Mr. Darcy's Masterpiece: A Pride and Prejudice Variation by Caitlin Marie Carrington

Author:Caitlin Marie Carrington [Carrington, Caitlin Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Sequels, Naughty Bits (aka PWP), Not in Amazon Library, To Transfer
Amazon: B0BVGH41R2
Barnesnoble: B0BVGH41R2
Goodreads: 110463393
Publisher: Caitlin Marie Carrington
Published: 2023-02-10T05:00:00+00:00

Darcy

Elizabeth Darcy had twenty-seven freckles on the left side of her face.

“Hold still,” Darcy commanded.

Darcy refused to call them “spots,” as her mother did. He thought they were lovely. He thought they were a constellation of beauty, and he would kiss each and every one of them—

“But I’m cold—”

“You wanted bossy. Hold. Still.”

Darcy kept his face composed, despite wanting to laugh as Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. She obediently kept her face turned to the right, but her eyes found his across the room.

“…and I’m hungry,” she complained adorably. She tilted her head toward the tray that Chef had left them, near the fireplace. Darcy had turned his library into a temporary painting studio, and had ordered dinner and fine wine brought to them.

In the six months since they had been married, it seemed that every time Chef had given them a tray, they ended up engaging in other, far more pleasurable activities than eating. Poor Chef had developed something of a complex about it, really.

Elizabeth was eyeing her favorite foods, which Chef had surely sent to ensure they would not waste his genius tonight.

“Is that chocolate sauce?” she whispered, licking her lips.

Darcy felt himself begin to harden. He had thought that half a year with his young bride would have tempered his passions, but the opposite had happened. He had not grown tired of her. He had not grown bored. If anything, he fell more in love with her every day.

And thank God, his marriage was not like his parents’, or his cousin’s. Or the bloody Hursts’.

Elizabeth’s passion was equal to his. He would never forget how freely she had given herself to him on their wedding night—as freely as she chased her own pleasures. In the time since, she had only grown more bold in their bed play, and more eager to please.

Indeed, though she was fierce, independent, and gave her mind so freely for quite a young lady—as his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh had said disapprovingly—she loved it when Darcy became forceful and ordered her about in the bedchambers.

Or the carriages.

The phaeton, that one evening.

The library, often.

The fields outside Pemberley.

He glanced around…they were in his favorite place in the world now. The library at Pemberley, on a cool Autumn day. The fire was blazing, the sun was just beginning to set outside. They had all night to paint, and talk, and read, and…

“When I said you ought to do something with Georgiana in order to lift her spirits, never in a million years did I imagine you both would begin painting,” Elizabeth said.

“Dear heart, are you having trouble sitting still?” Darcy said.

She glanced up at him, blushing. Two nights ago he had spanked her, when she’d been particularly bratty. On purpose, of course. He never hurt her, but he had turned her sweet ass a beautiful shade of rose…

Rose. That’s what he needed more of, a lovely rose color to match her blush. Darcy tried to mix orange into the pinkish-golden color he’d created on his palette. Bloody hell.

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