The Taste of Strawberries
A short story by Lynne Connolly

The beautiful illustration is courtesy of Elaine Corvidae

This is a story I wrote after eating strawberries. It has no relation to anything else I have written, but was great fun to do. Please feel free to download the story for your own pleasure, but if you want to reproduce it elsewhere, let me know first.

Please note that the following story contains material of an adult nature, and may not be suitable for people under 18 years old. Please click the relevant link to either return to the homepage, or carry on. If you continue, this signifies your acceptance of the conditions. I am under 18 - please return me to Lynne Connolly's homepage.

Elizabeth went into the dining room and ruefully surveyed the mess her guests had left behind. Bending, she picked up a glass, which had fallen, unbroken, to the floor. She put it down on the sideboard with the others.

"Leave it. The servants will do that."

Startled, she spun round to see her husband enter the room. She smoothed the skirts of her red velvet gown with a nervous hand. "I thought you'd gone to bed."

"I thought you had."

There was an awkward silence. She tried a tentative smile. "I'm not sleepy," she told him. "I decided to have a night cap."

"Strangely, considering it's nearly two, neither am I," he replied. "May I join you?"

Nodding her assent, she pulled back one of the chairs and sat down on it, pushing her hand wearily into the mass of dark hair coiled at her nape. Her hairpins were scratching, and she was sure one had drawn blood; she would have loved to take it down, but her husband would not like it. He had a horror of informality.

"I'm afraid the wine has all been drunk," he said.

She turned her head to look at him, noting the strong figure, the dark good looks, only emphasised by the close fit of his coat, the line of his knee breeches. How she wished-- But she wasn"t sure what to wish for. Her virtue was if not intact, only very lightly breached, and she had no way of knowing what it was she wanted. She sighed. "What is there?"

"Brandy, port."

"Then if you don't object, I"d like a brandy."

Silently he poured her a drink, and when he handed it to her, she smiled her thanks. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat. "Are you happy, my dear?" he asked.

Such an unexpected question deserved deliberation. She sipped at the generous measure he had poured for her before answering. "Yes, sir, I think so."

"You think so?" He sounded disappointed.

"That is, of course I am," she amended hastily.

He nodded and sipped at his own drink.

There were remnants of the dessert on the table, the bright colours of strawberries, apricots, and grapes, reflected by the highly polished mahogany surface. Elizabeth reached across and took a large, red strawberry from the heap still left in the crystal centrepiece. Pausing, she dipped it in the jug of cream by its side and brought it to her mouth. Her white teeth bit through it. A tiny amount of juice trickled down her chin and she picked up a napkin to wipe away its traces. "I've always been fond of strawberries."

She glanced up to see him watching her. There was an intent look on his face she couldn't remember seeing there before.

"I know. I try to make sure they're available."

She chose another. Her face took on an expression of sheer enjoyment as the fresh juice filled her mouth. When she glanced across, her husband still watched her. He picked up one of the sweet fruits himself while she finished her drink. Summer fruit, always the best, bursting with flavour.

Elizabeth stood and put down her empty glass. The click echoed around the quiet room. "I should go. My maid will be waiting."

"Then kiss me goodnight, sweet wife."

When she held her face up for his chaste salute, she was surprised to find herself taken in his arms and thoroughly kissed. He hadn't kissed her like that since their wedding day six months before. He tasted of brandy, but then she did, too. Perhaps that was what had disordered his equilibrium so much. Whatever it was, she decided she liked it. Putting her arms around him, she returned the kiss with interest.

"I can bear this no longer," he murmured, his mouth now next to her ear. He drew back and looked at her face. Startled by his words, she waited for him to explain.

"I have such regard for you, Elizabeth, that I've not imposed myself on you. I've tried to be gentle, to treat you with respect." He paused. "But I can no longer watch you day after day, wondering when you will come to me, give yourself to me completely. May I love you, Elizabeth, may I show you how to love?"

Elizabeth was afraid, but not without spirit. "Yes," she replied. Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

He drew back a little so he could see her lovely face. "You can't deny I've been patient."

He smiled, and the smile transformed his stern, haughty features into warmth. She smiled back, a little shyly. "Yes, sir, you have," she said. "Shall we go upstairs?"

She moved, as though to leave the room, but he didn''t release her. "Not yet. Our marital bed seems to have been the scene of singular disaster. Stay here."

"But where?" She looked around helplessly.

"We"ll improvise," he murmured. He bent his head to kiss her again.

Her hand moved up to the back of his head; she threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair. His hand moved lower, caressed her body, cupped a breast through the soft velvet of her gown. She stiffened in surprise, but seduced by the kiss, allowed him to caress her more intimately than he was wont to do. She felt her nipple harden against the fabric. It seemed he felt it too, for he lifted his hand over her décolletage and slipped it inside. The diamond brooch, which held the crossover bodice together, fell away, giving him the freedom to bend his head and kiss the top of her breast.

