Page 91 of My Wicked Earl
One big hand cupped her behind, pulling her up against the solid length of him.
The back of her legs bumped against the side of the bed. Her fingers flew to his shoulders, trying to push off the coat he wore.
He broke the kiss, his breathing heavy and ragged against her ear. “Wait.” Then he gave a sigh of resignation. “I can’t help myself around you. I never could. I meant for us to speak first.” The cool patrician accent he usually affected had completely disappeared, and Miranda allowed the Irish lilt to wash over her already aroused body.
“Forgive me.” He brushed his lips against hers slowly, dragging out the sensation until she reached for him again.
“No,” he caught her hands and drew them down to her sides. “I’ve waited what feels like a lifetime.”
The robe fell from her shoulders, sliding down her already heated skin in a sensual caress to pool at her feet.
Miranda stood naked before him, her nipples peeking through the dark locks of her hair. Immediately, she put a protective hand over the small bump of her stomach, wishing she could hide her thighs as well.
He raised a brow in question, the chocolate of his eyes dark and unfathomable.
“I’m not as slender as I once was, Colin.” Miranda bit her lip and looked away. Would he find her wanting?
Reverently, Colin ran a fingertip along the line of her jaw, moving to slide along the delicate rise of her collarbone.
“Shush, Miranda. Just this once.”
His hand opened, the palm resting on the rise of her breasts before moving to cup the underside, as if testing the weight. With a graceful slide, his hand splayed against her stomach, before possessively cupping her mound.
“I’d forgotten,” the deep tenor grew rough with longing, “how beautiful you are. All of you.” His fingers threaded down into the heat of her, sliding through the slick, wet flesh. Rubbing back and forth until Miranda arched her back and thrust her hips forward.
“Mine.”
“Yes,” she moaned as he teased his finger between the folds.
“You’re very wet, Miranda,” he whispered. “I want you so very much.”
He was torturing her, his fingers gliding back and forth sending ripples of sensation across her skin.
“I find it unfair,” her voice caught as he slid a finger inside her, “that you are still clothed.” If she were being truthful, it was incredibly erotic to stand naked before him, while his fingers did the most amazing things.
He blew air across one nipple, eliciting a soft cry from her. His tongue flicked out to circle the tip.
“Open your legs, my love.”
Miranda fell back against the bed, her legs parting. He pressed against her until she lay down, settling his large body between her thighs.
Colin leaned over and sucked one taut nipple into his mouth, fingers curling up inside of her as he moved in and out.
Miranda moaned, reaching out to grab his hand and push it shamefully against her.
His mouth left the throbbing nibble. “Right there? I remember.” Then bent to his task again, his mouth sucking and nibbling her breast until she was near mad. He allowed the pressure inside her to build, then retreat, until she heard herself beg him.
Drawing his tongue over her tortured nipple, he murmured. “Now, my love.” He rotated his thumb over the engorged piece of flesh he’d so far ignored.
A cry escaped her lips as Miranda came apart. She bucked against his hand, her head falling to the side as her body moved with each wave of pleasure. Miranda floated up and then fell again as another tremor wracked her body, the whiskey giving her release an even more dreamlike quality.
He entered her suddenly, in one thrust, embedding himself deep in her body before she’d even realized he’d discarded his clothes. A soft moan came from his lips as he sank into her.
Instinctively her trembling legs hugged his hips. Reaching up, she ran her fingers down the length of the scar, tracing the puckered flesh to the place where it met his lip.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I will always love you.”
Colin turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.
