Page 100 of My Wicked Earl
Her gloved hands ran over the cushions of the couch as she pushed her bottom towards Colin.
Colin leaned over and murmured roughly. “Grab the arm and spread open your legs. Christ, you’ve a lovely ass.”
There were many wonderful things about being married to Colin, the least of which was that her husband’s fertile imagination was useful not only for his writing. Colin, Miranda thought as she grabbed the arm of the couch and listened to her husband undo his trousers, was quite creative when it came to marital relations. Or possibly the word was adventurous.
“Do you think all husbands and wives are so daring? I’m asking because I do wonder about Lady Hemley and her husband. They’re newly married and. . .” The movement of Colin’s fingers was rapidly cutting off all coherent thought.
“Hemley is an idiot. I doubt he knows what to do. But I do. Good thing,” his finger slid into her as she whimpered and pushed back in response “that I had no knowledge you’d neglected your underthings else we never would have made it through the first dance.”
“It was a small oversight,” she panted. “Please, Colin.”
“You’re very wet, Miranda.”
Miranda gasped as Colin thrust into her, pushing her forward across the arm of the couch. She could already feel the climax building inside of her, painfully urgent and intense. So far in the last fortnight, they’d made love in the Cambourne gardens, in a carriage moving slowly through Hyde Park on Rotten Row, in the kitchen at their recently purchased townhouse after the servants had gone to bed and discreetly against the wall in a darkened alcove during the opera.
Colin put one hand on the back of her neck, his strokes long and even. His breathing was ragged and choppy. She could feel her body tightening around his.
“Harder, Colin,” she begged. “Please.”
The couch squeaked in protest as he moved in and out, pausing only to kiss the place beneath her left ear.
Miranda pushed back her hips and Colin’s fingers found her, stroking her until she forgot where they were, her body focused only on the mounting pleasure. The world held and shattered as Miranda cried out her release into the couch, hoping to muffle the sound.
Colin thrust twice more, and with a quiet groan, found his own release, before he collapsed to lay his head against her back.
“Jesus, you’ll be the death of me, Miranda.”
“You’ll die happy,” she replied tartly.
A quarter of an hour later, they stood outside the door of the sitting room. Colin smoothed her skirts and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “You’re all pink, a sure sign you’ve been tumbled.” He looked toward the ballroom. “I suppose we have to return,” he said regretfully, pressing his lips to hers. “Though I would rather not.”
Miranda concurred. She and Colin were much happier in the cozy library of their town house. She would curl up on the sofa to read, while he scratched away at the latest escapade of Lord Thurston.
It was the Dowager who insisted on a ball to celebrate the wedding of the Earl of Kilmaire to her granddaughter.
“Don’t be angry at Grandmother. We did cheat her out of a grand wedding. First Sutton married in scandal, and then myself.” She reached up and smoothed his cravat. “You look a bit pink yourself, Lord Kilmaire,” she gave him a saucy smile.
“Wicked little thing.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Very well. Lead me back to the den of lions.”
“I do wish Nick and his duchess could have been here.” His voice lowered else he’d be overheard as they entered the ballroom. “Though Nick assures us that Jemma is well, I know he is worried over the child. At least he has released Arabella from her banishment in Wales. I expected to see her dour, frowning face this evening.”
Miranda swatted his forearm. “She’s not dour.”
“She always appears as if she were sucking on a lemon.”
“Perhaps she didn’t welcome the news of our marriage. Nick assured me that he’d given her permission to leave Wales and come back to London.” Miranda shook her head sadly. “I hoped she’d be happy for me.”
“Wales is a long way off, my love. Quite possibly she’s run into poor weather and will surprise you at any time. I’m sure she wouldn’t miss such an event intentionally.”
“I suppose not.” Miranda wasn’t so sure. At times, Arabella could be difficult.
They wound their way back to Sutton, Alex, and the Dowager Marchioness, who was holding court over the room.
Sutton was scowling as he took in Miranda’s color, but wisely said nothing.
Overprotective, Miranda mused.
Her brother was still coming to terms with her marriage to Colin and all that preceded it, but his relationship with Colin was slowly repairing itself.
