Enid Wilson - My Darcy Mutates…

Tomorrow would be Valentine’s Day. Could this be a Valentine’s card from his present girl friend? Did he have a lover now? Why had it been sent here?

Elizabeth racked her brain, thinking hard. She had been feasting on gossip magazines since she arrived, but she hadn’t seen any recent photos of him with any women.

“Private, but not personal. I’m the secretary here…” she murmured. Curiosity was killing her. After a few minutes of deliberation, she decided to open the card.

It was a cheap, bland Valentine’s card with a red heart on the front. Inside were a few short sentences of nearly illegible writing, marred with many blots:

My dear Darce,

I t’s time of the y ear. Get your 3 inches out and s hag

some girls wit less.

Ig ore their comp ains and en joy yourself!

Your best friend

B

“Shit!” Elizabeth dropped the card and swore, “What did Bingley tell him to do?” She picked up the card and read it again, with growing indignation. “Get your 3 inches out and shag some girls witless? Ignore their complaints and enjoy yourself? What sort of best friend is Bingley? Should I tell Jane about it? Why would any girl want to complain if Darcy shags her? I certainly wouldn’t complain. The man is scorching hot! But hang on! 3 inches! What does he mean, 3 inches? How many centimetres is that?”

Elizabeth scratched her head and wished she had done better in class with mathematics. She hated the imperial system. Luckily, Google was right in front of her. She typed in “length converter” and clicked on the first website.

Three inches = 7.62 centimetres.

She looked at the ruler on her desk, right in front of her eyes. Surely that couldn’t be! Such a hot guy couldn’t be so badly endowed. He was tall, and his hands and feet were big. His shoulders were broad, his biceps strong. She thought back to their tennis lessons. He usually wore loose sport trousers, so there was no way she could tell about…other measurements. Anyway, she had not ogled him. Well…that wasn’t entirely true. She might have ogled him a little bit – his legs and torso. But not there!

I understand why you found me lacking...

She thought back to what he had written in his email. Could it be true? “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Darcy!” she whispered in sympathy.

“What are you sorry about, Elizabeth?” asked a deep voice from behind her, making her jump.

Elizabeth shoved the card into the pocket of her jeans, turned and saw Darcy’s big frame silhouetted in the doorway. He was encased in a thickly layered ski suit, but she could still see his muscular physique, handsome face and soulful eyes.

“I…,” She gasped, then gathered her courage and gave him a bright smile. “I didn’t find you lacking. Will you give me a second chance? You know…for the mutual …groping.”

His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. Taking her hand, he led her out of the office to his room, at the far end of the resort.

While they walked hand in hand, she vowed to show him her love and to make certain that he enjoyed himself, despite of his deficiency.

He led her into his room, pressing her against the door the moment they were inside, not sparing any time to switch on the light. He gave her a sizzling hot kiss, nipping at her upper lip and then thrusting his tongue against hers. It traced an erotic path along her inner muscles, making her blood flow rapidly through her body and pool at her apex.

On and on, he caressed her mouth, pouring his longing from the past few months into the kiss.

His cold hands tore at the buttons on her blouse and her front-clipped bra, winning access to her sumptuous breasts. As his fingers puckered her nipples into hard peaks, his tongue drove even more deeply into her mouth. She felt nearly choked by his violent action.

Grasping his shoulders, she dug her fingers into his back. As if sensing her vulnerability, he slowed the tempo. His hands began to shape, palm, knead and fondle her twin peaks tenderly, while his tongue made love to her mouth slowly.

The fluid of arousal flowed through her, and she felt herself reaching the peak. Shivered violently, she climaxed, still standing with her back to the door. As her legs weakened, she nearly collapsed onto the floor.

Breaking from the kiss, he picked her up and placed her on his bed. His mouth moved quickly, drawing an alluring path from her lips down her throat, then between her deep cleavage and on to her navel.

Then his hands made quick work of her jeans, taking them and the panties off in one go. He marveled at her lush body in front of his eyes. Parting her legs, he lowered his mouth and slid his tongue along her folds, while his thumb rubbed her bud.

Her body bucked under his ministrations, but his strong hands shifted to hold her hips on the bed. With his forceful tongue, he thrust into her wet entrance, invading her hot inner core. She squirmed and moaned aloud, begging him to relieve her suffering.

He was merciless in his attack. He suckled her bud and thrust his tongue in and out, on and on until she screamed out in abandon, reaching her second orgasm.

In its aftermath, Elizabeth was in a haze as she noticed him stripping off his thick ski suit. Before she could see his body properly, he settled between her parted legs. She wrapped her hands around his neck, gazed at him and said, with a firm voice, “William, I love you, no matter what. Make me yours.”

He returned her gaze and replied, “I love you, too, Elizabeth.” Then he nudged her legs even further apart and thrust into her.

OMG, he was so big and thick! She nearly blurted out the words.

Even though she was fully aroused and wet to the core, she found her muscles stretched to the limited. She panted heavily as he pushed more and more into her. Every cell in her body was torched by his hot, hard shaft. His hands moved to her breasts again, squeezing them hard as she panted in response.

