Enid Wilson - My Darcy Mutates…

“Witch Catherine de Bourgh.”

Elizabeth gaped. “Truly? Why?”

“I refused to marry her sickly daughter. I was hoping to marry for love.”

“You poor thing!” she exclaimed.

But he was not a poor thing at all. Elizabeth’s mouth still showed a tendency to hang open, for he was an exquisite specimen of a male human being. Around six feet five inches tall, he had broad shoulders, a hard six-pack, a pert butt and masculine legs, not to mention an extremely well-endowed manhood.

He also sported a beard and long hair. As he brushed the scales from his body, she couldn’t drag her gaze away from his naked form.

He stopped midway through brushing away the scales on his shaft when he caught her looking at him with sparkling eyes.

“You broke the curse when you kissed me and said that you loved me. I’m all yours from now on,” he said with a grin.

“All mine?”

“Yes. Your pet, your servant, your man-whore…and your husband, if you will have me.”

She was speechless but tempted. She licked her lips and gazed at him intensely.

Darcy took over decisively. Picking her up, he carried her to the bedroom. “I haven’t slept with a woman for two hundred years. I have a lot to catch up on, if you’re willing,” Darcy said, and with that he lowered his mouth and kissed her tenderly.

At the young age of twenty, Elizabeth had not yet slept with a man, so she was nervous. But she reminded herself that she had known him for half a year. She genuinely liked him, his arrogance, intelligence, sensitivity and all. Since he said he would be hers from now on, who was she to pass on such a chance to use him for a bit of fun?

She ran her fingers along his neck, then smoothed her palms over his shoulders and back, then down to his tightly muscled bottom. Occasionally, she still encountered a scale or two, tangible reminders to her that he had so recently been a dragon. But as Darcy trailed hot, wet kisses from her ear to her collarbone, and down to her breasts, she shivered with anticipation.

His tongue was magical. He licked and twirled around her aureole, first on one breast, then on the other, making them peak. Then his teeth gently pulled at the hardened nipples. She felt a mixture of pain and pleasure race down to the apex of her thighs.

She moaned aloud as he used his fingers to caress her nub and folds. When he pushed a finger into her core, then two, thrusting in and out, preparing her for what was to come later, she screamed to her climax within minutes.

He didn’t stop there. While her heart was still pumping fast, her inner muscles still pulsing, she felt him move lower to worship her sex with his mouth.

In an instant, she was burning again. She twisted and thrust her sensitised body to avoid his magical mouth but he held her hips to still her. His tongue lapped up her juice and pushed into her core. In between thrusts of his tongue, his lips nipped at her hidden bud, rubbing it to swollen ripeness.

Her moans became louder and louder until he drove her over the edge with his hard, clever tongue. Her body jerked up and down as the ecstasy of orgasm exploded in her body.

Only then did he slide his thick shaft into her, in a single mighty thrust. Her body was swimming in the afterglow of two climaxes, And she felt no pain at all when he broke through her barrier.

Knowing that he had stretched and strained her inner muscles, he held still, allowing her to grow used to the presence of his burning, throbbing rod within her, while his hands and mouth returned to tease and pleasure her lips and breasts.

When she began to pant and squirm hungrily again, he resumed his movements in her. He raised and lowered his body, slowly at first, coaxing until she reciprocated the same actions. He thrust and she squeezed. He withdrew and she raised her hips. Their intimate slow dance turned into quick steps very soon. He pounded into her, impaling her, with the eagerness of a thirsty man who has travelled across the desert without water and finally found the oasis. He drank in her scent, her juice and her essence with every frenetic thrust of his shaft.

But Darcy stopped as she neared the peak, and allowed her to slide back to a calmer plateau. Then he repeated the journey and brought her to the brink again. Her nails dug into his back as he lifted her up and down, raging through the valleys and mountains of sexual exploration again and again.

It felt as if the journey took ages. Elizabeth was at the sixth or seventh near-peak when she took control, tracing her fingertips along his spine and down into the crease of his butt, thus pushing him over the edge. She rode him, pulsing and shivering, and reached her peak at last.

