True to his word, they made love again within the hour, this time with her above him, sinking down onto his length with a moan of satisfaction. The position gave her control, and she reveled in it, watching his face contort with pleasure as she rode him.

"Elizabeth," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips. "You are going to be the death of me."

"What a way to die," she teased, then gasped as he thrust up to meet her, hitting that special place deep inside.

She experimented with rhythm and angle, delighting in his responses: the way his eyes rolled back when she circled herhips, the broken curses when she squeezed her inner muscles around him.

"You learn quickly," he panted.

"I have an excellent teacher," she replied, then cried out as he sat up suddenly, capturing her breast in his mouth while she continued to move on him.

When she released this time, feeling him so deep, watching his face as he lost control beneath her, she understood true power. This was what it meant to be married: this complete union of body and soul, this perfect give and take of pleasure.

They dozed, tangled in the thoroughly debauched sheets, but woke near dawn to explore yet again. This time he positioned her on her hands and knees, entering her from behind.

"Is this proper?" she gasped, even as her body welcomed him eagerly.

"Nothing about us has ever been proper," he reminded her, his hand sliding around to touch her as he moved. "And you love it."

She did. God help her, she loved every wicked thing he did to her, everything he taught her about pleasure and passion.

When the sun finally rose, they lay exhausted and sated. The sheets were hopelessly tangled and stained, pillows thrown to the floor, one of the bed curtains actually torn from their enthusiasm.

"We have destroyed the bedchamber," Elizabeth observed, stretching languidly.

"We have destroyed each other," Mr. Darcy corrected, pulling her against him. "In the best possible way."

She could feel beard burn on her inner thighs, her neck, her breasts. Love bites bloomed on her skin like flowers. She had never felt so thoroughly debauched or so completely satisfied.

"So that is what all the fuss is about," she said with a satisfied smile.

"Oh, my darling wife," he said, already kissing her neck in that way that made her melt despite her exhaustion. "That was only the beginning. We have a lifetime to explore each other, to learn every way to give each other pleasure."

"A lifetime," she agreed, turning in his arms to kiss him properly. "I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Thank you for being patient with me, for waiting for me to see the truth."

"And what truth is that?" he asked, though his eyes showed he already knew.

"That we were meant for each other. That every obstacle, every misunderstanding, every storm led us to this moment."

"To this bed, you mean?" he teased.

She laughed, but then grew serious. "To this love. This perfect, consuming, eternal love."

He kissed her then, slow and deep and full of promise. Outside, London was waking to a new day. Inside their chamber, Elizabeth and Darcy were lost in each other, beginning their marriage as they meant to continue it: with passion, with tenderness, with complete and utter devotion.

EPILOGUE: SIX MONTHS LATER

Elizabeth stood at the window of Pemberley's master suite, one hand resting on the subtle swell of her stomach where their child grew. Though only beginning to show, she knew that soon she would need to alter her gowns. Spring had come to Derbyshire, and the gardens were in full bloom. She could see Mr. Darcy walking with Georgiana, both of them laughing at something.

Her husband. Six months married, and she still felt a thrill every time she thought the words. Six months of passion that had not dimmed, of love that grew stronger every day.

"You should be resting," Mr. Darcy said from the doorway, having returned without her noticing.

"I am perfectly well," she assured him, turning to face him. "The doctor said I am in excellent health."