She instinctively raised her body and wrapped her legs around his waist to accommodate his invasion. With a sudden swift thrust of his body, he pushed right to the hilt, grazing the entrance to her womb with his tip.

Elizabeth’s eyes rolled back, and she believed she was in heaven again. Then he began to move. He pulled away, right to her entrance, then rammed into her hard, pounded into her again and again. The sound from the encounter of their sweaty bodies, their moans and their cries, created a kind of sexually charged music in the room. To her astonishment, she realized that she could reach that higher paradise again. After endless minutes of ardent thrusting, he finally drove into her with such a mighty surge that his tip fitted itself against her very core. At that, she cried out in ecstasy and reached her third peak, trembling and convulsing on and on, until she squeezed him so hard with her inner muscles that he shouted out in bliss. He shivered, poured his essence into her and collapsed on top of her.

When they finally returned to earth, he rolled away from her, then pulled her to lie on top of him. He switched on the bedside lamp, wanting to devour her lovely body with his eyes.

Her eyelids felt heavy but her gaze suddenly snagged on the sight of her jeans on the floor…and the pink envelop spilling out of the pocket.

Bewildered, she raised her head, took a look at his relaxed body, and asked him in wonder, “William, why did Charles send you a Valentine’s card?”

He looked at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“He said you only had 3 inches! But you’re huge!” Then, embarrassed at discussing his size, she blushed and covered her cheeks with her hand.

“Oh. That,” Darcy said as understanding dawned on him.

“I felt sorry for your...” Words failed her, and she raised her little finger to show him what she meant.

“You asked me to make love to you because you felt sorry about my …?”

“No. I would have made love to you, no matter what. I love you.” She lowered her head and kissed away his concerns.

When they stopped for air, he said, “The card wasn’t from Bingley. It was Billy who wrote it.”

“My cousin Mr. Collins? Why would he send you such a strange card?”

“I knew him in my teens. One year, he came to the Hunsford camp with my aunt. It was around Valentine’s Day. He made out with a girl, one night. The next day, when we were both in the toilet, we overheard the girl outside, laughing about his size with some of her friends.”

“Oh dear.”

“Oh dear, indeed. He took a look at me and burst into tears, lamenting his small size. I comforted him, telling him that size didn’t truly matter. I assured him that he would find someone who loved him for what he was. Since then, he has counted me as his best friend. He sends me a Valentine’s card every year. He said we should encourage each other, in such a lonely time.”

Elizabeth frowned. “But he said ‘take your 3 inches out and shag some girls witless.’ He was joking?”

Darcy’s face turned bright red. “He said, back then, that I looked to be 9 inches. But you’ve seen his writing. He must have blotted the 9 into looking like a 3. I’ve received similar cards from him, in the past, each messier than the last.”

“9 inches? That’s nearly 23 centimetres,” she murmured, and glanced at his lower body.

Their talk had clearly aroused him, for his manhood was standing tall and proud. Elizabeth stretched her small hand out, as if to measure it.

Darcy would have none of that and smacked her hand away. “If you want to measure it, I know a much better method.”

Rolled her onto her back, he thrust inside her again.

And that is how they came to spend the night and all of Valentine’s Day measuring and discussing the relative merits of the metric system.

Elizabeth Bennet slowly awoke to the sound of a phone ringing, the caress of a man’s strong hands on her breasts, and his growing hardness pressing importunately against her bottom.

One of his hands left her momentarily.

“Yes…No…Yes…Hmm…Ok…Bye.” The sound of the man answering the call roused her from her lingering stupor, for it sounded like…Mr. Darcy!

She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead.

“Shit!” she swore under her breath, for what she saw was his office.

She lowered her glance as his tan, dark-haired arm settled back on her white breasts again.

From the waist up, she was without a stitch of clothing. And his big, hot hands were slowly rubbing and pinching her nipples.

She sucked in a deep breath and squirmed, then swore, “Shit,” again as she felt his firm arousal prod her butt cheeks. She was completely naked, without anything covering the lower part of her body, either.

How did I get here? she wondered wildly.

The decorations in his office reminded her that it was Christmas. Events and images flashed through her mind: Caroline Bingley, the Human Resources dragon, laughing behind her back, the day before. The orange woman had snickered at her, saying that Elizabeth was a prim and proper tomboy who wore a buttoned-up shirt, trousers and short hair, a boring, fat lad who didn’t know how to have fun with men.

After that, Elizabeth had shopped for the most alluring and feminine frock she could find, to shock the acid-tongue woman at the office Christmas party. With a constant supply of wine and champagne to bolster her courage, she had flirted and laughed with nearly every man in the company.

She remembered that her big boss hadn’t seemed to like her new behaviour. When she saw Mr. Darcy withdraw from the festivities with a frown, she followed him into his office, determined to make her serious boss have some fun.

Actually, she had done a lot more than that. She remembered, after a bit of happy banter, how she had pushed him down to sit rigidly on the chesterfield couch, feeding him sips of bubbly from her own mouth until…

“Elizabeth, my love,” Mr. Darcy murmured, close to her ear. His deep, velvety voice made her shiver. Then his tongue stroked her earlobe, before nipping and sucking on it.