The Demands of Mr. Darcy Read online

  The Demands of Mr. Darcy

  12 Story Bundle

  CHERA ZADE

  With

  Delaney Jane

  Includes

  MR. DARCY’S DARK DESIRES Books 1-3

  AS MR. DARCY COMMANDS Books 1-3

  DARING MR. DARCY Books 1-3

  A DECADENT DESCENT 1-3

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Training Mrs. Darcy

  Discipline for Mrs. Darcy

  Punishing Mrs. Darcy

  Tempted by Mr. Darcy

  Teased by Mr. Darcy

  Touched By Mr. Darcy

  Mr. Darcy’s Secret Service

  The Wanton Mr. Wickham

  An Unlikely Quartet

  A Suitable Punishment

  A Sordid Display

  Yes, Mistress Darcy

  Other Stories You Might Like

  Copyright © 2019, CHERA ZADE

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  About the Book

  Elizabeth can never get enough of Mr. Darcy, especially the sinister, sensual creature he becomes in the dark.

  And for those readers who can’t get enough of him, as well, here is an anthology of all TWELVE of Darcy’s darkest scenes.

  This 12 story bundle includes the steamy shorts –

  Training Mrs. Darcy

  Discipline for Mrs. Darcy

  Punishment for Mrs. Darcy

  Tempted by Mr. Darcy

  Teased by Mr. Darcy

  Touched by Mr. Darcy

  Mr. Darcy's Secret Service

  The Wanton Mr. Wickham

  An Unlikely Quartet

  A Suitable Punishment

  A Sordid Display

  Yes, Mistress Darcy

  All in one.

  These scenes are also found in the novels The Mistress of Pemberley and The Fallen Lady.

  And for lovers of The Secrets of Pemberley series, keep your eyes peeled for more, coming soon!

  Due to the very steamy nature of these scenes, this title is intended for mature audiences.

  Want more CHERA ZADE? Join my mailing list!

  TRAINING MRS. DARCY

  The wedding was ended. Jane and her beloved were off to enjoy their honeymoon together. The former Elizabeth Bennett, the newly crowned Mrs. Darcy was now lady of Pemberley, wife of Fitzwilliam, and nervous in a manner she’d never been before.

  Married. She was married to Mr. Darcy. She had a husband. She shared a bed with a man who made her knees weak.

  This was their wedding night. This was the night she would know the touch of a man for the first time. Not just any man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. The giant, brooding, stern browed Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth’s stomach was in knots.

  Yet despite their coming home to Pemberley for their wedding night, Darcy had yet to claim his wife. She was terrified and excited. What was in store?

  The wedding reception left her tired from dancing, full with drink and food, and now the quiet of Pemberley was a stark contrast to the celebration of that day. Elizabeth settled into the parlor. This was her home now, but she’d never seen the inside of Darcy’s apartments, never seen the bedroom she would share with him.

  She didn’t dare presume to go there without his invitation. Instead, she waited in the parlor as she would on any other afternoon before their wedding.

  Darcy had gone to tend to affairs of the household as they made their way in from the wedding. Elizabeth still wore her wedding gown and felt silly as she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the mantel.

  Goodness, Lizzie. Calm down, she thought.

  She pulled the veil off her head, setting it over the back of the settee and slumped down at the pianoforte. If she was to wait for her husband, she would make the best of the passing time. She’d yet to even bring her things from home, yet.

  Pemberley was quiet in a manner she’d never witnessed before. Elizabeth set her fingers to the keys and began to play, Beethoven. She was not as averse as some other accomplished girls, but when she focused, she could sound rather soothing in a quiet house. She pressed the keys with the faintest touch, letting the music whisper from the instrument. The sound seemed to echo perfectly in the quiet house.

  Elizabeth played the first three measures by heart before she noticed a change to the sound. Elizabeth glanced toward the door of the parlor and startled, the keys jamming beneath her fingers.

  “Fitzwillaim! You startled,” she said, scolding.

  He smiled. Her stomach dropped to her toes. He’d never smiled at her quite like that before. “Hello, my wife.”

  The tone was heavy with intention, and Elizabeth felt a strange pang between her legs. An almost ache that made her desperate to squeeze her legs tighter together.

  “Keep playing,” Darcy said, still standing in the doorway. His presence, and the sheer size of him, seemed to deaden the echo of the music.

  “I don’t want to disturb anyone,” Elizabeth said, nervous to have him listen.

  He smiled again. “I’ve sent everyone to bed or home. We have Pemberley to ourselves.

  Elizabeth swallowed. She thought of the corridors and long hallways, all quiet and empty. No one to hear her play. No one to hear anything at all.

  “Elizabeth. I said keep playing.”

  They were alone. A man and woman – husband and wife – without chaperone for the first time since they’d met. She looked up at her husband, a nervous tension building in her spine, and did as she was told. She picked up right where she left off, still playing as best she could from memory. Darcy took a step toward her, his massive shape moving in the corner of her eye. She fought to focus on what she was doing, still trying to keep her legs clutched together tight against the ache. A moment later, her husband stood just over her shoulder, his hand grazing her shoulder. Elizabeth shuddered at the touch.