"Sir?" she said. Her voice quavered, despite her efforts to keep it steady.

"Sweet," he murmured, his lips against her skin. He lifted her full, ripe breast to his mouth, curled his tongue around the nipple. It made her flesh tingle. She watched him suckle, mesmerised by this new sensation, waiting to see what he might do next and what she could do to reciprocate. She still held on to him, but he pulled his head away and looked at her. "How I've held back for six months I cannot imagine."

She smiled back, but her lips trembled. Elizabeth trusted her husband, but this was something her voluble mother had never told her about, this warmth spreading from her thighs over her body when he caressed her again.

Suddenly, he pulled away and dragged off his coat, letting it fall where it would. He reached behind Elizabeth, swept the debris of dessert to one side with a careless arm, and lifted her so she sat on the edge of the table. Smiling, he took her in his arms again and returned to her mouth, kissing her, plunging his tongue inside the soft, damp depths. Elizabeth responded with a moan.

Throwing her arms around him, she caressed his back, feeling the hard muscle under his clothes. She felt his fingers at the fastenings of her gown, but eventually he was forced to concede defeat. "Damnation!" he said, and lifted her off the table. He turned her so her back was to him. Before she realised what he was doing, he seized the scissors from their place by the fat, succulent hothouse grapes and used them to cut the laces on her gown and her stays. They fell away, unneeded, and Elizabeth was left in only her thin chemise.

Turning back to him, she undid the buttons on his waistcoat and looked up to see his tender smile. She could tug his shirt free from his breeches now, put her hands on his body, press herself against him, and feel him, skin to skin, for the first time. It had always been nightgowns before.

He threw back his head and gasped, "Oh my love!" before he returned to pull her chemise over her head, leaving her naked except for her stockings and the gold pendant she wore around her neck. While he rid himself of his shirt and unbuttoned his breeches, he looked at her, waiting for him. She smiled, and said, "You look wonderful." A pink flush of desire suffused her face and body.

He lifted her again so she was sitting on the edge of the table, and put his hand between her legs, urging them apart. Then he stood back for a moment, but when she tried to put her legs together again, he put a gentle hand on her knee. "No, let me look. You"ve denied me this pleasure too long." And then, after a moment, "Oh sweet Heaven!"

Elizabeth was forced to throw her arms behind her to keep her balance as he tongued her, slowly exploring her. He brought new sensations to her when he sucked at that peak of flesh she"d not known existed before. She gasped, cried aloud, found herself eagerly pushing her body towards him. Physical love controlled her for the first time in her life.

He could wait no longer. Getting to his feet, he entered her. He slid inside, no resistance. Her arms went about his shoulders and she pulled him to her fiercely. Gentlemanly behaviour forgotten, he drove into her, holding her hips to keep her steady. She closed her eyes and savoured the sensation of him inside her, moving in her, filling her up over and over again.

Pulling her close to him, he said, "Elizabeth, my darling, my wife--look at me!"

She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw the expression in his. This was what she had missed; this was what they should have done on their wedding night instead of that gentle, careful deflowering. She lifted her legs, hooked them around him, and pulled him into her. He helped her lie down on the table, so she could pull harder. Gasping, crying out his name in rapture, "Oh, Fitz my love, never stop, never stop!"

She heard him answer her and felt the waves of warmth build up to an almost unbearable level. Her cries became wordless, but he seemed to understand, driving her to her first orgasm since their marriage began.

"My darling, I"ll never stop loving you, never stop needing you." He was relentless, pushed deep inside her, touched and caressed her body with his hands as though he would never get enough of her. She felt herself climb higher still, and cried out once more.

Flinging out an arm, she caught the delicate crystal centrepiece and sent it crashing to the floor on the far side of the table. Strawberries, cherries, and golden apricots rolled and bounced over her. Fitz looked at them and laughed out loud. He picked up a luscious, ripe strawberry. Putting it into his mouth, he crushed it with his teeth, then bent to kiss her, sharing the sweet, fresh juice with her. She felt his tongue in her mouth, probing, exploring, as he was doing below, and swallowed the remains of the fruit, then pushed her tongue into his mouth, touching her tongue to his, the sharp taste still lingering there, with something else.

Laughing, he broke away and picked up a handful of strawberries, crushed them in his hand, and let the juice run over her body. She joined in the laughter and reached for him.

It was then that the door opened, but neither looked to see who it was. They were past caring. A feminine gasp informed Elizabeth it was her maid, but she didn't look, and the door closed again.

Still inside her, he looked at her, smiling. "So much for my consequence," he said.

"Why, Mr. Darcy," she murmured wickedly. "I do believe you're blushing!"