What if Darcy and Elizabeth met over a singing contest?
“He’s an arrogant arsch!,” Elizabeth declared, as she sucked in a deep draught of her cocktail.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure ‘arse’ is ‘arsch’ in German? Hmm, Herr Wilhelm Darcy does have a very touchable arsch, I must admit.”
“I overheard him saying that the Bennet sisters’ costumes were tacky, and that we wouldn’t be worth a vote! Well, the lovely Eurovision audiences had more sense than he did, and we’re now runners-up. We may not have won the title, but I think we did nicely for the UK. Why did he host the show, anyway? I thought pop music would be too ‘low’ for the German classical music genius.”
“Didn’t you hear the gossip? His teenager sister, Gerlinde, wanted to host the show, and the broadcast company would only take her on if the multi-million-dollar Herr Darcy agreed to be part of it, as well. Anyway, you’ve just landed yourself a solo recording contract. Very nicely done!”
“In Germany, no less! I’ll need to brush up on my German vocabulary about all those hot male body parts. But I pity Gerlinde Darcy. I wouldn’t want to be saddled with Herr Darcy my whole life. Not for a million dollars.”
Charlotte suddenly and frantically tilted her head to the right. Elizabeth turned to follow her gaze and saw the man of their discussion approaching.
He greeted Charlotte with a silent nod and addressed Elizabeth with an intense gaze. “Miss Bennet, would you care for a dance?”
“I ... umm … yes.” Elizabeth couldn’t think of a decent excuse for saying no, and so she downed the cocktail and followed Herr Darcy out with a frustrated stomp on the floor.
When they reached the dance floor, he took her hand and drew her close to him as a slow song began. She felt heat rush through her body immediately, his strong torso pressing firmly against her breasts, and his hands resting on the base of her back, tantalisingly close to her bottom.
It was lucky for her that she wasn’t wearing the backless short dress that her mother had designed for the competition. Privately, Elizabeth had to admit that the costume was tacky and trashy, and the front of it was cut low to expose her ample cleavage. As soon as the show was over, she had changed into a shimmering black number that more closely resembled a nun’s habit.
“Congratulations on the competition. Your voice transmits deep emotion and meaning.” Darcy’s baritone made her heart skip a beat, and his compliments were deeply satisfying. Your sister was also excellent, but I sense that you have some reservations about my own behaviour at the show,” he challenged, and stared down at her.
Instead of answering him, Elizabeth just shrugged. She hadn’t forgotten his arrogant remarks during the competition.
“I made a list of three important items before asking you to dance,” he continued.
Very organised. Typical German behaviour, she thought.
“First, I want to apologise for the remarks about your costume. I know that you overhead me.”
“So you’re apologising only because I heard you?”
“No. I am truly sorry for judging you before I had all of the facts. I understand now that the costume was your mother’s design.”
Elizabeth nodded, already forgiving him since he was apologising so seriously. “And the second item on your list?”
“May I take you out for dinner? I learned from your mother that you will be staying in Germany for a week.”
“Wow, you’re very direct. And quick! But what’s this about talking to my mum?”
His lip curled up slightly. “I prefer to think of myself as being organised, efficient and purposeful.” His hands traced small circles on her back as he emphasized his organisation, efficiency and purpose.
Elizabeth’s legs wobbled under his ministrations, and she had to lean closer against him for support. He held her firmly and whispered in her ears, “Will you go out with me, Elizabeth? Please?”
When a hot, tall, dark-haired hunk crushed you to his body and begged you to go out with him, who could refuse? Elizabeth was sensible enough to reply with a tremulous, “Yes.”
The slow dance turned into non-stop hot dances, which then resulted in the two of them retiring to Darcy’s hotel room. Once inside, Darcy shed his shirt and pressed Elizabeth against the door. While he tackled the row of buttons down the front of her ‘nun’ dress with shaky hands, she pressed her lips all over his naked torso.
“Frustrating buttons!” he cried out.
She unzipped his trousers and palmed his raging arousal. “Riesigen Schwanz!” she panted breathlessly.
“Thanks for the compliment about my size, but I’m done battling with your troublesome buttons!” He abandoned them, grabbed her underpants and tore them off.
Elizabeth jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Darcy gasped for air as he pushed inside her wet entrance. She was sizzling hot and incredibly tight. It felt like he was encountering virgin territory, and he tried to slow his pace, both out of caution and to savour the experience. But she was impatient for him. Sucking his earlobe fervently, she ground her bottom against his balls, making him go wild.
With a loud howl, he started pounding into her in short, sharp thrusts. His huge shaft was stretching her muscles, heating them and grazing every nerve-ending along the way. Her body pulsed, convulsed, and reached its peak within minutes. He held on for another minute longer, feeling her body squeezing him hard, before having a mind-blowing climax of his own.
The next morning, when Elizabeth woke up to Darcy’s burning lips on her nipples, she asked groggily, “What was the third item on your list?”
But he traced his mouth down her navel and onward to her alluring sex, driving the question out of her mind.
Elizabeth stayed in Germany to pursue her singing career and her romance with Herr Darcy. Eating her own words, she was soon ‘saddled’ with Herr Darcy and his millions for the rest of her life.
But he didn’t answer her question until after they married a year later.
“The third item on my list was to ask you to marry me,” he confided with a smile, showing his dimples.
And, in response, Elizabeth’s knees wobbled again.
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