Page 51 of An Earl Unmasked
Diana moved forward, and before he realized what she was about, she had positioned herself over his manhood. Faced away from him, he ran his palms over her sides and then around to cup her breasts. She was rubbing the tip of him along her slit, occasionally pressing against her sensitive mound.
He needed to be sheathed by her.
Randal stopped fondling her breasts and gripped his manhood in one hand. He positioned himself at her center and jerked his hips forward. She leaned slightly back, and Diana took more of him. He dug his fingers into her hips as she wiggled. Her attempts to accommodate more of him only made him more excited.
“Love, this might hurt a little.” Randal guided her hips in a circular motion while simultaneously thrusting his hips further. Diana’s breathing quickened, and then she clamped a hand over her mouth as she let out a half-scream, half-moan.
Randal stilled. “Are you in pain?”
Diana shook her head. “No.” She began to lift and lower herself. Finding her rhythm, Diana’s movements became less jerky and more confident.
His hands made their way back to her breasts, and he pinched her nipples as he found his release. Diana let out a scream that made him smile with deep satisfaction.
Sated, Randal sat up and pulled Diana against his chest. The back of her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. Randal murmured, “Bed sport is exhausting.” He held her tight as he lowered them to the bed and onto their sides.
Diana yawned. “It was nothing like what Lady Barlington or any of the Malbury maids have described.”
“Shall we do it again tomorrow?” Randal’s eyes danced with mischief.
She rewarded him a brilliant smile, though she appeared sleepy. As her eyes finally closed, Diana snuggled deeper against him. “Hmm…I think that is a grand idea.”
Randal closed his eyes, too. His dreams were filled with all the possibilities of how to ensure Diana would never have cause to refer to their time behind the Chestwick master chamber door as a dead bore.
Epilogue
Tangled in thebed linens, Diana rolled to stare up at the velvet canopy. She was physically exhausted. Her husband’s attentions hadn’t waned, even after three months of marriage. Instead of growing tired of her company, he seemed to only demand more of her attention both in and out of bed. They spent every eve in her chambers. And each night, he remained. Diana smiled. Randal never spoke without intention, and last night, he had referred to the bedroom as‘our chambers’accompanied by a rare lopsided grin.
Merely recalling the incident made her giddy. Every day Diana discovered a little more of Randal’s past and the events that shaped his persona. She’d come to realize it may take her a lifetime to fully discover the man she had married. He was like her own personal puzzle.
Randal shifted and raised up on his elbow and nuzzled his nose against her ear. “I have failed.”
“How so?” She turned to face the man that had intermittently kept her awake during the night.
“To banish all thoughts from your mind and have you slumber.” He pushed back a tendril of hair behind her ear. “What is the matter?”
Randal didn’t need to know it was he who preoccupied her thoughts. “I was… I was thinking this shall be the first time I shall not be within a day’s ride of my sisters.”
He trailed a finger along her jawline and then tipped her face up to his. “Did you wish to accompany them to Lord Avondale’s house party?”
“Was that an option? Were we invited?” Her questions brought her husband’s lips within an inch of hers.
“No. But if it would make you happy, I shall make arrangements.”
She leaned forward and gave her thoughtful husband a kiss. Before he could distract her, she pulled back and asked, “How do you suppose my family received an invite? Drake and Cunningham made no mention of receiving an invitation, and Drake is friends with everyone.” As she vocalized the question, the skin on the back of her neck prickled. “Hmm… how would His Grace know any of my siblings?” The bed sheet fell to her waist as she bolted to sit up straight. “Isadora.” She scrambled off the bed and donned her robe. Minerva repeatedly scolded her for not logically evaluating situations and coming to hasty conclusions. Diana swiveled on her heel and faced the bed.
Her husband was resting against the headboard. “Did I not share with you that Drake had, in fact, attempted to secure an invite as soon as he learned of your sisters’ plans to attend.”
Randal’s bare chest tempted her to crawl back into bed. She blinked twice to refocus on the topic. “He ‘attempted’? Does that mean he was denied?”
“Aye.”
“Blast. Then there shall be no one close to protect my sisters.”
“Do you really believe they need protection? I made inquiries. Duke Avondale’s set are mostly titled gentlemen…”
Diana couldn’t resist any longer. She hopped back into bed and straddled her husband, resting her palms on his chest. “Love, you’ve spent too much time abroad. Those men may hold titles and on occasion be referred to as gentlemen, but they are also all notorious rakes and gamblers, and the Duke of Avondale is their leader.”
“Then why on earth would your papa and Kent allow your mama and sisters to attend?”