  “I can’t begin to tell you how I’ve looked forward to this night,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “To finally have you, every part of you.”

  Elizabeth stumbled on the keys and stopped playing. “Fitzwilliam, you cad.”

  “I said keep playing.”

  She licked her lips, setting her brow a moment, then instead of protest played on.

  “Very good,” he said, and his hand moved over her collar, his fingers grazing at her collar bone. He ran his fingers over the bare skin of her throat, then moved them downward. Elizabeth gasped, stumbling on the keys again, but before she could speak, Darcy slid his hand down over the lace of her wedding gown and took hold of her breast, squeezing firmly. Elizabeth cried out, softly, her hands darting to take hold of his.

  He bent down behind her, coming to whisper in her ear. “Mrs. Darcy. If you stop playing again before I tell you to, you’re going to regret it.”

  Elizabeth turned to fight him, but his size alone dominated the room. Darcy appeared at her side, sitting facing the opposite direction on the piano bench with her. He shot a glance at the keys, then back to meet her eyes. He’d spoken without saying a word. Elizabeth felt her muscles tense all over. What did he mean by regret it? Would he strike her? He’d never raised a hand to her, or even raised his voice. Would he be a hard man as a husba
nd when he was such a gentleman in courting?

  She played on, her fingers tensing with nerves. Darcy leaned into her, his lips finding her ear and the crook of her jaw first, then the curve of her shoulder and neck. His lips were soft, but the touch felt like lightning traveling through her skin, down to the tips of her toes. She pressed her knees together again, fighting the rising heat between her legs.

  His hand found her breast again, and his fingers deftly played at the fabric there, teasing the mound beneath. Her nipple hardened at the touch and sent waves and pain through her sex. She fought not to lose her place in the piece, but her throat couldn’t contain the startled cry of pleasure.

  Darcy hummed softly to himself. “I cannot wait to get you out of this dress and see you properly.”

  Elizabeth felt her face flush.

  “Have you thought of this night, Elizabeth?”

  She blushed. Yes, she had. But how could she admit that to her husband. He’d think he a brazen trollop, wouldn’t he?

  “Because I have. Every night since the day we met. Thought of seeing the creamy white skin of your breasts. Thought of hearing the cries you’d make when I took you as my wife.”

  “Stop, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, barely able to form the words and keep her hands on the keys.

  “Stop?” He said. “Did you just give me an order, darling?”

  His hand squeezed her other breast, playing until this nipple hardened as well.

  She gasped, softly, but nodded. “Yes.”

  He chuckled, leaning in until his lips were touching her ear. “I’m the one who gives orders, my petal.”

  Suddenly, his hand was at her knees, tossing her skirts upward until her legs were bared to the open air. Without thinking, Elizabeth grabbed at her skirts, pulling them back down to protect her modesty.

  Darcy glared at her. “What did I say?”

  “I know, but for goodness sake! You can’t -”

  “Play until I tell you to stop, or you will regret it. Final warning. Am I understood?”

  Elizabeth felt his hand at her knee, pooling the fabric of her skirts up into his hand. Then as he met her gaze, slid his hand up beneath the skirts, his warm fingers grazing against her thigh.

  Elizabeth whimpered in fear and something else – excitement. She moved her hands back to the keys. They were shaking.

  She started a new song now, a minuet by Pezold. She was three notes in when Darcy’s hand slid upward, planting his whole palm against the smooth skin of her thigh, then pressing his hand down between her legs. His thumb was inches from her sex. She cried out his name, a pleading, frightened sound as she fought to continue playing.

  “Good girl,” he said, softly. “You play so beautifully.”

  He pressed his lips to her ear, whispering there as she fought to tighten her legs against his touch.

  It was no use. A moment later, Darcy pushed his hand up fully, and his fingers found her sex. She gasped and squealed in near protest, almost standing up as she fought to pull away from his touch, but he held her there, his hand rubbing her aching sex, his other arm gripping her around the waist, holding her against him.

  He rubbed softly, cooing in her ear. “I can feel how wet you are through your petticoats,” he whispered.

  Elizabeth gasped, her face burning. She whined softly, feeling as though she should fight this sensation, but his fingers pressed firmly to her, rubbing with such firm intention. The ache in her sex was growing almost too intense to bare.

  “Keep playing, my darling,” he whispered.

  Every sixth key was delayed or wrong, but Elizabeth did as she was told, Darcy’s hold on her growing tighter with each passing moment. His breathing seemed to change, growing hoarser, faster, and he hummed and groaned his approval each time she cried out.

  Suddenly, he reached further beneath her skirts, finding the waist of her petticoats and slipping his hand beneath. The warmth of his fingers found her sex anew, and he slipped his fingers into the wetness there, touching the most sensitive part of her with relish in his eyes. Elizabeth buckled from the sensation, her fingers losing their place on the keys completely. She reached down to grab his hand through the fabric of her skirts, clutching his shoulder with the other hand as though holding onto him for strength.