They convulsed and vibrated in unison, crying aloud in ecstasy as he spilled his boiling seed into her, sealing their love.

Once Dragon Darcy was freed of the curse, there was no holding him back. He retained his intelligence and integrated into modern society with Elizabeth’s help. Elizabeth, in her turn, found that she didn’t want him to be her pet or servant. They soon married, and he joined the galaxy army, as well. Within two short years, husband and wife reached the rank of General together.

Lieutenant Colonel Caroline Bingley had tried to discover where Elizabeth met her magnificent husband. But she never uncovered the truth, beyond the simple fact that they had met during the galaxy Christmas bargain sales.

After several failed attempts to seduce Darcy, which resulted in her being humiliated by the silent treatment of the couple, she finally gave up. She lived alone, accompanied only by her pet dragon robot Wickham. She lamented, after all, that she had not really found so fine a bargain as had that annoying Eliza.

Looking through window at the pristine snow, Elizabeth Bennet gave a deep sigh. The tranquility of the natural scenery didn’t ease her mind. It was her fifth day of work at Pemberley Ski Resort, near Wilder Kaiser in Austria. She knew she shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t make herself to leave. After all, what was the chance of her meeting him ever again, even though this was one of his most famous business ventures?

She thought about their roller coaster “relationship”. Did we actually have a relationship? she asked herself.

William Darcy and she had met in a tennis class in Sydney. Staying there to oversee a business merger for a few months, he had taken time out in the evening, joining the local suburban tennis class. The facility and the coach, though not first class, seemed quite professional to Elizabeth.

But she overhead him talking to his friend, Charles Bingley, snickering at the sub-standard coach, the poorly maintained court and the hopeless fellow players – like herself. “She’s tolerable, I suppose,” he said, “but not good enough to play a mixed double with me.” Those had been his exact words. Who did he think he was? Rafael Nadal? Roger Federer?

To her utmost satisfaction, she’d had a great time showing him how good she was, playing a mixed double against him. Wickham and she demolished Caroline Bingley and the arrogant man in a 6-2, 6-1 win. Since then, Darcy had been glaring at her, eavesdropping on her conversations with others all the time.

Besides seeing each other in court, Charles was dating Elizabeth’s sister, Jane, and so Darcy and she saw each other frequently. She soon learned that his sneering attitude extended to her mother and younger sisters. He found them noisy, crude and vulgar.

Offended by his pompous manner, she took every opportunity to taunt and tease him. Busily triumphing over her success at goading him, she was utterly unprepared, one night soon after the match, for his sudden declaration of love and lust.

They were trying to recover a lost ball in the bushes besides the tennis court when he suddenly pressed her against a tree and kissed her senseless. His tongue and hands were like magic, setting her whole body on fire. Forgetting about his conceited behaviour, she responded passionately to his advances.

When they stopped for air, he declared himself to have been madly in love and in lust with her since their first meeting. He asked her back to his place to continue the “mutual groping”. At that, her wit returned, and she lashed out at his arrogance, conceit and haughtiness. She told him that he would be the last man she would shag, especially since learning about his involvement in persuading Bingley to dump Jane, and about his mistreatment of Wickham, his old friend.

In anger, she tried to leave, but he grabbed her arms, wanting to explain. She ended up shoving her knee against his balls, leaving him to cry in pain.

A few days later, however, it was she who was crying, for having misjudged him.

He retreated to London and sent her an email to explain everything: He had talked to Charles and found out what happened. He did ask his friend to cool down the fast romance and make sure of where his heart was. He didn’t know that Charles’s sister Caroline would spread vile lies, persuading Charles that Jane had moved on to a bigger fish.

He also explained his dealings with Wickham, who was involved in drugs, women and gambling. He even provided evidence of how Wickham had schemed money from Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, and broken her young and innocent heart.

A few weeks after Darcy’s explanation, Bingley had returned to Sydney and made up with Jane. Elizabeth also berated herself for listening to Wickham, a mere casual acquaintance she had met at the tennis club, over someone she had grown to know much better over more than a month’s time.