  “You stopped playing, darling,” he said, grinning.

  “I’m sorry!” She cried, the words descending into an almost primal sound. “I can’t.”

  “That’s disappointing,” he said, pulling her backward. “You leave me no choice, then.”

  “Please!” Elizabeth said, her stomach shooting into her throat with fear of what he might do.

  Elizabeth’s legs buckled, desperately trying to pull her knees together as Darcy slid his fingers further downward, then plunged them into her. Her sex was slippery and aching as his fingers violated her there. Elizabeth screamed, forgetting the expanse of Pemberley around them.

  “Fitzwilliam!” She cried.

  Yet his fingers plunged deeper. Over and over again, a subtle sound of his hand slamming into her with each probe of his fingers. She clung to him as he fingered deeper and faster, watching her face closely as he forced her to take him.

  “You like it, don’t you?” He said, glaring down into her face. Elizabeth’s mouth fell open, but she couldn’t speak. “You love it. Well, my darling. You’ve no idea what’s in store for you.”

  Suddenly, he was up, towering over her on the piano bench. Her sex ached now with a need she’d never felt before. Darcy stood behind her, his fingers making quick work of untying her wedding dress. A moment later, the garment fell loose around her shoulders, leaving her in her petticoats and shift. He plunged his hands down beneath the shift and took hold of her breasts, kneading them roughly.

  “This is what happens when you disobey me, my love. I take you as I please. Do you understand?”

  Elizabeth tried to make a sound, but could only lean back against him. Suddenly, she stiffened, startled by the hard shape beneath the fabric of his trousers.

  He chuckled to see her response. “That’s what’s in store for you, Lizzie. I’m going to use every inch of you to please me. I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

  He grabbed her face by the jaw and turned her up to him, then he kissed her deeply, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She cried out at the sensation, aching for him to slide his fingers inside her again. That moment of penetration was the only thing to soothe the pain between her legs, but somehow, as soon as he took them away, the pain returned with triple the force. She needed him. She feared him, feared what he would do, but needed him all the same.

  “Do you want me, too?” He asked.

  Her face flushed. She nodded, averting her eyes.

  “Tell me,” he demanded.

  Elizabeth swallowed. “I need you.”

  With that, Darcy grabbed her, pulling her up to her feet as her dress fell to the floor. She felt exposed, standing there in only her petticoats. Then a moment later, he ripped her petticoats off, leaving her standing there at the piano, naked.

  Darcy pulled the piano bench aside and pushed her toward the keys.

  She stood there naked and exposed as Darcy pulled the bench up behind her and sat down.

  He grabbed her by the hips and turned her toward the keys, roughly. “Play until I tell you to stop.”

  Elizabeth stared at him in desperation, a look she prayed conveyed her thoughts.

  What are you doing to me?

  “Are you defying me?” He asked, as though daring her.

  “No!” She said, terrified of what he’d do were she to say yes.

  “Good,” he said, his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh. “Lean forward and play, and don’t stop until I damn well tell you to, do you understand?”

  “What will you do to me if I do?” She asked, almost fearing the answer.

  “Do you want to find out?” He demanded, and the tone was terrifying.

  “No! No,” she said, and swiftly found
the keys to play a new piece. An easy piece – Fur Elise by Beethoven.

  He hummed with approval at the music choice, then without pause, he slid his hand up between her legs, kicking her ankles aside to open her to him. His fingers slid up inside her again, this time three at a time. She felt her body strain against the sudden entry, and cried out in almost pain. He plunged them deep, nothing hindering him now. She fought to keep her hands on the keys as his fingers slammed up into her over and over, his knuckles pounding into her thigh and the lips of her sex as he pushed as deeply as he could. She felt her body stretch to take him, her sex growing hot as the knuckle of his pinky fingers slammed over and over into the most sensitive spot. She cried out, fighting to find the right keys, her knees growing weak, and her thighs trembling.

  Suddenly, Darcy pushed the bench further back, yanking her by the hips until she was forced to fully bend over to reach the keys.

  “Fitzwilliam, I can’t - Oh god!” She screamed as Darcy sat down onto the bench, slammed his fingers up into her, and planted his face into her ass. Elizabeth’s hands slammed onto the keys, completely losing the music as she tried to pull away. This wasn’t how a man was to behave! What was he doing to her? And oh god, what kind of woman was she to enjoy it?

  “Please!” She cried, still trying to pull away.

  The sound splintered the parlor as Darcy’s huge hand smacked her ass with the force of a tyrant.

  She gasped, unable to scream. The sensation had stung like nothing she’d ever felt before, and the shock of it left her speechless.

  “Did I tell you to stop playing?” He demanded, his hand still planted on her ass, the sting of his touch emanating out in burning waves. Elizabeth’s eyes began to water as she shook her head.